The sharp pain that sliced through her finger had her gasping. She looked at the digit, the thorn having gone through the soft pad of her index finger. She watched the blood well up, that little bead of redness making her transfixed, almost mesmerized.
“Oh, honey.” Abigail, one of the older women who worked at the flower shop part time, handed her a napkin. “Be careful. Roses can be fickle bitches.”
The bell above the door rang, and Abigail went to help the customer. Constance’s mind went to Vengeance again.
Could it be possible to feel that connection with someone so soon? Could the whole insta…whatever, be real? She really wanted to believe it.
She really wanted to believe that being meek and delicate, trying to pretend that life wasn’t about danger and adventure, wasn’t how she should be.
But the thought of Vengeance, the thrill she felt with him, make her believe there was more in this world than she ever thought.
And that was invigorating.
7
He wasn’t some fucking teenager. He was a grown fucking man, and yet Vengeance was nervous. This was the first time he’d actually taken the time to care about going on a date with a woman. The club whores were always there, always available for cock, no matter who you were.
Constance wasn’t anything like those women. Besides the fact she sat near graveyards at night, and not on dicks, when he was with her, he felt something. She was different, but not a weird kind of different, just … different.
Climbing off his bike, he waited for her to come out of her home, and he didn’t have to wait long. There she came, looking ready for a ride. She wore jeans that seemed to mold to every curve of her body.
“Hey,” she said with a hint of a smile on her face. “How are you?”
“I’m doing great.”
“Are you sure you don’t mind coming out here, giving me a ride?”
He had several erotic images of just how good she could ride him. Pushing them to the back of his mind, he simply smiled. “I didn’t mind at all. I wasn’t doing anything.”
She tucked some hair behind her ear, and he reached for his helmet. “No, please. Don’t make me wear that thing. I want to feel the wind in my hair and on my face. I don’t want to be stuffed inside a horrible helmet that has probably seen way too many germs to count.”
“You’re the only one that has worn it,” he said.
Constance frowned. “Huh?”
“I don’t have any bitches at my back when I’m riding. I have the helmet but no one has ever worn it.”
“Wait, you’re telling me no one has been on the back of your bike?”
“No one I care about if we have an accident.” Shit, had he said the wrong thing?
She stared at him, hand on her hip. “You think we’ll have an accident?”
“Nope. I’m damn good and haven’t had an accident in years. However, doesn’t mean there isn’t some asshole drunk who’ll veer into my path, and then let’s say, the rest is history. I’m not willing to take a chance that you could get hurt. Are you?”
He loved it when she tilted her head to the side, and she stared at him. He had to wonder what was going around her brain. The tip of her tongue slid across her lip, and it teased him in more ways than he wanted to imagine.
“I can see your point. Still. This sucks.”
He chuckled.
“I don’t know if I want to go on a ride anymore.”
Now, that simply wouldn’t do.
“Put the damn helmet on. When we get to a spot that I’m happy with, you can take it off until we head back home.”
She gave a little squeal and then placed the helmet firmly on her head.
He hadn’t been lying about the helmet. There hadn’t been a woman on the back of his bike in a long time. He didn’t believe in riding bitches that were not his women. It was just some personal code that he stuck by and refused to back down.
Constance wrapped her arms around his waist and seemed to snuggle in his back. “Where are we going?” she asked.
They were just going to hit the road and not look back. “Try not to be too afraid.”
She wasn’t afraid.
The moment he pulled away from the curb and rode out of town, leaving behind everyone she knew, she felt exhilarated. There was nothing that could stop her or hold her back. No one was going to stare at her with sadness because she had lost someone. There was nothing that she lost or gained here with him.
Vengeance didn’t treat her any differently. She was just a woman to him, and maybe she shouldn’t be okay with that, but she really was.
Pressing her head against his back, she closed her eyes, basking in the feel of being taken away from it all. A white knight was the last thing this man was, but in that moment, it felt like he was.