Page 15 of Biker Daddy's Girl

"But, don't you have roommates or something? I really don't want to intrude, and I don't want anyone to get the wrong idea."

I shake my head, resisting the urge to laugh. "I live alone, sweetheart. There's no one here but me."

"Oh." She pauses. "So I'd be staying with you?"

"You'd have your own room, of course."

She looks relieved. "Okay, well, if you're sure. I'd hate to put you out."

"You're not putting me out," I reassure her, taking her hand. "In fact, I'd be honored if you stayed. But only if you want to, Emma."

"I do." She squeezes my hand, smiling shyly. "I trust you, Luke."

Something flares in my chest at her words, and I fight the urge to pull her closer. Instead, I give her hand one last squeeze and lead her down the hall. "Right this way."

I show Emma to the guest room, a little space tucked away at the end of the hallway. There's a bed, a dresser, and a small desk. It's a little plain, maybe—I haven't had a lot of visitors—but it's clean and comfortable.

Emma looks around the room, exhaling in relief at seeing a bed. "It's perfect, Luke, thank you. I can't believe how kind you're being to me."

I shake my head. "It's nothing.”

She smiles up at me, and for a moment, we just stare at each other, the air charged with something powerful. It’d be so easy to take her hand and lead her to the bed. Then, she clears her throat, looking away.

"Well, um, thank you, Luke. For everything. I don't know what I would have done without you tonight."

"It was my pleasure, Emma. Anything you need, just ask."

Emma nods, a faint blush coloring her cheeks. "Well, I guess I should try to get some sleep”

"Get some rest. My room is just across the hall if you need anything, alright?" Like me to bury my face between your legs?

"You’re too sweet."

She offers me a soft, tired smile before closing the door. I linger in the hallway for a moment, feeling like something important has just happened. It's more than rescuing her, more than inviting her to stay—the bond between us growing, becoming harder to ignore.

In my bedroom, I strip off my leather jacket and flop down on the bed. It's been a long night and day, too. I'm exhausted. But at the same time, a part of me wants to rush back into the hall, throw open the door to Emma's room, and take her in my arms.

I let out a groan, scrubbing my face. Now is not the time.

Rolling onto my side, I stare out the window, trying not to think about how close Emma is. Only a wall separates us. So close, but at the same time, so far.

I let out a huff, punching the pillow and flopping onto my back. It's no good, though. No matter how many times I tell myself to sleep, my mind keeps racing.

I don't know why, but from the moment I first saw Emma, I've been drawn to her. There's something about her. The soft curves of her body, the delicate features of her face, the sweet way she bites her lip when she's nervous. I've been trying to push those thoughts down, telling myself that she needs me to take it slow. But I just want to take, take, take, until she’s mine in every possible way. What am I going to do? What in the hell am I going to do?

6

EMMA

It’s morning. The bed, the room, and the ceiling above me are completely new and unfamiliar. Oddly enough, I don't feel uncomfortable like I thought I would. I don't even feel nervous.

Luke was nothing short of a gentleman last night, making sure I was settled into my own room before going to bed. But Luke is more than that, isn't he? He's got an intensity, an aura about him, that draws me in like a moth to a flame. His broad shoulders and strong jaw make my knees go weak, and when he speaks in his deep, husky voice, my stomach flutters.

As wonderful as the sleep was, it wasn't nearly long enough. The curtains are open, and as the sun rises, it creeps into the room and makes it way too bright to continue sleeping. So, at the ridiculous time of 6:30 AM, I'm awake.

There’s a drop in my stomach as I remember the fire last night. Then there's the overwhelming relief of knowing I'm safe and Luke is in the house with me.

My heart races as I make my bed. It's not something I really care about most days, but right now, the action of pulling the comforter straight and plumping my pillows feels strangely calming. As though if everything around me is in order, then things are going to be okay.