A Perfect Chance

by Becca Lee

  Kid was part of Deadwood and had had my back too many times to count. He was also tight with Lena and had worked a few security gigs for me when I needed him. It had taken a few months a couple of years back for me to swallow the jealousy as I observed the two of them together, dissecting and figuring out what their relationship was. He was one of the few Lena could comfortably touch. Even two years ago, I was envious that she would kiss his cheek, or he would hold her tightly in a hug. It took a while, but I was able to work out that they had a brother-sister kind of love. They were close to the same age and had actually gone to high school together.

  Admittedly, it was only after I worked this out that I took a liking to Kid, but ever since, he was a guy I trusted almost as much as I did Diesel.

  Lena's small smile grew into a wide grin. "Out." She added an affirmative nod and took a deep breath.

  Standing, I grabbed my wallet, phone, and keys, and the two of us headed out. I locked up behind us, and we held hands to my car. The contact was the same every single fucking time. I'd hoped to get used to it over the last month, not to react so obviously like the twat that I was, but no such luck. Her delicate hand in mine felt fucking perfect. A calming rightness settled through me, filling my chest with emotion and my cock with need. Yet still, I remained stoic, steadfast, not daring to break her trust, not risking pushing her over to the point of panic. If I were ever responsible for that, fuck knows what I would do. So instead, we held hands, walked to my car, which I'd taken to using rather than my wheels for this purpose alone, and I saw her safely situated in the passenger seat.

  As I headed to the driver side, I thought of Diesel's words, his roundabout way of giving me permission to form a relationship with Lena. The knowledge still screwed with my brain. I was so tempted, too fucking tempted, to steam ahead and make it happen, but I couldn't do that to her. My head was too consumed with what ifs while my heart was buried in guilt. So instead, I helped her and supported her the best I could, hoping like hell I didn't mess it up and lose myself in the process.

  I pulled out and drove to our local drive-through coffee house. I'd never paid attention to the place before, but soon discovered it was bloody perfect for Lena. She didn't need to get out of the car—though we were working up to that—yet she had the freedom of leaving the office and doing something everyday people did.

  It didn't take long before we arrived. Unbuckling her belt, Lena leaned over me to speak into the microphone to make her order. I held back my groan as I inhaled her scent: fresh peaches that smelled fucking delectable. I couldn't help but wonder if I'd spent the first week messing up her order on purpose, to give me the opportunity to have her all but sprawled over my lap. I was a sadistic bastard if that were the case, punishing myself by revelling in the closeness, but not allowing myself to touch.

  She made her order and then turned her head to look at me, her brows raised in question. I held my breath at her closeness. All I had to do was lean in a couple of inches, if that, and my lips could be pressed against hers.

  "Mace?" Her voice reminded me that she was waiting for my order.

  "Peaches." Fuck.

  She grinned at me, still in close proximity, her arm brushing against my chest and her other hand moving to my thigh for support. "Excuse me?"

  Thinking fast, I said, "Peach smoothie?" not intending for it to come out as a dumb-arse question.

  "Alrighty," she said with a laugh, turning her head away from me and leaning closer once more to the open window. The movement caused her hair to sway, releasing more of the peach scent that apparently left me incapable of thought.

  Before I could stop myself, I leaned forward, my nose touching her hair. It wasn't until her hand shifted a fraction, tightening on my thigh, that I realised what I'd done, or that Lena had noticed. I froze, not daring to move. In the past two minutes, I'd grown a fucking vagina. Sniffing her goddamn hair and enjoying the smell of peaches. Pussy-whipped, yet I'm not even getting any.

  Lena eased her head back, angling it to face me. I dared not move, hoping her hand wouldn't shift to feel my hardened cock, while wondering how the hell I would handle it if I saw panic on her face.

  When her face finally turned to mine, I gritted my teeth. The agony in my cock at her closeness was too much. Her sweet breath brushed against my lips. Unable to put it off any longer, I allowed my gaze to travel to her eyes. They were focused on my lips. Fuck. I gulped, my mouth dry. The action flicked her gaze from my mouth to my eyes.

