Page 12 of Bad Luck, Hard Love (Heaven’s Rejects MC #6)

THOR

“This is not what I had in mind,” I answer, staring down at the Strip below us.

I heard about shit like this before, but I never thought I’d be standing on the ledge about to jump off it.

Flying in an airplane is one thing, but willfully jumping off and trusting a cord to keep me alive is something completely different.

Charlotte steps forward, a matching harness to the one I have on strapped around her body. The hem of her dress is tucked neatly to avoid flashing the people walking below us.

As the wind whips through Charlotte’s hair, she turns to face me, a mischievous smile playing on her lips. “I did ask you about heights. You could have stayed on the ground.”

“I’m not afraid of heights,” I lie.

She shoots me an accusatory look. “Sure, seems like you are.”

I step closer to the edge, peering over it again. My heart hammers in my chest. All the shit I’ve done in my life and zip-lining may be how it all ends. V would have a field day with my obituary.

“Are you folks ready?” the attendant asks. His eyes trail to the long line behind us waiting for their turn.

“Yeah,” I mutter.

“I’ll go first,” Charlotte answers, moving around me.

The attendant clips her onto the line and checks her harness one more time.

She peers over her shoulder at me and with one leap, flies forward, squealing as she does.

The crowd below her looks up as she passes by.

The sound of her infectious laugh makes me forget for a second that I will have to follow her.

I step forward, and the attendant repeats the routine with me. With a pat on the back, he steps away, waiting for me to go.

“Fuck it,” I mutter to myself before I jump.

Unlike Charlotte, I don’t soar forward at a fast pace.

I stay there, suspended. The attendant laughs with a shake of his head before he gives me a shove, and I shift forward.

My weight slows me down in comparison to her.

I creep along until I finally reach her on the lower platform, where she is waiting for me.

“That was interesting.” She smiles, her hair still windswept from her trip down.

I take a moment to catch my breath, my heart still racing from the adrenaline rush. “Interesting is one way to put it,” I reply, a mix of relief and exhilaration in my voice. I can’t help but smile back at her, feeling a sense of accomplishment for conquering my fear, even if reluctantly.

Charlotte’s eyes sparkle with mischief as she steps closer to me, her hand reaching out to lightly touch my arm. “You did great, you know. I knew you had it in you.”

The attendants help us remove the harnesses, and once we are free from them, we take the stairs down from the platform. As we near the bottom, Charlotte’s heel slips, and she grabs my hand to steady herself. She doesn’t let go.

As we walk away from the zip-line platform, hand in hand, the bustling energy of Las Vegas surrounds us. The sounds of laughter and music fill the air, blending seamlessly with the distant hum of traffic on the Strip.

Without hesitation, Charlotte leans in and presses her lips against mine—a sweet, lingering kiss that sends shivers down my spine. “Thank you for doing that. I know I kind of messed up our moment on the rooftop.”

“You didn’t ruin anything.” Her fucking ex-husband did.

A woman as beautiful as Charlotte deserves to be cherished, not used like a fucking punching bag.

If I can figure out who this motherfucker is and where he lives, I’ll be the last thing he sees.

Not just for her but for every woman who could come after her.

Men like that do not deserve to draw breath.

Charlotte peers up at me, my face giving away my thoughts. She squeezes my hand tight.

“He’s not worth it.”

“You keep saying that,” I murmur, pulling her closer as we navigate through the crowded sidewalk.

“But men like him don't stop with one victim.” One is never enough once they have the taste for it. They’re like dogs.

Once they’ve tasted blood, they crave it.

And like rabid dogs, they need to be put down.

“I know, but I can't live my life waiting for karma to catch up to him.”

“And what if I want to be karma's delivery man?”

She sighs, pressing her forehead against my chest. “Thor...”

My arms wrap around her instinctively, pulling her close as people stream past us on either side. Her body fits against mine like she was made for it. I breathe in the scent of her hair and feel my resolve weakening.

The light changes, and we cross with the crowd, but my mind is miles away, torn between two overwhelming desires… to hunt down the motherfucker who hurt her and to never let her go.

