Page 9 of Property of Kevlar

He patted her thigh and glanced over his shoulder. “Home sweet home.”

Slowly, she slid her arms from around him and scooted off the bike. Her dismount wasn’t the most graceful dismount, but she didn’t fall on her face. Why did he find her movements adorable?

Standing on the sidewalk, she hugged herself to keep her ample bosom covered. She failed. She had far too much in the way of tits to effectively hide them. The bra did more to cover her than her arms. Cute that she tried, though.

Something about her attempt at modesty was endearing. He’d rarely seen such behavior in a woman who hung around one-percenters.

Hesitating, she glanced left and right. Worry creased her beautiful features. In the floodlights of the lot, he got a better view of her lovely round face, tainted by smeared makeup. How would she appear fully done up? She was gorgeous in distress; he couldn’t begin to imagine how she’d look properly gussied.

She was a full-figured woman, with wide hips and thick thighs. She had the kind of body that jean booty shorts, fishnets, and leather were made for. Openly ogling her, he cleared his throat and ran his hand down his beard. Fucking her in his mind was doing nothing to deflate the chubby straining in his jeans.

Cautiously, she approached him.

He glanced toward his brother and back at her as she placed a hand on his thigh and leaned toward him.

“What if he comes over?” she whispered.

That wasn’t his problem. “Does he know where you live?”

She nodded.

Irrationally, rage bubbled in his veins. Had she ridden on the back of that dingus’s bike, too? What the fuck kind of game was she playing?

Kevlar shifted in his seat.

“Carrie, my friend, brought him and his friend to a party I had a few weeks ago,” she explained.

So… maybe she hadn’t been on the Scorpion’s bike.

“I just…” She glanced toward Kid and then back at him. “Am I supposed to call the cops if he comes by? I feel like that will cause more trouble.”

Logically, yes. A sane woman who was nearly assaulted would report it to the police. Though Kevlar wasn’t in the business of recommending such things.

Her gaze fell to the patch on his vest. She seemed to focus on one in particular.

He didn’t need to look down. He knew his cut inside and out. Each adornment he’d stitched on himself. She fixated on his one percent diamond. Was she aware what it meant? Of course she was. She’d been out with a Bloody Scorpion.

“I know what he is,” she said as she shifted her stance nervously. She lifted her eyes and met his stare. “And what you are.”

She spoke as if she voiced a secret.

Amused, he expressed his curiosity. “What am I?”

He wasn’t sure if he was supposed to be insulted or not. Whatever she assumed, it obviously wasn’t good. Did she think Kevlar was the same as that Scorpion fuck?

“A biker,” she murmured.

If he wasn’t so focused on her lips, he would’ve missed it. Her words came out far too low.

“The bad kind.”

“Bad?” He scoffed and smirked. Funny that she called the guy who saved her from getting her ass handed to her by a dickwad and gave her a lift home bad. Shouldn’t that have made him a Good Samaritan? Apparently not. What did he know about good?

“That’s a funny way of saying thank you,” he teased.

Chewing on her bottom lip, she lowered her gaze away from his.

She squirmed in the cutest manner possible. His dick twitched.