Torched (11 page)

“Torch, listen,” I interrupted. I had to get some things off my chest before losing my nerve. “What I said last time, about you being broken and feeling sorry for you, telling you not very nicely to leave me alone… I’m really sorry. I was just tired and upset and not in a good place.”

He shook his head, looking down at his feet. “You don’t have to apologize, I was a dick. Shouldn’t have pushed.”

“You were concerned. I looked like hell. I get it.”

“Yeah.”

“Thank you,” I added.

“For what?”

“For tonight. For coming to my rescue. Again.”

Torch gave me a sly smile. “Actually, I was coming to that pussy’s rescue. Figured after seeing you clock him, he was about to get a lot worse. Pretty sure you broke the motherfucker’s nose.”

That
was
pretty epic. “Yeah, well, thank you anyway. Seems like every time we see each other, you’re going out of your way to help me.”

“You’re not a charity case, just so we’re clear,” he mumbled.

I sighed. “I know. I shouldn’t have said that either.”

My eyes fell to his arm, which was casually slung across the small table separating us. I honed in on a tattoo made up of cursive writing on his forearm.

It was familiar, a short poem I’d read and memorized. Mitch hadn’t allowed me to hang out at the library after pulling me out of school, but I’d begged him for
something
. Anything. He didn’t understand poetry, thought it was just a bunch of girly mumbo jumbo, so poetry books were what I got to shut me up. On nights when I couldn’t fall asleep, I read my favorite ones over and over, until I could see them in my head just as they were written on the paper.

Without thinking, I reached over and touched the ink. Torch stayed perfectly still as I traced his skin with my fingertips.

Some say the world will end in fire,

Some say in ice.

From what I’ve tasted of desire,

I hold with those who favor fire.

Robert Frost, one of my favorites. It took a moment for the rest of the poem to come back to me, but I slowly pieced it back together from memory.

“But if I had to perish twice,” I said out loud, “I think I know enough of hate… to know that for destruction, ice… is also great… and would suffice.”

I looked up at him, hoping to catch a hint of why this man would have poetry, of all things, tattooed on his tanned skin.

“You know it by heart?” Torch asked, taken aback.

I nodded. “My world used to be pretty bleak. Some days, poetry was the only pretty thing in it.” I cleared my throat, quickly trying to focus on him instead of the depressing thoughts that would storm my brain momentarily if I let them.

“My little sister loved Frost too.”

“Is she—”

“She’s gone,” he said, his tone suddenly icy.

I had no idea what to say. Clearly, there were unresolved issues lingering for him. Apologizing never made anyone feel better and I sure as shit didn’t want to rip open old wounds by asking what had happened.

“What was she like?” I asked.

He looked confused. “What was my sister like?”

“Yeah. I’d like to hear about her. I mean, if it’s not too hard for you. You can tell me to mind my own business.”

After a pause that seemed to go on forever—so long that I thought maybe I’d offended him—he took me by surprise and laid it all out. “Her name was Emily.”

Em, that’s who he’d been talking about with Snoop.

“She was beautiful,” he continued. “Just a constant ray of fucking sunshine in my own bleak world. She was smart as a whip. Loved reading and movies and picking flowers. Used to drive our neighbors nuts ‘cause she couldn’t pass a rose bush without taking a few home with her. But she was such a sweet girl that they never said shit to my parents. The last time I saw her, she was still in pigtails.”

“So she was just a child when it happened?”

He shook his head. “No, that was just the last time I saw her. She was ten. I had to leave home. Looking back, I should’ve taken her with me. I shouldn’t have left her behind.”

The pain in his eyes ran deep, and I got the sense that this was a rare time he was willing to talk about the subject out loud. His arm was still resting on the table and I instinctively laced my fingers through his as a gesture of empathy and support. He didn’t pull away. I didn’t know why he’d left home, but it had to have been some serious shit to just walk away from his life and never look back.

