Rebellious

by Gillian Archer

  “What’s silly?” I asked as I grabbed a bar stool and sat next to Tucker.

  Reb was busy flipping pancakes at the stove but turned once he finished. His brow wrinkled and he tilted his head at Tucker. “Well, are you gonna ask her?”

  Tucker buried his hands in his lap and hunched his shoulders, instantly shy. If it were possible, my heart softened even more toward the kid. At that moment I would’ve given him anything.

  “Use your words, bud. Emily’s not telepathic.”

  I shook my head at Reb for making Tuck do something that he clearly wasn’t comfortable doing. Reb just stared placidly back at me.

  “What does ‘telepathic’ mean?” Tucker whispered.

  I shot Reb one more inquiring look, silently urging him to fill me in—not that he seemed to care—then turned to smile down at Tucker. “It means being able to hear people’s thoughts. It’s not a real thing, though.”

  “Oh.” Tucker turned back to his plate and shoved a pancake into his mouth. His cheeks plumped out like a chipmunk.

  Laughing at the sight, I turned back to Reb. He just shrugged and plopped a mug of coffee and a short stack on a plate in front of me.

  I looked at the mound of pancakes in disbelief. “There’s no way I can eat that many. I’m gonna need a gym membership by the end of breakfast.”

  “You could stand to gain a few pounds. Eat up.”

  That was such a guy response. Clearly someone with his muscle mass wouldn’t understand the delicate balance of a petite body like mine. Five extra pounds looked like twenty on my frame. But keeping in mind the age of our audience and the fact that his dad was a scary biker, I bit back my annoyed retort and tucked into my breakfast.

  A minute later, Reb set down an even bigger plate of pancakes on the countertop across from us and dug in with abandon. I tried not to think about what we’d done on the countertop the night before. But one bite in, Reb let out this happy little hum that sounded so much like his groan the night before, it had my thighs clenching.

  Reb’s eyes met mine over the island and gave me a smug little grin. Like he knew what I was thinking about. Because he was thinking about it, too.

  In retaliation I lifted my fork and took a delicate little lick of the dripping syrup.

  Reb’s eyes flared with intense heat.

  I put my fork in my mouth and sucked long and slow at the syrup still clinging at the tines, staring into Reb’s eyes the entire time. It was the most erotic and innocent moment of my entire life. I wanted him. I wanted him inside me like I’d never wanted any man before.

  But I couldn’t. I didn’t have time in my life for a man right now. With two jobs and my volunteering at the community literary program, I didn’t have any time to spare. Something told me that this man would demand every second I had. Then there was the whole scary, angry biker thing. And he was still technically married. Plus he had a kid who was in the room with us right now.

  It was the last thought that put the brakes on my innocent seduction routine. I broke eye contact with Reb and dug into my breakfast again. I consoled myself with carbs instead of giving in to the lust that was melting my self-control.

  All too soon my stack of pancakes disappeared and Tucker was dancing in his seat beside me.

  “Can I be excused, Dad?”

  “Sure, buddy. Why don’t you go play in the living room? Brittany’s gonna be here in a few to watch you while I run into town to take care of a few things.”

  “ ’Kay.”

  If I’d blinked, I would’ve missed Tucker’s fast exit from the kitchen.

  Leaving me alone with Reb.

  I set my fork on my plate with a clatter. “You’re a good chef.”

  “Any dipshit can cook pancakes.” Reb stared at me with hooded eyes as he took his last bite of pancake.

  “Well, the dipshit has to show up, for starters.” Admittedly I didn’t set the bar very high. Lord knew, my dad had never shown up.

  Reb swallowed his bite and gave a shrug of acknowledgment.

  “So where’s my phone? You promised last night that I’d have it this morning. And it’s morning, so…”

  Reb nodded toward the counter next to the fridge. Somehow I’d missed my purse and phone sitting out in the open. I dove on the phone like it was a lifeline. Thumbing through the recent calls, I found five unanswered calls from Jessica and three from Nicole. Damn. The shitstorm was coming if Jessica had called in Nicole for reinforcement. Not really surprising—the three of us had been friends since forever. But Nicole had taken an instant dislike to Jessica’s biker boyfriend and something told me she wouldn’t be too approving of Reb, either.

