Page 28 of Indie
“Yeah, well, I guess I’d catch you after you finish work.”
“How do you know I finish work at this time?”
Indie looked over my shoulder pointedly into the empty street.
“I have had people watching you 24/7, remember? Realised you were on night shift this week when I didn’t see you at the hospital and then my guys said you weren’t coming home till the early hours. I can go?”
No. I didn’t want that, no matter how stalkery that all sounded right now. I’d never been one to make good decisions. I cocked my head, stepping forward and pushing my key into the lock, and nudging the bottom of the swollen door with my foot.
The light inside the hallway snapped on, spilling out over the step outside, lighting up Indie’s features as I turned slightly, just inside the doorway. His greying hair was brushed to the side as usual, a couple of strands at the front knocked out of place. The cleft on his chin was visible again, his face almost freshly shaved, as fresh as the smell of him. The light caught on something in his hands, something I’d not seen in the shadows. He smiled at me with a lopsided grin, but with the hint of nervousness on his face, and then shrugged, pushing the bunch of flowers towards me.
“I don’t know if you like flowers, but anyway, I just wanted to say thank you for looking after me the other night.”
He shrugged again, as if he was expecting some sort of rejection. The bunch of flowers suspended between us. I stared at them, at the mix of pinks and whites, of lilies and chrysanthemums. And roses. The same mix and colours as Gaz used to buy for me. After he’d struck me for the first time. After he split my lip for the first time. After he blacked my eye for the first time. Then the flowers stopped coming, but the beatings didn’t. And there were no flowers the first time he broke my nose, or after he knocked me unconscious, or when he split my lip open the second and third times.
Indie winced, sensing my reluctance, and I sensed his disappointment.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you.”
“You didn’t, Indie. I’m just not used to flowers as a nice gesture, that’s all.”
He cocked his head sideways, and I could see the question poised on his lips. A question I didn’t want to answer.
“Thank you. They’re lovely,” I whispered, the words sticking in my throat. “Come in.”
He followed behind me, forcing the swollen door back into its frame, locking us out of the fading shadows, dawn breaking over the east. I moved to the sink, rummaging underneath for a worn vase.
“What you did for me the other night, Emmie. I really appreciate it. I couldn’t have let any of the club see me like that.”
His voice came from behind me.
“Why?” I asked, turning tentatively, because every time I was this close to him, something happened to me.
“Because it’s just not what we do.”
“Again, why?”
“Because of my rank.”
“Rank. I thought it was a bike club? That sounds more like the army.”
His face flickered, a flash of darkness crossing his eyes.
“Vice President,” he answered. “And with my father on his death bed, right now I’m more or less the president.”
I stared at him, not following.
“I don’t get why that means you can’t show emotion when your own father’s dying?”
Those words were so much harsher than I’d intended, tiredness and confusion a stubborn cocktail. Indie frowned slightly, a battle going on behind his brown eyes. But instead of answering my question, he stepped forward, pushing his hand behind my head, his fingers entangling into my hair and the next thing I knew, his lips were over mine. Moving against me, softly at first, a tentative flick of his tongue teasing at my flesh. And for a moment, I froze, unable to really process what was going on. Or why he would suddenly kiss me.
His lips were careful, moving against me slowly and gently, waiting for me. Waiting for me to pull away or join in. I should pull away. Make a sensible choice for once in my life. But why change a habit now? And so, I parted my lips, feeling the tip of his tongue stroke across mine, and his hand tighten against the back of my head. I kissed him back. Slowly, to match his pace. Tentatively, to match his caution. Waiting.
He stepped in closer, a little nudge backwards, jamming my back against the edge of the sink. I exhaled, my mouth opening just that bit more, and his tongue immediately stole the space. And now the kiss was urgent. Strong lips plucking mine, his tongue pushing in and out of my mouth as mine struggled to keep up with him. His other hand cupped my head, pulling me closer. No means to escape. But I didn’t want to escape. I wanted more. More of the surging heat rushing my body, filling every part of me from my toes to my finger ends. A pulsing, sudden need. A feeling that was only a faint memory, flooding my brain like a flashback.
I closed my eyes, relishing. My own hands snaking around his waist, feeling for the edge of the leather jacket and sneaking my fingertips underneath. His lips still moved against me, the movement of his tongue bringing my insides to boiling point, and I pushed my hands under his jacket a little more. His stomach was hard underneath, as I knew it would be after I’d seen what I had the other morning. He stilled suddenly, his tongue drawing back, but his lips still touching mine.
“Steady little Spuggy,” he warned, breathing against my mouth, stilling my hands that were peeling up his t-shirt, working my way towards his bare flesh. “Don’t make me lose control, please?” He rasped, sucking against my bottom lip and making my legs instantly jelly.