Page 16 of Twister’s Salvation (Saint’s Outlaws MC: Madison, WI #1)

Twister

She smelled like vanilla and wind.

Tempi's arms were wrapped tight around my middle, and her cheek rested between my shoulder blades. The city blurred around us as we rumbled down State Street. The buildings on either side were glowing with that soft, sleepy amber from streetlamps and neon signs.

I’d given her my helmet, even though she’d protested, and now her hands were clutched in the front of my cut like her life depended on it. Felt good. Natural. Like she belonged there.

She hadn’t said much since we pulled away from the clubhouse, but she pointed things out with little taps to my shoulder and soft yells over the roar of the engine.

“That building there used to be a theater. Closed down last year.”

“That bakery? Best apple fritters in Madison.”

“Avoid that alley. Smells like puke and regret.”

I laughed more than I thought I would. The shit day I’d had started to bleed away with every block we passed. Every breath of hers against my back. Every time her thighs squeezed tighter when I hit a bump.

We looped around Capitol Square. The gold dome gleamed like a crown in the twilight. She pointed out more spots: a coffee shop with crooked tables, a record store with a basement bar, and the co-op she volunteered at when she was nineteen.

She knew this city like the back of her hand. And I was learning it through her.

We turned onto East Washington, and the air changed. A little grittier, a little more industrial. The buildings grew boxier. Less fancy architecture, more concrete and glass.

I pulled into the cracked lot in front of the warehouse we’d locked down for Saints’ Smash. Killed the engine. Her arms lingered around me.

“You okay, doll?” I asked.

She didn’t let go.

“Just... that was my first ride,”

she said, her voice muffled against my back.

I twisted in the seat and looked at her.

“You telling me I popped your bike cherry?”

She laughed with her cheeks pink.

“You’re such a guy.”

“Damn right.”

I reached behind and gave her thigh a squeeze.

“And you held on real good. Natural, even.”

“I didn’t have a choice,”

she teased.

“You drive like you’re running from the law.”

“Nah. That’s Magnum’s job. I’m the careful one.”

She rolled her eyes and finally slid off the bike. I followed and planted both feet on the pavement. She looked up at the dark warehouse with her arms folded over her chest.

“This is where it’s gonna be?”

she asked.

I nodded.

“Saints’ Smash. Fully operational in six months if the permit gods don’t come after this place next.”

She turned to me.

“That really has to be a misunderstanding.”

I sighed and ran a hand down my face.

“Had an inspector and two cops show up today. I don’t really know how that can be a misunderstanding. Something tells me we pissed off someone we shouldn’t, or it’s Nick and Frank.”

She frowned.

“That sounds like complete and total BS. Maybe they had the wrong building,”

she tried to reason.

“Our address is right on the paper, doll.”

I sighed and cracked my neck.

“But we’ll take care of it.”

She nodded and rubbed her arms when her body shivered just a little. The wind had picked up.

“Cold?” I asked.

“A little. I was good on the bike, being next to you.”

Her cheeks turned red, and she looked back at the warehouse.

“This Wisconsin weather can change on a dime. I should be used to it after all these years.”

I walked to my saddlebag, popped it open, and pulled out the zip-up sweatshirt I kept stashed for longer rides. Black. Worn. Smelled like exhaust and leather. “Here.”

She took it and tugged it on. The sleeves were long on her arms, and she zipped it halfway up. She wrapped her arms around herself and tugged it tight.

“Thank you,”

she murmured.

I stepped closer. “Better?”

“I’ll live,”

she said, though a shiver racked through her.

I wrapped my arms around her and pulled her into my chest. She didn’t resist. In fact, she sank right in. Fit against me like a damn puzzle piece.

Her head rested against my chest. My chin dropped to the top of her head.

“What are we doing, Twister?”

she asked softly.

I tilted my head and pretended not to understand what she was really asking.

“Trying to keep you warm, doll.”

She pulled back just enough to look up at me. Her eyes caught the moonlight and held it.

“No, I mean us. What is this? Part of me thinks you like me, but then there’s another part that thinks this is just...”

“Just what?”

Her voice dropped. “A game.”

My jaw tightened. I slipped a hand under her chin and tilted her face up.

“It’s not a game. I do like you. Hell, Tempi, I think about you way more than I should.”

She blinked.

“You sure?”

I nodded slowly.

“You completely blindsided me. I came to Madison with one goal: set up the Saints. Handle business. You? You weren’t even on the radar. But now...”

“Now?”

“Now I can’t stop thinking about you.”

Her lips parted. Her breath hitched.

I leaned down, and she rose up on her toes.

The kiss hit like a fuse lit.

Soft. Then sharp. Hot. Wild.

Her fingers gripped my cut and yanked me closer. My hands slipped under her shirt, skimming her skin until I found the lacy edge of her bra. I cupped her breast, and she gasped as her hips pressed into mine.

“Fuck,”

I groaned against her mouth.

She moaned and clung tighter.

We broke apart, panting.

Her eyes met mine, dark with need.

“Goddammit, Tempi, you can’t look at me like that. Not here.”

She smirked and kissed me again, this time slower. Deep. Thorough.

“Yeah,”

I muttered when we finally stopped.

“That totally makes up for the shit day I had.”

She giggled and brushed her nose against mine.

“Glad to be of service.”

I tugged her into another hug. Tight. Steadying.

“I should get you home, doll,”

I murmured.

“I should get back to the bar to help Britta,”

she sighed.

“Her brother came over to give her a hand, but he thinks that he’s just hired muscle rather than actually helping her sling drinks.”

“Seems like he has his priorities straight.”

“Men,”

she muttered.

“Take me back to the Badger’s Den, Twister. It’s like I’m Cinderella, and the bar is my pumpkin.”

She stepped back.

“Or maybe your bike is the pumpkin.” She laughed. “Either way, I should get back.”

“Your chariot awaits, doll.”

I helped her onto the bike and got on in front of her.

The ride back through Madison was quieter. The bars were closing. The streets were deserted, but she still clung to me like she didn’t want to let go.

Didn’t help that I didn’t want her to let go either.

The ride ended too soon, and we were back near her bar.

I parked at the curb and left the engine idling.

She slid off and turned to me. I went to get off too, but she stopped me with a hand on my chest.

“I’m going to need you to stay on your bike,” she said.

I cocked my head. “Oh yeah?”

She stepped closer, and I put a hand on her waist.

“You get off that bike, and I won’t be able to keep my hands off you. And as much as I think I’d like being an exhibitionist with letting you have your way with me right here or in the bar, I don’t think I will.”

I chuckled.

“Am I supposed to know what the hell you’re talking about?”

She grinned and pressed a kiss to my lips.

“I’m rambling. See you later?”

I cupped her cheek.

“You’ll see me tomorrow, doll. Promise.”

She nodded, and her eyes were soft. “Later.”

She stepped into the bar, and the second the door shut, I heard a cheer go up inside.

I shook my head, chuckled, and revved the bike.

As I pulled away from the curb, one thought echoed loud and clear: I was totally and completely gone.

And I didn’t hate it.