Silver Biker: The Silver Foxes of Blue Ridge

by L. B. Dunbar

  And I couldn’t see a way to make it work between us.

  I roll off the bed and take a shower, which eventually turns cold. While I want nothing more than to crawl back into the four-poster bed before me, I had one last thing to do in this town before I returned to Savannah. I check out of the Lodge. I’d overstayed by another night, missing check-out yesterday morning, and I briefly wonder how I hadn’t been kicked out yet. I’m packing my things in the back of my Jeep when Cora startles me.

  “I’m sorry to see you go,” Corabelle says to me in the parking lot. It’s a strange comment, considering we weren’t friends before, and I’m trying to pretend I didn’t see her tucked under Justice’s arms at the clubhouse.

  “That’s nice of you, Cora, but I need to get back to Savannah.” However, I didn’t feel a burning desire to return there.

  Cora shakes her head, staring off in the distance. “Is that where you belong?” Her words are harsh and a bit contrived.

  “I think it’s best,” I state even though I don’t believe that. However, I don’t know why I’m offering this woman anything.

  “Best for you or for James?”

  “I’m not certain that’s any of your business,” I snap, placing my hands on my hips as I stand at the back of my Jeep.

  “It’s funny whose business it is in this town, Evelyn Sue. The Harringtons are this town in many ways, and picking your son’s name to represent our community center is a big deal.”

  “That wasn’t my decision,” I snark, as I hadn’t had any part in the decision to construct a community center or who to name it after for that matter.

  “No, it had been mine.” Cora narrows her bright eyes at me. She’s petite in stature, but her attitude makes up for it. Perhaps that’s the reason she’s always been a bit saucy and sassy.

  “Why would you do that, Cora?” I honestly want to know. What is the benefit of naming a damn building after my child?

  “For one, it’s a community center, and as I said, the Harringtons are a large part of this town.” She means the brewery, which employs many from the area as well as Charlie being the mayor and Billy owning a thriving business downtown. When I consider Roxanne owns a bookstore and Mati Harrington lives with Denton Chance on his grandmother’s property, which will be a vineyard soon enough, it’s as if the Harringtons are spreading like a vine.

  “But I’d also hoped it would bring you home.” Cora stares at me. “This is where you belong, Evie.” It’s one of the nicest and most ridiculous things she could say to me.

  “You hardly know me, Cora.” I mean, honestly, we’ve known of each other for years, but we aren’t in the same circle of friends. Then again, Matilda Rathstone hadn’t been friends with Cora, yet I’ve heard they are best friends now. Funny how life changes things, like maturity and perspective.

  “I might know more about you than you think.” She holds my gaze, but I have no idea what she means, and I’m about to ask when I hear a motorcycle off in the distance. For half a second, I hold my breath, thinking James has come back for me. Then I laugh at myself as the size of the man on the bike tells me it isn’t my soon-to-be ex-husband.

  “That’s my ride,” Cora says, tipping her head toward the approaching biker, and I smile at her.

  Yep, funny where life can lead people, and how people can change where they’re headed.

  + + +

  I find myself outside James’s front door. After knocking, I decide to just let myself in. I still have a house key, and surprisingly, it still works. Once I’m inside, I immediately head to the kitchen for some reason. Old habits die hard, I guess, but then I panic.

  What if he has someone here with him?

  Can I see him with another woman again?

  After witnessing the woman on his lap two weeks ago, I’d be in my first fight ever if I saw him with someone else. It almost makes me laugh to consider his reaction to Rusty Miller at the clubhouse. Then I remember his reaction to Dalton. Nothing. James did nothing, said nothing. He just stood behind me, waiting out my reaction before stepping away.

  I stand in the kitchen, leaning against our old island. It’s a small square room with an entrance to the hall and another to the dining room. James was gone quite a bit when we first bought this house, working in search and rescue, still seeking adventure while I was home with a newborn baby. I’d given up my job when I broke the engagement to Emerson Shaw. I wanted a clean slate, and little did I know, it would happen in Blue Ridge.

