In Your Arms

by Shannyn Schroeder

  “You okay?”

  She nodded, the helmet wobbling a little. Her nerves quivered, and she was sure her body would start to tremble. She itched to move, so she dismounted. Sean climbed off and faced her. He unclasped the helmet and pulled it off. After setting it on his seat, he lowered his face to stare directly in her eyes.

  “You’re really tense right now. You were gripping so hard, I was sure something was wrong. I didn’t mean to scare you back there. You’re safe.”

  “I’m not afraid of you.” Although a small voice in her head argued that was dumb. She didn’t know him. After that display of anger, she should be afraid, but she wasn’t. “That guy . . . he scared me. I just . . .” She shook out her arms to rid herself of the tingling.

  Sean reached out tentatively like he might spook her. His hand on hers calmed her nerves. She stepped closer. “I think I’m buzzed.”

  “I think you might be drunk.”

  She shook her head, which made her dizzy. Maybe she was. But she could no longer tell where the alcohol left off and the adrenaline started. “We were getting out of there anyway. Where were you taking me?” She looked around. They were in a convenience store parking lot. “I don’t think you live here.”

  “No. I think I should take you home.”

  “I think you’re right. How far to your place?” At least if they were at his place, if she’d misread him, she could leave. Plus, it made her own escape easier. She couldn’t leave her own apartment and had no way of forcing a guy out.

  “I’m going to call my brother Tommy to bring me a car. I don’t think you’re sober enough for the back of the bike.”

  “Bullshit.” The accusation ticked her off. Admittedly, she was buzzed, but she could handle her liquor. It was one of the few talents her mother had passed on to her. “I’m fine on the bike.” She stepped closer still, as close as they had been when they had danced. “I like the way it feels to be wrapped around you.”

  She tipped her chin slightly and brushed her lips against his. That was all the urging he needed. His arms slid around her and pressed her body to his. He took over the kiss and she opened to him, knowing a guy like him wanted to be in charge. All bad boys did.

  He wrapped his hand in her hair and tugged tight enough to hold her where he wanted. The slight shock of pain sent a thrill through her. This. This was what she’d been missing. What she needed to take the edge off.

  She returned the favor by biting his lip. He hissed and pulled back. When he looked at her, she said, “Take me to your place.”

  This time, he didn’t argue. They climbed back on the motorcycle and left the parking lot. Sean drove them into a quiet residential neighborhood of single-family homes. Not an apartment in sight. Her radar immediately pinged. This was not a guy who had his shit together enough to own a house.

  She could write a book on how to pick up the man-boy. Sean parked and she shoved the thought away. This was about the weekend. About her getting what she wanted—no, needed—for the moment. Then she’d go back to her real life and look for what she should have. What she really wanted. At least find a guy who was adult enough to not live at home with mom.

  Sean held her hand and pulled her to the back of the building. When he moved toward basement steps, she pulled from his grasp. “Where are we going?”

  “My place.” He hitched his chin in the direction of the door. “My room’s in the basement.”

  “What are you? Twelve?”

  “My brother Tommy and I have it set up as our own place.”

  She sighed. “Do you at least have your own bedroom? Or am I supposed to screw you with an audience?”

  He laughed and reached for her hip. His voice dropped into the sexy range. “While I share a lot of things with my brother, a woman isn’t one.”

  Then he turned and pushed her toward the steps leading upstairs. “We can have a drink upstairs first so you can see I’m not a crazy guy looking to lock you in my basement.”

  She laughed a little at that. For a bad boy, Sean was pretty adept at reading things. He opened the back door and flicked on the light, flooding the kitchen. As he locked up, she saw how beat up his hand was. His knuckles were red and swollen.

  She winced. “You should ice your hand.”

  Sean reached into the refrigerator and handed her a bottle of beer. With his own bottle in one hand, he grabbed a bag of frozen green beans with the other. Emma took his beer from him and opened it.

  He flexed his hand and looked at it as if he hadn’t noticed before. “No big deal.”

