by Becca Lee
I cleared my throat quietly. "I'm ready for bed." I then looked at him and watched as he turned his head and gazed down at me.
"Okay." His eyes were dark and intense. I turned and faced him, waiting for his support. Immediately, he reached out and took my free hand in his and brought it between us. I closed my eyes at the contact, a flicker of relief registering and spreading through me. Tightening his hand around mine a fraction, he spoke. "Come on then, Lena." My eyes sprang open, a smile already on my lips as I gazed up at him.
I nodded and allowed him to lead me to what would be my room. It was opposite his. Once inside, Mace released my hand and hovered in the doorway. He seemed momentarily uncertain. It didn't last long though before his mask reappeared.
"You good?"
I looked around the room again. "Yes, thanks." I wasn't quite sure if my response was a lie or not. On one hand, I felt surprisingly at ease, but once he left, I had no idea how I'd react.
"Okay." Mace offered me a smile and pulled the door to as he retreated.
"Mace!" I called. The door opened. "Can you leave it open, please?"
"Sure thing." He ensured the door was fully open before moving to his own bedroom door. With his hand on the handle and me hovering near my bed, he turned to look at me. "'Night, Lena."
He stepped inside and went to close his door. My heart constricted. "Mace!" I called, my voice pitched high and seeming crazy loud in the quiet house. His head popped back around the door, a frown marring his handsome features. "Erm, do you mind…?" I eyed his door, mortified at my request and unable to voice my words fully.
"No problem." He pushed his door wide open and retreated in his room.
I quickly slid under the sheets and couldn't help but lift my head off the pillow and peek. Through my open doorway, I watched Mace, his back to me, remove his T-shirt. His thick muscles bunched at the movement, rippling under coloured ink. I was too far away to see the intricate detail, but from this distance, I saw a large dragon wrapped around a stunning woman. It was beautiful. My eyes continued to roam down his back, and I realised the ink went lower, disappearing below the jeans that clung to his arse like a second skin.
He stepped out of sight for a moment before returning, this time sans jeans and just wearing black boxer briefs. I all but swallowed my tongue as I took my fill and quickly slammed my head back on my pillow before he caught me. It was going to be a hell of a few days if this was my reaction every time I saw a sliver of skin. As I drifted to sleep, a mantra of “bad idea” ran in a loop through my mind.
I sit at the table by myself, the hustle and bustle of the busy café rushing around me. After agreeing to meet Malcolm and Julie at their favourite coffee haunt in the city for our cramming session, I’m relieved I've arrived early and snagged a table. I rarely hit this part of the city; it's too far from campus to be convenient, but as it’s close to Julie's apartment, I agreed.
Two men walk in. Usually, I wouldn't even notice, but I raise my brows at their heavy clothing. While Melbourne is known for its four seasons in a day, a coat in the middle of March, especially when it's at least twenty-nine degrees Celsius outside, seems overzealous. As the two guys head towards the counter, one makes eye contact with me and smiles. He's cute, so I offer a tentative smile in return before turning my gaze back to my phone.
Then all hell breaks loose.
I clamp my hand over my mouth, holding back my scream. If I scream, I'm dead. I can't pull my eyes away from the young boy sprawled on the ground, not five metres away from where I'm cowering. He's not moving, and his eyes are open. The scream threatens again, but I can hear movement and know if I make a noise, I'll be found.
From the depths of my stomach, I find the courage to peep around the table that's on its side. I know there's a restroom next to me. I have to make it there. Get away from the chaos. Seeing my opportunity as the two armed men walk to the other side of the room, I take my chance. It has to be now. I duck inside the room, and open a stall door, locking it behind me and clambering onto the seat. I perch on top, my trembling fist in my mouth to ease my sobs.
Loud shots echo around the room outside, making me jump, but it’s the screams that stab through me. All I can do is wait and hope I'm safe. Wait and hope I'm rescued.
I have no idea how long I've been hiding. Amidst the horror in the café, I dropped my phone. Burying my head against my knees, I try to steady my breathing. It's working until the creaking of the door alerts me that I'm not alone.
