by Amy Cook
“You never cease to amaze me, kid. Just when I think I’ve hit the height of ya, ya pull somethin’ new out to throw me through a loop.”
Amiel grinned contentedly. “No pressure. I’m going to have to start learning new circus tricks, like tightrope walking, to keep you in the element of surprise.”
His hand went to his heart, wincing. “No new tricks, please. There’s only so much this heart can take. I’m pretty sure I’d have a heart attack if I saw ya up so high on a rope. You’d fall and break your neck on the first step.” He grinned cheekily, and she scowled playfully.
“Well, so much for my amazingness, gosh.”
He grinned, resting his forehead to hers, so content, so relaxed. She loved it. And she loved that she was the one who had been able to bring this feeling to him.
“Go on a date with me.” The words were spoken with such quiet confidence that she paused for just a moment to take in the true depth of what he’d said, the leaps and bounds he was taking.
“A date?”
He nodded against her. “Yeah. I’ve never been on one. I want that with ya, too.”
Her heart melted at the sincerity in his voice. “Okay, when?”
“Day after tomorrow?”
“Sure. I don’t have a job anymore, so I’ve got all the time in the world.”
“You’re gonna have to tell me about that.” He pulled back, grinning brightly. “I wanna know what my lil hellcat’s been up to while I was away.”
“Your wish is my command.”
His smile was heart-stopping. He rolled on his back, pulling her along with him so that she lay on her side, arm sprawled across his chest. He grinned contentedly, humming a grunt of approval. Amiel smirked, resting her head against his shoulder.
“You’re just a big, fluffy lion wanting cuddles, aren’t you,” she teased. He huffed, but didn’t bother correcting her as he fiddled with the watch on her wrist. His eyes suddenly widened, pulling the watch closer to his eyes in the dim lighting.
“Is that the real time?” He glanced at the clock by her bed, and rolled off the bed. “Crap, I gotta go.”
“Hey, I was just teasing. You don’t cuddle. Cuddling is for wimps, and you certainly aren’t a wimp. You are big scary lion, hear you roar. Rawrr!”
He scoffed before leaning back over her, caging her against the mattress.
“You’ll have to hear me roar later. I was supposed to be back at Foundation an hour ago. They’re gonna be ticked, especially since I’ve been MIA all week. And if I’m any later, I’ll be put on probation, and y’all won’t get to get your butt kicked at the gym tomorrow, or go on an amazin’, life changin’ date with me the day after that.”
His lips pressed to hers in a quick kiss that was only quick in the sense of how fast it turned into a longer, deeper kiss. Grumbling, he finally pulled away from her, swiftly moving to the other side of the apartment as though afraid he’d never escape. Amiel couldn’t help but follow him, drawing him in for yet another kiss as he opened the door.
“Remember, date with a full course of butt kickin’ tomorrow.”
She grinned, fingers lingering on her lips. “Can’t wait, Superman.”
He offered another heartbreaking smile before rushing down the hall. Amiel shut the door, slumping against it with a dazed, dreamy smile. Wow, did that boy know how to kiss. She fanned herself, feeling slightly lightheaded and dizzy. Pushing away from the door with a chuckle, she set about preparing for bed.
Chapter 45
Amiel
“Come on, put your weight into it, spaghetti arms!” Harley chuckled. He stood bare-chested, skin slicked with sweat, arms clasped behind his head. His shoulders were drawn forward, his whole body curving in slightly so that every muscle in his torso was flexed. Amiel laughed, a little breathless as she slammed her fists into his abs.
“Hush, you! It’s like punching a bowl of jelly. I’m afraid I’ll lose my hand inside it if I hit it any harder.”
Harley laughed, loud and hard, the most easygoing laugh she’d ever heard. He’d been doing it for the last two hours of their training, and it was the best medicine any heart could ask for.
“There once was a girl with arms of spaghetti. Couldn’t tell rock from a bowl full of jelly,” Harley teased, in an Irish-accented, singsong way.
