MAYA
My knuckles were white on the steering wheel as I drove through the darkened streets, the city lights blurring past.
Maya was a goddamn storm in the passenger seat- drunk, furious, and devastatingly beautiful. That tiny black dress had ridden up so high on her thighs it was criminal.
Her skin glowed under the passing streetlights, tear-stains mixing with club makeup on her flushed cheeks. She whimpered softly, turning toward the window and scratching at the glass with her nails like a trapped kitten trying to escape.
“Sit quietly, Maya,” I warned, my voice low and rough, still laced with the rage from the club. Seeing her pressed up against that Jax bastard had unleashed something primal in me. “You’re drunk. Stop acting reckless.”
She glared at me, those glassy eyes fiery even
