Page 59 of Moto
“No. You’re not.” I put my hands on his chest, my heartbeat elevating.
“Don’t fight me, Kayla.”
“I’m done with both of you,” I spit.
“No, you’re not. You’re just beginning.” He leans in, and I freeze.
“Dev, this isn’t right. I don’t want to ping-pong between the two of you.”
“You don’t have to.” He’s so close; I can feel his breath fan across my cheek.
“How can I not?” I swallow the thick ball of emotion caught in my throat.
“Kiss me and find out.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“I hate him.” I vent.
“I know you do. But I’m here now.”
There are no words after that, just an explosive mingling of tongues and a cocktail of confusion.
I’m so weak. Five minutes ago, I was fuming. Now, I’m crumbling into Dev’s arms.
I don’t know how long we kiss—minutes, hours, days possibly. The only thing I’m sure of is that I never want him to pull away. As much as I’m damning myself, the allure of burning in hell has never been so rapturous.
The thunderous sound of a street bike careening into the driveway rips us apart.
Hell has no fury like a racer scorned, I guess, because Reese is furious. His eyes are an incinerating blue as he approaches us.
“What the fuck?” he snarls, as I push away from Dev. This is the most fucked-up situation ever. I’m still mad at Reese for what he did, yet I feel tremendous guilt for making out with his brother a fraction of a second later. I need to be institutionalized.
“Don’t.” I step away from both of them, making an escape toward my front door.
“Youdon’t,” Reese sneers as they both follow me. I try to slam the door in their faces, but Reese strong-arms his way in.
“Get out,” I hiss.
“Not gonna happen.” Reese contends as the two men overtake my tiny entryway. The small space now crammed with bodies. “You’re overreacting.”
“I’m not overreacting! You can’t just pass me around to all your biker buddies and think it’s okay! I’m not a fucking wrist watch you can just throw into the pot!”
“Kayla, do you honestly think I would’ve put you up if I knew I couldn’t win? That I would let anyone else touch what belongs to us?” Reese crowds me into a corner.
“Us?” I squeak. Wait, what?
“Yes.Us. Mine and Dev’s.” He enunciates the words. “You. Are. Ours.”
There’s that word again.Ours.
“I don’t understand.”
“Baby, I think you do. I think you’ve always known where we would end up.” Reese cages me in with his arms.
Dev materializes over Reese’s shoulder, and I internally hyperventilate. I don’t know who to look at first as my gaze compulsively darts between the two of them. Two, beautiful, roughneck men, who both look like they want to have me for breakfast, lunch, and dinner.
