Forever Zara: (novella 9.5) by V. Theia (ebook reader txt) 📕

old man loved to throw out his Greek wisdom, which made no fucking sense. Only this one might. He knew already how much he’d drained Rex’s funds. The aged goat was floundering.

Afterward, the men went inside, and Ajax morphed into pop-pop when Harper came barreling down the hallway. Blonde hair flying behind her, a smile a mile wide on her face as she went straight into his legs. “Hriso mou.” My golden. Ajax went down to his haunches, and Rider watched his daughter cup her grandfather’s face. Their relationship was extraordinary. It was like looking at a new man. A man Rider didn’t know. “We gonna have fun tonight?”

“Yesssss, so much.” Harper agreed with delight.

“Only until bedtime.” Rider input. He ruffled Harper’s hair and headed to the staircase.

Finding Zara sitting at her dressing table with the surrounding lights, he smiled from the doorway. He loved watching her getting ready. Loved watching her doing anything. She was so fucking beautiful. The sight of her still arrested his heart, making it sluggish with each pump.

Dressed in something red, he skimmed his eyes up to her bare legs and across her shoulders. She was fussing with her pale hair, the curls dancing around her neckline. Having gone with a new hairstyle recently, it was no longer draped down her back but perfect for fisting in his hands. Approaching, he found her in her own world when he dipped down to trail his lips on her neck, and she almost jumped a foot in the air. His hand stroked along her spine, and he felt the heavy thudding pulse through her skin.

“Just me,” he grinned at her through the mirror.

But that grin fell, browns drawing down when he saw she’d been genuinely scared.

* * *

“Hi, honey.” She greeted the love of her life while her heart returned to a steady thump.

So silly to get jumpy.

She was safe at home.

Swinging around on the stool, she watched Rider’s eyes skim over her dress and back to her eyes. He was still unsmiling, a face of seriousness with a shining emotion that could leave no doubt to his care when he said. “Something wrong?”

“Other than you needing a shower?” Her nose wrinkled. It usually made him grin. She upturned her face so he could drop a kiss on her lips. Instead of rising back to his height, he pinched her chin between finger and thumb. “Something wrong, Zara?”

“Honey, no. I was in a world of my own, excited for date night. You startled me, that’s all. Now go get ready, or we’ll be late.”

They were going to the local Tex-Mex bar for steaks and beer. Zara went forward and pressed their lips together.

“I love you more than anything, but hurry, I’m starving.”

“I know,” he said with a smirk dirtier than the mud out in the backyard, “I love you, too.”

She listened to him taking a shower while finishing her light make-up.

They shared everything from club business to family issues. But this was her stupid imagination, and she didn’t want to bother Rider with more of her neurosis. She’d save it for therapy next week.

Zara was waiting when Rider came out of the bathroom like a sexy, wet model. Hair brushing his shoulders. He’d clipped his beard; now it was framing his lips gorgeously.

“Keep looking at me like that, and I’ll send the babysitters home and take you to bed instead.”

“Such a horrible threat,” she chuckled, not hiding the fact she watched him while he pulled on a pair of worn jeans. Once he was in a long-sleeved Henley top and a button-down shirt, half-tucked in the front, he pulled on socks and shoved his feet into a pair of good boots.

How sexy he was slipping on a belt.

“Something you need from me, Icy?” A voice like burnt wood coasted over her skin. For a second, she considered delaying their date so she could rip his clothes off. He made her pulse dance under her skin.

He came over slowly, cradled her face in one freshly clean hand, and leaned down to kiss her. A soft brush of lips and beard, so lovely, her belly turned over with love.

“Yes,” she breathed. “Take me out for our date. And then…”

“I know what’s and then. Don’t make me harder than I already am by describing it.”

She dropped a hand and let it graze over his crotch. Oh, yes. He was hard.

It took no time at all to hustle her out to his truck and then to find a quiet booth in the bar-restaurant not long after that. It was busy for a Saturday night, but the only person Zara was interested in had his thigh pressed up to hers and a hand on her leg under the table. “I want a loaded baked potato as big as your head.” She exclaimed. “Extra sour cream.”

“Only my head?” Thick as smoke, his voice went through her like a bolt from God.

Dirty biker-man.

She reached up and threaded fingers through his hair, tightened them, and urged him to kiss her deeply. He made a sound against her mouth, from a bite of pain from her nibbling teeth; she thought at first. But then his tongue flicked between her lips and turned her to jello, urging them open, plunging deep. Zeal, as always, burned through them.

His hand closed on the back of her neck, firm but careful, and he kissed her a second time like he was starving.

God. God. God.

Time was irrelevant when it concerned Rider because his kisses always felt like that first one. Zara was a different person that night to the woman she was today. But what hadn’t changed was the way she was drawn to her biker-man obsessively.

A throat clearing caused them to part reluctantly. Rider held his hand around her nape and looked beyond her