“Yes.” Her response is immediate, which makes me want to pound my fist against my chest in victory. I didn’t know her trust meant that much to me, but now that I have it, I vow to cherish it forever.
I stand and offer her my hand. Lynx takes it, letting me pull her to her feet. I brush the last of her tears away, her smooth skin in such contrast to my scarred and calloused hands. “Thank you, beautiful.” My lips press against her forehead, and I breathe in her addictive scent. She smells like sugar and some exotic flower.
Without another word, I lead Lynx through a back door to the parking lot. We walked here today, but I don’t want to spend that much time out in the open. If Lynx is scared, I’m sure she doesn’t want to be exposed, either.
When we get outside, I send a quick text to one of my mechanics, letting him know a situation came up and I’m taking one of the spare bikes. Turning back to my beautiful girl, I grab the helmet hanging from the handlebars and place it on her head. The damn thing is far too loose, but I do my best to strap her in securely. She’s fuckin’ adorable, but it’s not nearly as safe as it should be. I make a note to get Lynx her own riding gear.
“Have you ever been on a motorcycle?”
6
LYNX
My entire body is wrapped around Reaper’s back as we zoom through town on a motorcycle. I wasn’t sure what to expect from my first ride, but I’m loving every moment. The wind, the speed, the feeling of Reaper’s corded muscles pressed against me… There are a lot of things to like.
It’s over all too soon, but I hope we have a reason to do it again in the future. There’s no way that’s my last time on a bike.
Reaper instructs me on how to dismount safely, and then he’s by my side, folding my hand in his. “You okay?” he asks, those blue eyes of his searching mine for the truth.
“That was amazing,” I blurt out.
“Yeah?” Reaper eyes me up and down, a slow grin spreading across his face. It’s ridiculous what that look does to me. The giant biker doesn’t laugh or smile often… or ever, really. At least not in the last week since we’ve met.
I nod enthusiastically, the too-big helmet bouncing up and down on my head. “When are we going again? Can it be a longer ride? How much does a motorcycle cost?” My questions tumble out, one after the other, in an excited rush to the surface.
“Whoa there, killer,” he replies, trying to hide his pleased smile. The man looks downright smug about my loving my first motorcycle ride. “One step at a time. For now, let’s get you inside where you can rest up a bit.”
“I’ve already rested a lot,” I protest weakly. “I feel like it’s all I’ve been doing since you found me yesterday morning.”
Reaper tugs me against his chest, his hands resting on my hips to anchor me in place. “You have a lot to recover from, dandelion. It took more than a day for the trauma to break you down, and it will take a while to heal.”
I nod, falling into his blue eyes. He called me “dandelion” earlier, but I wasn’t sure I heard him correctly. His endearment makes me blush, and I wonder if that’s really how he sees me: beautiful, strong, and adaptable.
Reaper leads me inside, where he has a massive log fireplace and a huge couch that can accommodate his frame. Just add a fuzzy blanket, and it’s basically a dream come true. And I haven’t even seen the rest of the house.
My eyes wander over the mantle, and then to the empty walls around Reaper’s home. His space is clean and comfy, but a bit cold. It’s definitely not a bachelor pad, but it speaks to a life of loneliness. I’m sure Reaper would protest, and I don’t doubt that he has friends who are his family at his MC. But he doesn’t have anyone important enough to hang a picture of.
“So, this is it. My, uh, my home.”
I realize I’ve just been standing in the doorway, staring at his living room and the open kitchen beyond. Looking over at Reaper now, I noticed he’s rubbing a hand on the back of his neck and peering around his home as if seeing it for the first time through someone else’s eyes.
“Thank you for your generosity,” I tell him, giving him a genuine smile. “If I lived here, curling up on the couch witha book, a cup of tea, and a roaring fire would be my favorite activity.”
Reaper’s eyes lock with mine, and I can tell my words meant a lot to him. I didn’t think someone like him could be self-conscious, and it’s surprising that my approval gave him the validation he needed.
He’s just being nice, I remind myself. He’s doing me a solid, just like he told me earlier. Nothing more.
“Come on inside, beautiful,” Reaper says, more warmth in his voice than I’ve ever heard.
That’s not the first time he’s called me beautiful, but I’m not sure what to make of it. Surely, he would never look at me the same way that I look at him. He could get any woman he wanted, and probably does. That thought has bitterness and jealousy crawling up my spine, even though I have no right to feel either of those things.
“Your room is right down here, the second door on the right. The bathroom is just across the hall, and you’re welcome to take a shower while I make you some tea and find a suitable blanket. I’m not sure what qualifies as fuzzy.”
I can’t help the grin nearly splitting my face in two. He wants to find me a fuzzy blanket? Wait… “You have tea?!”
Reaper grins at me, and oh Lord, that’s not even fair. “Bikers like a warm drink to calm down in the evening sometimes.”
“I guess I just assumed that drink would include alcohol of some kind,” I tease.