  I remained still, silent as I tried to read the situation. She wasn't freaking out, closing in on herself, nor was she backing away in either embarrassment or amusement. Instead, she remained in front of me, eyes locked on my own. Waiting. Waiting? I had no fucking idea if that was right. I didn't trust my ability to read people anymore, especially not a smoking-hot woman sprawled over me. My cock seemed to be the only part of me with a real reaction. It throbbed beneath my denim. I wanted to shift but didn't want to break whatever the hell this was.

  My eyes widened when her gaze once more flicked to my mouth. I mirrored her action and looked at hers, and groaned when I watched her pull her bottom lip between her teeth. "Lena—" I began, but was cut off by the ringing of my phone.

  She jerked back, her hand shifting off my leg and landing on my throbbing cock in the process. I half groaned, half moaned at the contact.

  "Shit!" she squeaked, moving her hand quickly before scrambling awkwardly to her seat. Her gaze immediately went to her window, and she stared out intently.

  Her gaze off me, I shifted in my seat, pulling my phone out of my pocket. I allowed my hand to rub my aching dick for a nanosecond, and then eased the car forward to the next window to pay for and collect our drinks.

  I looked at the screen before answering the phone. "Diesel," I greeted, noticing Lena stiffen in my periphery. I schooled my voice, pushing back the effect of my pounding heart and throbbing cock. Hell, speaking to Diesel was enough to quell the latter.

  "You getting coffee?" he asked.

  I wasn't even surprised he knew where we were. "Yeah. What's up?"

  "I have a big fucking ask, brother." His voice was serious, heavy, and I could imagine him rubbing his hand over his face in frustration.

  "Name it."

  "I need Lena to stay with you for a couple of days." I stiffened, my eyes widening and jaw snapping shut at the request, but he was already continuing. "Shit, man. I have to get out of town, plus there's a fuckload of shit going on around here."

  "I'm not sure that's wise," I answered, not wanting to alert Lena to the fact we were talking about her.

  I heard faint mumbling in the background and a door slamming shut. "I know. Fuck. It's Riots." I froze. "She's not safe at the compound or our house. She needs to be with you." He sighed heavily. "Listen, I know she's never been to your place before, and that's likely to be a huge-arse problem, but she knows and trusts you. Just talk her through it. I wouldn't put her through this if there were any other way."

  Damn, I knew without a doubt he spoke the truth. He also knew that anything involving Riots, I wanted to know. "Can you tell me what's happening?" I risked a glance in Lena's direction. She'd since overcome any embarrassment she may have had and was staring at me openly.

  My eyes remained trained on hers as Diesel spoke. "They've pulled some shit out of town and are making all kinds of threats. Usually, I'd ignore their bullshit, especially since it's not in our patch, but Drifters have reached out to us for help. That's something we can't refuse. There's nothing immediate you need to know or worry about, and I'm not saying that to shut you up. Anything I find out, I'll tell you about when we get back, right, brother?"

  I turned my gaze away from Lena's intense scrutiny. "Sure thing." The Drifters, an MC two towns over, were tight with the Deadwoods. I knew, just like Diesel did, they wouldn't reach out if they didn't have to. While I was eager for more information, I let it rest, knowing Diesel would make good on his word.

  He released a sigh of re
lief. "Thanks, Mace, seriously. Stop by the house to pick up some of her things first. Also, grab her medication in case she needs it."

  "I didn't think—"

  "She hasn't been taking any medication for the past six weeks. She's been coping so fucking well, but if this pushes her over, she'll need it to help calm her, okay?"

  I nodded into the phone and answered, "Okay." Shit, I couldn't screw this up with Lena. Every time an attack hit her, it took everything I had in me to keep my shit together. I hated it. Hated feeling out of control. Hated watching her in pain. And fucking hated not being able to take her in my arms to make it all go away for her. Considering the impact on me, I could only begin to imagine how hard it hit her.

  "Thanks. I have to head out. Let me quickly speak to Lena. I think it's best I tell her what's going on."

