Eight
EIGHT
Hendrix walks his bike with us on top slowly to meet the others. I see Kinsley already suited up and on Malik’s bike, her visor up and a big smile on her face. My nerves begin to grow but not because I’m afraid of the machine I sit on. I’m nervous because of the man on the machine and how badly I want to strangle then kiss the living tar out of him.
My hands were shaking when I walked up to his front door. I’m sure I could’ve just walked down the long corridor that leads to the interior stairs, but I was too chicken shit to walk into a virtual strangers living room and ask for a cup of sugar. Well it wasn’t sugar, but wanting to know if he had some popcorn was basically the same thing.
When that door flew open and I saw his bright blue eyes blazing with anger, my ass crawled into my stomach trying to get away from him. He was definitely apologetic over mistaking me for what I assume are his friends, but it didn’t make me want to punch him in the face any less. And if anything, his apology followed by his hand touching my heated skin made me want to climb up his fit body and rub my scent all over him.
And now I sit gripping on to his waist and my legs practically wrapped around him. We pull up right next to Danté and Malik who, might I just say look delicious and terrifying in their own right. When Danté kissed my hand I felt my vagina swoon and faint. I can only imagine the things that man can do with that wicked tongue. Malik’s sweet demeanor relaxed me, but I have a feeling he is anything but sweet. To be honest, all three of them look dangerous and like the things that go bump in the night that your parents warn you about.
The engines of the three bikes scream when they start up and I jump, my fingers digging into the thick material of Hendrix’s jacket. I take two calming breaths and feel the hot air as it traps in my helmet. I look over at Kinsley and the smile she gives me says that I am in for quite a ride. She winks, gives me a thumbs up, then slams her visor down before gripping Malik’s shoulders. His bike jumps as he peels off with Danté close on his heels. My body tenses as I anticipate Hendrix to move next and he lives up to his promise to ride hard and fast.
I jerk back when he punches the gas and we fly down the driveway. I have to restrain myself from leaning in and wrapping my arms tight around his body. My teeth gnash together when he shifts and we leap forward, falling in behind Danté and Malik.
Even with the helmet, the wind whistles as we weave in and out of traffic. I’m not positive but I’m pretty sure lane splitting is illegal in most states. At least, in Texas it is.
The lights flash as we speed down the street and soon we’re entering the highway. Now the jitters set in as we go faster and faster and the night turns pitch black, only lit by the lights of the city.
“You doing okay?” a voice asks inside my helmet and I jolt in my seat.
“Um, Hendrix?” I’m so unsure of the voice filtering through and how it’s happening.
“Yeah. Bluetooth,” he explains.
“Oh. Yeah. I’m good.” I shout into my confined space.
“Then hold on tight,” is the warning he gives me before switching gears and rushing past the guys to lead the trio.
I let out a yelp and this time, I do lean forward and circle my arms around him, my hands splaying across his chest. My helmeted head rests on his back and I close my eyes, breathing deep. When I feel my heart settle back into my chest instead of my throat, I push back slightly, returning to where I was seated before and tighten my grip.
Hendrix’s gloved hands move and I can feel his leg tense as he switches gears. Everything from my eyelash to my toenail polish begins to quake, knowing that once he opens the throttle we’re going to fly at lightning speed. It only takes a quick moment when his hand grips the handles again and the scream that comes from my mouth is pulled out from my lungs.
I don’t even care anymore. I feel like I may fall off and the last thing I want is for my dad to yell at me as my body gets scraped off the pavement. Especially since I have first hand knowledge of what a motorcycle accident looks like. Clinging to Hendrix, I let my arms snake around his waist and slide closer. The cars come fewer between and I start to grow more comfortable with less vehicles around to slam into. The bike moves around a few, weaving left and right, and I let my body follow Hendrix’s lead. My chest to his back and my legs bracketing his, we look like one person zipping down the highway.
“Don’t let go. I’m going to do something and I need you to stay calm and keep your hold on me. Okay?” His amplified voice asks.
“Okay. Just be careful, please. I’d like to make it home in one piece.” His hand reaches back and pats my thigh, reassuring me he won’t let anything happen.
Hendrix squeezes the break, abruptly slowing us down, and I feel the back tire lift. We ride for just a short distance on the front wheel then we’re back on two. Just when I think the tricks are done with, he lets off the clutch and we rise up on the back tire.
“Oh my gah,” I yell, but it’s filled with excitement.
My heart races and my adrenaline pumps through my veins. A smile stays plastered to my face as we continue to ride through the night until we make it back to his house, luckily in one piece.
All three bikes slow as we crawl up Hendrix’s driveway and come to stop in front of his garage. My body is shaking from the thrill of the ride and it’s difficult for me to flip my leg over and climb off. Hendrix sees my struggle and grabs hold of me like I’m a two pound doll and lifts me off the bike and sets me down on solid ground.
