“Thank you,” she says quietly.
I nod once and turn to go.If I stay, I’ll do something I can’t take back.
“Wait.”
Her voice stops me cold.I turn.She’s standing there, nervous but steady.“What about you?”
“I’ll grab the couch.”
“You got blood on your knuckles.”
“I’ve had worse.”
“Let me clean it.”
I should say no.Instead, I watch her cross the room, take my hand like it belongs to her.She leads me to the small bathroom, grabs a towel from the wall.Hot water, soft pressure.She smells like peppermint and fear fading into something else that tastes like want.
“This part of the job?”she asks.
The job?I hesitate.“What do you mean?”
“Being a biker?”
“Just instinct.”
“You could’ve been killed.”
“Would’ve been easier.”
Her gaze snaps up.“Don’t say that.”
“I’ve been saying worse for years.”
Carol opens drawers and finds gauze.She wraps my hand.When she ties the knot, her fingers linger.That’s when I notice she’s bleeding, too.Just a scratch, probably from the glass breaking.I take her hand and clean it the way she did mine.My hand doesn’t leave hers when I’m finished, either.I should step back.I don’t.
“Carol,” I start, but the name comes out rough.
She looks up, her brown eyes reflecting a man I once was, and the world narrows again.
Her sweet lips part, a breath between us, and I don’t even remember closing the distance.My kiss isn’t gentle.It’s what happens when two people stop pretending they’re okay.My tongue thrusts, and her mouth opens wider.She tastes like peppermint and sugar, like the edge of survival.
Damn, I want to throw her against the bathroom sink and rip her clothes off.My hands find her hips as I growl into her mouth.
She pulls back, her eyes wide.“You shouldn’t have done that.”
“You kissed me back.”
“I’m supposed to be with someone.”
“So am I.”
The honesty hits like a gunshot.For a heartbeat, we just stare, two liars who told one truth.
Then she whispers, “I don’t care right now.”
“I don’t either.”My hands find her waist, slide under the hem of her sweater.Her skin’s tight, soft, warm.I sense her pulse quickening against my fingertips.
The heater hums.The snow outside thickens against the window.For a moment, we move together, body against body, like we’re still riding the adrenaline high, like we both need proof we’re alive.