  Not that we were dating or anything.

  “So are you ready to give me her number?”

  I’d been busy reading the twenty texts Jess had sent me last night. Wait, he wanted Jessica’s number? I blinked up at him in confusion. “Huh?”

  “Rhonda’s neighbor? What’s her name?” Reb pulled his phone from the back pocket of his low-slung jeans.

  My eyes lingered on the flex of his biceps. Lord, the man was built. Built and sexy and so damn fuckable. Clearly I had a problem. I really needed to get laid. I had a hard time remembering the last guy I’d been with. But then again, my obsession might’ve had something to do with Reb’s nearness. He had a way of making everything—or everything but my attraction to him—hazy.

  “Em?” The twinkle in his eyes told me that he’d caught me checking him out and didn’t mind one minute. I was pretty sure he knew exactly what thoughts were floating around in my head. Maybe telepathy was possible, after all.

  Or maybe I was just pathetically obvious in my interest.

  “The number. Yeah. Just a sec.” I thumbed through my contacts, then rattled out my neighbor’s info.

  “Great.” Reb’s thumbs flew across his phone’s screen as he put the info in. He tossed his phone onto the counter, then leaned over and snatched my phone out of my hands.

  “Hey!”

  He just gave me his annoyingly smug—and way too sexy—grin as he fiddled with my phone. A few seconds later his phone vibrated across the countertop. Sliding my phone across the counter to me, he snatched his own up and fiddled with its settings.

  I looked down at my cell and found a new contact had been added. Reb. With a cell number and a work number.

  “That’s my current burner number, but it’ll probably change in the next week or so. I’ll let you know when it does.”

  “Why do you go through phones so fast? Tucker couldn’t remember anyone’s number last night.”

  “It’s club business.” Reb’s eyes went steely and left no room for discussion. “But Tucker knows that if he needs me, he should call the shop. That number never changes, and the calls get forwarded.”

  “Obviously not. He had me take him to the shop, but he never mentioned calling there.”

  “I’ll have another talk with him.” Reb walked around the island. I swiveled on my bar stool, following him. He stepped into the V of my knees, and I ducked my head to avoid his probing eyes.

  Not that he let me. With a finger under my chin, Reb tipped my head back up, forcing me to meet his searching gaze.

  “I’m not gonna let you hide from me. From what’s between us. This—me and you—is gonna happen. And the sooner you come to terms with that, the easier it’ll be.”

  I opened my mouth to refute him, but he swooped down and covered my open mouth with his. And he took complete advantage of it. His tongue swept in and took possession of me. Fucking my mouth with his tongue. My body trembled and it was a good thing I was sitting down. The hand I put out to stop him fisted in his T-shirt, skimming the hard torso hidden beneath. I leaned forward. Into him. Into his kiss.

  A second later he was all I could think about. And how soon I could be under him.

  A minute later and I couldn’t think at all.

  The insistent peal of the doorbell, followed by Tucker’s shouted “I’ll get it,” had us breaking
apart all too soon.

  “To be continued,” Reb rumbled against my temple.

  I couldn’t fashion a coherent reply to save my life. I was too busy trying to get my breath back and calm my crazy pulse.

  Not that he gave me time, as I was being introduced to Brittany, a woman who looked to be maybe in her late thirties and whose leather vest proclaimed her to be “Property of Stitch.” I didn’t even blink at the vest. Jessica had a similar one and wore it with pride. Somehow in the last year I’d become jaded to some parts of biker life. At least as far as it didn’t apply to me. This thing with Reb—whatever it was—would take me a lot longer to come to terms with. If at all. Despite what he’d told me earlier, I did have a say in whatever happened between us. Maybe I didn’t want to have a relationship or whatever with a biker who had anger problems, a crazy almost-ex-wife, and a cute-as-hell kid. I’d make the decision with my brain and not the throbbing erogenous zone his pheromone cloud turned me into.

