Page 7 of Harley's Hex
The world outside Savage Hell faded away. They moved together slowly at first, learning the shape of each other, and the rhythm that belonged only to them. His touch was steady, reverent, hers fierce and certain.
It wasn’t about control. It wasn’t about surrendering. It was about release — of every wall they’d both built, every weight they’d carried alone. And when the last light from the neon sign flickered across the floorboards, Harley stopped thinking entirely.
“I think that we should take this upstairs,” Hex said. They had rooms that the club members stayed in when they had a little too much to drink or were just passing through for the night. Tonight, the place was empty, and using one of those rooms wasn’t going to be a problem. The problem for Harley was getting past her own invasive thoughts and just taking what she wanted from Hex.
Harley nodded her agreement, and Hex let her up to the first room on the right. He stood by the window with his shirt half undone and the moonlight tracing the edges of his shoulders. The storm that had raged between them for weeks — all the sharp words, the stubborn stares — had burned down to this moment. It was now or never, and Harley knew that if she didn’t quiet the voices in her head, telling her that this whole idea was a bad one, she’d end up never getting what she wanted from Hex.
Harley closed the door softly behind her, determined to finally take what she wanted from him. “You keep staring out there like the night’s going to give you answers,” she murmured.
Hex turned, his gaze finding hers, dark and steady. “Maybe I’m just waiting for you to make up your mind about whether or not you want this and come over here.” Her pulse skipped a beat. There was no teasing in his tone tonight, no guarded distance. Just raw, open want — and something deeper beneath it.
She took a step closer then another, until she was so close that she could feel the heat radiating off him. “Are you always this confident?” she asked, her voice softer now. She was trembling in ways she didn’t want to admit.
Hex smiled at her—slow, dangerous, magnetic. “Only when, I’m sure. And I’m sure about us, honey.” He reached out, fingers brushing her jaw, tracing down her neck until his palm rested just over her heartbeat. “You’ve been driving me crazy for a damn long time now, Harley.”
Her breath caught. “Right back at you,” she teased. He didn’t respond—just dipped his head to kiss her. It wasn’t a gentle kiss, but one with the kind of hunger that came from nights spent fighting what they both wanted—namely, each other. Her hands found the back of his neck, pulling him closer, the taste of whiskey and want between them.
The world outside blurred until it felt as though they were the only two people left. There was only the sound of their breaths, the rough drag of his thumb along her cheek, the way she melted into him like she’d been waiting for this far longer than she’d ever admit.
When they finally broke apart, foreheads pressed together, both breathless, Harley whispered, “You sure this is a good idea?”
Hex’s laugh was low and rough. “Probably not. But I don’t care.”
She smiled against his skin, heart thundering. “Me neither,” she admitted.
He pulled her closer, and the tension that had simmered between them for months finally broke — not in chaos, but in something fierce, tender, and inevitable. Every touch carried promise. Every breath was a confession that neither of them needed to say aloud.
Hex stripped her bare and had her on the bed in no time, settling between her parted legs, making a meal out of her drenched folds. She wanted to beg him to stop and demand that he keep going, all at once. She couldn’t seem to get enough of his skilled tongue as he ate her pussy, making her come on his mouth as she shamelessly rode his face, crying out his name.
When he stood and tugged off his own clothing, all she could do was watch. Hex wore that same smug smirk that turned her inside out with need. She could tell that he was pretty damn proud of himself for driving her completely over the edge. And when he slid on top of her, filling her with one thrust, she couldn’t help but moan out his name again. God, he was going to be the end of her in a very delicious way.
“Fuck, you feel good,” he groaned as he started to move inside of her. Harley wrapped her arms and legs around his body, not wanting anything between the two of them—not even air. She wanted to consume him and be consumed by him. God, she wanted everything from Hex, and he was giving her just that.
