Jessie was glad she’d worn her leather jacket. The night had a crisp chill. The lack of breeze was good, too, otherwise in this treeless clearing she’d be freezing. She stood closer to Diaz to ward off the chill as they talked with the guys. Surprisingly, he must have noticed her shivering, because he slung his arm around her and drew her close to the heat of his body. Maybe he was doing it for the mission, to cement the two of them as a couple. No way was she going to argue with whatever his reasons were. It felt good to be held by him, both from a comfort and an emotional standpoint. She needed his support.

Spence and Stephanie came over and they all grabbed spots on bales of hay. A couple of guys had guitars and started playing music. The night was clear, a million stars putting on a show overhead. Jessie leaned her head on Diaz’s shoulder, content to listen to the music and the deep reverberation of Diaz’s voice as he and Crush and Spence talked bikes and road trips they’d taken over the years.

“What about you?” Stephanie asked. “How long have you been riding?”

Jessie smiled. “Since I was sixteen and my . . . my brothers taught me.”

Stephanie nodded, tossing her red curls over her shoulders. “I had a boyfriend who loved bikes. I rode with him for a couple of years, but man, I hated riding behind him. I wanted my own bike. After we broke up, I gravitated toward bikers, and Crush hooked me up. I eventually found a guy who got me a bike of my own and I’ve been riding ever since.”

“It does get in your blood, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah, I guess so. Or maybe it’s the men who ride them. And ride us, too,” she said with a laugh, trailing a bloodred fingernail down Spence’s leather jacket.

Spence grinned down at Stephanie, who batted her lashes at him. Jessie rolled her eyes. Could the woman be more obvious?

Spence didn’t seem to mind the attention, though. As Stephanie laid her head against him and hugged her full breasts against his arm, Spence winked at Jessie. She shook her head and fought back a laugh.

“So how do you handle multiple . . . uh . . . boyfriends in the same gang?” Jessie asked.

Stephanie sat up and turned to Jessie. “Oh the guys don’t mind sharing. Sometimes things work out, sometimes they don’t, ya know? I mean, take Rex, for instance. He and I had fun, and then we didn’t anymore. He’s always so busy riding, especially late at night, going off who knows where. He likes his alone time, which so didn’t work for me. I need a stud warming my bed, you know what I mean? I don’t want a guy I can’t keep tabs on. So we ended things. No hard feelings, right Rex?”

Rex, sitting nearby, shrugged. “Uh huh.”

Jessie smothered a laugh. “I see. Well, that works out nicely for you, doesn’t it?”

Stephanie shrugged. “I’m a free spirit. Just ask any of the guys around here.”

So, she was a slut. Jessie fervently hoped Spence was using condoms, because ick.

Crush had long ago lit the bonfire, which warmed the area considerably. The flame shot high into the air and there was plenty of wood for it to burn the entire night. Jessie was content to watch the dancing orange and yellow flames reaching toward the sky. Guitar playing was still going strong, beer was still flowing, and people were even dancing, some close and sensually, some quite comically. Other couples were huddled under blankets or curled up on hay bales, making out or simply passed out.

Jessie occupied herself by watching the ones making out or doing who-knew-what under those blankets. She heard moans and whimpers and lots of movement under the covers, even caught glimpses of leathers being pulled down to the knees. There was definitely sex going on. Her body heated, and it wasn’t from the bonfire, but she couldn’t tear her gaze away from the raw, un-apologetic sensuality of watching couples get it on right in front of everyone.

“Voyeur,” Diaz whispered in her ear, drawing her back tighter against his body.

She smiled, but didn’t reply. Instead, she watched a man’s rear end lift up, slide down, then the look of utter rapture on his partner’s face in response. They danced as beautifully together in sex as the flames danced under the moonlit sky. It was a picture-perfect moment. She’d love to be that free, to be half naked under the covers with Diaz, making love and not caring about the world around them.

She sighed, shuddered at the sudden longing. Diaz wrapped his arm around her chest, and she closed her eyes, fighting the tears that pooled there.

“What’s wrong, baby?”

They were alone now. Spence and Stephanie had moved off to a dark corner somewhere. Crush and Rex were nowhere around. It was just the two of them on a stack of hay bales.

She shifted, half turned so she could see his face. Bonfire flames flickered in his dark eyes, giving him a devilish look.

“I need you,” she whispered, sliding her palm across his cheek, loving the feel of a day’s growth of beard scraping her hand. It gave her goose bumps.

He lifted her hand, kissed her open palm, then drew her onto his lap. “I’m here.”

“I want more.”

“I know.” He slipped his arm around her back, pulling her against his body, then trailed a finger along her jaw, capturing it in his hands. Inches from his face, she refused to initiate, wanted him to take.

He did, palming the back of her neck and drawing her the last few inches that separated them. When his lips touched hers, she ignited like the first flames of the bonfire, an explosion of heat, melting her instantly. And then he took it deeper, using his tongue to drive her crazy with soft, velvet strokes.

She was lost in sensation, in Diaz, but still cognizant of other people around, possibly watching them as she’d been doing with the other couples. She didn’t care. She pulled back, sat up, then wrapped her legs around him and held on to his shoulders so she faced him. His cock, hard and hot, nudged her thigh. She shuddered. So close, yet miles apart. “Do you know what happens during initiation into a gang like the Devil’s Skulls?”