“Okay, what’s with the spaghetti references? I’m still waiting for the grand reveal of your training surprise involving tomato sauce.” She grunted, pushing her arms to swing harder.
“What?” Harley’s nose scrunched up, distracting her with its cute factor. She stood straight, taking a breather.
“You told me we were going to train harder so I could learn control. I asked how, and you just smiled and said ‘tomato sauce.’ So what was that?”
“Oh, that. I just didn’t know what to say, so I threw that out there. I was probably hungry.” Harley shrugged, laughing harder when she gave him an annoyed look.
“Are you kidding me?” Amiel shouted, throwing shorter, more powerful jabs into his gut.
“That’s been buggin’ ya this whole time, ain’t it?” He preened.
“No!”
“Sure.” He smirked, before finally holding up his hands in surrender. “Ow! Okay, okay, hellcat, that’s enough! Leave my bowl full of jelly alone.” He gave her a pouty look that was completely undermined by the permanent grin that quirked his lips. “Ow. I think you broke a rib.”
“Aww, did the wittle baby get hurt?” Amiel smirked, mocking him.
“Yeah, I think I need ya to kiss it better.” Mischief twinkled in his eyes.
“I have a better idea.” She pressed closer, sliding her knee between his. He immediately sobered, watching her carefully.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. Lay down and take a nap.” She hooked her leg around the back of his ankle and pushed as hard as she could, off-balancing him. He tipped over, but her plan didn’t work so great, since he pulled her down with him, strong arms wrapping around to trap her as he fell. He chuckled as she squirmed against him, trying to escape.
“Okay, but only if you take a nap too.”
She squirmed until she managed to slip out of his grip. “You’re slippery when ya get all sweaty and worked up. Like a greased pig,” he teased, making a grab for her.
She jumped out of the way with a triumphant laugh: one that was cut short when he swept out a leg and knocked hers out from under her. He moved to tackle her, but she rolled away, coming up into a crouch. He took a step forward, she took a step back. He moved to the left, she moved to the right. His devilish smirk grew as he made a false leap toward her, sending her running behind the punching bag with a squeak.
“What’s a matter, kid, afraid of the big bad wolf?”
She swallowed hard at the change in his tone, the way his body language shifted, turning into a beast on the prowl. Excitement stirred in her, pupils pulsing as her other side let her know it was up for this new game growing between them.
“What’s the matter, Harley, afraid of having to work for your reward?”
His pupils flared, Hybrid rising to answer her coy challenge. And his grin, oh his grin, became a dark medley of every bad boy crush every girl on the planet ever dreamed of. And it was all hers for the heart-melting pleasure.
“Then you’d better run for it, little red,” he growled in a dark but playful tone. Her eyes widened as he crouched, and she realized it was game on. She took off running, seconds before he sprang into attack. She felt his fingers brush the back of her tank top, barely missing, and she let out a startled laugh. She dropped to the ground, sliding under the punching bag, her leg shooting out to slam the bag back toward him when she came out on the other side. He lithely dodged around it, once again barely missing her as she sprang to her feet and ran across the room. He was gaining on her, so she took the offensive.
Kicking off one of the pillars in the room to give her leverage, she twisted and shot back at him. His eyes widened as she flew toward him, and he had
just enough time to hold out his hands to catch her. They went down, rolling with the fall, both fighting for top position. Amiel grinned triumphantly as she straddled him, her knees trying to pin his elbows to his sides. He easily flipped her over, weight coming down to squish her into the mat.
“I win,” he mumbled, breathing heavily with more than exertion. Amiel swallowed, drowning in his gaze. The pupils were dilated, leaving only a thin ring of arctic blue, and she could feel his Hybrid staring back at her. She felt how much it had enjoyed their little game. Its open evaluation, its acceptance and longing for her drew Amiel like a riptide, dragging her along in its current. Her Hybrid sat at the surface, eagerly devouring every ounce of it, answering his in an entirely primal way. Amiel swallowed, shifting about with a nervous energy that bounced around inside like a hyper ping pong ball. In her shifting, Amiel’s legs tightened around Harley's waist. Seemingly unconscious of the reaction, he pressed closer, pressing her further against the mats. Her mind scrabbled for something to say.
