Chapter 26
Indigo
The following night, I found myself feeling restless. Usually, I’d watch TV in the common room or root around the kitchen for a midnight snack, but nothing seemed to help me settle tonight. My skin felt pulled too tightly across my bones, like it had shrunk in the dryer. Pacing my room like a tiger, I tried my best to distract myself, but no matter what I tried, the buzzing beneath my skin remained, and sleep seemed like an impossibility. On a whim, I decided to sneak into the garage to pinch one of Tank’s Yoo-hoos. Since the night of his attempted assault on my hair, I’d taken to hiding my empty Yoo-hoo bottles in Pyro’s room when he was out. Eventually, Tank would receive an anonymous tip that Pyro was the Yoo-hoo thief, and I’d sit back and watch Tank pound him into the ground.
Visions of Pyro in a neck brace danced before my eyes as I snuck out of the quiet clubhouse. The guys were getting ready for the Alvarez job tomorrow, so the Crows had had a quiet evening and gone to sleep to be ready to ride in the morning. Halfway to the garage, I was startled when someone flicked on the interior lights. I jogged to the side of the building just in time to hide before one of the garage bay doors opened. Peeking around the corner, I saw who had interrupted my midnight Yoo-hoo larceny: Priest. Of course, Priest was putting a wrench in my plans ( garage pun intended ). I wasn’t surprised he was there. When he was feeling sad or nostalgic, he went to Ellis’s spot. When he was angry, he went to the gym with one of his brothers to spar or beat the shit out of the heavy bag. When he was feeling anything else, the garage was his haven.
Remaining hidden, I took the opportunity to watch Priest when he thought no one was looking. He stood on the opposite side of the bay door, seeming deep in thought as he took in the rain-soaked breeze. We had gotten a rare storm earlier that evening, and the breeze was cooler now that night had fallen. The sweet scent of creosote mixed with the earthy scent of rain on dry, parched land created a heady mix. I found myself greedily inhaling, knowing the scent would soon be gone. Priest turned his back on my position by the door and strode over to his bike, where I assumed he was making some last-minute tune-ups for his trip.
I inched my way through the shadows, watching Priest as he came and went between a tool bench and his bike. My back was pressed into the garage wall as I silently watched, though I hadn’t needed to be as concerned with making noise as I’d originally thought. Priest was muttering to himself and stomping around, so I doubted he’d hear me even if I had made a noise. I hated seeing him look so unsettled, but I wasn’t sure if an offer of comfort or a friendly ear to listen to his troubles would be appreciated from me. Even my most innocent acts could get on his nerves, so I was never sure where I stood with Priest. I mean, don’t get me wrong; I loved poking the bear for my own amusement, but nothing about Priest at this moment was amusing.
Lost in thought, I was startled when Priest suddenly whirled around and reached up to close the open garage bay door, baring a strip of his toned stomach as his shirt rode up. I eyed his forearms as he pulled the door closed, unable to look away. If we were in a cartoon right now, steam would be coming out of my ears. Seriously, I could probably wash laundry on those abs. Unaware that I was drooling over him like an absolute creeper, Priest continued to prowl restlessly in the garage. He reminded me of how I felt in my room just a few minutes earlier—unsettled, stirred up, brimming with energy, and edgy with it. I wondered what had gotten him feeling this way and why his energy called to mine, causing tension to settle low in my stomach.
Priest straddled his bike; balancing it with his thighs, boots planted firmly on the oil-stained garage floor. Slipping a cigarette from the pack in his back pocket, Priest lit it up and took a deep drag. He held the smoke in his lungs for several seconds before he leaned forward and exhaled as he rested his head on a pillow made of his crossed arms over the bike’s handlebars. I decided then and there that I’d make a truly horrible stalker. I’d been watching Priest for only a handful of stolen moments, but I knew I wouldn’t be able to stop myself from crossing the room and trying to comfort him. I hated seeing him so upset, even if a tiny part of me thought he deserved it sometimes. He could be a jerk, no doubt. Underneath all the anger and grief, though, Priest was a good-ish guy.
