Page 21 of Hard as Stone
Her fingers trace patterns on my chest. “Maybe I’m not that hungry anymore.”
Christ. The invitation in her voice nearly breaks my control. I capture her wandering hands in mine before they can tempt me further.
“Poppy.” My voice comes out rougher than intended. “You deserve better than a quick fuck in a parking lot.”
“Such a romantic,” she teases, but I see understanding in her eyes.
“Slide back.” I reluctantly release her hands so I can turn to face forward. “Before I change my mind about being noble.”
She laughs but complies, letting me swing around on the seat. When she wraps her arms around my waist, the press of her soft curves against my back is sweet torture.
“Hold on tight, troublemaker,” I warn as I kick the bike to life. “And don’t think I’ll forget about that steak I owe you.”
Her response is lost to the roar of the engine, but I feel her squeeze tighter as we pull out of the lot. The solid warmth of her against my back makes my chest ache with something that feels dangerously close to guilt.
I’m supposed to be getting close to her for information, figuring out if her family’s working with Summit to tear apart our town. Instead, I’m fighting the urge to take her somewhere private and show her exactly what she does to me. The club needs answers, but all I can think about is the taste of her lips and the way she fits against me like she belongs there.
Maybe I am going soft, playing the gentleman when I should be playing her. But as we roar through the dark streets toward Paradise, I can’t help but glance at her reflection in the rearview mirror—her dark hair wild in the wind, her chin tucked against my shoulder. Her hold on me is snug but unafraid, like she’s daring me to take the curves sharper, to push the bike harder. For all her teasing and that wicked mouth of hers, she trusts me. And fucked if it doesn’t make me want to be a man worthy of that trust.
7
POPPY
The ride back to the trailer park is too fast. Not fast in terms of speed. Too fast because the thrum in my chest—the one that started the second he kissed me—is begging for more time, more speed, morehim.
As we slow down and turn into the main driveway of the Stoneheart ‘Paradise’ Trailer Park, my arms stay wrapped tight around Axel’s waist, and I press my cheek against his back. It’s then I realize that this is the first time in weeks I haven’t felt like my head would implode from everything weighing on me. No permits, no angry Felix breathing down my neck, no passive-aggressive voicemail threats from some bureaucrat named Doug. Just wind in my hair and the solid warmth of my biker between my thighs and the memory of his mouth on mine.
“Pull up over here,” I murmur in Axel’s ear as we approach my family’s trailer. I don’t want my brothers seeing me climb off the back of his bike in this dress.
Axel nods, slowing to a stop a few trailers down from mine. The engine cuts off, leaving us in silence, broken only by the insistent chirping of crickets and the distant sound of a TV blaring through someone’s open window.
As I swing my leg over to dismount, I wobble slightly, my legs feeling like jelly after the ride. Axel’s hand shoots out to steady me, his touch sending another jolt through my system.
“Easy there, troublemaker,” he says, voice low and gravelly. “You good?”
I nod, not trusting my voice. My whole body is humming, every nerve ending lit up from the ride and that kiss. God, that kiss. I can still taste him on my lips, feel the phantom press of his body against mine.
Axel climbs off the bike, his movements fluid and graceful despite his size. He turns to face me, and even in the dim light, I can see the heat still in his eyes.
“You OK to walk?” he asks, his mouth quirking into a smile. “I can give you a piggyback ride the rest of the way if you need it.”
I shake my head with a laugh. “I’m good. Just need a minute for my legs to remember how to work.”
Axel chuckles, the low rumble sending another shiver through me. “Take your time. I’m in no rush.”
We stand there for a moment, the tension between us thick enough to cut with a knife. Part of me wants to throw caution to the wind, to grab him by that leather cut and pull him down for another kiss. But the rational part of my brain—the part that sounds annoyingly like Hugo—is screaming at me to say goodnight and walk away.
“So,” I say, breaking the silence just as a cool breeze rustles through the trees, creating goosebumps on my skin.
“Cold?” He’s already shrugging out of his leather jacket before I can respond.
“A little.”
Axel drapes his jacket over my shoulders, the leather still warm from his body heat. The familiar scent of him envelops me, and I can’t help but burrow deeper into its warmth.
“Better?”
I nod. The jacket is huge on me, the sleeves falling past my fingertips, but it feels like being wrapped in his arms. Safe. Protected. Wanted.