  I faced Lena once more and held out my phone to her. She lifted her brows in confusion as she took it from me. I finally registered the horn blowing in the background and the repetitive call of, "Sir, your order?" I pulled out my card and pressed it against the payWave reader before taking Lena's coffee and a sickly looking frozen concoction from the kid serving. Fucking peaches.

  Placing the drinks in the cup holders, I pulled away and headed to a parking space. I needed to deal with whatever fallout came from Lena finding out about her sleeping arrangements.

  Putting the car in Park, I allowed the engine to idle as I angled to look at Lena. Her head was down, phone to her ear, and she was slowly nodding. I smiled slightly, knowing I regularly did the same thing when on the phone. A whispered, "Okay, love you and stay safe," alerted me to her ending the call. I waited as she pulled the phone from her ear and pressed End.

  I watched Lena carefully as she took a deep breath, held it, and then released it slowly. She did this a couple more times before she handed me my phone and looked at me.

  Her eyes were wide, bright, and for the life of me I could not figure out what the hell she was thinking.

  Chapter Six

  LENA

  Heat rose in my chest, rising up my neck and across my cheeks. I had no idea if it was the beginning of a panic attack or from hearing I'd be staying at Mace's house, sleeping there, for a couple of nights at least. Considering my thoughts were relatively clear, I assumed it was the latter, or, at least, hoped it was the latter since the last thing I wanted was to break down.

  I'd been doing so well over the last few weeks, with only a few minor attacks. I'd even stopped taking my antidepressants, much to Janie's chagrin. I'd explained to her, even though she was just a friend and not my therapist, that while they'd helped me manage in the past, I'd been slowly weaning myself off them. I’d met with my doctor several months back and told him my plan to wean off, and he was supportive of that as long as I started work on my behaviour therapy again. So I did. But this time, it was on my terms, my own plan, with some friendly help from Janie, even though she tried to set me up with an appointment with her colleague. At my refusal, she'd promised to watch out for me as a friend, making it clear that because of our relationship she couldn't counsel me. I grabbed the opportunity with eagerness, and readily accepted any support she could give me.

  Over the years, I'd had many therapy sessions. They'd worked really well at the time and had helped me to get to the point I was currently at. I knew I was stubborn, but after years of therapy and meds, I finally felt as though I was taking control of my actions and my responses to situations. I was far from magically healed, but my desire for complete control trumped all other logic. I would try. That was all I could do at this point. If I failed, then I would go to Plan B: back to the professionals.

  Knowing I was headed to Mace's, an unknown place, spiked my adrenaline. There was no time to ease me into it gradually. Instead, I'd need to find an alternative way to deal with my increasingly rapid heartbeat and shortness of breath. I took deep calming mouthfuls of air, aware that Mace had collected our coffees and moved the car. When I heard movement, I finally looked at him.

  Concern dipped his brows low. Gone was the usual confidence. Instead, his eyes roamed my face, no doubt looking for some sort of sign as to how I was handling it all.

  "Okay," I answered the unspoken question. "I can do this." I nodded. "Right?" My hesitant second-guessing was palpable in the small space.

  Mace offered me a small smile, his hands reaching out to clasp mine. Grounded by the contact, specifically his contact, I nodded again, this time a small smile lifting my lips. He looked at me while I gathered my thoughts and emotions, held back from interrupting me so I could handle it my way. I still wasn't quite sure how that would be, but a firmer sense of resolve formed in my chest.

  "I can do this," I repeated, this time ensuring I didn't tack on any uncertainty.

  Raising his hand, he smoothed a stray piece of hair away from my face. When the pad of his thumb caressed my cheek, I closed my eyes at the contact and released a sigh. Grounded. That was what this man did for me. I had no bloody idea what the hell was in his touch, but somehow his skin against mine, hell, any form of contact worked. Every time, without fail, I found myself leaning into the moment, absorbing it, soaking it all in.

  When his thumb brushed across my bottom lip, my eyes burst open in surprise. It was different, intimate, the first time he'd instigated any such contact. My stomach flipped and my breath hitched. I fought with the desire to latch on to his thumb and suck it into my mouth.

