His cock was already hard again, pressed against her belly, reminding her of what he’d just demanded. While her head told her to resist on principle, her mouth watered in delicious anticipation. Without another thought, she licked her lips as she dropped onto her knees. His hands came down on the back of her head, forcing her toward him, and she flicked out her tongue and touched it to the tip of his erection. Nothing had ever tasted so good.

—

Anticipation tightened in Travis’s gut as Billie swirled her tongue around his dick, her hand gripping him at the same time, heightening the pleasure. Her touch heated his skin far more than the hot water that rained down on top of them and he let his head fall back, trying to lose himself in the sensations.

He’d demanded she give him a BJ because he’d wanted to regain the control he’d felt slipping away as he’d ridden her. He hadn’t been kidding when he told her it was the first sex he’d had in a bed in a long while, and the confession had stunned him as much as it had her. In fact, he could barely remember the last time he’d shared a bed with a woman. But it hadn’t just been the location. The sex had been different, too—he’d felt a closeness to Billie he hadn’t felt with any of his sex partners before. He hadn’t just been pleasing her so that he could then get his rocks off; he’d been pleasing her because he wanted to. Needed to.

And that scared the bejesus out of him.

It made things personal, which was something he couldn’t allow. Sex for him had never been personal. It had always been about the release, ridding his body of the pent-up tension that seemed to perpetually live inside him. He got angry, and he needed an avenue to expel that anger. Sex was the lesser of two evils, better than beating up on someone, which was the other surefire way to achieve the same result. Although he couldn’t imagine pounding someone would ever feel as good as fucking Billie had. Or as good as what she was now doing with her mouth and tongue.

He groaned and steadied his hands against the wall of the shower cubicle, the cool tiles a sharp contrast to the heat inside him. Her grip tightened on the bottom of his cock as she sucked him whole into her mouth. She swirled her tongue and then started to suck as if she were as desperate to get him off as he was to get off. He glanced down and the sight of her head moving back and forth in rhythm as she increased her speed almost pushed him over the edge, but he clamped down on his lower lip, wanting to prolong this as much as he could.

But holy fuck, she was good. It was without a doubt the best head he’d ever had, and as she glanced up and met his gaze, he realized he wasn’t in control here at all. She might be the one on her knees, but he was entirely at her mercy.

Billie wasn’t anything like the kind of woman he usually fooled around with. She was fun, sweet and naturally beautiful without the need for makeup and slutty clothes. She was softer than the women he sometimes worked with and fiercer than those he usually took to bed. Yet she wasn’t like a biker bitch, either. He couldn’t imagine her ever wanting to wear a patch that read “Property of Cash.” But damn, what a thought…He’d never wanted anyone to wear such a patch anyway and he still didn’t. He was a one-man band, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t indulge in a little more monkey sex with the little gallery owner while he was in town. Didn’t he deserve a distraction from all the other crap?

If it was possible, she smiled around his cock, licking and then gently nipping the tip before once again swallowing him whole. He lost it. Unable to fight it a moment longer, any grip he had on control spiraled into oblivion. He pressed his hands harder against the tiles as he arched into her mouth and exploded.

“Fuck! Billie!” Her name echoed around the room, but he almost didn’t recognize his own voice. She swallowed and then he reached down, dragging her up and holding her against him. He pressed his mouth to hers—if anything, his need for her growing stronger—and tasted himself on her lips.

“Was that okay?” she asked, when they broke apart for air.

He gazed down at her, admiring the perfect curve of her shoulder, the beautiful swells of her breasts. Was she kidding? How could she imagine that was anything but?

“Yes,” he told her. “It was fucking spectacular.”

She rubbed her lips together and then put her hands on his chest. She stared down at his tattoos and he stilled as she traced her fingers over the massive eagle with its wings outstretched across his chest, perched atop the Harley-Davidson logo. But her gaze moved to the fleur-de-lis on his arm. She touched a finger to it.

“If you hate New Orleans so much, why this?”

He stared down at her finger. “I didn’t always hate it,” he admitted. “Growing up it wasn’t exactly a fucking paradise, but that wasn’t the city’s fault. And then when I joined the MC, I really felt like this was where I belonged.”

“So what changed? Why did you leave the club?”

He sucked in a breath. For some fucked-up reason he felt like telling her about the job they’d done ten years ago and the spiral of events that had followed—that it hadn’t exactly been his choice to walk. But he didn’t talk about his time in the Deacons or what had happened with anyone. He shrugged. “It was time. I wanted a different life for myself. A fresh start.”

She nodded as if accepting this. “You don’t mind the branding on your back?”

He shook his head. “No matter who I am now, the MC is a part of me. Always will be.”

“Which is why you’re still here?”

“Yes, that’s why I’m still here.” And the only good thing about that was the woman in his arms. If she agreed to it, he might as well make the most of the electricity between them while he was around. He’d just be careful that he was the one calling the shots.

“Are you any closer to finding out who murdered Mr. Lombard?”

Travis froze, his cock, which had already been perking up again, softening. “What the hell do you know about that?”

Despite his tone, she didn’t even flinch. “If you and your friends wanted it to be secret, you should have kept your voices down the night they were over.”

Fuck! He’d been so focused on the situation, he hadn’t thought about Billie overhearing.

“Relax,” Billie said, running her hands over him again. “If his death wasn’t an accident, then the murderer needs to be brought to justice. I just hope you find the right guy. Or guys. And maybe consider handing them over to the cops instead of enacting justice yourself. Do you think that other biker club could be involved?”

Travis captured her mouth again with his. This conversation was over. Even if she wasn’t about to report them to the cops, he didn’t want her in any way involved with the investigation of Priest’s death. Another reason to find the culprit ASAP and get the hell back out of NOLA.

She forgot about her questions pretty quickly and they stayed in the shower, playing dirty until the water ran cold. Then, against his better judgment, Travis followed Billie back to her room, climbed into her bed, spooned up against her naked body and went to sleep with Baxter curled up on the floor beside them.

Chapter 8

Billie didn’t want to get out of bed. It wasn’t just that muscles she didn’t know she had ached from their overnight workout or the fact that she felt so tired she didn’t know if she’d be able to string a sentence together today. It was that she didn’t want to extricate herself from Travis’s arms. Lying as she was, she could feel something deliciously hard pushing into her back, but his heavy, even breathing told her he was still fast asleep. Waiting until he was awake and then dealing with that hard thing was more appealing than anything else. An illicit shiver washed through her at the thought, but Baxter had his paws up on the bed and she knew from experience that any moment now he would start licking her face. He’d already let her sleep in longer than she usually did.