Spence grinned down at Stephanie, who batted her lashes at him. Jessie rolled her eyes. Could the woman be more obvious?

Spence didn’t seem to mind the attention, though. As Stephanie laid her head against him and hugged her full br**sts against his arm, Spence winked at Jessie. She shook her head and fought back a laugh.

“So how do you handle multiple . . . uh . . . boyfriends in the same gang?” Jessie asked.

Stephanie sat up and turned to Jessie. “Oh the guys don’t mind sharing. Sometimes things work out, sometimes they don’t, ya know? I mean, take Rex, for instance. He and I had fun, and then we didn’t anymore. He’s always so busy riding, especially late at night, going off who knows where. He likes his alone time, which so didn’t work for me. I need a stud warming my bed, you know what I mean? I don’t want a guy I can’t keep tabs on. So we ended things. No hard feelings, right Rex?”

Rex, sitting nearby, shrugged. “Uh huh.”

Jessie smothered a laugh. “I see. Well, that works out nicely for you, doesn’t it?”

Stephanie shrugged. “I’m a free spirit. Just ask any of the guys around here.”

So, she was a slut. Jessie fervently hoped Spence was using condoms, because ick.

Crush had long ago lit the bonfire, which warmed the area considerably. The flame shot high into the air and there was plenty of wood for it to burn the entire night. Jessie was content to watch the dancing orange and yellow flames reaching toward the sky. Guitar playing was still going strong, beer was still flowing, and people were even dancing, some close and sensually, some quite comically. Other couples were huddled under blankets or curled up on hay bales, making out or simply passed out.

Jessie occupied herself by watching the ones making out or doing who-knew-what under those blankets. She heard moans and whimpers and lots of movement under the covers, even caught glimpses of leathers being pulled down to the knees. There was definitely sex going on. Her body heated, and it wasn’t from the bonfire, but she couldn’t tear her gaze away from the raw, un-apologetic sensuality of watching couples get it on right in front of everyone.

“Voyeur,” Diaz whispered in her ear, drawing her back tighter against his body.

She smiled, but didn’t reply. Instead, she watched a man’s rear end lift up, slide down, then the look of utter rapture on his partner’s face in response. They danced as beautifully together in sex as the flames danced under the moonlit sky. It was a picture-perfect moment. She’d love to be that free, to be half na**d under the covers with Diaz, making love and not caring about the world around them.

She sighed, shuddered at the sudden longing. Diaz wrapped his arm around her chest, and she closed her eyes, fighting the tears that pooled there.

“What’s wrong, baby?”

They were alone now. Spence and Stephanie had moved off to a dark corner somewhere. Crush and Rex were nowhere around. It was just the two of them on a stack of hay bales.

She shifted, half turned so she could see his face. Bonfire flames flickered in his dark eyes, giving him a devilish look.

“I need you,” she whispered, sliding her palm across his cheek, loving the feel of a day’s growth of beard scraping her hand. It gave her goose bumps.

He lifted her hand, kissed her open palm, then drew her onto his lap. “I’m here.”

“I want more.”

“I know.” He slipped his arm around her back, pulling her against his body, then trailed a finger along her jaw, capturing it in his hands. Inches from his face, she refused to initiate, wanted him to take.

He did, palming the back of her neck and drawing her the last few inches that separated them. When his lips touched hers, she ignited like the first flames of the bonfire, an explosion of heat, melting her instantly. And then he took it deeper, using his tongue to drive her crazy with soft, velvet strokes.

She was lost in sensation, in Diaz, but still cognizant of other people around, possibly watching them as she’d been doing with the other couples. She didn’t care. She pulled back, sat up, then wrapped her legs around him and held on to his shoulders so she faced him. His cock, hard and hot, nudged her thigh. She shuddered. So close, yet miles apart. “Do you know what happens during initiation into a gang like the Devil’s Skulls?”

“Yeah.”

She motioned her head toward the couple going at it under the covers nearby. “I don’t want my first time to be in public, Diaz. Please help me.”

He looked over her shoulder, watching for a few minutes, then looked at her again. “Shit. I hadn’t thought of that.”

