Chapter Seven #2
He flagged down the bartender and ordered two. “Relax, honey. I’m not judging or trying to control you. Besides, I know you’ll be safe tonight because I’m with you.” When the drinks came, he handed me mine and tapped his glass to it. His arrogance knew no bounds, apparently.
We both drank. He’d gotten me a double shot of Crown so, though it was still bitter, the alcohol didn’t burn going down. My favorite.
“Miss me?” he asked, that smile a devastating weapon. With his beard, I wouldn’t have thought his smile would have as much impact as it did.
I snorted. “Don’t flatter yourself. I was bored.”
He cocked his head, pretending to consider. “Fair. You seem like the type to get bored easily.”
He wasn’t wrong. But I wasn’t about to give him the satisfaction. “What about you? You stalking my favorite bars now?”
He shrugged. “Maybe. I hoped I’d run into you. Or maybe I just like this place.” He glanced around at the sad streamers and the decaying flowers. “Has a certain... atmosphere.”
I drained half my glass. “Yeah, it’s real homey.” He smiled, genuine this time, and I felt a warmth bloom in my chest that had nothing to do with whiskey.
“Gotta admit,” Rocky said, “I thought you’d written me off. Wasn’t sure I’d hear from you again.”
I toyed with the rim of my glass, spinning it in slow circles. “You don’t seem the type to get your feelings hurt.”
“I don’t.” He leaned in, voice dropping low. “But I don’t like not knowing where I stand. I also don’t believe in letting something I want get away without a fight.”
My skin prickled. Every nerve ending in my body tuned itself to Rocky’s frequency. His words really shouldn’t make me hot, but I thought I might melt into a puddle of goo.
I tried to steer the conversation, to find an angle or a slip that would give away what he really wanted with me, but he gave nothing away.
We talked bikes, music, the time he rebuilt a classic Mustang out of parts he’d scavenged from a junkyard.
For every question I asked, he answered just enough to keep me interested but not enough to reveal anything real.
I respected the hustle. I also wanted to smack him for being so fucking good at it.
Even knowing he was expertly avoiding anything meaningful, I still found myself sucked into the tales he spun, simply happy to be having a light conversation with him.
By the end of the first round of shots, my guard was half down. By the end of the second, I’d stopped pretending I wasn’t staring at his mouth. Because, I wanted that mouth all over my body. All night long.
“So what is this, Rocky?” I asked. “What are we doing?”
He shrugged, a slow, lazy movement. “Just two people having a drink.” His eyes dropped to my lips, then flicked back to my face. “Unless you want to do something else.”
There it was again, that push-pull. I wanted to laugh it off, or maybe challenge him, but instead I heard myself say, “Depends on what you’re offering.”
He set his glass down with a deliberate clink. “You tell me.”
I reached for my drink, but he caught my wrist gently. His fingers were rough, warm, and callused from years working with his hands. And yeah, the double meaning wasn’t lost on me. I let him hold me there, my gaze not leaving his.
“Thought about you,” I said, surprised at my own honesty.
He smiled, not like before but slow and proud. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.” I wanted to look away, but didn’t. “I tried to talk myself out of answering you. Didn’t work.”
His hand slid up to the inside of my elbow, fingers resting just above the tattoo of an intricately created monarch butterfly with bright, multi-colored wings I’d gotten when I was seventeen, right after Ghost had taken me in.
To me, that tattoo represented my new beginning.
And I’d wanted it to be bright and colorful instead of drab and gray like my old life.
“Is that a problem?” he asked, voice barely above a whisper as he leaned in to me.
I grinned. “The problem is, you’re a question I can’t answer. I hate not being able to solve shit right in front of me.”
He leaned in, so close his breath ghosted against my cheek. “What if you didn’t have to solve me?”
I swallowed, my mouth suddenly dry. The urge to kiss him was almost painful. Instead, I let my hand drift up his chest, feeling the hard muscle beneath his T-shirt.
He covered my hand and squeezed gently, then stood, pulling me up with him. “Come on. Booth’s more private.”
He guided me to the corner booth, his hand never leaving my lower back. The touch was proprietary, but not demanding. I let him, more curious than annoyed. When we sat, he shifted so he could watch the room but also so he could watch me.
