Hatchet revved the engine, a part of himself finding peace as it always did when he was on the back of the motorcycle. To him, his motorcycle was freedom and power all wrapped into one. It took him a long moment to realize that the woman hadn’t followed him. He looked over to see her standing still in the middle of the road, looking at him with hesitation.
“Come on. Get on the bike. Those coyotes sounded pretty hungry.” As soon as he spoke the pack of wild animals howled again.
The woman cast an apprehensive look behind her, and then shot an equally nervous one towards the bike.
“Never ridden on a motorcycle before?” Hatchet asked.
She slowly shook her head no. He cocked his head, just to look at her for a moment, trying to figure her out. Here was a woman who had risked her own safety to go searching for a few cows in the dead of night, who had stared him down with more courage than good sense when he tied her up and dragged her with him. A woman who, just moments ago, had stared him down and demanded that he let her go.
Now she was afraid to ride on the back of a motorcycle.
It was oddly endearing, and what was even odder was the instinct rising up inside him to ease her fears. He didn’t get involved with women. He’d learned the hard way over the years that in the end they only brought him pain and he had a feeling that, if he let his guard down, this little slip of a girl would hurt him worst of all.
But he ignored the warning as he slid off the bike and held out a hand towards her.
“Come on,” he coaxed her gently, a small lop-sided grin drawing up one corner of his mouth. “It won’t bite, sweetheart.” She drew closer and electricity shot through him when she placed her delicate palm against his. “But I will.”
Her eyes flew to his with a sharp breath and he’d bet his bottom dollars that she was blushing. Hatchet slid his thumb across her cheek to see if he could feel that tell-tale heat, but he lost himself in the silk-soft feel of her skin. They stood there for a long moment before another haunting howl from the coyotes broke through the lust-induced haze that had practically turned his world upside down.
Hatchet drew his hand down her body, breathing heavy as he took both her hands in his and led her to the bike.
“We got to get out of here.” He had to swallow his arousal when she took a step closer to him. Her intoxicating perfume invaded his senses. Hatchet didn’t waste any time lifting her up and helping her on small back seat of the bike before sliding into the saddle in front of her.
“Now, riding on a motorcycle is easy. You just have to remember two things.” Hatchet threw a look back over his shoulder. “First, you have to hold on to me, and don’t let go for anything. Second, keep your mouth closed unless you want to pick bugs out of your teeth. Got it?” He waited for her reluctant nod and the feel of her arms wrapping around his waist before revving the engine once more.
It was the sweetest torture as he pulled out on to the road, starting out slow until she could get the hang of it. But with her arms holding onto him so tight he could barely breathe, and the feel of her lush curves pressed against his back, they were damned lucky he didn’t drive them straight into the nearest ditch.
The road was completely deserted, and for that he was grateful. He kept the pace steady and slow, increasing speed gradually but still well under the speed limit. Even then, he could hear her little squeak of fear and feel her arms squeeze him even tighter every time they went faster.
The moon hung low and fat in an inky sky dotted with stars. For a moment, Hatchet had considered bringing her to the Roadburner’s clubhouse. It was closer than his own place but the odds of Mad Dog being there made him quickly change his mind. Mad Dog didn’t like when things didn’t go as planned, and Hatchet was in no mood to try and explain why he’d brought a hostage back with him.
Hell, he couldn’t even explain it to himself.
He tried to figure it out on the ride to his house. Tried to find some reason to the madness.
People complicated things. They always did. And this girl would complicate things worse than normal. He knew that. He’d known that from the moment he saw her on that damned horse, when he couldn’t stop himself from trying to catch her. It was all one big damn mess. And what was worse, he still didn’t know what the hell he was going to do with her.
The longer she stayed with him, the more she saw and the bigger a liability she became. Logically, he knew that. But it didn’t make a lick of difference when he felt her holding him so tight from behind, like she was never going to let go.
Hatchet almost felt a pang of regret when he pulled into the gravel road that led to his place. It was an old farmhouse he’d bought when he first came back from Afghanistan. The house itself had been falling down and nearly beyond repair, but he had fallen in love with the land. It was smack dab in the middle of twenty acres of wooded property. Private. Secluded. He could go there to unwind and get away from the rest of the world. To escape when all he could hear were machine gun fire and mortar blasts.
It had taken him almost five years to renovate the farmhouse. It was the first time in his life he’d had a place to call home, and it was the money he’d earned with the Roadburners that had allowed him to do it. He would always be grateful to Mad Dog for that.
Hatchet cast a quick glance behind him as he slowed in front of the housed. He wasn’t so sure that Mad Dog would be grateful to him for bringing this girl into it. In fact, he would be surprised if the man’s reaction was anything else besides total balls-to-the-wall anger.
