On cue, my cell phone rang. I pulled it out and glanced at the caller ID, sighed, and answered it.
"Hi, Mom," I said.
She was pissed. "When were you going to tell me you were back from your little adventure? Why did I have to find out about your relationship with him from TV? Is he really a billionaire? Tell me you didn't already get married, Leona—"
"Mom!" I cut in. "You sound just like the reporters. One question at a time."
"Well? When can I meet him? And does he have any single brothers?"
"Mom! Seriously with the questions."
"Well at least tell me why you haven't at least called me. Where are you?"
"I'm in New York with Shane and his family. And I'm sorry I didn't call you. I know I should have, but things have been really crazy lately. I honestly haven't talked to anyone."
"Except the press," Mom said, with a bit of petulance.
"I didn't talk to them. I just appeared with Shane. There's a difference."
There was a strange, awkward silence, then Mom said, "John called your father and I."
"Shit. What did he want?" Virginia's eyes narrowed at my language, but she didn't interrupt.
"He wanted to know where you were. He was heartbroken, Leo. You should talk to him, at least. He was worried. He said that boy you took off with was a bit of a rough character."
I sighed. "Mom, my life is none of his business. I'm not going to talk to him. He can think what he wants. I don't care anymore. And Shane is a bit of rough character, but he's also a billionaire, and one of the most successful and famous businessmen in the country. So John can suck it."
Everyone in the limo was stifling laughter. I did my best to ignore them.
"Leo! Don't be so vulgar. And I think John deserves a bit more explanation and closure than he said you gave him. He said you jumped out of the car in the rain, in the middle of a conversation, and haven't spoken to him since. That's not exactly fair, dear."
"I'll be vulgar if I want to be vulgar, Mom. And no, I don't owe John any kind of explanation. He's an asshat. Jumping out of the car in the middle of an argument into the pouring rain should have been a pretty damn good indicator that I don't want to talk to him. Ignoring his calls and texts should have been another." Mom tried to cut in and say something, but I spoke over her. "I'm not having this conversation with you right now, Mom. I'm just not. Yes, you'll meet Shane at some point. No, we're not married, and no, you can't play matchmaker. Laura and Lenora can find their own men. I'll call you later, okay? Bye, Mom. I'm hanging up now. I love you. Bye."
She tried to cut in several more times as I hung up, but I knew my mom, and I knew if I let her get a head of steam up, she'd never stop with the questions. She should have been a reporter.
I stared at the phone rather than face the inquisitive stares of Shane, Henry, and Virginia.
"So, John would be...?" Virginia prompted.
"My ex-fiancé," I said.
At the same time, Shane said, "An asshat."
Virginia lifted an eyebrow. "This is the fellow whose car you jumped out of? Remind me, why is he 'an ass...hat'?' She spoke the phrase with a wry contempt for such low vulgarity.
I looked at Shane and back to his mother. "It's a long story."
"I know this may be none of my business, but it sounds like you have some loose ends to take care of." Virginia looked at me with firm but understanding eyes, so much like Shane's. "My advice, which I realize you haven't asked for, is to go home for a few days. Introduce Shane to your parents, see your friends, and yes, have one last conversation with your ex."
I nodded. I knew she was right, but it was the last thing I wanted to do.
I was afraid that if I went home, this crazy dream I was having would end, and I would be stuck back in my old life.
We got back to the house and everyone scattered to different places, leaving me and Shane alone in the kitchen.
"Wanna go for a ride?" Shane asked, shucking his suit coat and tie.
"A ride?"
"Yeah, on one of my motorcycles. I'm all keyed up and need to blow off some steam. A nice long cruise on one of my choppers always calms me down."
"Oh, yeah. Sure. That actually sounds really nice. Let me go change."
I'd been wearing a calf-length brown skirt and a matching suit coat, which was perfect for a press conference, but so not much for a motorcycle ride. I quickly changed into a pair of jeans, a halter top, and a jacket. Shane was already waiting out in the driveway, back in a pair of ripped jeans, a white T-shirt and a leather jacket. He plopped a helmet on my head and adjusted the straps, and I swung onto the classic motorcycle behind Shane, wrapping my arms around his waist.
