The only sounds I could hear in that moment were his shaky breaths and racing heart.
I closed my eyes and swallowed down the worry that this wasn’t going to end well.
“THIS IS REALLY nice,” I said after the silence had stretched a little beyond comfortable. “A much better birthday than the one I had planned.”
With a slight tilt of my head, I met his gaze and time did the weird stopping completely thing again as our gazes locked and he licked his lips. My tongue slicked across my own lips in response.
One of his hands came to rest on my cheek, and he rolled so that his body was flush alongside mine, and then an instant later I was under him. I barely had time to draw in a breath before his lips were on mine. Demanding but patient, all at once. Needful but restrained.
Within a fraction of a second, all doubt and confusion washed out of me, and I lost myself to the moment. It was the sort of kiss I’d only ever dreamed of. It rolled through my body in waves, rushing from my lips right down to my toes. As it moved through my body, it dragged a blissful tingling with it so that it wasn’t just my lips kissing his; it was my entire being.
I’d never kissed anyone that way before. Only one other kiss came close, and even that was in a different league. When his tongue trailed a little path across my lips, seeking entrance, I gasped. The tiny parting of my lips was all he needed. My whole body lit from within as his hands caressed my face and his tongue explored my mouth. I mewed and moaned as his skilful lips twisted mine into place.
Because of our position, I could feel the way the kiss was affecting him. His cock was rock hard against my hip, pressing against me with the same force as his belt buckle.
Taking courage from the way the kiss burned through my fear and doubt—he wasn’t kissing “Phoebe Reede,” he was kissing me—I moved my hand to the hem of his shirt, intending to wrap myself in his embrace and lose myself entirely in his kiss.
When my fingertips brushed against the skin between his shirt and his pants, he gasped and pulled away.
“Oh, darlin’, what’re ya doin’ to me?” He sat and dragged his hands through his hair as he said the words.
“I don’t know,” I admitted.
When I spoke, he glanced back at me and his thumb found his bottom lip where it traced a slow line back and forth—as if he were trying to imprint the memory of the kiss.
“Everything tonight is so far outside of anything I’ve ever done before,” I continued. “I don’t usually leave pubs with strangers.” I didn’t feel the need to add that I’d never really been into a pub before to be able to leave with someone. After all, the sentiment remained the same whether we were talking about a seedy dive or the guys who hit on me at the track.
“Well, I am mighty relieved to hear that, because it can be a dangerous pastime.” His statement seemed guarded, but I wasn’t sure if that was because he was familiar with the process.
I needed to know. “Is it one you partake in often?”
“No, ma’am. I, uh, I’m actually savin’ myself for marriage,” he said. “Maybe it’s odd that I’m twenty-four and still ain’t done the deed. But the way I figure it, the right lady will be worth the waitin’.”
His words should have calmed me because they were an indicator that he wouldn’t expect anything more that night, but they didn’t. Instead, I just kept hearing him say his age over and over. Six years older than me. Fuck, Dad would have kittens if he found out. True, Flynn was almost ten years older than Luke, and Mum and Dad accepted that, but I’d learned long ago that things worked differently for me than for their friends and other family.
“I’ve, uh, got to go.” I leapt to my feet and was back at the bike in an instant.
“Wait!” he shouted as I turned the key. “Hey, wait up.” He charged up the hill toward me, an expression of panic on his face so endearing that I had to wait for him.
“If that scares ya off, well, I can understand that. It ain’t the first time it’s happened. But ya brought me here, remember?”
“It wasn’t like I thought we were going to have sex!” I was horror-struck that he might think that was the only reason I’d left the bar with him. The thought might have crossed my mind once or twice, but it wasn’t like I’d decided or that it was the only reason we’d come out to the quiet spot.
He chuckled and crossed his arms over his chest. “No, I mean I ain’t got another way home if ya don’t take me back to my friends. Cell reception out here ain’t exactly fantastic.”