Maybe it was because I was raised in an environment completely lacking love, comfort, and belonging, but I couldn’t see someone struggling without trying to help them in some way. I might not be very good at it or have much to offer other than a shoulder to cry on and a willingness to commit felonies for the people I cared about, but it was more than anyone had offered me before I met the Crows. Priest could take it or leave it. Channeling my inner cat ninja, I glided across the garage floor in my bare feet, no doubt leaving desert rain-scented footprints in my wake. As I approached Priest, I snagged the cigarette dangling between his fingers and brought it to my lips. “What’s a guy like you doin’ in a place like this, sweetheart?” I asked in my best Transatlantic accent. Inhaling a lungful of smoke, I tried to imitate Kathrine Hepburn but messed it up when I started coughing. Loudly.
“Ugh, I know it looks sexy, but how do you do that?” I sputtered a little bit longer, handing what was left of the cigarette back to Priest, who pressed it between his lips for a final drag before he crushed it beneath his leather boot.
Shocking the absolute shit out of me, Priest replied, “Well see here, doll, smoking is a filthy habit. The trick is to never pick it up to begin with.” He sounded just like one of those guys from a 1950s musical on the TCM channel.A ghost of a smile flitted across Priest’s mouth, and a wide one stretched across my lips in response.
“Did we just share our first inside joke? We did! That’s our thing now. I hope you watched TCM as much as I did!”
The tiny smile playing on Priest’s lips died a swift death. “We don’t have a thing.”
I scoffed and rolled my eyes, slowly sauntering over to the tool bench and making a show of checking out the array of wrenches available. “Aw, come on, Growly Gus! Don’t do that. We’ve been doing so much better lately.” Choosing a combination wrench at random from the tools on the bench, I held the round end over my eye like it was a magnifying glass. “I can’t find a single reason we can’t be friends. Admit it, Growly.”
Priest snatched the wrench from my hand and tossed it back onto the tool bench, where it clattered against the other tools. “I don’t want to be your damn friend!” My eyes widened; I knew Priest was in his feelings when I crept into the garage, but I didn’t think he was angry with me. It wouldn’t be the first time I misread a situation or social cues though, so I took a step back. Priest’s hand shot out and grabbed my wrist. His touch was firm but not painful.
My eyes narrowed at our connection, and I opened my mouth to ask him what in Bob’s name he was doing when he gently tugged me into him. With him seated on his bike, we were almost the same height, so his bright blue eyes were level with mine. He still held my wrist in his grasp, so I placed my free hand on his chest to steady myself and prevent him from pulling me any closer. Priest’s eyes darted to my mouth and back up to my eyes. “I meant,” he gritted out, his voice raspier than it had been a moment ago, “I don’t only want to be your friend.”
I sucked in a startled gasp, unintentionally breathing in a lungful of Priest’s scent. Smoke, leather, and something musky swirled around my nose, mixing with the intoxicating smell of the rain, leaving me feeling slightly dizzy.
When I didn’t pull away from him, Priest continued. “Communication isn’t my strong suit.” He shrugged helplessly and continued, “I see you, day after day, prancing around the clubhouse in those tiny little shorts. You’re fuckin’ killin’ me here, angel.” His words rumbled out with a desperate kind of longing, sending shivers down my spine and goose bumps over my skin. I was simultaneously excited and a little frightened.
“I don’t prance,” I whispered, captivated by the way I didn’t hate his hands on me, or the way his words made me feel.
Priest leaned into me, his nose skimming the shell of my ear. His breath was hot on my neck as he spoke. “It’s all I can do to keep myself from bending you over my bike and finally finding out exactly what you taste like.” My eyes widened in shock as my chest started to heave with my shallow breaths. I may or may not have made an undignified “eep” sound as the image created by his wicked words flashed in my mind. I couldn’t remember ever feeling like this before; like I craved someone’s touch, desperate and needy and terrified of what would happen if I closed the distance between our bodies and pressed my lips to his.
