Chapter Five
The rumble of pipes rattles the diner windows, the vibration skittering through the glass just as a single headlight coasts into the lot.
My heartbeat staggers and crashes, wild and unsteady against my ribs.
I glance at the clock above the door, a sly smile tugging at my lips.
Right on time.
Since I started here, Tomcat refuses to let me leave alone after dark.
He hangs back as I close, circling like a watchful beast pretending he’s just there for company.
Then I climb onto his bike, molding myself to his solid frame, arms locked tight as he carries me home.
The ride is always over too soon. Just short enough to leave me aching, just long enough to spark a thousand shameless fantasies.
As far as I know, I’m the only woman who has ever ridden behind him. Maybe I should carve my name into the seat. You know. Just to be safe.
That wouldn’t be too much, would it?
Tomcat swings off his bike, his eyes finding mine through the hazy glow of the parking lot lights, stealing the breath from my lungs.
A white t-shirt strains obscenely across his chest, clinging to those thick arms with shameless intent.
His kutte drapes over his shoulders, blond hair tucked beneath a black cap.
My gaze devours him, slow and hungry, stopping where his jeans grip his thighs.
God. I’d give anything to feel those muscles flex bare under my palms.
Heat twists hot and thick in my belly. I bite down on my bottom lip, pulse roaring as my thoughts careen into the dirtiest territory I know.
When I finally drag my gaze up, his eyes collide with mine through the glass—starving, desperate, absolutely relentless.
My stomach somersaults as he reaches up, fingers curling around his hat, pulling it off with torturous slowness. My pulse roars as his fingers rake through his hair, then he spins the cap and settles it on his head.
Backwards.
“Γαμ? τον Θε? μου,” I breathe.
Fuck my God.
That move. That reckless, ruinous move. Tomcat only does that for me. His silent little signal that he’s thinking the same dirty thoughts currently rioting through my brain.
His eyes never stray from mine as he stalks through the door, every step deliberate, predatory, his gaze firing questions at me.
Where?
When?
How?
My body betrays me, need blazing so fiercely my brain scrambles to catch up with dignity.
Here. Now, please. On the counter. On the floor. In a booth. I’m not picky. Just give me a second to tear off my underwear and spread myself out like a proper offering.
Hard. So hard I forget how to walk, how to think, how to even breathe.
Anywhere. All day. Every day. Until my own damn name slips from my mind.
Oh, man. This is bad. Catastrophically, world-endingly bad.
Each step he takes toward me sends my heart rattling in my chest, a wild drumbeat that thrums in my ears.
My skin prickles with a static charge so deep I swear I might burn.
I retreat, caught in the electric pull, matching him step for step, until the countertop jolts my escape to a halt.
He cages me in with his hands gripping the counter, arms forming a barrier on either side, his gaze searing through me with molten heat.
“Those eyes are begging me to do bad things, Goldie,” he murmurs, his voice rough and gravelly.
A pulse of heat tenses my thighs, desire flickering through me before I can stop it.
His breath skims my cheek, lips and nose gliding torturously slow along my jaw until he buries his face in the hollow of my neck.
Then…
Oh.
Oh, my god.
He inhales deeply, a low, pleased growl vibrating against my skin.
Holy shit.
He just sniffed me.
Why does that turn me on so much?
“If I were to put my tongue on you,” he rumbles, “would you taste as good as you fucking smell?”
I think I whimper.
Maybe moan.
I definitely roll my hips like the shameless creature I am.
Bad girl.
“I bet you would,” he murmurs.
A shiver slices up my spine, unstoppable and fierce, setting every nerve on edge.
Then he does something he’s never done before.
His teeth graze my throat, a gentle bite that sends sparks through me.
My knees give out, my body dissolving into helplessness.
Tomcat catches me easily, wicked amusement lighting his face as a low, dark laugh vibrates from his chest.
Oh. Oh, man. This is so, so dangerously bad.
“How about you pour me a coffee and tell me about your day?” he says, stepping away.
My lungs finally remember how to work.
Barely.
But the look in his eyes?
Oh, this is absolutely not over. That heated, predatory gleam promises he’s going to push me again before he leaves, and my body reacts with a traitorous little pulse of anticipation.
I don’t know whether to be excited or shove him out the damn door before I do something catastrophically stupid.
