Page 41 of The Biker and the Loner
“Shit,” he mumbles as he takes it with his thumb and middle finger, seeing as there’s only a stump left where his index finger used to be. He observes it, lifting it to his nose to sniff it. “She’s beautiful, smooth, sexy.” He pats his jacket and gets out a lighter. “Now, let’s see how well she burns.” He points the joint at me. “That’sthe real test.”
Secretly nervous, I bite my lip as I watch him light it up and take a pull. There’s silence for a long moment as he closes his eyes and allows it to seep in.
Then, “Yep, I’m gonna marry your ass.”
My throat relaxes as I exhale a relieved sigh.
Feeling confident now, I smirk at him. “That’ll teach you to doubt me.”
“Hmm.” He takes another pull. “Still not as good as Kendra—”
“I’ll get there,” I promise.
I love Kendra, she’s awesome and all that, but I’d rather he be dependent onmefor his joints rather than her. I jot down a mental note to purchase one of those fancy kits she has, along with some of the secret spices she dusts on the weed before grinding it.
“And she claims she isn’t my woman,” Scratch muses.
I am. I am not. I am not. I am. I am. I am.
Standing, I begin gathering the items to take back inside, but he grabs my wrist and hauls me down onto his lap.
He waves the joint under my nose. “You ever hit it?”
“Once or twice. Enough to know that it’s not my thing.”
“Good.” He exhales smoke through his nostrils. “You’re staying with me tonight.”
“Okay.”
He seems shocked, like he expected a fight from me. But why bother? Iwantto be here with him, and he wants to be here with me.
Stowed in the trunk of my car is a mini suitcase with all the essentials I’ll ever need in case I ever grew the balls one day to say “screw it” and drive away from Denver and never look back. At least twice a month I attempt to do this, but every time I hit the highway, I hear Papà’s weak and sickly voice saying, “Promise me, hija,” which generally results in me turning around and heading home instead. Sometimes angry, sometimes bitterly sad, sometimes morosely depressed.
Looping my arms around Scratch, I rest my head on his shoulder, close my eyes, relax, and just breathe as he smokes, marijuana strong on the air.
We sit like that for a long time. When the joint is half-smoked, he snuffs it out on the cutting board, then kisses the top of my head and wraps his arms tightly around me.
And for the first time in a long while, I feel…safe.
~
I jerk awake in the middle of the night with a palpitating heartbeat and sweaty palms. I had a nightmare, one that swiftly fades the longer I’m awake. There are flashes of a lifeless Kathy in a bathtub and Papà’s face screaming out to me from the shards of a broken mirror.
Willing my heart to calm down, I sweep my hand across my damp forehead.It was just a dream…
Once I’ve taken a few deep breaths to calm down, I become more aware of my surroundings. I’m still at Scratch’s place. He’s currently sprawled on his back beside me, fast asleep.
We’re both fully clothed and on top of the covers. I glance at the digital clock on the nightstand. 3:16 AM.
The last thing I remember is making our way upstairs after we came in from the patio. We’d laid in bed and spoke about random, inconsequential stuff, simply enjoying each other’s presence, until we fell asleep at some point.
Carefully, I ease out of bed and shed my jeans and blouse before climbing back in. I’m wide awake and afraid to go back to sleep for fear of another nightmare, so I curl onto my side and preoccupy myself with watching Scratch sleep instead.
He’s a rough kind of beautiful, and I’ve been obsessed with that face, that nose, that jawline since the day I first laid eyes on him. Now I’m here in his bed and I don’t know what to do with myself. The longer I look at him, the more the aftershocks of my nightmare fades to allow room for something else.Lust. Desire. Heat.A heat that unfurls in my stomach before flowing down between my thighs.
For a brief moment, I close my eyes and think about that night again. It wasn’t the most pleasant experience, but it was still the best I’ve ever felt. Because it washimwho was touching me, kissing me, claiming me…which was a fantasy come true.
He’s bigger now, fiercer, rougher, more determined with his touch, with the way he watches me. More focused and purposeful than before. I both like and fear it.
