Page 15 of Wrecked By Rev

“Why did you really say yes? When I showed up at your garage, why didn’t you tell me to figure it out myself? I don’t think my being Jonah’s sister is the only reason.”

“No. It’s not.”

She waits. I can feel her holding her breath.

“I noticed you,” I finally say. “Before. When Wheels was still around. I noticed you and I—” I stop. Start again. “I was working up to something. And then he died, and you were grieving, and the last thing you needed was some biker making it about him. So I didn’t say anything. And then you were gone, and I told myself to forget about it.”

“But you didn’t.”

“No. I didn’t.”

The silence stretches between us. She sets down her coffee. Turns to face me fully.

“I can’t do this,” she says. “I can’t fall for someone who rides. I already lost one person to that life. I can’t?—”

“I know.”

“Every time I look at your cut, I see Jonah’s funeral. I see the casket. I see?—”

“I know.”

“So why does it feel like this?” Her voice breaks. “Why can’t I stop thinking about you? About that kiss? About?—”

“Angel.”

“I’m scared, Rev. I’m scared of Niall, and I’m scared of how I feel about you, and I don’t know which one terrifies me more.”

I set down my coffee. Close the distance between us on the couch. She doesn’t pull back.

“I’m not going to make you promises I can’t keep,” I say. “I ride. That’s not going to change. I patch into a club that could get me killed any day of the week. I can’t tell you that’s not true, because it is.”

Her eyes are wet. She’s holding herself so tight, like she’ll fall apart if she lets go.

“But I’m here,” I say. “Right now, tonight, I’m here. And if you want me to leave, I’ll leave. If you want me to stay, I’ll stay. But I’m not going to pretend I don’t feel this. I’m done pretending.”

“Rev—”

“Tell me to go. If that’s what you want, tell me to go.”

But she doesn’t tell me to go.

She kisses me.

The first kiss was for show. This one isn’t.

This one is real—desperate and hungry and full of everything we’ve both been holding back. She grabs the front of my shirt and pulls me in, and I go willingly, cupping her face in my hands, angling her head so I can kiss her deeper.

“Rev.” She gasps it against my mouth, and the sound of my name in her voice breaks something loose in my chest.

I pull her into my lap. Her thighs bracket my hips, her hands slide up my chest, and I can feel the heat of her through the thin fabric of her shirt. She rolls her hips against me and I groan into her mouth—she can feel how hard I am already, and she’s grinding against me like she needs the friction as badly as I do.

“Tell me to stop,” I say against her throat. “If you want me to stop, say it now.”

“Don’t stop.” Her fingers yank at the buttons of my shirt. “I need to feel you.”

I strip her shirt over her head and toss it somewhere. Her skin is warm under my hands and I drag my palms down her sides, feeling her shiver, feeling goosebumps rise in the wake of my touch.

“You’re so fucking responsive.” I drag my teeth along her collarbone and she gasps. “Every little thing I do, I can see it hit you.”