Page 29 of Tinsel & Chrome
Larissa
The scent of blood and smoke still clings to my clothes as I follow Tex through the clubhouse doors. My knuckles ache, my ribs throb, but I’ve never felt more alive. The rush of the fight still pulses in my veins, and the satisfaction of seeing the Hell Reapers broken and bleeding leaves a vicious, primal joy in my chest.
I glance over at Tex. His jaw is tight, the muscles ticking like he’s barely holding something back. He hasn’t let go of my hand since we left the truck yard. I don’t mind. His grip is firm, steadying, the only thing anchoring me to the here and now.
Cyclops and Mace step in behind us, the door slamming shut with a finality that echoes through the room. The rest of the club filters in, murmurs of satisfaction and relief filling the air. The Reapers got the message loud and fucking clear: The Merciless Few don’t forgive, and they sure as hell don’t forget.
I pull off my leather vest, the adrenaline starting to wear off, replaced by a bone-deep exhaustion. But before I can take two steps toward the bar, Tex tugs me back, spinning me to face him.
His eyes blaze with something dangerous.
“What the hell was that back there?”
I blink, confusion flickering through me.
“What do you mean?”
He steps closer, the heat of his body radiating into mine.
“Charging at Viper like that. You could’ve gotten yourself killed, Larissa.”
I set my jaw.
“I had it under control.”
“No, you didn’t.”
His voice is low, rough, each word a barely restrained snarl.
“You think I can watch you put yourself in danger and just stand by? You think I can just let that happen?”
I pull my hand free of his grip, my own anger rising.
“I don’t need you to let me do anything, Tex. I’ve been fighting my own battles my whole damn life.”
He runs a hand through his hair, frustration carved into every line of his face.
“Damn it, Larissa. I know you’re tough, but this isn’t just about you anymore.”
My breath catches, the meaning behind his words wrapping around my heart like a fist. This isn’t just about me. It’s about us — whatever the hell that means.
The room around us fades, the noise, the club, the rest of the world dissolving until it’s just Tex and me, locked in a silent standoff. His eyes soften, and he reaches out, his fingertips brushing the side of my bruised cheek.
“I can’t lose you,”
he murmurs.
Something inside me cracks, the walls I’ve been holding up threatening to shatter. I close my eyes, the fight draining out of me.
“I don’t want to lose you either.”
His hand slides to the back of my neck, pulling me gently toward him. When his lips meet mine, it’s not the hard, desperate clash of earlier. It’s slow, deliberate, the kind of kiss that feels like a promise. A claim. The heat between us smolders, building steadily until it threatens to burn out of control.
I curl my fingers into his shirt, needing more, needing him. He groans softly, his other hand gripping my waist, pulling me flush against him. The hardness of his body, the steady beat of his heart, everything about him makes me feel safe and wild all at once.
Someone clears their throat behind us.
We break apart, breathing hard. I glance over Tex’s shoulder to see Mace leaning against the bar, arms crossed, a scowl on his face.
“Really?”
Mace drawls.
“You two want to get a room, or should we all just leave?”
Tex smirks, his hand still on my waist. “Jealous?”
Mace’s eyes narrow.
“More like disgusted.”
Cyclops steps up beside him, his gaze cutting between the two of us. His jaw is tight, but there’s something else in his eye — something that almost looks like approval. He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose.
“Tex,”
Cyclops says, his voice gravelly, “you take care of my daughter, or I’ll gut you myself.”
Tex’s fingers tighten on me.
“You don’t have to worry about that.”
Cyclops nods, his gaze softening as it lands on me.
“You’re back where you belong, Larissa. Don’t forget that.”
My throat tightens, and I swallow hard. “I won’t.”
Cyclops claps Tex on the shoulder, then heads toward his office, Mace following with one last glare in our direction.
I exhale, tension draining from my body. Tex chuckles, the sound low and rich.
“Well, that went better than I expected.”
I arch a brow.
“You thought my dad was going to shoot you?”
He grins.
“Wouldn’t be the first time someone’s pointed a gun at me over a woman.”
I roll my eyes, but a smile tugs at my lips. “Come on,”
I say, grabbing his hand.
“Let’s get out of here.”
“Where to?”
I lean in close, my lips brushing his ear.
“Somewhere you can finish what you started.”
His eyes darken, a predatory heat flaring in their depths.
“Careful, princess. I might not let you leave the bed for days.”
I smirk.
“That’s the idea.”
He doesn’t wait for me to say anything else. He grabs my hand, leading me through the clubhouse and out the door. The cold air hits me, sharp and biting, but I don’t feel it.
Not when Tex’s heat wraps around me, pulling me into the kind of chaos I crave.
The kind I know we’ll survive.
Together.