Chapter-63
There were times it wasn’t all fun and games, though. The dangers of a club's lifestyle were real. There were fights, drugs, the occasional gunshot between Dad's charter and rival clubs, and Torin, the devil with the heart of gold, was in the thick of it all.
As the months went on, I grew up fast. I started to filling out in ways that made the older guys look twice. Torin noticed the change too, his glances lingered a little longer, his touches became a bit more deliberate. Yet, despite my desire that he would, he never stepped over the line.
One night, after a particularly nasty run-in with a rival gang, Torin sat me down on an old crate in the garage, his eyes dark and serious. “You care about me, right?” he’d asked, his voice gravelly with exhaustion.
I’d nodded. "Of course," I'd murmured, wondering where he was going with his question.
Letting out a sigh, Torin stated, "Just don't put me on a pedistal Princess. I'll only let you down."
But I'd known he never would. And the day I turned fifteen, he handed me the keys to a beat-up old bike, the kind you’d expect to see in a museum rather than on the open road. “It’s all yours,” he’d told me gruffly," following the words with a smirked, "and you’ve got some work ahead of you Princess to make it road worthy."
I set about restoring that bike, putting every ounce of love and sweat into it that I had. And when it was finally ready, with a fresh coat of paint gleaming under the garage lights, I knew Torin would be as proud of me as I was.
The first time I revved the engine on the bike to hit the road, Torin set with me on his own. His hand had rested on my bike's handlebars, keeping it steady until I found my balance. And when I finally took off, the wind in my hair and the roar of the engine in my ears, he was right beside me.
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Time passed and as I grew older, the lines between Torin and myself became more defined. He was a full-fledged member now, with responsibilities and a reputation to uphold and I was still too young to gain the type of attention I wanted from him, but I was a young woman coming into my own.
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More time ticked by, and in the months leading up to my sixteenth birthday, Torin taught me to shoot, to fight, and to read the road like it was an open book. The only thing he hadn't taught me was how to make him want me.
~~
Finally the night of my birthday arrived and the garage was alive with the sound of laughter and the smell of grilled meat. The guys had thrown a party for me, and I strutted into the celebration, wearing a tight t-shirt and a pair of short-shorts.
I’d changed a lot since those first awkward days at fourteen. The braces had been replaced by a confident smile. My hair was still wild, but it had a purposeful look to it now—like tamed the chaos. I’d begun carrying myself differently, and my newly flared hips, now held a swing they hadn't before.
Torin, who had been leaning against a wall, handed me a pepsi, his eyes flicking over me, and lingering a bit over my breasts. “Happy Birthday, Princess” he said, his voice holding a hoarseness I'd never heard in it before.
“Thanks,” I replied, raising my pop can in a toast. Torin clinked his drink against mine, his gaze never wavering.
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