  In this home, I decorated and painted walls. I started my hobby, which turned to a business and eventually became my income. There were just as many memories of me and my personal journey in this house as there was the path I led as mother to Michael and wife to James. However, I was done with this house. It wasn’t mine anymore and hadn’t been for a long time.

  After removing the folded papers from my bag, I smooth them over the counter and search for a pen in my bag next. As I’m doing this, the front door opens, and James enters with a dog at his ankles.

  “Treat,” James says, and the dog rushes for the kitchen where I stand frozen by the island. James looks up and notices me, stopping himself inside the kitchen entrance.

  “Evie?”

  I drop my gaze when the dog comes to me, jumping up at my arm and throwing me off balance a bit. My bag falls off my shoulder and lands on the floor.

  “When did you get a dog?” I’d noticed the Husky the night I brought James home, but he hadn’t come up in our limited conversations since that night. James scratches at the back of his head, lowering his eyes to the dog, rummaging in my bag.

  “Silver. No.” James steps forward, and the dog backs up, hopping off for the dining room.

  “Silver?” I chuckle at the animal’s bounding energy.

  “Yeah, the Lone Ranger and his steed, Silver.” James laughs nervously. “But it’s really more because of his coloring.” The Siberian Husky has a coat of snow white and peppered silver, plus incredible blue eyes.

  “When did you get him?” The dog rushes back into the kitchen, and James leans forward, capturing the sides of his dog’s neck, aggressively scratching at him.

  “It’s kind of a strange story,” he begins, focusing on the animal while I wait to hear this tale. James looks up at me and quickly looks away, still rubbing at Silver’s neck. “I’d gone to the ridge. It was springtime but not quite Michael’s birthday.”

  My hands reach out for the island, spreading my arms to hold me upright. I stare at James’s hands, stroking the dog.

  “I was sitting there, just mindless . . . and then this dog appears out of nowhere. Like he just walked up that damn mountainside.”

  “James,” I whisper-hiss, shaking my head and closing my eyes.

  “It’s not much different than finding a dragonfly on your arm at Michael’s funeral.”

  My eyes pop open, and I lift my head to find James watching me.

  As we stood next to Michael’s grave, the place he’d permanently rest next to James’s grandfather, a dragonfly appeared out of nowhere and landed on my arm. I took it as a strange sign that my baby was there. He wanted me to be okay while he knew I was still a wreck. He wanted me to know he was okay even when I couldn’t accept his young life was over.

  I nod at James, accepting his tale of the dog while disbelieving it can be anything more than a lost animal in the woods. A beautiful creature who found my James when he needed companionship and compassion.

  James stands tall, releasing the dog, and I hold out a hand for the beloved pet. He licks my hand, sniffs at my wrist, and then yips once. I flinch although I’m not frightened. He just startled me.

  “So what are you doing here?” James asks as the dog saunters out of the kitchen, and I recall why I stopped here.

  “I’m leaving town.” My lips twist side to side, anxious with my explanation for some reason. “And I thought I’d come by and sign these for you.”

  I press the papers across the countertop. James’s eyes drift to t
hem, but he doesn’t need to see them up close to know what they are. This reminds me that I was looking for a pen when I dropped my purse, and the contents still lay just outside it thanks to the dog. I bend for my bag, but when I stand, James has rounded the island and bats the accessory out of my hand, forcing it back to the floor.

  “What the—?”

  “Is this what you want?” he asks me, crowding my space as his body stands flush with mine but not touching me.

  I stare up at his blue eyes, looking from one to the other for a second before answering him.

  “It doesn’t matter what I want,” I tell him, believing those words. What I want is to turn back time on so many things. Some can be undone. Some cannot.

  “Evie.” James takes a deep breath, and I feel the brush of air against my face. “Tell me what you want.”

  My eyes pinch, taking in the drop in his rugged tone. He’s nearly growling at me as he leans forward, so my breasts brush against his chest. Layers of clothing prevent contact. His quilted flannel. My jean jacket. I stare at him, uncertain what he’s asking of me.

