Falling For The Biker: The Vice President's Girl Chapter 41

Wren

My eyes light up as I spot a small gift box on my bed. Tentatively, I walk the rest of the way into the room and pick it up.

Ribbons fly everywhere, and I gasp at the content of the box. A dainty silver necklace sits in the velvet cushion, with a pair of matching earrings.

Tears spring to my eyes, bottom lip jutting out in a pout as I hold the box up to the light.

"Ezra!" I call, marching out of my room and knocking on his door. "Open up."

His footsteps pad softly from behind the door, and he opens it. Dressed in a slack tank top, and sweat shorts, he leans on the frame but still manages to tower over me.

"Hey," he murmurs with a lazy smile, gaze dragging down my body in the familiar heated way.

I zone in on his dark nipples that peek out from the tank. "Your nipples are showing."

He looks down at it, then snorts. "Is that why you're here?"

"Right, no." I push the box in front of him. "Another gift?"

"Yea. Do you like it?" He smiles.

"Why am I getting another gift?"

He frowns, squinting at the box. "You don't like the colour? I just figured since I got gold the last time..."

I huff. "It's not the colour. This is the third gift in less than a week. Ever since we...you know...you've been giving me a lot of gifts."

"We what?"

I roll my eyes. "You know what I'm talking about."

"I do." He nods, leaning closer. "I want you to say it. Ever since we what, Birdie?"

"Ezra–"

"Say it."

He's so close now, breath fanning across my face.

I tuck my lips into my mouth, cheeks burning. "Why do you have to be this way?"

"If you can't say it, you shouldn't do it." A hand curls around my waist, yanking me until I'm flush against his chest. I gasp. "So say it."

Pressing my lips together, I glare at him, ignoring the very obvious reddening of my cheeks and neck.

"Since we had sex, Ezra," I snap. "Is that what you want to hear?"

He chuckles, resting his forehead on mine. "Yes, although you said it with a bite, but I'll take it."

"You better. So, why the gifts?"

He lifts a shoulder, a small smile on his face. "Just because."

My heart flutters, and I avert my gaze.

"You said the first gift was because I was sore," I murmur. "I'm not sore anymore."

"I know," he murmurs back, calloused fingertips slipping under my shirt, tracing the skin.

Goosebumps splatter across my body, stomach dipping. His hand moves higher on my back, the palm spreads as he continues his featherlight touches.

"W-why, Ezra?" I stutter, eyes nearly falling shut.

He breathes deep, and his hand exits my shirt. "Do you want me to be honest?"

"Yes." I jerk my head, pulling away from him but I don't get very far with his hand still curled around my waist.

"The truth is, I don't have any reason. Only that I love the way you storm into my room to complain about it."

A small smile forces its way to my face without permission. "But you've been avoiding me."

"How can I not?" He gives a short, bitter laugh. "What happened between us should not happen again but...have you seen yourself?" He shakes his head. "You're breathtakingly gorgeous Wren, it's overwhelming."

Heat settles in my chest, my throat dries. "Oh."

"How can I keep my hands to myself when I remember vividly every kiss, touch, breath...god Wren, you have absolutely no idea what you do to me."

As he speaks, my knees buckle, and I grab the hem of his shirt for balance.

Memories filter into my brain like a slide show, filthy image after filthy image, every ghost of a whisper, every thrust, every moan...

My pulse picks up.

"Why can't we c-continue?" I whisper, eyes dark and focused on his lips. "I don't mind."

He snorts, chuckling. Leaning closer, he plants a small kiss on my forehead. "If we give in the second time, we will give in the third time."

"And what's the problem? You've been keeping your distance like I have some disease—"

"You know I have to—"

"—but then you drop gifts on my bed so that I'll confront you. Is that your definition of foreplay?"

Pinching his eyes shut, his jaw tightens. "No. I'm in a bind here, Birdie. Your brother is my best—"

"You can't use that excuse anymore. You fucked me three days ago," I seethe, jabbing him in the chest, "and you fucking loved it."

He grabs my finger, and pulls me to him so hard the box falls from my head and clatters to the ground.

I land on his chest with a soft 'oof', mouth falling open.

"You're right." His hands trail the curve of my waist, hips, and ass. "I fucking loved it. Your mouth," he tugs on my lips, "your hands," he skims my arms down to my palms, "–and your cunt."

He taps me, and my legs spread apart on their own, heart pounding. But he doesn't touch me further than that.

And I want him to. So bad.

I swallow. "S-so what are you going to do ab-about it?"

Ezra walks me backward until I'm pressed against the wall, his thigh pushing between my legs.

"Nothing, birdie," he rasps, eyes hooded. "Absolutely nothing."

Then, his lips graze my neck, nipping gently.

"Th-this doesn't look like n-nothing."

"Shush, be quiet."

And he bites.

It doesn't hurt, hell, it's the opposite. Pleasure shoots up my spine as he sucks on the skin, my toes curling into the cool tile.

"Oh f-f-goddd...Ez—"

Suddenly, his large hands squeeze my ass.

A choked sound falls from my lips, eyes rolling to the back of my head while I grapple to hold onto his arms.

He doesn't let up on the kissing, sucking and biting.

Warmth settles in the pit of my stomach, a whimper slipping past my lips. I sink my hands into his hair, down his back, over his arms.

God, he feels good. Big, toned, hard...everywhere.

He lifts his lips, and my eyes flutter open. I wet mine, leaning in for a kiss but he cups my jaw, staring at my neck with a satisfied glint in his eyes.

A frown curls my lips downwards. "What are y—no!"

Realization dawns on me, and he grins. "You look prettier."

"You did not leave a hickey on my neck, Ezra! You absolutely did not do that!" I shout.

Pushing away from him, I march into his bathroom. And there, staring at my reflection, is a large, bright red hickey.

Mild pain tingles across my neck when I brush the spot.

Jesus, it's huge.

"Ezra!" I shriek, eyes wide. "Why would you do this?!"

His head pops in, and he presses his lips together, stifling a smile. "I got carried away."

"You're lying. You did this on purpose!"

"I would never," he gasps dramatically, a hand on his chest.

I glare. "You think this is funny?"

"On the contrary, you might be in trouble."

My eyes narrow, and I raise an intimidating brow at the sheepish expression on his face. "What?!"

"We're going to the clubhouse."

I blink at him, then at the hickey in the mirror. "Who's we?"

He snorts. "You and I. Ray says they're throwing a little party."

"So," I take a threatening step toward him, voice low, "you expect me to go to the clubhouse looking like this?" I jam a thumb in the direction of my neck. "What will I tell Ray?"

He steps back, eyes lighting up with humour while he bites down his lips.

"I want to say I'm sorry, but I'm really not."

I stop, hands fisted at my sides. "I'm giving you a three-second headstart, Ezra... Run."

"Three!"

He spins on his heels and hightails it out of the room, his laughter ringing out in the house.

My lips twitch, heart soaring.

"Two!"

Me? Pissed about a hickey from Ezra? Absolutely not.

"One!"

And I'm chasing after him as uncontrolled fits of giggles escape my lips.