The heat radiating from his eyes will burn me alive. My heart races faster, and I’m not sure if it’s from exhilaration or fear. Because as much as I’m dreading what I think he’s going to say, it feels nice to be wanted.
Even if I can’t give him what he wants.
“Where are you planning on going when Esther moves out?”
Here we go.
catch up
Chapter 5
Olivia
“I’ll see you tonight,” I promise Esther. “Call me if . . .”
I don’t finish. Esther doesn’t need me. What she needs is the relief that comes with her family’s safety. She doesn’t need me to hold her hand. She needs me to get her some answers. I won’t be able to do anything for her until Monday, when I start my new job with the Waterbury Department of Children and Families.
“Thank you,” she says, squeezing my hand. “And I do need you, chica. You keep me calm and focused just by being here. So thank you.”
I leave my hand in hers, too stunned to say anything. Being wanted sends a spark of warmth through me. I squeeze her hand back, then release it. “Let’s go,” I say to Cliff, hurrying past him and out of the club house.
On to the next emergency—my biographic title.
“Hey,” Cliff calls after me.
Shoulders tightening, I dangle between pretending not to hear him and riding off, or actually dealing with him right now. Except I’m not dressed for riding, so it’s either go back into the club house and grab my gear, or warm the seat behind him.
Smoothing away my emotions, I turn around. “How pissed is Lucy?” I ask, hoping that’s all he wants to talk about.
He grimaces. “Pretty pissed. Want a ride?”
I try not to mirror the look on his face. I don’t want to hurt his feelings. I just need a little distance right now. Plus, I’ll use any excuse to take out the Street Glide.
“I get it,” he says when I don’t answer right away. “Why ride with me when you can ride your own?” His grin lights up his face. There’s nothing but affection there.
I nod, even though that’s not it. I really need to clear my head.
“Go get changed,” he says. “I’ll wait for you.”
I take a step back toward the club house. “That’s okay. One of us should get to Lucy before she explodes.”
“I’m not really looking forward to facing Livid Lucy and your parents on my own,” he admits.
No matter how muddled my head is, I can’t subject him to that kind of torture. “You’re right. It’s safer if we stick together.” I laugh, and his face softens as he reaches for me.
“I want to talk to you about something.” He places a hand on each side of my waist and pulls me into him, and I nearly dissolve in his arms.
I swallow. “We should go.”
“It’ll take two minutes. I’ll ask, you’ll say yes, and then we’ll handle your parents and Lucy.”
The heat radiating from his body, from his eyes—it will burn me alive. My heart races faster and faster, and I’m not sure if it’s from exhilaration or fear. Because as much as I’m dreading what I think he’s going to say, it feels nice to be wanted.
Even if I can’t give him what he wants.
“Where are you planning on going when Esther moves out?”
Here we go.
I shrug as if I haven’t put any thought into it. “Not sure I’m going anywhere. I mean, my salary with DCF should cover rent.” Barely. “I’ll probably keep my bartending job to fill in the gaps.”
“What if you didn’t have to?” The corners of his lips lift, brown eyes pools that I could dive into. Drown in. He’s the water and I’m the stone.
“I like bartending. Besides, it’s a way out of Prospect pranks.” I roll my eyes, but my smile is fond. Along with club dues, Prospects—potential members of the MC—get the grunt work. That’s how it is. But I swear the guys are giving me the extra special treatment, because there’s no way that regular Prospects have to do things like buy hemorrhoid cream and magnum condoms. Then there was the time they sent me to pick something up, and there was nothing at the address they gave me—not even a building.
It’s like having a gang of older brothers. Their brand of torture is harmless, but it’s a huge pain in my ass. Not to mention a waste of gas. If I’m too busy with work and bartending for them, they can’t send me wandering all over the state. At least, that’s what I’m banking on.
“Just wait ’til you find out what they’ve got planned next,” Cliff says, kissing the tip of my nose. His hands slide up and down my waist. A hot breeze moves my skirt around my thighs. All I want to do is drag him upstairs with me. I have to get undressed anyway.
He kisses the side of my neck, just under my ear, and I’m melting into him again. My neck arches back, exposing my throat. Leaning down, he licks the slope from my chin to the hollow of my collar bone. His lips rest in the space, notching in as if they were made to fit my body.
“Let me take over Esther’s half of your rent.” His lips move against my skin as he speaks, and my knees go weak.
Traitors.
“Cliff,” I moan. “We have to go.” Putting a hand on each side of his chest, I push him away, even though I don’t really want to. I want to take him upstairs with me, let this fantasy envelope me for another little while.
It doesn’t work that way. Things with Cliff need to stay easy if I’m going to remain intact. No tangling up our lives until he’s so deep inside me, I’ll never get him out. A man almost ruined me once before. I’ll never let it happen again.
“I’ll be down in five,” I tell him, tone firm. Without looking back at him, I head into The Wet Mermaid.
The Street Glide hums between my thighs, a constant vibrating purr that reverberates through my bones. This thing is power. It’s the crash of ocean against land, the crush of a flower in a hand, the punishing whip of a sandstorm across the desert.
It already feels like an extension of me.
I push it faster, leaning forward into the wind. My hair lashes out behind me in a stream. If it were possible to do so without getting sand in my mouth, I’d be smiling. I’m the happiest I’ve been in a long time—and the most free.
