Page 71 of Iron Hearts
Rarity turned to me, wide-eyed and bewildered and I shrugged.
“Who the fuck knows with those two,” I said.
“That was… confusing,” she said with a light laugh.
“Who you tellin’?” I asked.
Skull and Bones had retreated to the back deck and were standing against the railing. Bones looked back at me and when he caught me looking, gave a respectful nod and then turned and spit over the railing like the classy fucker he was.
I helped Rarity down and asked, “Shall I show you the rest of the place?” and she smiled up at me.
“I’d like that,” she said and I grinned.
Honestly, I just wanted her alone, and all to myself for a bit, and it was as good an excuse as any to get her away from the crowd.
CHAPTERTWENTY-SIX
Rarity…
We went down the stairs and into the office area that housed Striker’s desk and the offices used by Renegade and Shadow. There was weight equipment out on the deck down here, something that Striker had said was moved down from upstairs with all the visitors they’d had to the club lately.
There were shelves of smaller parts down here on the second floor, too – but the bulk of that stuff had to be down on the first floor, in the garage.
He showed me around the second floor – and there wasn’t a whole lot to it. Just a few more single occupancy bathrooms for when the two upstairs were occupied, and those were down here right by the stairs up to the third floor.
He took my hand in his and led me to the set of stairs I’d come up the first time I’d ever been here, which honestly felt like eons ago, rather than just weeks.
We went down into the closed-up garages downstairs, so that he could show me the projects they were working on, and I stopped at the bottom of the stairs to run fingertips over the thinly covered project leaning near the wall. It had this wispy plastic sheeting draped over it, so thin, that the current of air from our passing made it rustle and ripple.
“Oh, this one is going out Monday – we just finished,” he said noting my fingertips trailing over the thin plastic and over the seat.
“Yeah?” I asked.
“She’s a beauty,” he remarked. “Headed to New Orleans and Dracula themed.”
“Dracula themed?” I asked. “Book or movie?”
He grinned and said, “Basically the same thing,” and drew the plastic back, revealing a motorcycle done in rich blacks and reds. The tank a glossy black with deep burgundy roses that dripped blood.
There were coffin and bat accents and details all over the place, and it was beautiful – dark and rich, the whole thing screaming money and decadence.
“This is my favorite part,” he said kneeling down and running a thumb around some engraving at the edge of some round engine piece I had no name for. I knelt down beside him to look and felt my lips curve into an appreciative smile at the famous quote from the movie,“I have crossed oceans of time to find you…”
“I’ve never actually read Dracula to know if this quote is part of the book, but they delivered it in the movie with,” I sucked in a breath and whistled a bit and said, “wow.”
“I know, right?” he said and he stood and held down a hand to help me to my feet.
I overbalanced, and rather than fall toward the bike that cost more than I probably made in a decade, I trusted Striker to catch me, and fetched up against him. I looked up about to apologize, but the look on his face stole my breath and stopped me from speaking.
We stared into each other’s eyes for several throbbing, aching, heartbeats that were filled with a longing I had no real understanding of, and then his lips descended toward mine, and it felt as though whatever longing I’d felt took wing and his kiss unlocked the door to its cage and it flew free with a frantic beat of its wings that tickled my insides.
Our lips met, and this time, things were…different.More intense,insanely intense,my heart swelling in my chest until it pressed painfully against the cage of my ribs. Like, it swelled so hard from being so full at finally having Striker’s hands on me, that it left no room for me to draw breath, even as his hands slid around my body, pulling me closer to him.
Our tongues danced, the heat building between us, until my skin flushed and a light mist of perspiration dewed my chest and upper lip.
I groaned into Striker’s mouth, and swooned into him, and yeah, my foot popped up off the ground behind me like we were the lead characters in some epic romance movie in the scene where the music swelled and the kiss became this almost fever dream.
“You trust me, baby girl?” he practically growled against my lips, and the low visceral sound of it sent a shudder through me in the most delicious of ways.
