It could anticipate all it wanted. All he was going to do with Jessie was play a little.

Or a lot. He laid his palm over the satin at the apex of her thighs. Steamy wet heat greeted him. She raised her hips, pressing her sweet pu**y against his hand.

“Diaz.”

The way she whispered his name—part praise, part plea—a man could only take so much torture.

“I’m going to make you come, Jessie.”

Her lips parted and she let out a slight gasp of surprise, her eyes widening again in that way that spoke of innocence. He frowned, then dismissed it. Maybe it was pleasurable surprise, instead.

He pressed his palm against her mound, rubbed up, then down, enjoying the moist feel of her, the way she bucked up to meet his hand, tilted her head back, and let out a low moan. She gripped the bedspread, digging her heels into the mattress.

He needed more than this. This satin barrier annoyed him.

“Hang on, baby.” He grasped the tiny straps at her h*ps and with a slight tug, the material gave way. Jessie’s head shot up as he pulled the fabric from her body.

“Oh, God,” she whispered.

And then she was bare.

And she was bare. Completely. Diaz swallowed, caught sight of the small silver ring piercing on the hood of her clit, and nearly dropped to his knees and cried.

“Jesus, Jessie. When did you have this one done?”

“On my twenty-first birthday.”

He’d like to kill the son of a bitch who got to touch her there.

“It was a woman,” she said in response to his frown. “A friend of mine who does tattoos and piercings.”

Good thing. Not that he expected her to be a virgin or anything, but the thought of anyone being down here before him made him decidedly . . . damned irritated.

Which he had no right to be. She was twenty-three, not a kid.

“Do you like it?” he asked.

She cast him an arched brow and a half smile. “It’s . . . fun to play with.”

He could well imagine. “Let’s just see how much fun it is.” She was wet, glistening with her own juices. He dipped his fingers along her pu**y lips, then trailed them upward, slow and easy, getting her used to his touch. She trembled, tensed, then nearly rocketed right off the bed when he used the pad of his thumb to circle the hood of her clit. He had to press one hand down on her lower belly to hold her in place.

“Shh, baby, it’s okay,” he murmured, coming up beside her to hold her steady. Good God she was sensitive.

“I’m not . . . that is I haven’t . . . Shit.”

Warning bells and chimes of uh oh sounded in his head. He pulled his hand away and sat up. “You haven’t what?”

“Nothing. I haven’t come in a while, that’s all.” She grabbed his wrist and moved it back to her sex. “Please, don’t stop.”

Diaz was no idiot. That’s not what she meant. He pushed back, grabbing a pillow to shove against the headboard, and dragged Jessie with him. “Let’s take a short break.”

She gave him an incredulous stare. “Are you kidding me? You’re stopping now?”

“Hell yes, we’re stopping now. Tell me what you haven’t, Jessie. What haven’t you done?”

Her cheeks flamed pink. She looked down, then back up again through the fringes of her eyelashes, not quite meeting his probing gaze.

He didn’t want to know the answer, did he?

But he had to know. He tilted her chin up, forcing her to look at him. He needed her to say it.

“Jess, tell me.”

“I’ve never done this before.”

He stilled, every muscle in his body tight. “You’ve never done what?”

“Um . . . anything.”

Son of a bitch. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Instinctively, he’d already known. Something in her eyes had told him. That innocence he’d kept seeing wasn’t an act. It was real.

He slid off the bed, dragged his hand through his hair, and paced the room.

“Goddammit, Jessie. How the hell could you be twenty-three years old and a virgin?”

She rolled her eyes. “Diaz, I’ve been with the Wild Riders since I was fifteen years old. From the time I got there Grange guarded me like a mother hen, never let me out of his sight. And if it wasn’t him, it was one of you guys watching over me. I was homeschooled, and when I wasn’t doing that I was trained. That took up all my time. It wasn’t like I had a normal life. When would I have dated, when or where would I have met a guy? It wasn’t like I’d go out to the mall and bring one home with me. And if I had, you all would have been all over him. No way would he have stood a chance.”