Cliff draws even with me, throwing an annoyed glance my way. I lift one shoulder. He motions for me to slow down and pull over, his hands and fingers in black leather gloves.
I roll my eyes. We’re just getting to the good part. I’m not exactly sure where we are, as far as town lines go, but I do remember that the road curves ahead, snaking wildly this way and that. It’s a fun stretch to drive in a car. I’m dying to find out how it is on the Harley.
Cliff makes a more fervid motion. His message is clear, but I pretend not to understand. Lifting a hand in a wave, I take off. For a second, I swear I hear a sigh behind me, but that’s impossible. My engine is too loud.
The first curve begins. I don’t slow, but I do lean into the turn just like Cliff taught me. The Harley leans so far, if I glance to my right, the road is only inches from my face. My heart thrusts blood through my veins, and despite the wind, I do smile. Pitted gray gravel blurs past me. A black spot could be an ant or a droplet of grease. I pretend it’s the former, that I’m some Greek goddess looking down on my Earth.
Taking it all in.
As the turn ends, I right the bike. Being vertical again makes blood rush from my head and I feel slightly faint. Dizzy. My hands go numb, my legs heavy. I let my body go limp on the bike, tipping my head back. The air rushes up my neck, a cold caress. I’m a little tempted to let go of the handlebars, but I know Cliff is right behind me and I’m sure my little stunt already gave him a heart attack.
I’ll hear all about it later.
For now I just ride, uniting my body with the machine between my legs, leaning into curves, pushing myself closer to the road every time. It’s an edge that I’m riding—too far and I’ll get myself a nice tattoo of road rash up and down that half of my body. Maybe even wreck myself entirely. It’s the line I’m straddling that gives me a high. Every time I sit upright again, every time adrenaline flushes my system, I feel invincible.
I decide I’m going to name the bike Até, after the Greek goddess of mischief. She’s another part of me, like we were made for each other. It feels like I have to put barely any effort into this. Then again, both Ravage and Donny have said several times that I ride like my father.
Mercy—the first man who taught me how to ride.
Not for the first time, I wonder how different things would’ve been for me if he’d stayed out of prison. If Bree had stayed put. I would have a family much different from the one that adopted me. Even though I wouldn’t trade Lucy for anything, being adopted has its complications.
Mainly, Cliff.
As I cross the Middlebury line, heading south on Route 63, he appears at my side. We’re doing a slower 40 mph, so I actually hear him when he shouts over to me.
“Are you trying to scratch up that Harley?” His silky black hair flies out behind him, and the urge to run my fingers through it makes my hands twitch. I’m always wet after our rides, and today is no different.
Yet this damned ceremony is the only thing Lucy and Cliff have been able to talk about for weeks.
I’m glad we missed it. My adoptive parents have no idea about my second life, but they will soon enough. They’ve done a lot for me over the years, and have always treated me as their own, but I haven’t told them about Cliff yet. It’s bound to cause an argument.
This is my life, not theirs. It’s not even Lucy’s or Cliff’s. Even though I’m not entirely sure what I’m going to do with this life yet, I want the freedom to figure it out. Patting the Street Glide, I slow down as I veer off Route 63 and onto Park Road, toward the restaurant.
At the restaurant, we back our bikes into spaces side by side. I kick down the stand but don’t move. I’m not looking forward to telling my parents that I’m banging the nephew who ruined their lives—according to them.
Never mind what Cliff’s father was doing to their daughter.
I’ve never known two people more in denial.
Cliff pulls me into his arms—thick, muscular limbs that wrap around me. He presses full lips to mine, the metal of his septum piercing cool against my skin. Another change he’s made lately. Yet here I am, still the same.
“It’s going to be okay, Olivia.”
The way he says my name sends warm tingles down my spine. Again I’m overcome by the urge to hop back on our bikes, go to my place, and ride him. But then I’d have to deal with his questions.
I’m not sure who I’d rather face right now—him or my parents.
“Thanks,” I whisper.
I lead him to Elena’s, an expensive Italian restaurant that my parents are obsessed with. They didn’t ask where I’d rather have my graduation brunch, same way they didn’t ask where Lucy wanted hers. Nora and Collin always assume that they know best, end of story.
I step inside, Cliff at my back, both of us still wearing our cuts, jeans, and riding boots despite the humidity. Better to sweat than to get third degree burns from the bikes.
The cold air is a welcome caress. I glance around for my parents and Lucy and, spotting them at a table in the back, ignore the hostess.
“Come on,” I say in a low voice. I weave past the tables, trusting that Cliff is following me and not heading for the hills.
It’s funny, the things that send us running.
For me, it’s the prospect of moving in with him. The unspoken feelings he carries in his eyes.
For him, it’s my parents. The history they share, long before Nora and Collin welcomed me into their home.
Mom smiles when she sees me, her face freezing and falling when she spots Cliff on my heels. Dad follows her gaze, his mouth hardening into a thin line.
“Hey, guys,” Lucy says, rising from her seat and giving us hugs. It’s good to know she’s on my side, no matter how pissed off she is at us for making her wait.
“We only reserved a table for four,” Mom sniffs.
I’m in for a long day.
Thank you for reading Chapter 5 of A Risky Prospect, Book 2 in the River Reapers MC series.
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