Her Knight in Black Leather (5 page)

It was one of his biggest regrets. He came back to make amends and had instead let old wounds resurface and get in the way.

“What happened?” A soft curiosity filled her gaze, her face open, no judgment in the depths of her eyes, and once again it called to him like a beacon. While some part of him told him he shouldn’t say it, the words spilled from his mouth anyway.

“It went the way it always did. We argued, I said things I shouldn’t have, decided my father hadn’t changed a bit, and nothing would ever change, and walked out.”

The same way he had ten years ago.

He heaved a sigh, aimlessly drawing circles in the sand with the tip of his finger. “Now it just seems … childish. I allowed wounded pride to get in the way. If I don’t make amends now, I may never get another chance.”

Yet another regret to add to the pile already heaped on his soul. He couldn’t do it anymore.

“I’m sorry.” She reached over and laid a hand on his arm. “Does he have much time left?”

The touch surprised him. The warmth of her hand on his skin soothed a ragged nerve within him that he found comforting and disturbing at the same time. Ease settled around him like a warm fire on a cold night.

He shrugged a shoulder. “Nobody really knows. From what I hear, he’s as well as can be expected. My father’s very goal-oriented. A retired Marine. He hates not being able to do anything and hates being treated like an invalid even more. From what my brother tells me, he’s driving the nurses at the hospital crazy.”

The soft concern in her eyes wrapped around him and settled deep in his core. The emotion made Michael long for things he knew he shouldn’t, things he’d long ago given up on ever having. Their gazes caught and held; that fine, sweet tension settled between them again.

He lifted a hand, tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, remembering the silky feel of it sifting through his fingers when he kissed her earlier. “Tell me something. What exactly are you doing out here with me?”

It was a bold question, one that put her on the spot, but he had to know where he stood.

A soft pink flush suffused her cheeks. “Caught red-handed. Truth is, I don’t really know. I’m kind of making it up as I go along.” She turned to face the water. Her voice softened, became almost pensive. “Have you ever wanted to step outside yourself, stop giving a damn what everyone thinks or what they’ll say, and just be who you’ve always wanted to be?”

Another something in common. “I had to go all the way to L.A. to find that.”

She glanced at him. “The town gets to me sometimes. I’ve spent my entire life playing the part of the wallflower, always keeping to myself, praying I’d blend in, that no one would notice me. Trying not to give anyone a reason to look too closely.”

That she felt comfortable enough to tell him that touched a soft spot deep inside of him. A place he’d walled off so long ago he’d forgotten it existed.

“The busybodies.” He nodded. He understood that more than she knew, more than he could or wanted to tell her. “I used to do exactly the opposite.”

“Somehow I’m not surprised.” Amusement flitted through her eyes, fading as quickly as it came. Something softer, more intense, slipped between them, calling to him like a Siren’s song. “Why’d you kiss me?”

Her soft question surprised him, and for a moment, he fumbled for an answer. It didn’t escape his notice, either, that her gaze drifted to his mouth again. This time it stopped there. Her tongue darted out and swept over her bottom lip in a distracted fashion. It was all he could do not to lean over and claim those lips again. The supple feel of them against his own shuddered through the recesses of his memory.

In the end, he decided on honesty. “Because you turned around on that stool and gave me a look I’d seen before.”

Her gaze shifted to his. “Which was?”

“Like you weren’t sure if you should be afraid of me or not.”

A soft flush slid into her cheeks. “You’re not a small man. You must be what, six two? Six three?”

He grinned. “Six three.”

“And you were standing there all dressed in black and leather with this mischievous glint in your eye that dared anybody to judge you.” She paused, glanced at the sand between them, then peeked at him through lowered lashes. “It was very sexy.”

Heat slid through him. A raw, aching need curled in his gut, to peel away her clothing and wrap his body around hers.

“I could ask you the same question.” He reached out and cupped her cheek in his palm. “Why’d you kiss me back? I hadn’t expected it. That you did was the entire reason I sat down beside you.”

Her eyelids fluttered closed and her mouth fell open, a ragged, whisper-soft exhalation escaping her lips. A moment later, her eyes opened, filled with a desire so tangible, it lit a fire in his belly that spread like a raging inferno through his system.

