Nothing had belonged to him for so long it took him a few minutes to recognize the feeling. Mine. It vibrated up the long length of his spine, the bike rumbling hot and dangerous between his legs. The desire to possess. To own. To have and to hold. He gripped the throttle tighter, his palms slicked with sudden sweat, the need to grab onto something.
He had just left her at the port, another dark mission looming in front of him, a black sky of growing thunderclouds, but his mind was somewhere else entirely. Her mouth. Her lips on his lips. The steel that lined the insides of her bones and let her step right up into him and reach for his mouth with her own mouth. Kiss him in front of God and all his devils. Bold as day and bold women were something that heated him to the core. She had his blood simmering now. For her. The edgy feeling of being ignited by another person's body, being set on fire by another person's flame.
If it had been any other week, a different month, he would have said fuck all to Jax and his kingly decrees and dragged Ally by the wrist, bruises in her white flesh turning red as roses as the day wore on, and pushed her up against the corrugated wall of the building, kissing her until both their lungs were filled with the same air.
He knew his own worth, knew the currency of his life on the open market, and none of this was making sense to him. It surpassed the good-girl-gone-bad routine, the kiss took it out of the realm of a fetish, and the bribe put them on more even footing. What did she want from him. Of him.
And more than that, what did he want from her. For the first time in as a long a time as he could remember, the world smelled fresh, felt new. There was a promise around the edges of his peripheral vision. Something that seemed very much like an alternate road seemed to be opening in front of him. How long could he navigate the bloody tarmac before it took his own life. Not long he figured. He'd seen it in Bobby's face, the fear, he'd seen it in the set of Happy's shoulders, the resignation. He wondered what part of his own demeanor wore the mask of the Reaper.
At the first stop light, he missed the cycle of the signals and the lady in the cage behind him honked. He clocked the rear view on his handlebars, feeling the hair stand on the back of his neck, he was prepared to rip someone apart. But her face was not threatening, she was beeping him back to awareness. Wake up, Filip, wake up. The dream you're dreaming about this woman is only a dream. Bodies were going to fall. Lives ended and ruined. The world would go up in flames if Teller had his druthers. And it would rain ash. He nodded once, then roared through the intersection only to let off the gas and pull the bike over to the shoulder. He brought both booted feet down to the ground, rooting himself back to the earth, to his reality.
He had to get his head back in the game. He breathed through the twist in his guts, the cramping in his mind. He put her out of his thoughts. The long night they had shared, the way she had shut her bedroom door and somehow the world became just him and her and the space between their two bodies. The way in which her flesh clothed her skeleton, the scrape of her teeth, the fluttering of her eyelids, the long moan of his name. All of that had to be cast in darkness now. He breathed out hard, looking far down the road ahead of him.
With a wide banking swoop he was back out in traffic. His lips tasting of her.