Chapter 50
Chapter Fifty
Cordelia
The day I rode my first bike out of the lot changed my life forever. It was a Harley-Davidson Softtail Standard. A bit too much for me to handle at seventeen. I was a little clumsy and unsure of myself, but when I felt all that power under me and rode with the wind in my face, I knew it.
I’d be a biker for life.
How cocky I was to think that nothing could top that feeling.
The moment Renthrow’s mouth descends on mine, the world tilts, and I sense a shift.
My Harley’s been usurped.
Renthrow keeps my arm prisoner behind my back as he kisses me, maintaining control with the firm, measured pressure of his hand, yet I feel utterly free.
My eyes fall closed. Everything behind my eyelids is black, but I can picture him clearly. The thick brown hair, the chiseled face, the ridiculously broad shoulders.
His mouth is possessive and impatient. The scrape of his five-o’clock shadow against my skin is intoxicating. We’re both overeager, and the pacing is off by a touch, making the kiss messier than it looks in those perfectly filmed Hollywood movies.
But real-life first kisses aren’t always movie-perfect. And we both slow down a bit, getting to know each other.
Whoa. He tastes delicious.
With one of my senses gone, the others rise to the occasion.
I smell the freshly overturned dirt from the garden and the warm, masculine scent on his skin.
I hear the whistle of the wind in the trees, the croak of cicadas in song, the almost imperceptible groan that seeps out of Renthrow as I raise my free hand to his neck and pull him into me. Our lips move together, and we find our own rhythm.
My brain melts, overcome by the many sensations that ramp up beyond anything that it’s ever been called on to process. Overloaded, it reverts to the default caveman settings.
Pleasure means good. Pleasure means more.
But does pleasure have to mean getting a crick in my neck?
The longer we kiss, the more my neck aches.
I try to ignore it.
It feels amazing to be in Renthrow’s arms. I can taste his neediness, his wanting. And I know, with every sweep of his mouth, that my impulsive little kiss was nothing but a cat mewing at a lion.
I’ve unlocked a dam of pent-up restraint. He’s been longing for me. Way more than I ever thought.
And the evidence of that is pouring out on me tonight.
I welcome the torrent, opening my mouth a little to receive even more of what he has to give. He rewards me by tilting his head to change the angle of the kiss, allowing me a taste of his tongue.
That—and the angle change—helps with the neck crick.
The wind picks up, tossing my ponytail against my shoulder. I get a crick in a different part of my neck this time.
What is wrong with me?
My heart wants to keep kissing, but my neck starts throbbing and not in the delicious, toe-curling, “I want to lick Renthrow like a spoon” way.
He senses the shift in me because he eases away just enough that our lips are still touching.
“What’s wrong?”
I shake my head and bracket my hands against his face to pull his mouth down for more kissing.
“Cordelia,” he says in a way that reminds me of when he scolded Gordie about eating her vegetables earlier.
“My neck,” I stammer, feeling a little stupid.
He laughs softly and starts to step away.
Inside, I throw a tantrum.
Why? Why do we have to stop?
A second later, two hands land on my waist, and I’m airborne. Renthrow moves me where he wants me—and apparently, that’s on top of my bike. Without missing a beat, he swoops in and kisses me again.
I sigh in relief as his tongue slides against my closed lips, and then he pulls back, looking at me with hooded eyes. “Better?”
I nod. “More, please.”
“So polite.” He laughs, and when he kisses me again, our teeth knock together from his smile. I smile too, and snake both hands around his neck as we continue.
There’s warmth.
And flames.
And an exhilarating, indescribable tenderness.
His touch surrounds me, consuming me. I’ve always had to ride to get this feeling, but with one press of his mouth to mine, I’m flying.
Gordie’s laughter filters to us from the direction of the backyard, and it reminds me that we’re not alone in this little bubble of our creation.
Renthrow makes a satisfied humming sound as he pulls back, and I want to grab my phone to record it and set it as my ringtone. It’s the hottest sound I’ve ever heard, and everyone in the town of Lucky Falls should know that I—Cordelia Davenport—did that to him.
