Page 41 of Tinsel & Chrome

Something about the way he says it makes my pulse skip. My eyes flick to his hands—strong, scarred, steady. He’s not taunting me, not really. He’s giving me an outlet. And dammit, I need one.

“Fine,” I say, stepping closer. “But don’t cry when I break your nose.”

His grin widens. “That’s the spirit.”

I throw the first punch, aiming for his smug face. He sidesteps easily, catching my wrist and twisting me just enough to throw me off balance. I recover quickly, aiming a jab at his ribs, but he blocks it, his palm brushing against my knuckles.

“You’re pulling your punches,” he says, his breath warm against my ear. “Afraid to hurt me?”

I grit my teeth, frustration boiling over. “Not in the slightest.”

This time, I go for his jaw, putting everything I have into the punch. He catches my arm again, but instead of twisting, he uses the momentum to pull me off balance. I stumble, and before Iknow it, I’m pinned against the wall, his body pressing against mine.

The air shifts. The playful banter is gone, replaced by something darker, heavier. His hands are on my wrists, holding me in place, but his grip isn’t bruising. It’s firm, controlled. I can feel his heartbeat, steady and strong, matching the heat in his gaze.

“Still think you don’t need saving?” he murmurs, his voice low and rough.

I glare at him, refusing to back down. “I think you like pretending I’m weaker than I am.”

His lips twitch, but there’s no smirk this time. “I know exactly how strong you are, Larissa. That’s the problem.”

For a moment, I forget how to breathe. The weight of his words, the way he’s looking at me—like he sees every jagged piece of me and doesn’t care if they cut him—makes my chest tighten.

I shove at him, and to my surprise, he lets me go. I take a step back, trying to steady my racing pulse. “You don’t know me, Tex. Not anymore.”

“Maybe not,” he says, his gaze never leaving mine. “But I’m willing to learn.”

And just like that, he turns and walks out, leaving me standing there, breathless and furious—and maybe just a little intrigued.

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Chapter Four

Tex

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I leave the gym, my jaw tight, hands clenching and unclenching like I need to hit something. Or someone.Her ex, preferably.

Larissa thinks I’m pushing her because I doubt her strength. She couldn’t be more wrong. I push her because I know how much fire she’s got locked up inside. And maybe because, deep down, I want to be the one she burns.

The cold air outside bites at my skin, but it does nothing to chill the heat still coiled in my gut. I take a drag off a cigarette, the smoke filling my lungs, but the tension doesn’t ease.

She’s back, and she’s as reckless as ever. Maybe more.

I head to the bar in the main room of the clubhouse. The place is alive with noise—the low rumble of conversation, the occasional burst of laughter, and the ever-present hum of rock music on the jukebox. A few of the guys nod as I pass, but I’m not in the mood for small talk.

I need a drink.

I pour a shot of whiskey and toss it back, the burn barely registering. I’m halfway through pouring another when a voice interrupts.

“Drinking alone?” Mace leans against the bar, eyes sharp and unreadable. He’s got that big-brother vibe going strong, like he’s seconds away from punching someone just for looking at Larissa wrong.

“Not for long,” I mutter, setting the bottle down. “What do you want, Mace?”

“Want to know what the hell you’re doing.” His tone is flat, but there’s a threat behind it. “With her.”

I snort. “Protecting her. Same as you.”