Torched (12 page)

Make no mistake, he’d have her in exactly that position. One way or another.

“Good. Get moving,” he ordered.

“Torch—”

“Babe. Move it.”

Liv groaned, but did as she was told, stomping her feet like a petulant child for added dramatic flair.

Fuck, she was going to drive him insane.

: : : :

“Okay, now wrap your arms around me and hold on tight,” Torch instructed as she mounted the bike, leaving several inches of space between their hips. “You’re gonna have to get closer than that, babe.”

“Seriously?”

“You wanna fucking fall off?”

“Not really.” She slid forward and straddled him. Her hands reached around his chest. She wasn’t lying about it being her first time.

“Lower, sweetheart. Can’t have you squeezing the air out of my lungs.”

She dropped her hands down until they were just above his belt. What he wouldn’t have given for her to unbuckle it and slide her fingers inside. “Now, when we hit a curve, you go with the flow and lean with me. Don’t freak out and pull the other way.”

“You won’t make really sharp turns, right? Somebody told me that I look like shit covered in cuts and bruises.”

Did she honestly think he’d take any chances of laying down the bike with her on it? “Shut up and relax. I’ve got you.”

He started up the bike and stretched his neck while it warmed up. It was all kinked up from a restless night on Snoop’s ratty old couch. Kicking the stand back, he twisted the throttle slightly to rev the engine. It was a shameless attempt at motorcycle foreplay. He flinched as her nails dug into his stomach, positive that she could break skin with those claws. Which wouldn’t necessarily be a bad thing under different circumstances.

“
Babe
, I got you,” he assured her again. She eased up and leaned her entire body into the back of his leather, the side of her face resting on his shoulder.

He pulled the clutch, shifted down to first gear, and made a few slow loops through the parking lot, letting her adjust to the bike’s feel and movement before pulling out and speeding up.

Soon enough, her body completely relaxed into his, and the three of them—Liv, Torch, and his Harley—became one with the road.

: : : :

They rode for a couple hours before Torch decided to pull off in a picnic area to give her virgin legs a break. It was still morning, but getting balmy already.

An enormous smile stretched across her face. “That was
amazing
.”

Torch smiled too, pleased and energized. Her enthusiasm was infectious. “Anytime you wanna ride, you call me. Don’t be getting on another man’s bike.”

“Seriously? That’s the most ridiculous request ever, Torch,” she scoffed.

“It’s not a
request
, Liv.”

Reaching into his saddlebags, he pulled out sodas, turkey sandwiches he’d made, and a thin blanket. Setting the spread out on the grass, she took a seat beside him and inhaled her lunch before he’d even taken a bite of his.

“Goddamn, is Snoop starving your ass?” he asked. The girl could
eat
.

She blushed. “I’m always hungry. Barely fit into my clothes anymore.”

“What, you gain a whole two pounds?” he snickered. “You look good, babe. A girl like you needs some meat on her bones.”

She looked down and scratched nervously at her chest. “You think I look good?”

Did she really have to ask? “No, I lied... You look better than good, babe. Beautiful. And don’t you ever forget that. Don’t let anybody ever tell you different.”

Her smile could’ve lit up an arena. She layed down on the blanket and closed her eyes.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

“For speaking the truth?”

“For making me feel good. I haven’t had that for… well… ever. Not counting all the charmers at the bar who just want some ass, no man’s ever called me beautiful.”

Torch’s heart—what was left of it—ripped open.

If this had been a different time, a different life, he would volunteer to tell her how beautiful she was every day of the year. But this was now, in his fucked-up life, and he couldn’t go there. He didn’t want to. Torch had been burned too bad to ever go there with a woman again. He had only whores and meaningless fucks to look forward to. He was set in his way of life, his line of work, and his dark existence. Livia had a wide-open future.

She was everything a man like him would never deserve. “You haven’t lived yet.”

“I’ve lived more than you can imagine. Seen a lot,” she said with a shrug.

Her candor took him off-guard. “I
can
imagine, if what you looked like a few weeks ago is any indication. But you haven’t really lived if you gotta question a compliment.”

“I guess.”

“Everybody’s got a breaking point, sweetheart. Getting the shit beat outta you is as good a reason to break as any. But you didn’t, you left. And you’re gonna do amazing things with the rest of your life.”

“You think?”

“I know.”

She looked up at him and bit her trembling bottom lip anxiously. “You think that people can ever truly escape their pasts?” she asked.

Torch considered the question as he leaned down and wiped away a tear that rolled down her cheek. His own past was still haunting him, but the girl looked like she just needed a little bit of hope. “You can do whatever the hell you set your mind to, baby. Anybody can redefine themselves. Eventually, whatever happened to you will just be a blip in the radar of your life. But you have to let yourself let go of it.”

“What if you can’t make amends?” she pressed on. “You know, karma and all that?”

“Karma’s bullshit. And what the fuck would you have to make amends for? You even old enough to drink?”

That made her crack a small smile. “According to my new ID, I am. But I’m actually twenty.”

Twenty, Jesus, she was way to young to be worrying about making amends and all that shit. “What, you steal some candy or something?”

She wasn’t amused, her smile instantly turned into a frown. “If only. I’ve been on my own since I was a kid. Not that it’s an excuse, but I did what I had to do to stay alive. Some of it wasn’t pretty.”

“Where the hell were your parents that you’ve been on your own so long?” he asked incredulously. Philly wasn’t some small and safe town, crime ran rampant. He didn’t understand how a young girl could survive on her own.

“Dead.”

