Chapter 7 Hammer
Hammer
I want to kiss her again. The thought is running on repeat in my head, pounding harder against my skull the longer I leave it unaddressed. I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve looked at her mouth, tracing the shape each time she speaks.
It’s a new kind of obsession, one that has nothing to do with a threat or a target and everything to do with enjoying her sweet flavor again. If her tongue tastes like candy, what does the rest of her taste like?
That first night, I’m a fool for not appreciating what I had. An utter fool.
“I’ve never ridden on a motorcycle before.” Destiny stares at my bike, her arms wrapped around herself in a defensive little hug. “And do I really have to wear this?”
She insults my cut like she hates it, but my eyes catch the truth—the way her fingers trace the worn leather, the way she hugs the garment tighter, as if pulling a piece of me closer. She’s a terrible liar. It’s her best quality.
“You’ll complain if you get cold, that’s why.” The lie falls easily, a convenient cover as I busy myself with unhooking my helmet, just to break my gaze from her. If I look too long, I forget to breathe. She frowns when I plop it on her head, and the expression is so her that it aches.
My knuckles brush against her hair as I fasten the clasp beneath her chin.
It’s thick, her curls growing wilder and fuzzier by the day, a rebellion against her attempts to tame them.
It feels like spun silk against my skin, and I’m lost. I let my fingers linger, stealing a touch, pretending it’s necessary. My throat feels tight.
“Just lean with me, and hold on. That’s all there is to it.” I keep my voice low, simple, sanding the edges off my usual gravel so I don’t scare her. The truth is, I think I’d wage a war just to see her smile.
I swing a leg over the bike first, the familiar creak of leather a comfort in the constant chaos she’s stirring in me.
I beckon her. Her first touch is tentative, just her hands clutching my bad shoulder, a grip that sends a twinge through the old injury.
Then she settles behind me, and her arms slide around my waist.
Fuck.
Heat sears through the layers of denim and leather, leaving my cock twitching in yearning. I swallow down what feels like the start of a groan, a sound that has no place here. She fits against my back as if she were designed for it.
“Where are we going?” She leans forward, her voice a whisper against the shell of my ear, her breath a warm ghost on my throat.
The effect is instantaneous. My cock swells, then hardens, a relentless and demanding ache. I have to shift on the seat, my jaw clenching.
“Town. Judge says we have to enjoy ourselves for the next few days before shit hits the fan. That’s what we’re doing.” Revving the engine, I give her a second’s warning before we’re off.
Her gasp is sharp in my ear, a mix of terror and thrill that plucks at something deep in me.
I push the bike faster. And then it comes—not a scream, but a laugh.
It starts as a nervous burst and transforms, weaving into the wind until it’s pure, unadulterated music. It’s the best sound I’ve ever heard.
Then it hits me, a truth so profound it nearly knocks the wind from me and makes me lose control of the handles.
Fuck, this is love, isn’t it?
The thought should terrify me. It doesn’t. It feels like coming home. When Diesel started bringing his girl around, I thought he’d lost his edge. Then Ghost went full stalker on his, and Ripper, of all people, softened.
I thought they were fools. Men like us, men who wear blood and ink like a second skin, who trade in violence and sleep with one eye open… we don’t get this. We don’t find the other half of our tainted souls.
But this… this can’t be explained any other way. This isn’t just want. It’s a fundamental rewriting of my entire being. These feelings are tearing me open and pulling out a man I don’t even recognize.
I take the long way to town, every detour and back road a stolen minute with her arms around me. I’d ride until the tank ran dry if I could, living forever in this suspended moment. But reality looms, and we eventually roll to a stop outside Bake Me Happy.
I dismount first, turning to watch her. Her legs tremble as she finds her footing, weak from the ride and the adrenaline.
But despite the unsteady limbs, she’s smiling.
A real, genuine smile that reaches her eyes.
When she looks at the pastel-colored building, her face softens into something more awe-struck.
Women love sweets, and I know the clubhouse, with its high demand for fried-foods, has nothing to offer her in this form.
“This is where you wanted to take me?” A soft snort leaves her as she pulls off the helmet, her hair a glorious, chaotic mess. “You don’t look like someone who is a fan of sugar.”
She hands me the helmet, her fingers brushing against mine. A simple touch that makes my heart beat twice as hard. Quicker than a man could with a weapon in his hand.