He unbuckles my helmet and carefully pulls it off. My hair falls in a staticky mess and I just know my face is flushed red.
“That was fucking amazing,” I tell him, out of breath.
He gives me a crooked grin and the arch of one eyebrow and it’s the sexiest damn thing I’ve ever seen a man do. I let my eyes greedily take him in, cataloging every inch. Tattoos down his throat that disappear under his jacket and that I know stain his fingers that are covered by his gloves. His close cropped hair and the gleam in his blue eyes. Full pink lips that he likes to lick right before he speaks. And these are just things I’ve observed in the few hours since I met him.
“Wooowee! That was one helluva ride. Wouldn’t you say, Dagen?” Malik pushes back his short, ebony strands and wipes the sweat that beads at his forehead.
Danté swaggers towards us, peeling out of his gear like the devil coming to snatch my soul, a devilish gleam in his eyes. Most would assume this is a persona that he turns on for certain people, but I have a feeling this is just him. No act to put on.
“So. What’dya think? Have fun?” Kinsley bumps my hip with hers, her helmet still in place and just her face shows with squished cheeks and a wide smile.
“Um, amazing. I was a little scared at first when he was weaving in and out of traffic, but the tricks,” I shake my head with wide eyes and a flutter swirls in my belly. “I loved it. It was a definite adrenaline rush.”
Malik throws his arm over my shoulders and looks down at me. “I think we got ourselves a crotch convert.”
“What?” My head jerks back and my eyes scan the faces of everyone around us.
“Fuck, Mal. Don’t say that. It’s fucking creepy.” Hendrix walks over and takes it upon himself to start unzipping me from my jacket.
My eyes follow his fingers, trying to make out the tattoos that cover them, until he reaches the bottom.
“Crotch rocket,” Malik interrupts. “You know. It’s what people call our bikes.”
I chuckle and Hendrix continues to help me pull my arms free until he holds the black jacket in his hands. Our eyes lock and my chest feels tight, like one of those crotch rockets is parked on it and making it difficult to breathe.
A throat clears and I turn my head to see Malik, Kinsley and Danté watching us, each with a different look of curiosity on their faces. Kinsley looks like she’s admiring fireworks burst in the sky while Malik resembles someone holding in a juicy secret. The most threatening of them is Danté. A dark cloud swirls in his black eyes and I can’t tell if I should be afraid or turned on. My body seems to think it’s the latter.
I squeeze my thighs when images of these three men looming over me, ready to consume every last morsel of their captured prey, flash behind my eyes.
A stuttered breath fills my lungs and I curl my toes in my sneakers. “Thank you for the ride. I really enjoyed it,” I tell him and draw snickers from Malik.
Rolling my eyes, I smile and grab Kinsley’s hand now that she’s peeled herself from her gear. “Yeah. She really enjoyed herself, Henny. Now be a gracious host and grab us some snacks. We forgot to pick some up at the store and we’ve got a movie to watch.”
“Sweet. What’re we watching?” Malik bounces on his toes and rubs his hands together.
“ We ain’t watching nothing. Dagen and I are having a girls night. So be gone with you stinky boys. Y’all need a shower. C’mon cornbread sis. Time to gossip.” Kinsley drags me to her truck and retrieves her overnight bag.
We shuffle across the driveway and bound up the sleek metal stairs that lead to a balcony overlooking the luscious backyard, complete with swimming pool, and through the sliding doors.
She drops to her back with a thud, then turns to me and says, “I thought y’all were gonna start a forest fire with how hot you’re burning for each other.”
I knit my brows at her and shake my head. “You’re crazy. He’s an asshole. A very generous one, but an ass nonetheless.”
She purses her lips, holding back a smirk and says, “Hm. But you gotta admit. That boy, despite being a prickly thorn on your hiney, is delicious. And you, my new bestie, looked like you were ready to gobble him up with a side of barbeque sauce.”
I laugh awkwardly because I’d rather drink him down like ice cold water on a scorching day. He could definitely quench all my cravings.
A choking like snort pulls me from an uncomfortable sleep. Kinsley is passed out on her side of the bed, arms spread like a starfish and half hanging off the bed. The sound that pours out from that tiny mouth of hers is ungodly.
I climb out of bed and stretch my arms high above my head, working the kinks out of my spine and shoulders. Kinsley and I stayed up talking until our eyes slammed shut. She spilled more information about Hendrix, Malik and Danté than an overturned semi full of eggs. Apparently the three of them have quite the reputation amongst the women in Cattywump Bay, and likely beyond the borders. It was a reminder that I should stay far away from a man like Hendrix Dare.
