Page 23 of Viper's Salvation
The sun sinks lower, painting everything in that magical golden light photographers call "the golden hour." It transforms the world around us, making the ordinary seem enchanted. The lake shimmers like liquid gold, the trees become burnished bronze sculptures, and Viper...
God, Viper in this light is something else entirely. The warm glow softens his sharp features, highlighting the angles of his cheekbones, the straight line of his nose, the fullness of his lips. His dark hair catches the light, revealing hints of auburn I hadn't noticed before. And his eyes, those piercing green eyes, seem to burn with an inner fire against his sun-kissed skin.
I shouldn't be noticing these things. It's ridiculous, honestly. I've just escaped months of captivity, my body is a patchwork of bruises, and I'm sitting here getting wet over a biker I barely know. There must be something wrong with me.
But then again, maybe there's something right with me too. Maybe the fact that I can still feel desire, still appreciate beauty, still want human connection means the Vultures MC didn't break me completely.
I've always been a sexual person, much to the dismay of my more conservative foster parents. Even as a teenager, I understood the power of desire, the comfort of physical connection in a world that offered little comfort otherwise. Kelly used to tease me about my "healthy appetite," as she called it.
And now, after months of nothing but fear and pain, that part of me is awakening again. Like a dormant volcano suddenly remembering it knows how to burn.
"Penny for your thoughts," Viper says, his voice low and rough.
I almost laugh. If he knew what I was thinking, he'd probably run for the hills. Or maybe not. There's something in the way he looks at me sometimes...
"Just appreciating the view," I say, which isn't entirely a lie.
"It is something, isn't it?" He gestures toward the sunset. "Worth staying for."
"Definitely." My eyes remain on him rather than the scenery.
I want to touch him. It's a sudden, overwhelming urge that catches me off guard with its intensity. I want to feel the solid strength of his shoulders, the warmth of his skin, the texture of his hair between my fingers. I want to know if his beard would scratch against my palm or if it's softer than it looks.
"We don't get many moments like this," Viper says, oblivious to my inappropriate thoughts. "Peaceful. Beautiful. Worth remembering."
"No, we don't," I agree, forcing myself to look back at the sunset. The last sliver of sun disappears behind the trees, leaving behind a sky painted in deepening shades of pink and purple. "Thank you for staying with me."
"My pleasure," he says, and something in his tone makes me glance back at him. He's watching me, not the sunset.
I should look away. I should make a joke, break the tension, remind us both why this is a terrible idea. Instead, I lick my lips, a nervous habit I've had since childhood.
His eyes track the movement, darkening slightly. Fuck.
I want to lean forward, to close the distance between us and press my lips to his. To taste him, to feel the scratch of his beard against my skin, to lose myself in something that isn't pain or fear for once.
But I'm frozen, my body refusing to obey my mind's commands. Suddenly, unwelcome memories flood back. Mike's voice hissing threats in my ear, describing in graphic detail what he planned to do to me once Charles was finished with his "lesson." Charles's cold eyes assessing me like merchandise with a defect that needed correcting.
What if I'm wrong about Viper? We're alone now, miles from the clubhouse, from Kelly, from anyone who might help me. If he's not who he seems, if he's hiding darker intentions beneath that thoughtful exterior... it would be my word against his. And who would believe me? The damaged girl with the history of poor judgment against a respected club member?
My hands grip my thighs, fingers digging into the denim of my jeans as I try to control the trembling that's started in my core and is rapidly spreading outward. Sweat trickles down between my breasts despite the cooling evening air.
"Amy? You okay? Are you cold or...?"
I try to answer, to reassure him that I'm fine, but my voice is stuck somewhere in my throat, words refusing to form. Panic rises, that horrible helpless feeling of being trapped in my own body, unable to act, to speak, to run.
God, I'm so fucking useless. One minute I'm wet and wanting him, the next I'm a trembling mess because of a memory. Pathetic.
"Hey," Viper says softly, and then his arms are around me, strong and secure but not confining. He pulls me against his chest, one hand at my back, the other cradling the back of my head. "I've got you. You're safe."
The steady thump of his heartbeat against my ear grounds me. His arms flex around me, tightening just enough to make me feel protected. And the crazy thing is, I'm still turned on.
Even through the panic, I can feel the slick heat between my legs, the way my thighs press together seeking friction, and my panties rubbing against my pussy.
Viper swallows hard, his Adam's apple bobbing. "Better now?"
"Yes," I manage, my voice barely above a whisper. "Thank you. This feels... I don't know. Like a dream. Sitting here with a handsome man watching the sunset."
He chuckles, the sound rumbling through his chest where my head rests. "Handsome, huh? You think so?"
