Chapter 6 Lynx
LYNX
My entire body is wrapped around Reaper’s back as we zoom through town on a motorcycle. I wasn’t sure what to expect from my first ride, but I’m loving every moment. The wind, the speed, the feeling of Reaper’s corded muscles pressed against me… There are a lot of things to like.
It’s over all too soon, but I hope we have a reason to do it again in the future. There’s no way that’s my last time on a bike.
Reaper instructs me on how to dismount safely, and then he’s by my side, folding my hand in his. “You okay?” he asks, those blue eyes of his searching mine for the truth.
“That was amazing,” I blurt out.
“Yeah?” Reaper eyes me up and down, a slow grin spreading across his face. It’s ridiculous what that look does to me. The giant biker doesn’t laugh or smile often… or ever, really. At least not in the last week since we’ve met.
I nod enthusiastically, the too-big helmet bouncing up and down on my head. “When are we going again? Can it be a longer ride? How much does a motorcycle cost?” My questions tumble out, one after the other, in an excited rush to the surface.
“Whoa there, killer,” he replies, trying to hide his pleased smile. The man looks downright smug about me loving my first motorcycle ride. “One step at a time. For now, let’s get you inside where you can rest up a bit.”
“I’ve already rested a lot,” I protest weakly. “I feel like it’s all I’ve been doing since you found me yesterday morning.”
Reaper tugs me against his chest, his hands resting on my hips to anchor me in place. “You have a lot to recover from, dandelion. It took more than a day for the trauma to break you down, and it will take more than a day to heal.”
I nod, falling into his blue eyes. He called me “dandelion” earlier, but I wasn’t sure I heard him correctly. His endearment makes me blush, and I wonder if that’s really how he sees me: beautiful, strong, and adaptable.
Reaper leads me inside, where he has a massive log fireplace and a huge couch that can accommodate his frame. Just add a fuzzy blanket, and it’s basically a dream come true. And I haven’t even seen the rest of the house.
My eyes wander over the mantle, and then to the empty walls around Reaper’s home.
His space is clean and comfy, but a bit cold.
It’s definitely not a bachelor pad, but it speaks to a life of loneliness.
I’m sure Reaper would protest, and I don’t doubt that he has friends who are his family at his MC.
But he doesn’t have anyone important enough to hang a picture of.
“So, this is it. My, uh, my home.”
I realize I’ve just been standing in the doorway, staring at his living room and the open kitchen beyond. Looking over at Reaper now, I noticed he’s rubbing a hand on the back of his neck and peering around his home as if seeing it for the first time through someone else’s eyes.
“Thank you for your generosity,” I tell him, giving him a genuine smile. “If I lived here, curling up on the couch with a book, a cup of tea, and a roaring fire would be my favorite activity.”
Reaper’s eyes lock with mine, and I can tell my words meant a lot to him. I didn’t think someone like him could be self-conscious, and it’s surprising that my approval gave him the validation he needed.
He’s just being nice, I remind myself. He’s doing me a solid, just like he told me earlier. Nothing more.
“Come on inside, beautiful,” Reaper says, more warmth in his voice than I’ve ever heard.
That’s not the first time he’s called me beautiful, but I’m not sure what to make of it.
Surely, he would never look at me the same way that I look at him.
He could get any woman he wanted, and probably does.
That thought has bitterness and jealousy crawling up my spine, even though I have no right to feel either of those things.
“Your room is right down here, the second door on the right. The bathroom is just across the hall, and you’re welcome to take a shower while I make you some tea and find a suitable blanket. I’m not sure what qualifies as fuzzy.”
I can’t help the grin nearly splitting my face in two. He wants to find me a fuzzy blanket? Wait… “You have tea?!”
Reaper grins at me, and oh Lord, that’s not even fair. “Bikers like a warm drink to calm down in the evening sometimes.”
“I guess I just assumed that drink would include alcohol of some kind,” I tease.
“Both can be true,” Reaper replies with a playful wink. Good God, it’s seriously ridiculous that he can be this sexy without even trying. I get the sense he’s not the kind of person who winks, which makes me feel special that I could bring out that side of him.
“In that case, I’d very much appreciate some tea after my shower. Hold the alcohol, please. A lady never drinks before five p.m.”
Reaper chuckles and nods his head. “A virgin then?”
My eyes nearly fall out of my head at his question. “What? How did you know…?“ Then it hits me what he really meant. A virgin drink, as in, no alcohol. God, I’m such an idiot.
I glance up at Reaper, whose face has gone completely blank. Great. Now he thinks I’m a freak. He clears his throat and looks away from me, and I wish the ground would open up and swallow me whole.
A moment of silence stretches between us, and then Reaper snaps into action.
He leads me to the bathroom and shows me where the towels are, then leaves to grab me a pair of his sweatpants and a T-shirt.
We’ll have to stop by my apartment at the clubhouse to get the rest of my stuff, but that feels like a problem for later.
Even though I had a shower earlier this morning, the warm water hitting my skin is undeniably relaxing. I close my eyes and let the steam surround me, loosening the knots in my shoulders and back.
Fifteen minutes later, I’ve washed away the fear and panic from earlier, replacing it with the scent of Reaper’s bodywash. Taking a deep breath, I open the bathroom door and step out into the hallway.
Reaper is walking back and forth in front of the fireplace, seemingly deep in thought.
When I walk into the living room, he freezes, as if sensing my presence even though his back is facing me.
Blue eyes find mine, and he lets out a breath, almost as if he was holding it the entire time I was taking a shower.
“Sit,” Reaper commands, pointing at his couch, much like he did yesterday. “Please,” he adds. The word sounds unnatural, as if I’m the first person he said it to in decades.
