Page 103 of Atlas
“It’s who I want to be for you.”
“But that’s just it,” she says, gently placing a hand against my cheek. “I need you to be yourself, Atlas. How can I decide if we’ll ever work, when you’re not being true to yourself?”
I lean into her touch without thinking, eyes locked on hers. There’s something raw in her voice, something that cuts through all the noise I’ve been carrying around.
“I am being myself,” I say quietly. “This,” I gesture around us, to the blanket, the book, the quiet space I carved out just for her, “this isn’t some performance, Rue. It’s not pretend.”
She looks down, fingers sliding away from my cheek.
“I know I don’t fit your idea of me. Hell, I probably don’t fit anyone’s idea of how a biker’s supposed to act. But you think I haven’t always craved this too? Something soft. Something quiet. Someone who sees past the leather and noise.”
She meets my gaze again, slower this time, and I reach for her hand, threading our fingers together.
“Don’t mistake what I do for who I am. I can be rough. I can be violent when I have to be. But I can also sit in silence with a woman who makes me feel like I’ve finally come home.” I squeeze her hand. “This is me. You’re not changing me, Rue. You’re just giving me the space to be the parts of myself I never thought I was allowed to be.”
Her eyes shimmer like she’s trying to blink back whatever she’s feeling.
Then, softer, almost like she’s testing the weight of it: “So, this isn’t about trying to win me back?”
I smirk, brushing my thumb over her knuckles. “Of course, it is. I’d tear down the damn world if it meant earning a secondchance with you. But I’m not pretending to be someone else to do it. I’m showing you all of me, even the parts I keep buried.”
Rue
His words do something to my insides, and I’m hit with that nervous excitement I always get when I think of Atlas and the way he gets under my skin. I shift, placing my hands on his shoulders before throwing my leg over him so we’re facing one another. “So, if I agreed to give this a second shot . . .” I pause, enjoying the glimmer of hope I see in his eyes. “What do you envision our future will look like?”
His hands cup my backside, tugging me farther up his lap. “Peaceful,” he says, brushing his nose against mine. “Real,” he adds, his eyes staring deeply into my own. “Ours.”
I want to believe him, everything in me wants exactly what he’s offering, but there’s a small part of me that still can’t bring myself to trust him.
I lower my forehead to his, closing my eyes like it might steady the thud of my heart.
“You say all the right things,” I whisper, “and I want to fall into them, into you. But what if you break me again?”
His hands still on my hips, the only movement between us now is the slow, shared rhythm of our breath. I hate that he doesn’t rush to answer. Hate it and love it. Because it means he’s thinking, not just saying what I want to hear.
“I can’t promise I won’t mess up,” he says eventually, his voice gravel soft. “But I’ll never lie to you. Never betray you. I’ll spend every day showing you you’re it for me. I’ve never wanted anything the way I want this . . .us.”
My throat tightens. The version of me that used to be so cautious wants to back away, wants to protect herself. But the other version, the one he’s coaxing out of hiding with every soft look and small gesture, leans in, brushing my lips against his.
His breath hitches, and then he tilts his chin just enough for our mouths to slot together in the softest way—not desperate, not rushed, just . . . sure.
And for a second, I let myself believe that maybe, just maybe, this could work.
When we finally pull apart, I rest my hand over his heart, steady and strong beneath my palm.
“I need to go slow,” I murmur.
“You set the pace,” he says. “I’ll be right here.”
I lay my cheek to his chest, enjoying his warmth, when the sound of boots scuffing gravel jolts me upright.
Atlas goes still beneath me.
We both turn at the same time.
Eight men stand at the edge of the clearing.
Uninvited. Unsmiling. Unfamiliar. My pulse spikes instantly, instincts screaming.