  Before I succumbed, he pulled away. I gulped audibly at the loss and offered a tentative smile when I soaked up his wide-eyed surprise.

  Clearing his throat, Mace gave me a firm nod and turned in his seat before pulling out and heading in the direction of my house, which I shared with my brother. It was a damn long, painful drive for the short ten minutes that it took. I was aware of every slight movement he made and every breath. It wasn't lost on me that his gaze was hard, his stare stoic as he refused to even glance in my direction. I just wondered how the hell I was going to survive my time alone with Mace. The thought left me grinning internally. Maybe if I was so focused on Mace, it would be enough for me to deal with the unexpected situation I'd found myself in.

  Only time could tell.

  #####

  I stared at myself in the unfamiliar bathroom mirror while brushing my teeth. Rather than the pale skin that usually went hand in hand with entering a new space or tackling the unknown, my cheeks were pink, and my eyes were bright. I spat my toothpaste out and grinned. I was so fucking proud of myself. Like seriously damn proud.

  After collecting some of my things to take to Mace's, he then spoke to me the entire journey to his place. He'd handed me his phone before we'd set off from mine and given me permission to scroll through his photographs. Confused, I did as he asked. Immediately I'd gasped and looked at him in awe. His jaw had been ticking and he’d had a hard grip on the steering wheel. When he didn't look my way, I’d refocussed on the images before me. They were of his house. It seemed every room was there, from different angles. He'd done this for me. "How?" I was at a loss for words.

  Over the few years that I'd known him, Mace had remained pretty much elusive. Most saw the hard and distant version of Mace; that wasn’t lost on me, but I saw so much more, and it was gestures like this that blew my mind.

  His voice was low and deep when he spoke. "I wanted to be prepared. I took them as soon as the decision was made for you to work for me." Still, he didn't look my way when my focus once more flicked to him.

  "Thank you," I whispered, catching myself before my voice broke with gratitude.

  Once more, he'd offered an abrupt nod, eyes still fixed on the road ahead. After a minute of quiet while I'd looked through the images, he'd continued to speak, talking me through the journey and his home, his routines.

  Drying off my mouth before I headed to the kitchen for a glass of water, I realised that gratitude didn't even scratch the surface. Mace had constantly gone above and beyond what anyone should do for a friend, let alone an employee. I h
ad no idea what that meant exactly. I thought back to when I'd ordered our drinks. There had been a moment there when I'd thought for sure he was going to kiss the crap out of me. The thought thrilled me as much as it scared me.

  The reality was, I hadn't kissed a guy since uni, and while I was speeding towards the need to throw myself at Mace and ask him to take me hard, screw the consequences, a part of me dreaded that with the contact, I may be thrown into memories I'd sooner forget.

  I shook off the direction of my thoughts, unwilling to become melancholy when things were finally looking up. I glanced down at my chest and made sure my PJ top was straight and concealed everything it should. The material was dark but thin, though high enough that it covered my cleavage. I inhaled deeply before stepping out of the bathroom and switching off the light behind me. The sooner I got to bed and away from the temptation of Mace, the better.

  That didn't seem to be as easy as I'd envisioned. Mace stood in the kitchen, beer in hand, leaning against the counter. He wore a tee that showed his bunched muscles and his ink. I found it impossible to pull my eyes away from his skin immediately. My gaze drifted down to his jean-clad legs and landed on his bare feet. Shit, his feet were sexy framed by denim, as well as big. A small movement as he shifted brought my eyes abruptly to his. I needed to get a hold of myself, and eye-fucking Mace wasn't exactly conducive to keeping my distance.

  I offered a small smile, hoping the heat flushing my cheeks was my imagination and that my embarrassment wasn't on full display for him to see. Our eyes connected for a moment before his roamed over my body. My traitorous nipples hardened under his scrutiny, and I had no doubt whatsoever that they stood proudly and on display for his inspection. Forcing my feet to work, I headed to the sink, just to the right of where he stood. I picked up the glass that sat on the drainer and filled it with water. I sipped some immediately, using it as a distraction as well as adding moisture to my dry mouth.