“Oh. Shit. Of course. Hop on.”
“We are talkin’ about the bike now, ain’t we?”
“Ha ha. Funny. Get on or I’ll leave you here.”
He slung one leg over the back of the bike and breathed against my neck. “Yes, ma’am.”
As I rode, I had to squeeze my legs around the seat to focus my attention on the task at hand. By the time we got back to the pub, my body was shaking, and I didn’t want the ride to end. I even debated circling around and heading straight back up into the hills. With growing disappointment that it would all end soon, I pulled into the car park and stopped the bike.
Beau climbed off and pulled his helmet from his head, resting it on the hood of the car he’d pointed to when I was pulling in.
“So, darlin’.” His hands reached out to guide my helmet off my head. “Is this it? The end.”
“Yeah. I guess it is.”
“Ya got a number?”
“A number?”
“Ya know, ya digits. A cell phone number.”
“Oh! Um, only my one from Australia, but I’m not sure how to dial it from here.” It was a lie, but a convenient excuse.
“How ’bout Facebook?”
I was about to tell him yes, but that would mean giving him my real name. It would mean slipping back into the Phoebe Reede mantle and risking the one encounter I’d ever had where I didn’t have to worry about whether it was me or me that he was interested in.
What would come up if he searched for me from the States? The usual calendar shoots, modelling gigs, and my track records. Would my online presence intimidate him? Or worse, would his eyes turn to dollar signs faster than my name came up on Google? Would he believe all the apparent hook-ups I’d had? If the gossip articles were to be believed, I’d had my heart stolen by no less than fifteen people—everyone from Luke to my high school classmates. I’d even been linked romantically to Angel on more than one occasion.
I shook my head. “No, I don’t use it.”
“Ya must be the only person on the planet who doesn’t. Or maybe you’re just itchin’ to ditch me, but don’t know how to let me down easy.”
His statement, while untrue, was also too uncomfortably close to the truth for me to acknowledge it. I didn’t want to ditch him, but I’d rather have the night seared into my memory as the one perfect evening when I wasn’t shackled by any expectation than reveal who I really was.
It was a little too late when I finally responded. His face had fallen, and anything I could say just sounded like a platitude. “No, it’s not that. It’s just . . . God, how can I explain this? The whole purpose of my holiday here is to get in touch with myself. To be alone. I can’t do that if I have the weight of expectation of future contact hanging over me.”
“I ain’t ’specting nothin’, darlin’, ’cept to not let ya disappear so soon.”
“Still, I don’t think it would be a good idea.”
“Where are ya stayin’ tonight?”
I stared at him, wondering why he could possibly want to know that.
“I ain’t gonna stalk ya there to take advantage if that’s what you’re worried about. I told ya, remember, marriage.” He winked at me.
Yeah, I remembered. I also remembered he was twenty-four. Still, I couldn’t stop my tongue from wagging long enough to give him the name of the motel and room number. God, I was an idiot. Although, there were worse things that could happen on my holiday than having a hot cowboy refuse to give me up so easily.
Or maybe he was willing to let me go that easily.
Why did I feel like crying when he said it like that? It sounded so final. I grabbed my helmet off him. “I guess it is.”
He took my helmet back, but only long enough to rest it on the seat of my bike. My eyes followed the path of his hands as they lifted away from the safety gear to my face to caress my cheeks. The tips of his fingers trailed back into my hair, guiding my gaze upward to meet his.
For at least half a minute, he stared into my eyes while holding me steady. Then with a pace that was both agonisingly slow and too fast all at once, he dipped down to press his lips to mine. Once more, the kiss travelled through my body and coaxed the tiniest mews and moans from my throat.
Remembering the motions from our last kiss, my lips moved with his to draw out matching sounds from him. One of his hands slipped further into my hair, and the other trailed down my back to press me tighter against him. His cock was back in action, pressing into my lower stomach. He rolled his hips forward as he pressed against my back once more, pushing me closer to him.
