Page 40 of Obliterate

Looking left and right, I can’t see Ingrid.

She’s making a good pace.

Damn woman.

Gritting my teeth, I rush to my bike and jump on. I’ll be able to find this stubborn woman quicker if I search for her on two wheels.

Since I don’t think she’ll head to the clubhouse, I take off toward her home. As I ride, I keep my eyes peeled to the side of the road while anxiety rampages through me.

She’s just had minor surgery only a few days ago, and she shouldn’t be out walking the streets like this. I should have left sooner rather than trying to make it good with Nash.

That ass could have waited.

Ingrid is far more important.

I’m such a dick.

I turn a corner, cars honking at me for going slower than the speed limit, but I’m also searching the side streets to see if I can spot her. Then, up ahead, the strawberry-blonde beauty in a red dress is in my field of vision. My heart pounds as I hammer down to get to her.

She turns when she hears me approaching but keeps walking. This woman has another thing coming if she thinks she can ignore me. I slow the bike to a crawl, but she avoids eye contact as I try to keep the bike upright. It’s real fucking hard when I’m going this damn slow.

“You know it’s dangerous to walk these parts alone?” I yell above my engine.

She keeps her eyes forward as she visibly huffs. “I’ll take my chances.”

“Ingrid, get on the bike.” Scowling, I rev my bike, moving forward to keep up with her.

“No. I don’t think so.”

Groaning, I inch forward, still keeping up with her as cars swerve around me, honking their horns. “Angel, I won’t ask again. Get… on… the… back… of… my… damn… bike.”

She stops and glares at me. “You saw how Nash reacted, South. He saw us. He fucking saw us!” Tears flood her eyes, and the pain is evident, leaving me no choice. I speed ahead to get in front, then pull my bike to a stop on the road’s edge. After I kick out the stand, I throw my leg over and jump off, catching her by surprise.

She thought I was going to leave.

She has no idea of who I am.

What I am capable of.

Her eyes widen as she gasps. “What are you doing?”

“Reminding you that it’s okay to feel whatever you’re feeling, angel. Now come here,” I demand, reaching out for her.

Ingrid tries to push me away, but I grab hold, pulling her to me and lifting her. She lets out an audible gasp as I pick her up from behind and carry her to my bike.

“South! South,what the fuck?”She tries to wriggle in my grip, but I hold on too tight.

On the way to my bike, she tries to fight as much as she can, but I am far too strong.

“I’ve got you, Ingrid. I’ve always got you. Remember that,” I murmur against her ear, my hot breath whispering over her skin as I hoist her onto the front section of my bike seat.

Her breath catches as she looks over her shoulder at me. “South, what are you—” But before she can finish her sentence, I throw my leg over behind her and slide in.

I pull her back so she slides against me, placing her back snugly to my front. She fits like a damn glove like her body was always meant to be pressed against mine.

Her hands reach out to hold onto the handlebars, and my left hand slides down around her waist, holding her to me.

I pull the bike upright and kick back the stand, the vibration of the engine rolling through both of us as her ass is pressed firmly against me.

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