his thigh rubbing against mine as he scoots closer to me and puts his arm around my shoulders.
“That’s better,” he says softly.
“Yes, it is,” I say before I can stop myself.
“Actress, huh?” He looks at me in a new way, narrowing his eyes, tilting his head, and evaluating me in a fresh light. “You ever acted before?”
“In high school plays,” I say with a shrug. “It’s not much, but I figure everyone has to start somewhere.”
He smiles, the joy in his face so dazzling it’s like the sun just came up out of nowhere. How can someone so big and dangerous, so scary-looking and brutal also have this softer, warmer side?
People are so complicated.
“Same here,” he says, reaching up to stroke my cheek. “I have a video series on YouTube. I’m making a portfolio to show my stunts, and then I hope someone at a studio will see and hire me.” He frowns. “But first, I have to get out of Atlas.”
“What do you mean?” I’m finding it hard to concentrate, because all my attention is on the points of contact where he’s touching me.
“You don’t just leave,” he says in a flat voice. “You can’t just take off from a motorcycle club. They don’t let you.”
“It’s like a gang?” I ask.
“Kind of. It’s really stupid and hard, and sometimes they come after you and kill you.”
“What?” Pure fear shoots through me like electricity. “If you try to leave the Atlas Club someone will hunt you down and kill you?”
“Yup.”
I think of Frenchie, of how evil he seems. Completely out of control. The kind of psycho who would take pleasure in hunting down Chase and killing him.
“Who? Who would want to do that?”
Chase reaches down and finds a stone on the ground. He picks it up and tosses it into the dark night. It disappears as if it was never there in the first place.
“My dad,” he says, so quietly I barely hear him.
“Your own dad would try to kill you?” I ask, incredulous.
“Not try. He’d do it. When Galt Halloway sets his sights on something, he gets it. And if I try to pursue my dream and leave the club to become a stuntman, he’ll come after me.” Chase shakes his head. “It’s a Halloway trait. We don’t let go of the things we want. Ever.” Intense eyes meet mine and I know exactly what he’s saying as he leans in closer.
His kiss cements it, a sweet intertwining of tongues that says so much. My hands cling to his sandy waves and my cheek rasps against his beard. It tickles me as I sigh with pleasure. He is thorough, giving so much more than he takes, and when we pull away from each other, breathless, we touch foreheads and pant, trying to maintain control.
I don’t like maintaining control anymore, though.
My hand finds his muscled thigh, tight and strong under his frayed jeans. I stroke it, then move in long brushes, getting closer and closer to the next place I want to explore.
Chase makes me want to learn so much more about the world, starting with his body.
In the distance, I hear a car’s engine. Chase’s head shifts just an inch to the right, ear cocked. He hears it, too.
“What time is it?” he asks.
“I don’t know.”
“Bet it’s your stepdad, coming home from the bar.” He stands, pulling me up. “Listen, Allie. You want what I want. We both want to get away from these lives other people picked out for us. My dad keeps screaming at me to stay away from you, but I can’t.” He frowns, holding my hands in both of his, eyes like deep pools of quiet sunshine. “I won’t.”
“You shouldn’t,” I agree, standing on tiptoes for a final kiss. He reaches for the nape of my neck and we go into this place where it’s only me and Chase, just our bodies and souls, and the rest of the world fades.
The engine gets louder, but still far enough away that it’s not a crisis. Yet.
Chase pulls back and looks in the direction of the engine. “Damn. I gotta go. No use in creating more trouble for you.” I wish I could
Emily White
Dara Girard
Geeta Kakade
Dianne Harman
John Erickson
Marie Harte
S.P. Cervantes
Frank Brady
Dorie Graham
Carolyn Brown