Scooter

by Marie James

  I hate the interruption because I feel like it derailed us, but then Ryan turns in his seat and clasps my hands, picking up right where we left off a few moments ago.

  “I know I want you in my life. I know I want you in my bed.” His eyes dart between mine, and I wonder if he wants to say something that he feels like I’m not ready to hear. He said as much during our conversation while he was out of the country.

  “Don’t hide the truth or your feelings from me,” I beg.

  “I want everything you have to offer, and probably things you won’t be ready to give for a long time, if ever, but I want you to know I’m a patient man. Holding you, being near you soothes something in my soul I didn’t know needed soothing. But at the same time, I want your lips on mine. I want my mouth on every inch of your body. I want to remind you that physical pleasure is a good thing, but I don’t want to do anything until you’re ready. We’re taking this at your pace, and I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if you feel obligated or you do something you’ll regret later. Just know that my cock is going to get hard, and I’m going to watch you like I can’t take my eyes off you because I can’t.”

  “I dated Jason for eight years. For almost a decade, I spent nearly every day with the same man,” I tell him. “What I felt for him, what I thought I felt for him, doesn’t even begin to compare to what I feel for you. I’m not going to use the L-word right now because I don’t want to leap too soon, but this isn’t temporary for me. I’m not going to wake up tomorrow and change my mind. I need to know that you aren’t either.”

  His face softens as his grip on my hands grows. “Sweet Mia, I’m in this for the long haul.”

  Chapter 31

  Scooter

  We talked at the diner for hours. After we got the heavy stuff out of the way, Mia shared bits and pieces of her past with me. She was guarded in some areas. She still doesn’t want to talk about her abduction or her time spent there, but I get the feeling that those things are easier discussed in the darkness where she can feel my warmth against her body for comfort.

  When the waitress finally had enough of us taking up the table in her section, making it clear we should leave by removing our empty drink cups from the table rather than offering us another refill, we left.

  I know we talked about not wondering where things were going or where we stand, but I delay getting her back to the clubhouse because I also insisted that we take things slow. I don’t know if our confessions over French toast and eggs trumps that insistence or if it’s still in place.

  “We do a lot of community work around here,” I tell her as we drive through town. “We host cookouts at the park. We’ve taken our bikes to the fire department while they have canned food drives, so it draws more people in who want to get pictures. Cerberus organizes blood drives, and at least three times a year we do poker runs, and around Christmas, we do a toy run as well.”

  “So, nothing like Sons of Anarchy?”

  I snort a laugh. I know there are clubs out there that are hedonistic to their core. Ravens Ruin in Massachusetts comes to mind, but Cerberus isn’t like that at all. From inception, the club has been about helping and giving back. Hell, it’s part of the mission statement posted on the wall in the living room.

  “The parties can get a little wild sometimes,” I tell her. “The guys like to blow off steam when they get home.”

  “The guys?” She smiles at me with her eyebrows raised. “Not you?”

  “Things are different now.”

  I focus on driving, hoping she’ll drop it, but once Mia starts chatting, it’s hard to get her to stop.

  “You don’t have to change things like that for me. I’m not telling you that I’m going to be right in the middle of it, but I don’t want you to feel like you can’t do what you’d normally do just because we’re together.”

  Together. Never before have three syllables sounded so damn good.

  I clear my throat, wondering if I should tell her the full truth, and then I remind myself that she said not to hide from her. “Drinking beer and getting rowdy with the guys isn’t what I imagine doing when I get home from a mission.”

  I can feel her eyes on the side of my face as I turn on the road leading to the clubhouse, and I know she isn’t going to let me off the hook that easily.

  “If I’ve been away from you for any length of time, you’re who I’d want to spend time with. I’m not going to want a beer or loud music. I’m going to want—”

  My jaw snaps shut. Mentally, I feel like we’re on the same page, but Mia is miles away from being ready for the intimate stuff, and talking about it may only lead to her feeling that obligation I insisted she shouldn’t feel.

