Rainbow (Ruthless Kings MC Baton Rouge #1) - K.L. Savage Page 0,11

large bodies covered in leather.

Now that I’m looking at them, I can’t help but wonder if they’re going to let me leave. Maybe I’ll get lucky. Perhaps they’ll want to take turns with my body and ravish me. I might be a smart man, but I’m still a man, and somehow these bikers get better looking with each state I end up in.

Ah, a man can dream, can’t he?

Lye, according to his patch on his vest—I mean, cut—opens the door for me.

Once I’m outside, I take a deep breath and don’t bother looking back. Of course, the quicker I get out of here, the better.

“Hey!”

A deep voice with a twangy edge has me freezing mid-step next to the rig, and I try not to panic. Did one of the guys see me check them out? I didn’t. I think I kept my eyes to myself. I thrust my shoulders back and open the doors to the rig to toss the medical bag inside. I close the left side and see the most handsome man I’ve seen in my entire life. I suck in a breath—no—he stole my ability to breathe, looking as good as he does.

His hair is cropped on the sides, and the middle is long with natural curls. Dark too, like melted chocolate. Like the chocolate in the middle of a molten lava cake, god, so damn good. It’s my favorite. Figures he’d have the hair to match. And the jawline? Chiseled by the gods and goddesses themselves. He’s tall, broad, and muscular. On his right arm is a traditional American tattoo of a ship, but it’s his name on his cut that has me raising my brows.

“Rainbow?” I question him, unable to hide the amusement in my voice.

He runs his fingers through his luscious locks to push the hair out of his face. That’s when I notice his eyes and the way the light is shining against them. They remind me of honey lit on fire, flames burning in the dark.

He smirks, his lips tilting to the left, revealing a dimple in his cheek.

A damn dimple!

Damn bikers, they’re out to give me dirty dreams.

“Or you can just call me Nathan,” he greets, holding out his hand in introduction.

“I think I like Rainbow more.”

“You and everyone else,” he laughs. It’s deep, guttural, and raspy. Like he hasn’t had a good laugh in a while.

A shame.

I finally slide my hand into his, right as he’s about to drop it and give up. I catch him just in time, and a shiver runs up my arm as our palms touch. I inhale a sharp breath—and apparently, I’m not the only one that feels it. His nostrils flare, and his eyes drift from me to the rig.

We hold on a beat too long, like neither of us wants to let go, but then he pulls away, breaking our connection—my damn palm tingles. I swear, my skin already misses his touch, which is insane because he isn’t the kind of person I need.

One, he’s straight.

Two, he’s a biker with a lot of straight friends who probably don’t like gay guys.

Three, I’ve been someone’s dirty secret before, and I never want to do that again.

When I came out of the closet, I lost my family. It took me a long time to come to terms with it, but I did. I’ve come too far, and I’ve lost too much to ever go back inside that lonely space.

He clears his throat. “So, you’re kind of early to be waiting for the hurricane to hit.”

“Yeah, well, my boss needed me here for a few days for his friend so, I’m kind of just waiting it out at this point. But, hopefully, it isn’t as bad as they say it will be and I won’t need to go down there at all.”

He nods and leans against the ambulance. “I understand that. I’m hoping I don’t get called down either.”

I look him up and down to try and figure out what he does. “National Guard?” He has to be a warrior of some sort, with arms like that.

“Smokejumper and firefighter,” he replies proudly.

Oh.

“That’s amazing. Quite the accomplishment. So, you’ll probably get the call too.” I’ve never been good at masking my emotions. A firefighter—hell, a smokejumper—that’s amazing. But, it’s a job only certain people can do. I hope he doesn’t see how bummed I am, but I’m happy that he has a career he can be proud of.

Not that it matters since he’s straight, but I don’t