“This is Cherry,” Lip answers for me. I sigh with relief that he took over the conversation.
“Cherry, huh? I like it.” Bull smiles, nodding. Actually, he doesn’t look so scary when he smiles.
“She’s truly beautiful, Lip. Why don’t you take her out back, get her away from all this noise and commotion?” Bull suggests. Silence falls between the two and Bull pins Lip with an unknowing stare. I turn my head, watching Lip return the hard look.
“Yeah, sure. That sounds like a good idea,” Lip replies, his tone dry as he takes a sip of his beer. “Come on, Cherry.”
Once we’re out back and the music is drowned out, cool air sweeps the hair off my neck. I inhale a deep breath, filling my lungs with clean air. Lip lets go of my hand and steps a few feet in front of me. His shoulders are tense, and his body is rising with rapid breaths. He looks pissed.
“Um, are you okay?” I ask softly. He lowers his head and runs his hand back and forth through his hair. My thighs clench from the sight of him. It’s dark out here—the only light is from the street lamp from above, casting the meanest shadow over him—but it makes him that much more appealing to me. He looks damaged, broken like me.
Lip slowly raises his head and tilts his chin upward. He has a look in his eyes that is hungry, primal. I swallow the lump in my throat, and my lips part to allow my harsh breathing to escape. I want him, even though I know I shouldn’t. I know the timing is wrong, and I know a man like him can’t love a woman. But it’s not stopping me from craving him.
“Fuck, you’re sexy,” he breathes heavily. His eyes tear into my soul, unlocking things I couldn’t yet figure out. He steps forward and cups the back of my neck. “Do you know that?” Glancing up under my lashes at him, I shrug. I’d never call myself sexy, average at most. Growing up, I was nothing but bullied, told how I was a geek and ugly. After hearing it for so long, you start to believe it. His eyes narrow with confusion as he looks me over. “You have no clue how attractive you are,” he mutters as if he can’t believe it. I inhale a shaky breath through my nose, my gaze never leaving his. His gorgeous eyes burn a trail of desire along my skin as he looks me over. “You have the eyes of a saint, but the body of a fucking temptress, Cherry.” My eyes go heavy and my body rushes with adrenaline, making me feel drunk. His eyes fall to my lips, and my chest constricts. I want to pull away and break this spell I’m under, but I don’t move, don’t do anything. “I don’t know if I should kiss those sugar lips or bite them.” My lips suddenly ache with the urge to be tasted by him, to see if he tastes as dangerous as he looks. My gaze trails from his dark eyes to his lips. I bet he tastes like sex and sin.
As if he read my mind, he slowly lowers his head toward me, as if he’s scared I might pull away. I should turn my head away, but I don’t want to. When he figures out I’m not going anywhere, his lips claim mine with a hard demand, his tongue seeking entry and tasting me with a sense of urgency. I moan into his mouth, expelling the hurt and distress I’ve kept hinged within for months. My fingers tangle into his hair as my legs try to climb him, wanting to become one with his strong build. Our mouths explore each other’s, taking and offering in a dance of chaos. His calloused hands grab at my ass, his touch foreign and rough.
He tastes like beer and mint, a flavor that is toxic to my resistance. He breathes in my pain and fills me with a sense of hope. A hope that not all men are assholes, and maybe, just maybe Lip is different. He pulls away slowly, nipping on my bottom lip.
“You scared?” he questions, his words feathering against my swollen mouth. My lips still feeling like his are devouring them, fluttering with phantom kisses. I keep my eyes closed for a second longer, wanting to stay in this state of bliss.
I thought about lying to Lip and telling him I wasn’t scared at all, but the way he’s smirking, he already knows I’m nervous. Being around a bunch of dangerous bikers, criminals who were known killers around the area, is enough to make anyone sweat. But what really scares me is the way I want Lip so badly, the way my thoughts of realism succumb to his confidence and aura of safety. He grasps the nape of my neck and kisses my lips softly, holding his against mine a second longer than needed.
“I got you, Cherry,” he whispers. I close my eyes and inhale his scent as I soak in his words. I don’t know what they mean, but I don’t fucking care. I was literally just kissed stupid seconds ago, and the way my body warms with knowing that I’m safe… I can barely breathe.
He grabs my hand, and we sit down against the brick of the building. Heat wafts off it from the sun bearing down on it all day.
“You got a man?” he asks, and I look down at the gravel and laugh.