“I owe you for so much.” Grimacing at the reality, I close the distance until I’m standing in his space, the heat from his body radiating hot. “You’ve done so much for me, but you haven’t asked for a single thing in return. There has to be something you want.”
I can see it in the way he looks at me. A dark, smoldering weight that promises sin. He thinks he can hide it, but I felt it every time he looked at me today.
“I only want what you want.” His voice is a tight, deep rasp that vibrates straight through my core. A beautiful, frustrating lie.
“Tell me.” I press closer, my chest shy of brushing his. I watch his nostrils flare, his lungs swelling with his next inhale. “I won’t be upset.”
His gaze drops to my mouth, heavy and intent. He doesn’t speak, but he doesn’t have to. The message is clear. He wants to claim my mouth, to steal another first and make it his. He won’t say it, though, will he?
“I’ve never kissed someone before.” A hot flush spreads over my skin, a confession and an invitation as I’m the one who’s willing to push. “But I’ve always wanted to try.”
A choked sound rips from his throat, and a quick glance down confirms his body is reacting, hard and ready. I know he wants more than a kiss, but tonight, my strength is spent. The thought is filed away for the future, in case I want to give him every part of me.
Lifting my hands, I beckon him down. My palms cup the rough-hewn planes of his face, my thumb tracing the ridge of his scar. “You smell like beer.”
His mouth curves into a frown, hearing my displeasure. “I won’t ever drink another drop.”
A little extreme, but it’s the right answer. “So, does kissing interest you as much as sex does?” I murmur, my lips a breath from his. “I’d hate to bore you doing what I want.”
Hammer answers with an impatient, guttural growl that spears right through me, leaving my toes curling. Before I can tease him further, his hands are on my hips, lifting me. My feet leave the ground, and my legs lock around his waist on instinct. Finally, my mouth finds his.
His lips are firm, but the second they part, it’s an inferno. His tongue seeks entrance, not asking, but taking. And I let him.I melt into the demand, my theory of kissing obliterated by the blazing reality of him.
A low moan escapes me as my fingers tangle in his hair, fisting the strands to pull him closer, to deepen the kiss even further.
I lick into his mouth, a bold, claiming stroke of my own, tasting the faint, lingering bitterness of beer and the pure, potent flavor of him. I am burning up, dissolving against the solid wall of his body, every coherent thought incinerated by the heat.
When we finally break apart, we’re both gasping. His breath is hot on my swollen lips.
“If you want more of this,” he rasps, his voice stripped bare, “if you want to use me for this, I’ll allow it.” His eyes, dark and deadly serious, hold mine. “Only you. No one else.”
A blush heats my cheeks, and my heart is hammering against my ribs as I get lost in his gray eyes. “I just want a few more kisses.”
He remains silent, never arguing or asking for more. Instead, he responds with another intense kiss, deeper and more passionate than before, leaving me completely lost in it.
* * *
When I wake up, I’m happy to discover Hammer didn’t secretly handcuff me in my sleep. Instead, he let me get a full night’s worth of rest without touching me once. Opening my eyes, I discover the bed is empty. Reaching over, his side doesn’t hold even an ounce of heat.
Beneath the blankets, my body curls in what feels like disappointment. A tiny part of me hoped our kisses would turn into something else, but he kept his hands respectful outside of a few teasing strokes against my legs once we settled on the bed.
Moving to sit up, I expect to catch him watching me from the wall, but he’s not there, either. In this room, I’m completely alone.
He hasn’t let me be alone once since bringing me here. Not to say I’m growing used to his presence, but there’s a loneliness that’s there because of his absence.
Deciding I can’t wait around for him, I get dressed and look at my parents in passing. The ache is a little less than last night.
Making my way toward the bar area, I’m surprised by how many members are lingering. Most of them are missing the Steelwood patches. Hammer called them prospects. Their attention is on each other.
A woman sits with a guy at the bar, and I grimace at the look of his face. Bruised and beaten, he looks rough. But he’s got a hint of a smile on his lips as he speaks with her.
Trying to avoid people altogether, I drift toward Penelope. She’s distracted, her eyes lingering on the front entrance. She’s alone with her thoughts, which seems like the right place for me to be. At least here, my own loneliness has company without disruptions.
“Where is everyone?” I ask, the question leaving me in a rush. I’m relieved the room isn’t filled with leather-clad men, but my skin prickles with the absence of one in particular. The space where Hammer should be feels like a physical chill. Even Warden, his presence, is gone.
Penelope blinks, drawing back from her deep thoughts. A soft, automatic smile comes to her lips, and she’s already moving to grab me a glass of orange juice before I can ask. It’s a reflex, this tending. This serving.
She doesn’t answer my question, almost like she didn’t hear me. Then I notice the pinch of her smile and realize that shedidhear me, she’s just not giving the information.