My conversation with Cricket and Lennon from earlier flashed into my mind. I braced myself, ready for my ghosts and demons to emerge from the crawlspace they haunted in my mind and ruin whatever this moment with Priest could be. I tensed, bracing for impact…but it didn’t come. Priest, on the other hand, reacted to my flinch by dropping my wrist as if I’d scalded him.
“Indi, Jesus…I’m sorry, I’d never—”
“No!” I gasped, lunging forward and clutching at his hand. “It wasn’t that, it wasn’t you! I…” I clutched his hand in mine and tentatively raised my other hand to Priest’s stubbled jaw, my eyes on his, checking to ensure my touch was welcomed. The panic had faded from his eyes, but concern for my feelings was still etched upon his brow. The expression was unfathomably sweet for someone who’d never gotten such basic consideration from any other man.
“You know I’ve been hurt,” I stated in a gentle tone, rubbing the pads of my fingers over the rough stubble on Priest’s jaw. He clenched his teeth, causing a muscle in his jaw to tick, and gave me a single nod. Such a small gesture to acknowledge a lifetime of abuse, but something in its simplicity soothed me. “I don’t want to go into details, but I’ve been… hurt …by men, specifically.” I stared into the bright, arctic depths of Priest’s eyes, willing him to understand what I couldn’t talk about at the mo ment. The pain, the terror, the disgust, the absolute hopelessness that grew when you were violated on such a level that you didn’t feel like a human being anymore. Priest’s breathing matched mine now, and I could see the pulse pounding in his neck. I was sure he could feel the beating of my heart where I had his hand clutched to my chest like it was my last tether to the earth.
He saw it all. Every flash of emotion in my eyes, the way I desperately clung to the single point of human contact, anchoring me in a turbulent sea of feeling. The theft I struggled with. Uncle Roark and his men stole so much from me, more than I could possibly articulate, and I was simultaneously devastated and infuriated by my inability to right those wrongs. I could never go back and undo what they did. I could kill every person who hurt me, burn their houses to the ground and salt the earth, allowing their names and deeds to fade into nothingness…but it would never give me back the pieces of myself I’d lost learning to survive in this fucked-up world. It wouldn’t erase my scars. I couldn’t go back and return my stolen bits, but maybe, with enough time and trust, I could reclaim what was left of me and grow into who I could be. The potential of me.
“I don’t want to think of what came before every time a man touches me. I want to tell my demons to go fuck themselves so I can be free to enjoy sex like normal people do.” I fidgeted nervously, unsure how honest I wanted to be. I decided, fuck it, what was the worst thing that could happen? Priest went back to hating me? It would suck, but I’d lived through so much worse than hurt feelings before. Priest seemed to understand I was wrestling with myself, and he waited patiently for me to come out with it. “I… fuck , okay. I want you. In my head, at least. But…I don’t know how to want you…out loud.” I winced, knowing I probably made no sense. “If I tried, and I couldn’t…or you hated me because I’m damaged goods…I don’t know how to survive that. Stab me, beat me, make me wish I was dead…I’ve done that. Survived it. I’m familiar with that kind of pain. I don’t know how to survive this want .”
Priest’s eyes, hooded and dark with anger or desire, I couldn’t tell which, were staring directly into mine. Sometime during my awkward confession, he had drawn me closer to his side. My upper half was pressed into his, and our noses were inches apart. “You are far from broken, angel. And I don’t hate you. I don’t think I ever did. I wish I could. It would make my life easier if I did.” He chuckled darkly, and my feelings were almost hurt, but Priest continued before I could pull away. “Easier, yes. Nothing about you is easy. But my life would also be less colorful, less exciting, without you in it.”