Dead. No emotion. Torch realized that they probably had a lot more in common than she knew. “No other family?”

“None that I know of. It’s just me against the world, as cliched as it sounds.”

“Fuck.”

“Yeah,” she sighed. “It’s okay though. At least I didn’t end up in foster care. I’ve heard horror stories.”

He was starting to get the picture—an orphan who was scared of the system and somehow managed to make it on the street. “I was sixteen when I had to make a run for it. And I guarantee I did a lot more fucked-up shit to survive than you could have. Don’t beat yourself up so much.”

“Don’t be so sure,” she said, closing her eyes again. “But I think we should talk about something else.”

Oh, he was sure. He’d killed for his adopted family. Committed felonies. Hid the bodies. There was no way this sweet-looking creature had it in her to do anything like that.

“Hey, look at me,” he urged, nudging her face toward his. She opened her eyes, which were now red and starting to twitch a bit.

“I really don’t wanna talk about it anymore, Torch. Please, just drop it,” she pleaded.

Fucking great, right back to being the guarded girl he’d found outside of a motel room in the middle of nowhere.

“I’m not gonna make you talk, babe. Just listen.”

She nodded, but still wouldn’t look him in the eye.

“Whatever you did—whether you tell me or not—I won’t judge. Trust me, I’ve got no right. But you also don’t have a right to blame yourself for anything you did to survive.”

“Are you gonna break your promise and dig into my past?” she asked, the fear in her voice tearing at his heart again.

“Why would I do that?” He was honestly perplexed. “You’ve made it pretty clear that’s not what you want.”

She looked skeptical. “Yeah, well, you look like someone who does what
he
wants.”

He knew she had no reason to trust him, but he wished she would. Obviously, she was scared of what would happen if he pried, and he had no intention of giving her even more bullshit to deal with. “Look, all I’m saying is don’t be scared around me. Your secrets are safe. I’m not going knocking on any doors. Got it?”

“Got it.” She seemed to relax a little again, but Torch knew she wouldn’t be revealing anything else. They both fell silent, her back in some kind of tortured mental state, while he leaned on his elbows and enjoyed the breeze.

And the view.

Shit. Her shirt had ridden up and her jeans ridden down, exposing her soft and smooth belly. Visions of dipping his tongue into her navel swam through Torch’s head.

But he wasn’t the only one attracted to her silky flesh, a ladybug had found its way to her stomach. Torch reached over to flick it off.

“No, wait.” She slowly sat up and watched the insect, then placed a finger directly in its path and waited for it to climb on. She brought her hand up to her face and studied it.

“You like bugs?” Torch asked, amused.

“Not really, just ladybugs,” she said. “They’re such a beautiful contradiction and kind of a metaphor for life.”

“How’s that?”

“Look at it,” she insisted, holding it up to his face.

“I see a bug, babe.”

“A pretty bug to human eyes. A deep, bright red. The color of passion and love. Almost cartoonish.”

He had no idea where she was going with that. A bug was a fucking bug.

“And the color of blood,” she continued. “Did you know these cute little things are cannibals?”

“No shit?”

“Yeah. They usually eat garden insects, but when food is scarce, they’ll chow down on each other to survive.”

Torch chuckled. “That’s disgusting, babe. Should I be worried that you think cannibal bugs are a metaphor for life? You still hungry?”

Liv smacked him. “No,
babe
. I just think they represent a lot of people. All polished and pretty on the outside, but actually vicious and out for themselves. They’re deceiving.”

Torch watched as she dropped her hand and let the mean little bugger make its way onto a blade of grass. “You’ve been around a lot of deceiving people, huh?”

“Pretty much
all
I’ve been around,” she sighed. “If I ever trust again, it won’t come easy, I’ll tell you that.”

“Where’s your phone?” Torch asked.

“Why?”

“Just give me your damn phone. You always ready to rumble, woman?”

“Almost always,” she grinned, but reached into her pocket and handed it to him.

He flipped it open and punched in the number for his own. “I’m putting my number in here. You ever need help, you call. Day or night. Yeah?”

“Okay,” she said skeptically.

“I’m serious, babe. You get in over your head, or just need an ear, you use that number to call me first. I’m not some fucking ladybug. Got it?”

“Yeah, I got it. Thank you.”

He slid the phone back in her jeans, doing his best not to imagine slipping his hand somewhere else just a few inches away.

Fuck, knowing she was wiser than her years and not exactly some inexperienced young girl made him lust for her even more. A combination of beauty and brains easily elevated her to the top percentile of women he usually came across.

It was definitely time to get back on the bike, before he rolled on top of her and disproved that he wasn’t
exactly
like the drunk fucks at the bar who told her she was beautiful to get some ass.

“You ready to go back?” he asked.

“No. Can we ride for a bit longer?”

Torch grinned. This bitch. She’d be the end of him one day. He just knew.

“As long as it’s
my
bike you’re on, we can ride however long you want. I meant that shit too. You don’t find some other biker asshole—”

She cut him off. “Are you gonna keep bossing me around or can we go now?”

Yeah, he was done bossing her around. “Let’s ride, baby”

: : : :

I’d spent another three hours on the back of Torch’s bike after our little impromptu picnic and chat. Three more glorious hours of nothing but sun, wind, and peace. My ass was numb and my back sore, but it had been worth every last minute. One of these days, I’d learn to ride myself.

There was just something incredibly cathartic about the way body and machine could flow together and be so in sync. Which was strange considering that one wrong move could also spell mangled metal and death. But it was that push-and-pull effect, I realized, that explained the appeal and obsessive love people had for their motorcycles.