Hawk's Property:Insurgents Motorcycle Club(6)

By: Chiah Wilder



“My friend likes the bartender. She talked me into coming with her.”

“Remind me to buy your friend a drink to thank her.” As he leaned into her, Hawk’s hard dick pressed against her thigh, causing her heart to beat erratically. He was so close to her ear that his skin grazed against her jaw.

“Is this a biker bar?” I can’t believe I just asked that stupid question. I mean, duh, that’s what it is. And I’m talking to a sexy biker. Cara shifted in her seat, realizing how turned on she was, but also how angry she was at her body for acting out.

“What gave it away—the leather, or the motorcycles parked out front?”

“I know that sounded stupid, but I meant do only bikers hang here?”

“You a biker?” He traced her jaw with his finger—so gently, so seductively.

“You know what I mean.”

“For the most part. The guys are bikers, and a lot of the women are here looking for guys to have a good time with. We’re known to be good at partying… and other things.”

Swallowing hard, Cara diverted her attention to her drink, moving the ice cubes around with her straw. Shivers pricked her skin as the softness of Hawk’s t-shirt rubbed against her bare arms. She tried to avoid Hawk’s closeness to her, his intense stare. This good-looking biker, who exuded danger and sex, unnerved her.

Someone had selected AC/DC’s “Highway to Hell” on the jukebox. The hard rock beats filled the bar, and patrons began swaying and singing along to the song.

Hawk pulled Cara off the bar stool. “Let’s dance.”

He twirled her around and she broke free, a smile lighting up her face. Cara loved to dance. AC/DC was one of her favorite bands, and their hard-hitting rhythms made her sway and shake her hips and shoulders. Dancing released all the tension she had been feeling since she’d first entered the bar. Glancing at Hawk, his burning gaze made her move faster to the music; she wanted to avoid it and the pull he had on her. As she banged her head to each beat, her long hair flew around her.

At the end of the song, sweat glistened upon Cara’s body and her black knit top clung to her large breasts. Gathering her hair on top of her head, she let the air cool her damp neck. After that dance, her body tingled with energy. It was what she needed to get rid of some of her pent-up tension. She was back in control. She liked being in control. She started to go back to her seat when Hawk grabbed her hand and pressed her into him. “Every Rose Has Its Thorn” was playing.

At the contact, Cara tensed all over again. Her mouth turned dry and a subtle shakiness invaded her limbs.

“I don’t bite. Well, I do, but I promise I won’t this time.” Hawk dropped her hand, put both of his arms around her waist, and pulled her tightly into him. She tentatively circled her arms around his neck. Hawk cupped the back of her head and laid her cheek against him. She wasn’t sure if she liked dancing so close to him, considering what she’d overheard him say to the bartender earlier. Deciding he was just engaging in “man talk,” she thought she’d give him the benefit of the doubt. After all, he did come to her rescue, and so far, he had been behaving himself. Maybe she’d misjudged him, and maybe he wasn’t such a jerk. Tentatively, she let herself breathe in his maleness.

Cara’s head rose and fell with Hawk’s breathing as he held her. Quivers ran up her spine as his hands moved up and down her back. It had been a long time since her body had reacted to a man’s touch. Since her ex-fiancé had betrayed her a few weeks before their wedding, Cara had built a stone wall around her emotions where men were concerned. It had been four years since she had felt anything toward a man. But in this biker’s arms, with her head against his beating heart, her body let her down. Her stomach was queasy, her nerves on edge, and a sweet sensation was forming between her legs. After all this time, why did her body choose this man and this place to try to break through the wall she’d erected?

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