How is it possible for a motorcycle trick to be seductive? Because that might as well have been foreplay. My body burns.
Hayes strips off his helmet and climbs off the bike, grinning as he walks back over.
“Good job not dying,” Steel says, smacking him on the shoulder as he walks past.
“Thanks, Prez.” Hayes turns to me, grinning. “See, piece of cake.”
“Clearly.” I bite my lower lip, and my cheeks are on fire.
The next member is already on the bike, ready to go, but Hayes tugs my hand, pulling me back inside. I give Willa a quick wave as I follow him.
“That was something,” I say, dipping my hands back into my pockets as we stop in the empty clubhouse.
Everyone has found their way outside by now, so the only break in silence is the click of the fans overhead.
“Do you do that kind of thing often?”
“Not so much lately.” He plants a hand on the wall, which brings us closer.
“Because you’re busy?”
“That and Charlie… and you,” he admits, surprising me. “I didn’t use to give a shit what happened to me, but I can’t really think like that anymore.”
“That’s surprisingly sweet.”
He shrugs like it’s nothing. Maybe he wishes it were. From the glimpse of his life, it’s clear he’s spent it doing whatever he wants, living it to the fullest. It must be an adjustment to have that change so quickly. For him to suddenly have someone dependent on him.
My gaze roams his cut. It’s littered with patches. Proof of a life he’s lived with the club—of the risks he’s taken.
“Why do they call you Soul?” I ask, my stare settling on the letters stitched above his vice president patch.
He lifts off the wall, tucking his thumbs into his pockets. “It started as a joke from my dad. He used to say I was too soft, that having a soul wasn’t gonna do me any good in a world like this. He said there were good guys and then there were guys like us, and to never forget that. The name stuck. It reminded me that I might be a shit person who has done terrible things, but at least I wasn’t him.”
I lift my palm, hesitating a moment when my hand hovers at his chest, then daring to plant my hand on it. His warmth radiates through his thin T-shirt as I look up into his eyes.
“You’ve got a good soul, Hayes, no matter what your dad told you. And you’ve got a big heart; I’ve seen it.”
“That tends to get guys killed in my line of work.”
“At least those guys die for something real.”
He swallows hard, his eyes locked on me. I’m terrified of him dying, but I’d rather he be a man who cares than a man like my uncle or Eli.
Hayes is an enigma in leather. Danger written in his eyes, but comfort in his smile. Every time I think I have him figured out, he shows me another side of himself.
The back slider opens as a few bikers step through. They tip their chins to Hayes in passing but leave us alone. Still, the energy in the room shifts when it’s not only the two of us. He’s no longer mine—he’s theirs.
Not that he’smineat all.
“I should get back.” I wring my fingers together, stepping sideways to create some distance. “Charlie’s going to wake up soon.”
“I can drive you.”
“I’m good.” I force a smile. “I’m sure you’re busy.”
Disappointment has his smile falling at my rejection, but I don’t give him time to argue as I turn, cutting through the crowd now filling the room. I weave between bodies, avoiding whispers and quick glances.
I disappear like I’m good at, and it’s for the best.
