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“Razor.”
His stunning gaze dropped from my face to my cut, or the patch on my cut, then up again.
God, he was short. The top of his head was at my collarbone.
“Razor? That’s your club name. I can see it there.” He pointed to the patch. “And that you’re the president to the Fury motorcycle club. But what’s your birth name?”
“Corbin.”
Why the fuck did I tell him? No one knew unless they were important to me, and yet, there I was, spewing it out to this Riker guy I kidnapped.
Ignoring the way he lit up after hearing it, I demanded, “Why the fuck are you still here? I stole you, kid.”
He bounced on his feet again, holding his hands together under his chin. “But you did it to save me.”
“Christ,” I grumbled. “I ain’t no hero, so don’t even fuckin’ think that shit. Those two pricks back there were lookin’ for your blood. I took you out of the situation and that’s it. Actually, you can leave now.” I waved him off.
Jesus motherfucking Christ. The way he looked at me, like I’d gutted him right there on my front porch, stabbed me right in the heart.
Closing my eyes, I tipped my head back and asked for… I didn’t have a clue what to ask for. Patience? A head exam? Help for things to make sense?
Grumbling some curse words, I turned, unlocked the door, and flung it wide before I reached in to turn on the living room light.
Moving out of the way, I ordered, “Get inside.”
His playful puppy look was back in full force. “Okay,” he sang as he bounced through. “We have so much to talk about, and I can’t wait until I show you what I can do. You didn’t freak out over Deacon. You just strolled up with your gun raised high—like a wet dream—while you demanded them not to move so you could grab me right out from there. Which was awesome, by the way.” He made his way around the living room, looking and touching everything he saw. “This is pretty,” he said, picking up a dagger my pops, the last living relative who passed five years ago—God rest his soul—gave me when I took over the club after my dickhead of a father overdosed.
I wouldn’t exactly call a dagger pretty, but as I watched Riker pick it up gently to twist it this way and that, I noticed he really was admiring it as if it was something wondrous. He ran his thumb over the sharp edge.
“Careful,” I barked, stomping over and taking his hand away. Blood already welled. Instinctively, I put his digit in my mouth and sucked.
Then froze.
Until my gaze traveled to Riker’s. His pupils were blown wide, and he bit his bottom lip.
Swiftly, I removed his thumb and shoved his hand away to stalk across the room.
I had to keep my distance from the boy.
He appealed to me too much and all in a matter of moments. No one had ever done that. Hell, I’d even got an excited dip to my gut from how Riker looked ready to cut himself again while wanting me to fuck him senseless.
And how I got that visual all from a single look, I had no clue.
My cock ached and throbbed like I was a teen again.
Why this boy?
The metallic taste of his blood lingered in my mouth no matter how many times I swallowed. It made me want to bite him again to see that heat in his stunning gaze.
Mark him up in punishment.
I unlocked my jaw and ordered sharply, “Sit the fuck down.”
I was pissed at him, pissed at myself, and pissed about the whole situation.
Hell, maybe it was just my confusion turned into annoyance.
I didn’t fucking know.