But as exhausted as I was having an extremely eventful last three days, my mind was full of worry. Worry over my classes, my parents, feeling guilty for the trouble I’ve caused, and it kept me tossing and turning.
I tiptoe to the chair sitting in the corner of the room and grab the sweatshirt that I threw over it last night, and pull it over my cherry pajama set. Kinsley dons the matching ones because what else do new besties do but buy matching pj’s for a sleepover.
Quietly I walk out of the room and slide the back door open, stepping out onto the patio. The air is chilled and I pull the sweatshirt tighter around my body. I spot a beautiful deck with teak wood and black metal chairs sitting at the edge of the pool, and descend the stairs until the cool grass tickles between my toes.
It’s crisp with a cool breeze, but the sky is ablaze in orange as the sun rises, making it look like the clouds are on fire. I sit on the lounger and pull my legs up, cuddling into myself. Laying my head back, I close my eyes to soak in the warm rays. It’s peaceful and the soft sound of the water fountain’s trickling water has me dozing off within moments.
I jolt when I hear the shutting of a door and my eyes fly open, my heart in my throat. I stay silent waiting to see who or what will come into view. The padam padam of my heart beats loud in my ears and sweat beads on my hairline. I watch a shadow grow larger as it comes closer and I hold my breath.
Hendrix walks by, not seeing me sitting on the chair, and stands at the edge of the pool, a coffee cup in his hand. But the cup isn’t what has me picking my jaw off the chair. It’s the gorgeous, shirtless man, covered in ink. He wears only a pair of black shorts, exposing all the beautiful art and my eyes gobble up every inch. From his neck to his ankles, roses and snakes, skulls and knives twist and turn over his sculpted muscles.
His hand lifts slowly, bringing the coffee cup to his mouth, and sips. He swallows and exhales deeply and props a hand on his hip.
“Fuck. What am I doing?” I watch the way his Adam’s apple bobs when his head falls back.
I give him a quiet moment before interrupting his peace and putting a stop to eavesdropping on anything else he may say.
“Eh em.” I clear my throat and he startles. “Sorry. I, um, woke up early and needed some fresh air. I’ll leave you to your morning.”
I push up off the chair, placing my feet on the cool tile that surrounds the pool, and stand.
“No. You don’t have to do that. Sit,” he insists, stepping closer to me. “Would you like some coffee, or tea? I have both.”
His tone is less harsh than it was yesterday when we first met. It takes me by surprise and I watch cautiously for any sudden change, ready to defend myself. When he doesn’t throw out a criticizing follow up comment, I release the tension in my muscles.
“Uh, sure. Coffee would be great.” He gives me a short and quick nod then motions for me to follow him into the house.
I walk behind him and study the intricate details of his tattoos. There’s so much going on, it’s difficult for me to focus on one thing. So difficult that I run smack into his back when he stops to open the back door.
My cheek sticks to his warm skin and I reach my hands up to steady myself. They end up splayed over his trim waist and I feel the way his muscles flex when I do.
“Oomph.” The garbled sound slips from my mouth.
Hendrix hisses and I jump back, seeing that his coffee has spilled over his hand. He switches the mug into the other hand and shakes out the one with the hot coffee dripping off of it.
“Oh shit. I’m so sorry.” I rip off my sweatshirt and begin soaking up the coffee.
“It’s okay. Really. You don’t have to…” His words stop and he turns as stiff as a marble statue.
My hand slows having wiped it all clean, and I remove my sweatshirt then look to find him staring up at the morning sky.
“Your, uh, top has fallen,” he tells me, refusing to look at me.
My eyes immediately drop to my chest to see that in my haste to remove my sweatshirt and help Hendrix, I failed to notice that one of my boobs had fallen free from its cherry printed confines. My nipple is pebbled from the cool air as it sits exposed.
I yelp and tug my top up, shoving that bitch back under wraps where she should stay. I’m mortified and I can feel my face burn bright red.
“I am…so embarrassed. I think I will just go back to my room and stay there until you are finished with the car.”
I spin on my heels and try to sprint as far away as I can get –preferably to. the next state– but I’m stopped when a large hand grabs onto my arm.
“No. Don’t do that. Come inside and get your coffee. Besides, I barely saw anything.”
I look over my shoulder and see his face red and his lips rolled between his teeth as he works to stop the laugh that is wanting to explode.
My mouth presses into a flat line and I smack his bare and hard chest. “Hey,” he objects.
I would love to leave my hand right where it is, but I’m afraid that I’d end up on my knees, begging him to make me his concubine. And I can’t let that happen.
I pull my hand away like it’s been scorched by fire and stick it behind my back with the other. I stop myself from reaching out and rubbing my hand across the smooth plains of his body.
“You’re a horrible liar.” His face softens and he gives me a boyish grin and shrugs. “Now you owe me coffee and a muffin.”
