Page 10 of Hellbent (Snakes & Daggers #1)

WYATT AND I ride back in silence to the garage. I rest my cheek against his shoulder, sinking into the comfort of his warmth and strength. The cold air whips past—a sharp contrast to the reassuring shelter of his broad back, the sure rhythm of his body anchoring me as we slice through the dark.

I’m not ready to call it a night. I’m not tired in the least. My mind is still tangled up in Jake.

That deep, wrecked groan when he came inside me. The way he missed me all day.

I bite my lip against the heat creeping up my neck, my fingers curling just a little tighter against Wyatt’s jacket.

The garage looms out of the dark, windows black, the lot empty. We coast over the gravel, tires crunching as we approach the side door. When we get close, a motion light clicks on, throwing a pale cone of light across the snow-dusted ground. Wyatt parks, kills the engine, and we both swing off.

I shake out my hair, and when I glance up, he’s watching me with hesitation, like he’s got something to say.

“What?”

He tilts his head. “You know what.”

“No, I don’t.”

Wyatt takes off his helmet, sighing through his nose. “I just think you wanna be careful, is all.”

The way he says it throws me. My guard flickers up on instinct, but I hold it in check. “I can take care of myself.”

“Jake’s a good guy,” he says. “But he’s not the settling-down kind.”

A laugh escapes me, sharp and incredulous. “Oh, so that’s what this is about. Well, I’m not looking to settle down. We’re just…friends.”

He gives me a look—just a flick of his eyebrows, but it says plenty. He doesn’t believe me.

I shift my weight. “I wasn’t aware it was any of your business.”

Wyatt’s jaw tenses, but he doesn’t rise to the bait. He watches me for a second, like he’s weighing something, then says quietly, “You’ve had a rough enough road already. I just don’t want things to get complicated for you.”

I almost roll my eyes. But something about the way he says it sticks.

Jake is easy to like. Easy to want. He’s charming and reckless, flirtatious and magnetic. Guys like that are always players. Women probably throw themselves at him, and I doubt I’m the first girl to think maybe he and I could be something more.

Still, Wyatt’s got me feeling defensive.

I fold my arms tighter. “I’m not looking for a white picket fence, Wyatt.”

He snorts. “No shit. Listen, I’m not trying to tell you what to do. I’m not your damn father.”

“Well, you’re doing a good job of acting like it.”

“I give a shit about you, okay?”

I don’t know what to say. There’s a long beat where neither of us moves. We stand there in the cold, wind kicking up snow flurries across the lot, and then finally, he gestures toward the door. “Go to bed, kid.”

I don’t argue. But as I step inside, and hear the heavy click of the door shutting behind me, I can still feel his words lingering in the air.

I’m still not used to the silence of this place. No men drunkenly stomping around outside my door. No muffled arguments. No roaring engines, no clinking bottles, no deep voices speaking in low, conspiratorial tones.

Just me.

I take my time getting ready for bed, savoring the small act of folding my clothes neatly on the shelf I cleared for them, and taking a minute to look proudly at the few items there. All mine. I earned them.

The mattress creaks as I lower myself onto it and burrow under the scratchy wool blanket with satisfaction. It’s not as comfortable as Jake’s bed, but it still means something that it’s a place of my own.

I close my eyes, and the quiet wraps around me, pulling me under into the kind of deep, dreamless sleep I never had at the clubhouse…

But then a sound startles me awake.

A faint click—the doorknob turning.

My heart lurches, adrenaline spiking through me as I bolt upright, my breath catching in my throat. The room is pitch dark, my ears straining for any sign of movement.

I scramble for the blanket, clutching it tight, my mind racing. Did Wyatt come back for something?

The door opens, the hallway light illuminating a shape in the doorway, and I release a sharp breath.

Jake.

He grins when he sees me sitting up, unbothered by the fact that he just broke in like a goddamn criminal.

“What the hell are you doing?” I hiss.

Jake lifts a hand, twirling something around his finger. A key.

“Borrowed this from Damian.” His voice is low and smug.

I stare at him, still half-asleep, my heart pounding. “Jake.” I laugh incredulously. “Wyatt’s going to kill you.”

“Wyatt doesn’t need to know.” His voice is soft and teasing. He walks in and brushes my knee over the blanket. “He’s already tucked you in. We’ve got hours before anyone comes knocking.”

I should tell him to leave. I know I should. But I don’t.

He watches me for a beat, then sighs dramatically, backing up toward the door. “All right, if you really want me to go…”

“No!” I say, a little too loudly, and he turns back, his grin softening into something quieter.

