“You want me outta here or not?”
“You do realize I’m standing in front of my ride, and I can go and leave you here in a sec?”
“Don’t be a dick. I came with you this morning. How am I supposed to go home now?”
“Fine,” I growled, my hand already in my pocket. “But I swear if you do as much as scratch it...”
“Stop worrying.” She snatched the keys out of my grip and jumped to peck Dusty on the cheek.
My jaw dropped, and he chuckled. “Bye, Ash.”
She leaned into me, tilting her head up to reach my ear, and I contemplated pinching her little nose. “Don’t be selfish. Think about what I told you in class.”
“Fuck you.” I raised my foot to kick her butt, but she had already dashed away, giggling.
“She’s so cute,” Dusty said.
My eyes narrowed at him. “Seriously?”
“What, she’s not cute?”
“She is, but only I can say it. When someoneelsedoes, he’s going to be whipped very hard tonight.”
A sparkle lit his eyes as he pressed me into him. Into the throbbing erection in his jeans. “Yes, please.” His warm breaths danced on my neck, then inside my mouth.
Hot waves of need engulfed me. His hair fell onto his wide shoulders, grazing his cut. My stare roamed the tattooed muscles strained under his white T-shirt, and my hands slid under and down to his back. His ass. Pictures of me spanking these firm cheeks as he…
The sound of my breathing snapped me out of the dirty thoughts and into awareness. “Fuck.” I drew back as I realized people were staring. At us. At him.
He pulled me back in without a care in the world, his kisses wet on my neck. If it were for him, he would take me right here right now. I chuckled nervously. “Dusty, we’re at school. C’mon, let’s get out of here.”
He planted a few more kisses down to my throat and collarbones, then a deep one on my lips. “Fine.”
His gaze, smoldering but intimidating, shooed the peeping crowds as he opened the studded trunk locked on the bike and handed me a helmet. There was something about Dusty that exuded confidence, but at the same time, he was menacing to strangers. Maybe it was his size or the patch on his cut.
The Night Skulls. My eternal enemy.
He took his helmet and gloves off the handle and put them on. “Hop on.”
We flew around the curves of the winding road leading to the coast. I held on tightly, my arms wrapped around his waist. The Harley vibrated loudly between my thighs as I wrapped them around his narrow hips. Heat radiated from his body, and my tight grip kept slipping under his clothes, giving me a chance to feel his rippling muscles.
I was used to riding by now, but with Dusty, it was a different experience. Thrilling. The feeling of the open air rushing past me. The rebelliousness of throwing caution to the wind. The true meaning of letting go.
As we rounded a particularly tight curve, I clutched him even tighter. He reached back, his glove-wrapped hand patting my thigh as if saying, “I got you. Trust me.”
And I did. Against all logic. How could I trust him? A Night Skull? Roar’s offspring? The new leader of the goddamn gang who killed my sister?
How could I love him this much?
It’d been months since we decided to put the past behind us and become together. Still, I was shocked those feelings were getting through, past all the fear and uncertainty. Past all the despair and the darkness we’d been through.
It was freeing, yet it scared me to the very depths of my soul. My arms tightened around him more as the bike sliced through the wind.
He parked the bike next to a steep flight of stairs that led down to the beach below. We left our helmets on the bike, and he grabbed my hand, intertwining his fingers in mine, as we climbed down.
My boots sank into the sand with each step towards the water. Pink and purple streaks lay over a deep, indigo background. The ocean waves crashed onto the beach, sliding along the slick, undulated sand, and then slinking back into the water.
Dangerously strong. Unstoppable. Like the way we felt for each other.
