Chapter 15 #2
I can feel the moment her breathing changes, steadier and even, relaxed. I feel the panic ebb every foot we travel farther into the miles of solitude stretching in front of us. I fucking love being on my bike like this, and I love it even more with her on the back of it.
We’re in perfect sync as we lean into every tight bend, and on the first straightaway, I sense her movements before I feel them. My curious little pixie. Monroe’s grip loosens, her chest lifting away from my back, as she sits up a little straighter. Then, so fucking slowly, her arms slide off me.
I have a split second where every basic instinct I have roars forward, screaming at me to slow down, to reach back and pull her close again, but despite my body fighting me, I let her go.
I keep the throttle steady and focus on driving the bike I know like an extension of myself.
She’s trusting me to keep her safe to explore, to feel the world around her like this, and I’ll be damned if I let my newfound fear keep her from doing just that.
I internally laugh. Fear. I don’t feel fucking fear.
Not until Monroe.
My heart bottoms out as she stretches her arms out wide, reaching for the sky, the way it reaches for her every day. Her laugh travels on the wind, and it hits me square in the chest, a jolt right through my heart. She’s perfect. This is perfect. I never want it to end.
Monroe’s thighs tighten around me, grounding herself in her own way, trusting me. She’s trusting me. A monster. A demon. Just that knowledge alone, that of all the places she could be, of all the people she could be with, she’s choosing and trusting me, clinging to me.
I’ve carried a lot of things on this bike since Rolo brought me to Hell’s Heathens.
Rage.
Pain.
Death.
Grief.
Darkness.
Blood I couldn’t wash off my hands, no matter how hard I tried. But this? This is light. This is hope wrapped in leather and lace. I never want to give this feeling up.
The change happens quickly, and I almost panic, unsure what unseen danger I’ve missed while wrapped up in the moment.
Monroe’s arms bound around my waist, squeezing me hard repeatedly, her thighs clenching around me.
I’m not great at reading people, but I feel her panic.
I slow to a stop and pull over at a small lookout point, the gravel crunching under my tires.
I turn around slightly to check on her, only to find her eyes blown wide. I recognize this one. It’s fear. All of the feelings that filled me a moment ago shatter. Is she scared of me? My heart sinks.
“Are you okay?”
“No. Please don’t go up there. Please don’t take us to Lookout Lake.
” I look up the road at the windy incline.
Is she afraid of heights? I cut the engine, turning around just enough to grab her by the waist and spin her around so she’s sitting in front of me, her legs lying across mine, her ass in my lap.
Her dress has ridden up in the process, but I stay focused on her face, as much as I want a peek at her bare thighs.
“Okay, we’ll stay right here. I wanted to take you to see the sunset. Are you okay?”
Monroe visibly relaxes and nods. I reach out, brushing the backs of my fingers over her cheek before tucking a strand of windblown hair behind her ear. Electricity sparks at the contact, and based on the way her eyes seem to glow, I’m guessing she feels it, too.
Please feel it, too. I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing.
“Fuck, pixie, you’re so beautiful to look at.” Her face heats with crimson, making her freckles pop. The sun continues to descend, the rich reds and oranges spanning across the horizon. Its beauty has nothing on the woman in front of me.
“I don’t know about that.”
“It’s true. A monster like me shouldn’t get the privilege to even look at you.”
She reaches out and runs her fingers through my hair, my eyes involuntarily shuttering closed at the contact. It feels so good. It’s not sexual or arousing, it’s something I’m not used to. Tender and sweet.
“I don’t see a monster anywhere.” Hell, she’s perfect. How can this goddess look at me and think anything else? “Tell me about you, Crew. Where are you from? How’d you end up a Hell’s Heathen?”
Unease starts to settle into my bones. “Those are very sad stories.”
“Then we’ll start with the basics. Tell me your favorite color.” That, I can do.
“Black. What’s yours?”
“Pink.” I reach for her hair, studying the light pink shade between my two fingers, the chipped black nail polish that coats my nails such a stark contrast. Her fingers delicately swipe across the bare skin of my waist, like she doesn’t even realize she’s exploring me.
I feel every single point of contact down to a cellular level.
“Why don’t you ever wear a shirt?”
I laugh at this one. “I hate clothes. Too restrictive. I wouldn’t wear any if it were socially acceptable.
But my president said it’s a mandatory rule when out in the open unless you’re fucking.
” I realize I’ve said it a moment too late.
But I get the privilege of watching Monroe’s face heat slowly, a pretty pink blush that creeps across her cheeks.