  “What?” she prods. “What would you want?”

  “Your touch. Your arms around me. I’ll want to look into your pretty eyes and be reminded why we continue to do what we do even though it’s dangerous.”

  “I want that, too,” she whispers, and my heart is filled to the top and overflowing with all the good things life has to give by the time we pull up outside of the clubhouse.

  I don’t want the night to end, so I don’t turn the SUV off after putting it into park. I wasn’t joking when I told her I wanted to spend all my time with her. Tonight is no different. The last two weeks of her being gone were just as bad as it would’ve been if I were the one gone.

  “Has Jasmine been staying here with Max while Kingston is gone?” Mia asks, her eyes focused on the front of the clubhouse.

  “Most nights. Max is working for Cerberus now, so he sticks pretty close in case they need something from him.”

  “He seems happy,” she whispers. “With both of them. He and Kingston were best friends growing up, and when that friendship morphed into something else, the dedication was a tangible thing between the two of them. I envied them. I wanted that for myself, but then Kingston walked away from Max, and the devastation my brother felt was horrendous.” She sighs. “I think watching that made me leery of getting too serious, but it also made me complacent. It made me stay with Jason because I was afraid of how I’d feel without him. I was afraid of making a mistake.”

  I take her hand, but she still looks off in the distance as if she can see more than just fields covered in darkness.

  “I don’t think being here is a mistake, and if that means that my abduction had to happen for this series of events to play, for me to be right here with you in this moment, then that may not be a mistake either. And that scares the shit out of me. Does it make me crazy?”

  She finally turns her head, and I hate the tears clinging to her lower lashes.

  “No. Not at all. I’m a firm believer that everything happens for a reason. The good, the bad, the tragic. The sequence of events in our lives happen when they’re supposed to. I think it’s a very enlightened way of thinking for you to be able to accept that.”

  She chuckles. “Really?”

  I shrug. “Kincaid made me see a shrink for an evaluation after Venezuela. Dr. Alverez said some things that made a lot of sense. I’ve had a couple of appointments with her in the last two weeks, and she’s helping me work through my own shit.”

  “I think Camryn mentioned her to me once. I may have to take her suggestion and make an appointment myself.”

  I squeeze her hand one more time before releasing it to turn the SUV off. “I think that’s an amazing idea. Let’s get inside. I know you have to be tired after traveling all day.”

  The clubhouse is silent when we walk inside, so I make sure to lock the door behind us. I’m dragging my feet toward the hallway, and I can tell Mia is, too. Neither one of us wants to say goodnight, but I stop outside of her door, anyway.

  “Thank you for dinner,” she says as she turns to face me.

  “Anytime. I’m glad we got a lot of things settled.”

  Like ripping off a Band-Aid and trying to get this over with so I can go to my room and question myself on the million other ways I wish this night would go, I lean down and p
ress my mouth to hers. I’m planning a nice, quick kiss, something that will leave me wanting more than I already do, but Mia has other plans. Her fingers tangle in the front of my shirt as she lifts up onto the tips of her toes to deepen it.

  It’s my turn to gasp, allowing her seeking tongue entrance to my mouth. Just like I imagined earlier. She still releases that tiny moan, though. Pulling her against me, I angle my head. Jesus, she feels amazing against me, and I’d love nothing more than to lift her feet from the ground and carry her to my room. I still have two weeks of suspension left, and I can think of a few dozen things we could do to fill the time.

  But then she pulls away, blinking up at me like something has changed right before her eyes.

  “Sleep well, Sweet Mia,” I whisper, brushing my lips across her cheek because I just have to touch her one more time.

  “You, too,” she pants, and I have to walk away before I make myself a liar. Yes, I’m a patient man, but she’s a temptation I can barely resist.

  Her bedroom door clicks closed just as I enter my own room. I’m exhausted, the weight of being without her the last two weeks has lifted, reminding me just how little sleep I’ve gotten while she was away, but I also know that I’ll drive myself mad by morning time with her being so close and still just out of reach.