“I couldn’t help myself.” Her voice was low, soft, vulnerable, like she admitted something she wasn’t sure she ought to be telling him, either. “You’re a very good kisser.”

Her words settled into his core, and everything inside of him tightened and ached. He shouldn’t get involved while he was here. The last thing he wanted was another broken heart on his conscience when he left town in a month. He’d done it one too many times. He’d been a lot of things over the years, some of them rotten to the core, but having to break someone’s heart wasn’t something he was fond of. Two years ago, when yet another relationship ended badly, he decided he couldn’t do it anymore. The flings that once kept him sane had lost their appeal.

Yet, here he found himself. Cat’s effect on him confounded him.

“What if I said I wanted to kiss you again?” Unable to help himself, he swept his thumb along her lower lip, the need to touch her, to feel its suppleness again, too strong to deny.

Her eyes fluttered closed, and she drew in a quiet, shuddering breath that seemed to vibrate through her entire body. Her chest rose and fell at a rapid pace. The moonlight caressed her face, highlighted her flushed cheeks, her heavy eyelids.

A breath later, she opened her eyes. For a moment, something hot and tangible filled the space between them. She seemed every bit as leveled by this as he felt. As if they’d been swept away by something more powerful than the ocean tides and were helpless to stop it.

Breaking eye contact, she rose to her feet and strolled in the direction of the dock a few yards away.

His desire throbbed in his ears. His body ached with need and strained painfully against his zipper. He could do little more than stare after her, watching the sultry sway of her hips.

“Where are you going?”

“I’m hot. I want to dip my feet in the water.” When she shot a coy smile over her shoulder, an enticing “come get me” look, a sound that was half laugh, half groan escaped him.

With a shake of his head, he shed his boots and socks, then took off at a jog to catch up with her.

At the end of the dock, Cat watched the full moon’s reflection on the surface of the water. A soft, warm breeze blew her skirt against her legs and sent the moon’s image rippling. She filled her lungs with the scent of salty air, then exhaled slowly.

The dock beneath her shifted and rocked. The closer Michael’s quiet footsteps drew, the more she trembled with anticipation, excitement. She had no idea what she was doing, had never done anything near this bold in her entire life. She’d spent all her time hidden in the shadows, too afraid to prove the town right — she really was her mother’s daughter.

It felt good. Damn good. Her heart hammered. An exhilarating feeling of freedom filled her chest, not unlike the sensation she had riding on his bike. Like she stood on the edge of a precipice.

When the rocking and footsteps ceased, Michael’s presence filled her back. He stood so close, the heat of his body and the scent of him — of soap and leather — invaded her nostrils every time she inhaled, along with the vague scent of saltwater in the air. Yet he didn’t touch her. The gesture spoke volumes, echoed the need pounding in her belly. He was giving her space to object, to move away. Not that she could or wanted to.

“Say the word, and I’ll take you home.” His voice was a low rumble behind her, vibrating with the same overwhelming need winding through her.

“What if I don’t want to go home?”

He moved to stand beside her, turned his back to the water, and tucked the tips of his fingers into his pockets. “What
do
you want?”

His dark eyes trained on hers, filled with so much heat and desire she feared melting through the boards and into the water beneath her. The air between them sizzled, yet there was an unspoken question in his eyes. One that clearly told her he wasn’t presuming anything but was, instead, putting the choice in her hands.

Her heart pounded in her throat. She wanted to slide into his arms and seize his mouth, taste him again, feel the passion those eyes promised. Dive into the freedom and relish it. She wanted to lose herself in the fantasy he provided. That’s what he was — a living, breathing fantasy. The entire night was a wonderful dream. All too soon, she’d wake up, and the cold, harsh light of reality would come, taking him with it.

The question was, was she ready to take that step forward? Leap off the cliff into oblivion?

Seeming to sense her hesitation, he cocked a brow.

“Say it, Cat.” His tone taunted. The mischievous glint in his eyes challenged her. “Tell me what you want.”