My breaths grew shallow, and I needed to pull away to get some more oxygen, but I somehow knew that the moment our lips parted it would be the end of the night. Deciding to forget trivial things like breathing, I surrendered myself to his hold, wrapping my arms around his back so that I could cup his arse.
Sliding my hand over the curve of his jeans, I felt his muscles clench and release under my soft touch. With a whimper and a moan, he pulled away.
“Worth the wait. Worth the wait.” He muttered the words under his breath.
“What’s that?” I asked.
He flashed me one of his time-stopping smiles. “Uh, nothin’.”
Feeling emboldened by his reaction to my touch, I grabbed the collar of his flannel shirt and pulled him closer. “Tell me.” I pressed my lips to his in a soft kiss and looked up at him through my lashes. “Please?”
A nervous chuckle escaped him, vibrating against me where my hands rested on his chest. “’Twas somethin’ I started doin’ when I was a teen facing temptation of the worst sort. When I was at my weakest and ready to give in to lust, repeatin’ those words would help reaffirm my choices.”
The words stirred so many conflicting emotions within me, and it took a while for me to sort through the inner turmoil to see what rose to the top and what settled back down. I was temptation of the worst kind? I took that as one of the biggest compliments anyone had ever paid me.
“I haven’t had to utter them for at least six years, but you, darlin’, you’re testing my will in ways I ain’t never felt before.”
His gaze trailed a lazy but obvious path over my body, causing heat to rise in my face. I was certain my cheeks were the same colour as the streak in my hair.
“Ya sure ya ain’t the devil in disguise?”
I raised an eyebrow at him as a smirk curled my lips. “I never claimed not to be.”
He laughed. “Well, that explains it then, my li’l devil.” He wrapped his arms around my shoulders.
My good mood fell, and I wrapped my arms around him, trying to cement the feel of his body into my memory banks. Despite the fact that I didn’t intend them to, tears welled in my eyes. “I don’t know if I’m ready to say goodbye.”
“Ya sure ya ain’t gonna give me a number?”
I buried my head against his chest. “I’m sorry.”
The moment had long passed into awkward and I should have let go and left, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it.
“Is this one of them thangs where I’m supposed to say ‘you hang up,’” he teased, drawing a giggle out of me.
“No, you,” I said, stepping backward to grab my helmet off the seat and then sliding it on. I flicked my leg over my bike and started the engine.
He grabbed my hand and kissed the back of it, before following me closer to the bike. “No, you.”
“You,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady as I tilted my head back to look up at him.
With a sad smile, he bent to give me one last, chaste kiss.
“Thank ya for tonight,” he said as he stepped back away from the bike.
It was only at the very last moment that he released my hand. I let it fall to my side as I spent a moment drinking in every detail of the night.
“You too.” I put the bike in gear and circled it around to leave the car park. As if the sound of my bike had signalled the start of some drunken race, his mates spilled out of the pub door as I drove off. Perhaps they’d been waiting inside, watching for the moment I left.
The last thing I saw of Beau, he was standing in the middle of his group of friends with both his hands pressed against his heart and his head tilted to the side as he stared after me.
Dammit, how was my trip supposed to get better than that one perfect night?
ON A HIGHWAY on the outskirts of California, just before the border crossing into Nevada, I pulled my bike to a stop in an emergency stopping bay. There was something I needed to do before I went any further.
I climbed off the bike and reached into the side bag where I’d stored the little gift waiting for me when I checked out of the motel that morning. It was a small box, no bigger than a brick, wrapped in blue paper printed with cartoon cowboys—the sort of paper you might use to wrap a three-year-old’s gift if they were obsessed with the country.
A gift tag attached said only, No expectations.
Suspecting who it was from—and oh so happy that I’d let my room number slip—I hadn’t wanted to open it in front of the person at the desk of the motel. Even though I didn’t think it would contain anything bad, I wasn’t sure what my reaction would be to whatever was inside. Based on the night of tossing and turning I’d had where I couldn’t push Beau out of my mind, it could have gone either way. Excited squealing or a tearful explosion.