  But it was a big deal. She’d been in similar situations too many times to recall. Her mom had taught her to smile and laugh it off, but Emma had never been able to do that. It rattled her every time. Memories of the guy pressing against her, trapping her, washed over her now. From deep in her bones, she felt every part of her start to tremble. To cover it, she gulped some beer.

  She gripped the bottle tightly as she set it on the table and took a seat across from Sean. He watched her closely. “You sure that guy didn’t do anything to you? I mean, other than get in your face?”

  She shook her head and didn’t like the way the room started to spin, so she answered, “No.”

  “You look really upset.”

  “I’m fine. Are we going downstairs or what?” Right now, she’d give almost anything to forget this day. She pushed off the table, wobblier than she’d thought she was.

  Sean stood, still eyeing her, and tossed his vegetables back in the freezer. She finished her beer and suddenly realized the goldfish crackers she’d eaten in her car were the closest thing she’d had to dinner. No wonder the alcohol had hit so hard. Sean grabbed her hand and led her downstairs.

  The basement was mostly unfinished. Concrete floor and walls. A washer and dryer sat against one side. Sean pulled her toward the back of the basement. Actually, the front of the house. There, crudely constructed walls divided the space.

  He pointed toward the corner. “That’s the bathroom. Tommy’s room is next to it. This one’s mine,” he added with his hand on the doorknob.

  She snickered. “This is your idea of having it set up like an apartment?”

  “It’s better than a mattress on the floor or sleeping on the living room couch.”

  The last remark hit home because that was exactly where she’d found Nicky more often than she cared to consider. So at least Sean was a step up from her loser brother.

  * * *

  Even as Sean led Emma into his bedroom, he knew he wasn’t getting laid tonight, which sucked because she was hot. But he recognized the asshole at the bar had freaked her out more than she wanted him to know, and she was also drunker than she let on.

  He pushed into his room, grateful he’d gathered his laundry that morning so she wouldn’t see what a mess the room usually was. He hadn’t even gotten the door closed before she had kicked off her shoes and peeled off her jeans.

  Shit. How was he supposed to be a good guy looking at that? Bright red panties barely covered her.

  “Come here.” She crooked a finger at him, and when his eyes met hers, he saw the glazed look. She probably wouldn’t remember any of this in the morning.

  He stepped closer. She pulled him hard, and they tumbled to the bed. She laughed but squeezed her eyes shut. “Whoa. The room kinda spinny for you too?”

  “No, sweetheart, that’s all you.”

  She slapped a hand across her eyes. “Crap.”

  “Are you gonna be sick?” He rose to grab his trash can.

  “No.” She peeked at him from under her fingers. “I swear I normally handle my liquor way better than this. I didn’t eat dinner, and then that guy . . .”

  “It’s fine. You want some food?”

  Her nose wrinkled. “Uh-uh. Not now.”

  He stood and pulled a blanket over her. “Sleep it off then.”

  “No. Just give me a minute and we’ll continue.”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Why?” Her
voice was small when she asked.

  He didn’t like that. “I prefer my women be active participants when we fuck, but it’s an absolute requirement they be conscious.”

  “I’m conscious,” she mumbled.

  He shook his head. “Not for long.” He turned off the light and left, knowing she’d be out in a minute. He went back upstairs to enjoy a beer and maybe find some food. Ever since Jimmy moved out, the frequency of their grocery shopping had plummeted. Norah had taken over for a while, but then she’d said she was fed up with taking care of them. He and Tommy sometimes made a trip, but it was hit or miss.

  Opening the refrigerator, he sighed. Plenty of beer. A questionable gallon of milk. Half a loaf of bread. Leaving the door open he checked the cabinet for peanut butter. He found ajar and grabbed the bread. A peanut butter sandwich was better than nothing.

  He sat at the kitchen table chewing on bread that was about a day from stale when Tommy walked in. “Hey,” he said as he opened the fridge. “Crap.”

  “Yeah, that’s about what I was thinking. We need to go shopping.”

  Tommy groaned, then took a slice of bread from the bag.

  “Don’t walk around naked tonight. I have a girl over.”

  Tommy’s eyebrows rose. “Then what the hell are you doing up here eating crappy peanut butter?”

