Page 31 of Razor

The women leave, depositing their trays on the trolley, and my gaze lingers on Sunday as she heads out of the room, deep in conversation with Annabel, a sweet girl who is heading home next week.

My chest tightens as I face the possibility that will be Sunday one day. I already hate the idea of that, and yet it will happen. She can’t live here forever, and I am not the man for her. For anyone.

The reasons for being here are gone, so I scrape back my chair.

“I’m heading out.”

I don’t give any further clues as to where and Blade nods, his attention now firmly on his plate.

He is used to my surly ways; he’s just as bad but not as introverted. Sometimes, I wish I were more like him. Lighter, more approachable, but I’m not.

I put that down to our upbringing and the shit that almost destroyed me. But Blade was beside me through all of that and somehow managed to salvage his soul. I wasn’t so lucky.

I head out, palming the keys in my pocket, and as I reach the yard where close on fifty motor cycles wait, I notice Sunday staring around in confusion.

Her gaze zeros in on me as I approach, and the sweet blush to her cheeks and warm smile curls around my heart like a cozy blanket in a snowstorm.

“Hi, Razor.”

She shifts on the spot, a little nervous, and I question her with a small grin. “You lost, darlin’?”

“A little, if I’m honest.”

She sounds nervous. “I asked Annabel if there was a ride to town going, and she told me I’d find one out here.”

She glances around her. “Am I missing something?”

“She means that if you hang around long enough, one of the Reapers will offer you a ride.”

“Oh.”

“It turns out I am your ride, darlin’.”

I wink and she giggles, blushing furiously. “Yes, I suppose you are.”

I jerk my thumb toward my Harley.

“If you don’t mind the bike, hop on.”

“Okay.”

Once again, she tugs that lip through her teeth, and I swear I am hard already.

Tossing her a helmet, I wonder if this is such a good idea, and as she pulls it over her head, I notice her bare arms.

“Wait there.”

She nods, words not needed, and as I head inside, I lift one of the jackets from the peg that we use for our passengers and return, draping it over her shoulders, helping her fasten it securely.

Something shifts inside me when I see Sunday dressed in a Reaper jacket. Her legs slender, the jeans she’s wearing hugging every tight curve. She is waiting patiently for instructions, and I sit astride my bike before gripping her wrist, pulling her behind me, her arms instinctively settling around my waist.

Fuck. This is gonna be an uncomfortable ride for sure with the fucking rock between my legs already begging for release.

I start the engine, the gentle roar throbbing underneath me, and with a sigh, I ease the bike back and prepare for the most torturous ride of my life.

CHAPTER 16

SUNDAY