“Dex,” I whispered.

His hand moved across my back to slide completely under the cotton of my panties again, his thumb rubbing a lazy circle on the skin beneath it.

“Dex!” Yeah, that didn't sound convincing at all.

“Please go back to sleep.” The heat of his mouth only intensified by a ratio of a thousand to one as he mumbled in reply. My poor body couldn’t handle having big, warm Dex cuddling up to me.

“I’ll go sleep on the couch.”

He growled a response, making me break into goose bumps.

“Dex, c’mon.” I tried to plead but didn’t budge an inch.

He didn’t say anything, his thumb just continued its languid circles right smack in the middle of my cheek. If anything, I think his upper body got even closer to mine. “Relax, babe,” he finally mumbled.

Like that was going to happen. My entire body was tense. Telling myself that this wasn’t right was like fighting the pull of the ocean’s tide. It felt unnatural. “I can't.“

"You can." Dex's smooth palm cupped my cheek and I sucked in a breath. Why the hell was I fighting this?

“I don't know what I'm doing," I blurted out, slamming my eyes shut.

His chuckle was smooth and dark. "I know, my sweet baby."

I should have just given up living after that. Living, fighting, existing. All of it.

Before I realized what he was doing, his hand was out of my panties, the weight of his body was peeled off my back. Two large, familiar hands clasped onto my ankles immediately afterward, flipping me onto my back.

And then he was over me.

On his hands and knees, his beautiful, rugged face full of thick, black stubble was right there. Supple lips, Crayola Blue eyes and Uriel all greeted me.

If all that wasn't enough to grip my spine, he was shirtless. His smooth, sunkissed skin was taut over hard, carefully crafted muscles he worked on most of the week in his home gym. But then he loomed over me, without the rust of a new friendship like it'd been in Austin. Hell, it wasn’t the same from the week before after his niece’s birthday party…

Oh boy. Oh. Boy.

I’d seen him shirtless not too long ago and it didn’t matter at all because his upper body was one of those things that got better every time I saw it.

The first thing I noticed again were the small stainless steel hoops through his perfect, dark ni**les. Little ni**les on a muscular chest and above a flawlessly ridged six-pack. A six-pack that led to the sweet slabs of v-shaped muscles that disappeared beneath black boxers...that did nothing hide to the massive tent his groin was pitching.

And then I remembered he had his dick pierced.

How the hell I didn’t pass out would be an unsolved mystery. What wasn’t an unsolved mystery was why my mouth went dry. I’m sure that I stopped breathing. Any man or woman would have done the same.

Dex was… better than anything I'd ever seen on print or television. I could even say celestial if he didn't look like he'd work for the devil instead of the good guys. The dark and colorful lines that spanned nearly all of his upper body heightened his hauntingly ethereal beauty. Over the course of the last couple of months, I’d never seen him wearing anything less than jeans and a t-shirt at all times besides our stint in Houston and the other time we slept in bed together.

And in that moment I was thankful it had taken so long for me to see him so up-close. Each of the sleeves I’d seen day in and day out bled up and over his shoulders, traps, and pecs. Only his stomach was left without the thick black, blue, gray, and red ink that painted his skin. Uriel, his tattooed octopus, welcomed me in with his big, beautiful details and classic, striking red flesh.

I dragged my eyes from the sharp colors down to his crotch, and then back up again. I found him watching me with those heavy-lidded bright blue eyes.

“Goddamn.” His voice had taken on a husky tone that sounded like it was more than just sleep dragging it in. "In what f**kin’ universe did I think I could listen to your brother?"

Holy lord.

Apparently, even though I was able to keep from passing out at the glory caging me in, my voice had died a thousand deaths at the perfection that Dex Locke was. So I had to answer him with a shaky, nervous smile.

“Iris.”

Oh dear god.

“I'd never hurt you, baby,” Dex murmured.

Jesus. This was unreal.

I wanted him, which was bad, because I knew that I should walk away and act like a decent lady. Like a lady who had seen her mother crumble under the effects that a biker could have on a heart—on an existence. But the man above me wasn't a quitter. He was loyal and caring, and his protection wrapped me up in a cocoon that was all fire and feeling. I could live without it, sure. I could live without it and be perfectly fine, but...that sounded like hell.

I'd take it, damn it. I'd take this Dex with his awful temper that never made me doubt that he worried and cared though he didn't know how to handle himself most of the time. My body decided to compromise and accept the reality of the tattoos and the focus of the blue eyes that were hooking me in.

Dex watched me caught like a deer in the headlights, unmoving and scared. The lines of his body were my siren’s song, keeping me in his web as he stayed in place so still. His abs, his biceps, his muscular thighs—which I quickly appreciated in a sweeping gaze—all called to me.

He snagged my wrist with one hand, gripping the back of my neck with his other. The heat from his body radiated through my clothes, through the foot of distance between us. It didn’t help that I could smell that distinct Dex scent more closely than ever before.

“Knew the moment I saw you, standin' outside the shop, scared, that you were an innocent little thing. So sweet. So good." He lowered his head to take my chin between his teeth. "You got no idea what it's like for you to give me your trust, Ritz. If I was a good man I'd tell you to find somebody better, somebody that won't lose their shit over an ass**le eye f**kin' you."

His tongue traced the oval shape of my chin. "But I'm not a good man, and I'm gonna take everythin' you want to give me and everythin' you don't."

Strike me dead. Dead, dead, dead.

His voice was so gruff and raw, the effect was like having a million Christmas tree lights lit along my nerves. And his words. Holy crap. My brain cells couldn’t even process what he was saying without making me lose my breath.

Dex’s forehead touched mine gently, as if he could sense the emotion bubbling inside of me. “I want it all, baby.”

My breath was shuddered on an exhale, looking up at the rugged beauty of Dex’s perfectly shaped mouth just centimeters away from me. “Why?” I had to remind him.

“Why?” he asked in that milky, warm tone.

“I don't get why you like me. I'm not your type.” Because that was my only defense. I’d never wanted anything, let alone anyone the way I wanted this tattooed, brusque man. But a huge part of me was really worried about why he’d latched onto me.

He chuckled deep. “Fishin' for compliments again?” His warm breath washed over my lips.

"No."

I could feel him smile against me. “'Course not," he murmured, biting my bottom lip. "Where do you want me to start, baby? You wanna know what I like about you besides that sweet ass? And those legs in your little white shorts?”