Oh, she liked that, and used her thumb and forefinger to capture each one, tug them, pinch them, then bent down and took each in her mouth, dragging her tongue over one, then the other, rewarded when he sucked in a harsh breath. So . . . he liked his ni**les played with, too. Knowing that made her pu**y wet.

She licked along his rib cage, then lower, scooting down his thighs. Damn, he was so big underneath her, reminding her how small she was and how gently he treated her. He was so wrong about what she needed. He thought he couldn’t be the kind of man she wanted? He was exactly what she wanted. His patience right now astounded her. If all he wanted was a pu**y to fuck, he’d never let her explore like this.

His hard c**k jutted against her belly, then her br**sts as she snaked her tongue along his hip bone, loving the way he tasted, the differences in the way their bodies were made. She buried her nose in the wiry thatch of hair at his sex, inhaling his musky fragrance, realizing the primal scent excited her. She ran her tongue along his inner thigh, then lower, where his ball sac lay nestled against his ass. She licked there too, toyed with the seam separating his balls, and he groaned, his thigh muscles clenching as she captured one of his balls in her mouth and licked his flesh, only to release it and play with the other.

There wasn’t a part of him she didn’t want to touch, to taste, to play with. She grasped his c**k with one hand and licked the underside from the base to the tip, following the seam like a road map leading to the soft crest. Now she met his eyes, which were smoldering like a barely banked flame. When she looked at him and captured his cockhead in her mouth, covering it while flicking her tongue over it, that flame burst into an inferno. He rocketed onto his elbows, pumped his h*ps upward and thrust his c**k between her greedy lips, feeding her.

She grasped his c**k with both hands, playing with him, squeezing and stroking while sucking him, watching the way he undulated under her hands, the way his eyes nearly rolled back into his head when she swirled her tongue over the tip, then brought him fully into her mouth. Then she gave up control and let him sink deep, all the way to her throat, content to let him thrust and withdraw.

Instinct drove her, and she began to stroke him in earnest as she felt his muscles tense under her, knew he was getting close when he grasped the back of her head to direct her movements. She felt the dampness of perspiration on his legs, knew that driving force of impending cl**ax, when nothing else mattered but reaching the pinnacle.

She wanted to take him there. She squeezed with her lips, sucked with her mouth, and a low groan tore from his throat at the same time Diaz erupted, gifting her with sweet come. She held on to his c**k and to him as he shuddered violently, pumping furiously into her mouth. She swallowed, holding on to him as he emptied, swallowed until he had nothing left to give her and collapsed onto his back, his muscles relaxing.

Content to lay with her head on his thigh, she stroked his leg, licked her lips, and smiled. Diaz caressed her hair and she listened to him breathe, first raspy and hard, then finally normal again. Her pulse had been racing, too. She’d been as turned on as he was, her ni**les tingling, her pu**y quivering and wet. Giving pleasure was as thrilling as getting it. She had so much to learn about sex. And such a wonderful teacher.

She lifted her head. “Thank you, again.”

He lifted his. “For what?”

“For another lesson. That was fun. I had no idea making you come would excite me so much.”

He shuddered a breath and shook his head, then disengaged himself, sliding off the bed and heading into the bathroom to turn on the shower. She followed.

“There’s really no point in cleaning up. Yet,” she said, hoping her meaning was clear.

“Yeah, there is, because we’re finished here.”

“No, we’re not. We just started.”

He opened the shower door and stepped inside. Undaunted, she followed him in and closed the door behind her. “Diaz, don’t do this.”

He stuck his head in the shower spray, shaking his head so water droplets flew everywhere, then turned to face her. “I think I’ve already done enough.”

“Not enough.”

“Too much. No more, Jess. I already told you I’m not f**king you.” He stepped out of the spray and reached for the soap, giving her room to move into the warm water.

She did, wetting her hair and body down, and taking the soap from his outstretched hand. “Don’t you think we already crossed the threshold? What’s holding you back?”

As he soaped himself, he said, “You don’t want me. I don’t know how much clearer I can make it.”