Hatchet parked the bike and helped the woman off without a single word. He didn’t know what in the hell to say, but he didn’t let go of her hand as he led her inside the two-story house. In silence, he led her through the green and white kitchen, down the short hallway and into the living room.
He didn’t stop until she was sitting on the overstuffed couch and he remained mute as he pulled another bandana from his back pocket.
“Is this really necessary?” she asked softly, finally breaking the silence as he moved to hold both her hands in one of his while he tried to maneuver the worn square of fabric around her wrists.
Hatchet breathed in deep and immediately regretted it. Damn, something about this girl just made him lose all control—made him feel drunk just being around her…
“Sorry, baby, can’t risk you getting to a phone.” He grunted roughly as he tied the final knot.
“I told you,” she said when he was close enough to feel her breath—warm and soft—against his cheek. “I’m not your baby.”
“Is that so?” His words were just as quiet, but they had an intensity that he couldn’t fight as he lifted one hand and swept it across her cheek and down the side of her face, until he reached her jaw.
His eyes flicked down, drawn to the pout of her lips, soft and pink and wet and just begging for a kiss. Or something much more satisfying. “You could be. If you wanted.”
“Well, I… I want…” She trailed off, her eyelids fluttering closed but there was no hiding the desire that filled them.
She wanted him just as much as he wanted her. He had felt it in the trembling of her body against his on the ride back, the shallow panting breaths brushing the tip of his fingers, and the husky tone in her voice when she spoke.
If there was one thing Hatchet was good at, it was reading other people, and he could read her like an open book from a mile away.
She wanted him. And damned if he wouldn’t be a gentleman and oblige the lady. But he needed to hear her say it first.
“What do you want, sweetheart?” Hatchet whispered the words against her ear. He was close enough to feel the shiver that shook her body.
Satisfaction rolled through him, but he wanted to give her more. A hell of a lot more. He wanted to have her screaming his name as he fucked her into oblivion. He wanted to feel her sweet body tighten around him as she came over and over again, until she was begging him for release.
“Tell me, darlin’. Tell me what you want,” he prompted again.
“I want…” She paused, swallowing hard. When she spoke again, whispering against his cheek, he felt her words more than heard them as her warm breath tickled his skin. “I want you to kiss me.”
Hatchet didn’t say another word as he pulled back just enough to look down at her one last time before slanting his mouth over hers.
It wasn’t a gentle kiss. It wasn’t sweet or tender.
It was rough and dominant, possessive and aggressive, everything he was, and he gave it all to her.
***
Elsie froze. His lips pressed against hers and all she could do was sit there on the couch, her hands still bound, and let the kiss melt over her like hot butter. Shock held her still. Hatchet’s kiss was nothing like any of the tepid touches she’d encountered before. Sure, she’d had a boyfriend for a year in high school. They’d kissed, or so she thought. But from the moment Hatchet’s lips touched hers, Elsie knew that she’d never think of a kiss the same way ever again.
His teeth teased at her lower lip, nipping until she gasped. He took advantage of the moment to flick his tongue into her mouth. Just then, it was as if a switch had been flipped. Her shock melted and suddenly she found herself kissing him back just as hard, just as passionately as he was kissing her.
And she was shocked to discover that she wanted more.
So much more.
His hands swept across her thighs, opening them enough for him to wedge his big body between them. Even through the thick layers of denim separating them, Elsie could feel his arousal. It was hot and hard and big. It startled her for a moment and a thought crossed her lust-hazed mind.
I should tell him the truth. I should tell him that I’m a virgin. I should tell him that I’d never done this before. But his kiss dominated her mouth and she didn’t want to lose that touch—not even for a second.
Her usual sense of caution had gone out the window the moment she decided to get on the back of his motorcycle. Now, she was just running on instinct and pure, white-hot desire.
She wanted him. With a desperation that made her entire body ache.
She needed him. She didn’t know the words to describe what exactly it was she needed, but every time his touch melted over her she felt that need draw even tighter until she felt like she couldn’t breathe.
Warm pleasure pooled heavy and sweet between her thighs and she wondered for a moment if he could feel it when he was pressed so tight against her. Elsie wanted to open her mouth, to say something, anything. To tell him that she’d never done this. To tell him the truth. But before she could speak he was pulling back just enough to grab the hem of his black t-shirt and drag it over his head.
Elsie stared wide-eyed at the impressive muscles that corded across his chest and shoulders, the tight, six-pack abs that flexed as she watched. Both of his arms were completely covered in tattoos, snaking around his shoulders and across his chest as well. The image made her wonder just what other parts of him were inked.
I should say no, a quiet voice said in her mind as she took in his visage. But there was another part of her that was stirring awake.
And that part of her screamed for more.