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CHAPTER TWO
Iopen my eyes when we lose them. When the only sound is our bike and no one else’s rocketing behind us. We don’t ride for long, or maybe it feels like that once I peel them open to see we’ve left the city altogether.
Milton skids to a halt alongside a dirt-trodden path after turning onto a narrow woodland road. Once his legs support the weight of the bike and me on it, he cuts the engine.
A bird squawks, and the wind rustles the leaves on the ground as he reaches up with leather-bound hands to remove his helmet. A thick layer of damp hair falls across his forehead, framing eyes scoured by fire.
I can’t swallow. Or breathe. I’ve seen many versions of Milton, but never this. He’s never given anything away like this. Whatever barrier he had in place before has now crumbled. Fury and guilt are there, but there’s also something else that bites at my heart. Something I can’t begin to describe with words. There’s no intention on his part to show it, I can tell, and seeing genuine emotion from him is a little terrifying.
Grabbing the knife poking out of his chest, he pulls it and breathes through its sting. Folding it over, he pockets it, and then his hand slams against my throat.
As I cry out in shock, I’m drawn forward until I’m right in front of his face. A ragged breath assaults my lips, but not close enough for his own to touch them. I want him to. The shadows in his eyes deflect my desire for him, so I don’t know why I feel such pulsing waves of longing for him. “I could’ve killed you.”
As I swallow, I feel the ridges of his fingers. I don’t think he’s talking about almost losing control of the bike after stabbing him. He means what happened in the club. “Yo… you didn’t—”
“Icouldhave. You can’t just do something like that without a safe word. Without precautions. You don’t know me or what my fucking limits are. Do you understand?”
As if possessed, I lean forward until my lips touch his. He saved me, but I can’t say thank you. How stupid does it sound? Pathetic?
Tugging me back a little, he eyes my mouth, his grip keeping me away. I almost want to scream “the hell with limits” so he can close the gap between us. But I don’t, and he doesn’t give in. He refuses. And it stings alongside the despair I felt of being kicked out.
My heart sinks with sickening disappointment when he drops his hand and turns his head to the side.
I’m not his girl anymore—not that I ever was. My one night pretending in Club X with him is over, and I’m back to being whatever I was to him before it—a lot of nothing. We’re still ensnared in a fiery spell, and I’m aching for him to kiss me and cover my mouth with his. Almost enough to cause me to lose my balance and fall off his bike.
And God, I should hate him for what he did to me in his rooms. I shouldn’t want him as much as I do now when everything is so fucked up.
While gazing at the surrounding woodland, a crease appears between his eyebrows as if he is contemplating troubling things. The pause makes me realize how cold it has become, even under the canopy of trees. And fuck is my arm killing.
Seeing my discomfort from the corner of his eye, he gently takes my arm and turns it around to examine the stab wound near my elbow. “How did this happen?”
He won’t let go of my arm when I try to take it away. “I had to climb out of a window. It was a bit of metal.”
“Rusted?” I shrug, unable to remember, and he shifts to put his helmet back on. “We’ll continue this later.”
The bike starts again, and my blood simmers with anger. Continuewhat? He’s made it clear he doesn’t want me. “There’s no more contract. You can just let me off here,” I say before he shoves his hat back on.
Slamming his hand against my hip when I try to jump off, he locks me back in place. The coolness of his leather glove on my bare skin freezes me, the blackness of his eyes revealing that the beast has returned. The one they dragged me away from back in the club as if Maxim knew what I’d unleashed. “Do that again, and I will knock you out. Stoppushingit.”
Knock me out?
Plunging two fingers through the slit in his jacket, straight into his stab wound, he grunts and grips me tighter. I’ll bruise. I don’t care. Even when the slickness of his flesh and blood around my fingers makes my stomach turn. He’s hurt me so much that I want him tofeelit.
“Heidi.” It’s a warning. His nostrils flare as he puffs out. “The contract still stands.” Pressing my lips together, I push deeper, and his teeth clench. “I’m moving you tonight.”
“I fucking hate you,” I sneer and can’t stand the arrogant smirk stretching over his lips.
“You should.”
Removing my fingers, his body sags. “The contract was destroyed.”
“Not to me, it wasn’t. I’ve plenty of copies.”
“Does one of your copies say not to fuck my mouth like a crazed man?”
“Not when the crazed woman forces it out of him.” Kicking the bike to life, it shudders through my body. We take off so fast the wind steals my air. My breath will probably never return.