She was getting irritated with being told what she did and didn’t want. “I think I can choose for myself.”

“Not without knowing me better. You only know what you’ve seen. Not the rest of it.”

She ducked under the spray to rinse her body, then moved so Diaz could do the same. “What rest of it?”

He stepped out of the shower, and she turned it off, grabbing for the towel he held for her as she walked out.

“My father beat my mother every day, Jess. His temper was monstrous. Do you know how angry I get? That kind of temper can only run in my family. I have it. I’ve seen it. Hell, everyone in the Wild Riders has seen it.”

She wrapped the towel around herself, moving toward him, needing to touch him. She put her arms around him, held him for a moment before pulling away to look at him. At least he let her hold him. “I’m sorry for your mother, what she had to go through, Diaz. That must have been awful for her.”

“It was. But that’s not my point.”

“What is?”

“I’m not the kind of guy you need. I’m like a ticking time bomb.”

“Because of your father?”

He nodded.

She smiled, shook her head. “That’s not who you are.”

“You don’t even know me.” He walked out of the bathroom.

She followed. Again.

It was time she explained a few things about herself. She sat on the bed.

“I never knew who my father was. My mother probably didn’t know, either. One of her johns, I would imagine.”

Diaz stilled, turned to her. “I didn’t know. Grange didn’t—”

“Of course he didn’t. He wouldn’t, because he protected me. None of you know anything about me. My mother was a whore and a crack addict. She tried to sell me, to turn me out into the streets in order to make money to get her next fix. When her looks became so bad she couldn’t make money lying on her back anymore, she tried to get me to do it for her so she could get her drugs. Her drugs were more important than I was, Diaz. She would have sold my virginity for a fix.”

Diaz’s eyes narrowed, his jaw clenched, shock and fury evident on his face. “Son of a bitch. Wasn’t there anyone to help you?”

She shrugged. “Not really. It wasn’t like she had family who cared. And she only thought of the drugs. As soon as she figured out I was young and pretty and the guys were giving me the eye, she saw dollar signs.”

“Christ, Jessie. Did any of them—”

She shook her head. “No. I was faster, and I was sober. I knew when to get out of the way and I had great hiding places.”

He leaned his head against the wall. “What you had to go through . . .”

She shrugged. “I’m over it. It took a while, but I got past it. As soon as she tried to use me like that I was history.”

“Goddammit, Jessie. I’m sorry.” He came toward her, but she rose and backed away, crossed her arms, hating that she had to dredge up the past.

She narrowed her gaze at him. “Don’t feel sorry for me. Don’t pity me. I never did. I survived. So did you. None of us are products of our past, Diaz. We’re survivors. We’re tough. That’s why Grange chose us. I did fine after Mac pulled me off the streets and brought me to the Wild Riders. So did you. So don’t give me that bullshit about you being who your father was. That’s a flimsy excuse for you not wanting to make love to me, and I won’t accept it.”

He stared at her for the longest time, and Jessie couldn’t decide if he wanted to turn tail and run or grab her and hold her. She waited. Then he grabbed clothes, jammed his legs into his pants, and pulled on a T-shirt, then socks and boots, keeping his back to her until he was dressed.

Dressed. Like armor, she thought, crossing her arms over her chest. If he had his clothes on, he could be protected against big, bad Jessie. She’d laugh if it wasn’t so sad.

When he finally turned to her, he had his jacket and his keys in his hand.

“It’s the only excuse I have, Jess. I’m sorry.”

This time when he walked out, she didn’t even try to stop him.

EIGHT

DIAZ WAS DETERMINED TO KEEP HIS HEAD IN THE JOB TODAY, and not on Jessie. He’d made a critical error last night, one he didn’t intend to repeat. He couldn’t blame Jessie for it, either. She might be putting the full press on him, but it was up to him to say no, to back away before things got out of hand. Though how much more out of hand could they get?

