Meet the characters:
Drifter is the VP and best friend of Hawk, the president of the Redemption Riders. His job is to protect Hawk and the club. He’s determined, and lethal when danger comes calling. Drifter has had feelings for Sasha since he first met her but immediately decided that she wouldn’t fit into the club lifestyle, but he can’t help but keep tabs on her.
Sasha has secrets of her own. Her life has thrown her a few curve balls, but she buries it deep, showing everyone the light-hearted woman she wants them to see. One night, the mask slips and Drifter is there to see the real Sasha.
Drifter and Sasha take a chance on happiness together, and the Redemption Riders with do whatever it takes to keep their family safe.
Feel the passion:
“I know you’re standing at the door, Sasha. Open up,” Drifter says with a sly grin. I step back to unlock the door, turn the knob, and face the most gorgeous man I’ve ever laid eyes on. All the Redemption Riders are hot, and although Hawk is super handsome, nothing compares to Drifter’s chocolate-brown eyes, tousled sandy-brown hair, and chiseled jaw, his full lips framed by a carefully trimmed beard. His body is toned and muscular. I know this because I’ve spent time perusing his tight butt in his jeans, and I’ve seen the way his shirts and tees cling to his defined abs.
“Uh, hi.” I sound like a moron. He looks amused by my discomfort. I find that annoying. I stiffen, lifting my chin. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”
His lips curl upward into a smile. That’s a rarity. His normal expression is that of a broody biker dude. Unfortunately, his smile is even better than his brooding expression.
He reaches out and brushes his strong, calloused fingers over my cheek. “Are you baking?”
I’m too busy trying not to pass out to register what he’s saying. I simply nod. “How—how do you know?” I croak. Oh my God, I sound like a loser!
“You got flour on your face.” Automatically, I move to wipe away the flour, and Drifter chuckles. “It’s cute.”
Cute? Since when am I cute?
“Are you going to ask me in?” he asks, waving his hand, indicating that we’re still in my tiny entryway.
I don’t trust my voice, but I step farther into the living room, leaving Drifter to shut the door and follow. Suddenly, I wonder if something has happened to Etain. I turn sharply, making him stop abruptly so he almost knocks into me. He reaches out and grabs my waist to keep us both from falling.
“Etain—” I gasp.
“Babe, Etain’s fine. She’s probably still in bed.” He watches me carefully. “Honest, sunshine. I wouldn’t lie to you.”
I exhale. “It’s just that she’s my best friend, and she’s been through so much.” Drifter cocks his head to one side, remaining silent. I’m not used to silence around other people. Mostly, my family is never at a loss for words. Simon carries much of our conversations, but with Simon, it’s a lot easier to be myself, and we do have great talks. Even Etain is happy to chatter, and I love listening to her. “Why are you looking at me like that?” I ask, very aware of his hands on me.
Drifter’s eyes flit from me to my kitchen, where everything is laid out on my counter. “Were you making breakfast?”
“Cookies.”
He watches my mouth, and I swear he wants to kiss me. If he does, I think I’ll pass out. I’ve dreamt about the feel of his lips on mine. I dated, but it’s been a long time since I let a man kiss me. They were nice men, but their kisses did nothing for me. Never wanting to lead a man on, I made it clear immediately that friendship was all I could offer. Sometimes I would get a follow-up call, but when it was clear that my position wouldn’t change, the phone calls stopped.
With Drifter, I know his kiss would wreck me. It would be a kiss like no other, and after it was over, I’d relive the memory for years to come. But he doesn’t move, and his smile emerges.
“Can I help? If I do a good job, I might get to eat one or two.”
I can’t believe what I’m hearing. Drifter wants to stay and bake cookies? It’s absurd!
“You want to bake cookies with me?” I squeak.
He lets go of me and saunters toward the kitchen. And it must be said, he saunters better than any other man I’ve ever seen. I pull myself together and move to the bowls I set out earlier for the next batch of cookies I was preparing to make.
