Page 58 of Red My Lips

“Yes, you are. You can be reckless with anyone else’s life but your own.” His eyes meet mine with an expression that dares me to challenge him. “Besides, I’m going to be messing up your makeup every chance I get.” He leans down to capture my lips in a hot kiss to prove his point.

When he pulls back, he runs his tongue over his bottom lip to lick off the lipgloss that’s transferred, using the pad of his thumb to swipe a smudge under my bottom lip. He grins down at me, looking tempted to kiss me again. Instead, his arms raise and the helmet is being fitted over my head.

The padding forms to my head like it was made for me, and the weight of the sturdy shell is satisfying against my skull. My eyes meet Gage’s through the open-face shield as he fastens the helmet in place and tests it with a good tug. Once satisfied, he pauses to look at me, his head tilting as he smiles.

“I’ve never been more turned on by a helmet in my life,” he groans.

“I would hope not.” I raise my brows in expectation. “Now, take me on a ride before I don’t want it anymore.”

Gage smirks as he slides on his own helmet and climbs onto his black motorcycle. When he reaches out a tattooed hand to me, a wave of attraction hits me hard.

Damn, he’s so hot it’s ungodly.

Climbing onto the machine behind him, he pulls my arms tightly around his waist until I’m fully pressed against his back. Before he turns on the bike, he addresses me over his shoulder. “Don’t lie to yourself, Menace. You’ll always want this.”

With that, he revs the bike to life—the engine roaring and rumbling powerfully beneath us. Reaching up to snap down his face shield, I do the same, and we’re pulling out of the driveway and racing through traffic.

The summer air feels so freeing as it whips around us. Every rev of the powerful engine beneath me vibrates through my core as it carries us through the city toward the suburbs. The cityscape dissolves into open spaces and bigger skies as Gage takes us along the water. The world races past us, and I hold on for dear life.

Sweet freedom.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Jill

We pull up to the bar, and Gage lines up his motorcycle in a row of other big custom bikes of all different shapes and colors. Gage stands to keep the bike steady while I climb off, then he’s resting the machine on the kickstand and getting off to stand in front of me.

“The Halfway House? Doesn’t that defeat the whole purpose of a bar?” I ask, looking at the bar as Gage unbuckles my helmet from under my chin. When he lifts it off my head, I can see the damage that’s been done to my hair in the reflection of his helmet. His strong tattooed fingers gently fix my part and smooth down my flyaways without me needing to ask.

“We’re halfway between two towns. They thought they were being clever,” he explains.

Gage pulls off his own helmet and I reach for my purse in the side bag on the bike. Pulling out my lipgloss to reapply, Gage stops me to lean in and steal a bone-melting kiss before my lip product is in the way. I lean into him, letting our lips linger for several long seconds. When I pull back, I use a compact mirror and swipe some black cherry lipgloss across my lips. Gage was smart enough to avoid this stuff, the plumping effect feels like cooling pins and needles on my skin. It’s slightly painful but effective.

Beauty is pain.

“You’re so beautiful, it’s crazy, ” Gage says, making me smile. Taking my hand in his to intertwine our fingers, he leads me towards the side of the building. “The Chained Saints clubhouse is around back.”

The aroma of meat grilling that fills the air is heavenly as we walk through a side gate into a courtyard. Dwayne stands at a massive grill covered in different cuts of seasoned meats, flipping and seasoning. Between the look on his face and the apron around his neck that reads, ‘Your opinion wasn’t in my recipe,’ I know he means business.

The clubhouse looks like a large converted garage, with the entire back wall made up of rolling doors that open up to the courtyard full of people. Just inside, I can see a bar and several couches. The entire back interior wall is made up of a mural of the Chained Saints logo of angel wings wrapped in metal chains and barbed wire.

Big, burly men in leather are everywhere, with gorgeous women sprinkled in here and there. I recognize a few faces from Gage’s tattoo shop, but most of the bikers are complete strangers.

Except one face that looks ridiculously similar to the man next to me. I mean, it seriously could have been stolen right off Gage’s head. He approaches with his arms out like he’s looking for a hug.

“Gage!” The deep voice calls. “You finally made it, I’m touched. I was beginning to think you were avoiding us.”

Gage reaches out to give his doppelganger a one-armed man hug.

“You’re so dramatic. I saw you a few weeks ago,” Gage argues, drawing me back into his side.

“Connie said you were trying to keep her all to yourself,” he says, looking at me. “Hi, I’m Gage’s brother Rio.”

Standing side by side, Rio and Gage are living proof of the power of genetics. Both are tall—though Rio is about an inch taller—with muscular builds, dark hair, and dark eyes. Even their mannerisms are mirrored in each other as Rio smirks at me. The biggest difference is in the ink they chose to cover their body. While every visible inch of Gage is covered all the way up to his sharp jawline, Rio only has a throat tattoo and one full sleeve on his left arm that extends down the back of his hand.

“You two could be twins,” I inform them. Though I doubt it’s the first time they’ve heard it.

“Fraternal maybe,” Rio snorts. “I’m much better looking. It’s a shame he found you first, you got stuck with this ugly fucker.”

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