“So.” The word came out in a whispery form, her throat suddenly very dry. “What about the tattoo? What do we do about that?”
His Hybrid eyes slid along her skin until they reached the tattoo. His fingers followed, ever so lightly tracing the lines. Her eyes fluttered shut, breath sifting through parted lips.
“Let me worry about that.” His reply was quiet, consoling, yet held such a depth of strength that Amiel never once doubted that he would take care of it, take care of her. He always had and always would. Even when she made stupid mistakes like she had last night. He was a true friend, and something infinitely more dear to her heart. Dangerously so. She didn’t have the chance to worry about losing her heart to him. She already had, so long ago that she wasn’t even sure of the exact moment it had happened. But falling for someone wasn’t that scary, not when you had a man like the one before her.
Leaning on one elbow to keep his full weight from smooshing her, Harley’s other hand slid down to grip her waist. It squeezed, kneaded, and her body arched upward of its own volition, trying to press impossibly closer to him. They were lost in their own world, the two of them, Hybrids so wrapped up in one another it was difficult to tell where she ended and he began.
She became deliciously aware of everything around her. She had that tingly feeling that happened when the hairs on her skin stood on end, skin tightening from the effect; the sensation that always came with Harley's presence. Only now, with him so intimately close, the sensation was swiftly shifting to perilous new levels. Harley's breath danced across the overheated skin of her neck and face as he stared down at her. She was filled with the heady desire to feel it skate across every inch of her skin. The air in the room was suddenly heavy and warm, carrying the scent that never failed to enthrall her. With everything so intensely magnified, she was able to better identify the intricacies of his smell. It was a spicy musk of cloves, cinnamon and leather. Like Christmas and Thanksgiving on the back of a motorcycle. Harley.
She breathed deeply, nostrils flaring to drink in as much of the scent as possible. It stirred a wild yearning within her that she had only felt whispers of in her most tantalizing of dreams. It terrified, it thrilled. Her fingers clutched at his shoulders in a desperate way, unsure if it was to push him away or pull him closer. Their eyes met, and that dark swirling within her roared to fevered life.
Eyes narrowing, he leaned in. Only a breath of space separated their chests, which pressed together with each intake of air, sending the chaos inside her careening further. He might as well have been a furnace, the way she could feel the heat radiating off him, feel it kissing her skin like the rays of midday sun. One large, dangerously graceful hand shifted to press against the floor beside her head, the stubble on his jaw lightly scraping the skin of her cheek. The urge to turn toward it struck, and she blinked hard, trying to clear the fog shifting across her mind, blocking her inhibitions. She was fairly certain that wanting to lick someone’s scruff just wasn’t normal, or at least not allowed at this point in their budding relationship.
The hand on her hip slid down, over her thigh, pausing at the knee to give it a squeeze before pulling it tighter to his waist. His nose ran the length of her jaw, the shell of her ear, skimmed down her neck as his palm slid back up her thigh, leaving trails of fire in its wake. Amiel's eyes fluttered shut and she sighed when he growled deep in his throat, teeth lightly scraping across her neck. His lips followed, soft kisses peppering her skin.
Amiel's fingers clutched at his shoulders, pulling him closer; Hybrid desires intermeshing with her own made her feel bold, confident, strong, primal and wild. Everything that she wasn't in real life, but had always dreamed of being. Floating in the haze of predatory need, she felt like she was in a dream. And right now, she couldn't care less if this was reality or not. She just wanted, needed, more. Her nails skimmed up his sides, and she smiled devilishly as he shuddered, pressing his head into the crook of her neck, ragged breath tickling down into her shirt, across her chest. With unerring certainty, he found her frantic pulse, pressing a devout kiss to it.
Every touch, every breath, every flare of his heat laid further claim on her soul, until she felt that he was devouring her. And she loved every moment of it, all too eager to surrender to the torrent carrying them both away. She sank her fingers into his deliciously soft, golden hair, tugging lightly. He froze for a moment, before lifting his head to rest it against her forehead.
