Page 9 of Kash
“Couldn’t sleep,” Spike chuckles. “Figured I’d check on you. Make sure you’re not, y’know, murdering anyone.”
The boy’s grin widens, but there’s a flicker in his eyes—curiosity, maybe suspicion. He’s heard the rumors, no doubt. Small towns like Cresthaven talk, and that five-grand reward is loud.
“You need to leave,” I say, my voice low, a warning. “Now.”
Spike steps closer, ignoring the edge in my tone.
“Why? You scared I’ll turn you in?” He tilts his head, those green eyes locking onto mine. “Or are you scared ofsomething else?”
The damn skater boy is baiting me, and it’s working.
My blood’s heating, my control slipping. I grab the front of his tank top, yanking him inside and slamming the door shut.
Spike stumbles but catches himself, his board hitting the floor with a clatter.
“You don’t listen, do you?” I growl, pinning him against the wall, my hand still fisted in his shirt. He’s much smaller thanme, lean but strong, and I can feel the heat of his body through the thin fabric.
“Nope,” Spike says, his voice teasing, but there’s a tremor in it, like he’s feeling the same spark I am. “I’ve never been good at following rules.”
I should shove Spike out the door, send him skating back to his little world. But his eyes are on me, bold and unyielding, and my body’s screaming to close the distance.
“You’re gonna regret this,” I mutter, but my hand’s already moving, sliding up to his jaw, my thumb brushing over his lips. His breath hitches, and that’s all it takes.
I kiss him. Hard.
My lips crash against his, all heat and hunger, and Spike responds like he’s been waiting for it. His hands grip my shoulders, pulling me closer, and I taste salt and rebellion on his tongue.
It’s reckless, stupid, but I don’t care.
For the first time in weeks, I’m not thinking about the Vipers or the cops or the price on my head.
Just him.Spike.
The way he moans into my mouth, the way his body arches against mine, all defiance and need.
I break the kiss, my chest heaving, and shove him back against the wall, not hard enough to hurt but enough to make a point.
“You don’t get to call the shots here, boy,” I say, my voice rough with want. The wordboyslips out, natural, and I see the effect it has—his eyes darken, his lips part, a flush creeping up his neck.
Spike likes it.
Fuck, so do I.
“Then tell me what to do,” Spike says, his voice low, challenging. “You’re the big, bad biker, right? Show me who’s boss.”
I growl, my control fraying.
“You want rules? Fine,” I bark. “Rule one: you don’t touch my bike. Rule two: you don’t come here unless I say so. Rule three: you do what I tell you, when I tell you.” I lean in, my lips brushing his ear, feeling him shiver. “And if you break my rules, you’ll find out what happens to skater boys who don’t listen.”
Spike laughs, a soft, reckless sound that makes my blood boil.
“You think you can tame me, Kash?” Spike giggles defiantly. “Good luck.”
I grab his wrists, pinning them above his head, and he doesn’t fight it. His body’s pressed against mine, hard and warm, and I can feel how much he wants this. Wantsme.
“This ain’t a game, Spike,” I say, but my voice betrays me, thick with desire. “You keep pushing, you’re gonna get burned.”
“Then burn me,” Spike whispers, and it’s like a match to gasoline.
