Page 73 of Throttle

“Yo, brother, you good? I lost you after you took off into the woods.”

“Yeah, I’m alive. Little miss Bonnie over here picked my ass up.” I eye her while she smirks.

“Who?”

“He’s referring to me!” Tequila shouts loud enough for Tank to hear.

He whistles into the phone. “Damn. Got yourself one hell of a woman, man. No wonder you two belong—”

I cut him off. “We’ll meet up at the club, but I want to make sure we’re in the clear first.”

“You bet. Stay safe. The both of you.”

I point toward the isolated cliff that is my special spot. “Pull over up here.” I’ve wanted to bring Tequila here for a while, and I wish it wasn’t under such circumstances.

“Oh, wow. This place is beautiful.” She gawks, putting her beater in park, and she seems… fine. Completely unfazed, she assisted a member of a MC in escaping a shooting.

“Kill the engine,” I demand.

When she's done, I take hold of the base of her neck, bringing her closer to me. She’s so close that a tiny movement forward would put our mouths together. Whether it's her candy perfume, body wash, or any captivating scent, my skin can't help but react. Her parted lips captivate me, but I refrain from adding to the hurt I've caused. “Listen to me, my rose. You are to never do something like this again. You hear me? I don’t care what dangerous shit I get myself into. This is club business. This is part of what we do, and you can’t be involved.”

“But I—”

“You can’t be involved.” With my thumb, I rub circles on her delicate skin.

Each time she swallows, I find myself captivated by the sight of her throat, torn between moving back and yet still holding onto her neck, aware that giving in to temptation is inevitable. I’m already at the top of the list for the biggest asshole ever to her.

She slowly blinks. “I hate when you play hero. It’s not fun for me waiting for the day you might not return.”

My eyes dart between her sad gaze, and my stomach churns. Her words are the precise reason I'll never move beyond being friends. A future holding nothing but misery, pain, and fear.

“Why?” she whispers.

“What?” I’m confused.

She stares at me. “Why don’t you want me? I’m right here. I gave myself to you. Take me, Throttle. And I don’t just mean now.”

A battle rages within as I resist the urge to confess my unparalleled desire for her.

I release her neck and surrender, lowering my head. “Tequila. Understand. I’m not that guy for you.” The words dripping with disdain.

“I don’t believe that. I don’t believe that for one second.”

“Look around us. Five minutes ago, I was shot at. You shouldn't be with a man who is nothing but trouble.”

Witnessing her eyes filling with tears, I realize I can't continue. I can’t keep doing this to her. What the fuck was wrong with me? I refuse to stay in this car any longer because my head is spinning.

I'm on the verge of giving up and pouring my heart out to her. Is it love? How else can I explain the knot in my chest when she's near? To want to reach out and touch her, yet I wouldn’t allow myself to taint her with my sins.

I can’t and I won’t.

But there’s no going back. I’ve tasted her. I’ve felt her. And Christ help me, it has left me absolutely powerless.

It will never be the same.

Her presence is near as she trails behind me, but then she stops. “Throttle. When I agreed to it just being sex. I lied. I wasn’t okay with it. And I’m not blaming you. I told you yes, but it meant the same for you, too.” She steps closer, her presence marking my back. “The way you look at me is not how friends look at each other. Tell me you feel it too. Tell me every time we touch, it’s not paralyzing.” The pleading in her voice and the warmth of her hand laid on my shoulder, cuts me like a knife.

The tranquility of the night envelops us. It too, waiting for a response. But I can’t give her one. I can’t give her the answer she wants, knowing that this would be what she lived for.

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