7. Casper
seven
Casper
The ride back to town isn't as exciting as the ride up, and that may have something to do with how silent Kylee's become.
I think I pushed too much, but I couldn't have helped it if I'd tried. Getting excited to get a little of this weight off my chest was an opportunity that felt too good at the time.
I don't regret it, despite the silence. Relieved that I put myself on her radar at least, I'm happier to know she isn't purposely out there looking for someone. Makes the worry of fighting off any competition less of an issue.
By the time we make it back to the strip, Kylee's muffled voice is telling me to drive to the back. There's another lot for parking, for those who own the different shops, if I have to guess. I'm not a fan of the lack of lighting, but not because of how it affects me.
While I can see perfectly, I know she can't. So, if any dangers were lurking, she wouldn't have a clue.
I'll have to look into how late her shop closes. Maybe I can convince her to lock up while the sun is still out.
Damn. If I overstep, she won't want me, though, will she?
Pointing over my shoulder at a red van with rust eating at where the tires are, I crack a small smile as I pull in next to it. Shutting off my bike, I lean against her grip on my shoulder as she gets off.
Knowing I'm going to have to replace my glasses, I tuck them in their case as she wrestles the helmet off. She doesn't realize how much it makes her short hair curl up wildly, and I can't help the grin that forms when I get to see the effect not once, but twice now.
I don't miss the way she pauses at seeing my face, but any previous tension I may have felt in the past is no longer there.
She said my eyes were pretty. A compliment like that shouldn't make me so giddy, but fuck, I'd be a liar if I said I didn't want to hear her say other nice things about me. From her lips, I can't even convince myself that she's simply trying to save my feelings.
No, those flushed cheeks of hers are very telling.
"I hope you had fun." Taking the helmet from her, I don't put it on immediately. Call me greedy for wanting every possible second of having her eyes on me. "Maybe we could do this again?"
Even if she doesn't want to see it as a date, or anything romantic, I'll take what I can get.
Leaning down slightly into her line of sight, I purposely look into her eyes. "Because as much as I love your quaint little bookshop, Kylee, I wouldn't mind seeing you outside of business hours."
I don't miss the way her brows pinch together, or the sudden, tense frown that takes over her face. It’s a look of pure internal conflict, but all I see is a stop sign.
Ah. Damn, there I go again.
Before I can apologize, hell, try to put it in reverse, I freeze when she moves first.
Her hands lift, and she plants them right on my face. Her palms are warm, a stark contrast to the cool night air, and the sheer shock of her touch locks my muscles in place. She leans in, and before I can even register what's happening, this woman kisses me.
It's not a heavy, demanding kiss, but it completely throws me off. Her mouth is incredibly soft as it brushes against mine, and just like that, every single thought in my head straight-up disappears. The world goes completely quiet.
When she pulls back, there's annoyance and something hot simmering in her gaze.
"Uh." My brain refuses to fire a single useful signal. Unable to remember how to form actual words, I make the stupidest, blankest sound.
"A taste of your own medicine," she huffs, her breath ghosting over my tingling lips before she pulls away completely. "Goodnight."
Wait, what?
I reach out for her without thinking, my fingers catching nothing but empty air. She’s already gone, slipping inside her van, and before the phantom heat of her lips can even begin to fade, she’s shooting out of the lot.
The taillights disappear, leaving me alone in the dark, quiet lot. The first thought that fights its way back into my head is to follow her—to chase after the van and demand a proper first kiss where I'm actually conscious enough to participate.
But the sheer realization of how utterly useless she's just made me takes the wind right out of my sails. A breathless, dry laugh leaves me because I can't even move my legs to kick the bike into gear.
Coasting my fingers against my lips, heat burns against the back of my neck at her words, and another laugh leaves me.
It starts as a breathless chuckle but builds until it echoes right off the brick walls of the empty lot.
If anyone were out here right now, they’d think I’ve completely lost my mind.
And fuck, maybe I have.
"Of my own medicine?" Repeating her words out loud, my mouth curls against my fingers.
Is this how she feels when I flirt with her? Talk about intoxicating.