I hold my breath and press both hands against my closed mouth. Wide-eyed, I stare at the door and jump when the stall door beside me slams open. Heart stuttering, palms sweating, I know I'm not getting out of here.
Thud. My locked door shakes at the contact, and I can't suppress the sob from breaking free.
"Pretty girl, is that you?"
Tears flow down my cheeks as I hold on to my legs and remain as still as possible.
"You sure have a pretty smile. Want to let me in?"
Oh, God! The door bangs again, this time harder, louder. Again, and I watch in horror as a screw dislodges. My heart is about to burst out of my ribcage, but I can't move. I gasp for breath, not realising I've been holding it. I should be escaping, looking for a way out, but my limbs are frozen, unwilling to move.
Another bang; this time the door slams open.
My scream followed me out of my dream. I cut it off abruptly, immediately remembering where I was. Sitting up, I covered my face with my sweaty palms and reminded myself to breathe. There were some days when I reminded myself to do that a lot. I’d never known something as simple, as natural, as taking a breath could be so damn fucking hard. Inhale. Exhale. As simple as fucking breathing. A humourless laugh escaped me, filling the bedroom. The false smile fell when I remembered the last point of my dream. My memory.
Some nights I slept peacefully. Some nights I even found it in me to have good dreams, but others were play-by-plays of that day. There were times that the details altered, though. I'd wake up at different moments. It could be when the first shot hit the young guy making coffee. Other times it was when blood splattered in my face. Or the moment in the bathroom stall.
I tended to wake up at that scream, though, not ignorant to the fact that the scream was virtually identical to the one from that day. Rarely did the dream, the nightmare, take me past that point. Only occasionally did I relive the cold steel of the gun pressed against my forehead, or the blade cutting through my top, slicing my skin. At times, it ended once I heard footsteps charging into the room, shouts from the police, my saviours, to finally experience once more the dead body of the man at my feet.
It didn't really matter either way. I'd never forget. It wouldn't matter how much I healed. How can the bodies of eighteen people ever be erased from my mind?
They couldn't.
The slam of a door and the pounding of feet down the hallway left me clutching my damp sheets to my chest. I didn't dare move or scoot further away from the door. Instead, I waited.
"Lena?"
Mace. I exhaled deeply and inhaled much-needed oxygen. Breathe.
He appeared in the open doorway fully dressed. Without hesitating, he headed into the room and knelt by my side.
"I heard you scream." Reaching out, he brushed strands of hair away from my face and cupped my cheek. I leaned into the touch and relaxed a little. "I'm sorry I didn't get to you sooner. Did you have a bad dream?"
I nodded against his hand.
"What do you need?" Mace's eyes roamed my face, the pad of his thumb sweeping against my skin.
"To breathe." The words tumbled out of my mouth unbidden.
He stared at me a moment, his hand pausing its soothing caress. He hesitated, just a flicker appearing in his eyes before he stood and pulled off his boots. He then walked around the bed and climbed on, scooting over until he was next to me.
"Come here." His tone was soft and warm. When I looked into his eyes, understanding shone back at me.
I read
justed myself and welcomed his comfort as I settled in his arms against his chest. I brushed my face against the cotton of his T-shirt, getting comfortable. "What time is it?" I asked.
"About four."
I tilted my head back to look at him. "Why are you up?"
At my question, he glanced down at me. After a pause, he answered, "I couldn't sleep, so I grabbed a drink and sat out on the deck."
I waited for more, but he didn't expand. Nodding, I looked away from his face and got myself comfortable, enjoying the steady beat of his heart against my cheek. Mace wrapped an arm around me, securing me to him. A ghost of a smile appeared on my lips, and I put all of my energy into absorbing the moment. It was a much better alternative than remembering the past.
Chapter Seven
MACE
There was no way in hell I could sleep with Lena pressed up against me. I was used to my own nightmare startling me awake, so waking at 3:00 a.m. was the norm. Usually, I'd be able to get maybe an hour at five, before dragging my arse outta bed for work. That was not happening, though.
