As Felix makes his way downstairs, more of his delicious body reveals itself. The way his ass looks in his tiny black leather shorts makes me drool. His lean, tight body, completely visible beneath this black, mesh top, nearly knocks me off my feet. But, it’s his little smirk that finally confirms I am thoroughly, 100%, without a shadow of a doubt,fucked.
This gender-bending look is ringing my bi-bell like it’s Sunday morning mass, and I’m about ready to be born-again.
He saunters into the kitchen with an innocent look plastered on his face—like he isn’t wearing the hottest, sluttiest outfit I’ve ever seen. Like I’m not helplessly standing here with a dick so hard it could crush diamonds. No, Felix just cocks his head to the side, his green eyes dazzling, and asks, “Ready?”
Ready for what? Burying my face in your ass?
Felix picks up my jacket and hands it to me. “You dropped this.”
I take the jacket, put it on, and rush past him, saying, “Let’s head out.”
Once I’m on my bike, I slide on a helmet and turn to find Felix right beside me, making me jump. He moves like a cat. Felix slides a helmet on, and I realize that he isn’t wearing a jacket.
“Won’t you be cold?” I ask.
Felix shrugs. “Yeah, but the hoodie doesn’t go with the look. I’ll survive.”
Well, I won’t.The idea of other people seeing Felix in this outfit shouldn’t make me jealous.
“Hold on.” I run to my bedroom and find an older leatherjacket I used to wear. When I return, I give it to Felix. “Wear this.”
“Really?” he asks with a level of excitement that is fucking adorable.
“Yeah, you’ll be cold.”
He slips it on, and if I thought I was a goner because of the booty shorts, Felix wearingmyjacket solidifies it.
Deep breaths.
He zips up the jacket, and we board the bike. His hands wrap around my waist, and my hand instinctively presses against his, ensuring he’s secured as I start the bike and speed off.
I’m a friend who’s taking another friend out for a good time. That’s all.
Chapter 25
Felix
Torren races down a long stretch of road, zooming past buildings and eventually leaving the city center altogether. The outskirts of Belmont are a massive forest that stretches for nearly fifty miles before the next town. There’s not a streetlight in sight, making Torren’s single headlight the best chance we’ve got for visibility. I look to the sky and see the moon. It looks bizarre, and I assume it’s the helmet’s visor. When I lift the visor, momentarily blinded by the fierce winds crashing into us, I gasp at the sight above.
My mother always called these Harvest Moons, but I prefer Blood Moon. It’s red, like lava has erupted from its craters, enveloping the normally pale, white moon in a crimson glow.
Torren presses a hand to mine, which are still clasped about his frame, and I just barely hear him scream, “Hold tight.”
The bike veers left, leaving the road entirely, and takes us down a forest path.
We speed past brush, bumping along the narrow trail that snakes through the towering trees, standing like sentinels on either side of us. Torren’s headlight cuts through the darkness,revealing terrifying obstacles like boulders and trees, which he deftly avoids.
I squeeze Torren’s body, letting the force of my hug calm my fear. It’s clear Torren has driven down this makeshift path dozens of times, so I shouldn’t be scared.
His headlight illuminates animals that scurry off the path, their eyes glowing as they peek up and see this machine barreling straight for them. We hit a bump in the road, sending us sailing upward, then landing with a thud. My scream is humiliating, but it makes Torren laugh, and a warm feeling washes over me.
Eventually, a clearing emerges, revealing a ramshackle wooden building where dozens of motorcycles are parked in front. Torren slows his bike and comes to a stop at the end of a long row of bikes. I tear off my helmet and survey the scene. There are half a dozen guys crowded onto the porch wearing leather jackets. Each one has a cup or a can in one hand, and a cigarette or a blunt in the other.
It’s hard to tell in the dark, but the building looks like it was once a light color, like white or cream, but that’s long since faded into a dingy, peeling mess. This doesn’t look like a bar; it looks like an abandoned house in the middle of the woods. I can’t see anything through the windows, but the thumping music from within the building proves it’s definitely a party inside.
“Where are we?” I finally ask.
Torren hooks his helmet to the chain connected to his bike and motions for me to hand over mine. “We just call itBush.Tobias and I found it while cruising through the woods one night and made it a spot for the Hellcats. It’s basically a bar now.”
