Harley Davidson Lawyer Ch. 02

I'm not sure why I lied. Maybe I liked playing the femme fatale? More likely, I was afraid the truth would spook the biker gang, who were probably into illegal activities.

Matt pocketed the card and took the driver's license from my hand.

I said, "If you subtract my birth date from today's date, you'll see I'm twenty-two."

Matt's face broke into a sexy grin. "Thanks for the guidance, but I can do the math. I'm the accountant for the Los Angeles Raptors Motorcycle Club."

I'm glad there weren't any flies around because my mouth fell open in surprise and stayed that way. I had no idea why a motorcycle gang would need an accountant. Fuck me. So much for my poker face. This beautiful man was smart and sexy. He proved I was right in my assessment by pressing his lips against my open mouth. I thought my heart would explode. I liked kissing Matt, the handsome biker, but I loved kissing an intelligent, gorgeous accountant even more.

I swung my legs around to straddle him and ground my crotch against his hips. I could feel his excitement grow in response to my first lap dance. I had learned how on YouTube. I was breathing hard when I came up for air.

I stared into his sparkling blue eyes and said, "I'm going up to my room. Why don't you give me fifteen minutes and follow me? Bring a six-pack. I'm in room 224. You're good at math. You should be able to remember 2 plus 2 equals 4."

I hopped off his lap and turned to go.

"Lyss, wait. You forgot your shot."

I turned around and quickly downed my third shot of tequila. I smiled and ran out the door to a chorus of catcalls from the Raptors. My head was spinning from the alcohol by the time I reached my room. I slammed the door shut and leaned against it.

What had I gotten myself into? I was inexperienced in male-female relationships. All I knew came from late-night movies and YouTube videos. In a few minutes, Matt was going to be knocking on my door. It was one thing to write 'Get a boyfriend' on my to-do list. It was a completely different thing to invite a big gorgeous biker to my motel room. I was sure that he was expecting more than a cuddle in exchange for a ride to Needles. My heart was pounding, and I felt a twinge in my lower abdomen.

Most of all, I was afraid he wouldn't show up alone. All I had to protect me against a gang of burly bikers was a lightweight door secured by a pathetic chain door guard. Even I could break it down with a quick kick.