As soon as I’m settled on the couch, Reaper hands me a steaming mug of tea. He hovers over me and glances between the mug and my eyes expectantly, waiting for me to take my first sip. It’s pretty damn adorable, and I can’t remember the last time anyone wanted to impress me.
I bring the mug to my face, first inhaling the rich scent of black tea. When I take my first sip, I taste cinnamon and cardamom, along with an array of other delicious spices.
“It’s chai tea,” Reaper informs me. “I usually have it with a shot of whiskey.”
I grin, and he returns it, before joining me on the couch. Just like that, the awkwardness of the whole virgin fiasco is gone. How does he manage to make me feel comfortable no matter the situation?
I take my time sipping my tea, knowing I owe Reaper some answers. I have a feeling we’ll be having a serious discussion soon, and I don’t know if I’m ready for it.
When I’ve stalled as long as I can, I set the empty mug on the coffee table and turn to face Reaper on the couch. I sweep my long black hair over one shoulder, twirling the strands in an anxious habit I’ve had since I was a kid.
I’m not sure how to start or what he wants to know, but before I get the chance to speak, Reaper furrows his brow as he stares at my right shoulder.
Shit. The T-shirt I'm wearing is too big, which is a rare and nice feeling as a plus-sized woman.
The neckline slipped off my shoulder, leaving my bare skin exposed.
He reaches out and runs the tips of his fingers over the visible part of the jagged scar stretching from just inside my right shoulder to below my right breast. I guess this is as good a place to start my story as any.
“I got it when I was eleven,” I tell him softly.
“It was my first lesson in not talking back to my father.” I roll my eyes and try a deflection tactic.
“As you’ve probably noticed, I’m a bit stubborn,” I joke.
“So it took a few more lessons to tame my wild tongue. Even then, dear old dad clearly couldn’t beat all the sass out of me.
” I laugh awkwardly, not sure how else to end my sentence.
Reaper doesn’t laugh. He doesn’t smile. He hardly even breathes as the intensity of his ice blue stare sinks into the very depths of me.
“I will never understand abusive parents,” he says, his voice so deep I hardly register it.
“You didn’t deserve to be treated that way, especially not from the person who was supposed to love you unconditionally. You know that, right?”
I blink a few times, clearing away the stupid tears gathering in my eyes.
“I’m beginning to understand it,” I tell him truthfully.
“It’s not that I think I’ve rightfully earned his wrath, it’s more…
” I pause, trying to find the right words.
“I couldn’t fathom a different life. I’ve never known anything else.
What would I do? How would I survive? I had a great education with private tutors, but my father never let me learn a skill or get a job. He wanted me to be helpless.”
“But you’re not, dandelion. You have more power than you realize. Your old man is terrified of you realizing your worth.”
We’re so close, I can feel Reaper’s breath tickling my skin with each word.
They mean more to me than he’ll ever know.
My lip quivers, and tears sting my eyes, but I don’t want to fall apart in front of him.
Reaper has already done so much for me, I can’t ask to cry on his shoulder every time a bad memory sneaks up on me.
Instead of giving in to my tears, I close the distance between us and press my mouth against his in my first kiss.
When he doesn’t respond right away, I consider leaping out of the nearest window and running until my legs give out.
But then Reaper cups the back of my neck and pulls me in for a heart-stopping kiss.
His lips meet mine once again, softly at first, and then with more urgency. Reaper licks the seam of my lips, the tickling sensation mirrored between my thighs. I gladly let him in, savoring every moment of his tongue stroking against mine.
The hand on the back of my head slides down my spine, resting on my lower back and pressing me further into his hard, chiseled body. My nipples scrape against the planes of his chest, causing me to moan. I ache for his touch everywhere, lust raging through me like an inferno.
I finally break the kiss, dizzy from the lack of oxygen.
Reaper grunts, then attaches his mouth to the side of my neck, nibbling and licking a path down to my shoulder.
He swirls his tongue over my bare skin, then licks a stripe up the center of my throat before diving in for more.
His insatiable appetite only fuels my hunger more.
My fingers curl into his shirt, pulling him down on top of me as I stretch out beneath him. Reaper’s blue eyes darken when he realizes our new position, a growl of approval bubbling up from deep in his chest.
Reaper presses me further into the couch with his massive, muscular body, and my legs part to accommodate him. He kisses me over and over while grinding against my soaking wet center, and I tighten my legs around his hips, meeting him thrust for thrust.
“Fuck,” he breathes out, panting into the side of my neck while I melt into a puddle beneath him.
“Y-yeah,” I agree, just as spent as he is. I can’t believe the passion behind his kiss, like he’s been holding back all this time, and I finally gave him permission to let go.
The mood shifts, though I’m not sure why. Reaper extracts himself from me, standing abruptly and wiping a hand down his face. I sit up, giving him a questioning look. “Did I do something wrong?” I ask, tucking my legs underneath me and wrapping my arms around my torso in a protective hold.
“No,” comes his grunted response. Reaper refuses to meet my gaze as he walks toward the front door and shoves his feet into his boots before grabbing a jacket. “I… I have club business to attend to. I might be gone until late tonight.”
“Oh,” I reply. I’m too shocked and confused to say anything else.
“It’s not… I’m… and you’re…” Reaper sighs and shakes his head, unable to get any more words out. He finally rests his eyes on mine, a look of longing and frustration staring back at me.
I open my mouth to say something, anything, but it’s too late. He slips out the front door, and moments later, I hear his bike roaring to life.
My head is scrambled after the day I had, let alone everything I’ve been through in the last week.
What the hell just happened? Was I so bad at kissing that he got secondhand embarrassment and had to leave?
Did he realize I’m a million leagues beneath him and run off to find someone else more experienced?
My eyelids grow heavier the more my thoughts swirl and tumble in my mind. I don’t want to fall asleep, but my body doesn’t give me a choice.