Page 35 of The Chase

“I’m not having us driving all day and most of the night again. How’s that? Your shoulder is hurt and we both get grouchy and I fall asleep and we never get an evening together... so whatever we do, wherever we are, I want us to stop and actually enjoy the evening.” She took a breath and peered sideways at him. He was amused.

‘You want to enjoy your evening, huh?”

She set her jaw, knowing he wouldn’t want to discuss what happened last night. “We’re on the run from an MC that’s dead set on killing us, but so far all that we do is you drive and I sleep.”

“Come on Kitten, that’s not all we do, is it?” he asked, his voice suddenly liquid caramel.

A hot blush bloomed on her cheeks. “I... I mean...” Why was she the one getting embarrassed here? Last night he was the one who’d come by basically dry humping the mattress. Her mind flooded with the image of his naked back, arching under her. His hot skin, his groans. And her own need, to get a release by rutting herself against him.

He had no shame. Something had changed from last time. He didn’t seem to care that their latest foray into physicality happened how it did. She closed her eyes and imagined him rearing up above her. The glimpse of his large, engorged cock. Then the jets of hot liquid. She closed her eyes and gulped loudly. No, he didn’t need to show shame. She shouldn’t, either. It had been the hottest thing… then the disarming thoughts that had followed. Wanting him, a future, a home with him. A family with him. She pinched her lips shut before she said anything out loud that she shouldn’t say.

Colt’s voice cut through her thoughts, providing an ice bucket of reality. “I’m hoping those guys headed up the highway like they said... they didn’t seem too smart...” Colt muttered, his eyes scouring the road, left and right. She couldn’t see any men on bikes.

“I think we’re clear,” she said tentatively. He made a noise of agreement in his throat.

“For now. They’ll be back. They’ve got intel from somewhere, they know we’re in a van...”

“I wonder if…” she began to say, then trailed off, throwing him a guilty glance.

He flexed his jaw. “What, Kitten? If there is something you need to tell me, about how they might be getting intel…”

She shook her head, that furtive look gone from her face. “No, nothing, I just thought, maybe we should hide somewhere for a bit, get off the road...”

“Yeah, but they’ll be looking for us when we need to stop, buy food or something… get gas... they’ll be waiting for us…” He took a deep breath in and sighed while turning onto the highway. She watched him drive for a bit, falling into companionable silence. He held the steering wheel lightly in one hand, his elbow resting on the window ledge. The other hand was on the gear stick. His strong fingers lightly grasping the knob. His legs stretched out in front of him. His thighs spread a little. He drove with confident ease. She felt comfortable being driven by him.

It was at odds with his hesitancy to get physical with her again. Why was he holding back? Was that why he’d pulled back when her lips had been inches from his hard cock and she’d been thirsty to taste him? Why he’d snapped her panties back into place? Why he’d been ashamed, embarrassed that very first night, when he had let it all go? The way he drove the van told her a lot about him. She was getting a thin slice of him and all of his layers. He had this bad boy exterior, leather clad swagger that had immediately captured her attention. And that bad boy who didn’t give a fuck was still there, still doing his thing, still breaking the law, acting uncivilized, taking what he wanted. But then that deeper, wiser layer was there, too. He wore his helmet on the bike, made sure she wore hers, checked the buckle twice. He looked over his shoulder, he read the map. Didn’t drink any alcohol. A layer that had known fear, pain, betrayal, only made him more in her eyes. More of a man, more of a human, more to admire. More to love. April wanted to take a giant bite from the whole cake, all the layers. All the frosting. All of him. She wanted all of him.

* * *

They’d looped backaround over the state line into California again. They stopped for gas in a small town near a national park. They stopped early that evening, in a clearing, with a shallow stream. The water pattered over gray, smooth stones, plunging into a deeper pool. It was so quiet. She could hear the stream, babbling softly. Forget staying here for the night, she could stay forever.

“Make yourself useful, Kitten, and find some firewood,” he said in his bossy tone once they’d parked up, nodding in the direction of the trees.

Her mouth dropped open for a second, but then she snapped it shut. She rolled her eyes, then mocked dramatically, “Fine, Scout leader, I’ll get firewood.”

He smiled, enjoying her playfulness. “Good, dry stuff, of different sizes-”

“Yes, yes, I know the basics of making a fire-”

It was his turn to raise his eyebrows. “Do you now?”

She shrugged. “Well, I’ve seen enough movies about people making fires...” she quipped playfully.

“Right, it’s just like in the movies.” He chuckled.

“I was also a Girl Scout,” she said mockingly.

He scoffed. “Course you were.”

She grinned and walked away with a little skip in her step. He chuckled, she wouldn’t have thought she could make him chuckle. And she wouldn’t have thought that it would have meant so much to her. But it did. It really did.

The fire snapped, breaking the quiet of the night. The smell of the burning wood filled his nostrils. It reminded him of the bonfires they would have in the courtyard back at the club house. His brothers, standing around, watching the roaring flames. Great BBQ food, a few beers, a few puffs on a good quality joint or two. Warming himself against the quieter, glowing embers as the night came to a close. Some nameless sweet butt tucked under his arm, a full stomach, all the drink he wanted. They were all gone. His brothers. His family. Not by blood. By choice. It was all gone, it hit him like a punch in the gut. Everything he’d worked for and defended, taken from him. All his brothers, killed or missing. He rubbed at the tightness in his chest.

“You okay?” A calm, soft voice said nearby.

Colt turned and looked at April, cross-legged in front of the fire. On the picnic blanket, wearing a large fleece. No shoes, just thick socks. He looked at her hard. Yes, he missed most of his old life painfully, except for one thing. Her. He was glad she was here. He’d swap any of those nameless, faceless lays for her.

“Yeah, I’m okay. Just thinking about my brothers… the MC.” He cleared his throat, trying to refocus. He rubbed the back of his neck. Did he want to get into it with her, here and now? No, he wanted to enjoy this moment. Who knew how long he’d get to have her like this? He could talk about his brothers another time.

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