Page 80 of Hendrix

My ass wasn’t used to being on a bike, so when Hendrix eventually pulled off into a clearing with picnic tables and a couple of food trucks, I breathed a sigh of relief.

Hendrix slowed down and gradually came to a stop before pulling off his helmet and turning to me. “Your ass okay?”

I smirked. “You tell me.”

He laughed. “I could always massage it later for ya.”

“Yeah.” I removed my helmet, placed my hand on his shoulder, and gingerly dismounted, taking some time for my muscles to start working properly again. “I’d never turn a massage down,” I declared, balancing the helmet off the handlebars like I’d seen Freya and the Speed Demons’ women do.

He placed his helmet next to mine, chuckling to himself. “Always loved your body, baby. You’re tiny but still curvy in all the right places. Erica was gorgeous in a toned way, and I loved her strength, but after having you, I realized I missed out on soft and sweet.”

My breath caught in my throat.

Apart from our first night when he told me about her, Hendrix never spoke about his wife. I always assumed it was too painful for him, so I never pushed it. But right then, I found myself growing more curious.

I reached out and cupped his jaw. “Tell me about her.”

For a moment, I thought he’d refuse or at least try to change the subject, but instead, he raised one shoulder in a shrug, like he’d resigned himself to the fact he was about to open up. “Erica was one of the boys. She told a mean joke, could chug a beer with the best of them, and was the least girlie girl you could ever meet. Don’t get me wrong, she was beautiful but natural. She wasn’t into makeup, and she usually wore her hair tied back. She loved the gym, she loved football and boxing, and she loved shooting the shit with the boys.” He grinned. “She was the first girl I met who I felt comfortable with. I wasn’t used to bein’ around women with my mom passing away when I was young. Dad brought his buddies around but not their wives, so I was kinda clueless. Erica was into what I was into.”

I smiled wryly. “The opposite to me then. Typical that you met a hairstylist who loves her shoes and purses.”

“She was the opposite to you, baby,” he agreed. “But that’s not a bad thing. I was never looking for a replacement for her. Erica was one of a kind and I loved her, but we were young when we married and did it on a whim. We were in different units and hardly spent any quality time together. Sometimes, I wonder if it would’ve lasted if we ever had to actually live as husband and wife. I’m selfish now, but back then, all I cared about were my missions. Erica was the same way, so it worked well for both of us. But sooner or later, one of us would’ve had to take a step back from our military career if we wanted our marriage to work, and that would’ve been a big stumbling block for her as well as me.”

“I’m glad you had her,” I whispered. “I’m glad you had that.”

He smiled sadly. “Yeah. Me too.”

We stood there staring at each other for a few seconds, Hendrix caught in his memories of the past, and me caught up in Hendrix.

“You want tacos or not?” he asked, ducking his chin.

I almost groaned out loud at the thought. “More than anything in the world.”

Hendrix’s hand caught mine and he swung his thick thigh over the seat to dismount. “How many can you manage?” he asked, nodding toward the truck.

“I’ll start with two,” I decided. “See how I go.”

“Love a girl who eats,” he muttered, throwing his arm across my shoulders and walking me toward the wooden picnic table and benches set up a few feet away from the truck. “Always wondered how you stayed so small.” He sat me down on the bench, stooped down to drop a kiss on my forehead, and then sauntered toward the truck to place our order.

I watched his ass, all high and snug in his perfectly fitted Levi’s, and my thighs clenched with need. It was weird, but since I’d been pregnant, I’d lost my libido entirely. I hadn’t had sex with Antoni for months. I blamed it on pregnancy hormones, but really, once I began to see his controlling, narcissistic ways, I started feeling icky about him.

There was no ick factor with Hendrix. In fact, he was the sexiest man I’d ever laid eyes on. If anyone was going to end my sex drought, I hoped it would be him, but at the same time, I didn’t want to rush into anything physical. I agreed with what Freya said—I owed it to both of us to get to know the man he’d become while we’d been apart—but my husband’s body wasn’t cold yet. Sleeping with Hendrix wouldn’t just be inappropriate but also the wrong thing for both of us, and I’d already made a pact with myself that I was all out of bad decisions.

In no time, Hendrix was back, carrying a cardboard tray filled with wrapped tacos and two bottles of water. He placed the tray down and sat beside me on the bench, twisting the top off one of the bottles and putting it on the table in front of me.

I murmured my thanks while simultaneously unwrapping my first taco. I was immediately hit by the smell of warm spices and cheese. Taking a big bite, I groaned out loud, my eyes rolling in ecstasy as I began to chew while savoring the taste I’d been craving for days.

Hendrix’s eyes darkened on me. “You trying to give me a coronary, woman?” he grumbled, shifting on his side of the bench.

“I’m sorry,” I replied through my mouthful of food. “It’s just so fucking good.”

He took a bite of his taco and groaned, just like I had seconds before.

I burst out laughing at his blissful expression. “Good, huh?”

“Only thing that tastes better is you,” he muttered, taking another bite and throwing me a sidelong glance. “Always loved the way you taste.”

“Yeah.” I held the water bottle to my lips and took a delicate swig. “You always said that.”

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