Page 17 of The Biker’s Guilty Pleasur

“Oh. I’ve got some chicken, and I made a pasta salad yesterday. It shouldn’t take me long to cook.”

“How about I cook, and you go and take a shower? You’ve been working all day,” he said, stepping into her very small kitchenette.

She glanced down at her body and nodded. “You’re sure?”

“All stoves are pretty much the same, and chicken, you cook it through if you don’t want the shits,” he said.

She wrinkled her nose. “That’s ... actually quite accurate.” She shrugged. “Okay then.”

Grace glanced back at him, and he opened her fridge to see there wasn’t a lot of food. He didn’t get to read a lot about her, as it didn’t feel right to know more than Grace was willing to give.

He grabbed the chicken and rummaged through her cupboards. He liked her a hell of a lot more, seeing the variety of different chili sauces on display, as well as a multitude of spice blends. Grace clearly didn’t like bland foods, and that he could work with. He found the pasta salad and took a bite, it had diced carrots, peas, celery, peppers, and a spiced dressing, and it was delicious. Reaper wasn’t used to this. At the club, they had a chef handle all the cooking.

He seasoned the chicken with a bit of Cajun spice blend, and he served up the salad, but he did have to add a little bit of diced cheese. The fucking cat watched him cook the entire time.

The chicken was finished just as Grace stepped out of her bedroom, and he saw her hair was damp and her face was clear of any makeup. She was gorgeous with makeup, and even more stunning without it. She looked fresh-faced, and there was a flush to her cheeks. She wore a pair of bed shorts, as well as a vest top, and he could tell she wasn’t wearing a bra. Hard not to notice with a body like hers. Did she even realize he noticed that? Her nipples were tightly puckered, even though the apartment was quite warm.

“Dinner is served,” he said.

She didn’t have a dining room table, and there was only a small sofa, so he sat next to her with the food on his lap.

“I’m sorry, I’m not used to guests,” she said.

“That’s all right. I rarely eat at the table in the clubhouse anyway.”

She nodded.

He glanced over to her, and he wanted to say more, but instead he took a bite.

“Who do you think it could be?” Grace asked.

“I don’t know, but I am going to stay here the night. That way you don’t have to worry if you think they might try to break in.”

“Do you think that’s a possibility?” she asked.

“Yes,” he said.

She looked terrified.

“Which is why I’m staying.”

“There’s no way you’ll be able to sleep on the sofa,” she said. “You’re going to need to take the bed.” She pointed behind her. “I’ll take the sofa.”

“Fuck that, no way,” he said. “You sleep on the bed. This is your apartment.”

“But you shouldn’t be uncomfortable. You’re too tall for a love seat.”

“I can handle it. Trust me, I’ve slept on worse.”

“But I don’t like it and it makes me feel guilty. Why don’t you sleep in the bed with me?” she asked.

He thought he had seen her blush, but nothing prepared him for the deep red her face went.

“I don’t mean you and I sleep together. I mean, we share a bed, and it will be big enough, and that way, you’re not uncomfortable out here. Or we can even do head to toes.”

“You mean sixty-niner?” It was so cute to see her blush from his teasing.

This was going to be a nightmare for him, sleeping close to Grace, without touching her. He was going to need all the restraint he had.