  After a few words exchanged with Brittany, Reb was tugging on my hand as he led me out the front door and to his bike. I watched as he swung a leg over the beast, then turned to me with a smug grin that I just wanted to lick off his face. Instead I rolled my eyes and accepted his offered helmet. A few seconds later I myself swung a leg over, and when my skirt was tucked under me as securely as I could get it, he opened up the throttle and we were off.

  I tightened my arms around his waist and let the euphoria sail through me. Apparently Reb always rode hell-for-leather, because just like last night he flew through stop signs and darted around cars with barely any room to spare. Unable to watch, I squeezed my eyes closed and just held on.

  And just like last night, I couldn’t help it if my hands roamed of their own volition. I skimmed around his shirt and quickly found the rock-hard abs beneath. Lord, this man was built! The combination of the bike vibrating between my thighs and the feeling of his oh so hard body beneath my fingers had me wet and aching. I wanted him. And at that exact moment, I didn’t really care how I’d get him. Just preferably soon.

  I moaned in disappointment when the bike slowed. Opening my eyes, I found the familiar layout of my apartment complex in front of us. And all too soon, Reb pulled up next to my heap of a car and put his kickstand down.

  I gave his rock-hard abs one last squeeze—because I was much braver behind him on the back of his bike than I was ever capable of being in front of him—then swung off his bike and unstrapped my helmet.

  But before I could hand it back to him, Reb was on top of me. He fisted a hand in my hair and pressed me up against my car as he took my lips in a hungry kiss. I could only hold on and let him. Let him grind against my stomach with his jean-covered erection. Let him tease and pluck my aching nipple. Let him tug my hair until my core throbbed in the same cadence. I was halfway to letting him fuck me against my car when he pulled away with a groan.

  “Goddammit, sunshine. Why are you always teasing me in places where I can’t fucking follow through? I swear one of these days I’m gonna make you regret it.”

  I could only purr contentedly as I snugged against his chest. That didn’t really sound like much of a threat to me. But with the clarity of shattering glass, the sounds of the outside world crept in. Cars zoomed nearby. Lawnmowers hummed. And a few feet behind us, kids shouted.

  It was the latter that had me springing out of Reb’s arms and patting my hair and clothes. Reb, the bastard, just laughed.

  “Come on. I’ll walk you up and you can point out Rhonda’s and what’s-her-name’s places.”

  With my face no doubt sporting a fire-engine-red blush, I let Reb tug me toward the apartment building and away from the curious eyes of Mrs. Turner and her two kids—or so I assumed. I was doing everything possible not to make eye contact with my neighbor. Instead, I focused on the bright emblem of Reb’s leather vest. It helped ground me and reminded me just who I’d been dry-humping in the parking lot. A biker. Not someone you’d ever take home to Mama. Not that that was a problem for me, since I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been home, let alone taken a guy there for my parents’ approval.

  “Which way, sunshine?”

  I blinked up at Reb, torn from my morose thoughts of my lackluster parents. “Upstairs. I’m apartment 203.”

  Reb gave a tight nod, then tugged my hand again as he led the way up the side stairs. I couldn’t help but enjoy the view as I watched his flexing ass in front of me all the way up to the second floor. It was a work of art. One I wouldn’t mind exploring later.

  “So is Rhonda and what’s-her-name on this floor, too?”

  I dragged my eyes from his flexing ass and puffed my way up the remaining steps. “Rhonda is. She’s in 205, down the hall. Morgan is below us, in 105. But like I said, they’re on vacation this week, I think.”

  Reb pushed through the fire door, then stopped suddenly in front of me. I crashed into his back with a grunt.

  “What the fuck is this?” he grumbled, swooping down to grab something on the ground.

  I peered behind his back and my blood froze at what he was holding in his hands. A bouquet of dead flowers with a few worms slithering through the dead buds.

  He was back.

  My breath left me in great, heaving gasps. Spots danced in front of my eyes. From somewhere far away, I heard Reb’s “Em? Emily?”

  But I couldn’t answer him. It took all my energy just to concentrate on my wheezing. I couldn’t breathe. Oh God, he was back.

  I couldn’t breathe.

  Oh God, not again.

  I couldn’t breathe.

