WRECKED: CHOSEN FEW MC - BOOK TWO: OUTLAW BIKER/ALPHA ROMANCE (8 page)

When they’d finished, they sipped iced tea and sat for a time. She wanted to talk, to exchange ideas, learn about each other, but words didn’t come. A comfortable silence enshrouded them, and neither seemed willing to destroy it. She felt good.

At some point, without her even noticing, he’d taken her hand, and held it gently. Then, as the shadows lengthened, he smiled. “We’d better head back.”

“Now?” A flicker of disappointment coursed through her.

“I made a promise to a beautiful lady. I intend to keep it.”

Her heart ached. She didn’t want to leave, yet she had been the one to set a time, to insist he get her home. This had to be nothing but a test—she needed to see if he would honor that promise. And now that it seemed he would, part of her wanted to take back the demand, to just let time flow on.

That way led along a dangerous path—one she wasn’t yet ready to take. Not yet.

If you are going to ease your way into this, stick to your guns.

“I guess we should.”

He didn’t blink, but she saw something flicker in his face. After a moment, she felt sure it was approval. But what was he approving of? Perhaps he liked strong women, women who knew their own minds. Or maybe it was something else. These were early days. You couldn’t trust reading the expression of someone you barely knew, even if it seemed right. You couldn’t expect to know a person after one ride up the coast no matter how exhilarating it had been.

And she had the return ride to look forward to.

Once again the big machine was kicked into life. This close its roar was almost deafening, but when you were sitting on the back and knew that in a moment you’d feel the way the bike seemed to defy gravity, it felt exciting. As she pressed up against Greg and put her arms around him, she put her hand on his chest. After a moment, he put his hand on hers. It was an affectionate gesture, a reassuring touch, and yet, an incredibly arousing one. The touch of his bare skin against hers was potent—dreams aside, she began to fantasize what would it be like to have this man make love to her.

She caught her breath as he stepped on the shifter and twisted the throttle. They lurched forward and immediately moved out into traffic, blending into the flow, heading south. To her right, out over the sea, the sun moved down toward the horizon. To her left they cast long shadows that danced in the opposite lane. He drove as smoothly as before, and she moved with him, her center starting to flow naturally with the motions of the bike now, comfortable with the way it moved, the way he controlled her.

All too soon he was pulling up in front of her apartment and stopping. They sat for a moment with the bike idling. She didn’t want it to end, but it had to or she would be swept up by her emotions. Once she knew him, then maybe… But now she forced herself to slip off the seat and stand beside him, taking off the helmet, reluctantly handing it to him.

“That was beautiful. Thank you for introducing me to that.”

“I hope we can do it more. If you want to. As often as you like.”

The words were music to her soul. “Yes. I’d like that.” She hesitated. “Would you like to come in for a drink?”

He smiled at her. “Mel, I’d like that more than anything in the world.” He sighed. “The truth is that we both know I’d better not accept. To do this right, at least one of us has to be strong.”

She knew he was right. If he came in, they’d go straight to her bed. “I—”

He stopped her by touching his fingers to her lips, then stroked her cheek, letting his warm hand rest there as he stared into her eyes. Her knees felt weak, then he slipped his fingers under her chin, tilted her head up, bent down and kissed her. His lips burned with a fire, a heat that she’d never felt before. It shot through her, making itself felt in every fiber of her being. Then he smiled. “No, I’d definitely better not come in for… a drink. Not quite yet.”

Lust burned in his eyes. Seeing how much he wanted her, that he struggled to stand there made her tremble more, nearing the point of becoming uncontrollable. “No?”

“Some things need time. I think this is one. Some people need to be very certain about what they want. I want you desperately, Melanie, but I know you aren’t sure about me—what I am. I want to come in. I want you, but even more I don’t want to mess this up. So I’d better go.”