  “I can’t,” I whisper as my gaze lowers for his lips. Those lips that kissed me good night every night and sucked at my breasts. Those lips that captured my fingers the other night and pulled at my clit once upon a time.

  “Peach,” he groans, the weight of his chest pressing against mine, firm, solid, knowing. “Tell me.”

  “Kiss me,” I say, swallowing my pride as my heart hammers and blood races through my veins. Kiss me one last time. James crashes his mouth against mine while his hand cups my jaw in that way he does where I fit in the curve of his thumb and forefinger. His mouth takes mine like I’m his last drink, his last breath. His tongue rushes forward, and I’m leaning back against the island at the sudden intrusion. My head tilts, deepening the kiss as my arms wrap around his neck, fingertips rubbing up the back of his head.

  “This all you want?” he asks against my mouth, taking it again before I can answer him. He tilts his head, coming at me from the opposite angle, dipping his tongue deep once again. He releases me and sips at my jaw, blazing a trail to my ear. “Tell me what else.”

  The growl in my ear sends shivers down my spine, which don’t go unnoticed by James.

  “Tell me.” He groans again, biting at my neck and then sucking at the skin.

  “More,” I whisper, closing my eyes, wanting so much more yet afraid to tell him. If he suddenly pulls away, if he suddenly rejects me, it will be the final straw.

  “What’s more, Peach?”

  “Everything.”

  “Gonna need to be specific, baby.” His lips suck hard at my neck, and I’m certain he’s leaving a mark, imprinting himself on my skin as though he has in my heart.

  “I want you to fuck me.” I’ve surprised myself with the request as well as the tone of my voice. James halts, pulling back to look me directly in the eyes. The eyes he claims he can’t gaze upon. The look in them is one he no longer wants to see.

  “You want that?” His smoky voice ripples over my skin, shooting straight to one desperate spot on me.

  “Yes.” I exhale, but before the last breath escapes me, his mouth crashes mine again. With hands at my hips, he lifts me for the island top, spreading my knees. His hands lower for my backside and tug me to the edge, pressing me against the hard ridge in his jeans. We’re kissing as though we’ve never kissed before, and we’ll never kiss again, and I can’t get my mouth close enough to his. My jean jacket is roughly removed from my shoulders, and I shrug out of it without breaking from his lips. I yank at the snaps on his quilted flannel, spreading it wide to feel the softest of T-shirts underneath. James shucks the flannel.

  With two hands back on my cheeks, my fingers lower for his belt, working it through the latch. James releases me and starts removing my boots, tossing them to the floor. He rushes to shove my dress up to my hips at the same time his mouth comes back to mine, drawing me into another lengthy kiss before pulling away.

  “Ain’t no going back again, Peach,” he warns me, but I’m so worked up I can’t think. Despite six years of distance, James is just as firm as ever, and I tug at his T-shirt to feel his skin. He yanks it over his head in that one-handed removal all men have perfected, and then he’s tugging at my underwear. Once he has them over my hips, he yanks them down my legs, and I fall back on the island, catching my head before it hits the surface. He gazes down at my body, and his eyes smolder while his large hands rub up my thighs, spreading me wider.

  “Jesus, Peach,” he hisses, staring down at my center laid out on display for him on the counter. We’ve never done it like this, so reckless and carefree in broad daylight in our kitchen. Our kitchen.

  His hands skim up my thighs over my pelvis to my belly. Curling over my sides, he pulls me upright and continues lifting his hands to remove my dress. Over my head it goes, leaving me in only my bra. James is done fooling with clothing, and he tugs down the edge of my bra cup and opens his mouth wide to take my breast. Sucking hard, he swirls his tongue around my nipple, and I wrap my hands around his head, holding him in place against me. He twirls around the tight nub and then presses his teeth on the sensitive skin around it.

  “There’s so much I want to do to you. I don’t know where to start. I want to be everywhere at once,” he says, tugging the other edge of my bra down, trussing up my other breast and lapping at it before sucking the same way he worked the first. Full mouth. Tender tongue. Another nip.