“I’ve had a craving for something sweet lately. That’s all.” Approaching the door, I open it for her. “Enjoy yourself.”
Hoping she won’t hold back, it’s almost laughable how seriously she takes my words. Once she gets an eyeful of the display, she doesn’t moan and groan about being unable to make up her mind. Instead, she orders more than she could ever eat.
Watching her ooh and ahh at the sweets when we take up a table, she moans when the sugar hits her tongue.
After a few bites, she pauses, catching herself enjoying this far too much. “Wait, this is a trap, isn’t it? What do you want?”
I’ve laughed more these last few days than I have my entire life, I swear. A chuckle rumbles through me as I beckon her to keep going. There’s no way I’ll be able to take them on the bike, not without resulting in sticky leather.
“Don’t want anything, really.” Leaning back, my heel bounces against the ground. “Just thought we could use some fresh air. Wanted to enjoy myself a little.”
“But you haven’t taken a single bite…” Her mouth pinches into a line, and a faint flush comes to her cheeks. “You always look angry, too. Are you really enjoying yourself?”
“Every minute.” As the truth rolls out of me, I let it keep going, unable to stop myself. “Being near you is all it takes. I don’t know what it is about you, I’m still figuring out the details about that, but this is enough.”
Her lips part, her skin growing pinker. “Just watching me? Come on, you have to give me a little more. We both know you want more.”
So, she can read me now, is that it? Does she have a clue what’s going on in my head?
I shrug a shoulder, and I feel her foot tap my boot. The tables are small enough that I could reach out and touch her beneath if she allowed it. “Touching would be nice.”
She sputters, coughing on cookie crumbs. “Hammer. We’re in public.”
“It’s the truth.” Reaching forward, I steal a small chunk to appease her worries. “I’m talking in general. You’re the one who is taking it that way.”
To think that only four days ago, she threatened to kill me and stabbed me with a disgusting nail. Now we’re going back and forth, our voices hushed like we’re in our own secret world.
“You think anyone is paying us any attention, anyway? They’re enjoying their sweets.” Scoffing, she’s making it sound like I’ve asked her to sit on my lap and let me shove my hand in her pants.
Expecting her to kick me, to continue her usual distaste for me, I pause when she purses her lips. She’s hesitating, digesting my words. Fuck, it’s making me get my hopes up.
“Keep it PG.” Muttering the words, she shifts until she’s plopping her foot into my lap. “You have five minutes, okay? Don’t make it weird.”
She’s going to let me touch her freely? Fuck the sweets, she can have all of them. This is all I need.
“Don’t stare at me.” Shoving another bite into her mouth, she averts her eyes, but the skin around her ankle prickles up when I push her jeans up. Slowly, and carefully, my fingers trace the shape of her calf.
I don’t listen. I look at her, watching the way her throat works as she swallows, the way her breath hitches when my thumb finds the delicate hollow behind her knee.
She stirs like I’m touching her intimately, a soft, restless shift of her hips.
All I’m doing is tracing one goosebump to another, but the air between us thickens.
“Tell me what you’re thinking.” The words come out tight, and I give her leg a demanding squeeze, my palm burning against her skin.
“No.” Denying me flat out, she doesn’t pull away. Her defiance is a fragile thing, a veil over the heat I can feel radiating from her.
“Do you like me touching you?” Figuring it can’t hurt to ask, I wait for another harsh denial. Instead, she chews and chews, her gaze locked on the far wall, a faint flush creeping up her neck. The silence stretches, taut and telling. “You do, don’t you?”
Fuck. I didn’t think she’d actually enjoy herself. This changes everything.
Slipping my hand deeper into the cuff of her jeans, my fingers stretching to reach the underside of her thigh, my cock swells as she bites her lip.
A quiet, choked sound escapes her, and it’s the most honest answer she’s given me.
Her body is speaking a language her mouth won’t, and I am memorizing every word.
PG. I scoff at the reminder.
Much to her displeasure, I drag my hand away before I get ahead of myself.
I planned on showing her around town, letting her see what Willowbrook Ridge has to offer. Instead, I think I’m going to have to take her to the final stop of this tour.
“Let’s finish this up so we can move on.” I clear my throat and shift, the persistent throb in my jeans a welcome torment.
Seemingly regretting how much she ordered, I already know we’re going to have to get a bag. Right now, I think a sticky saddlebag is worth the risk.