Not only was I trapped beneath her warm body, but I was also caught up in remembering her scream. I'd heard it all the way from the deck. The sound had chilled my veins, all but stilling my heart. It also had made me move so goddamn fast back into the house that I wasn't quite sure if the wall had survived its impact with the door I'd slammed open.
Her breaths were steady. Not that the knowledge made me relax. Instead, I was aware of every sound, every slight movement, and fuck, when her leg clamped over mine and then, about half an hour later, lifted up to rest just below my cock, brushing against it in the process, hell, I had no fucking control over the damn erection I was sporting.
The sun was finally up, but there was no chance I was moving. The last thing I wanted was to wake her after the night she'd had. I wondered if her nightmares were about the attack in Melbourne and if they played out the same every time and every night.
I glanced down at her. She looked so damn young, and far too innocent to be in my arms. But I also knew better. Diesel had told me how close she'd come to being killed, that she’d even had a gun aimed at her head, and came away with a scar on her chest. I gritted my teeth, looking away, and prevented myself from dragging her even closer into my arms.
Loss and scumbags: those were two areas of my life that I wished I knew nothing about. Instead, I felt the gripping pain of loss daily. It weighed heavily in my soul, while the other, the scumbags of this world, I actively sought out.
A breathy sigh pulled my attention back to Lena. She shifted, virtually lying on top of me, her knee brushing against me once more. The contact was firmer, dragging a groan from my lips. I held still, hoping I didn't wake her, though knowing I really should try to escape from beneath her.
For the first time in years, the desire for something more, something intangible, became more urgent. And all of it revolved around the woman asleep in my arms.
Another sigh escaped her lips and her hand moved up from my chest to the juncture between my shoulder and neck. Her head snuggled in closer to me, her face angling slightly so her warm breath brushed over my skin. She was a goddamn siren, every sigh calling to me, drawing me closer to risking something I had no right to risk in the first place.
I knew when she woke. With the new position of her head, I couldn't see her face, but her breathing changed and her muscles became rigid. Remaining still and breathing steadily, I waited for her to react. No amount of homework on anxiety had prepared me for this. Lena shifted her leg slightly, rubbing against my hard cock. I grunted, and she immediately pulled back, looking at me in alarm.
"Shit, erm… I'm so sorry."
With her leg no longer against my dick, I was able to breathe again. I offered a light smile and a small shrug. "It's all good. You needed to sleep."
She moved her hand and brushed it against her mouth before sighing lightly in apparent relief. I quirked my brow.
An awkward laugh escaped her lips. "Just checking for drool."
I barked out an unexpected laugh. It was not what I was expecting to come out of her mouth at all. This woman was full of damn surprises. "No drool," I said with a grin.
Her small smile stretched into a full grin. "That's a relief. The last thing I needed was to drool on a hot guy." Her eyes widened, and I was sure mine mirrored hers. A sexy blush spread across her cheeks, and she cleared her throat. "So, erm…" She cleared it again. "What time is it?"
It pained me as much as I celebrated her change in subject. Anything less would be treading on dangerous ground. I glanced at the clock. "Just gone seven thirty." Looking back at her, I noticed her embarrassment had calmed, and she seemed less vulnerable. "There's no rush. It's Saturday." I had no fucking idea what the day of the week had to do with anything. Usually I was at the office anyway on a Saturday. It was a day I could actually get stuck into work without the distraction Lena presented.
It wasn't that she was a hindrance. Hell, she'd already gotten me organised and smoothed over new gigs with ease. Her working for me made my life a damn sight easier, but that didn't mean every time I heard her move around the reception, or I caught a glance of her, that I didn't get lost in the thought of burying my face between her thighs. This made Saturday easier to get work that required my full focus done.
Shit, it's Saturday. The implication hit me. "So," I ventured, my eyes following her as she sat up in the bed next to me and crossed her legs. I fought to keep my eyes from roaming over her form. "What do you usually do on a weekend?"