We didn’t bother with small talk this time. I leaned in, my voice dropping to a low register. “What are you really doing in here? In this city?”
He didn’t flinch. “I told you. Needed a fresh start.”
“Bullshit,” I said, but there was no heat behind it. “No one starts over in this town unless they’re hiding from something worse. And you don’t strike me as a Lone Wolf.”
He nodded, as if agreeing with me. “Maybe I just like the roads here. Always been a man who liked curves.” His grin held a wicked gleam I couldn’t combat. I doubt any woman across three townships could resist this man when he smiled.
I let the silence stretch between us, testing him. He didn’t fill it. After a few seconds, I said, “You ever think about leaving it all behind? The clubs, the bullshit, all of it?”
His expression softened for a second, so quick I almost missed it. “Every Goddamned day.”
It was the first completely honest thing he’d said since I met him. I tucked it away, turning it over in my mind. I didn’t delude myself into thinking I had this guy pegged. I knew he could absolutely manipulate me if he chose. But I knew in my heart, regarding this, he meant what he’d said.
He finished his drink in a single gulp, then set the glass down and met my eyes. “You want to get out of here?”
The question was simple, but loaded. I nodded. “You have no idea.”
We stood at the same time. He let me go first, then put his hand on my hip as we moved toward the door. Outside, the night was cool, the breeze chilling my skin slightly. I could smell the city, the gas and smoke and summer sweat.
We didn’t talk. He walked me to my bike, then stopped. “My place?” he asked, like he knew the answer.
I smiled, letting my hair fall over my eyes. “Thought you’d never ask.”
He leaned in and kissed me, hard and sure, his tongue thrusting between my lips to stake his claim. I could have saved him the trouble because I was pretty sure he’d made his claim loud and fucking clear that first night. When we broke apart, I could see the hunger in his eyes.
“Get on your fuckin’ bike, woman. Or I’m gonna fuck you right here.”
“If that’s supposed to be a threat you missed the mark completely.”
Rocky barked out a laugh. “You fucking fascinate me, Wren.” His eyes gleamed in the darkness as he grinned down at me. He leaned in until his lips brushed my ear. “Race you there?”
The challenge in his words sent a shiver down my spine. This was one challenge I absolutely could not pass up. “Hope you can keep up, old man.”
I swung my leg over my bike and started her up. The vibration between my thighs didn’t help my current situation. Heat pooled in my pussy, making my clit throb and ache. Well. That problem could be fixed easily enough.
I revved the engine once before peeling out of the parking lot, the wind whipping my hair as I accelerated. Rocky pulled up beside me. I couldn’t help my smile. Riding like this always made me feel free. More than anything else in life.
Except for when I’d lain naked, sated, and protected in Rocky’s arms.
We rode together through the empty streets, me leading, him close behind. I’d meant for this to be an interrogation, a test, but the second his lips touched mine, I stopped caring about the Copperheads or the club or anything else but the way he made me feel.
Maybe I was reckless. Maybe I was an idiot. Hell, I knew without a doubt I qualified for both those designations, but Rocky had a pull, drawing me to him like a magnet. But, hey. At least I was honest.
When we reached his building, we parked and hurried inside.
Rocky had my hand firmly in his grip as we took the stairs inside the foyer.
Once inside his apartment, he shut the door behind us, threw the deadbolt, and looked at me.
The heat in his gaze made my knees go weak, cliche as it sounds.
I knew I should play it cool, stretch this out until I got what I wanted, but the second he reached for me, my resolve crumpled like tissue paper.
Rocky found my mouth with his, his kiss hungry and demanding.
He pressed me against the door, one palm braced beside my head while his other hand curved around my waist, not restraining but holding me still while he kissed me.
I wrapped my arms around his neck, my fingers threading gently through his hair, drawing him closer.
“Missed this,” he murmured against my lips, his breath hot and hungry. “Never tasted anything sweeter.”
“Missed your kiss too,” I heard myself say, then bit his lip to cover it up.
He growled. A real, feral sound that sent a shock straight to my clit. He lifted me, spinning us until my ass landed on the narrow table next to the door. I spread my legs and he stepped between them before pulling me closer to the edge so I felt his cock pressed against me through our jeans.
Before I could lose myself, Rocky pressed his forehead to mine and held me. My breath came in ragged gasps, mirrored by his own deep respiration.