He pulled out and slammed back into her body over and over, and just when she thought she couldn’t take it anymore, she let herself fall once again, calling his name. Hex followed her over, spilling his seed deep inside of her body. And when he collapsed on top of her, all Harley could think was, “Mine.” She knew that it was silly. He wasn’t hers, but she’d do just about anything to make it true. She had fallen for Hex, and now, she was going to have to try to figure out how to go back to normalwith him—not that they ever had a normal relationship. One thing was for sure—she was going to have a hard time keeping her hands to herself as they worked around the bar together.
They lay tangled up together for hours, talking and laughing as the storm outside rattled the windows around them. For the first time in a long time, she felt safe and alive, and she wondered if Hex knew how he made her feel. If he did, would he turn and run the other way, or was he feeling the same about her? She wanted to ask him—to push him for answers, but she didn’t have to. Because when Hex whispered her name like it was a vow that he was making to her, she knew this wasn’t just sex for him either. It was the beginning of something that would change everything—and she kind of liked that. All that remained between them was warmth—skin on skin and the sound of their hearts beating in unison. There was the sound of her name on his lips, and the rest was silence and belonging.
Hex
Hex realized that they had fallen asleep and spent the night at the bar. There was no way that either of them was going out into the storm last night, and by the time it ended, they must have already fallen asleep. He wondered what time it was but couldn’t find his cell phone. The first thing Hex noticed was the silence that surrounded him. There was no clatter from the kitchen yet, no soft hum of Harley moving around the bar. So, he was guessing that it must still be early. He reached for Harley and found the other side of the bed was cold. She wasn’t lying next to him, and that had panic welling up inside of him. Where had she gone so early in the morning?
He sat up fast, noting that the sheets still smelled like her citrus shampoo and something wild he couldn’t name. On the nightstand sat a note, scrawled in her messy handwriting.
I had to run home to feed the cat. See you later — H.
A faint grin tugged at his mouth until he remembered that Harley didn’t have a cat. He read the note again—once, twice, and then his stomach turned. Why had she left, and where had she really gone?
He was on his feet in seconds, jeans half-buttoned, his boots barely tied. The bar downstairs was quiet and cold. The fall air had started settling in, and he shivered. Chairs were still up on the tables, morning light cutting through the haze of dust. Her car was in the parking lot, her keys still sitting in the drawer behind the counter, and a sick feeling consumed him.
That’s when his unease sharpened into panic. “Harley?” His voice echoed through the bar. There was no answer. He tore through the place — the storeroom, the office, and even the walk-in freezer. He found nothing. There was no sign of her—not a sound, no sign she’d been in the bar since last night.
Hex grabbed his phone and called her. His call went straight to voicemail—again and again. “Damn it, Harley,” he growled. A coldness had settled into his chest. He stalked back into the office, flipped on the surveillance feed, and scrubbed through the night’s footage.
The timestamp blinked past 3:12 a.m., and there she was, walking out the front door, alone. She looked relaxed, maybe a bit tired, and was wearing his hoodie. He watched as Harley stopped just outside the door and turned her head like she heard something back in the woods behind the bar.
That’s when he noticed the headlights pulling into the parking lot. A van pulled up to the bar, dark and unmarked. The side door slid open fast, and two men in leather cuts stepped out. He tried to make out the patches on their cuts, but they were just flashing white blobs in the camera’s grainy feed. But he knew who they were. He had seen those patches enough to know that they were trouble. The Dead Rabbits had stopped by in the dead of night—like the cowards that they were, and no one was around to stop them from doing what they did next.
Hex’s stomach dropped as he watched them quickly grab Harley. They were efficient, like they’d done it before. He knew that they had. The Dead Rabbits were notorious for traffickingwomen, and the thought of them taking Harley to do just that with her made him sick. His girl struggled, kicked, and fought like hell. He had no right to feel proud of her for doing that, but he did. They still got her into the van. He watched the video fees as the door slammed shut and the tires squealed out of the parking lot and into the darkness. They were gone, and they took his woman with them, and he slept right through the whole fucking ordeal.
