Rocket (Hell's Handlers MC 5)

“Sounds like a plan. Bye.” With a lame wave, she turned and hustled to Logan’s room.

Come up for air. Ha. That meant she had to dive in to the deep end first. As she threw some things in a bag, her thoughts drifted to Logan. Sexy didn’t come close to describing the sculpted body he seemed to maintain without much effort. Tanned skin, a smattering of tattoos, muscles that rivaled any male fitness model, he was everything that turned her on physically. Even standing there holding a pair of leggings, her body began to respond to thoughts of him. Her stomach fluttered, nipples tightened, and mouth watered at the idea of licking all those ridges and valleys.

Logan was a protector. Even his brothers knew it. A feeling of peace and clarity settled over her. She was safe with him. At least her body was. He certainly had the potential to obliterate her heart, but that was something she couldn’t worry about right now. One issue at a time and right now, her body was clamoring for top spot.

She was ready. Ready to try for some semblance of a healthy sex life.

But first she had to see what she could do to help Logan battle his own monsters.

Packing took only four minutes plus another two to hightail it outside to Logan’s bike. He sat astride it, dark athletic sunglasses hiding his piercing blue eyes. His attention was on her the moment her foot hit the compacted dirt of the parking lot.

“You okay to wear you backpack? Might be too big to fit in my saddle bags.”

“Yeah, that’s no problem,” she said as she stepped close to the motorcycle.

He held out a helmet. Probably his only one as he wasn’t wearing one. The thought of him riding without the protection of a helmet had her hesitating to reach for it. Not that he’d ever let her go without, but maybe there was a spare hanging around the clubhouse somewhere.

One look at his face had her scrapping that thought. He’d probably laugh her out of Tennessee if she made a big deal of it.

“You been on a bike before?” he asked as he batted her hands out of the way and clasped the helmet himself.

Chloe blinked and frowned. Was he serious? “Um, yes.” She swallowed around a constricted throat. “Just one time.” The words were practically whispered. Damn her voice for quitting on her now.

Logan’s expression darkened. “Shit. Fuck. I can’t fucking believe I forg—”

“Hey.” She lifted his sunglasses to the top of his head as she stepped into him. “Shh, it’s okay. You forgot. No big deal.”

Charcoal storm clouds darkened in his eyes. “There’s nothing okay about this. Don’t let me off the hook.”

All right, being sorry for the slip-up was one thing. Self-recrimination was a whole other issue. “Logan,” she said with a small laugh. “You think I’m going to complain about you forgetting that the one time I was on a motorcycle was when I was battered and bloody after the worst two days of my life?”

“I’m an asshole.”

She cocked her head which was the wrong move. Unused to wearing the heavy helmet, she felt like she was going to keep going until she hit the ground. She quickly unclasped it and yanked it off.

“Here’s the thing. When I’m with people who know some version of what happened to me, like my family and now your club, I wonder constantly if it’s all they see. If I’m now the girl who was raped and beaten. I can’t stop questioning whether I’m pitied or looked at differently than I was before. You are the only one I spend time with who knows exactly what I looked like that night, because you are the only one outside the hospital who actually saw me. I’ve asked myself a million times whether you see that version of me every time you look at me. So yeah, I’m pretty damn happy that you forgot about it, even it if it was only for thirty seconds. I didn’t get to enjoy my ride that night. This ride, I plan to savor.” She injected as much seduction as she could into her voice. Let him wonder if she was hoping to savor a different ride.

Because she was. It was time.

He growled. Quick as lightning, his hand came around the back of her neck and yanked her forward. When his mouth crushed against hers, she nearly lost her footing. Clinging to the flaps of his cut for dear life was the only reason she remained upright.

Holy hell, the man could kiss. If she had any lingering worry he only saw her as a victim, it evaporated the moment his lips captured hers. There wasn’t a hint of restraint in his kiss. The moment boiled down to nothing more than a man and a woman who wanted to devour each other. No past baggage, current complications, or future uncertainties tainted the perfection.