“Settle for a kitchen sink cookie from Miss Shirley?” The door is pulled open and he steps aside to let me pass in front of him, probably to avoid me spilling anymore of his coffee on him.
“I’d trade my car for a dozen of those cookies.” My mouth waters just thinking about the way those sweet morsels melted on my tongue.
My bare feet pad across the wood-like tile and admire the beautiful living room, complete with a cozy reading chair and sophisticated artwork. Add in a gourmet kitchen and this is not the house that I imagined a guy like him living in.
“And you gave me shit for having money,” I grumble under my breath, not thinking he could hear me.
But of course, that’s not my luck. It seems like I don’t have any these days.
“The difference is I earned every penny I have. Mommy and Daddy didn’t hand it over on a silver spoon.” Spinning around, I watch him lean against the kitchen counter and cross his arms over his chest.
I pretend to look at a watch on my wrist and tell him, “Wow. Almost a full eight hours without an insult. Was that difficult for you?”
Hard lines and furrowed brows wipe away any existence of the softer Hendrix that showed himself just a few moments ago. His chest expands and contracts with deep breaths, and I watch the way his nostrils flare. I’m sure if I stood closer to him, I’d hear the clicking of his clenched jaw.
His pink tongue swipes across his bottom lip just before his teeth sink into it. His tight muscles relax when he drops his arms and his gravelly voice asks, “Do you want regular coffee or espresso?”
“Just…a coffee. Thanks.” This man is so aggravating and confusing.
He’s so hot and cold –but mostly cold– and I wonder if he’s like this with every stranger he meets or if it’s just me that gets to be the lucky recipient of his foul mood.
With his back to me, he grabs a white, nondescript mug from the open shelf and places it on the sleek gray countertops. He picks up a pot that I realize is actually a french press and pours it into the mug. He pushes the full mug towards me, along a jar with sugar cubes and a pair of small silver tongs.
“There’s creamer or half and half in the fridge. Help yourself.” He refills his mug, adding one cube of sugar, then walks into his living room where he sits on a modern brown leather chair and acts like I don’t even exist.
I add a cube of sugar to my coffee and find hazelnut creamer in his fridge. Once I’ve prepared my cup o’ joe, I stand in his kitchen not saying a word and just sipping my drink.
Hendrix sets his mug down on a side table then picks up his phone and begins scrolling. I didn’t have the foresight to bring mine so I end up just being awkward. My eyes continue to wander around his home, taking in all the details.
“Dagen,” my name is called, pulling my attention away from admiring the light fixtures hanging in the kitchen.
“Hm?”
“Come sit please. You’re making me anxious and I really don’t like feeling that this early in the morning.” His eyes are stormy blue and they stare right at me.
“Okay. Thank you.” I pick up my mug and carefully walk to his creamy colored couch and gingerly sit down.
The silence that existed while I stood in the kitchen resumes, and now we sit closer to one another, still silent and still awkward. Hendrix continues to scroll through his phone, and I continue to sneak peeks at him, admiring his tattoos and perhaps his face and the body beneath the ink. I decide to break this weird tension and clear my throat.
“Kinsley told me that you and your friends invented some safety gear. Is that what I was wearing last night?”
“Brothers,” he replies, his tone cold yet flat.
“Huh? I thought your company was called Dare.”
“You said Malik and Danté are my friends, but they’re my brothers.” He rests his phone on his lap and gives me his full attention. “And yes. The jacket and helmet you wore are Dare Inc. I wouldn’t have anyone on my bike wearing anything else.”
“Oh. Cool.” It’s a brilliant response, I know, but it’s the only one I got.
He picks up his phone again and I decide it’s time for me to go. A person can only handle being ignored for so long, and I’ve met my limit.
I drink down the rest of my coffee in three big gulps, and burn my damn throat in the process. I stand from his dreamy couch and return to the kitchen where I rinse out my mug and place it in the sink.
“Thank you for the coffee. In addition to all of the other things. I really appreciate it.” I pass him a small smile and make for the back door.
“Why don’t you and Kins come back down in about thirty minutes for breakfast. You should eat and I was just about to fix myself something before I leave for work.” My face must contort into something awful because he adds, “I know there isn’t anything, but candy and sodas up in the loft apartment. Just come eat.”
“Oh-kay. Thanks.” I run the time it will take to shower and brush my teeth and come back looking human.
My hand grabs the cool metal handle and just as I pull the door open, Hendrix calls out, “Oh and Dagen.” I look over my shoulder at him. “I lied. I saw everything.”
My heart drops to my stomach and the jerk has the nerve to just smile and wink. He licks his bottom lip and now I’m rushing to the shower to cool the heat building between my legs.
Damn that gorgeous jerk.