Numbingly starting my bike once more, I plop my helmet on. Delightfully discovering that every inhale smells like her shampoo, it makes the survival of the drive back home that much more bearable.
But the sweetness of her scent is a trap.
Trapped inside the helmet with me, her fragrance fills my lungs with every breath, and my body reacts before my brain can stop it. I am rock-hard within seconds, the denim of my jeans straining painfully against the rigid length of my dick.
The low rumble of the bike shifting beneath me rubs right against the ache, and I swear out loud, the sound swallowed by the helmet.
It's a dangerous, heavy kind of desperation.
Halfway down the stretch of empty streets, my hand twitches on the throttle. The urge to pull over into the pitch-black shadows, to rip my belt open just to relieve the agonizing pressure, is a temptation I don’t know if I have the strength to fight.
A kiss of all things to bring me to this state? I must’ve been starving for such contact.
Shaking my head, I soar through every red light, not caring enough about the few cars I pass as I make it to my destination. By the time I’m parked in front of a familiar building, I’m practically panting by the time I rip off my helmet.
If I don't get her out of my system in the next five minutes, I am going to become feral. At that point, there’s no turning back.
That is, if I haven’t already reached that point as it is.
The Ironwood Hounds leave their marker, and suddenly, I’m the one stuck running around chasing leads.
Dante purposely pairs me up with Crow, pretending it’s for backup, but I know better—he’s just trying to keep me on a short leash.
Usually, I’m happy to follow orders, but right now? If the guy wasn't built like a brick wall, I’d throw a punch just to see if it makes him clear my schedule.
Because of him, I broke my streak. For one entire day, I miss her. Even in an attempt to stop by the shop as an excuse, I miss her.
Finding out Kylee locks up before sundown shouldn't feel like a personal insult, but it does.
When an Outlaw Sinner gets in my face under poor communication, I don't even try to de-escalate like I usually do. I just snap. Not even Crow can stop me from lashing out.
The tussle leaves me with a busted lip and a sore cheek, but the physical pain is nothing compared to the stress of Dante barking through my phone later for losing my temper. At least I didn't go out of my way to kill anyone, but that is besides the point.
I can’t even tell him why I’m acting out. I don't get angry like this. I’m the guy who smiles through the bullshit, but right now, anyone standing in my way feels like an obstacle standing in my way.
When I purposely reach the strip the next day early enough to avoid any immediate club orders, I wonder how Kylee will react when I show my face.
Will she be annoyed with me for skipping my routine? The last time I'd seen her, she looked frustrated. I think. I've run the memory through my head too many times for it to be clear anymore, and I can't tell which parts are still real and which I've altered.
Shaking my head, I listen to the same jingle of the bell I've heard so many times over and immediately notice she's got a few customers.
Talk about luck.
Two women look my way, and instantly, heat crawls up my throat. Despite my helmet, it feels like they can see right through my protection.
Giving them a quick nod and getting smiles in return, I shuffle toward the furthest corner away from them.
Staring at books for the most part, I glance to the side in hopes of catching a glimpse of Kylee.
I find her standing behind her counter. She must've noticed me first, because despite the blush on her cheeks, she's frowning.
Ah. Once it's just the two of us, I can properly apologize.
Telling myself to look away, to figure out what I'm even going to say to her, my eyes linger all on their own.
She's back to wearing dresses. Today is a farm-like baby blue with a plaid pattern. Her mouth is painted in a pale pink, and I can't help but notice the glossy sheen. Is it a lip gloss kind of day? Hell, is it flavored?
Keeping my groan to myself, I put my attention back in front of me when I hear the shuffle of feet moving across the carpet.
By the time I hear the bell above the door ring, I can feel the burn of my lungs from forgetting to breathe. Something that comes so naturally shouldn't be so easy to forget how to do.
Turning toward her, I glide over to the counter. Seeing her frown up close does absolutely nothing to ease the painful ache stretching against my zipper, but just looking at her—knowing she’s right here, safe, and within arm's reach—finally settles the erratic pacing in my chest.
Just as I expect, her eyes narrow before darting to the side. "You didn't show up yesterday."
