Never Enough: The Vipers MC Read Online Free PDF Page B

between us again. I took the opportunity to look at him, while his head was tilted away from mine. I longed to touch him. Being so close to him again, it all came rushing back. I remembered our first kiss, out behind the high school. How old was I then? Sixteen? My whole world had changed in that moment. He wasn’t the first boy I’d ever kissed, but he might as well have been. I’d never felt anything like it before, and hadn’t since.
     
    I remembered the way his hair had felt under my hands, hair that still looked as golden blonde, thick, soft. I used to run my hands through it all the time, even when we weren’t kissing or doing anything else. I loved touching it. Touching him.
     
    And the first time we made love. My heart skipped a beat at the memory. How scared I’d been—he was my first. I knew I loved him even then. I’d sneaked him into my bedroom, my parents already in bed, and we’d strained to stay quiet so we didn’t wake them up. It wasn’t easy. I had wanted to scream, shout, let the world know how incredible it felt. How incredible he felt. It was everything I’d imagined it would be—maybe a little painful at first, but beautiful. Bigger than him or me. It was us, together. I knew then and there I’d never want anybody else. When he held me in his arms, as I shivered and cried a little afterward, he’d soothed and stroked me until I relaxed. It might have been even more beautiful than the act itself. Absolutely breathtaking.
     
    It hadn’t been easy to cut myself off from him, no matter what he thought. I couldn’t have talked it out with him. I had to run away. Otherwise, he would have talked me into staying with him—it wouldn’t have been difficult, either. I loved him so much. It had torn my heart out to walk away from our life together, as miserable as I had been from time to time. As scared as I’d been that he might never come home after a fight. When he’d come home with blood all over his shirt, kutte, fists—blood that wasn’t his—I’d known I was time for me to go. I’d left two days later, only the issue of finding a place to stay holding me back from leaving the morning after that horrible night.
     
    I couldn’t ignore the way my heart swelled, just being so close to him. The way my hands twitched, wanting to shoot out to tangle themselves in his hair, to grip his shoulders and stroke his stubbled cheeks. I almost couldn’t stand it. I needed to leave before I did anything I’d regret.
     
    The only problem was he wouldn’t let me leave until I gave him the information he wanted. He wanted to know who threatened me. I didn’t want to tell him, naturally—it would mean admitting what a mess I’d made of things. I didn’t want him to think I needed him. I didn’t.
     
    Or so I told myself.
     
    “Why are you so damned stubborn? Why not tell me what’s going on with you? If you’re in trouble, I wanna help you.”
     
    “Why? I thought you hated me.”
     
    “Call it nostalgia.” He grinned. “I have a soft spot for women who fuck me over and leave me hanging.”
     
    “You’ve been studying poetry while we’ve been apart. That’s nice.” He smirked.
     
    “Stop playing around. Tell me.” His voice was softer than it had been earlier—he knew how to get through to me, and it wasn’t by talking to me like a naughty child. It was tempting, the thought of handing my problems over to him. He could take care of me. From the looks of his apartment, he had plenty of money.
     
    I chewed the inside of my mouth, debating. What would it hurt? I was a mess. He might as well know it.
     
    “He was a leg breaker.”
     
    “What did you do?” He nearly leaped to his feet. “Tell me you didn’t get mixed up with a loan shark.”
     
    “What do you think?”
     
    “Jess! Holy fuck! Remember what happened to Little Bill?” I remembered all too well. They’d called him Little Bill because he was the smallest guy in the club. Sort of the club mascot,