“Why the hell are you laughing?” I demand, through gritted teeth. She bites her lip and the pretty blush on her face brightens. I bet I could make it flush deeper. Fuck.

​

It takes a second for the blood to come back to my brain but when it does, I shoot my foot out to block the door again even though she no longer looks as if she plans on slamming it.

​

“You caught me by surprise.” She’s slightly out of breath from her laughter and I think it’s the first time I’ve seen her without her full armor. And just as I thought, she’s even more fucking enchanting. What goddamn man says enchanting?

​

I frown, trying not to notice her chest heaving and cross my arms. “I did, did I?”

​

“You’re rather sneaky, Mr. Biker.”

​

I almost smile back.

​

Almost.

​

“What I am, Ms. Harlow, is pissed off.” Her eyes dart to my crossed arms and back to my eyes.

​

“I can see that.” She bends, looking closer at the tattoo that runs down my bicep to my forearm. “This little guy here looks almost as if he’s winking when you stand like this.”

​

I growl, my brow furrowing in exasperation. “Can you please stop ogling my tattoo and pay attention to me?”

​

“I thought that was the point of tattoos. To be ogled.”

​

Again, she catches me off guard. “No. No more than when a woman dresses up for herself—to feel pretty and men think it’s a fucking invitation to hit on them.”

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“Oh.” A glint in her eye warns me something saucy is coming. “So, you got them to feel pretty? Not to get hit on though.”

​

“No, I—fuck—you’re changing the subject!” I feel almost as if I’ve been on one of those spinning rides Reece like so much, that make the world dance around you for a few minutes while you regain your equilibrium, but when I do…

​

I narrow my eyes, grab the door and close the space between us so much I can smell her coconut shampoo. “You’re not biting my head off for once, Sunshine,” I say smoothly. “Which tells me I’m correct in assuming you’re the reason my day has started so badly.”

​

She gives me a small shrug and then pushes, yes pushes, me out of the way to walk out onto the deck. “Then we’ve got something in common there.”

​

“So, you admit it?” I demand, even though I’m off kilter again, mostly at her boldness but also at how fucking amazing she smells.

​

“I admit nothing, but do tell, Mr. Biker. What is amiss with your day? Did Jake wake you again?” She thumbs a spot beside the deck where some chickens are pecking the ground. “Believe me, I’m just as put out by him.” She follows the statement with a roll of her eyes.

​

Now my brows shoot up. “What is amiss?” I repeat, a little dumbly, but then pause. “And Jake is your fucking rooster, you’re not allowed to be put out by him.” Her face flashes a quick smile that irks me but when she bites her lip saucily I’m once again reminded my cock loves feisty women and this one is as feisty as they come.

​

“While Jake is the bane of my existence, he is not mine.” She shoots the rooster a hard glare as if to prove her point. “If it weren’t for the fact that my Gran would come back from the grave and beat my ass, I’d have had that guy in a roasting pan by now.”

​

“Forget the damn rooster!” I pause her words sinking in. “But put the ‘beat your ass’ on hold, we’re going to discuss that after.”

Her eyes widen but only for a second.

​

“What’s amiss is my cancelled lumber order!” My voice rises at the end, so I check my temper by gathering a breath, then point a long finger at her. “And you cancelled it.” The scowl on my face deepens as she bats her eyelashes, feigning confusion.

​

“Your lumber order?” Her delicate hand lands over her heart, a shocked expression on her face. “I would never.”

​

Christ! If it didn’t mean a fucking assault charge, I would most definitely have her squirming across my lap learning exactly how frustrating she actually is. And then I’d like to… My dick lurches, knowing my mind’s direction, so I stop my train of thought and focus on my anger.

​

“This isn’t a game, Tessa. I’m not one of the characters in your books.” I grab the book off the deck and shove it at her. “Sabotaging me isn’t amusing and won’t make a fun story for your fancy friends. It’s just pissing me off.” And getting me super fucking horny, my dick adds.

​

“And you don’t want to see me any more pissed off than I already am, little girl. Or I might take a page from Tank Long’s book.” I point at the romance novel now in her hand. “Seem Tank and I have a lot in common when it comes to how we like to deal with naughty women.”

​

There’s a flash of heat in her eyes, something she only let escape in her shock and before I can even consider the look, she gains back her control.

​

Her eyes peruse me up and down. It’s not in disgust, but not in appreciation either. Ms. Royalty is deliberately assessing me like a I’m nothing more than a teapot at a garage sale, not only gaging whether I’m worth the price, but also whether she even needs a new teapot at all, and she’s doing it just to put me in my place. Just like I used ‘little girl’ to knock her off her high horse, which—fuck me—only backfired since my dick liked it way too much.

