Pushing the Limit

Peppermint

Ilaugh as Owen spins me around, then pulls me back against his chest. One of the Eagles turned on some music, and Owen dragged me from the picnic table to the fire, swaying with me to the beat. His erection presses against my ass and his lips graze over my neck. He certainly isn’t comprehending that I don’t want to rush into anything.

“Oooh, one second,” I say, my phone vibrating in my pocket.

I don’t recognize the number. I typically wouldn’t answer, but answering might get me a short reprieve from Owen. Give him a moment to cool off.

“Hello?”

It’s a collect call from the jail. Holy shit. My heart plummets, thinking it could be Ryder. I instantly wonder what kind of trouble he could be in. But no. It isn’t Ryder. It’s Dash. I accept the call, unable to decline.

“I’ll make this quick. I’ve been arrested and need you to come get me.”

“Okay.” No hesitation. No reluctance. He needs me. I’m going. I disconnect and give Owen an apologetic look. “I’m sorry, but I need you to take me back to my truck. Something has come up with a friend of mine.”

He frowns but nods. I follow him to his bike and climb on behind him. We don’t take the scenic route this time, going straight to the Bastards’ clubhouse where my truck is parked.

“Don’t go disappearing on me again, okay?”

I laugh. “I won’t. Have a good night, Owen.”

Before I can walk off, he grips the back of my neck and pulls me in for a kiss. It’s gentle, soft, and over before we can deepen it. He rides off, the promise of seeing me soon lingering in the air, and I go to my truck, anxious to find out what’s happened with Dash.

When I get to the police station, Dash is sitting on a bench, his cut draped over his lap. He spots me and stands up, sauntering toward my truck. His dark locks are a mess, and his wrists have laceration marks.

“Thanks for coming,” he says as he climbs in my truck.

“Of course. Where’s your bike?”

He tells me where to go, and I drive off. I want to ask him what happened, why he was arrested, but I stay quiet. He’s obviously had a rough night.

“Were you with him?”

He doesn’t look at me when he asks, his head still resting against the seat, eyes closed. Part of me wants to tell him to fuck off. That what I do with my time is not his business. He got what he wanted, and he left. That was his decision.

The other part wants to tell him I was with Owen but I was thinking of him. That I am always thinking of him.

“Were you?” he repeats.

“Yes.”

His jaw clenches, but he still doesn’t look at me. He’s pissed when he doesn’t have a right to be. I pull over behind his bike and put my truck in park.

“We’re here.”

He stays there, not moving.

“Dash…”

“All I know is leaving. My dad left. My friends left. Everyone left.”

“So you left before I could?”

“Everyone leaves, Peppermint.”

“I wanted you to stay,” I confess.

I had no intention of leaving. No intention of ending things. I wanted more, so much more, and I still do. Owen may have had my heart before, but Dash has it now.