Something in that look gave her exactly what she needed. He was telling her he wanted her, too, but attempted to set her at ease. It worked. Once again, his actions told her a lot about the kind of man he was.

She met his cheeky grin with one of her own.

“What I want,” she braced her hands against his chest, “is to go for a swim.”

Then she leaned her body weight into him and shoved.

Surprise lit his eyes right before he toppled, rear-end first, into the cool ocean water. The splash sounded through the quiet of the night, water spraying her clothes.

She gripped the waistband of her skirt, ready to strip it off and jump in after him. She’d never been so spontaneous before. Hell, it was childish, and Nick would’ve been furious.

As Michael’s head disappeared beneath the murky water, her mind took the thought a step further and her smile fell. Her heart pounded a panicky rhythm in her chest. Suppose he couldn’t swim? She hadn’t thought about the temperature of the water, either. It had been a hot summer so far. It ought to be warm enough; still, some summers it was ice cold. Would he be angry when he finally surfaced?

He popped up moments later, spitting and sputtering.

And laughing.

“You little minx.”

Relief flooded her first — obviously, he could swim.

Then a knot of guilt sank in her gut. “I’m sorry. That was really childish. I shouldn’t have done that.”

“You’re right. You shouldn’t have. I’m a man of vengeance, Cat. If I were you … ” He gripped the edge of the dock and vigorously shook his head as he hoisted himself up. The bottom half of him still hanging in the water, he pinned her with playful, narrowed eyes. “I’d start running now.”

She knew she ought to heed his warning, but she couldn’t move. The sight of him caught her. His wet T-shirt now clung to his skin, showing off every solid muscle, every peak and valley, right down to his narrow waist and flat stomach.

“When I get out of this water … ” He lifted a knee onto the edge of the dock. “You’re going to get it.”

The low, rough timbre of his voice, the way he dropped neat and easy onto the edge of the dock, sent a shiver down her spine.

“Want to go for a swim?” One brow arched, he sprang to his feet with all the agility of a large cat, then rose to his full height.

When he took a menacing step toward her, she realized he wasn’t kidding. Her pulse skipped then quickened, but it was the look in his eyes that finally released the knot of guilt in her stomach. His deep, dark eyes glimmered with amusement. Amusement — and retribution.

With a giddy little squeal, she pivoted and ran. The sound of his bare feet hitting the wood followed closely behind her, and she couldn’t stop the insane giggles that bubbled out of her. She felt like a teenager again, carefree, light, playful, and she ran for the simple thrill of letting him catch her.

As she leaped onto the sand, her mind reeled. What would he do to her once he got his hands on her? What was a bad boy’s idea of torture? The thought sent a thrill zipping through her veins, heating her blood.

She didn’t have to wonder long. Two steps later, one strong arm snaked around her waist, bringing her to an abrupt halt. She barely had time to register the chill of his wet clothing against her before he scooped her off her feet.

At the sudden weightlessness, she let out a surprised squeak, her eyes widening.

“It’s payback time, Miss Kitty.” He shot her a playful grin and headed for the water, his stride no longer slow and stalking but long and determined.

“Then I’m taking you with me.” She wrapped her arms around his neck and held on tight and met his narrowed gaze with one of her own. A giggle popped out before she could stop it, contradicting the fierceness of her statement.

“Honey, I’m already wet.” A low laugh rumbled out of him as he splashed into the water, carrying her as if she weighed little more than a pile of feathers.

He stopped waist deep and studied her. The waves he’d created rippled against her backside, the cool water contrasting with the heat of his body against her. Wickedness glinted in his eyes. What she wouldn’t give to be able to read his mind. Was he thinking the same sinful thoughts she was?

The corners of his mouth curled. “Take a deep breath, Cat, ’cause one way or another, you’re getting wet.”

She didn’t have time to ponder his statement, barely managed to register how sexy he looked right then. His eyes narrowed in playful retribution, his hair wet and tousled, water dripping over his chiseled features. In one swift movement, he pivoted to face the beach and fell backwards into the water, taking her with him. Goose bumps shivered across her skin and she sucked back a hissing breath right before the water swallowed her.