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My cut, my leather vest, was draped over the chair, as well, looking cozy in the unfamiliar space. But the rest of my clothes were conspicuously absent. My heart hammered in my chest as I scrambled to cover myself, pulling the crisp white sheets tighter around my body.
Then he appeared, Riptide, in nothing but a destressed pair of jeans that hung low on his hips. Fuck, the man looked delicious. I found myself wanting to lick the sexy muscles leading into his denim. The morning light filtered in, casting him in a soft glow that did nothing to soften the intensity of his presence. But everything to make him seem more approachable. He was measured, his expression unreadable as he came to stand beside the bed.
“We had to cut your clothes off,” he explained, his voice unexpectedly gentle.
“My leather?” I squeaked.
“We needed to make sure you weren’t injured. You took quite a fall.”
His words, meant to reassure, only served to highlight the intimacy of our current situation, an intimacy that was both unexpected and unnerving. The realization that I was here, in his space, vulnerable in a way I hadn’t been since… Well, since high school, was a jolt to my system.
The dynamics between us, always complicated, had shifted once again, leaving me to navigate a landscape that seemed both familiar and entirely foreign. As I sat there, wrapped in his sheets, the events of the night before and the actuality of my present situation collided, leaving me caught in the crossfire of a history I believed I had moved on from and a future that was anything but certain.
Trying to shift even a little bit sent a jolt of pain zipping through me, making it crystal clear I wasn’t about to hop off this bed anytime soon. Riptide, seeming to read my struggle like an open book, parked himself next to me. The biker was close enough for me to feel the heat rolling off him, and I couldn’t resist the urge to get a little lost in the art scrolling over his skin. Those tats were telling stories I was suddenly itching to read, but as if I were blind, like braille. I wanted to touch him, all of him.
I decided to look at anything but his hot bod. My gaze landed on an aquarium set against the far wall, a vibrant world of color and movement contained within its glass boundaries. Home to an array of exotic fish, their hues of blues, greens, and reds creating a mesmerizing dance, it held my attention and calmed my waking mind.
I watched, fascinated, as the fish glided effortlessly through the water, their world a silent, fluid dance. Riptide, noticing my interest, slinked up behind me, his arms encircling my waist, and rested his chin on my shoulder to watch with me.
“You like them?” he asked, his voice soft in the quiet morning.
“They’re beautiful,” I replied, still captivated by the display. “I didn’t take you for a fish guy.”
He chuckled, the sound warm against my ear. “There’s a lot you’ll discover about me,” he said, then paused, his gaze fixed on the tank. “The ocean, it’s a part of who I am. Did I ever tell you how I got my name, Riptide?”
I shook my head, my curiosity piqued, and he continued, “I was always drawn to the sea, even as a kid. The power of it, the vastness. My first time surfing, I got caught in a riptide. Fought against it with everything I had, nearly drowned. But it taught me a crucial lesson, sometimes you need to go with the flow, find the path of least resistance to save your strength for the real battles.”
I glanced at him, and he was all about how the fish related to his life philosophy. I tried real hard not to laugh. “So, you named yourself after a near-death experience?” I asked, half teasing, half in awe of the depth of his reflection.
“Something like that,” he admitted with a small smile. “It’s a reminder to myself. Respect the power of nature, of life, and know when to fight and when to let go.”
The exotic fish in his tank, I realized, were more than just pets or decorations. They were a symbol of Riptide’s connection to the elemental forces of nature, a piece of his soul encapsulated in the serene world of his aquarium. Watching them, I felt a deeper understanding of the man beside me, the man Hudson had become.
“You need to take it easy,” he said, all soft-like, which just sounded strange given the whole biker prez vibe he had going on.
I couldn’t shake off the awkwardness of this situation.
He was aware of my introspection. “Thinking about a hospital run?”
I had let out a half-laugh, half-groan, rubbing my neck. “Nah, don’t feel like anything’s busted. Just feels like I went a few rounds with a sledgehammer.”
“I didn’t drag you to a doc last night ‘cause I didn’t wanna jump to any conclusions,” he admitted, his eyes darting away for a sec.
He was dancing around it, but I got the hint. “Look, if you’re worried, I’ve got the law on my tail, I don’t. I’m not running from anyone,” I shot back, trying to catch his eye.
He nodded, though it was clear he wasn’t thrilled. “Then you should get checked out. Just to be on the safe side.” Then he hit me with the million-dollar question. “So, why are you tangled up with a biker gang like the Heelz if you’re clean? Seems like trouble to me.”
I could feel my hackles rising because, hell, no one talks down the Hell on Heelz. “The Heelz are my family. We’ve got each other’s backs, which is probably more than I can say for some,” I snapped, my loyalty to my club shining fierce and bright.
He had looked taken aback, but then settled into a sort of resigned understanding. “You ever wonder why I ended up leading the Slayers?” he countered, his voice dropping a bit softer. “Wasn’t for the glory, I’ll tell you that much.”
He took a breath like he was diving into deep water. “Everything changed when my old man crashed from his pedestal.”
“I heard about that,” I said, acknowledging his highfalutin dad went to jail on corruption charges.
“Went from hero to zero overnight. I lost it all. Respect, a future, a damn sense of direction. The Slayers gave me something to hold on to, a new family. Sounds like we’re not so different, you and me.”
Hearing him lay it all out, the rough edges of his life alongside mine, it was like seeing him in a whole new light. The guy who used to get under my skin in all the wrong ways was now standing before me, sharing his battle scars. It was a lot to take in.