She had. Countless times since given this assignment. A silly thing, probably, but it meant something to her.

“I’ve spent a lot of years imagining my first time, what it would be like. I don’t expect candlelight and romance or other girlish fantasies, but I sure don’t want it in front of an audience, either.”

“We’ll send you home, Jess. You don’t have to do this.”

Her eyes widened. “Are you serious?”

“Hell yes. No assignment is worth compromising your virginity.”

She shook her head. “You don’t understand.”

“What don’t I understand?”

“It’s not just the job. I mean, it is and it isn’t.”

“Explain it to me, then.”

“It’s in my way, this whole virginity thing. It’s like a cement block around my neck—always there. Yes, this particular assignment requires someone with more experience, something I definitely don’t have. But I can do the job, Diaz. Besides, it’s more than that. More than just this assignment and what it entails.” She laid her palms on his chest, felt the mad rhythm of his heart.

“I want you. I want this. I always have. I don’t want anyone else to make love to me but you. And that has nothing to do with our jobs or this assignment.”

His gaze shot toward the couple moaning under the covers, then back at her, his expression unfathomable. “We need to get going.”

She sighed, then climbed off his lap, refusing to say a word as they rode back to the hotel. What would be the point? She’d asked, and once again he’d slammed the door in her face.

She was out of options.

Jessie felt like a rock was sitting on her chest. She refused to cry. That was childish. She was going to have to accept the inevitable, and that was that. She couldn’t force Diaz to compromise his principles.

Diaz opened the door to their room and held it while she walked in. She’d barely stepped fully into the room before he grabbed her, kicked the door shut, and slammed her against it, taking her mouth in a kiss that left her breathless.

Whoa. Unprepared for his assault, she palmed his chest, then his upper arms, holding on for dear life as he pressed up against her—fully against her—his body lining up oh so perfectly, his c**k already hard and insistent against her pussy.

Her senses went haywire as he jerked her leather jacket off, then his own, his lips still latched on to hers, his tongue sliding inside to ravage her mouth. She had no idea what was going on with him, but she wasn’t about to interrupt this bliss to ask. Not when he slid his hands along her waist and began to lift her shirt, his hands warm and searching upward, lifting the material as he did.

He rested his hand just under her breast. Her heart slammed against it. She tore her lips from his, panting, trying to catch her breath. As she did, she inhaled his scent. Outdoors, sweat, man—Diaz. Her knees felt weak. This was all so overwhelming, so incredible.

Could this really be happening? She had to know, had to be certain that this time . . .

“Diaz, what are you doing?”

“Shh,” he breathed against her ear. “Let me.”

Oh, God. She’d let him do anything. Her cl*tpulsed, her pu**y quivered, her br**sts swelled against her bra, waiting for his hands. So close. He laid his forehead against hers, his breath rough and rasping like hers.

He snaked an arm around her waist and lifted her, carried her into the room, deposited her on the bed. He moved away, bent down to remove her boots and socks, then stood again, going for her pants.

She wanted to ask, but didn’t dare, in case he changed his mind. If, in fact, he was going to—

He flipped the button open, drew the zipper down on her jeans, and began to pull. She lifted, helping him, watching him, the intense look of concentration on his face, as if this were the most important task of his life. Her jeans discarded, he kneeled over her, crawling up her body. His clothes were still on, and she was half undressed—why was it always that way? She reached for him, for his shirt, and this time, he paused to lift it over his head and toss it on the floor before proceeding on to her shirt, which he drew upward over her ribs, bending down to press his lips there. She closed her eyes and let out a whimper, loving the feel of his mouth touching her—anywhere.

When he drew up, his eyes were dark, glassy, filled with desire. He grasped the hem of her top and lifted it over her head, then undid the clasp of her bra, opening it, pulling it off, tossing her clothes around the room as he did. And with each revelation he captured her flesh in his mouth.