“You undo me,” he murmured gruffly, caressing her jaw with his thumb. The tone and action were so at odds with one another: gruffness and gentility. They were so entirely Harley. She smiled softly. They lay like that for a long moment, both breathing heavily, both weathering the storms within. Ever so slowly, he pressed her legs down, so that they slid down his legs and finally lay flat on the mats. With a deep, fortifying breath, Harley stood, pulling away from her. Amiel wasn’t sure if she should be grateful for his self-control, or cry. It felt like he was tearing away a piece of her soul, as he put space between them. He caught her gaze, eyes mirroring her own torture.
“Don’t go lookin’ at me like that, kid. I’m hangin’ by a primal thread here.”
She grinned mischievously, pushing upward on the mats. Harley’s gaze turned wary. “What’s goin’ on in that head of yours, kid?”
She climbed to her feet, smug expression in her eyes. “Oh nothing. I just won. That’s all.”
His bad boy grin came back into play, immediately making her insides all squishy and crazy. “I think you’ve got your definitions of win and lose mixed up there, short stuff.”
“Did you just call me short?”
“Maybe. Whatcha gonna do about it?”
Amiel narrowed her eyes playfully, about to spring into action.
“Harley, we need to… whoa!” Cajun’s voice suddenly rang out in the gym, startling them both. They had been so wrapped up in their little game of cat and mouse, they hadn’t even heard Cajun enter the building. Now he stood at the top of the stairs, eyes bulging. “That is the potent smell of love in the air, if I ever did smell it.”
Harley sighed, rubbing his eyes. “What are ya doin’ here, Caj?”
“Foundation’s sending us out on a call, and you aren’t answering your phone.” His eyes shifted toward Amiel and he winked. “Though I can see why, now.”
Harley stiffened at her side, but didn’t say anything. She didn’t have to meet his eyes to be able to feel his emotions battling, between his Hybrid protections of her and knowing his brother was teasing him. She smiled, making an effort to put those conflicts at ease.
“I’m just showing him what it means to win. He’s confused about the concept.”
Harley’s muscles loosened somewhat, and he sent her a wry grin. “Uh huh. Whatever, kid.” He turned back to Cajun. “Where are we meetin’?”
“Over on Lebuck.”
“I’ll be there. Let me get her home safe first.”
Cajun nodded, sent her another wink and headed down th
e stairs.
“Open a window before you suffocate on the love!” he shouted up the stairwell, his laugh easily heard even after he shut the door. Harley released a long-suffering sigh.
“All right. I gotta go. But I got somethin’ to show ya, first.” He grinned, pulling her along behind him, back down the stairs. “Close your eyes, it’s a surprise.”
“You’re not going to dump a vat of tomato sauce on my head, are you?” she asked, closing her eyes and playing along.
“Good idea. I’ll save that for next time,” Harley said, the sound of a door opening meeting her ears. He came up behind her, hands closing over her eyes, and ushered her forward. After a few feet of blind, awkward, shuffling steps, his lips pressed to her ear.
“Open your eyes.”
She blinked her eyes open, and gasped. There, in the large storage room under the second-story gym floor, stood the sexiest motorcycle she’d ever seen. Her hands flew to her mouth, covering it, though it made no sound. She walked toward the bike in a daze, walked slow circles around it, too stunned to speak. The body looked thick, durable and sexy as all get-out. It was black, with sparkly purple accent pieces painted strategically all over the bike, the colors reminiscent of her first bike she’d been heartbroken over losing.
“It’s a V-Rod Night Rod Special,” Harley explained, filling in the silence. “The gas tank is under the seat instead of in front of the rider, and the electrical stuff is where the gas tank normally is. It’s got halo angel-eye headlights in purple to match. Also got purple LED’s that make the whole frame and wheels glow. Looks pretty amazin’ at night.”
She couldn’t pull her eyes away as she stared at everything he pointed out, all the details and gadgets he’d put in. Her hands still covered her mouth, voice still mute. He came up behind her, hands resting on her shoulders.
