Torched (28 page)

“Tact’s overrated, babe. Can’t say I’m sorry she’s bad at keeping secrets… You drunk?”

Liv scrunched her nose like she was thinking long and hard about it, but then she just laughed some more and shook her head. “No, I’m just pleasantly relaxed. We passed Dana’s flask around after the last of the cake was gone. I only got two chugs, no worries.”

He wasn’t worried, he was turned the fuck on.

He didn’t know what was going through that unpredictable head of hers, but the way she bit down on her lip reminded him of another moment in time. That last night in Ohio, right before she body-slammed him into a wall and tried to fuck him to death. Oh yes, he liked this look.

“Can you get out of here?” she asked, her voice suddenly a few notches lower than before.

Oh shit, he liked where this was heading. “Whatchya got in mind, baby?”

“I wanna ride,” she said softly.

“You can ride me whenever you want, baby. My place or yours?”

She grinned and shook her head. “No, I want to
ride
. On your bike. Can we hit the road for a bit?”

“You don’t wanna go get your own bike and ride side-by-side? Thought you were all empowered and shit,” he joked.

In truth, he fucking loved that she’d gotten herself a motorcycle, even if he was more than a little worried that she’d kill herself on the damn thing. Especially with it being a sport bike. Not that she didn’t look hotter than fucking Hades on a crotch rocket, but couldn’t she have gotten a damn cruiser? Something
under
a thousand cc’s? “Not sure I approve of that, by the way.”

She looked at him cockeyed. “Huh. Well, I’m not sure why you’d be bitching since I fell in love with riding while on the back of
your
Harley.”

“Just don’t wanna see you get hurt, darlin’. Don’t remember seeing a helmet on that thick head of yours as you rode away from the clubhouse. You gotta wear one from now one, alright?”

“You don’t wear one.”

“That’s diff—” He caught himself before they ended up with a repeat battle of the sexes. “Never mind. Just quit being a brat and promise you’ll wear a fucking helmet. At least a brain bucket.” A half-helmet didn’t exactly offer much protection, but it was better than nothing.

“If it makes you shut up, fine.”

“Good enough for me.”

“So? Are we going or not?”

Impatient little minx. “You got it. Where to?”

“Anywhere. I just wanna feel the wind on my face. As much as I love riding on my own, it would be nice enjoy it without looking out for potholes.”

“Potholes. Right.”

“Don’t make it into something it’s not, Torch,” she groaned.

“What? Just thought you might be tired of straddling that foreign bullshit. Maybe you need to feel a
real
bike and a
real
man between your legs.”

She smacked him. “Fuck you. That foreign bullshit could smoke you.”

“Life’s not a race, darlin’,” he pointed out. “It’s a slow grind.”

She shrugged. “Sometimes life also calls for a speedy getaway. Will you just shut up and lead the way?”

He had her exactly where he wanted her—relaxed and eager to lose control. He could definitely work with that. She could act like she didn’t have ulterior motives, but he fucking knew better.

“Yes, ma’am.” He stood up and helped hoist her to her feet. “But hands above the belt or I might lose control.” He wasn’t even close to kidding.

“I’m sure you’ll keep me safe.”

“Always. You remember that.”

“I will.” She smiled at him so sweetly, he didn’t think he’d be able to make it more than a mile without being tempted to pull over and rip her clothes off. But, she wanted to let loose for a while, and what Liv wanted, Liv would get. Because if the rest of the day went as planned, he’d be on the better end of this deal.

“Let’s ride, beautiful.”

: 17 :

I basked in the raw power of Torch’s Dyna Wide Glide rumbling under me, its sound and vibrations making me wetter by the mile. His earlier dig at my Busa not being a real motorcycle was bullshit, but when it came to him being a real man, I couldn’t really argue.