I could relate.

“I’m pretty sure taking a ten year old with you would’ve been considered kidnapping,” I assured him, knowing that it really wouldn’t be comforting.

He clenched his jaw. “I should’ve done it anyway.”

“When did she—”

“Late last year. A piece of shit ex-boyfriend killed her. Raped her first.”

I felt a lump form in my throat. Christ. It was all making sense now. Everything he’d done and said since stumbling upon me—beaten and broken—made sense. And I’d been a total bitch and a half about it.

“I don’t know what to say, Torch. I’m so sorry. Not just for your loss, but for thinking you were being an asshole.”

“No need to keep apologizing, babe. You asked me to lay off and I should’ve respected it. You’re not my sister. You left instead of thinking some bullshit restraining order would be enough. You were smarter and I should’ve given you more credit.”

“It brought back some shit. I get it.”

Torch shrugged and threw back the last of his beer. “I need another fucking drink. You?”

“Yeah, something stronger. Did you get a room? You got here pretty late.”

“Snoop’s letting me crash on his couch tonight. Didn’t have anything open ‘til tomorrow.”

Well, at least we’d have a babysitter.

“So you’re staying for a while?” I asked.

“Don’t know. I’m not the kind of man that makes plans these days, darlin’. I go where I’m told. The rest of the time, I wander.” He didn’t offer up any more of an explanation before standing up and grabbing my hand. “Come on. I’m sure the old man’s got the good shit stashed at his place.”

: 7 :

Torch hadn’t gotten
any
fucking sleep after she passed out on the couch. He’d managed to keep his hands to himself, only because Snoop was one thin wall away from hearing it. Not that he gave a shit who saw or heard him fucking, but the old man had made it clear that he’d shoot first and ask questions later when it came to his precious Liv.

The asshole could’ve warned him she was still there. Instead, he’d gotten the shock of his life when he spotted her, professionally dodging drunk fucks in the bar.

Now healed, the woman was beyond fucking perfection. Her porcelain skin looked like it hadn’t seen a drop of sunshine, the polar opposite of all the spray-tanned bitches he was used to. On her, it worked. Jesus Christ, did it ever fucking work. And those bright red lips and smokey eyes just made her look that much more exotic. Gone were the bruises and split lip, the only evidence of the battered woman he’d met weeks ago was a large scar on her shoulder. Even that looked as good as it probably would for a while.

He’d dealt with her barely-covered pussy tempting him as they watched a movie. He’d even resisted staring as her skimpy top shifted to the point of almost exposing her nipples. But then, he’d stupidly decided to be a gentleman and carry her to bed so she wouldn’t wake up sore. Stupidly, because as soon as she was in his arms—one under her back, the other under her silky, smooth ass—he discovered she wasn’t wearing any panties. And she was drenched.

Fucking hell.

If the door to her room had been closed he could’ve pushed it open with his cock, that was how hard the feeling of her juices on his arm got him. Her sleepy moans as she nuzzled his neck made it fucking impossible to think straight. It took every goddamn ounce of self-control to put her down in bed and walk away. All he wanted was rip off that fabric and make her scream his fucking name.

But Snoop would’ve woken up and shot him right in the ass with the .45 he kept under his pillow.

He’d had a conversation with his friend after coming back from laying out the assholes who’d harassed Liv. She’d apparently charmed the man stupid.

According to Snoop, she worked her ass off, was good with his customers, and didn’t have a judgmental bone in her body. She hadn’t opened up at all, but Snoop claimed he’d found himself spilling his guts to her. Torch was floored to hear that he’d not only given her the rundown of MC life, but told her stories she probably had no business hearing as an outsider. But the fact that she’d been more intrigued than put off by it, in turn, intrigued him.

So much so, that he still couldn’t get his damn dick to go down hours later. A cold shower seemed like his only option. Maybe he could freeze his balls into submission.

