Read Baby For The Biker Bad Boy (Bad Boy MC Romance) for Free Online Page B

seeking hers again. It took a second, but they found a rhythm that was perfect. Pleasure rolled through her lower belly, pleasure that grew and grew with each movement. After just a few moments, she had to break away from his lips, had to suck in a few deep breaths and then…she couldn’t stop the moans that wanted to burst from her throat. And then…Scribe buried his mouth against her shoulder, the vibration of his own moans moving through her flesh deep into her bones.
    They lay there wrapped in each other’s arms for a long time as their breathing slowed and their heartbeats returned to something close to normal. Scribe rolled onto his side and pulled her with him until she was nestled against his shoulder.
    “I’m sorry. I meant for this to happen somewhere a little less dirty than this.”
    Nola kissed the center of his chest. “It’s okay.”
    “It’s not okay. You should have champagne and strawberries.”
    “I don’t particularly like champagne. I’m more of a red wine girl.”
    “Yeah, well…” He kissed her forehead. “You deserve the world.”
    “I don’t want the world. I want you.”
    “I don’t know why.”
    She kissed his shoulder and then his throat, letting her lips slide over his jaw. “You’ll figure it out one of these days,” she whispered against his ear.
     
     
     

Chapter 6
     
    Scribe had to go out of town the next day, something about a job in Waco. He came to her in the early morning hours, holding her against his chest as he sat on his bike.
    “Nathaniel,” he whispered against her ear.
    “What?”
    “My name. It’s Nathaniel Hawthorne Watson.”
    “Wow.” She pulled back, amusement dancing in her eyes as she brushed a few strands of hair out of his face. “That’s quite a name. But I guess I understand why they chose Scribe.”
    He shrugged. “My mom, she didn’t read much, but she carried around this book of short stories written by all these great writers: Mark Twain, William Faulkner, Truman Capote…she loved the idea of them.”
    “Nathaniel.” She kissed him gently. “It fits.”
    He kissed her again and then pushed her away, standing to take something from one of those handy compartments on the back of his bike. He turned, shaking out a smaller version of his leather jacket and draped it around her shoulders. “Now you’re one of us,” he whispered against her ear.
    Nola giggled softly as he stole her lips once more, his arms wrapping so tightly against her that it felt like he might never let go. But then he did, quickly climbing onto his bike and rushing off in a roar, as though he was afraid if he didn’t go quick, he wouldn’t go at all.
    Nola stood there for a long time, that jacket tucked around her body, feeling both protected and abandoned.
    Her mother was sitting at the kitchen table when Nola finally walked back into the house.
    “You’re up early.”
    Nola nodded.
    “Everything okay?”
    Again, she just nodded, not really sure how to answer that question. Without Scribe—Nathaniel—there, by her side, she was never sure about anything.
    ***
    The days passed slowly. Nola tried to be good, tried to motivate herself to go to class each day, but it quickly became something of a struggle. Whenever she heard a motorcycle engine pass on the street outside her house or the classroom, she could rarely resist the urge to run and look. Was it Nathaniel? Had he come back for her? But it never was.
    She began to worry that he’d forgotten about her.
    One day, she drove to campus and gathered her things, running through her mental checklist to be sure she had everything she needed and then…she just couldn’t make herself walk into that building. It all just seemed so pointless all of a sudden. Nathaniel might be out there putting his life on the line for some illegal act and she was sitting in a calculus class learning about things she would probably never use in her professional life. It seemed absurd.
    Instead, she went to the lake and