She stood on the curb looking after him long after he was out of sight. Her legs were weak and her heart ached. This biker, this outlaw, seemed to know her. He wanted her, yet he understood her fears. He was willing to be kind, considerate. In her world that would mean he cared about her, but he was right that she needed to know what that meant to him. As badly as she hungered for him now, she wanted something that would be more than a hot night. Finding out if that was even possible for them, if such different people could have a future, would mean getting to know more about his world. That was far more complex, a bigger step than just learning that it was fun to go on a bike ride. He’d already shown her that he had strength, willpower enough for both of them, for she had been well and truly seduced already. All he had to do was step in that door.

She wasn’t used to being wracked by such powerful emotions, and clearly finding out what was possible meant taking more gambles with him, some bigger steps. It was scary but she was eager, hungry to learn more.

CHAPTER SIX

Monday mornings were always chaotic. The kids would arrive still buzzing from whatever they’d done on their days off and slow to settle back in. The teachers suffered from it too. You didn’t turn your life off and on as if there was a switch you could flip that directed your mind from “personal” to “school” even if that might be efficient. And after her Saturday, that amazing, intense, yet frustrating Saturday, Melanie found it hard to focus.

She’d spent Sunday doing nothing more exciting than her laundry and baking a chocolate cake that she ate while watching a horror movie. Even after that, her nerves still tingled from the emotions of riding behind Greg. She alternated between being thankful he’d respected her request and frustration that he hadn’t ignored it. In some ways she worried he might’ve decided she was no fun, not the kind of girl he wanted.

She was sure she wanted him. But on what terms? Would he ask her out for another ride? She desperately hoped he would.

It was so bad that she had trouble looking at Carly without thinking about her hot Uncle Greg, especially knowing she’d see him that afternoon when he picked Carly up. It was foreordained: He’d smile at her as he always did, and that infectious, dangerous smile would excite her. She’d struggle with a desire to walk over and talk to him, but be unable to think of an excuse. That meant if he didn’t come to her, she’d walk up to him with her head empty and her heart pounding. She’d stand in front of him feeling uncomfortable and know what she knew even when he wasn’t there, that he was almost irresistible.

She’d thought having gone on a ride would make it easier, but somehow it was harder now, as if the stakes were higher. She’d taken that first baby step and he had given her time and space—he wanted to see how it sat with her.

That it excited her, that he excited her didn’t help. She couldn’t consider the man she wanted to get to know without feeling the emotions he aroused in her, and those things didn’t help her judgment. He was probably dangerous and she didn’t know if that was good or bad, but she knew it was exciting. Feeling that way didn’t make her feel very grownup.

During first period Carly gave her an odd look. It was almost an adult look, seeing her as a person, not just a teacher. The girl was mature for her years, and her penetrating look unsettled her. When the bell rang, ending the period, Carly walked close to her desk. “I heard Uncle Greg tell my daddy he was taking you for a ride on his bike.”

“That’s right. I’d never been on a bike before.”

“Did you like it?”

“Yes. I thought it was great.”

“Where did you go?”

“Just up the coast a ways to have a burger.”

Carly gave her a thoughtful look. “His wife died years ago.”

“Did she?”

“While he was in prison. He’s been alone for a long time.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“So you’ll know. You should know because he likes you a lot.”

“You don’t know that.”

The girl wanted to tell her so badly she was bursting. “The other day, Audra tried to fix him up with another girl. Sheila is sexy and nuts about him, but he wasn’t interested. Later he told Cutter why, and Cutter told Audra, and I made her tell me. He said there was someone he was interested in, and she was my teacher.”

Her body trembled and she fought for control. “He’s a nice man. Who are Cutter and Audra?”

“He’s the club’s Enforcer and Uncle Greg’s best friend; Audra is his old lady. She told me she thought Wrench was being an ass, taking time to get to know you when he could be banging this other chick.”