Slowly, tentatively, my eyes locked onto his, and I slanted my lips over Priest’s. He let me control our first kiss, and that kernel of control allowed the feeling blooming at the center of me to grow into a riot of desire. He tasted like fire, and I decided then and there it was my new favorite flavor. I moaned into his mouth, and he swallowed the sound greedily. My lips parted, and Priest gently took control as his tongue slid over mine. Before this very moment, kisses were slobbery and unwanted things, nasty tasting and wholly repugnant. Now, I could spend every single moment of my life kissing this man and consider it a job well done. His tongue danced with mine, drawing a low moan from my throat. Warmth pulsed in my core, and I broke away from Priest for air with a gasp. “Holy shit.” Priest recaptured my lips and kissed me like he was going off to war and needed something to hold close and keep him warm in the trenches…or something like that. He kissed me like it was his damn job, and ohmyBOB was I here for it.
Minutes, days, years later—time meant nothing anymore—Priest pulled away from my lips with a snarl, breathing heavily. I watched as he wrestled himself for control, and it was incredibly sexy to know that he did that for my sake. It was easy to get a man whipped into a frenzy of desire ( I think ) but getting them to control themselves when they wanted an outlet for that desire…that seemed to be the tricky part. In my limited experience, that was. The fact that Priest controlled himself and didn’t push me for more than I was capable of giving right now was incredibly hot. I was busy marveling at the success of my very first voluntary kiss, but apparently, Priest was one step ahead of me. He swallowed audibly, and his voice rumbled out in a way that made me clench my thighs together instinctively.
“If it’s okay with you, I’d like to show you something.”
“It better not be your dick.” My deadpan response caught us both by surprise and cut some of the tension filling the garage.
Chuckling huskily to himself, Priest caressed my body with his eyes. “No, it’s not my dick. Not until you ask nicely, anyway.” He gave his head a little shake to clear his thoughts. “Cricket told Bones and me a bit about your conversation in the van and if it’s okay with you I’d like to… help you. I’ll keep my hands to myself, I promise.”
I felt warm all over, desperate for something I couldn’t name. “All our clothes will stay on for this ‘ help ,’ yeah?”
Priest nodded. “I’ll never push you for more than you want to give, Indi. Let me show you how good it can be, and when you’re ready for more, I’ll be waiting.”
“ When , huh? You’re mighty confident in your abilities, sir. Arrogance is unbecoming.”
Priest smirked, the poster child for smug male satisfaction as he balanced his bike between his jean-clad thighs. “It’s not arrogance if it’s true, angel.”
I couldn’t argue with him there.
Priest
Jesus fucking Christ. I’d spent all night between the thighs of random chicks and never felt an iota of the soul-searing lust I’d felt just kissing Indigo. She tasted like candy and sunshine, and I was fucking addicted after just one hit. My dick was rock fuckin’ solid in my jeans and begging for release, but I silently commanded him to stand down. This moment wasn’t for him, it was all for her. When Cricket told Bones and me that she didn’t even know women could orgasm, I almost died. It seemed like a sin that someone as unapologetically sexy as Indi had never achieved sexual pleasure. Cricket probably shouldn’t have shared that detail with us. From what Indi said, it was obviously a sensitive issue for her, and I could see why. I knew the moment I tasted her sweet lips that I had to be the first person to make her come. It was my goddamn destiny.
I slid back on my bike and gestured for Indi to get on in front of me. “Come on, angel. I won’t lay a finger on you, I promise. I just need you to throw your leg over and straddle my bike.” I’d never had a woman on the back of my bike before, let alone in front of me… never had someone who meant enough to me to allow them on my baby. This… this felt right, though.
“You want to go for a ride? Now?” Indi seemed skeptical, though she slowly obeyed my direction. I knew from my observations that Indi loved being praised, so I took a calculated risk. “Good girl,” I growled into her ear as she got settled on my bike. My risk was rewarded when she shivered and then melted into me, leaning back into the curve of my body. My hands flexed on the handlebars, muscles popping in my forearms and tension radiating through my whole body as I held myself back. Everything that happened between us needed to be on her timetable, and I was perfectly fine with that. I wasn’t generally known for being a patient man, but for her, I’d have the patience of a saint.
I started the motorcycle and revved the engine, not giving a shit how loud we were. Indigo gasped as the vibrations from the motor hit her core, exactly as I knew they would.
