“I guessed you’d be wearing another pair of obscene shoes.”
“You got me some boots?”
“I figured if you’re going on the run... you need a decent pair of boots.” He almost looked bashful.
She was touched. Genuinely impressed by the thoughtfulness and care that went into him finding her a pair of cute little boots in her size. It looked like he hadn’t slept or eaten since she’d last seen him, but somehow he’d managed to get her some boots. She was speechless.
She looked up at him. His gaze was fixed on her feet, currently in her little black peep toe Jimmy Choo’s. He growled.
“Fuck shoes,” he muttered hungrily.
She raised her eyebrows. “Do you have some sort of foot fetish or something? Because it’s weird…”
“Not until I saw yours,” he growled back. He cleared his throat, shifted, turned away. Almost like he’d said too much. “I was left standing at the side of the road holding your last pair of heels. I learn from my mistakes, I’m not asking you to run anywhere in fuck shoes again.”
She didn’t know what to say to that. She sat down. She didn’t have any socks but she wouldn’t mention it. He kept his head down, almost as if she were changing clothes or something. Like he knew he shouldn’t look, no matter how much he wanted to, or he was preserving her dignity. If he liked her feet, he was showing great restraint in not looking.
She cleared her throat as she laced up the boots. “Aren’t you raging drunk by now anyway?” she asked haughtily.
He looked straight at her then, frowning, puzzled.
“The Grey Goose? Haven’t you guzzled it all by now?”
“You mean this bottle?” He twitched his hand. April peered through the darkness. There was the bottle, in his hand. He held it loosely. It had a rag stuffed in the top. She frowned.
He got out his lighter with the other hand. Flicked it once. His face lit up in the orange glow. His gaze was fixed on her. The rag caught, burning with a flighty yellow flame. He stood, took a few running steps and threw it. Overarm. She watched it hurl through the air, a look of dumb horror frozen on her face. It smashed through a hotel window. The fire catching, spreading instantly, illuminating the room with an orange gleam. She gaped back at him.
He smiled. He was crouched down next to her, he looked straight back at her and smiled.
“You just… but the fire alarm… there wasn’t a real fire…”
He simply shrugged. “There is now. Relax, everyone’s out, I heard them say everyone is accounted for.”
“Then why…”
“Wouldn’t want to waste good alcohol.”
“I thought you’d have drunk it.”
He shook his head once. “No, turns out I can’t hold a drink since getting out of prison.” He licked his lips, as his eyes darted around. “The MC is coming. They know you’re here. If you want to do this… I can get us both far away from here. We run,” he said quietly, looking at her intently.
“You came to warn me? To help me?” She stammered. “You could have just disappeared and you’d probably be far away and safe by now. I was so rude to you, I laughed in your face-”
He shrugged again. “Yes.”
“But you came back for me anyway?”
“Yes.”
April almost laughed out loud. “And to think, I judged you for being a dirty, rowdy, bad boy ex con biker-”
“Kitten, I’ll say again what I said before, I can give you a fast ride and a hot, hard fuck. That’s all there is to it. Now, do you want it or not?”
She gaped. She wanted to get out of here and trusted him to do that at least. Once they were out of harm’s way, she could collect herself, assess her options, make a plan. She could walk away from him, and get back to her life, her job. As for the other part, she couldn’t. A hot, hard fuck? She couldn’t want that, could she? Her mouth felt suddenly dry. She knew she did but she couldn’t.
“I’ll take the ride out of here-”
“Kitten, I will be fucking you, you know that, don’t you?”