She had a point. They would have never let a guy near Jessie back then. Diaz wasn’t sure they’d let one near her now. No wonder she never brought guys around them.

“When you became of legal age and started riding and going out on your own?” All those times Jessie disappeared, out riding, by herself? He thought a taste of freedom would have given her the opportunity to meet a guy or two . . . gain some experience. Hell, they all thought that.

She shrugged. “I was . . . picky. By then I compared every man I met to you-to you guys.” Her eyes swept down, then back up again. “No one measured up. It’s not like I was going to jump the bones of the first available guy just because he had a dick. Hence my dilemma—twenty-three and still a virgin.”

He still couldn’t fathom this. Not the way she looked, the way she acted . . . so bold, direct, as if she knew exactly what she wanted. “What about those piercings?”

Her lips curled. “What about them? They’re body art, they don’t signify sexual experience.”

“The cl*tring?”

She rolled her eyes. “I masturbate, Diaz. I might be a virgin, technically, but it doesn’t mean I lack experience. Masturbation is my only sexual outlet right now. And the cl*tring heightens my sexual pleasure. Since no one is doing it for me, I do it for myself.”

He shouldn’t be having this conversation with her. He shouldn’t be in this room with her. There were a lot of shouldn’ts going on in his head, his body. His hard-on returned in an angry rush. The mental visual of Jessie, na**d and spread-eagled on her bed, toying with that tiny little piercing on her clit, bringing herself to orgasm . . .

Despite what he knew, he still wanted to throw her down on the bed and eat her pu**y until she screamed. Which was so the wrong thing to be thinking about. Now. Ever.

“I can’t believe this.” He walked the carpet from end to end, frustration eating away at him. How could they have not seen this? Well, hell. It’s not like any of them ever discussed Jessie’s sex life with her. She’d never had other females around. Not until Lily arrived on the scene, and that was just recently. Did Lily even know? Even if she did, it wasn’t like she’d call a meeting with all the guys to discuss it.

Jessie crossed her arms under her breasts, seemingly unaware or at least unconcerned of her complete nudity. “I’m so sorry that I didn’t unburden myself of my virginity sooner. How inconvenient for you tonight.”

“You know that’s not what I’m talking about.” Or maybe it was. Dammit, it was inconvenient. He’d thought she was experienced.

Would that have eased his guilt over what they were going to do? Probably.

He turned to the window, easing back the curtain an inch to peer out, to turn his gaze toward anything but her luscious body. “If I’d known . . . I would have never touched you.”

“I’m glad you didn’t know, then.”

He flipped back to gape at her. “You want this to happen?”

“I wouldn’t be sitting here na**d with you if I didn’t.”

He frowned. “I thought you were picky.”

“I am.”

“But you’re here with me.”

She rolled her eyes. “Duh.”

“You’re obviously not picky enough. You shouldn’t be with me.”

“Why not? You’re the one I want. I’m an adult, Diaz. I get to choose the man I make love with.”

Him? The man she’d give her virginity to? Christ. It would have been him. His thoughts about no one else having touched her . . . his cavemanlike behavior . . . it was accurate, wasn’t it? And he had to admit there was a part of him screaming a hell yeah! at the thought of no man ever touching Jessie before.

What was wrong with him? He couldn’t do this.

“I’m not going to be the one to take your virginity, Jessie.”

She sighed. “Why not? It’s more of a semantics thing than physical anyway. I’ve used vibrators.”

He dropped his chin to his chest, closed his eyes, and there went the visuals again. Jessie with a dildo shoved into her pussy, rubbing her clit, lifting her ass off the bed as she pleasured herself. Her eyes closed tight, her breathing labored as she brought herself to orgasm.

Fuck. His dick was telling him one thing, his conscience another. And he was getting a headache.

He opened his eyes, looked at her. “Because you need to find a great guy, fall in love, have a relationship. And I’m not the kind of guy to do that with.”

“You are a great guy, Diaz.”

