Page 47 of Rocky Top

The ride home felt different. Cold, even with his body pressed close. I didn’t lean in this time. Didn’t rest my cheek against his back. Just stared out into the blur of headlights and shadows, trying not to feel like a girl who’d just been rejected on the side of a mountain.

When we got to my place, he walked me to the door like always. Said goodnight like always. Kissed my cheek like we hadn’t just made out like sinners under a Sunday sky.

“You okay?” I asked as he backed down my steps.

“Yeah, Birdie,” he said, voice gruff. “Got to be up early.”

And then he left.

I stood there in my porch light, heart twisting in ways I couldn’t explain.

If I didn’t know better, I’d say he was scared. Just like Eliza had said.

Of me.

Of us.

But what kind of man like Rocky got scared of a girl like me?

I went inside and kicked off my boots, heart still thudding, mind racing.

Maybe there was something wrong with me.

I never thought I’d be one to complain about a guy taking things slow as I spent another night alone. Part of me understood, Rocky saying he had to be up early. He worked almost an hour away. And I was thankful the biker had a good job he wanted to keep. But part of me was restless.

I stared at the drawer for thirty minutes before I decided to open it. It was better than redownloading Tinder. I was saving myself for the biker. My fingers wrapped around the egg-shaped device. Even though I lived alone, I discreetly wrapped it in my towel and took it to the bathroom and locked the door.

Sinking deep in the hot water, the vibration on my clit, I thought of Rocky. The heat that rolled off of his tattooed muscles. The big bulge in his jeans. The taste of his reckless kiss. My juices on his tongue. The way his fingers felt as he took control of me. The way he’d made me feel. Wild. Fuck. I wanted the real thing.

Needless to say, I found myself back at the Wild Dog any chance I could get.

“Come here,” Rocky growled low, hand on my lower back when I stepped into the clubhouse. His touch was warm, protective. Like I belonged.

I smiled, a little shy, a little smug. “I could get used to this.”

But no sooner had I settled onto a barstool and ordered a sweet tea, because I needed to pace myself around these bikers and their moonshine, than the damn air changed.

And by changed, I meant it dropped about ten degrees as the door swung open and a woman stepped in like she owned the place.

She towered over me with long legs poured into tight denim, black boots that had seen a fight or five, and hair the color of spilled ink. Not messy like mine when I went riding. This was intentional teasing that she unfortunately pulled off too well. Eyes dark as secrets, and lips painted cherry red, striking wasn’t the word.

She walked like she knew every man in the room had once begged to unzip her dress. And I bet they did, a body like hers.

And then her eyes locked on Rocky.

I felt his body rigid beside me. That told me all I needed to know.

“Well, shit,” she purred, voice venom. “Didn’t take long for you to replace me, huh, Top?”

Top?

The pet name landed like a slap. The room went real quiet real fast.

“Delilah,” Rocky said flatly, standing up from his stool like she was a threat, not a memory.

Delilah. Of course. The ex.

I stayed seated, back straight, smile polite, but my hackles were up.

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