“Yeah.”

She motioned her head toward the couple going at it under the covers nearby. “I don’t want my first time to be in public, Diaz. Please help me.”

He looked over her shoulder, watching for a few minutes, then looked at her again. “Shit. I hadn’t thought of that.”

She had. Countless times since given this assignment. A silly thing, probably, but it meant something to her.

“I’ve spent a lot of years imagining my first time, what it would be like. I don’t expect candlelight and romance or other girlish fantasies, but I sure don’t want it in front of an audience, either.”

“We’ll send you home, Jess. You don’t have to do this.”

Her eyes widened. “Are you serious?”

“Hell yes. No assignment is worth compromising your virginity.”

She shook her head. “You don’t understand.”

“What don’t I understand?”

“It’s not just the job. I mean, it is and it isn’t.”

“Explain it to me, then.”

“It’s in my way, this whole virginity thing. It’s like a cement block around my neck—always there. Yes, this particular assignment requires someone with more experience, something I definitely don’t have. But I can do the job, Diaz. Besides, it’s more than that. More than just this assignment and what it entails.” She laid her palms on his chest, felt the mad rhythm of his heart.

“I want you. I want this. I always have. I don’t want anyone else to make love to me but you. And that has nothing to do with our jobs or this assignment.”

His gaze shot toward the couple moaning under the covers, then back at her, his expression unfathomable. “We need to get going.”

She sighed, then climbed off his lap, refusing to say a word as they rode back to the hotel. What would be the point? She’d asked, and once again he’d slammed the door in her face.

She was out of options.

Jessie felt like a rock was sitting on her chest. She refused to cry. That was childish. She was going to have to accept the inevitable, and that was that. She couldn’t force Diaz to compromise his principles.

Diaz opened the door to their room and held it while she walked in. She’d barely stepped fully into the room before he grabbed her, kicked the door shut, and slammed her against it, taking her mouth in a kiss that left her breathless.

Whoa. Unprepared for his assault, she palmed his chest, then his upper arms, holding on for dear life as he pressed up against her—fully against her—his body lining up oh so perfectly, his cock already hard and insistent against her pussy.

Her senses went haywire as he jerked her leather jacket off, then his own, his lips still latched on to hers, his tongue sliding inside to ravage her mouth. She had no idea what was going on with him, but she wasn’t about to interrupt this bliss to ask. Not when he slid his hands along her waist and began to lift her shirt, his hands warm and searching upward, lifting the material as he did.

He rested his hand just under her breast. Her heart slammed against it. She tore her lips from his, panting, trying to catch her breath. As she did, she inhaled his scent. Outdoors, sweat, man—Diaz. Her knees felt weak. This was all so overwhelming, so incredible.

Could this really be happening? She had to know, had to be certain that this time . . .

“Diaz, what are you doing?”

“Shh,” he breathed against her ear. “Let me.”

Oh, God. She’d let him do anything. Her clit pulsed, her pussy quivered, her breasts swelled against her bra, waiting for his hands. So close. He laid his forehead against hers, his breath rough and rasping like hers.

He snaked an arm around her waist and lifted her, carried her into the room, deposited her on the bed. He moved away, bent down to remove her boots and socks, then stood again, going for her pants.

She wanted to ask, but didn’t dare, in case he changed his mind. If, in fact, he was going to—

He flipped the button open, drew the zipper down on her jeans, and began to pull. She lifted, helping him, watching him, the intense look of concentration on his face, as if this were the most important task of his life. Her jeans discarded, he kneeled over her, crawling up her body. His clothes were still on, and she was half undressed—why was it always that way? She reached for him, for his shirt, and this time, he paused to lift it over his head and toss it on the floor before proceeding on to her shirt, which he drew upward over her ribs, bending down to press his lips there. She closed her eyes and let out a whimper, loving the feel of his mouth touching her—anywhere.

When he drew up, his eyes were dark, glassy, filled with desire. He grasped the hem of her top and lifted it over her head, then undid the clasp of her bra, opening it, pulling it off, tossing her clothes around the room as he did. And with each revelation he captured her flesh in his mouth.

Her nipples stood erect, waiting for his mouth. He didn’t disappoint, bending over and dragging his tongue across them. She moaned at the exquisite contact, cried out when he took one nipple between his teeth, holding it there while he tortured it with flicks of his tongue until she couldn’t think straight anymore. Then he did the same thing to the other while kneading her breasts with his hands. It was torment feeling his hands and mouth on her. The pressure, his tongue, and his touch, it was all such sweet heaven. She lifted her butt off the bed, trying to grind her pussy against his hard cock. Maybe she appeared desperate, but she didn’t care. She knew what she wanted, and tonight she wouldn’t be denied.

But Diaz pushed her down, held her hips, continuing his slow and thorough torment of her nipples with his magical mouth.

“Please,” she cried, unable to stand it any longer. She was turned on, goddammit. She didn’t need any more foreplay.

He lifted, sat back on his heels, studying her, his face all harsh lines and incredibly sexy. How could he be so desirable when he wasn’t smiling? “What do you want, baby?”