I laugh under my breath and glance back across the bar. She’s still celebrating with her friends, arms in the air, face flushed, laughing like she owns the place. Like the whole room bends a little toward her without realizing it. Fuck. She’s gorgeous.
Her hair falls down her back in long, blonde waves, catching the light every time she moves, and the thought of running my fingers through it hits hard and suddenly. Damn, and that makes me think of fisting it while I thrust into her, owning every single inch of her. She’s a tiny thing with a body that makes no sense in the best possible way. Thick ass filling out those jeans like they’re holding on for dear life and tits that pull my eyes back every damn time I try to be polite about it.
The ink along her arm flashes when she lifts her bottle, color and lines flowing over her skin, and something tightens in my chest at the idea of tracing them with my tongue. I’m dying to know where each piece starts and ends, and find out which ones mean something and which ones she got just because she wanted them.
I shouldn’t want this. Shouldn’t want her. Not like this. Not this fast. But my eyes keep coming back to her anyway. Yeah. I’m already in trouble. Something tightens in my chest lighting up under my ribs like I just found a new addiction. Firecracker fits her too damn well. Her spunk. Her mouth. The way she stood there, cocky and fearless, daring me to blink first. The way she didn’t hesitate when it mattered. The way she looked at me like she already knew she’d won.
I tuck my phone away and head back to the table. Riot clocks it immediately. His gaze flicks from my face to my pocket and back again, brows lifting slow. “Well, I’ll be fucked,” he says. “You look like you just won something better than trivia.”
I drop into my chair and grab my beer, but I don’t drink it. I don’t need to. I’m already wired. “Did we not lose?”
Riot snorts. “You did. But that’s not what I’m talking about.” He jerks his chin toward the front of the bar. “Is that her?”
I follow his glance without really meaning to. She’s still glowing, still laughing too loud, still exactly herself. My chest tightens again, possessive instinct flaring hot and fast before I can stop it. I shrug, casual on the surface, locked down underneath. “Maybe.”
He huffs a laugh. “You don’t do maybe.”
I don’t answer. Because he’s right and saying anything else would feel like giving something away I’m not ready to share. Not her. Not even her name. Especially not her name. She’s mine and I don’t want anyone else’s hands on her.
Riot lets it go, but not without one last look. “Alright,” he says. “Guess we’ll see how this plays out.”
I stand before anyone else can chime in. “I’m heading out.”
A couple of the guys look surprised. Someone mutters, “Already?”
“Yeah,” I say, grabbing my cut. “Not feeling the bar tonight.”
Which is true. I don’t want the noise. And I sure as fuck don’t want some random woman pressing herself against me in a dark corner, offering something empty and easy. I don’t need it.
I step outside, the night air cool against my skin, and swing a leg over my bike. The engine roars to life beneath me, vibration steady and familiar. As I pull out onto the road, my thoughts drift right back to her. My Firecracker. The way she smiled when she won. The way she didn’t flinch. The way she looked at me like a challenge instead of a fantasy.
I’m riding the high of learning her name, of knowing I’ll see her again, of the promise sitting heavy and real between us. And it feels a hell of a lot better than any rando in a back room ever could.
My phone buzzes before I even turn onto my street.
I glance down at the screen at the red light and freeze.
It’s a picture of Savannah at Jake’s, phone angled just right. Booth behind her. Neon beer sign glowing over her shoulder.Cheeks flushed, eyes bright, that smile on her face like she knows exactly what she’s doing to me. Her hair’s loose, falling over one shoulder. The neckline of her top dipping just enough to be distracting without trying. She looks happy. Buzzed. Dangerous. Like she’s riding the same high I am.
A second later, the text comes through underneath it.
Firecracker: Still smiling about that win ??
My grip tightens on the handlebars as my chest gets hot and tight all at once. Yeah. That’ll do it. I pull into my driveway, kill the engine, and sit there for a second longer than necessary, staring at the picture, then I text her back.
Me: You still celebrating at Jake’s?
The reply comes almost immediately.
Firecracker: Nope. Just got home. Why?
I grin as I step inside, helmet dropped on the counter. The quiet of the house settles around me, but my attention stays right there with her. I glance back at the photo she sent, smile tugging at my mouth.
Me: You looked pretty pleased with yourself in that picture.
There’s a brief pause, like she’s deciding how much trouble she wants to cause.
Firecracker: I was. Still am. You ready to sit for that tattoo?
