“You still need that light?” he drolled.
His hand was still raised between us, the lighter on his palm, and I cleared my throat and reached for it again hesitantly. I did my best not to touch his skin that time, and instead grabbed the lighter as carefully as possible.
“Thanks,” I said, my voice tremoring as I put my cigarette between my lips and lit it. I dropped the lighter back into his palm, again making sure not to touch him.He lit his own cigarette and we stood in mutual silence, both of us smoking our cigarettes as the world went on around us.
I didn’t know what to say to him, and yet the silence between us wasn’t awkward—it was comfortable. He ran a hand through his messy short black hair and continued to watch me, a small frown puckering between his eyebrows. His lashes were dark and long, enough to make any woman envious of them, and when he looked at me with his hooded eyes I had to swallow back a sigh.
“You seem a little tense, darlin’,” he said with a grin, like he was teasing me. His voice was throaty and dark, like the sound of gravel at night. The sound of it rumbled through to my core and my tongue darted out to wet my lips, making his gaze drop to my mouth so he could watch, his smile vanishing as desire filled his gaze.
Shit, who was this man?
I wasn’t the sort of woman to go around and lust after every man I saw—I was faithful and loyal to a fault—but there was something about him that made my body feel lighter and my shoulders drop as the tension left me.
“I’m fine,” I replied dumbly.
His lighter was still in his hand, and he shoved it into the top pocket of his cut and cracked a sexy smile at me before leaning closer.
“You sure about that?” he drolled sexily, making me practically blush as I looked away, my gaze landing on his hard chest that peeked out between the edges of his leather cut.
His cut.
Alarm bells started to ring. And I’m not talking about actual alarm bells, just the ones inside my head as I zeroed my gaze in on the patch on his cut.
“You’re a biker?” I said, my stomach dropping so far down I was surprised it didn’t fall out of my shorts and land in a puddle at my feet. I felt sick. This couldn’t be happening. Clearly he had no idea who I was or the danger he was in if anyone saw the way he was looking at me—hungry, like I was his prey and he was a beast that had cornered me. Yet despite all of this knowledge I instinctively leaned in closer to him, my body betraying my mind despite my best efforts to control it.
It was like he was the sun and I was a flower, my petals forever reaching for his heated touch.
“Yes, ma’am. Born and bred,” he said proudly, his voice a deep rumble that practically vibrated through my core.
I almost groaned out loud as pleasure tingled through me. Jesus, I had to get a grip.
“Name’s Battle, and you are?” he added, his eyes appraising me.
That was a loaded question. For both of us.
He wanted my name, my age, where I was from—the usual stuff men wanted from women before they tried to nail them. But for me it was so much more. The thing was, I didn’t know who I really was anymore. In the past couple of weeks, something had changed inside me. I wasn’t sure if it was me, or everything and everyone else around me, but I was living a lie. Every day I woke up, got dressed, and went about the same bullshit I had previously, yet every day it felt like more and more of a lie. None of it meant anything. There was no aim or reason for anything anymore. I was pretty sure that I’d once been happy to live that way—no chains, no commitments, no promises—but now? Now my heart called out for more.
And I could have it if I wanted it. I just needed to take that next step. Only the next step didn’t feel right, and so there I was, wandering aimlessly around the town I grew up in and wondering what the hell I was going to do with my life.
I still hadn’t answered Battle, but he didn’t look impatient at me making him wait. In fact, the longer I made him wait, the more amused he looked. He dragged a hand over his short beard before taking another drag on his own cigarette.
God, he was beautiful. It was unfair how beautiful. Like a cruel joke put there to test my resolve. His body was packed tight with hard muscles, all of them tanned from the sun, with tattoos across his broad chest and down his muscled arms. His hair was dark and short and a little scruffy on top, like he’d just gotten out of bed, and I knew if I closed my eyes I’d easily be able to imagine dragging my hands through it.
I was lost in the moment, my dirty thoughts dragging me into their fantasy. I needed to get out of there before everything went to hell. I was trouble, or at least I would be for Battle if Ripped ever found out we’d been talking. It was an improbability that I doubted would ever happen—there were plenty of bikers in Georgia, and not all of them belonged to a club—yet I shouldn’t have been taking the risk.
“You wanna sit?” he asked, nodding toward one of the old concrete benches.
“I uh, I should probably go,” I said, chewing the inside of my cheek.Probablywas an understatement. I should definitely go, and yet I made no effort to walk away from him, even knowing that he was a biker.
His expression fell, his cockiness slipping and revealing something else underneath. Not quite sadness, but disappointment maybe.
“Hey, mister?”
Battle turned around at the voice of one of the skater kids. “’Sup, kid?”
“Are you Battle?”
“Sure am.”
