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Finally, Hunter straightens up, gently pulling out of me. I turn to face him, suddenly feeling shy despite what we've just done. I can’t believe I just fucked him in the middle of a parking lot. And not even inside his car, but literally standing in the middle of a parking lot.
"Um, maybe we should get dressed," I suggest, glancing around nervously.
Hunter chuckles, reaching into the truck to grab our clothes. "Probably a good idea. I'd hate for you to end up back in jail so soon."
As we get dressed, I can't help but laugh at the absurdity of the situation.
"I can't believe we just did that," I say.
“I can.”
“You can?”
“When you really want something, take it,” he says, shrugging as he pulls on his shirt.
“Which means…?”
“I really want you.”
I hide my too-wide grin behind the act of bending over to pull on my pants.
As we finish dressing and climb back into the truck, a comfortable silence settles between us. Hunter starts the engine, and I can't help but notice the satisfied smirk on his face as he pulls out of the parking lot.
"So," I say, breaking the silence, "does this mean we're not going back to your place anymore?"
Hunter glances at me, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "Oh, we're definitely still going to my place. That was just the appetizer, Emily. I'm nowhere near done with you yet."
A shiver of anticipation runs through me at his words. "Good," I reply, my voice husky. "Because I'm not done with you either. And I could still really use that shower."
Chapter Thirty-One
Hunter
I can’t stop stealing glances at her when I’m supposed to be driving. Every time I catch myself, I peel my eyes away; every time I take my eyes off her, they’re drawn right back. I keep asking myself: is this real?
It can’t be, right? Men like me don’t get women like her.
It wasn’t just fucking her in the parking lot that has me feeling this way, though I’m getting hard again even as we drive. It was seeing this different side of her, the side that isn’t the straight-laced student and babysitter, but instead will throw a punch sticking up for her friend, even if it’s against a cop. She’s tougher than I thought, she’s proved that, and maybe I don’t need to worry so much about bringing her into my world even more than she already is; I don’t need to shelter her so much from the MC lifestyle… though there are still some things I can’t tell her about yet.
“I want to talk to you about something,” I say. My voice comes out slow, hesitant. Opening up like this isn’t easy. I don’t have a lot of practice at it. Living alone, wandering, keeping my attachments to nothing but the short term, except for those rare few people like Diesel and Tank that I’d dare to call friends, there’s only a handful of people I’ve ever let in, and some of them, like Tyler and Kate, are dead. “It’s important.”
She looks at me for a moment. It’s a guarded, but kind, look, and then she keeps her eyes forward, as if she knows this isn’t easy for me and she doesn’t want to push. “What is it?”
We reach the driveway to the house and I put the truck in park, but leave the engine idling. I turn in the seat and make eye contact. It’d be so easy to just give up the idea of telling her even a part of my truth, just give myself over to the soft greens that sit above her cute nose, but it’d be more of a crime than anything I’ve done; I can’t feel the way I do about her and keep her completely in the dark. It’d be wrong, and, even worth, it’d put her at risk. I’ve failed the people I love once before. I refuse to do it again.
“There are things you need to know about me, Emily. They might be hard to hear, but I’m asking you to listen until the end.”
She reaches for me, her hand stopping halfway to rest upon the seat between us. “I’m ready.”
I take hers, hold it. “You sure?”
“I’m sure. And I’m sure of us.”
A breath precedes everything I have to say. Slow, sure, guarded. “I have a past. And it goes deeper and darker than just some speeding tickets or spending an overnight in a city lockup. Some things I’ve done, I’m not proud of; some things I’ve done, I’m very proud of.”
I pause, and in that pause, she speaks. “Proud?”
"I am.” I nod. “I’ve worn two uniforms in my life — as an Army Ranger and a biker. I’ve done stuff in both uniforms that keeps me up, and stuff that will make me puff my chest out until the day I die. I’m telling you all this because I’m trying to join the local MC, the Twisted Devils, and that means my life could get dangerous. You deserve to know that, because not knowing could mean you get hurt, and I’ve seen what happens to people who don’t know what they’re getting into,” I say. I pause, barely hiding a hitch in my voice as I think of my brother. For a second, a flash of anger goes through me — how the fuck could you be so lax, Tyler? How the fuck could you butt heads with someone like Victor Moretti and not have your guard up? — and I realize it’s the first time I’ve felt anything other than that base, primal desire to get Charlie to safety when I think about my brother’s death.