He’d turned the ride into a game, lulling me into a comfortable groove and then unexpectedly hitting the throttle, forcing my hands to scramble and wrap around him tighter to hold on for dear life. Then the cheeky jerk would look over his shoulder and grin at me like an idiot. By the third time, I’d caught on to his scheme and made sure to dip my fingers
under
his jeans. The bike swerved and I felt a growl reverberating in his gut. As soon as we were balanced again, he reached down and yanked my hand out.

He didn’t try that shit again.

True to Colorado’s bipolar weather patterns, the sky turned from clear blue to a menacing shade of dark gray in less than a half hour as clouds quickly rolled in. By that point, we were too far off the highway to scurry to the clubhouse or my place. I didn’t even know where we were, nor did I care. I was in Harley heaven.

He turned off onto a dirt road. A few minutes later, I felt the first raindrops on my face and held on as he sped up. We pulled up to a gate with a “No Trespassing” sign.

He tapped my thigh. “I need to get off, babe.”

I jumped off the bike so he could dismount and watched as he punched in a combination on the lock. He swung the gate open and we both hopped back on.

We followed a straight driveway lined with trees, until a large, log cabin came into view. It was surrounded by unkempt vegetation, but the home itself was obviously taken care of. The wood looked freshly stained and a wraparound porch gave the place a little charm. Torch parked the bike in a dry spot under an enormous tree in front and I dismounted to take a look around.

“Is this your place?” I asked.

“No one lives here. It’s a safe house,” he replied casually, as if everyone owned one of those. He reached under the third stair leading up to the porch and pulled out a key. “The gate code is 5589 if you ever need to use it. There’s always a key down here.”

I wasn’t sure what to make of that comment. “Why would I need to use it?”

He shrugged. “Wouldn’t know since you won’t tell me shit. Just saying that if you need a safe place, you can come here. It belongs to the club. I’ll leave it at that.”

I appreciated that he wasn’t prying for once. In return, I wouldn’t pry into his need for a safe house either.

I shrugged off my jacket and sat down on a worn picnic table close to the bike, while Torch went inside. He came out with two cans of beer and joined me. From a pocket inside his cut, he pulled out a joint and lit it.

Holding in the hit, he passed it to me and I took a nice, deep drag myself.

“Pace yourself, babe. That’s called Afghan. It’ll knock you on your ass.”

I smirked as I blew out the delicious, thick smoke. “You underestimate me, handsome. Don’t worry, it looks like a slow-moving storm. I’ll be sober as an old church lady by the time we hit the road again.”

My stubborn ass wouldn’t admit it, but the shit really was strong. By the time we finished it, I could barely feel my face. Everything slowed down as I leaned back on my palms and watched the drizzle turn into a downpour. Huge drops of water started pummeling the grass, so hard and fast that it almost looked like hail. Lightening flashed across the sky, a loud crack of thunder following right behind. I could feel the ground rumbling under us.

“Shit, that’s close,” he muttered, sliding off the table. “Let’s go inside before we get fried out here.”

But I was too fucking high and mesmerized by the light show to go inside. Instead, I walked toward the edge of the tree’s dry spot.

I could make out Torch’s voice behind me asking what the hell I was doing, but couldn’t snap out of my trance. Without even thinking about it, I pulled my t-shirt over my head and tossed it aside.

He touched my back and stepped in front of me. “Come on, sweetheart, get inside. You’re high as fuck.”

I
was
high as fuck, but I wasn’t out of my mind. In fact, I was deeper inside my mind than I’d ever been. He may not have realized it, but I was standing on a threshold. Behind me was the dry safety of a cabin where I could go and hide, but in front was the unknown, a chance to break free of my chains at the risk of being electrocuted. It was a chance I had to take, one that was about more than just getting wet.

He reach under my chin, forcing me to look at the face that had haunted my dreams for years. He didn’t say anything, just lightly rubbed circles on my cheek with his thumb and stared into my eyes.

No, into my fucking soul, if I still had one.

I stepped back, unzipped my jeans, and slid them off. My boots and socks went flying next.

