Her knight in shining leathers!
Trinity Walker has learned the hard way to stand on her own two feet for her sick son, Oscar. But, when ex-army surgeon Reid Hamilton walks into her life and offers her a job and a home, she can’t refuse!
He might ruffle her feathers, but Trinity can’t help falling for the knight in motorbike leathers. Reid never expected this little family to bring such sparkle into his cynical life but now he’ll do whatever it takes to give Trinity the love she deserves this Christmas!
Trinity was in the kitchen making a banana cake when Reid came home. She tensed as she glanced at the clock – ten past two. His footsteps diverted to the living room and she heard the rumble of two male voices for a couple of minutes.
Then he appeared in the kitchen.
He hesitated for a moment when he spotted her at the bench before nodding and crossing to the fridge. He pulled out a beer, twisted the top and tossed it into the sink from where he stood.
It landed with a clink.
He tipped his head back and took several long swallows. It took all Trinity’s willpower to keep her eyes on the job at hand and not feast her gaze on his neck.
“You do know Chase flirts with every woman with a pulse, right?”
The sentence came from out of the blue. She’d been feeling happy since returning from Allura. But Reid seemed hell bent on ruining that, too.
“Gee thanks,” she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm as a spike of temper infected her blood stream. “You sure know how to make a girl feel real special.”
“Oh for -” He bit off whatever expletive he’d been about to utter. “I just meant you should be careful, the guy wouldn’t know monogamy if it bit him on the ass.”
“Who says I’m after monogamy?” she snapped.
He blinked, clearly taken aback. Good. A slightly crazed sensation pushed at the inside of her skull as an urge to let fly took hold. She’d learned not to argue over the years. Not to rock the boat. To grind her teeth and quietly submit.
But, screw him. She was really pissed off now.
“I would have thought being a single mum and having to think about Oscar –”
“Don’t bring Oscar into this.”
“I’m just saying,” Reid pushed, obviously not going to let it drop. “He’s not daddy material.”
“I’m not going to marry the man,” Trinity said, letting the spoon fall to the bench with a clatter as she crossed to the pantry and opened the doors.
She searched the shelves for vanilla. She knew it was in here because Reid used it to make French toast on the weekends.
God, she’d never be able to eat French toast again without thinking of him in this kitchen, beating eggs and flipping bread fried to a perfect golden brown.
Her anger cranked up another notch.
She glanced over her shoulder. Reid was glowering at her and it pissed her off even more.
“Maybe I just want to a quick tumble,” she said, her cheeks burning, her pulse throbbing wildly at her temples. “A few hours of goddamn pleasure. You ever thought of that?”
She turned back to stare blindly at the shelves.
Where was the bloody vanilla?
“Seeing as how you don’t fancy me,” she said, not bothering to turn this time because his rejection of her still stung, “why shouldn’t I look somewhere else?”
“Don’t fancy you?” His voice was deep and dark, brimming with pissed off.
Before she could blink his hands were on her shoulders and she was spun around and pushed hard against the pantry door. His face loomed up close, white hot flame burning in the blue eyes that raked her face. His breathing was husky, his chest heaving.
“I can’t get you out of my head,” he muttered, each word puffing his breath in her face, disturbing her fringe, “If you had any idea how much I wanted to rip your underwear off with my teeth the other night you’d run screaming from this house.”
Trinity’s heart rate skyrocketed as his grip on her upper arms tightened and his lips slammed onto hers.
It was a kiss that took. That ruled. That owned.
Possessive. Demanding. His tongue thrusting into her mouth, taking the kiss deeper. The graze of his beard marked her face, prickling everywhere.
She felt it everywhere.
She was a slave to the sensation. A slave to the onslaught.
His thigh jammed between her legs, high and hard, grinding against the apex of her thighs. She moaned as her aching flesh revelled in the delicious torture, rubbing herself shamelessly against him.
As quickly as it had started, it was over. His mouth was gone. The kiss was done. His hands still gripped her arms though, his thigh still jammed between her legs, the only things keeping her from collapse.
They stared at each other for long moments, nothing but ragged breathing between them. His mouth was wet and swollen, the white hot flame in his gaze burning brighter. He grabbed her hand and shoved it on the hard bulge pressing against the zipper of his bike leathers.
“This is not,” he whispered, “about me not fancying you.”
He let her go abruptly and stormed out of the room.
Trinity’s legs wobbled for a beat or two before they lost the ability to keep her upright and she slid down the pantry door to the floor, her fingers pressed to her mouth, her mind wiped of coherent thought.
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