I hadn't been on motorcycle with Shane since we left Detroit, I realized, as we glided down a narrow, winding, two-lane road. The engine roared and buzzed between my legs, and Shane's solid bulk in front of me anchored me into the moment, pushing away worries and fears, until all that remained was the lush, upstate New York scenery. There was no talking, not with the roar of the engine, and for once I felt no need to talk, just a deep peace rooted firmly in Shane, in simply being with him.
I lost track of time, lost track of the miles, and eventually Shane pulled off the main road onto a hard-packed dirt road cutting away into a rolling field bordered on one side by a wall of trees. This was a rougher ride than the highway had been, and I clung tighter to Shane. The dirt road took us even farther from civilization than we already were, away from the blacktop, away from people. Now we were truly in the middle of nowhere, and still Shane drove, mile after mile.
A massive, spreading oak tree rose into view, topping a hill in the distance, dominating the horizon. Shane pulled the bike off the dirt road into the grass beneath the tree, and then swung around to face me so our legs were nestled together, his outside mine, his boots resting on the footrests next to my feet.
From top of the hill we had an open view of the land surrounding us for miles, trees off to our left, an endless bank of wind-blown green. Rolling hills spread away in every other direction, covered in rippling grass lit by the afternoon sun.
"Leo, I'm gonna ask you one last time." Shane took both my hands in his. "You want this? With me, with my family?"
"I'd be lying if I said I didn't worry about whether I really fit into your family's lifestyle, all the fancy airplanes and limos and reproductions of eighteenth-century British noblemen's houses. But I like your family. Your mom gave it to me straight, told me what she expected of me, and that helped, as much as it made me even more nervous."
"Oh god. Mom got to you?"
"Well, yeah. She told me that your family had...how did she put it? A certain moral standard to uphold, or something like that. I can't be caught up in scandal, and my decisions affect you and the whole company. Stuff like that. Logical enough."
Shane groaned. "Figures she'd hit you with that shit." He eyed me carefully, assessing my reaction. "She could have waited a bit before laying that on you."
I shook my head. "No, I needed to hear it. It made all this more real, I guess. I mean, you're real, but...the CEO thing, being with you as you take over for your dad...all that. I can't just do whatever I want. I mean, I'd never be 'caught in a scandal' anyway, whatever that means."
"It means cheat on me and have it publicized by the papers."
"Oh. Well even more duh." I scooted forward and Shane slid down so that he was reclining on the bike and I was lying on top of him. It felt precarious, but he didn't seem to mind, and I felt secure, held in his arms.
"It's not a duh, though," Shane said. "I mean, I trust you, but...gossip rags are one thing. Real, presentable facts are another."
"You'll have to trust me, then, won't you?" I said, and kissed his jaw. "I'm not that kind of girl. If I didn't want to be with you, and only you, I wouldn't have come."
"I know, I just meant it's not a given for Mom." Shane ran his hands down my back and cupped my ass, then dug his palms under the tight waistband of my jeans
to hold bare flesh. "As long as you're sure. I don't want you to feel pressured. I know it's a lot. Shit, it's a lot for me. I'm not ready to take over for Dad. I've never really wanted to. I just want to build bikes and work Rescue Medic."
"Did you build this bike?"
"I restored it. It's a 1968 Triumph." He brushed my jacket off, slipped his hands up my back and underneath my halter top.
The rumble of the engine between my thighs had made me sensitive, tingling and throbbing. And now that his hands were running over my flesh, I felt myself getting wet, needing him.
I wondered if we could balance like this on the bike while we...
Shane had the same idea. He tugged my shirt over my head, reached down to unzip my pants and helped me push them off. We were alone, with no people around for dozens of miles, but it was still exhilarating to be naked outside in broad daylight. The early fall air was cool against my bare skin, but it just made Shane's heat all the more delicious.
I unzipped Shane, slid his pants down past his hips and gathered his cock in my hands, sliding my palms along his length, gasping as he slipped a finger inside me.