  He pulls back too quickly, and I cry out, but his mouth comes to mine, and he leans me back while still kissing me. We continue kissing, mouths seeking while his fingers tweak my nipple and his other hand moves down my side. My arms are linked around his neck while the heat of me presses against his abs. I need some friction, and I latch a leg over his hip. He’s still wearing his jeans, but I want to feel him against me. Instead, that wandering hand comes between my thighs, and his thumb strokes over my clit.

  I gasp, releasing his mouth and slipping back to the countertop. James glances down where his thumb circles the nub and slowly stands, still watching where he’s touching me. He fumbles with the remainder of his belt, unzipping his jeans with one hand and shoving down the sides to expose himself. My mouth waters at the coarse smattering of hair and the hard as steel erection popping free. Taking himself in hand, James rubs from base to tip and then places the end at my entrance, rubbing it up and down against my opening.

  “So fucking juicy. Better than I remember.” He’s speaking to himself while addressing my most intimate area, and I watch in fascination as he draws himself back and forth where I weep for him to enter.

  “James,” I groan, and he looks at me, wonder written in his expression. “Please.”

  He’s tortured me long enough. He tugs me forward by my hips and then surges inward, and we both let out an exaggerated groan.

  “Oh my God,” I moan.

  “So good,” he counters. He slides back and forth, filling me over and over as my head rolls on the island top. My eyes close from the sensation of him inside me. It’s freeing while he fills me, sliding in and out over and over again, and then he pulls free.

  “No,” I choke, turning back to face him. My eyes pop open as I stare at him between my spread thighs.

  “Just want to do everything,” he mutters as if speaking to himself, and he bends at the waist, leaning forward so his mouth covers me. I lurch upward at the sudden swipe of his tongue.

  “My peach,” he hums against me as he takes a second lick. He purrs louder before fixing his mouth to me and thrusting his tongue forward. Leaning back again, James devours me like he hasn’t eaten in weeks, months, years. I don’t want to consider him doing what he’s doing to anyone else but me, and by the way he’s feasting on me, I can’t imagine it anyway. This is all him on me. This is us.

  His tongue continues to torture and tease, and I feel myself dripping down my seam to the counter. My fingers reach for James’s head, but he grips my hands and holds them
down at my sides, not losing a beat with his attention on me. My legs shake. My knees bounce. I can’t feel my feet as a ripple rushes up my shins, and another flutters down my middle. Everything inside me races to my center and crashes together, and I scream. I’ve never been a screamer, but I scream at the orgasm ripping me in two and breaking me in half.

  James increases his tempo until my thighs are quivering. I can’t control my body, and I’m ready to cry out for him to stop when he breaks free of my clit and stands upright, grabbing his shaft before thrusting into me again.

  “So wet,” he hisses, hammering into me as I coat him everywhere. “God, Evie, I love you like this. Want to feel you spill all over me.”

  He watches himself disappear inside me, and I hold my head upright to watch as well. The power in his abs cinch and clutch as his hips rock forward, back and repeat. He’s still holding my wrists at my sides, losing himself inside me, and then he tips, and his penis rubs me in a new way, dragging over the sensitive nub before getting lost inside me again. Another ripple is building. My feet start tapping, and my legs jiggle. James releases my wrists and reaches for my shins, shoving my legs upward and forcing my knees to bend to my chest. I’m in the most precarious position, open to him in every way, and he focuses on sliding into me, rushing to the brink.

  “I’m gonna . . . it’s going to happen again.” I’m warning him because I don’t want to be selfish, but I’m so close. I’ve experienced multiple orgasms, but it’s rare, and I’ve cut myself off sometimes by sensing it’s taking too long to reach a second peak.

  “Get there,” he demands. “Coat me in your juices, Peach. I want to feel you dripping all over me.”

  Sweet Jesus, that mouth. But between the trick of his shaft dragging against me and the open position of my knees plus his dirty language, I break, letting out another loud groan of defeat. My body is betraying me, or maybe it’s a victory. This is what I’ve needed from him.

  James continues to hammer into me, but he releases my shins, and my legs drop back over the edge of the counter. He takes my hands and pulls me upright, slipping free of me, and I moan, “No.”