The sudden intrusion of the biker society and sex into the conversation with a twelve-year old startled her, brought her back to the moment.
Enforcer, old lady
… they were the terms she heard in the movies that made them all out to be outlaws. And the idea that Greg had done time in prison wasn’t the kind of news that calmed her. That the women in the club talked about sex so openly to a young girl offended her sensibilities. “I like your uncle and we had a lovely ride, but…”

“I thought you needed to know that about him. And it’s important that he didn’t want to go out with the other girl and asked you to go on a ride instead. Mom said that’s what a guy does if he likes one girl better than another.” Then, before Melanie could reply, Carly grinned and magically shifted back to a little girl. “Teacher likes Wrench,” she said, her voice singsong. The she giggled and darted from the room.

Melanie stared after the precocious child. Her thoughts turned to a lonely, widowed biker who might pass on an easy lay just to take her for a ride—an innocent ride down the highway. And what did it say about her that she’d gone off with him happily, gone riding with a biker who was an ex convict. It all needed thought. A lot of thought.

The second period was an administrative one for Melanie—it was a chance for her to do some of her paperwork while the class studied art with Mr. Difle. Sometimes she’d have a student or two in the room with her who were supposed to study silently for having made some infraction of minor rules, but today she was alone, staring at her paperwork and trying to shake off a strange fantasy. She saw herself on the back of Greg’s motorcycle riding somewhere—some distant place that would take a long, long time to get to. She clung to him, and her mind summoned up all the things she’d felt on Saturday.

Because she was behind him, her arms wrapped tight around him and her thighs pressed to the vibrating motorcycle, she couldn’t see his face. Speech was almost impossible, with their words torn away by the wind, although if she put her lips to his ear she could tell him simple things. They rode along and the entire universe became one of sensation, part of it very sexual—she had to admit that. She’d come home with her panties soaking wet.

That was how it had been on Saturday—an overloading of her senses. That’s why she couldn’t honestly say if she liked Greg. Other than when they ate, he was more a sensation than a man; he was a warm, masculine body she clung to as he took her to his world.

For a woman who had spent much of her life thinking things out, studying, dealing with life through her intellect, it was as strange as if she’d spent a day on some alien planet where communication was tactile. Her feelings were certainly tactile.

She wanted him. More than she’d ever wanted anything; her desire was for this alien of hers to take her to bed, to undress her, to caress her and to take her, make her feel his overpowering strength. The fantasy was soft and beautiful, but her desire was almost violent. Greg was not like the civilized men she had dated and dismissed. He was a touch of a barbarian—controlled, and charming on the surface. He had shown her what it was like to turn off her thoughts and feel; now what she wanted was to let him know she craved for him to unleash the barbarian inside him.

So, the uncomfortable truth was that she wanted the man to take her. The idea itself didn’t frighten her but the knowledge that she wanted him, and wanted him so much, that being around him made her heart pound, aroused her, scared her to death.

What was he doing to her?

* * *

The rest of her day went by in a blur. Knowing her lesson plan by heart, the fact that there weren’t any unusual events and the kids behaved reasonably well, made it a tolerable swirl of the daily routine. Still, when the bell rang for the last period, and the cheer went up from the students as they grabbed up their things and raced out into the schoolyard, she was relieved. She looked forward to wrapping things up then going home to a quiet glass of wine and time to focus on her own thoughts and emotions.

Greg waved at her as he pulled up and Carly, followed by other children, went over to meet him. Melanie waved back and gave him a smile that she hoped didn’t betray her confusion. She needed to talk with him, but not here. Not in front of the kids. And certainly not until she had some idea of what she wanted that was a bit more thought out than dreaming of him throwing her down on a bed somewhere and ravishing her.

Just thinking about the idea made beads of sweat appear on her forehead.

When he roared off, with Carly, helmet on, behind him, she let out a sigh of relief. She’d avoided dealing with him, without snubbing him. It was a damn delicate line to walk and she appreciated that he realized her unease and was willing to give her some space.

I wonder what that biker bitch looks like—the one his friends are trying to hook him up with.

A picture of a skinny blonde arose from movies she’d seen and she felt the burn of jealousy. \Where did that come from? She didn’t like thinking that way—she didn’t like being jealous or catty, but damn it, she didn’t want him stolen out from under her nose while she figured out what she wanted and needed. If she was going to stay sane she had to either act on her feelings or let them go.