Riding Dirty by Jill Sorenson

Author:Jill Sorenson [Sorenson, Jill]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

COLE KNEW MIA was slumming.

He got ready early in the afternoon, tossing some toiletries and a change of clothes into a backpack. Her reasons for agreeing to the overnight date shouldn’t have mattered to him. He was getting his and then some. What did he care why she was sleeping with him? A man who took offense when a beautiful woman sucked his cock and begged for a spanking didn’t deserve to call himself a heterosexual. She had a hot, wet mouth and an even hotter pussy. Only an idiot would question her motives.

Cole wasn’t an idiot.

But he was a realist, and more introspective than he wanted to be. Going to prison had turned him into a thinker. He was still a doer, and he’d do Mia all night long. If she liked his rough hands, he’d put them on her. If she was interested in visiting the dump where he grew up, he’d take her there. If she wanted to play outlaws with him, he’d indulge her.

He couldn’t expect her to look past his felony record and intimidating appearance. Especially since there was nothing else to see. He wasn’t a criminal with a heart of gold or a victim of the system. There were no sad stories to share, no terrible secrets. He was just dirty to the bone. It was in his blood.

Mia had come to him for a wild ride, and he’d give it to her. With pleasure. She was the sexiest, most exciting woman he’d ever met. She embraced her fantasies without shame. He’d never seen anything prettier than her fresh-slapped ass, pink from his palm.

But he wanted more than her body. He wanted to lay in bed with her on a Sunday morning and just...smell her hair. He was obsessed with her. He liked the way she fit on his bike. He liked her face, and her eyes, and her sad, infrequent smile. She’d said she wasn’t happy, and he believed her. He’d do anything to change that for her.

He put on his cut and checked his reflection in the mirror, noting that he looked sharp. The members of Dirty Eleven took pride in personal hygiene. They weren’t filthy, raggedy-haired old men. They left that honor to some of the other clubs, who resembled stray dogs, called their women pigs and appeared to have fleas.

He pulled the neoprene over his ankle monitor and headed out the door. Shawnee was sitting in a lounge chair by the pool, reading a book. Skye had a set of toy boats bobbing on the surface of the water. Neither was dressed for swimming. The burning flames of summer had faded into the warm-embers heat of fall. In Indio, a 90-degree day was cool.

Cole joined them in the pool area. He crouched down next to Skye and retrieved a boat that had floated out of her reach. She hugged the wet toy to her chest. It dripped water on her bare feet, making her giggle.

“You should talk to her,” Shawnee said, glancing up from her book.

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