“What are we making?” he asks.
“Cinnamon pinwheel cookies,” I murmur, cracking the eggs into the bowl. I nod over at the flour. “Can you measure out the flour? The recipe is right beside it.” Drifter grabs the measuring cup and starts his task. I’m at a loss for words. Drifter and I have never been alone, and up to this point, he’s never shown any interest in me. I need to ask why he’s here, but at the same time, I’m afraid to hear his reply. I summon the courage and, as casually as possible, say, “So, why the surprise visit?”
“We’ll get to that,” he replies, then asks where he can find the sugar. For the next hour, we bake together. He uses his phone to stream music and picks out songs with the word sugar in it. Titles like Sugar, Sugar and Pour Some Sugar on Me, and, of course, Brown Sugar. I find myself laughing and guessing at what the next song is going to be.
We work well together, and as the first batch comes out of the oven, the delicious aroma fills the air. The scent of cinnamon with the freshly brewed coffee makes my belly grumble, reminding me that I haven’t eaten yet. I grab a cookie and hand it to him, then take one for myself.
Drifter waits for me to take the first bite, then his own. He devours the cookie in two bites and is on his third by the time I finish my first. He takes my hand and leads me to my sofa, gesturing for me to sit. He goes back for our coffee, hands me my cup, and sets the plate of cookies on the coffee table, then sits next to me. He’s so close, our thighs are touching, but then again, it’s not a big sofa, and he takes up a lot of space.
“You’re shy.” Drifter breaks the silence.
“I’m not really shy. Just… well… I’m more the kind of girl who speaks when I have something to say. I’m not sure what to say. I don’t understand why you’re here, and you’ve been avoiding me since you first met me.” There, I said it. The air needs to be cleared, and since I’m on a roll, I let it fly. “I like Etain, and it’s been a long time since I had a friend I trust and care about. I don’t want to give that up, and since you and Hawk are tight, that means we need to find a way to coexist. I’m not sure what that looks like to you, but we,” I wave my hand between us, “have to find a happy medium.” He takes the mug out of my hands and puts it on the table, then places his hand under my chin, tilting my head up to look at him. Before I know it, his lips are on mine in a slow, sweet kiss. His lips are soft and firm, not intrusive, but deliciously teasing. I find I’m kissing him back.
Leaves you wanting more:
“I want you to spend the night, but because you want to, not because you feel obligated,” I tell him.
“I don’t want to rush you into something you’re not ready for. The back of his hand caresses my cheek. “I’m not a soft guy. I don’t do sweet. I’m not even sure I can be a good boyfriend to a woman like you. All that being said, if I take you to your bedroom and make you mine, I’m not going to be able to let you go. I’m rough and wild. I’m not going to change.”
“Maybe I like wild.” I press my lips to his. I initiated our kiss, but Drifter takes it to a whole new level of passion. He wraps his fingers in my tresses, molding his mouth to mine. I become greedy, pressing my chest up against his, my arms banding around his neck, while a needy mewl escapes my throat.
He glides me backward with my back to the cushioned sofa, still kissing me fervently. We move our lips this way and that, unable to get enough of each other. He tears his mouth from mine, and I utter a reluctant moan. Drifter moves his tongue and lips over my neck. A shudder of excitement runs through me as he finds the sensitive cord. All the while, his hands move over my body. His hand comes underneath my top, and his calloused fingers run along my bare skin.
I wriggle beneath his touch, silently begging for more. I glide my own hands down his back, reaching for the hem of his T-shirt, pulling it up. His taut muscles are firm, strong, and defined as I slowly explore.
Suddenly, he’s hovering over me, intense desire burning in his eyes. He’s gloriously beautiful. His jaw is chiseled, his lips are full, and the soft bristles of his whiskers feel good against my skin.
His voice is low, sexy, and raw, and when he asks, “Wanna take a ride on the wild side, sunshine?”
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