His lips pulled back from his perfect white teeth in a snarl. “Did you just knock the fucking breath out of me?”
“Yep. Don’t freak out, I’ve done it to my dad before when he was losing his shit.” He stared at me and I tried a different approach and gestured towards Erica. “It’s okay. I work in a titty bar. This is nothing I don’t see every day.”
He shook his head, his lips tight as he said, “You don’t understand …” I waited for him to finish his sentence, but he merely shook his head and stepped away. “Come on. We need to hit the road.”
I gave Erica a quick goodbye, slightly disturbed by the way she remained kneeling with her gaze lowered, then followed Smoke out the front door. He didn’t say goodbye to Cups, but I suppose that was better than beating the other man up. Smoke seemed to have anger management issues and that thought disturbed me. So far he’d managed to keep his cool, but what would it be like when he lost it on someone instead of a chair like he had at that place where I’d been held hostage? Something told me that if I was around him long enough I’d eventually see him lose it on a person, not on me of course, and the prospect scared me. There was a potential for violence that seemed to surround Smoke and I found myself both attracted to and repulsed by it.
With these confusing thoughts churning through my head I scarcely paid attention when we drove up to a small gas station off a long, deserted road. As we roared up, an older man with muttonchops strolled out from the garage, wiping his greasy hands on an equally greasy rag. Smoke told me to go inside and get water for both of us, and by the time I returned, the other man was gone and Smoke was resting against the side of his bike, texting someone.
I handed him the water and he took it with a soft thanks, still concentrating on his phone. Left standing there beneath the shade of the gas pump awning, I took off my pack and stretched, opening my blue blouse and stripping it off. That caught Smoke’s attention and he shoved the phone into his pocket before he got some sunblock out of one of his saddlebags. I stayed still as he applied the sunblock to my freckled shoulders and upper chest, neither of us saying a word while he tended to me. The more he touched me the more I melted until I was sagging against him as he rubbed the lotion onto my left arm.
The tension had fully left Smoke by now, and I chewed my lip before asking, “So, are you into that stuff?”
“What stuff?”
“You know, that Master/slave stuff.”
“Nope.”
I was strangely disappointed. “Oh.”
He seemed genuinely puzzled. “Why? Are you into a Master/slave relationship?”
“What? No. The thought of being a slave doesn’t do it for me.”
With a rueful smile tightening the fine lines around his eyes, Smoke handed me my helmet. “You love having these conversations with me where I can’t properly reply to them, don’t you? Think on this. I don’t enjoy the Master/slave thing, but I love a Dominant/submissive relationship. There’s a difference. Come on. We’ve got one more stop. We’ll grab a late lunch while we’re there.”
My mind whirled around his words, and I wondered what the difference was.
I groaned as I straddled the bike again, automatically wrapping my arms around him. It was hot enough now that I was sweating where I was pressed up against him, but I didn’t mind. In a very weird way, I liked the idea of my sweat on his leather vest—like I was marking him or something. Even I had to laugh at the absurdity of that statement; I was glad the noise was muffled by the helmet and the rushing wind.
Chapter 6
After another pleasant meal and two cold beers with Smoke at an outdoor barbecue place, I was feeling rather good. He could be really, really charming when he wanted to be, and I couldn’t help but feel like he paid extra special attention to me. It helped that he seemed oblivious to other women. There was a pretty cougar at the bar who kept giving Smoke ‘fuck me’ eyes but he never looked at her, not once. His attention was entirely on me, and I tried not to fidget beneath his scrutiny even as it kind of made me want to preen.
Something about the way he concentrated on me made me feel strangely confident, and I tried to keep myself from overanalyzing it. Maybe this feeling was why people dated each other. I hadn’t felt it with my previous boyfriend, but it was as if Smoke’s attention was as palpable as a physical touch. God, I was helpless against him. If he told me to drop my panties, those fuckers would be on the floor before he could blink.
“You tan pretty well for a white girl,” he said in a low voice as I finished off my last rib.