Her eyes snapped to mine and then she shrugged. "I just hang out really. Maybe watch a movie. Read. Sometimes I head to the clubhouse if some of the girls are there."
I nodded as she spoke. Over the last few weeks, her confidence with me had grown exponentially. Yet every time her gaze hit mine, it was still like the damn first time all over again. I was bowled over by how goddamn hot she was. Fuck it. She was beautiful. Who was I kidding to presume any less?
"Well, the clubhouse is out of the question until Diesel gives the all-clear."
She nodded her understanding. "What do you do?"
"I head to the office usually," I admitted.
A frown creased her brow. "Why?"
I could hardly tell her the damn truth. "Just to get shit done."
She still looked confused when she asked, "But there's nothing major going on, right? Nothing you don't get done during the week?"
I couldn't lie to her. It was hard enough keeping my feelings towards her hidden away as it was. "There are no distractions if I'm there by myself."
Understanding flashed across her face. Her eyes widened and a light flush spread across her cheeks. "I'm sorry."
I had no idea what she was apologising for. "For what?"
"That you have to look out for me. I didn't realise I was stopping you doing your job." I watched her gulp and a look I didn't like seeing flashed in her eyes. Vulnerability. "I can talk to Diesel about working back at the club. Shit, I'm sorry." Before I even had time to react, she clambered out of bed and raced across to the bathroom.
I remained on my arse, bewildered, before I surged into action. "Fuck!" I headed to the bathroom, my hand hovering over the door handle. I leaned in close to listen. A soft sob hit my ears, throwing me into action. Relief filtered through me that she hadn't thought to lock it. My eyes then met hers in the mirror. Even with pink tinges around her eyes and tears staining her cheeks, she was stunning.
I stepped towards her, her eyes tracking my movement. Standing behind her, I reached out, eyes connected to hers, and then turned her to face me. I pulled Lena against my chest, wrapping my arms around her. I sighed and rested my chin on top of her head when her palms pressed against my back.
"I don't want you anywhere but by my side." I knew the double meaning behind those words, but fuck, Lena upset and vulnerable just about unravelled me. "You got me?"
I felt her nod against my chest, yet still she said, "But—"
"
But nothing."
"But you said I was distract—"
"Fuck, Lena." She froze in my arms, her muscles becoming taut. "Everything about you is a goddamn distraction, but I can't not see you every fucking workday. You're a good distraction. Too fucking good."
I allowed Lena to angle herself away from me, her hands still on my back. I closed my eyes briefly, avoiding looking at myself in the mirror and needing a moment to prepare myself for looking down at her.
"Mace."
My eyes sprang open, and I tilted my head down immediately to look at her. My name on her lips had been whispered on a sigh. Her gaze hit mine, her deep browns staring at me with a need I had no right to.
"Kiss me."
I barely had time to register her breathy, tentative request before she raised herself towards me, wrapped her arms around my neck, and pulled my lips to meet hers.
I was lost.
Gone.
Left utterly adrift.
The kiss, her lips against my own, shifted my world. Need slammed into me, all thoughts of resistance, of denying myself the goodness of Lena, torn apart and cast aside.
I hauled her up into my arms, grabbing her arse, lifting her and securing her legs around my waist. I stepped forward so her backside perched on the sink, not breaking free from our kiss.
I ghosted my tongue against her lips, and she opened to me willingly, her tongue sweeping against mine. I groaned at the contact and squeezed her thighs, pushing my cock against the thin material covering her pussy. She gasped at the touch and rubbed herself against me, stretching her legs wider, giving me full access.
A small part of my brain told me to stop, to pull away, to protect her not fuck her. I shut it down. It was too late. I needed to be buried deep inside her as much as I needed the air in my lungs. Fuck the consequences.
I moved one hand and wrapped it around the back of her neck, drawing her closer. My other hand roamed to one of her tits, and I stroked across her nipple. It puckered instantly, and she pushed against my hand.