  Stripping down to my boxer briefs, I climb between the cool sheets and sigh. My eyes focus on the wall that separates our rooms, but eventually, my eyes flutter closed. Dreaming about her is a much better option than lying here awake and pining for her.

  The clock on my bedside table reads two am when my bedroom door creaks open.

  When Mia steps inside of my room, I’m well aware that I need to ask her to leave. My strength only goes so far, and her confessions and deciding that we want to be together have used up every ounce of my reserves.

  I don’t ask her to leave. I knew that if I did, I’d just end up following her to her room to admit my mistake.

  Chapter 32

  Mia

  I ignore the voice in my head that’s telling me to turn back around and leave his room. That voice has done me wrong so many times over the last couple of weeks, and I’m learning to ignore it. At least, I’m doing my best. The whispers in my head are lying. He does want to spend time with me. He does want the same things I do. He doesn’t despise me. He doesn’t wish I’d stayed in Louisiana, nor does he wish he’d never met me.

  So, I ignore the self-esteem issues I’ve been struggling with and walk closer to his bed. He knows I’m here. He’s too much of a soldier to let anyone sneak up on him. His body tensed when the tiny stream of light from the hallway hit the end of his bed, but he remains silent.

  Then I see him looking up at me, and even though I’m ignoring those voices in my head, I don’t miss the expression on his face that’s telling me without a doubt that he’s torn between welcoming me into his arms and asking me to leave.

  He doesn’t want me to leave because he doesn’t want me here. He’s afraid that I’ll do something I’ll regret later, and he never wants me to feel regret where he’s concerned. He said as much during dinner tonight.

  I open my mouth to tell him that I feel like a fool, but when I give that thought a breath of life, I realize that I don’t feel that way at all. I’m not here because I’m scared to sleep alone. I’m here, standing in his room because I want to be next to him. He thinks I want slow, but he has to realize that we’ve been doing slow for weeks and weeks. My presence in his room isn’t moving fast. It isn’t taking things too far too soon. This is the right speed. The perfect speed.

  Even though we spent the last two weeks apart, I spent most of that time not only evaluating my past but also thinking of my future, and Ryan is a huge part of that. I want to be in his arms, in his bed, with him inside of me. Before I even left my parents’ house, I knew I wanted him. It didn’t take seeing him again, and although the conversation we had at the diner helped, it was needed for me to know that I’d fight for him if that’s what it took.

  Yet, a fight isn’t needed. He wants me as much as I want him, and that’s the scary part. This feels almost too easy. Things haven’t been easy for a long time. I understand complicated. I understand difficult situations.

  Effortless is new to me.

  “Come here,” he whispers, his voice a soft plea.

  I want to do exactly that, but my feet feel cemented to the floor. This room, the way he’s looking up at me is exactly the way it’s been dozens of times since I first came to New Mexico. The clouds of all of those other times circle around me like a thunderstorm ready to unleash havoc and pain. He’s held me in his arms in here countless times. I spent hours sobbing into his chest before draining every ounce of energy I had. I clung to him when I felt empty and broken, and even though I know what I want now, even though I feel like things are looking up, no matter the level of bravado I try to convince myself I have, I’m still broken. I’m still in a million tiny pieces, only now I have hope that I won’t stay that way.

  Ryan has the ability to put me back together, and he’s been doing just that since the first time my swollen eyes met his in that Miami compound.

  “Mia?” He shifts his weight, lifting up on his elbows as he waits for me to make my decision. When I don’t respond immediately, he turns on the bedside table lamp. I both love and hate the light now shining between us. Confessions are easier made in the dark, but at the same time, I don’t want anything misconstrued between us.

  “I feel ashamed,” I confess as he watches me patiently.

  “You don’t have to,” he assures me. “No one is judging you for being afraid.”

  My throat works on a swallow. “I’m not afraid. Fear of being in my own room isn’t what drew me in here.”