Popping my helmet off, I set it aside. "About that—"
A gasp leaves her, and before I can react, she's not only got her full attention on me, but her thumb is grazing my swollen cheek. "What happened?"
Oh, this is no good. I'm already considering the idea of getting beaten up again so she can get worked up about me even more.
I lean heavily into her touch, tilting my head into her warm palm like a stray begging for a scrap.
My smile stretches, splitting the cut on my lip just enough to feel a sharp sting, but I can't bring myself to care. "Just another disagreement. But if I knew I'd get this kind of welcome, I would've let him hit me a few more times."
She scoffs at my words and pulls her hand away before I can enjoy it too much. Cradling her hand to her chest, her frown is softer than before. "Here I thought... I may have scared you away. Instead, you were out causing more trouble for yourself."
Scared me away? Now that's funny.
Leaning over the counter, I can't stop the laugh that leaves me.
"It hurts pretty bad, you know? Those guys out there don't try to hold back when they're unhappy.
" Looking at those glossy lips, I nudge impossibly closer to the counter.
"The only remedy that comes to my mind is if a pretty woman kisses it better. "
What's more funny is the realization that I've lasted less than five minutes in her presence before caving to the need to want another kiss.
After sitting on it for a long time, the brush she'd given me was not enough. I need a real kiss.
She rolls her eyes, but doesn't pull away. I can't miss the way her eyes flick down to the split. "You really want another one? Wasn't the first one terrible?"
Coming off as whispered, I can hear her nerves dousing the question. Forget about her being angry with me. I think I've made her misunderstand my disappearance.
"Yeah." Nodding my head, I curl my hands tight against the edge of the counter. "I really do."
Hell, I'm ready to beg her to put her mouth on my cheek to feel her breath tickle my skin, but the chance never comes. Not when she reaches out to touch the metal teeth on my cut.
Gripping the open flaps, she tugs me lightly, but I may as well fall over to her demand.
She pinches her eyes shut, and it's the cutest thing until the moment comes when her lips graze the split.
One light brush shouldn't make my heart slam against my ribs, but here we are.
"It doesn't just hurt there," I say, my voice wavering against my will.
Her blush is spreading all the way to her ears now. "Where else?"
Lifting one of my hands to gently caress her face, I feel the heat of her skin burning against my fingertips.
"Right here," I murmur before pressing my mouth fully against hers. Unlike Kylee, I'm not satisfied with a brush. I part my lips and, as politely as a man about to lose his cool can, graze my tongue against her strawberry-flavored lips to seek entrance.
Her sudden intake of breath is all the invitation I need.
My tongue slides past her teeth, deep and demanding, and any lingering thought of being polite completely incinerates.
I don’t just want to taste her; I want to consume her. I map the roof of her mouth, tangling my tongue with hers until she’s gripping the front of my jacket just to stay upright.
She tastes like my new favorite fruit, and the sound she makes against my mouth, a tiny, helpless whimper, goes straight to my cock.
My hand moves from her cheek, my fingers tangling in the short, wild curls at the nape of her neck to keep her connected to me. I tilt her head, angling the kiss deeper, losing myself in the hot slide of our tongues until my lungs are screaming for air.
The sweetness is dizzying, but it isn't enough. The ache in my jeans is a blinding roar now, and my brain is already mapping out the path my mouth wants to take—down her jaw, along her collarbone, right to the edge of that baby blue dress.
I lean into her, wanting to press my weight against her until she feels exactly what she’s doing to me, but the solid wood of the counter blocks my hips.
The physical barrier sends a wave of pure frustration straight down my spine. The easygoing facade I usually wear crumbles right there on the spot. I break the kiss with a strength I don't realize I possess, my chest heaving as I stare at her strawberry-stained mouth.
While she's staring at me in a daze, I'm looking around the counter.
Pulling away from her entirely, my boots catch the carpet with every stomp to get around to her.
The only thing in my way is a small chain with an Employees Only sign hanging from it.
As soon as I'm stepping over it, I'm crowding her body with mine before she can even register what I've done.
I've reached my limit with this beautiful woman, and I refuse to let anything get in my way of finally tasting her.