She gasped. That sound, it lit something in me I didn’t bother hidin’.
“You like that?” I growled, eyes locked on hers, dark and hungry. “Being held like this?”
She nodded, breath catching. “God—yes.”
I freed her with one hand while the other worked to open her shorts, draggin’ them down along with her underwear. I dropped to my knees, let my mouth replace my hands, tasting the heat of her while she clutched at the tree for balance, her legs trembling, curses spilling from her lips between moans.
When I rose again, she was pantin’, undone, but not enough. Never enough.
I lifted her effortlessly, her thighs wrapping around my waist like instinct. Pressed her back to the tree. The bark scraped her skin, but she didn’t care. Neither did I.
Her nails bit into my shoulders as I entered her—deep, slow, the sound she made like a sob and a cry tangled together.
The world narrowed to her. The way she clenched around me. The way her eyes fluttered shut, then flew open again as I drove into her harder, deeper, one hand braced behind her head to keep it from hittin’ the tree.
It wasn’t slow. It wasn’t sweet. It was rough, desperate, fever-hot.
Our bodies collidin’ in rhythm, her moans muffled against my throat, my name a broken thing on her lips.
“Say it again,” I demanded, breath ragged. “Say you hate how much you want me.”
Her mouth found my ear, her voice cracked and raw.
“I hate it,” she breathed. “I hate that I’d let you ruin me just to feel this again.”
I thrust harder at that, relentless, devourin’. “Then I’ll ruin you, darlin’. Right here.”
And I did.
She shattered around me, body convulsing, legs locked tight as she came with a cry that echoed through the trees. I followed seconds later, teeth clenched, buried deep, growlin’ her name like a curse or a prayer.
We clung to each other, breathless, shakin’—sweat cooling on skin marked by bark, dirt, teeth.
For a long time, neither of us spoke.
When I finally eased her down, she stayed against me, legs still unsteady, lips parted like she didn’t know whether to kiss me again or run.
My voice was rough when I finally broke the silence. “I warned you not to come out here alone.”
She looked up at me, dazed and wild-eyed, like she couldn’t tell if I’d just claimed her or consumed her whole.
Maybe I had.
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
I SHOULD HAVEtold him the truth the minute we got backto the clubhouse last night, but confusion has a way of making silence feel safer than honesty, at least for a little while. I climbed off the back of Chain’s bike in front of High Voltage, my legs steady even though my chest felt tight enough to ache.
“I’ll be back in a few hours,” Chain said, pulling me close, his hand warm and firm at my lower back. “Devil called a meeting. Gotta be there.”
“Okay,” I replied, leaning up to kiss him, breathing him in like I didn’t already feel something slipping out of reach.
I stood there and watched him ride away, the sound of the bike fading into the city until it became just another hum in the distance. I’d made the decision on the ride here, sitting behind him with my arms around his waist, knowing I couldn’t keep carrying this secret without it tearing me apart. I would go meet Zach while Chain was at his meeting, tell him I couldn’t lie anymore, tell him whatever this was couldn’t live in shadows.
Inside the bar, Ruby was getting ready for the evening rush, wiping down the counter and stacking glasses. I told her I had to take care of something and would be back before it got busy, and she gave me that look that said she knew there was more but respected my silence enough not to ask. I slipped back outside and started walking.
The Day’s Inn was only a block away, but every step felt heavier than the last. The sidewalks were cracked and uneven, the air thick with exhaust and heat, my thoughts looping through everything I meant to say and everything I was afraid to hear. I told myself this would be quick. Clean. Honest.
The motel crouched at the edge of the street like it had given up on being anything permanent a long time ago, its faded sign flickering weakly, curtains drawn tight across most of the windows. Room 214 sat at the top of the narrow staircase, and when I knocked, the door opened almost immediately, like he’d been standing there waiting.