  “She’s asleep.”

  Tommy laughed and sat across from him. “Sad day in the world when an O’Malley man can’t even keep his woman awake.”

  “Maybe it was so good she couldn’t keep up.”

  “Nice try. If it was that good, you’d be knocked out next to her. Which means you failed.”

  “Shut the fuck up. She was upset and drank too much. I’m letting her sleep it off.” He finished the sandwich, brushed crumbs off his shirt, and went to the sink. Turning the faucet on, he stuck his face beneath the stream and gulped water.

  “Is she hot?”

  “What?”

  “The girl. Is she hot?”

  “Would she be here if she wasn’t?”

  “Then maybe I should accidentally run into her coming out of the bathroom. Let her see what she could have.” Tommy puffed out his chest as he spoke.

  Sean knew it was the usual brother-poking-fun shit, so he smiled. “You can try. She might laugh her ass off at your scrawny body. But whatever.”

  Tommy frowned. “I’m not that scrawny anymore.”

  “Keep telling yourself that.”

  Even if Tommy had been built like a boxer, he wouldn’t try to steal a girl from Sean. He didn’t have it in him. He was all talk.

  Sean headed to the basement door and paused. “It’s weird, isn’t it?”

  “What?”

  “Coming in the kitchen door in the middle of the night and not having Jimmy running around the corner with his gun because he thought we were thieves.”

  “Not weird. I’m enjoying it. Bringing a girl down the back stairs to avoid Jimmy always made me feel like a creeper.”

  Sean laughed. Tommy hit it exactly. He still missed having Jimmy around, even though he nagged like an old lady. Everyone was moving on, falling in love and shit. Thankfully he had years before he needed to think about that. He had no idea why everyone was in such a hurry to fill their lives with responsibility.

  “Keep your pants on.”

  He went back to his bedroom and turned on the lamp near the bed. Emma was sprawled all over the mattress. The blanket was half on the floor, and one pillow was near her feet. She lay on her stomach, arms and legs spread. Her ass cheeks were still barely covered. He inhaled deeply, wishing she’d remained conscious.

  He stripped off his T-shirt, and before climbing in bed, he saw a tattoo stamped across her lower back where her tank top crept up. Leaning closely, he inched the shirt a fraction higher. A tangled mass of black thorns wove over her lower back, but near the center, if you looked closely, a heart. The work was decent. Not as good as Tommy’s, but not horrible either.

  After grabbing the blanket from the edge, he threw it over her and turned off the light. He was warm enough he wouldn’t need a blanket. He sure as hell didn’t need to be cuddling with Emma.

  Damn Jimmy. This was his fault. If Jimmy hadn’t drilled into his younger brothers the importance of helping someone who needed it, especially a woman, Sean never would’ve stopped on the highway. It wasn’t like Emma had needed him. She had a phone and a plan to get towed.

  No matter how much he avoided turning into Jimmy, though, there were some things he couldn’t escape. Like helping a woman.

  Sean flexed his hand, which still felt tight and a little swollen. If he hadn’t stopped to help Emma, she never would’ve been in that bar. In his gut, he knew she hadn’t belonged there. It didn’t matter that she’d worn fuck-me shoes or hopped on the bike of a total stranger or had a tramp stamp. Something about all the contradictions didn’t ring true. She wasn’t like the usual chicks he picked up, but he couldn’t figure out why.

  It had been his fault she’d been there to be assaulted by a drunk. It had felt good to beat the crap out of that guy. He’d forgotten the rush he got from fighting.

  Emma flipped over and kicked at the covers again. Then she turned and her arm flopped across his stomach. If he hadn’t taken her to that bar, she wouldn’t be here now, so there was that. And she’d seemed even more turned on after the fight. Tomorrow was a new day. He didn’t have to work, and since she was a teacher, she always had weekends free. Maybe he could convince her to spend the day right here.

  * * *

  Emma’s eyes popped open and she stared into the dark room. Brushing her hair off her face, she lifted her head and saw Sean sleeping beside her. The events from the night before came rushing back. Was it morning? She had no way of knowing since they were in a dark basement bedroom. She glanced down at her body. Still wearing her tank top and underwear.