After I’d finished checking out of my room, I’d put the present in my side bag, strapped my backpack to the passenger seat, and taken off.
If I hadn’t, I might not have left the state. I probably would have headed to the nearest airport in the hope of catching another glimpse of Beau, despite having plenty of glimpses of him in my dreams during the night.
When I unwrapped the gift, I found a mobile phone box inside. On top was a note, in the same handwriting as the gift tag.
My number’s programmed in. Just in case you decide not to ditch me after all.
I slid the cardboard inner out of the thin sleeve and looked at the mobile. A feeling of warmth spread through my chest as I considered the effort he’d gone to in order to get the phone for me.
At that moment, I wished Angel were with me so I could squeal with her and do our victory dance over getting the attention of the guy we were crushing on. Usually, she was the one who got to do the dance, but that didn’t mean I wasn’t dying for my turn.
Except he was twenty-four and would probably think our girly ritual was incredibly immature. I decided for a muted celebration instead, crushing the box against my chest and letting a tiny squeal rush from me.
When my hands stopped shaking long enough for me to control the small buttons on the side of the phone, I turned it on.
The first thing that greeted me once it had turned on properly was a text message. I know I said no expectations, but if you’re reading this, that’s one step closer to hearing from you again, Dawson. Now for step two . . .
I smiled at the message before my lips turned back down into a frown. Even though I didn’t really have a plan for the trip, getting involved with a guy, even casually by phone, definitely wasn’t part of it.
There was no way he’d know whether I’d read the message or not, so I could just ignore it. Turn the phone off, bury it in the bottom of my bag, and forget about Beau and our one perfect night—at least until I got home and could cling to the memory of the guy who’d fancied me for everything that was just me and no one else.
If I contacted him, I risked him finding out the real information and learning that I’d effectively lied to him. Or at least omitted the truth, which was just as bad.
Still, one text couldn’t hurt. Could it?
I typed it out before I could second-guess myself again. Step one achieved. Step two . . . we’ll have to see.
Once I’d sent the message, I turned the phone off. Beau obviously hadn’t charged it before leaving it with the motel reception, so it only had a small fraction of the battery left. I also wanted it turned off because it would reduce the temptation to check it for messages every few minutes.
I dug around in the side of my backpack for my other phone. My actual phone. Because I didn’t know how often I’d get the chance to charge it, I’d left it off as much as I could, but it was probably time to check in again. It’d been almost three days since I’d last spoken to Mum or Dad.
I switched it on and waited for it to come to life. When it had, I checked my messages and missed calls.
There were a pile of missed calls and a text, all from the one number—Dad’s.
What’s the point of international roaming if you don’t turn your phone on while you’re roaming?
For a moment, I debated calling home, but couldn’t remember the time conversion so just sent him a text letting him know I was okay instead. A few seconds later, my phone buzzed to life with his name on the screen.
“Hey, Dad,” I said. “How’s everything there?”
“Why have you had your phone off?”
“I didn’t want to waste the battery when I wasn’t near my hotel room.”
“But what if we needed to contact you in a hurry?”
The stress in his voice sent my mind straight down one path. Nikki. Had something gone wrong? Had there been a complication or infection after the surgery? “What’s happened? Is Nikki okay?”
“Nothing’s happened. Nikki’s fine.” Dad grew a little calmer. “I’ve just been worried about you.”
“There’s nothing to worry about, Dad,” I said, trying to push the thought of me leaving a bar with a twenty-four-year-old stranger from my mind when no one else knew where I was going or who I was with. What was I thinking? “I’ve just been busy. There’s so much to see here, and because Angel and I are road-tripping now, we’re keeping our phones off as much as we can to save power.”
Phase (Phoebe Reede: The Untold Story #1) Page 9