I move over, making space. The bed is narrow, barely big enough for me, but Jake doesn’t hesitate. He slips beneath the blanket, his body warm and solid beside mine, his arm sliding naturally around my waist—

And then he stills.

His fingers brush my hip, skin over skin, and I feel the slight hitch in his breath. He pulls back just enough to glance down, his hand skimming lower beneath the blanket, like he’s double-checking.

“You’re naked,” he murmurs, voice rough with amusement.

I smile into the pillow. “Don’t own any pajamas.”

Jake exhales a slow, appreciative breath, his fingers sliding over my hip and thigh. “Jesus, Max. You could’ve warned a guy.”

“Would it have made a difference?”

His low chuckle tickles my neck. “Might have gotten into the bed faster.”

“You’re impossible,” I giggle.

He brushes his lips against my temple before he buries his face in my hair. I let out a slow breath, feeling his weight beside me, his warmth sinking into my skin. I’m glad he’s here.

His hand moves absently, fingertips tracing light patterns along my hip, and then his nose skims along my jaw, breath warm against my skin.

I tilt my head, just slightly, inviting him in, and he takes it—his mouth finding the edge of my throat, lips pressing slow, open-mouthed kisses that send heat radiating through me.

I should think twice about this. About what Wyatt said. About letting Jake into my space, into my new, precious life, without knowing what the hell that even means.

But I don’t, because I’m already craving him—even though his cum is still inside me, my body still aching from earlier.

His teeth graze my skin, and my breath hitches. I turn toward him, and his lips find mine, lazy at first, but then his fingers tighten on my waist, and the kiss shifts to something deeper and more urgent.

Before I know it, I’m fumbling with the button of his jeans.

Jake groans against my mouth, his breath ragged, his fingers sliding over my skin, down my hip. “Fuck, Max.” His grip tightens. “You don’t know how fucking desperate I am to be inside you again.”

His words make me whimper as his hands slide between my legs, his fingers stroking me, teasing, building the heat between us until I’m mindless beneath him. I grip his shoulders, my body already lifting into his touch, chasing more.

His kisses move lower, along my jaw, down my throat, like he’s savoring me. His breath is hot against my skin when he murmurs, “You’re so responsive.”

His fingers press deeper, his mouth trailing heat across my collarbone.

“The way you arch for me… fuck .”

I can’t answer—not when his teeth graze skin, not when his touch finds that perfect rhythm again. I gasp, my back lifting from the mattress, and Jake growls, low and pleased.

“You know what drove me crazy?” he murmurs, voice low against my throat.

“Knowing that Damian was right there last night. Listening. Wishing he was the one inside you—while I was the one making you come.” He groans softly, the sound full of hunger.

“I swear, I could feel it, how much he wanted you. Did it turn you on? Knowing he was there?”

The memory floods me. His eyes in the dark. That quiet, muted moan on the other side of the room.

I shudder, my breath catching. “Yeah.”

“Dirty girl.” He drags the blanket off and scoots down to the end of the bed, settling between my legs. “I liked that too. And I want to eat you out again just like I did when he was watching.”

Then his mouth is on me, hot and wet, and I gasp, my fingers fisting into the sheets as his tongue slides over my clit.

I’m gone in minutes, unraveling under his touch, my body trembling as pleasure crashes through me.

“So fucking hot,” he murmurs, kissing his way up my body, his lips trailing heat along my skin.

And then he’s inside me again, stretching me open, filling me deep, and fuck , I should be spent, but I’m not.

I want more.

I dig my nails into his back, wrapping my legs around his waist, pulling him deeper. He groans against my throat, thrusts turning rough and desperate. Losing control, just like I want him to.

And then the pleasure surges again, curling hot and sharp in my core, and I cry out, breaking apart beneath him. Jake follows, gasping my name, his body shuddering against mine.

For a long moment, we stay where we are, just breathing, and then Jake shifts and rolls over behind me, his warm chest rising and falling slowly against my back. The bed is too small, but I don’t care. His warmth feels good. Safe. I don’t want to move.

The silence presses in, thick and absolute, and my instincts prickle to life. We weren’t exactly quiet. And with nothing for miles to distract from any sound…

I flush with embarrassment.

I picture Wyatt upstairs, awake, listening. Arms crossed. Brows knit. That are-you-kidding-me tilt of the head he gave me out in the parking lot.

Did he hear?

I don’t know. But as exhaustion finally drags me under, I can’t shake the feeling that come morning, I’ll find out.

Jake groans, stretching, his lips pressing lazily against my shoulder.