A Ride to Remember (Biker Erotic Romance) by Emily Stone Read Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Emily Stone
months back, little roses etched with silky thread into the little triangle above her ass and red lace strung over the tops of her bra. She'd only managed to settle on underwear in the past hour.
“It's not like he's going to see them,” she grumbled to herself. “I refuse to give into that dumbass.” She strode back to her closet, tossing t-shirts and cut off shorts from their hooks. She wasn't sure if she should dress up or down, both would be an insult to what he pulled. But at the same time she wanted to see his jaw drop when she opened the door. Gritting her teeth, she tore her favorite black dress from its hanger and stepped into the flimsy fabric. Whisper-thin and nearly see through, it clung to her petite form like a second skin.
Stringy ties roped across her shoulders in helter-skelter lines and her back was bare near to the little triangle hovering over her ass. Dammit if she was going to see Ray she was going to make sure he was speechless and drooling.
Let him see what he gave up.
Just as she finished the last touches of liner to her eyes--less heavy on the colors and more emphasis on her already lovely features--the doorbell rang. She adjusted the dipping hem of her neckline and stuck her feet in shimmering black stilettos, their heels so thin she could probably skewer him with one kick.
Cecilia skipped to the door, took a deep breath, and tugged it open.
And blinked.
If she'd had the notion of dressing to blow him away, he'd decided leather and wet hair was the only retaliation.
And, hell, if any man can wear leather like Ray can, let them step up to the plate right now. The butter-smooth leather clung to his muscles lovingly, accentuating the hard lines of his thighs and the tightness of his... well, let's just say he wore them well.
Plain white shirt under the leather jacket, stretched over muscle as tight as his pants. If anyone else had tried wearing the look they'd come off as a grease reject, but Ray cut a fine figure. Even the damp curls at his neck, droplets sparkling like diamonds, had Cecilia's legs weakening. But she bit down on her tongue, drew all the strength of resistance she had, and focused it on clearing her expression of anything other than bored interest.
It was lucky she'd picked a dress barely touching her thighs, because Ray was still taking in her legs like a drowning man sucked for oxygen.
When his eyes rose up from her hips and tiny waist, lost in her bust for a good few moments, and met her gaze there was a hunger she hadn't seen in years.
Dark and burning straight through her outfit into the wet heat of her suddenly flushed skin. She shivered and smacked him in the chest with the small clutch tucked between her fingers.
“Stop drooling,” she stalked past him, taking the steps with a practiced grace of years in death-defying stilettos. “You promised me dinner, I'm hungry.”
Ray followed behind, and she had a feeling he wasn't watching the steps so much as the bounce of her ass. She smiled to herself. At the very least, she could stop him in his tracks. She considered bending over to “fix her heels” and then remembered she was still pissed off at the moron.
Reaching the sidewalk, she tapped her toes and folded her arms under her chest.
“Well?”
Ray's hands scrambled in his pockets, drawing out a pair of keys. Small, and one house key hanging from the end. Was that... no. Ray wasn't that stupid.
Of course he was.
“Your chariot milady.” He ushered toward the motorcycle leaning slightly to the right, supported by a tiny kickstand. Her heart was in her throat and she nearly beat him.
“You expect me to get on that thing wearing this?” She gestured to the slinky dress, sexy on land but painfully freezing mid-flight.
His slow grin sent fingers of ice crawling up her spine. “I've seen you ride in less.”
Cecilia's face went bright red and she was glad of the
“It's not like he's going to see them,” she grumbled to herself. “I refuse to give into that dumbass.” She strode back to her closet, tossing t-shirts and cut off shorts from their hooks. She wasn't sure if she should dress up or down, both would be an insult to what he pulled. But at the same time she wanted to see his jaw drop when she opened the door. Gritting her teeth, she tore her favorite black dress from its hanger and stepped into the flimsy fabric. Whisper-thin and nearly see through, it clung to her petite form like a second skin.
Stringy ties roped across her shoulders in helter-skelter lines and her back was bare near to the little triangle hovering over her ass. Dammit if she was going to see Ray she was going to make sure he was speechless and drooling.
Let him see what he gave up.
Just as she finished the last touches of liner to her eyes--less heavy on the colors and more emphasis on her already lovely features--the doorbell rang. She adjusted the dipping hem of her neckline and stuck her feet in shimmering black stilettos, their heels so thin she could probably skewer him with one kick.
Cecilia skipped to the door, took a deep breath, and tugged it open.
And blinked.
If she'd had the notion of dressing to blow him away, he'd decided leather and wet hair was the only retaliation.
And, hell, if any man can wear leather like Ray can, let them step up to the plate right now. The butter-smooth leather clung to his muscles lovingly, accentuating the hard lines of his thighs and the tightness of his... well, let's just say he wore them well.
Plain white shirt under the leather jacket, stretched over muscle as tight as his pants. If anyone else had tried wearing the look they'd come off as a grease reject, but Ray cut a fine figure. Even the damp curls at his neck, droplets sparkling like diamonds, had Cecilia's legs weakening. But she bit down on her tongue, drew all the strength of resistance she had, and focused it on clearing her expression of anything other than bored interest.
It was lucky she'd picked a dress barely touching her thighs, because Ray was still taking in her legs like a drowning man sucked for oxygen.
When his eyes rose up from her hips and tiny waist, lost in her bust for a good few moments, and met her gaze there was a hunger she hadn't seen in years.
Dark and burning straight through her outfit into the wet heat of her suddenly flushed skin. She shivered and smacked him in the chest with the small clutch tucked between her fingers.
“Stop drooling,” she stalked past him, taking the steps with a practiced grace of years in death-defying stilettos. “You promised me dinner, I'm hungry.”
Ray followed behind, and she had a feeling he wasn't watching the steps so much as the bounce of her ass. She smiled to herself. At the very least, she could stop him in his tracks. She considered bending over to “fix her heels” and then remembered she was still pissed off at the moron.
Reaching the sidewalk, she tapped her toes and folded her arms under her chest.
“Well?”
Ray's hands scrambled in his pockets, drawing out a pair of keys. Small, and one house key hanging from the end. Was that... no. Ray wasn't that stupid.
Of course he was.
“Your chariot milady.” He ushered toward the motorcycle leaning slightly to the right, supported by a tiny kickstand. Her heart was in her throat and she nearly beat him.
“You expect me to get on that thing wearing this?” She gestured to the slinky dress, sexy on land but painfully freezing mid-flight.
His slow grin sent fingers of ice crawling up her spine. “I've seen you ride in less.”
Cecilia's face went bright red and she was glad of the
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