  She remembered wanting to have sex with Sean, wanting to forget for a little bit. But she’d crashed from adrenaline and alcohol, and he’d told her to sleep it off. In that way, he was vastly different from the guys she usually picked up for a night. Her usual mistakes wouldn’t have cared how drunk she was. She eased out of the bed and scooped up her pants and bag as she tried to remember where the bathroom was.

  Outside the bedroom, she saw two doors to the left. One open and one closed. She banked on the open one being the bathroom. Through the small windows along the wall by the washing machine, she saw sunlight, so it was definitely morning. She crept through the open door and found the bathroom.

  Setting her bag on the toilet tank, she rummaged through it to fix herself up. She found a hair tie, ran her fingers through her hair and pulled it back. The bathroom was bare bones. A toilet, a pedestal sink, and a shower stall. In the medicine cabinet, she found a tube of toothpaste. She pulled a toothbrush from her bag and brushed her teeth. Once again, she was grateful she always carried necessities with her. A childhood of uncertainty had taught her well.

  A quick knock on the door was followed by Sean’s voice. “You okay?”

  “Yeah. I’ll be right out.” She tugged her pants on. So much for a quick escape.

  “Hurry up. Tommy’s cooking breakfast, and if we’re not quick, Norah will eat it all.”

  Emma paused, not sure how to respond. Her immediate instinct was to tell him to go on without her, but then she realized he’d invited her to eat with his family. Weird. She opened the door to find him practically bouncing on his toes. He was shirtless and his jeans were open. She scanned him, seeing a couple more tattoos she hadn’t noticed last night. “What’s the big deal about breakfast?”

  “Tommy doesn’t cook often. None of us do, but when he does, his crêpes are fantastic. Come on.” He reached out and grabbed her hand.

  Emma snickered at Sean saying crêpes. What the hell did a guy like him know about crêpes?

  In the kitchen, a guy she assumed was Tommy stood at the stove, also shirtless. He was smaller than Sean, but had more ink on his b
ody. He glanced over his shoulder at them. His eyes were also blue, but a few shades darker. “Hey,” he said.

  “Hi, I’m Emma.” Introducing herself felt so pointless since she would likely never see him again.

  “Tommy,” he answered. He pointed to a plate on the table. “Better hurry. Norah already had seconds and is talking about wrapping some up for Kai. I have Nutella and strawberry.”

  “The hell she is. This is mine.” Sean sat at the table and kicked the chair out next to him. “Sit.”

  She sat and Sean served her a plate of food.

  Tommy added more crêpes to the ones on the table. He pinned Sean with a stare. “You better appreciate the fact that I got my ass up early and went shopping.”

  “I do.”

  “Then you get to clean up.”

  Emma stifled a smile watching Sean be outwitted by his little brother.

  Sean squinted at Tommy, but didn’t argue. “Did Dad eat?”

  “Just his usual coffee. Norah’s making him check his blood now.”

  Emma tried to ignore the normal conversation going on around her as if she belonged. She poked at the crêpe. It smelled great. Putting a piece in her mouth made her moan. It practically melted on her tongue. “Oh my gosh. This is fantastic.”

  “I don’t joke when it comes to home-cooked food. It happens too rarely.”

  Emma knew how that worked. Her childhood meals had mostly come out of a box. It was one of the many things she was attempting to remedy in her adult life. This breakfast was a good reminder of why she was changing how she lived. “Can I get this recipe?”

  “Sure,” Tommy answered without turning from the stove.

  A few minutes later, he sat across from her with a yellow recipe box. Emma stifled a giggle. A freaking recipe box? That was one thing she definitely hadn’t seen coming. He poked through cards and said, “I don’t use the card anymore since I’ve made this enough I know how without looking it up.”

  He slid a card in front of her. In pretty cursive writing in black ink, the recipe was written out. She looked at Tommy with a raised eyebrow.

  “It’s my mom’s box. She died when we were little. I found this a couple of years ago, and every now and then, I try a new recipe.”