“Fair enough. Is that . . . is that something that happens?” Oh, my curious little pixie. She’s full of surprises.
“Fucking out in the open?” I ask, my voice dropping slightly deeper as my chest rises and falls a little harder. Monroe bites her bottom lip again, and it’s so sexy.
“Sometimes. Some men like it, like our secretary, Wrath. He gets off knowing people are watching him and his partner.”
“Oh.”
“I like privacy for the stuff I’m into.” Her fingers twitch around me in response, her eyes downcast until she slowly looks up at me through her long, pretty eyelashes.
“And whh-what’s that?” My eyes flick to her lips—so soft, pink, and pouty. I can’t look away, my head dipping closer and closer to hers, until we’re sharing air. Our breaths mingle, our chests rising and falling harder now.
“You’d have to experience it to understand,” I whisper.
My hands slide into Monroe’s hair, angling her head from side to side as I run my nose up the length of hers and back down the other side.
Pretty blue eyes flutter closed as my lips brush hers, swiping back and forth several times, inhaling her rich scent. Then I’m kissing her.
This is what I’m good at. Touch. Physical connection.
Fuck words. Words are meaningless. Action is everything.
And right now, I want to kiss this woman until I erase every trace of everyone who came before me.
Until she lives and breathes me. Until there’s no question how I feel about her and where she stands.
My tongue swipes across her seam, demanding entrance.
She opens up willingly, meeting my tongue in the middle.
Sparks fly between us, an energy flowing at a cosmic level.
I’ve never experienced anything so intense.
But now I’m even more convinced. She was made for me, and Rolo put her right in front of me.
She may look delicate, but there’s nothing fragile about her.
She’s a queen. Even if she just rules over me.
Monroe quiets the dark desires, my thirst for blood and vengeance, and that alone isn’t an easy feat.
She’s light and goodness, and instead of trying to fix me, she’s embracing my darkness and sharing her light.
This woman makes me feel like there’s hope for me, a chance to be different and better. She deserves everything, and I’m determined to be the man who gives it all to her.
My hands grip her thighs, my fingers slipping under the thin fabric of her dress and slowly sliding upward. Her bare skin is so soft and smooth, and despite the chilly night air, she’s burning up.
Monroe moans into my mouth, and I greedily swallow it down.
I reach the outside of her thighs where her legs meet her hip and dip around, gripping the top of her ass and jerking her forward.
Her core meets the hard outline of my dick through my jeans, and she shudders in my arms, a gasp on her lips.
I rock her against me as her hands explore my chest, her fingers taking a moment to toy with the hoop pierced through my nipple.
Her touch ignites a wildfire within me. I’m burning up, my emotions firing on all cylinders. It’s all too much and not enough at the same time. It’s an awakening. Like a veil has been lifted, and I’m suddenly living for the first time.
Monroe tastes like sweetness, delicious and rare, and I can’t get enough. I suck her tongue into my mouth, wanting more of her, wanting all of it. Her fingers continue to sweep across my chest, a touch that’s somehow soft but also confident.
When we break apart, we do it slowly, my fingers gripping her hair one last time, my lips gently placing delicate kisses to each corner of her mouth before sitting back to look at her. I keep my hands on her, not wanting to sever the connection.
“I never do this,” she confesses, running two of her fingers over her puffy lips.
Her eyes are heavily lidded and hazy, and I so badly want to see what she looks like after I’ve made her come so many times she’s taken to the stars.
But I’m determined to take my time with her.
She deserves that. She’s nothing like the patch bunnies or playthings I’ve brought to my dungeon to fuck into oblivion, so I’m not going to treat her that way. I’ve got to make this different.
“Kiss?”
“Kiss near-strangers.”
“Do I feel like a stranger, Monroe?”
She looks up at me, meeting my eyes, the blue getting lost in the darkness of my own.
“No, no, you’ve never felt like a stranger.”
She doesn’t to me, either. We’re two halves of a whole and have finally found our missing piece.
“Let me take you home,” I tell her, even if it’s taking all my strength. I want to pluck her from her life and have her join me in mine, but I need it to be her choice. I’m smart enough to know that much.
The ride back into town goes by too quickly, as I drive to 7 Wildflower Lane. Monroe climbs off the back of my bike, taking all her light with her. She doesn’t seem to notice that I know where she lives, but I’m sure it’ll hit her later.
“Thank you, Crew. That was . . .” she starts, then trails off. I reach for her face, running the back of my knuckles across her cheeks.
“Yeah,” I say, because I know exactly what she means.
“I’ll see you soon?”
Sooner than you realize, pixie.