"You're so wet already," Shane said, kissing my throat, and then my lips.
"The bike helps," I said. "All the vibrating..."
There were no words then, just his hands pulling me up, his feet braced against the footrests of the bike, his body pillowing mine, his arms holding me in place. I rested on his chest, my arms behind his head to provide a pillow for him. I lifted up my hips, reached between us and guided him into me, pressing my lips against his chest as he filled me, stretched me.
I sank down until our hips were flush, and then stayed there for a moment, enjoying the feeling of his body inside mine, around mine. He held me tight, locked eyes with me, and then I lifted up and sank down, setting a slow, rolling rhythm. He held me, let me move on him, balancing us on the narrow seat of the motorcycle. Our lips met, clashed, pulsed and explored, and I gripped his hair in my fingers as I felt the fire spread from a dull ache between my thighs into wildfire throughout me, his breath and mine merging, his strength holding me up.
I moved faster, rising and sinking, holding his head in my hands and kissing him with desperate passion as I rose up into the throes of climax, pulling him with me, riding him with relentless abandon until he began to move beneath me in his own climax. His motion risked our balance, though, and I pressed my lips to his ear.
"Stay still. Let me do it," I whispered.
He just nodded, and then held me with one hand across my buttocks and the other across my shoulders. I continued to move on him through this interaction, never slowing the pace, and I felt his muscles tense beneath me as he struggled to remain still. I watched his jaw tense, felt his arms turn to iron bands around my body, his washboard abs turn to rock, his thighs to tree trunks, and then his eyes rolled back in his head and he began to rumble deep in his chest.
I kept the rhythm quick, but not so fast we'd topple off, which forced us to draw out the fall into orgasm. Shane came first, clutching me hard enough to squeeze the breath out of me, and I slowed the pace then, sinking down onto him, hard, lifting as far as I dared and then plunging down, and now I felt the tremors rock through me, starting as a quiver in my thighs.
The pounding rhythm of our joining hips drove me higher and higher, and now the edge was near, his climax pushing me over. His hot seed filled me and his body surrounded me and there was only the plunge of body into body, heat into heat, and I could barely support my own weight on his chest for the shuddering, rocketing thrill of orgasm climaxing through every cell of my body.
He held me tighter than ever, crushing me close, kissing me as I came.
We lay together on the bike for a few minutes longer, then we dressed and mounted the bike once more.
I had to cling even harder to him as we rode back to the house, my body still limp and trembling.
* * *
I clutched Shane's hand so hard my knuckles turned white.
We'd flown back to Detroit the next day in the Sorrenson's private jet, and we were now in a rented limo, Gerald driving, sitting in front of John's house. What had been my house. John was inside; I could see him at the window, watching.
"I'll go in with you, if you want," Shane said. "You know, present him with a united front."
I shook my head. "No. I'll be fine."
I leaned in and kissed him, deep, passionate. Desire flared, and for a moment I considered letting things flare, right there in the back of the limo, just to get out of having to see John. Shane pulled away, making the decision for me.
"Later," he said, his voice a promise of passion in my ear. "Get this done and come back to me."
I opened the door and slid out. As I did, I glanced back at Shane. A flash of something like worry, or jealousy glinted in his eyes, then was buried. I smiled at him, shut the door, and made my way to the front door. I realized as I rang the bell that he was worried not just for me, but that I'd somehow decide to go back to John. I wished I'd taken a moment to reassure him I wouldn't, but it was too late.
John opened the door and ushered me in. We stood in the foyer, awkward and tense. I could tell John wasn't sure if he should hug me or shake my hand. I didn't want to touch him, but I settled for a brief, awkward hug, done from a foot away, two pats on his back and then pulling away. He didn't want to let go.
I stepped into the living room, feeling a pang of something sharp in my chest. Nothing had changed. The couch we'd bought together, in the same spot. Our TV, our his and hers recliners, all the artwork I'd picked out at the Ann Arbor Art Fair, all the pictures of us together. He hadn't taken anything down, hadn't changed anything. As I moved hesitantly into the living room, I could see down the hallway to the master bedroom, and I could tell he hadn't changed anything in there either. Same comforter and duvet, same pictures in the same picture frames: me and John on a sailboat on a vacation to the Virgin Islands, us at his cousin's wedding, a grainy photo we'd taken from my phone at a bar barely a month before I'd jumped out of his car.