“Fuck,” he groaned. “Baby, I don’t know what the fuck’s going on inside that pretty head of yours, but you need to spill it before I sling you over my shoulder and carry your ass inside.”

He didn’t get it. I wasn’t trying to seduce the man, I was trying to free myself. It made sense in my warped head anyway. “I just want to
feel
,” I whispered.

Ignoring the way his brows furrowed with confusion, I stepped around him and out into the rain.

It was an instant assault on my senses—cold drops of water sliding down the surface of my warm skin, slick blades of grass sliding between my toes, a slight rumble reaching up from the ground and shooting up through my entire body. I kept walking, maybe another twenty feet or so, my arms reaching out so that I could feel the rain on my palms.

I closed my eyes and tossed my head back, letting rainwater cascade down my face. It was like drowning in the earth’s tears, blissful and bittersweet. I raised my arms and ran both hands through my drenched hair, relishing in the tingle they left on my scalp.

I opened my eyes in time to see Torch—still by the picnic table—pulling his shirt off. Now it was my turn to freeze. He was even more chiseled than I remembered and new tattoos covered his torso.

I bit down on my lip in an attempt to stay in the moment, watching him like a fucking predator as he stepped out of his own jeans and boots, leaving him in nothing but the sexiest pair of black boxer briefs I’d ever seen.

There was nothing special about them, except the way the fabric tented and stretched over his straining cock. Fucking beautiful.

He looked up at the sky and hesitated, before lurching out from under the tree’s dry shelter.

It only took a few long strides for him to reach me. With nearly superhuman strength, he curled his arm around my waist and yanked my body to his, the sheer force causing my mouth to open and gasp for air. I hadn’t even realized I’d been holding my breath, but as he locked me into a flesh-covered vise, all of my remaining senses roared to life. The feeling of his warm skin pressing on mine—cold as it now was—sent my entire system into overdrive. Whatever haze had remained through my romp in the rain dissipated. I was completely in the moment, every nerve in my body humming in utter turmoil of the best kind.

I looked up at him, reveling in the drops that fell from the tips of his hair onto my face. He reached around my head and brushed all of my soaked hair forward over my shoulder. His gaze fell to my breasts as he gathered it all up in his hand and squeezed the water out over them.

Forget lightening, the electricity cursing through my veins was the real danger.

I stifled a whimper as his hand released my hair and he brushed his palm up my neck and over my jaw.

“Torch—”

He fisted the hair behind my ear and launched an assault on my mouth. The earth literally fucking shook as another round of thunder ripped overhead. But it felt like it was coming from the growl in his chest and the tandem moan in mine, as he squeezed my waist tighter and forced my lips to part with his tongue.

I didn’t hesitate to let him in and savored the way he explored my mouth greedily, before pushing my way into his. A grunt escaped his lips as I raised myself on my toes, reached up, and gripped the back of his neck as tight as his other hand was now gripping my ass.

Savagely, we went at each other, like a pair of pirates trying to suck gold out of each other’s tongues. I could barely breathe, taking only quick and shallow breaths every time he drained all of the air from my lungs and inhaled it into his own.

My nails had to have been cutting into his back as I clung to the muscles rippling beneath them. I forced myself to release my grip, but couldn’t make them leave his skin. So warm, so delicious, I never wanted to stop touching it. Ever.

I slid my hand down his lower back and around to the front, pausing for a split-second before dipping my aching fingers under his boxers.

His body stiffened but his lips kept moving. So, my hand moved too, right to that gloriously thick and hard shaft. I wrapped my fingers around it, eliciting a grunt as I stroked down his memorable length and reached around.

I scraped my nails along the bottom of his balls, causing Torch’s body to jerk and his mouth to finally pull away.

“Jesus, baby,” he choked out, lust dancing across his face. I trailed my hand back up his stomach and to his chest, giving him a chance to catch his breath and me the opportunity to keep touching him. Every ridge, mound, dimple, I wanted to touch it all. Lather, rinse, repeat.