Page 45 of Torment

He rushed out of the office and down the hall, knowing all too well why Scarlet wanted to see the motorcycles.

What the fuck was Riggs thinking leaving her alone in a garage full of wheels? Fucking soldier boy was as stupid as he was ugly.

It took him about thirty seconds to find the garage. It was almost like he had an inner map to wherever the fuck Scarlet was.

Google Maps could kiss his ass.

Just as he walked through the garage door, he balked.

“Fuck me,” he muttered to himself as he stared at all the motorcycles and cars in front of him. What was this? The fucking Bloomindales of cars and motorcycles?

And then he spotted dark hair with red streaks all the way at the back of the garage. He would have to sprint like a damn Kenyan if he was going to get to her before she could make a run for it—or a ride for it.

“Scarlet,” he called out. “Don’t even fucking think about it.”

Her head shot up and she looked in his direction. “Ace?”

Hunter rushed down the aisle. “If you’re thinking of doing what I know you’re about to do, you’d better think twice.”

“Would you relax? I’m just looking around.”

Hunter stopped right in front of her and the red Ducati she was admiring. He grabbed her elbow. “Like hell you are.”

“Oh my God. I’m not stupid, you know.”

“Oh, I know you’re not stupid. But you are reckless.”

Scarlet jerked her arm free. “The only reckless thing I’ve done was allowing myself to think that two fucked-up people like us would actually be able to survive together.”

She straightened like she was trying to prove he wasn’t intimidating her. But he could see it in her eyes. He could always see it in her eyes whenever they got close. It was like those blue sapphires were screaming at him, telling him everything she couldn’t. And right then they were telling him that she was intimidated by him—and shelikedit.

Hunter leaned slightly forward, his gaze never leaving hers. “Then I guess that makes us both reckless.”

She moved her lips closer to his and he wasn’t sure if he was about to kiss her or if she was about to kiss him. He just hoped like hell someone was about to kiss the other one.

Just as her lips lightly brushed against his, sending what felt like a jolt of electricity down his spine, he readied himself to devour her mouth. He was so fucking hungry for her taste, ready to take from her what he needed so badly. But then she paused and he felt her hands brush against his stomach, taking his shirt in her hand. Her touch felt euphoric and deadly at the same damn time, burning his skin yet making him feel more alive than ever.

Slowly she lifted his shirt, and traced her finger gently along the tattoo just above his pants. Just that one subtle touch of her finger against his skin was enough to provoke the animal in him, creating a lust of apocalyptic proportions that raged inside his loins. God, he wanted this woman.

“Scar—”

“Regret,” she said before pulling her hand away, leaving burning flesh behind.

He watched with hungry eyes as she reached for her own shirt, pulling it up and giving him a glimpse of the body he had tasted, and needed to taste again, and again, and again. The sight of her skin fueled his most carnal urges—his need to be one with her while he fucked her until her entire body would start shaking.

She grabbed his hand and placed it over the tattoo on her side. A groan escaped him as the warmth of her skin seeped through to his very fucking soul.

“Torment,” she whispered, allowing his finger to trace across the black ink that marked her body. It was one of those pivotal moments shared between two people, solidifying a connection that went soul deep. The only difference was their connection had a slim chance of surviving all the brokenness they carried around inside them.

She removed her hand from his, but he didn’t take his hand away from her side. Instead, he flattened his palm against her skin, staring at the ink as he gave a tiny step forward, wanting to close the gap between them—physically and emotionally.

“You see, Ace.” She made him look at her—into the eyes that would soon be his undoing. “We’re just too fucked-up for each other.”

Gently she took his hand in hers and pulled it away from her side. She leaned closer, placing a soft kiss just below his ear before she whispered, “Two broken souls can’t make a whole.”

And then she walked away.

Jesus Christ.Hunter placed his hands on the Ducati, letting his head hang down, trying to calm the raging thoughts inside his head. The vice his body was currently in was the worst thing he had ever felt. Wanting her, needing her, yet not being able to have her. It was torture.

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