Ican still feel where he touched me.
The spot on my wrist burns like a brand, my pulse hammering underneath.I lean against the wall just inside the door, trying to catch my breath, to make sense of what just happened out there.
He apologized.Really apologized.Not the half-arsed sorry he muttered while scrambling for his clothes three nights ago, but actual honesty.Raw and uncomfortable and real.
And I believed him.
That's the part that scares me most.I believed every word.
The clubhouse noise crashes over me, music, laughter, voices blending into one another.Too loud.Too much.I need to find Ciara, to ground myself in something normal before I do something stupid.
Like go back outside.
Like let him touch me again.
My hands are shaking.I press them flat against my thighs, willing them to stop.This is fine.I'm fine.He apologized, I accepted it, and we're done.Clean break.Both of us know where we stand.
Except we don't, do we?
Because I didn't pull away.Not at first.I let him hold my wrist, let his thumb trace circles on my skin, let myself feel the heat of him standing so close I could taste his breath.
And I wanted more.
Christ, I wanted more.
"There you are!"Ciara appears beside me, drink in hand, eyes bright."Where'd you go?Rush was wanting me to introduce you to everyone and I lost you."
"I just needed some air."The lie comes easy.Too easy.
She studies my face, frowning slightly."You alright?You look?—"
"I'm grand."I push off the wall and force a smile."Just warm in here."
"Right."She doesn't believe me, but she lets it drop."Come on, Rush wants you to meet Pyro, the President of the club.He's actually pretty sound.He’s Callie’s son-in-law."
Callie’s our boss.Her daughter is Chloe, who I’ve met already, and she’s one of the sweetest people you’d ever meet.You’d never guess that her entire family is involved in the criminal world, with her da being the head of the Irish Mafia here in Ireland and her brothers running the UK and Spain, not to mention all of her cousins being involved in the family business in the States, and Chloe’s fella is the president of this motorcycle club.
I let her pull me deeper into the room, away from the door, away from the possibility of Tank walking back in.I need distance.I need to remember why I can't do this.
Warren.I have Warren.And Warren needs me steady and whole, not falling apart over some biker with sad eyes and careful hands.
But even as I think about it, my eyes are scanning the room, looking for him.
Our eyes meet across the room.
Everything else fades.There’s only him, looking at me with an intensity that makes my stomach drop and my breath catch and every nerve ending light up like a fucking warning flare.
This is dangerous.
He's dangerous.
Not in the way Declan was, not violent or cruel or controlling.But dangerous in the way he makes me want things I've sworn off.He makes me feel things I can't afford to feel.
I look away first, turning my attention to whatever Ciara's saying—something about Rush's bike, or club runs, or...I don't know.I can't focus.My brain's too busy replaying the last ten minutes.
I wasn't thinking about her.I was thinking about you.Only you.
I want to believe him.God, I want to believe him so badly it hurts.