This morning he sat and nursed a cup of black coffee while he waited for Spence and Jessie to join him in the hotel restaurant. He’d buzzed Jessie’s cell this morning and notified her they’d have a meeting over breakfast. She seemed fine enough, not angry, said she’d be down shortly.

He hoped like hell Jessie would someday forgive him for what he’d done to her, for leading her on. It could have been worse. He could have f**ked her. Granted, her virginity might not be an actual physical thing any longer, but it meant something to him. And obviously, to her. She hadn’t given it to anyone else, and he sure as hell wasn’t going to be the one to take it from her. That had catastrophe written all over it. Thankfully he’d come to his senses last night before he’d taken that step, though it had been a close call.

He’d wanted her. To be honest, he still wanted her. Spending the night in Spence’s room hadn’t changed that.

When he’d called Spence’s cell and said he was bunking in his room for the night, Spence told him he was insane. Spence was probably right. But at least Spence had the decency not to ask questions. Diaz wasn’t sure he had good enough answers to explain this mess.

He glanced up at the swoosh of the elevator doors opening. Hotel guests spilled out, lugging their suitcases or laptops. Jessie was at the back of the crowd, dressed in skintight jeans, another body-hugging shirt cut low in front and revealing an ample amount of cleavage. She didn’t smile, her full lips pressed together as she approached. Still, she took his breath away. His c**k tightened as he remembered what it was like to touch her, to taste her. He’d only had a sample, and it wasn’t enough. Not nearly enough.

Tough. It was going to have to be, because he’d had all he was going to.

She laid her bag down on the chair. “I’m going for breakfast. Be right back,” she said.

He nodded, taking another long swallow of his coffee and watching her as she filled her tray.

“Can’t take your eyes off her, can you?” Spence asked as he slid into the chair next to Diaz.

“Don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Jessie. You. Watching her ass. Practically drooling. I’ll need a raincoat just to eat next to you.”

Diaz turned to Spence and frowned. “Asshole. I am not drooling.”

Spence leaned back in the chair and grinned. “You’re so obvious. It’s really kind of pathetic. You have this lost puppy dog look about you. Does she have a c**k ring on you yet, one she can tie the leash to?”

Diaz narrowed his gaze, and lowered his voice. “You really don’t want me beating the shit out of you at this crowded restaurant, Spencer.”

Spencer’s only reply was to snort, then kick back the chair and stand. “Yeah, right. You’re too preoccupied sniffing after pu**y to kick anything. I’m going for coffee and something to eat. Why don’t you crawl under the table and look for your balls while I’m gone?”

Diaz would be pissed if he didn’t know Spence so well. It was Spence’s way of teasing him about Jessie, about the two of them having a thing together.

Spence was wrong. Dead wrong. There was nothing going on between them.

Not anymore.

He watched Spence come up behind Jessie and poke her in the ribs. She jumped, jabbed her elbow in Spence’s stomach, then laughed. Spence threw an arm around Jessie and kissed her cheek. The exchange was warm and affectionate. Like brother and sister. Diaz didn’t sense any tension between the two of them.

Nothing at all like when he and Jessie were together. Then there was lots of tension, and it was all sexual.

Just as she’d told him last night, Jessie definitely acted differently with him than she did with the other guys.

His lips curled. He couldn’t help it. Despite knowing it was wrong, the all-male part of him liked the fact that he was special . . . different . . . to her.

She and Spence returned with their food and ate. Diaz had been up for hours so he’d already eaten. He refilled his coffee and listened to the two of them chatter, mainly about Spence and the woman he’d hooked up with, Stephanie.

“Does she know anything?” Diaz asked.

Spence shrugged. “She knew Rex, who’s numero uno tight with Crush. But right now she’s wary. I think Rex dumping her stung a bit. I’m trying not to push her too hard for information. I don’t want to make her suspicious. I’m approaching it as the new guy who’s interested in the girl and not wanting to step on the toes of the ex-boyfriend thing.”

“That’s a good idea,” Jessie suggested. “It’s best if you get to know her gradually, let her think you’re only interested in some fun, not trying to pry secrets out of her.”