Page 8 of Raze

“Wait, what’s your name?” Spending this short time with her has made me realize how lonely I’ve been the past few days. My curiosity about this club, and the man who’s apparently been sent here to save it, has distracted me from everything that happened back home and I liked how it felt.

“Polly.” She smiles back at me over her shoulder before letting herself out.

I must have slept for quite a while because suddenly I’m feeling wide awake, and now that my stomach isn’t growling I guess I should find myself something to do.

Raze made it clear that I’m not welcome at the clubhouse but he didn’t say anything about the beach.

I remember Moma taking me and Kane to the beach when we were small. He’d be obsessed with digging the biggest hole, while I’d be fascinated by the ocean. I’d sit and stare out at it for hours but I was only ever brave enough to dip my toes.

I step off the porch and onto the soft sand, wiggling my toes in it and taking a deep breath of salty, sea air. The beach is eerily quiet, the ocean is calm and after I’ve made the journey down to it I actually laugh when the tide touches my toes. Closing my eyes, I lift my head up at the sun to let it warm my face, and for the first time since my life got turned upside down, I let myself relax. Dad was right, there is no safer place for me than here, no Satan’s Reaper would be stupid enough to cross enemy lines, and for that reason, I have to try and convince Raze to let me stay.

It’s past dark when he arrives home and he dumps a pizza box on the table and orders me to eat, in that low, rough voice that makes my stomach flip. He seems in an even worse mood than he was before he left as he reaches up to the shelf by his bed and pulls down a towel. I open the pizza box and pick the mushrooms off my slice as I watch him storm back out the door with the towel and a wash bag tucked under his arm.

A few seconds later I hear the sound of running water coming from the side of the house. I’ve been curious all day as to where the shower is. There’s a door in the far corner of the hut that leads into the bathroom, but there’s only a tiny basin in there. So, I follow the sound, stepping out into the night.

I tip my head around the corner and see Raze, ass-naked, soaking himself up under an outdoor shower. I drop the pizza I’m still holding on to the deck then stand and watch his hands rub over his skin and lather up the soap. I can’t help admiring his tight ass as he runs his fingers through his hair to rinse himself off. All the heat in my body suddenly creeps up my neck and when I notice him start to turn around I quickly dart back into the house and retake my seat at the table. I stare at the pizza box in front of me, trying to get the image of him naked out of my head. That is not what I came here for. It doesn’t matter how tight that ass is, or how broad those shoulders are. I can’t let him distract me from the mess my life is right now.

Raze eventually steps back through the door with the towel hanging low on his hips. I drag my eyes away from the line of hair that trails through his v muscle. He’s got all his clothes balled up in one hand, and my half-eaten slice of pizza in the other.

“You dropped this.” He tosses the pizza at the table, landing it in front of me and my entire face sets on fire with shame.

I somehow keep my eyes focused on the table when he steps behind me and knowing that he’ll be taking off that towel to get dressed makes the temptation to turn around almost impossible to hold off.

I’ve made a big enough fool of myself already and when he comes back to the table with his jeans on and his top half still bare, I fail at not giving my attention to his solid chest and the light coating of hair that covers it. He opens the pizza box, taking himself a slice before he rests back on the couch.

“Had a good day?” I ask, trying my best to sound friendly rather than flustered.

“Coulda been better.” He reaches for the remote and points it at the TV set. I figured it was too old to still work and my theory is proven accurate when it doesn’t turn on. Raze tosses the remote and moves to the refrigerator instead.

“You want one?” he asks, holding up a beer.

“I’m... I’m not old enough to drink.” I admit, chewing on my thumb when I realize how pathetic that sounds.

“Jesus Christ.” He shakes his head and laughs to himself as he slams the refrigerator door shut.

“So just how old are ya?” He furrows his brow once he’s taken a drink.

“Twenty,” I tell him, figuring there’s no point in lying to him, not about my age anyway. “I’ll be twenty-one in a few months,” I add, as if that makes any difference.

“Twenty.” He laughs to himself again and this time it gets right under my skin.

“You find that funny?” I stare back at him, letting him see that I'm not impressed.

“No, I find it fuckin’ dangerous.” His face suddenly turns serious again, his eyes expelling that threat that doesn’t seem to scare me.

“Well, I can promise you that there’s nothing dangerous about me,” I don’t know if that’s a lie or the truth anymore, but right now it seems like my only defense. “Can you say the same?” I tilt my head at him.

“I’m very dangerous, which is why you shouldn’t be here.” He sounds unapologetic.

“And yet here I am, with you, feeling real safe.” I try my best to sound confident, even with my heart thudding in my chest and my stomach tying in knots.

“Well don’t get too used to it, you’re leaving tomorrow,” he reminds me, before taking one of the pillows from his bed and moving back to the couch with it.

“What are you doing?” I ask when he props the pillow against the arm of the couch, lays down, and rests his head on it.

“I’ve had a long-assed day and I’d really like to get some sleep.” He pulls the throw that's draped over the back of the couch over his body.

“I thought I’d be taking the couch.”

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