Chapter 15
RAZOR
This is awkward as fuck. I watch Sunday chatting with a few of the girls as they eat their food, her soft laughter drifting across the cafeteria, serenading my misery.
Why am I such an asshole?
What happened last night and then again this morning meant a lot. It was the biggest event of my life, and I’m struggling with that.
She left before the Reapers woke. The effects of a heavy night after a mission ensured they remained longer in bed.
She dressed, a soft smile on her face as her lips lingered on mine and whispered, “No regrets, soldier. Thank you for the best night of my life.”
Then she left, like a butterfly evading the hunter’s net. Her footsteps light, her natural scent lingering in the air, on the sheets, in my heart.
I showered and attempted to get my head in some kind of order. She wanted that. She wanted me, and for some reason, I wanted her more than I need air.
It was a night to remember for sure, and now she’s eating breakfast in the cafeteria with a group of women who must be swapping notes on what happened last night.
I’m guessing not one of them slept alone, and yet it was more than that, for me anyway.
I can’t stop staring; she is that gorgeous; her touch imprinted on my skin like a branding iron.
Blade sets his tray beside me, and I grunt, his low groan telling me he never got enough sleep last night.
“Man, I’m fucked.”
“I’m happy for you.”
I attempt to focus on him, instead of the woman who now controls my entire attention, and he blows out a breath.
“Carla’s a sweet girl, but man, I could use some sleep right now.”
Once again, my gaze falls on Sunday’s table, and I note Carla whispering behind her hand and the girls giggling. Sunday catches my eye and smiles sweetly. I turn away.
I’m not one for public displays of anything. My emotions are mine, and I’m a closed book.
Blade whistles. “Man, that new girl is something else. How long would be respectful to strike up a conversation?”
“Back off, brother.”
My low growl causes him to tense before chuckling softly. “I see.”
“You see shit.” I growl, spearing my fork into a sausage.
“What happened to you last night?”
He is curious; they always are, even my twin.
“I left early.”
“I mean, after you left.”
My brother isn’t stupid; he has a sixth sense where I’m concerned, and it’s the same for me.
“Nothing to tell.”
I push my empty plate away, resisting the urge to train my eyes on Sunday’s table because hell, I want her so much already. She’s an itch I can’t stop scratching, and despite fucking her twice, it’s still not enough.
“Fancy some training in the gym today?”
I usually train with Blade in the ring. We thump the life out of each other for fun, and it never gets old, but not today. For some reason, even training won’t satisfy my hunger.
The women leave, depositing their trays on the trolley, and my gaze lingers on Sunday as she heads out of the room, deep in conversation with Annabel, a sweet girl who is heading home next week.
My chest tightens as I face the possibility that will be Sunday one day. I already hate the idea of that, and yet it will happen. She can’t live here forever, and I am not the man for her. For anyone.
The reasons for being here are gone, so I scrape back my chair.
“I’m heading out.”
I don’t give any further clues as to where and Blade nods, his attention now firmly on his plate.
He is used to my surly ways; he’s just as bad but not as introverted. Sometimes, I wish I were more like him. Lighter, more approachable, but I’m not.
I put that down to our upbringing and the shit that almost destroyed me. But Blade was beside me through all of that and somehow managed to salvage his soul. I wasn’t so lucky.
I head out, palming the keys in my pocket, and as I reach the yard where close on fifty motor cycles wait, I notice Sunday staring around in confusion.
Her gaze zeros in on me as I approach, and the sweet blush to her cheeks and warm smile curls around my heart like a cozy blanket in a snowstorm.
“Hi, Razor.”
She shifts on the spot, a little nervous, and I question her with a small grin. “You lost, darlin’?”
“A little, if I’m honest.”
She sounds nervous. “I asked Annabel if there was a ride to town going, and she told me I’d find one out here.”
She glances around her. “Am I missing something?”
“She means that if you hang around long enough, one of the Reapers will offer you a ride.”
“Oh.”
“It turns out I am your ride, darlin’.”
I wink and she giggles, blushing furiously. “Yes, I suppose you are.”
I jerk my thumb toward my Harley.
“If you don’t mind the bike, hop on.”
“Okay.”
Once again, she tugs that lip through her teeth, and I swear I am hard already.
Tossing her a helmet, I wonder if this is such a good idea, and as she pulls it over her head, I notice her bare arms.
“Wait there.”
She nods, words not needed, and as I head inside, I lift one of the jackets from the peg that we use for our passengers and return, draping it over her shoulders, helping her fasten it securely.
Something shifts inside me when I see Sunday dressed in a Reaper jacket.
Her legs slender, the jeans she’s wearing hugging every tight curve.
She is waiting patiently for instructions, and I sit astride my bike before gripping her wrist, pulling her behind me, her arms instinctively settling around my waist.
Fuck. This is gonna be an uncomfortable ride for sure with the fucking rock between my legs already begging for release.
I start the engine, the gentle roar throbbing underneath me, and with a sigh, I ease the bike back and prepare for the most torturous ride of my life.