Dante turns on his motorcycle, the engine roaring to life. My hands grip his sides as he lifts the kickstand. He slowly backs out of the parking space, being careful during the takeoff. Dante takes a right at the stoplight on the corner of E Beverly, his hand sliding back, holding on to my knee.
The act is innocent enough, but he leaves his hand there and begins to caress my leg. I must be touch-starved because the way he’s touching me feels far better than it should have. His fingers glide up and down my calf, and I’m so lost in his touch that I don’t catch myself before I let out a soft moan. Dante stills his hand but doesn’t remove it. “You alright, Luna?” hisvoice is low, and the question genuine.
I can’t tell him that the way he’s touching me makes me want to guide that curious hand of his somewhere else, so I opt for a lie. “Just a little nervous on the motorcycle. It’s been a long time since I’ve been on one.”
“I’ve got you, Luna. I won’t let anything happen to you.”
Fuck. Stop it, heart. Don’t beat like that.
I’m thankful for the full-face helmet, so Dante can’t see how I bit my lip to avoid embarrassing myself further.
The motorcycle slows, and we pull into a gravel parking lot. The glaring neon purple sign above us reads:Charm.
Dante pulls up next to several other bikes parked right out front. “Go ahead and get off first. I’ll hold the bike steady.” I do as he says and dismount. I unfasten the chin strap on my helmet and remove it. I watch as Dante dismounts, admiring the view as his shirt lifts, exposing the abdominal V-lines I was sure he had. My eyebrows shoot up to my hairline as I see the tattoo he has, angel wings on opposing sides of the V-lines. I averted my eyes as if I were a Victorian man seeing an ankle for the first time.
Dante takes off his helmet, his smile reaching from ear to ear. I feel my face flush. He knows one thousand percent what he’s doing.
Soft R&B plays in the background, capturing my attention as I glance toward Charm's entrance, where security allows a group to enter the club. “This is my friend Alex’s club. It’s known as the motorcycle club on this side of town, but it’s not what you might expect.” I look back at him, his smile softer now. It feels as if he can read my mind and senses my nervousness about it being like a bar in the movies, where rugged men would give you the stare down and accuse you of being on the wrong side of town. “It’s one of the calmest clubs in the city. There are rules to follow; if you break them, you get kicked out for good.”
I smile. “I’ve never heard of it, but I love exploring new places. I’m excited.”
Dante circles his bike, extending his arm so I can take it. “Then let's get you that drink, angel.” My heart flutters at the petname. I wrap my arm around his as he guides us to the front door. “Hey, Tommy,” Dante says casually to the security guard.
“Hey, Dante.” He opens the door, maintaining a stoic and unreadable expression. I can’t determine whether he likes Dante or just takes his job seriously. Either way, it’s a strange interaction.
Soft R&B is bumping through the speakers, a low vibration and smooth beat inside the club. The atmosphere is calm, and the neon-purple sign outside mirrors the club's interior. The club has an expensive, cozy ambiance. Circle booths line the room, and black leather couches encircle the center pillars. Tables sit between the couches, and people lounge comfortably while chatting with other patrons.
“Dante! My boy! Your private booth has been reserved and is ready for you and your beautiful guest, " a darkskin bald man in a tan Versace suit says, standing at the host stand. He wears sleek, thin glasses with a dark tint and a killer smile that contrasts with his rich-melanin features.
“Hi, Vin. Thanks for that.” Dante shakes Vin’s hand, drops my arm, and hugs him. He turns, extending his arm to me. “This is my date, Luna Stirling.”
“Welcome to Charm, Ms. Stirling. Please follow me, and I'll take you to your private booth. Would you like something to drink tonight?” Vin asks as he leads us through the club. Dante waves me in front of him.
“I’ll take a Negroni, please,” I say, following behind Vin.
“A perfect choice, Ms. Stirling. Here is your booth, and I will check your jackets at the front.” I slide off my jacket, handing it to Vin, and settle into the semicircular booth.
Our booth is more secluded, tucked away in the club's corner, and farthest from the live band. Dante slides off his leather biker jacket, and I can’t help but keep my jaw from falling to the floor.
Dante’s arms are ripped and covered with tattoos. The tattoos are mainly black and grey, but I can see hints of color. The purple lighting of the nightclub makes it hard to see clearly,but I can’t take my eyes off his arms as he slides into the seat across from me, folding his hands in front of him and saying something to Vin before he leaves. “My eyes are up here, angel.”
My eyes meet his, and a nervous laugh escapes me as I feel caught. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I just—I didn’t realize you had so many tattoos.”
He cocks a brow, folding his hands under his chin, leaning in. “Is that a problem?”
Problem? I mean, if you call soaking through my panties a problem, then I only want problems from him.“No–No. It surprised me, that's all. I’ve never noticed until now.”
“I’ve been collecting them for a little over five years now. Soon, my whole torso will be covered, with just a few open spaces remaining.”
“A Negroni for the lovely woman,” Vin says, as he places my drink on the table before me. “And water for my boy. I hope you both enjoy your evening. Dante, tell Alex if you see him to come by the house sometime soon. Mary misses you both. You need to come by for a family dinner; we miss you boys.”
“I’ll tell him, Pops.” Vin gives Dante a soft smile, patting him on the back, and returns to the front.
“Pops? Is he your dad?” I ask, curious.
Dante chuckles as he takes a sip of his water. “No, but Vin is like a dad to me. He’s Alex’s dad and the co-owner of this place. Vin, who’s retired, helps out here on weekends during his spare time. He doesn’t have to, if you couldn’t tell by his fancy Versace suit.”
I reach for my drink, taking a sip. I notice Dante doesn’t take his eyes off me. I lower my glass, “And what is it thatyoudo, Dante?” I ask, changing the subject.
