Page 23 of Her Obsessed Biker
Unlike the man I used to think was my father…
My stomach knots with apprehension at the thought of him, fingers curling around the edge of the counter. I shouldn’t think about him. Not now.
Rock turns toward me with two mugs in hand, his eyes softening as they meet mine. He steps between my knees as he hands me a mug. Our fingers brush, and the look in his eyes turns molten again.
“You good?” he asks.
I nod. “Yeah…I’m fine.”
But he doesn’t move, his eyes boring into mine like he can see directly into my soul. He drops a hand to my thigh, his fingers tightening just slightly, the warmth of them seeping through my skin like a balm I didn’t know I needed.
“You’re not fine,” he says. It’s not a question.
I suck in a breath, eyes darting away from his. “I don’t…it’s nothing serious.”
“Tell me.” His voice is soft, but there’s no mistaking the command behind it.
I swallow hard, my hands curling around the mug like I can anchor myself to the heat.
“I was just thinking about my stepfather…” The words feel thick in my throat.
Rock angles his head, his eyes searching my face. “Do you miss him?”
“Of course not,” I say with a humorless laugh. “He…he wasn’t good to me.”
Rock doesn’t speak. He just waits for me to continue.
“He never hit me, not with fists. But his words?” I shake my head. “He found fault in everything I did, and stopped me from having friends or even much of a social life. Swimming was my escape, but he took that away from me too. He said he was “protecting” me, but after Mom died, it got worse. He started to drink heavily. He would throw things and call me names. I only put up with it because I thought he was my father, until he revealed that he wasn’t. It wasn’t hard for me to leave after that.”
I don’t realize I’m shaking until Rock sets his mug aside and pulls me closer, wrapping his arms around my waist.
“You know…he said I’d never survive without him, and I believed him,” I whisper. “It took everything in me to run. I didn’t know what I was doing. I still don’t. I just…I needed to get away. I was afraid he’d come after me. Part of me is still scared.”
Rock’s face turns to stone.
“Give me a name,” he growls. “I swear to God, Piper, if that bastard ever shows his face in Jackson Ridge, he’s dead. I don’t care who he is or what strings he pulls. I’ll put him in the goddamn ground.”
I shudder at the conviction in his voice, but it’s not fear I feel. It’s something deeper. Something warm and fierce and terrifying.
Because I believe him. I know I’m safe with him.
His hand cradles the back of my neck as he leans in close, his breath brushing the shell of my ear. “You’re safe now, little kitty.”
That undoes me.
Something in my chest cracks wide open. I slide my arms around his neck and press my lips to his, soft and slow, my own need rising like a tide. He kisses me back immediately, mouth hot and possessive, like he needs me just as badly. Like he’ll tear the world apart to keep me close. Butterflies erupt in my stomach, a flutter of wings too fast to count.
His hand grips my thigh and pulls me closer against him, and my body hums, ready, wanting.
And then…his phone starts to ring.
He groans into my mouth, pulling back just enough to mutter a low curse under his breath. I lean my forehead against his chest as he reaches for his phone, the moment still pulsing between us.
His entire expression shifts when he sees the caller ID, and he reverts back to the Rock I met at the bar. Serious. Cold. Focused.
“Give me a minute,” he mutters, stepping away and turning his back as he takes the call.
I stay on the counter, watching the muscles in his shoulders tense with every clipped word he speaks. His voice drops, too quiet to catch, but the tone is unmistakable. It must be club business.