Her ni**les stood erect, waiting for his mouth. He didn’t disappoint, bending over and dragging his tongue across them. She moaned at the exquisite contact, cried out when he took one nipple between his teeth, holding it there while he tortured it with flicks of his tongue until she couldn’t think straight anymore. Then he did the same thing to the other while kneading her br**sts with his hands. It was torment feeling his hands and mouth on her. The pressure, his tongue, and his touch, it was all such sweet heaven. She lifted her butt off the bed, trying to grind her pu**y against his hard cock. Maybe she appeared desperate, but she didn’t care. She knew what she wanted, and tonight she wouldn’t be denied.

But Diaz pushed her down, held her hips, continuing his slow and thorough torment of her ni**les with his magical mouth.

“Please,” she cried, unable to stand it any longer. She was turned on, goddammit. She didn’t need any more foreplay.

He lifted, sat back on his heels, studying her, his face all harsh lines and incredibly sexy. How could he be so desirable when he wasn’t smiling? “What do you want, baby?”

“I want you to f**k me.”

He dragged his palm between her breasts, down her rib cage, letting it rest above her panties. “Relax, Jess. I am going to f**k you tonight, and nothing is going to stop that now.”

She caught her breath at the sensual promise in his voice, the commanding way he’d taken charge. Diaz was a man on a mission, all right. She was his mission now.

Pulling his gaze from her face, he reached for her panties and dragged them over her hips, down her legs, discarded them onto the floor along with the rest of her clothes. Still on his knees, he undid his pants and drew the zipper down, revealing that dark line of hair leading to his cock. As he pulled his jeans aside she saw his cockhead, swollen and pressed tight against his belly. She licked her lips, swallowed, watched as he eased off the bed to shuck his boots and pants until he was na**d, too. His c**k sprang out, thick and pointing at her. All hers.

She was dizzy with anticipation, had awaited this moment for so long. She was almost afraid to move, to speak, to do anything that might cause him to stop, to change his mind. Especially since he seemed so content on taking control, on touching her body. She really liked the way he touched her, this almost reverent caressing of every inch of her skin.

“Soft,” he murmured as he smoothed his hands over her thighs, spreading her legs, circling her skin with his thumb. He drew closer to her pussy, caressing her, teasing her by drawing near, then moving away. Her nerve endings were on fire waiting for his touch there, her cl*tswollen and throbbing. And the way he looked at her . . . his jaw set tight, his gaze devouring her as if he wanted to eat her alive.

She saw the hunger there, reflecting what she felt inside. She shuddered a ragged breath, leaned up, reaching for him, needing his mouth. He met her halfway, his lips brushing hers in an achingly tender kiss that was all too brief but filled with passionate promise. He pushed her back down onto the bed, held her there with his palm pressed to her belly, then laid between her thighs, cupping her buttocks to raise her sex to his mouth.

The visual was erotic, his mouth wavering temptingly close to her pussy. He looked at her and dipped, licked along each side, the heat of his tongue sending a wildfire of sensation along her nerve endings. Diaz covered her sex with his mouth, his tongue like liquid velvet along her clit, then pressing and dipping into her pu**y to lap up her cream. His tongue was everywhere, licking upward to tease her clit, flick and play with the piercing, and slide back down around her pu**y lips again.

She felt everything, including his fingers as he tucked one, then two inside her, pumping with a slow, steady rhythm as she’d done to herself earlier. This was so much better. His fingers were bigger, hotter, filling her, stretching her, making her long for his c**k inside her. He hummed against her clit, licked her with relentless strokes until she came up off the bed, shooting into a blinding orgasm. Her pu**y gripped his fingers as she spiraled out of control, trembling as the waves of her orgasm crashed over and over. He held on to her, pumping into her, then slowing, withdrawing. He climbed up her body, pausing to lick his fingers before sliding them into her mouth.

“Taste.”

She sucked his fingers, watched his eyes darken as she did. He replaced his fingers with his hungry mouth, ravaging her with a demanding kiss that left her panting.

He pushed off the bed, grabbed the foil packet from the pocket of his jeans and tore it open, slid the condom on, and nudged her legs apart. When he pressed down on top of her he grabbed a handful of her hair and turned her head to the side. Did he have any idea how much it aroused her to feel the tight grip of his hand in her hair, to sense his primal need to possess her? She couldn’t even explain it to herself, other than it excited her beyond the ability to think coherently.