  “Talk to me.”

  Sitting up on the side of his bed, he reaches for my hand, and I let him take it. He doesn’t pull me closer. He’s merely offering me a lifeline, a human touch to ease the war inside of my head. He’s been the only one whose touch soothed me in a way I can’t describe. He brings peace, tranquility, and ease to the scattered thoughts in my head. Just the brush of his fingertips does what the sedatives were meant to do in the hospital.

  “I want you.”

  He smiles up at me, the right side of his mouth twitching in that way that I love, but he doesn’t tell me that he feels the same.

  “I need you.”

  “I’m here.” He releases my hand, opening his arms, and I don’t waste a second stepping into his embrace, but a hug isn’t what I’m after.

  Instead of pulling him to my chest, I straddle his thighs. A rush of air escapes his perfect lips when my center brushes him.

  “Mia?” It’s a plea, a whimper begging for mercy.

  “Is it wrong that I want you after everything that’s happened?”

  He bites his lip when I circle my hips. He’s hard, a thick stalk between my legs, and my body sings with the contact. I shudder, feeling the full force of arousal for the first time in as long as I can remember, but this isn’t only about me. I know that at least his body wants this, too, but his body always responds to mine. This doesn’t mean that his head is in the same place.

  “Jesus,” he grips my hips, but he isn’t trying to hold me in place.

  He doesn’t stop me, but I need the words. I need to know that I’m not forcing his hand. He has to be an active participant in this as well. The worry of regret goes two ways, and the last thing I want is for him to feel forced. God, I’d never want someone to feel compelled to go along with something they really didn’t want.

  “Do you want this?” My body shivers when I stop moving, but I don’t want him to make decisions based on his own body’s need. I need his head fully engaged.

  His head tilts back, his eyes focusing first on my mouth before they reach my eyes.

  “Only if it’s what you want,” he whispers.

  “I do.” I bite my lip to keep from moaning when he shifts his weight. The thin layers of clothing betwe
en us aren’t doing much to impede the sensations.

  “We can stop at any point. If you change your min—”

  I silence him up with a kiss, pressing my lips to his and wasting no time letting my tongue brush against his. His fingers tighten on my hips, and he groans in my mouth. The sound reverberates through my body and settles right where I need him the most.

  “Ryan,” I pant when we come up for air.

  “Tell me I’m not dreaming,” he says, his lips brushing down my neck as his fingers find the skin between my sleep shorts and t-shirt. “Tell me this isn’t another one my fantasies and that I’m not going to wake up without you.”

  My lips twitch as I lean back enough to look at his face. “You fantasize about me?”

  He nods as his cheeks pink. I brush my fingertips against his face. “I can’t control my dreams, but I do it more than I should while I’m awake.”

  “Tell me about them,” I urge.

  I want to give him exactly what he wants, but he isn’t falling for it. “Tonight is about you. What you want. What you need.”

  “I want you to enjoy this, too.”

  A wicked smile crosses his face as his tongue snakes out to lick his lower lip. “Oh, Sweet Mia. I’m going to enjoy every minute of it.”

  This is a plan I can get behind. “Touch me.”

  His hands leave my hips, but he doesn’t toss me on the bed and take over. His fingers press against my back until I lean closer, a gasp leaving my lips when he wraps his mouth over my nipple through the cotton of my shirt. Wet heat blooms against my breast and between my legs.

  Not wanting to waste another minute, I tug my shirt over my head and toss it to the floor. He doesn’t attack my breasts like I expect. His eyes focus on my chest, and he seems torn with which dark-tipped breast he should focus on.

  “Jesus, Mia,” he murmurs. “You’re fucking perfect.”

  I make the decision for him, angling my body so the furled point of my left breast presses against his lips. He moans like a man starved as he sucks the sensitive flesh into his mouth. Chills and desire race down my spine, and I let myself get lost in the sensations I didn’t think I’d ever feel again.