I Provoke
1108 Words
Alex:
The door slammed behind me, hard enough to rattle the glass. I didn’t give a damn.
Let them stare. Let them talk. Let them choke on their own assumptions.
My boots hit the pavement like thunder, every step scraping sparks up my spine. The sun was too f*****g bright. My skin itched under my cut, my teeth grinding with the taste of copper and smoke from too many words swallowed back.
They didn’t get it.
Didn’t get me.
They never f*****g did.
I fired up my bike with a snarl that felt like it came from inside me. My fingers curled around the throttle like I wanted it to snap.
I didn’t know where I was going.
Correction: I didn’t care.
Anywhere but here. Anywhere that didn’t smell like syrup and judgment. Anywhere I didn’t have to sit in that booth and pretend I wasn’t fraying at the seams, all because of one goddamn cop with bedroom eyes and a conscience sharp enough to cut through bone.
My engine screamed through the streets. I let her.
The wind peeled back the noise in my head until all that was left was instinct. Heat. Anger. That delicious, terrible sense of not being in control.
And then I saw him.
Cruiser. Left lane. Red light.
Right place, wrong time, for him.
I didn’t hesitate.
I swerved up beside him like I belonged there, leaned on one hip, and let my boot knock against the side of his door. Not a kick. Not a warning. Just a reminder.
I’m here.
And you saw me.
His head turned. Slowly. Controlled.
I smirked.
Then I twisted the throttle and blew through the light.
He followed.
Fucking knew he would.
He always followed.
Maybe it was the badge in his blood. Maybe it was that golden retriever heart of his trying to chase the girl with fangs. Or maybe he just wanted another taste of what he kissed last night but couldn’t keep.
Either way, he tailed me like a shadow through the back roads, away from the center of town, past the edge of the MC territory.
No sirens. No lights. No radio chatter.
Just him. Me. And the empty stretch of highway leading toward the bones of an old gas station that hadn’t pumped a drop of fuel since I was fifteen.
I cut the engine and waited.
No helmet. No gloves.
Just the thrum in my chest and the ache in my jaw from holding back everything I wanted to scream.
His cruiser rolled up slow. Careful.
He didn’t get out right away. Smart.
But I was already stalking toward him, chain on my hip swinging like a threat, dust curling around my boots.
When he finally stepped out, he looked too clean for the mess we were about to make.
Blue shirt. Dark pants. Hands low like he didn’t want to spook me, but his eyes?
His eyes were already tangled in mine.
“Alex.” His voice was rough. Raw. “What the hell are you doing?”
I tilted my head. “You followed, Luke. Don’t ask questions if you’re not ready for the answers.”
The air stretched thin between us.
Not soft. Not sweet.
It crackled. Warped. Bent around the space we shared like it wanted to collapse entirely.
He took a step forward.
I took two.
“You think you know something about me?” I said, my voice low. Dangerous. “You kissed me like you wanted to fix something.”
“I didn’t...”
“Don’t lie to me.” I stepped up into his space, so close I could feel his pulse. “You think I’m some broken girl in a leather cut that just needs saving? Think again. I don’t need anything.”
“You kissed me.”
I laughed. Harsh. Bitter. “Don’t confuse reaction with affection, Officer.”
He flinched.
Good.
I pushed him. Hard.
Flat palms against that stupid starched shirt. His back hit the cruiser door with a metallic thud, but he didn’t push me off.
He just stood there. Breathing hard. Jaw clenched.
My hands flattened against his chest, and I could feel his heart beneath my palms.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
Faster than it should’ve been.
“You’re scared,” I whispered.
“I’m not scared of you.”
“No?” I slid my hands lower, dragging over his sternum, down to his belt. “Then why’s your heart racing, Luke?”
He caught my wrists.
But not hard enough to stop me.
Just enough to remind me that he was still here. Still fighting.
Still trying.
“Because I don’t know what the f**k this is,” he ground out. “Because you make me feel like I’m unraveling every time you look at me.”
I smiled. Slowly. Cruelly.
Then I leaned in, lips brushing his like a whisper.
“You are unraveling.”
And I kissed him.
This wasn’t like last night. This was heat and teeth and a war neither of us could win. My fingers fisted in his shirt, pulling him closer even as my mind screamed at me to stop.
But I couldn’t.
Wouldn’t.
He kissed me back like he wanted to drown. Like I was the last breath before the flood.
And I let him.
Until I didn’t.
I broke the kiss.
Slow. Deliberate.
Then pulled the blade from the small of my back.
He froze. Instinct kicking in.
I didn’t point it at him. Didn’t threaten.
Just let the tip drag lightly down the center of his chest, slicing the fabric open.
Button by button.
Slow. Measured.
The metal kissed his skin, not enough to cut, just enough to feel.
“You feel that?” I asked.
His breath hitched. “Yeah.”
“That’s control.”
He didn’t move.
Didn’t flinch.
But his hands were curled into fists at his sides, and his pupils were blown wide with something darker than want.
I leaned in close, lips at his ear.
“I don’t like you, Luke.”
“I know.”
I dragged the knife down one more inch, just to hear his breath catch.
“But I want you to want me.”
Silence.
Then, finally, he said it.
“I already do.”
I stepped back.
Sheathed the knife.
And for a long, sharp moment, we just stared at each other in the dead heat of that abandoned place, surrounded by ghosts and gas fumes and everything we weren’t allowed to feel.
No one said a word.
Because there was nothing left to say.
Only war.
And it had already started.
- Writer
