And it makes me want to hit something.
Before I can spiral, she peeks around me, arms still crossed, hair falling off her shoulders at the motion. “I can now officially guess we’re taking the bike somewhere?”
I smirk. “Got something in mind I think you might like. You ready?”
Those bright eyes rake over me before tipping her head once.
We head toward the bike, and I can’t help but feel that familiar sense of satisfaction looking at it. A Harley I built for my hands and no one else’s.Mine. Blacked-out, customized to hell, tuned to purr under me. The tank’s got a custom-painted angel, dark and detailed, wings stretching back toward the seat.
Sable steps closer, tilting her head. “That’s beautiful.” Her fingers hover above the design, as if she wants to touch but isn’t sure she’s allowed. She glances at me. “Reminds me of your tattoo.”
I nod. “It’s in memory of my mother. She passed just after I turned eighteen.”
Her face softens. Something deep flickers behind her eyes, but she doesn’t push. Just gives me a look like she’s trying to say, it’s okay to say however much I want.
I reach into the saddlebag and pull out a helmet, handing it to her. “Here.”
She takes it but doesn’t put it on. Instead, she watches as I throw my leg over the bike, settling in with the ease of something I’ve done a thousand times.
I glance up, and damn, she looks cute as hell standing there, holding the helmet, torn between courage and second thoughts.
Sable exhales. “It’s been a long time since I’ve been on a bike. My uncle… that had to have been the last time.”
“Good. You won’t have any bad habits to break.” I smirk, but I mean it. If she’s going to ride with me, I want her to be safe.
There’s the briefest pause when I face forward, barely noticeable, before there’s movement behind me. Boots crunch gravel, then one foot plants itself on the peg. She swings a leg over with confidence—unbothered, unaware of the slow burn that sparks under my skin as she settles in close behind me.
Fuck.
Her body presses against me, warm and fitting just right. My cock comes to attention. Her hands hover at my waist before resting there lightly. Then, with measured movements, she wraps herself in, carefully exploring the space between us.
The engine roars to life, and the second it does, she jumps, squeezing me tighter.
I grin.There it is.
I reach down, patting the long, toned leg pressed right up against my side.
Those fucking legs.
This does not feel like my uncle.
My hands rest comfortably around Hex’s hard abs, the leather of his jacket warm from mild spring sun shining down on us as we ride. It’s the same jacket he wore that night at the bar. Something about it—maybe the way it clings to his broad frame—feels just as dangerous now as it did then.
We’ve been riding for a bit, pulling into a town not too far from Stillwater Bend, but far enough that I have no clue where we are or what’s about to happen. Hex is impossible to predict. That’s part of the problem… and maybe part of the appeal. He’s in complete control of this situation.
We pull up to a nondescript building, the kind that could be anything: warehouse, mechanic shop, underground fight club. A few cars are parked out front, but nothing about this place gives me a hint as to what awaits us inside.
I climb off the bike, handing him the helmet while I fuss with my hair, trying to smooth out the smashed and windblown strands. Meanwhile, he grabs a backpack from the saddlebag,tossing it over his shoulder, as if we’re off to tackle something important.
I raise a brow. “Okay, if you’re about to lead me into some dark, dangerous place where I have to fight for my life, I’d like to state for the record that my upper body strength is on par with a T-Rex.”
Hex smirks, and my stomach tightens just a little. “Noted.”
He pulls open the door, and before I can step inside, the sound hits me. A sharppop-pop-pop, then another, louder this time.
I freeze.
Hex just chuckles and nudges me forward. I step in.