“You're still thinking about him, aren't you?”

“Yeah,” I admit. No point in lying. “I can't help it.”

We continue our stroll along the Strip, soaking in the vibrant atmosphere. Twenty minutes later, we’re back at our hotel. Charlotte stops outside the main entrance and peers up at the lights.

“Are you okay?” I ask her.

“I don't want the night to end,” she says quietly. “But I also don't want to push things after what happened at dinner.”

I tilt her chin up with my finger. “What do you want, Charlotte? Not what you think you should want. What do you actually want?”

She bites her lower lip, a gesture that makes my chest tighten. “I want to spend more time with you. I want to feel normal again, even if it's just for one night. Take me to your room?”

My breath hitches. She takes a deep breath before she repeats herself.

“I want to go to your room with you.”

Any other man in this city wouldn’t hesitate to take her up on the offer, but after what happened earlier, I can’t help it. One touch and she bolted away from me.

“I’m not sure that is a good idea.”

She shifts, pivoting toward me. Her arms wrap around my stomach as she peers up at me from under her lashes. “I let things get in my head earlier. Things that don’t matter anymore. I want to feel again. I want to know what it’s like to be with someone who makes me feel safe.”

A thousand thoughts race through my mind, battling logic and desire. My heart aches for her, I yearn to be the person who makes her feel safe. But the scars of her past are still fresh, and I can’t ignore the warning signs.

“Charlotte, I don’t want to take advantage of you. You’ve been through so much, and I don’t want to be just another man who hurts you.”

She leans into me, nestling her head against my chest. “I understand your hesitation, but sometimes, taking a leap of faith is the only way to heal. I want you to be that leap of faith.”

Her words send a wave of warmth through me, melting away my hesitance.

A moment of silence passes between us as we stand outside the hotel entrance, the hustle of Las Vegas fading into the background. With each passing second, our connection grows stronger, fueled by an undeniable chemistry that defies all reason.

Finally, I break the silence. “Let’s go to my room,” I say softly, entwining my fingers with hers.

With a smile that lights up her face, Charlotte squeezes my hand, and we head toward the elevator.

The ride to my room feels like an eternity, filled with anticipation and nervous excitement.

As the elevator doors open, we step into the dimly lit corridor, the sound of our footsteps echoing through the quiet hallway.

I slide the keycard into the slot, unlocking the door to my room. The moment we step inside, a surge of electricity courses through the air. The room is bathed in a soft glow filtering through the curtains casting a romantic ambience.

Charlotte’s eyes roam around the room, taking in every detail.

Without uttering a word, she steps forward, presses up on her tiptoes, and her lips crash into mine.

The force of her movements shifts my weight enough that it pushes me onto my heels.

I start to draw my hands to her face, but I hesitate.

She notices, pulling away from me. “It’s okay,” she reassures me.

“I need guidelines, Charlotte. I want to touch you, but I don’t know where.”

She considers the question before she answers. “No hands on my neck.”

“Anything else?”

“Biting, and uh, nails.”

The thought of why she’d mention those specific things send a pang of rage deep into my belly. I shake off the thoughts of murdering this asshole and instead choose to focus on her. Making her feel good and understand that a man can bring her pleasure instead of pain is more important.

“You need to pick a safe word,” I speak firmly. This is a crucial conversation—one I have never had to have in previous relationships, but now feel it is necessary with her.

“What’s that?” she asks with genuine curiosity.

I take a deep breath and do my best to explain the concept. “It’s a way to establish clear boundaries and ensure consent between us. If you feel uncomfortable at any point or want to stop, all you do is say the safe word, and everything will come to a halt.”

Her expression softens with understanding as she nods, “Zip-line.”

“Of course, that’s what you’d pick. Zip-line it is.”

We both share a chuckle, lightening the mood and relieving some of the tension that has built up. It feels good to have this open conversation, to establish trust and boundaries before delving into something more intimate.

As we stand facing each other, the air between us is charged with anticipation. I reach out and gently trace my fingertips along Charlotte’s cheekbone. Her skin is soft as she leans into my touch, her body relaxing under it.