Renegade Riders; Forbidden Desire

Chapter 6

The moment I stepped inside, the smell hit me, sawdust, varnish, and something distinctly Rouger. My pulse jumped, and I froze just inside the doorway. The Victorian felt too quiet, almost too still, like it was holding its breath along with me.

“Mel,” a low growl murmured from the hallway. My stomach clenched, nerves alight, and I turned. He was leaning casually against the doorway, arms crossed, the light catching the sweep of his tattoos and the edge of his lip ring. Dishwater-blond hair fell into his eyes, just enough to make my pulse spike.

I swallowed, trying to steady my shaking hands. “Rouger,” I said softly, trying for casual. Failed.

“You’re home late,” he said, voice even but loaded. He stepped forward, filling the narrow hallway with his presence. I felt it in my bones; the heat, the tension, the weight of him closing in.

“The date ran late,” I replied, forcing a neutral tone. I didn’t mention Braden, didn’t need to. Rouger didn’t need details; he always noticed what wasn’t said anyway.

His gaze sharpened. “That so?” The words sounded like a warning. My stomach clenched again.

“Yeah.” I averted my eyes, pretending to examine the Victorian’s half-finished walls, the exposed studs, the peeling wallpaper. Anything but him.

Rouger didn’t move closer, not yet, but his presence was suffocating. The kind of suffocation that made your body betray you with warmth in the wrong places. I could feel it; my chest tightening, my pulse hammering, my mind spinning.

Silence stretched between us, thick and charged, the kind that made your skin prickle and your heartbeat echo in your ears. My fingers itched to reach out, to brush the edge of his arm, to feel him close, and I cursed myself for thinking it.

“Sit,” he said finally, nodding toward the old leather armchair that had been shoved to the corner of the living room. I hesitated. The room was half-empty, half-demolished, and every plank of wood and strip of wallpaper reminded me of him. Of us.

I obeyed, moving slowly, feeling the weight of his gaze follow my every motion. The chair felt stiff and unfamiliar, but my body couldn’t relax. Every nerve ending was tuned to him.

He leaned against the frame of the doorway again, arms crossed, watching me like he could read my thoughts. “You think you can play around, don’t think about me, go out with some guy and come home pretending everything’s normal?” His voice was calm, but cutting.

I didn’t ask for this, I wanted to say. I didn’t mean to, Rouger. But my mouth stayed shut. Words would betray me. Actions would betray me more.

“I wasn’t pretending,” I said instead, quiet, careful. Liar, my chest added, thumping painfully.

His eyes narrowed. “You were. You always do.” The corner of his mouth lifted in the faintest smirk, the one that made my pulse stutter. “Mel, I can feel it. Every glance, every breath you take, it’s all me you’re thinking about.”

I flinched but didn’t look away. “You don’t know that,” I muttered.

“I do,” he said, voice low and certain, stepping closer until I could smell him. Leather, sawdust, something uniquely Rouger. My body betrayed me instantly, heat pooling in my chest. “And you’re lying to yourself if you think otherwise.”

I gritted my teeth, leaning back slightly in the chair, though it did little to lessen the tension. “I’m not lying. I’m…thinking about other things. About life. About work. About...”

“You think you can distract yourself with work, with other people, with safe choices?” His voice rose slightly, heated now. “You think that keeps you sane? Keeps me out of your head?”

I swallowed, breath catching. He was too close.

His presence filled the room, pressed against me like the air itself had weight. “Maybe it’s supposed to,” I said softly, my voice almost lost in the tension.

He stepped back a fraction, giving me the space I needed to breathe, but not enough to ease the pressure building between us.

“Maybe,” he said, low, almost grudging. “But it doesn’t work. And you know it.”

The room was silent except for the distant creak of floorboards and the faint hum of the city outside. Every second stretched out, slow, deliberate, charged. I could feel the heat of him, the danger, the pull I couldn’t fight.

“I shouldn’t be here,” he finally said, voice rough, almost pained. “I shouldn’t be standing in your house, feeling like this, watching you…” He shook his head, exhaling slowly. “But I can’t leave you alone either.”

I blinked, words stuck in my throat. My fingers curled into my lap, nails biting into my palms. “Rouger…”

“Don’t,” he said, cutting me off gently, firmly, but not unkindly. “Don’t start anything because we can’t….” His words hung in the air, unfinished, heavy with all the desire neither of us could act on.

I swallowed, heart hammering. “I know that,” I whispered, and that was true. Every nerve, every thought, every inch of me wanted him, but fear, rules, and reason kept me tethered.

He let out a long, slow breath, running a hand down the back of his neck, muscles bunching beneath his T-shirt. The motion should have been mundane, but the heat radiating off him made my skin prickle. I couldn’t decide whether to curse him or thank him for existing.

“Mel,” he said, voice softer now, almost a growl wrapped in frustration. “You’ve got to stop looking at me like that. Every time I catch you, it’s like…like I can’t breathe. Like I’m already gone.”

I swallowed hard, heart hammering against my ribs. “I can’t help it,” I whispered. “I…don’t know how.”

He stepped closer again, slow, deliberate, each movement measured like a predator testing the distance before it strikes. I could smell him; sawdust, leather, and something darkly Rouger, and my body betrayed me, heat pooling low in my stomach, breath catching at every inch of space between us.

“I know,” he murmured, voice rough, eyes holding mine like he could see every thought inside me. “And it kills me.”

A shiver ran down my spine. “Rouger…” I breathed, not daring to finish the sentence, not daring to give him the key he’d been tempting me with all evening.

He exhaled sharply, frustration etched into the line of his jaw. “Damn it, Mel. Every time I think I can keep my distance, you do this.”

His fingers brushed a loose strand of my hair from my face, deliberate, careful, not quite touching but close enough to drive me insane. My pulse stuttered, and I gripped the arms of the chair to steady myself.

“You’re impossible,” I muttered, almost to myself, though my voice trembled.

“I’m not the one doing that,” he countered, smirk tugging at the corner of his lips, the kind of smirk that both infuriated and enthralled me. “You think you can sit there all innocent, all composed, but I can see the fire in your eyes. I feel it in every shiver, every little breath you take when I’m near. Don’t lie to me.”

I swallowed again, eyes stinging. “I’m not lying,” I said, voice barely above a whisper. Maybe I wasn’t. Maybe every stolen glance, every brush of thought toward him was proof enough. But my heart pounded with the knowledge that rules, club loyalty, and the undeniable age difference kept me tethered.

He moved closer, closing the space until I could feel his heat pressing against me without a single touch. “Then stop pretending you’re fine,” he growled. “Stop pretending someone else can…replace me.”

I pressed my lips together, breath hitching. “I don’t…Rouger, we can’t—”

“I know,” he said, his voice dropping, rougher now, a growl beneath the words. “I know we can’t. But I’m not gonna lie to myself either. Not anymore.”

For a long moment, silence stretched between us, thick with tension. I could feel the weight of him—the danger, the pull, the promise of something forbidden. The Victorian house around us felt smaller, the half-finished walls closing in as though the building itself knew the intensity of the moment.

“I…don’t want to ruin anything,” I whispered finally, barely audible.

“Nothing to ruin,” he countered softly, almost gently, and my chest twisted. “You think I’m not thinking about the same thing? About all the lines we’re not supposed to cross? About the fire we could set if we did?”