John looked at me, licked his thin, pale lips. "Can I get you anything, Leo? Coffee? Tea?"
I stifled a sigh. I'd never drank tea in all the time he'd known me. "No, thanks, I'm fine."
"So...thanks for coming," John said, sitting in his recliner, the larger, darker one. "I would have met you somewhere, but since this is the only time you could meet me, and I have plans in a few minutes..."
I sat on the edge of the couch, clutching my purse. "It's fine. Look, I guess I should apologize for running off the way I did. I should have...I don't know, handled it differently—"
John interrupted me. "Leo, no. I'm the one who's sorry. I was a jerk, all around. I never really treated you right, and I realize that now." He looked up at me, eyes wide and almost...hopeful. "I know things weren't...optimal, before, but if we could—"
"No, John. That's not going to happen. Not ever," I cut in, a bit harsh. "I'm only here because...honestly, because my mom said you'd called them. She seemed to think you need closure or something."
"Closure?" John said it with a laugh, disbelieving. "Closure? She thinks I need closure?"
"Yes, John. Closure. Let's say it a few more times, just to make it less true."
I knew I was being bitchy, and he didn't quite deserve it, but I couldn't make myself stop.
"I don't want closure, Leo. I want you back."
"Not gonna happen."
"It was a stupid fight. We could have fixed it." He seemed to be trying to push down a lot of anger and a lot of hurt. Oddly, if he hadn't pushed it down, if he had expressed it, he might have had a better chance of getting through to me. "You never even told me if you were pregnant or not."
"No, I'm not. And it wasn't the fight. That's not why I left. The fight was what made me realize how...I don't know how to put it." The words that came to mind were harsh and ugly; I tried to reign them in, and failed. "The fight made me realize how bored I was with us...with you. Sorry
if that's harsh, but it's the truth. It wasn't just boredom, though. I was suffocating. You never react, you never...god, you never do anything. You...god, this isn't going anywhere. I'm gonna end up being mean, and there's no point."
John seemed honestly stunned. "You were...bored? You flipped out and left me because you were bored? Seriously? We could have...I don't know, gone skydiving or something. Tried some bondage or...I don't know."
I laughed. "Oh god, John. See? You're completely missing the point. I don't know how to explain this without being vicious. Skydiving? Bondage? We made love on a schedule. With the lights off. And you want to tie me up? You wouldn't know what to do with me if you did have me tied up, John. You'd do what you always did: stick it in and finish, then go to sleep."
John physically flinched at that, and I knew it'd gone too far. "I'm sorry. That was uncalled for. True, but uncalled for." I stood up and went to the door. "This isn't getting us anywhere. I'm done. We're done. We were done the moment I jumped out of the car and you were more worried about your stupid leather seats than me. Shit, we were done way before that, I just hadn't realized it. Apparently you still don't realize it. Good bye John."
"Wait, Leo, please—"
"Why? It's done. Forever. Move on, find someone more suited to you. Rearrange, paint, get rid of the pictures of me. Get rid of my chair, our sheets, everything. Move on."
"But I...I can't, I don't know how." Oh god, he was turning pathetic. It hurt, it made me sick, and most of all, sad.
"Well, I don't know what else to say. I'm sorry." I opened the door and walked out, trying hard to ignore the stunned silence, and his game attempts to hide the hurt.
"Leo, please." Quiet, desperate, but still from the center of the room.
I decided to be brutally honest. "You know the biggest reason I walked out then, and why I'm walking out now? It's because you're just standing there, waiting. Hoping. Begging, but not doing anything to try and change it." I turned and looked back at him. "You're nice, John. You're dependable. You're predictable. For some girls, that might be enough, that might be a good thing. It's not enough for me anymore."
Biker Billionaire Boxed Set Page 13