She knew so very little about him. If she did, she’d get dressed and run like hell. “No, I’m not. And I’m not going to argue with you about this. I’m flattered that you think you want to give it up to me, but I’m going to have to pass. I really think you should find a different guy.”

She leaned back on the bed. “Someone like Crush?”

He shot her a glare. “Don’t even think about it.”

“You don’t get to tell me who I fuck. If it isn’t going to be you, then I’ll choose someone else.”

“For someone who claims to be picky, you’ve suddenly become rather indiscriminate.”

She inhaled, let it out. “Okay, fine. I don’t want to have sex with Crush. This is frustrating. You built me up, got me hot, and you’re kind of leaving me hanging here, Diaz. That’s not really fair.”

His lips lifted. She had a point. “You’re right about that. Sorry.”

She laid back on the bed, planted her feet flat, and widened her legs, letting her fingers drift between them, resting on the top of her sex, oh so close to that tantalizing piercing. She tapped her fingers, drawing his attention to her smooth pu**y lips, her still swollen clit. “So if you won’t f**k me, how about releasing a little tension?”

The woman was going to be the death of him.

SEVEN

JESSIE HAD ALWAYS CONSIDERED HERSELF BRAVE, BOLD, AND sexy.

She also knew what she wanted. And since she was already na**d and had come this far with Diaz, she intended to go all the way. She’d push him if she had to—force him, even, though that thought caused her lips to curve. He was easily twice her size. She could hardly throw him down and force him to have sex with her.

The mental visual was appealing, though.

Unfortunately, she was tired of doing things mentally. Or by herself. She was na**d, lying on the bed. Diaz was in the room with her, and from the look on his face, definitely interested. If she could find a way to break through his wall of chivalry or whatever misguided notion of honor that currently kept him across the room from her, she could have him on the bed with her.

And maybe, just maybe . . .

“Jessie.”

His voice had gone hoarse, as if he struggled with indecision. He stood rooted to the spot, his fist clenched in the drapes, staring at her, at where her fingers rested just above her pussy. Good. At least this time he hadn’t walked out on her. They were making progress.

“Come here, Diaz. I know you want this as much as I do.”

“You don’t know what I want. Or even what you want. Think about this, Jess. This is a mistake.”

He was the one who didn’t know what he wanted. Emboldened by the heated look in his eyes, the way he couldn’t drag his gaze away from her, she slid her fingers down, parted her legs farther. Her cl*ttrembled, knowing he watched. She was both embarrassed and aroused. She’d never done this in front of a man before. She’d never done anything in front of a man before. But when Diaz palmed his cock, rubbed it as he watched, her lips parted and she began to pant, her body melting from the inside out. She suddenly couldn’t breathe, her throat had gone dry, no doubt because all the moisture in her body had rushed to her pussy. She felt the warm wetness there and ran her hand down, circled her pu**y lips, and dipped inside just a bit to wet her fingers.

Diaz let out a strangled groan, and she knew then that he wasn’t going to leave her. She let her fingers drift upward, wetting her vulva, circling around her clit, waving her fingers back and forth.

He moved forward. “How often do you do this?”

“Do what? Lie na**d on a hotel room bed with a man watching me?”

“No. Touch yourself.”

“Every day. Sometimes more than once a day.”

“Christ, Jessie.”

“I’m tired of touching myself. It’s time I had a little education. I need you, Diaz.”

He stripped off his T-shirt, and she dug her heels in so she could push her back up onto the pillows and watch.

His chest was smooth, dark, and muscled, a few scars the only thing marring its absolute chiseled perfection, though even those added to his masculine beauty. He looked like a warrior, from his broad shoulders to his wide chest, narrow waist, and his six-pack abs. She wanted to lick all the way down to the dark feathering of hair that disappeared into his pants. He released the belt buckle and Jessie swallowed, her gaze riveted to his zipper, to the straining erection pushing against the crotch of his jeans. She followed his fingers as he drew the zipper down, realizing he’d gone commando. She held her breath as he reached for the waistband of his pants and pushed them down over his thighs, then sighed in pure feminine appreciation.