The sun was just starting to come up when he peeled himself from the couch, undressed, and hopped in the tub, letting a stream of cold water shock his system into shifting gears. He stayed in there for as long as he could take it, knowing that as soon as Liv woke up, he’d be battling his senses all over again. He just didn’t think it would happen before his first cup of coffee.

As he was drying off, she walked right in.

“Oh shit,” she croaked, backing up to the doorway and turning her head away. “Fuck, I’m so sorry. I’m still half asleep.”

Torch froze. She was in a short, silky robe that barely covered that pussy he’d been craving for weeks. With her hair a mess, and makeup smeared around her eyes, his mind drifted to what she’d look like after a wild night of fucking.

There was no question about it, he had to see that.

She put a hand over her eyes and turned her head back to him, separating her ring and index fingers slightly, completely defeating the fucking point. Her obvious attempt at a peek made Torch chuckle. He grabbed his jeans from the floor and pulled them on.

“It’s all good, babe,” he said with a grin. “He’s been dying to meet you.”

She scratched her head and grimaced. “Yeah.. I… Um… Shit… I’ll let you finish—”

“Go ahead, I’m done in here.” He picked up his shirt from the floor and brushed by her, making sure to run his hand along her hip as he passed. He could swear her breath hitched.

He found his way around Snoop’s kitchen and started up a pot of coffee. Impatience got the best of him, so he poured a cup as soon as enough of it had dripped through and headed outside for a smoke. Or five. This was definitely a morning for chain-smoking. The cold shower’s calming effect had worn off the minute she walked in on him.

Twenty minutes later, he heard the sliding glass door open and did his best not to fucking drool as Liv shimmied out with her own cup of coffee, wearing tight ass jeans and tank top that hugged her curves like a goddamn glove.

Jesus Christ.

“Hey,” she chirped.

“Morning, darlin’.” He held up his pack of cigarettes. “Smoke?”

“Yeah, thanks.”

He again put one in his mouth and lit it before passing it to her as she sipped on her coffee. “You like what you saw?”

Liv choked and gagged. “Come again?”

“Gonna play that game, huh?” Torch smirked. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

She shot him a homicidal glare. “You’re a cocky son of a bitch.”

He shrugged. “Been called worse.”

“Yeah, I have no doubt,” she smirked.

“What time you work today?”

“Not until four. Snoop wants to make sure Jenny and some girl he rehired can handle a lunch shift by themselves.”

“You leaving?”

“Soon.”

That wasn’t the answer he wanted, but he hadn’t even planned on seeing her again, so a little time was better than none. “We better make the most of the day then,” he mused.

“And just what did you have in mind?” she asked.

“How about a ride?”

“On your bike?” Her eyes were wide as saucers.

Shit, she looked so fucking sexy, all giddy for something as minor as a spin on his Harley. “Well, I can think of something else I’d like you to ride, but we’ll leave that for later.”

Liv’s face flushed. “Won’t happen,” she spouted.

“Famous last words, babe.”

“Goddamnit, Torch.”

It wasn’t the time to get into a pissing match with her, that would just get him hard again. “Oh relax, woman. You ever been on a motorcycle?”

She shook her head. “Can’t say I have.”

Torch liked that. There was something about being the first one to have her on the back of a bike that turned him on. Like he needed more reasons. “Perfect day to pop that cherry then. Go put on something with long sleeves over that tank, we’re leaving in a minute.”

She smirked. “I’m pretty sure I didn’t say yes.”

Like she had a choice. “You didn’t say no. You scared, buttercup?”

“Fuck you, I’m not scared of shit,” she snapped.

Christ, that sass. He loved it. On raggedy bitches, a dirty mouth was usually just trashy. But this woman? She was the epitome of femininity in every other way. Dirty words spewing from those pretty lips was damn sexy. He could just imagine her cursing up a storm when he finally managed to get her naked and under him. His dick was already excited at the prospect.