“The vibrations feel good, don’t they?” I leaned over her, my chest forcing her to bend forward at the waist. Revving the engine again, she moaned deeply and swiveled her hips over my seat. Indigo seemed to be completely lost to sensation, which was what I wanted. I wanted her out of her mind with lust so the fucking monsters from her past had absolutely no opportunity to creep in and ruin this for her. She deserved a moment of pleasure, and I was dead set on being the man to give it to her.
“You have no idea how fucking sexy you are.” I gently nibbled on her earlobe, causing Indi to erupt into shivers. “I’ve never been jealous of a bike before, but goddamn if I don’t wish I was the one you were riding right now.” Indi gasped and ground herself on my seat. “That’s right, Indi. You fucking deserve to feel good, angel.” I tilted my hips and leaned into Indi, putting more pressure on her pussy where it was pressed into my seat. Her hips rocked rhythmically, and frantic little pants let me knew that she was close. Revving the engine again I growled into her ear, “Now come for me.” Indigo threw her head back and moaned my name as her body seized in pleasure. Watching this girl fall apart was probably the most erotic thing I’d ever seen. Eyes closed, lips parted in ecstasy, and moaning my name… I’d never seen something so perfectly hot. “Good fucking girl.”
Indigo collapsed forward onto my bike, shuddering. I shut off the engine so the vibrations didn’t make her too sensitive and mentally promised my dick we’d get ours as soon as I could get into my shower.
“I get it now.” She panted. “I get what the fuss is about. That… you get to feel that every time?” She turned her big, luminescent green eyes to me, and they were filled with wonder.
“If you’re doing it right, yeah,” I replied, amused . “ At least once.”
Impossibly, her eyes got rounder. “That can happen more than once? ” Her voice was high and squeaky in awed surprise, making her even fucking cuter.
“Yeah, angel. You’ll see. Sex, when it’s enthusiastically consensual, can be mind-blowing.” I was only beginning to understand myself how explosively mind-blowing it could actually be. I’d never felt such satisfaction just from making someone else come and not reaching that peak myself. Making Indi explode with pleasure was so satisfying, I didn’t even mind that she hadn’t laid a finger on me.
I helped Indigo rise and noticed with satisfaction the wet spot left behind on my bike. I knew we’d be leaving in a few hours for the border and the Alvarez job, but I definitely wouldn’t be cleaning my seat. I wanted to ride off with the memory of Indi still present. It’d give me something to think about on the long ride ahead.
Indigo watched me close the garage up for the night, a shy expression on her face. I’d seen Indi angry, feisty, determined, amused, and now aroused, but I had yet to see her shy.
“Everything okay?” Suddenly, I was worried that I had overstepped and pushed her further than she was comfortable with. I’d never fucking forgive myself if I was just another name on the list of people who had taken from her. I wanted her to give herself to me, willingly .
“I’m… do I like…say thank you?” She turned red and looked at her bare feet. “I’m not sure what to do with my hands right now. What’s the societal norm post-orgasm?”
Relief flooded me as I realized she wasn’t regretting what happened between us. “You don’t have to thank me, though your appreciation will never be unwanted on my part, so feel free to sing my praises if you’d like. But it’s not required.” Indigo snorted a laugh. “As for your hands, you could do this.” I reached down and grabbed her hand, intertwining her fingers with mine. She stared at where our hands were joined, and I questioned again whether I’d overstepped. The smile that unfurled across her face reassured me, and I marveled at the fact that I was grinning like a boob and walking hand in hand with a crazy girl in the moonlight. Holding hands had never felt special before now, but damn if it didn’t seem like a victory for me. Indigo left me at her bedroom door with a bashful “good night,” and I walked to my own door with an unfamiliar sensation settling in my chest. I closed my door and leaned back against it, trying to understand the foreign emotion. I realized, after combing through my interaction with Indigo tonight in the shower and coming with knee-buckling ferocity, that the foreign feeling was happiness.