Behind the Lyrics by Melissa Riddell
Chapter 25
Angela Morales
I couldn’t believe I’d been about to let him do…that. What the hell had I been thinking?
Hugging myself to his back, the scent of him surrounding me in the jacket he’d insisted I wear on the ride to get my truck, I knew exactly what I’d been thinking. Nothing.
As much I enjoyed his company and the tenuous connection we shared, Viktor Farrow brought a ton of complications into my simple, yet orderly, life. In a matter of two days, he’d managed to turn my world upside down, and I needed time to settle myself and soothe the ball of nerves twisting in my stomach.
Once he pulled into the station’s parking lot, he cut the motor and helped me off, giving my truck a glare. “I’m going to follow you home, just to make sure that thing doesn’t fly apart.”
“Hey, I’ll have you know this thing might look ugly, but it’s stout.” I smacked the hood and several pieces of rust fell to the pavement. “They don’t make ’em like this anymore.”
“I should hope not.” He tore his attention from my vehicle and lifted a lock of my hair. Rubbing it between his index finger and thumb, he leaned in and inhaled. “But please humor me. I promise to stay on my ride and not encroach upon Marky’s territory. I won’t be able to sleep tonight, otherwise.”
I nodded, unable to say anything. Emotion choked at the back of my throat. When was the last time someone truly cared about my safety? Not as a friend, like Terri or Johnny, but in an intimate way? I can’t remember.
After unlocking the truck, I slid inside, and Viktor shoved at the door. It creaked and groaned then froze. “Hold on.” I grabbed the can of WD-40 I kept under the seat and squirted the inner troublemaker hinge.
Viktor’s upper lip curled into a deep sneer, and his mouth tightened. “Should I see if I have some duct tape in my saddle bags, too?”
“Hey, don’t be hating on Rusty. He’s been good to me.” Now lubricated, I pulled the door closed with a clang. “On the outside, he might look rough, but underneath, where it counts, he’s strong and dependable.”
He rolled his eyes and sighed then leaned his head through the open window, his mouth an inch from my cheek. “Don’t forget what I said, Love. If you need anything, you know how to get ahold of me. We’ll be wrapping up the album in a week or so then heading back to England for the start of the tour. If you change your mind about joining me…” He brushed his lips over my cheek, and I shivered.
“Ha.” I cleared my throat and gripped the steering wheel. “Some of us have real jobs, you know, and can’t afford to just up and leave.” I grinned to soften my words then locked my stare on those lips. They were definitely soft.
“May I give you a good-night kiss, at least, since it may be a while before I see you again?”
“Yes,” I whispered.
Our lips met in a lingering, slow dance. His whiskers scratched my chin, sending shocks of pleasure to prickle my scalp. He slid a hand along my jaw, broke contact with my mouth, then leaned toward my ear. “Don’t forget me while I’m gone.”
“Never,” I breathed. And it was true. Someone like Viktor Farrow insisted—no, demanded—one’s full attention. He was a larger-than-life deity who’d take my heart prisoner if I let him.
He followed me all the way to the apartment and sat in the parking lot on the idling Harley until I unlocked the front door and gave a little wave from the second-story railing.
I think he might’ve winked, but it was hard to tell in the dark. He blew me a kiss and roared away as if he’d never been there in the first place.