​

“I’m not a damned teapot!” I yell, once again, losing control of my normally cool temper.

​

“Most certainly not! You’re a man.” She pulls a face—one that looks as if she’s assessing my sanity. “Dear Mr. Biker, do you need an ambulance?” She reaches forward, clamping her hand on my biceps. Her touch sends a jolt of warmth through me right to my cock. Fuck me, this woman is too hot and too damn feisty. “You couldn’t possibly be mistaken for something as delicate as that. Why look at the size of these—” She licks her lips. “Pythons.”

​

With her words I stumble back a few steps. Does she know who I am? Was, who I was. Has she researched me? Found out I was undercover as Python Keller? I blink as she carries on talking.

​

“…but you certainly would make a lovely character. The readers love big dominant tattooed protagonists these days.” She swallows hard, taking a slow but heaving breath as if the memory undoes her a little. But then she’s back to stuffy ol’ Tess and releases that breath dramatically. “But I write historical romance and tattoos like yours—” She pauses to brush one of her hands over my arm, this time delicately. “Would not be historically accurate.”

​

“So, tell me then… how did men historically deal with badly behaved women?” I grab her above the elbow as she releases me so she can’t escape. Swallowing audibly, her eyes flash with uncertainty. The electric zap of our touch hits me again hard in the gut, giving me further urges. And it’s not to spank her sassy ass this time. Instead, I want to give it a dirty squeeze and kiss her. Not a nice kiss either. No, I want to own that saucy mouth, boss it around with my own because she is so damned over the top I can’t keep my head from spinning.

​

I shake my head, once again clearing it of those unhelpful thoughts. She’s playing me. From standoffish, to arrogant and demanding, to flirty and teasing — even if it’s mostly condescending—and now she’s acting all uncertain and timid. And the contradiction does things to me.

​

If it’s a game you want, Tessa Harlow… Without fully thinking it through, I grab the back of her neck with rough fingers, my palm resting just above her collar bone and pull her face so close to mine I can feel her hot breath. “Would one of your characters do this?”

​

I kiss her. The punishing kind I’ve been fantasizing about. And it feels so good to have her physically under my control.

​

She stiffens and shoves against my pecs, but I don’t release her, I only wrap my other hand around her hip and wrench our bodies closer. Hers is soft, even as she struggles. But when her pulse turns from fluttering beneath my palm to pounding, I know she’s not going anywhere. She kisses me back, and damn, this uppity historical romance author can kiss!

​

She moans against my mouth, her hand no longer pushing, but curling into the material of my shirt and fisting as if she’s holding me there. But it’s not necessary because, hell, not even a crowbar could pull me off her now. I move my hand from her hip to grab a handful of her ass, and squeeze. A mewl escapes her mouth and it goes straight to my cock, which is as hard as rod iron right now.

​

“Is that your hammer or are you happy to see me?” she whispers breathlessly as I pluck at her lips with my own. I chuckle because my hammer is hanging from my tool belt but we both know that’s not what she’s referring to. I move to her neck, my tongue tasting her sweet skin, and she practically purrs, her fingers gripping me tighter.

​

Tessa tips her head back on a needy moan, not only giving me more access but encouraging it. I growl against her soft skin and kiss her at the junction on her neck and shoulder. I grunt as she buries her hands into my hair. Tugging a little too roughly, she tries to bring me back to her mouth. I swat her ass, sharply.

​

“Behave, little girl.” I nip her but give her my mouth. She shivers at my words and hitches her leg up so I can grab her thigh and pull her hot center against my throbbing cock. Now, I moan, because Jesus fuck, we can’t keep going like this, right here on her porch. I’m seconds away from tearing off her clothes, setting her ass on the railing, and driving my cock so deep inside her, she’ll sees stars—no, she’ll see fucking galaxies.

​

I loosen my grip, and she pulls back, suddenly all stiff and self-controlled again. Smiling sardonically, she tries to hide the fact that she’s off kilter but it’s in the way she breathes, swallows too hard, and has to concentrate to keep her back straight.

​

“If you weren’t such a masterful kisser and you didn’t discombobulate me quite so much with your expertise, you’d be on your knees clutching your man ovaries. But as it turns out, I haven’t been kissed liked that in a very long time, maybe never. And I quite liked it.”

And as if that isn’t shocking enough, she adds, “It seems I might like it rough with a sexy, dominant, tattooed biker.” She twists her head to the side. “I am curious though. Why do you taste like butterscotch candies? I thought only old people liked them.” With a small smirk on her red swollen lips, she adds, “You can get the hell off my property now.”