Page 35 of Property of Thrasher
The ride to the hotel was short. I parked in back, went straight down to the laundry room where the machines roared and hissed.
I pushed the door open without knocking. I knew her shift. I had memorized it yesterday when I couldn’t get her out of my head.
She was there, head bent over a table, folding towels into stacks so neat they looked like they’d been measured. Her hair was pinned up, a few strands curling loose at the nape of her neck.
Her head came up fast when she saw me. She froze for a beat, like she wasn’t sure if she should bolt. I tossed the bag onto the table.
“Change,” I commanded.
Her brow furrowed. “What?”
“Jeans. T-shirt. Socks. Boots.” I tapped the bag. “Back room. Now.”
She could have told me to fuck off. Could have crossed her arms and made a point about how I wasn’t her boss, or her dad and I had a feeling I was old enough to be her dad. But she didn’t. She picked up the bag, glanced at me once, then walked into the back without a word.
My ears keenly listened. The sound of the zipper carried over the hum of the dryers. Fabric slid against fabric. I imagined her stepping out of that plain uniform shirt, the soft skin I’d only gotten a hint of before. My hands curled into fists in my pockets.
When she came back out, the jeans clung to her hips in a way that made me glad I’d guessed right. The black T-shirt was plain but perfect, hugging her just enough. The boots grounded her, gave her weight she hadn’t had in those flat work shoes.
“Perfect,” I complimented. And I meant it.
Her chin dipped, just slightly. I held out my hand. She looked at it for a breath, then slid hers into mine. No hesitation. That trust, obedience, even, that shit hit me low and hard. I led her out to the lot. My bike was waiting, gleaming black and chrome.
“You ever been on one?”
She shook her head.
I handed her a helmet. “Climb on. Arms around me. Hold tight.”
Without hesitation, she put the helmet on as I then passed her a hair tie. “Braid it, otherwise it’s gonna be a tangled mess.”
Again, she followed orders and didn’t even stop to question me about where the hairtie came from. It was my daughter’s, since she was little, I kept hair ties on my bike for the times she wanted to ride. Melody climbed on awkwardly, then shifted into the seat. Her arms circled my waist but stayed loose, leaving a strip of air between us. I didn’t like that, I took each of her hands in mine, yanked just a bit pulling her chest flush against my back.
The engine rumbled to life, deep and steady. She jolted at the first roar, fingers tightening just enough for me to feel it. I eased us out slow through town. Her weight leaned wrong on the first curve, stiff as a damn board.
“Relax,” I called over my shoulder. “I’ve got you.”
It took miles. But slowly, I felt her loosen. Her hands flattened against my stomach. Her knees hugged closer to my hips. By the time we hit the winding back roads, she was leaning into the curves with me, her body following mine like it was natural.
That did something to me.
It wasn’t just trust. It was right. Like she’d been meant to be back there all along, like I’d been missing her weight against me without knowing it.
We rode until the sky bled gold into blue. I took the long way back, stretching every mile just to keep her there.
When we rolled back into the hotel parking lot, I killed the engine but didn’t move right away. Her hands stayed on me longer than they had to. When they fell away, the air felt colder.
She slid off, pulled off the helmet, slid the hair tie off, and shook her hair out. The wind had left color high on her cheeks, her lips parted just slightly. After I dismounted, I took her hand in mine and guided her inside the building. It was late and I was thankful none of the brothers were around so I didn’t get pulled away from her and this moment.
We stood in front of the elevator waiting on the doors to open. “I want you,” she stated moving to stand in front of me. It wasn’t a question.
She stepped in and kissed me first. Her mouth was soft but sure, and it hit me like a match to dry grass. My hands went to her hips, pulling her flush to me, walking her backward away from the elevator and down a short ways toward the side door. Down the hall, into an empty room I knew was clean.
The door shut behind us.
She yanked her T-shirt over her head. My gaze dragged over bare skin I’d been imagining for days. I kissed down her throat, across her collarbone. My hands found the warm curve of her back, slid lower. Lips crashed together, tongues tangling, as she writhed against me wildly, I was slowly losing control of us both.
I pushed her jeans down panties coming with them, and she kicked them free without breaking our kiss. My hand slipped between her thighs. Her breathing was heavy as I slid one finger inside her. She was wet already, and the sound she made went straight through me.