  Chapter 6

  Reb

  Reb had heard more than his share of fake hysterics in his life. If it was a sport, his ex would’ve medaled in it. The wheezing, panicked sounds coming from Emily weren’t an act. They were real enough to make him take action. He caught her before she passed out.

  Emily didn’t even give a token protest. She’d covered her gorgeous face with her hands and those panting gasps were the only sounds she made.

  The floor was littered with the dead flowers Reb had dropped to grab her. He crushed them beneath his boot heel as he took the few steps to her door. Jostling her in his arms, Reb freed a hand to dig in his front jeans pocket for the keys one of the prospects had run to his place after checking out Emily’s car.

  Her shitty car fell way down on the list of things he was gonna bitch her out about later. What the fuck was going on? Instead of wasting time now interrogating her, he wanted to get her back to her normal, feisty self. Not this shell of a woman he held in his arms.

  Sliding the key into the lock, he opened the door to her apartment. What he found didn’t make him feel any better.

  The place was tidy. She wasn’t a slob like his ex. Her place was just…run-down. She was obviously not spending any more of her money on furnishings than on her car. He crossed the worn carpet and set her down on the threadbare couch against the far wall in the living room. The smashed cushions didn’t even give with her weight.

  Like her car did last night, the sight filled him with anger. And the fucking flowers outside didn’t help, either. What the hell was going on?

  Leaving her on the couch, he walked back to the door and picked up the dead flowers in the hallway. The decaying mess contrasted with the cheery colors of her welcome mat. His rage building with every gathered dead bud, he paused when he found a florist card at the bottom of the rank pile. Finally, some answers. He flipped the card over but the writing didn’t leave a clue to the sender’s identity. The blood-red ink scratched out five letters in a nasty message: WHORE.

  The note made him even more fucking pissed off.

  “Fucking dickbag!” Reb crossed the hall and dumped the dead flowers and worms over the handrail into the parking lot. He couldn’t give a fuck about who found them later. After folding the vicious card in half, he stuffed it in his back pocket. It might not tell him the identity of the twisted fuck who’d sent the warped bouquet, but once he found out who
the asshole was, it might come in handy.

  Entering the apartment again, he crossed the room to the still-wheezing Emily. And he didn’t have a fucking clue what he should do. Get her a glass of water? A paper bag? Did that old wives’ tale even work? His ex, Rhonda, was big with the drama, but she’d never had an actual panic attack. Reb knelt on the ground next to the couch and brushed Emily’s hair off her face. “Hey, sunshine. You with me?”

  “I-I-I-I’m…” She took a second, another deep breath, then sighed. “Yeah. I’m here. I’m sorry. I feel like an idiot.”

  “Well, at least you’re not giving me the ‘Where am I?’ bullshit.”

  Emily laughed slightly, but it was the saddest fucking sound he’d ever heard. “No, really. I’m fine. See?” She sat up and gave him a brave but fake smile. “You should get on with your Thursday. Move on. Nothing to see here.”

  “Oh, there’s plenty to see, sunshine. But first you’re gonna tell me all.”

  “It’s fine. Probably low blood sugar. I just need to eat something and I’ll be fine.”

  “Bullshit. I was married, I know what ‘fine’ means. And I fed you pancakes less than an hour ago. Next excuse?”

  She closed her eyes briefly, then took a deep breath and looked directly into his eyes. “It’s my drama. My problem. I’ll figure it out. I don’t need a man to save me.”

  “You can think whatever you like, sunshine. But you sure as hell needed a man to save you from a concussion when you almost passed out due to lack of oxygen. You needed a man to carry you inside. And I have a feeling you need a man like me to take care of whatever sick fuck sent you that screwed-up bouquet.”

  Emily sighed and sank back into the couch, then winced and sat up, rubbing her lower back. “There’s nothing to take care of. Somehow he knows how to send me just enough to scare me, but not enough to satisfy the cops and send him to jail. He never signs the cards. What did it say this time?”

  “Who never signs the cards?” Reb asked, deflecting her question.

  “Michael. My ex.”

  “So we both have crazy exes, huh? Ought to make things pretty lively.”