Blowing out a shaky breath, I scoot around him, fingers immediately flying to my hair, smoothing, fixing, pretending I’m not two seconds from climbing this man like a tree. I clear the desire from my throat before plastering on a bright smile.
“Yes. Right. Coffee. That sounds good.”
His husky laugh vibrates through the air, and I can only sigh in surrender.
Goddess, he is unfairly gorgeous.
“Goldie. Coffee?” he prompts, amusement dripping from every syllable.
I shake my head, dragging my eyes away from him with visible effort, scowling as if that might protect me. “Stop that. Put your manly manliness away. Right now.”
“No. I don’t think I will. You look sexy as fuck, all flustered.”
My thighs clench.
Again.
Distance. I need distance. Immediately. Before I do something insane like rip my clothes off and beg him to fuck me over the counter like a feral heathen.
I snatch the coffee cup I crafted just for him from beneath the counter, my movements quick and bristling with purpose. I fill it, slide it his way, then seize my disinfectant spray and rag like they’re emotional support objects.
We slip into conversation as I scrub down counters, tables, and chairs, letting the steady rhythm of cleaning anchor me, just enough to keep my heart from racing out of control.
This is the hour I crave most. Just us. No distractions, no noise, no one watching.
In the hush of night, he unravels in ways the world never witnesses.
His shoulders relax, that razor-sharp alertness fading.
He becomes less Tomcat, all danger and distance, and more Axton, real and reachable.
Just…him.
And I swear, this is the version of him I love best, the one I’d do anything to keep. Sometimes, I almost believe I’m his safe place too, not just the other way around.
“I ran into one of your many bed partners today,” I tell him, tossing the rag into the dirty bin and leaning against the counter.
Casually. Completely relaxed.
“Yeah? Which one?”
“How am I supposed to know?” I shrug. “They all blend together at this point.”
Her words echo in my mind, smug and certain, dragging up a fresh ache as I’m reminded I might always be just a friend to him, no matter how many years pass.
“What’d she say to you?” he asks, his voice dropping, something darker threading through the question.
“Nothing.”
Lie.
His fingers pinch my chin before I can react, forcing my face upward. “Don’t fucking lie to me.”
Irritation, embarrassment, and something far more volatile flare in me. I jerk out of his grip with a scowl, the sting of his touch lingering. “Nothing that wasn’t the truth. Just that you’ve had sex with her. Nothing I didn’t already know because you sleep with everyone.”
The words leave a bitter tang on my tongue.
Tomcat leans back, utterly unbothered, folding those tattooed arms across his chest. “Not tied down to anyone, Goldie. I can fuck whoever I want.” His gaze locks onto mine, sharp, challenging. “You don’t like it, you know how to stop it.”
Something tightens, sharp and uneasy, in my chest. “Nobody has a claim on you?”
Shut up, Marigold.
Seriously. Shut up.
A spark lights in his eyes, dangerous and all too knowing, and my pulse trips over itself. His lips twitch as he holds my gaze, and I can’t help but wonder if he’s thinking about the shadow who trails after him.
“Is that what I said?”
My brows draw together.
He studies me, stripping away every layer, waiting for something I refuse to surrender.
I shake my head. “You make my head hurt,” I mutter, retreating before this conversation derails into something even more hazardous.
“Welcome to the club, Goldie. You fuck with my head constantly.”
My breath catches.
Unsure what to say, I keep my mouth shut and focus on my task.
The quiet that settles between us feels strange now—different from before. It’s never been uncomfortable, but this silence feels heavy, filled with everything we aren’t saying. Silence has always been ours. The place where we don’t have to pretend, don’t have to hide behind jokes or flirtation.
It’s the one place we can simply exist.
Together.
He waits at the door for me while I shut off the lights and lock up, his presence a heavy, magnetic force behind me. Outside, his hand settles at my back as he guides me toward his bike.
His touch radiates heat, claiming me in a way that leaves no room for doubt.
If he moved his hand just a little lower, he’d be gripping my ass.
Goddess, how I ache for his rough palm tight on my ass, claiming me as his.
Tomcat lifts the helmet he bought for me and settles it with careful hands. My pulse thrums as his fingertips trace slowly along my jaw, lingering with excruciating patience as he secures the strap. No words, no playful banter, just that searing, undivided attention that undoes me every time.
He swings onto the bike and extends a hand, steady and sure, to pull me up behind him. Only when my body molds to his back and my arms lock around his waist does he finally move.