Page 40 of When We Were Reckless
“Samurai sword wounds?” She laughed softly and blinked back the tears in her eyes. “Really?”
“They make you a badass.”
“You think I’m a badass?” she whispered, her eyes on my mouth, our bodies moving imperceptibly closer.
“Mmhmm.” I released her hands and traced the curve of her jaw with the backs of my fingers. “And one day soon, you’re going to show me your scars.”
“You… you want to see my scars?” She placed her hand over my heart, and I covered it with mine.
I wanted to see more than her scars. I wanted to see all of her. Every inch of skin. Every curve and dip and valley. I wanted to drag my tongue through her soft folds. Taste her sweetness on my lips. Lick the sweet juices of the forbidden fruit.
I wanted to be the one to show her how good a guy could make her feel. I wanted to hear her scream my name when I gave her an orgasm that would rock her fucking world.
Fuck. I shouldn’t want any of this. I shouldn’t even be thinking dirty thoughts about this girl standing in front of me, looking like an angel.
So sweet and young and innocent.
“You’re going to bare your stomach to me. Only me.” I was doing this for her, I told myself.
I held out her helmet, ready to put it on for her, but she took it from my hand and did it herself.
“How do I know I can trust you with something like that?”
“Guess you’ll have to be brave. Take a leap of faith.” I snapped down her visor and straddled my bike, putting my helmet on. Then, kicking up the stand, I started the engine, and it roared to life. Fuck, I loved that sound. “Ready to ride?”
If only she’d ride me.
Jesus Christ.I needed to get this shit out of my head.
In answer, she hopped on behind me and wrapped her arms around my waist.
By some miracle, my body was loose and relaxed on the ride home. It gave me hope. Maybe I’d do better at the track tomorrow. Maybe I’d be able to ride the way I used to.
Chapter Fourteen
Quinn
Declan glaredat the empty bread basket then turned that glare on me. “You missed a few crumbs.”
I offered him a piece of the baguette in my hand. It was only a small piece because I’d eaten the rest. He huffed out a loud breath and checked his phone for the time again.
“Where the fuck is he?” he growled, draining the rest of his drink and slamming the empty glass onto the table. Fittingly, Declan had ordered the Dark & Stormy, a fiery ginger beer cocktail.
“He’s not going to show up, is he?” I took a sip of my sparkling water with a twist, hoping it would stave off my hunger and disappointment.
“He’ll be here,” Mason assured me. “The dinner was his idea. He made the reservation.”
It was a belated graduation dinner, and my dad was already fifteen minutes late. When had he become so unreliable?
The restaurant was long and narrow, dark wood with French posters on the exposed brick walls and jazz music piping from the speakers. I craned my neck, looking past the suits hanging out at the long, glossy wood bar toward the front door.
No sign of Dad.
“Let’s order without him,” Holden said. None of us put up a fight when he flagged down the server who appeared at our table within seconds.
“We’re ready to order,” Mason said, gesturing to me with his hand,Ladies first.
“I’ll have the burger, please,” I told the server, who wore a white tuxedo shirt and black pants. “It comes with fries, right?”
