He passes the cigarette back and I notice my fingers tremble slightly after our touch.
“Every good thing that tries to happen here gets swallowed, and not by The Pit. Every chance. Every person who might’ve made it out.” I laugh. “That’s what Tar City’s known for. Not monsters, people with black little hearts making sure nothing ever changes.”
Jax takes the cigarette back, exhales slowly.
“Easy to judge,” he mutters. “When you didn’t have to survive it.”
I look at him. “Maybe.” The word comes out cold. “I can’t believe Millie’s at the Redline,” I say. “Of all places.”
“She’s working, Sisk,” he says. “Like the rest of us.”
“Right.” I snatch the cigarette back, taking a long drag and exhaling a plume of smoke toward the river. “So why were you there? The ambiance? Don’t pretend that’s any better.”
He laughs. “Despite what my name says, I never promised to be a saint, Sisk.” His eyes drag over me, stripping me bare. “Fuck—you were never into good boys anyway. You wanted trouble. If I remember right.”
I hate that he’s right. I hate that my body remembers it too.
“You think I don’t know what you wanted when you got on the bike tonight?” He steps closer. Too close.
Two fingers hook under my chin, his grip firm, forcing my face up before I can look away. “You were looking to be fucked, weren’t you?”
Heat flashes straight into anger. My hand is already coming up to slap him, but he’s faster. He pulls me in and steals the kiss before I can even draw breath to scream. His mouth is hard, demanding, and my brain shorts out.
I shove against his chest. “Get your fucking hands off me. Now.”
He just crowds me more, backing me up against the bike. His body is a wall of heat and muscle in front of me.
“Then say it like you mean it.”
“Let me go,” I force out, my voice shaking with rage.
“Are you sure?” he breathes, his free hand sliding around my waist, pinning me. “Because I can almost smell how bad you want this.”
“I’m not looking for a pity fuck, Jax. Trust me—I get laid plenty.”
His hand slides around my waist, yanking me flush against him before I can step back.
“Walk away,” he says against my mouth, his voice a low growl. “Go on. I dare you.”
I turn like I mean to. My muscles tense, ready to bolt and I almost make it a step. His hand closes around my arm, firm and unyielding.
“Run, rabbit,” he drawls, his lips brushing my ear. “I’d love to chase you.”
I yank against his grip, my pulse hammering. “You don’t scare me, Jax. You can drop the act.”
A red glow flickers in his eyes and this time I know I saw it for sure. “Yeah. You should be.”
I hate that he knows exactly how this works. Knows I’ll look back. I do.
His mouth tilts—slow, satisfied—like he never doubted it. Before I can rethink anything, his hands are on my waist, lifting me effortlessly. He sets me on the bike—this time facing forward, my back against his chest. He swings on behind me, his thighs bracketing mine, caging me in.
“You can hate me tomorrow,” he whispers in my right ear, his breath hot against my skin.
My pulse stutters.
“Tonight—” His hand tightens at my hip. “—I want you right here.”
He leans me back against him. “Feet up. On the pegs.”
