Page 78 of Hendrix
“Oh my God,” she whispered. “I feel better already.”
“Wanna ride on the back of my bike?” I waggled my eyebrows.
“You never let me on it before,” she pointed out. “You said your back was reserved for ol’ ladies only.”
“Yeah,” I said softly. “So what does that tell ya?”
“It tells me that I’ve gone and lost the plot,” she declared. “Because the way I’m feeling right now, it’ll be worth putting up with your asshole ways just to get my tacos.”
Ignoring her jibe, I got to my feet and helped her up from her chair. “You need a warm jacket, gloves, and boots. Meet you outside in five.” Lightly, I swatted her ass. “Go on. Get.”
She let out a little squeal and bounced away, her mood suddenly elevated at the mere thought of a fucking taco, of all things.
My eyes dropped to admire her ass when she suddenly slowed and looked at me over her shoulder. My world tilted on its axis because the expression of pure peace she radiated transported me back to a time when she used to whisper her hopes and dreams, lying naked in my arms with just a blanket covering us.
Emotions swamped me, and something clicked into place.
The world was shifting under my feet. Everything that just a week ago seemed so wrong and fractured suddenly seemed oh so right.
I’d worked hard to achieve my goals, never letting anything get in the way of what I wanted. Even when Erica died, I took four days off before flying back to my unit and volunteering for an extraction mission in Somalia. My determination had worked out because I had everything. A great pad, a great club. My dad, my friends, my bike. I had work that meant something to me, and most of all, I had a purpose.
However, at that moment, I realized that although I’d achieved a lot, I never had everything.
But now I did, and everything came in the form of a kind, beautiful redhead whose entire heart shone in her eyes whenever she looked at me, along with the baby she carried.
And there was nothing sweeter.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
ANNA
Throwing the hotel doors open, I almost skipped into the parking lot like I was walking on clouds because, for the first time ever, I was about to get on the back of Hendrix’s bike. As much as I knew it shouldn’t mean so much to me, it meant the world.
My maternity jeans were fashionably tight, but the waistband still felt comfortable. Freya had loaned me a pair of wedge-heeled black boots along with a black leather jacket that I’d paired with a pink tee. I’d also swiped on some red lip gloss and kohled up my eyes before styling my hair into a fishtail braid that hung down over one shoulder.
The entire ensemble looked awesome.
My lips tipped up when my gaze fell on Hendrix, who sat on his bike, chatting to Colt, and my heart fluttered so hard I thought it would fly out of my chest.
He wore black jeans that hugged his thick thighs and a black leather jacket with the Speed Demons patch on the back emblazoned with the word ‘President.’ His blue eyes were covered by the Oakley wraparound sunglasses I recognized as the ones I bought for him as a birthday gift back when we first started seeing each other.
Bright, white teeth flashed through his beard as he laughed at something Colt said, and I smiled as he reached up and scraped his hair together to gather it into the ever-present black elastic hair tie around the same wrist his silver and leather bracelets adorned.
Jameson ‘Hendrix’ Quinn was the most handsome man I’d ever laid eyes on, and I realized in that moment I’d never stopped loving him, and I never would.
No man had ever made me feel so beautiful and so seen. He’d fucked up badly in the past, but I also knew him to be a decent man, sometimes sweet, and now so fiercely protective of me that my heart sped up whenever he was close.
Although our affair ended badly, our time together was mostly incredible. It was crazy how his erratic behavior during the last weeks of our relationship wiped out everything wonderful that came before. Maybe that was why it hurt so much when he pushed me away.
I wasn’t stupid because I knew he had his reasons for what he did, and although he’d turned my heart into ash, he felt bad enough to come to me months later and beg forgiveness. I’d also picked up on little comments he’d made since I’d been in Virginia but brushed them under the rug because I hadn’t been ready to hear the truth.
Maybe his reasons wouldn’t make a difference to where we were now. Perhaps too much water had passed under the bridge for us to have anything like what we had before. But I couldn’t get Freya’s speech about giving him a chance to explain out of my mind, and now I was ready to listen.
Hendrix spotted me, and he whipped his sunglasses off. His eyes met mine, and our gazes locked into place. “Well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes,” he drawled huskily, his stare raking down my body, then back up again.
My skin tingled from his heated gaze, and I had to push down the urge to strut down the steps, grab his face, and plant a kiss on his soft lips, the way I used to back when he belonged to me. It was crazy how one look could transport me to another time, full of contentment and soft laughter. Memories of whispered promises, soft touches, and tangled sheets swept through my mind, and my heart tugged toward him as if he’d pulled me closer by the invisible string connecting us.
Navigating my way down the steps, I smiled at the buoyancy of my heart. For so long, I’d been slowly becoming more repressed without even noticing. But now I felt lighter as if a huge weight had been lifted from my chest. The fuel tank of his bike was sprayed a copper-tone red apart from the muted chrome handlebars and pipes. A stab of familiarity hit me somewhere deep because the color reminded me of the sunrises we used to watch together.
