Chapter Twenty-Seven
Tempi
I dimmed the lights in the Badger’s Den until the overheads glowed like candlelight.
The chairs were flipped onto tables, floor swept, and the register locked. It was well past closing, but I wasn’t in any rush to leave. Method had done his walk-around and radioed that everything was quiet outside. He was sitting on his bike out front, stationed nearby in case anything went awry. But inside?
It was just me and Twister.
And right now, that felt like the safest place in the world.
The jukebox in the corner lit up. I walked toward it in my socks because I was just over wearing shoes for the night. My toes curled against the worn wood planks as I flipped through the songs. My fingers hovered when I landed on one of my Halestorm playlists. I tapped “The Silence”
without hesitation.
The first haunting chords drifted through the air, slow, raw, almost too honest.
I turned around.
He was watching me from the middle of the bar, one hip leaning against a table with his arms crossed over his chest. His cut was off, tossed over a chair, and his black T-shirt stretched across his chest like it was part of him. His hair was damp from a shower, and curled slightly at the edges. And the way his eyes tracked me?
Like I was the only goddamn thing he wanted in this world.
“Dance with me?”
I asked, my voice quiet but certain.
He pushed off the table and walked toward me with unhurried steps. Each one heavy, deliberate. Like he wanted me to feel him coming before he even touched me.
I did.
Twister reached me just as Lzzy’s voice settled into the chorus. He didn’t speak. He just slid one arm around my waist and tugged me against him.
We swayed together, my hands curling into the front of his shirt. My cheek pressed to his chest. His scent was clean, warm, and uniquely his: leather, cedar, and soap. I could feel the beat of his heart against my cheek. Steady. Solid. Mine.
“You okay?”
he murmured against the top of my head.
“Better than okay,”
I whispered. “You?”
“Getting there.”
He pulled back just enough to look me in the eyes.
“You know what this is, right?”
“What?”
“This.”
His hand brushed down my spine, resting low.
“You and me. It’s not casual, Tempi.”
“I know,”
I breathed.
“You’ve mentioned it,”
I laughed.
“I was just reminding you,”
he said and pressed his lips to my forehead.
“’Cause I’m not planning on letting you go.”
The words sank into my bones, curling around every anxious edge in my chest. He wasn’t just saying it. He meant it.
I kissed him.
Slow. Sweet.
But it didn’t stay that way.
His hands slid down to my hips, fingers gripping tight as he walked me backward toward the bar. I followed willingly, and heat licked down my spine. When my back hit the wood, he leaned in, one arm braced by my side.
“You feel safe with me?”
he asked low.
“Yes.”
“You trust me?”
I nodded, my breath hitching. “Yeah.”
His lips crashed into mine before I could say another word.
It wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t messy.
It was consuming.
Like we’d both been holding back and finally decided to let it all go.
My hands slipped under his shirt. He groaned against my mouth, and I smiled, loving that I could pull that sound from him with just a touch.
Twister broke the kiss only long enough to tug his shirt over his head and toss it onto the barstool behind him. I ran my palms over his chest and traced his muscles and ink like I was memorizing a map. He didn’t stop me. Just stood there with half-lidded eyes, like he was doing the same to me.
His hands slipped under the hem of my tank top and began lifting it. I raised my arms, heart pounding, and let him peel it off me. The second it hit the floor, his gaze dragged over me.
“You’re beautiful,”
he murmured and brushed his lips across my collarbone.
“Every part of you.”
My bra joined the tank top, and then his hands were on my face, tender and slow, like I was something rare he didn’t want to break.
“I want to take my time tonight,”
he said, his voice low and rough with meaning.
“You good with that, doll?”
My breath caught.
“Yeah. I want that too.”
He kissed me again, softer this time, deep and unhurried, and my whole body melted into him.
Then, without a word, he reached down, laced his fingers through mine, and guided me toward the stairs. The lights from the bar faded behind us, replaced by the creak of old wood and the thud of my heart. Each step felt like we were crossing a line I wasn’t going to come back from. And I didn’t want to.
When we reached the landing, I pushed open the door to my apartment and backed into the room to pull him with me. Twister shut the door behind us.
We finished undressing each other slowly while our hands roamed. We moved toward the bed like gravity was guiding us there. There was no rush. No frenzy. Just him and me, steady and deliberate.
He lay me back on the bed and crawled over me. One arm braced beside my head, and the other traced a slow path down my thigh. My breath hitched as I wrapped my legs around his waist and welcomed the weight of him.
When he entered me, it was slow and intense. My hands fisted in the sheets, then slid up into his hair as I tried to anchor myself to him as he moved.
“Tempi,”
he whispered, like a prayer.
I answered with his name, and my voice broke around it.
Twister.
The world outside that room could burn, and I wouldn’t have noticed. The only rhythm I cared about was the one we made together.
He kissed me as he moved, his mouth finding mine again and again like he couldn’t bear the distance between us, not even for a second.
And when we shattered together, it wasn’t loud or messy; it was quiet, raw, and real.
Like coming home.
Afterward, he didn’t move far. Just slid to the side and pulled me with him, my back to his chest, and his arms wrapped around me like he didn’t plan to let go. Ever.
“Still feel safe?”
he asked. His voice was a warm breath against the back of my neck.
I closed my eyes.
“More than ever.”
He kissed my shoulder and I smiled as I tucked myself tighter against him.
We didn’t talk for a long time. We didn’t need to. We just laid there in the hush of the room. Skin to skin, and wrapped in something that felt like more than lust. It felt like trust. Like something we weren’t going to lose the second morning came.
But I still whispered it.
“I don’t know what happens next.”
Twister’s hand traced a line down my spine, then curled around my waist like he was sealing the words in place.
“Whatever it is, we handle it together.”
I nodded, and my eyes stung with something I didn’t want to fight.
Yeah.
We were solid.
And I wasn’t going anywhere.