“We should probably go back now,” I whisper.
“Probably,” he says, resting his forehead against mine.
“Yeah,” I murmur, not moving an inch.
Renthrow’s eyes drop to my lips again, and he swipes his thumb over them. “Your lips are swollen.”
I cup his jaw. “Your face is red.”
“Is it?” He rubs his cheek, and I hear the brisk sound of his stubble against the palm of his hand.
“Gordie will notice.”
“She won’t.”
“Remember that day I was hiding in your closet?”
His voice rumbles, “Good point. We should probably hang out here for a bit longer to cool off.”
I stop myself just short of asking if “cooling off” means “more kissing.”
Renthrow smiles and then kisses me tenderly on the forehead. “What are you thinking?”
“Thoughts that should not be shared.”
He looks intrigued, but just then, his phone rings.
“It’s Gordie,” he announces.
I nod and gesture for him to take it. Renthrow puts the phone to his ear with one hand and then circles my waist with the other.
“Hey, pumpkin. I found Cordelia. We’ll be back in a second.
” He helps me off the bike as gently as he’d put me on it, and his hands slowly slide away from my body.
“Yes, you can have some chocolate cake. One slice. You’re not supposed to eat sugar this late.
” He pauses for a beat. “No, you can’t negotiate.
It’s either one slice or none.” Another pause. “That’s what I thought.”
I laugh when Renthrow hangs up the phone.
He shakes his head. “Her therapist will kill me. I’m not keeping a schedule with her at all.”
“One teeny piece of chocolate cake won’t hurt,” I assure him.
“I bet she’ll find a loophole that I’m not thinking of.”
“Come on. Gordie’s not like that.”
He gives me a you-gotta-be-kidding look. “I love my daughter. She’s perfect to me. But when it comes to getting what she wants, she’s a pint-sized mastermind.”
“It can’t be that bad,” I insist as we walk into the house together.
I’m immediately proven wrong.
Gordie is sitting around the island counter in the kitchen, tearing into the largest slice of chocolate cake I’ve ever seen in my life.
Brenda sees Renthrow’s disapproving stare and points at my mom. “It wasn’t me.”
“Well, I…” Mom twiddles her thumb. “I heard she could have one slice.”
“Gordie, I think you’ve had enough cake,” Renthrow says in a quiet but firm voice.
“But, Daddy…”
Renthrow pushes the chocolate cake away and swings Gordie into his arms. “Thank you for the meal, Sasha, but it’s getting close to Gordie’s bedtime.”
“Oh.” Mom’s eyelashes flutter, and I can tell she wants to ask them to stay. “Thank you for coming. It was very nice to meet Cordelia’s—”
I shoot Gordie a panicked look.
Mom corrects herself just in time. “New friends.”
Gordie waves. “Bye, Ms. Sasha. Thanks for the food.”
“You’re welcome, darling,” Mom says, her eyes sparkling with affection.
Renthrow focuses on me, and the memory of the kiss hangs between us, filling the air with tension. The butterflies in my stomach riot when he arches a brow in question and tosses his head subtly at the door.
It’s an unspoken invitation to come with them.
I shake my head and wiggle my fists to mimic riding a motorcycle. I don’t want to leave my baby at Mom’s house or else I’ll be forced to come back here. And I have no plans to do that.
Renthrow dips his chin in understanding.
“Daddy, I want to give Delia a hug.” Gordie squirms to be put down.
Renthrow walks closer to me and says gruffly, “Go ahead.”
Gordie sighs like her father has no clue about anything. Then she reaches out to me. “Bye, Delia. I hope you feel better soon.”
My heart melts into a puddle. “Thanks, Gordie.”
Just before Renthrow pulls back, he presses something into my hand. His eyes soften on me as he says, “Goodnight, Cordelia. Ride safe.”
I look down and find the missing key to my bike. How did he get this?
Renthrow meets my inquiring look with a wink and escorts his mother and daughter out of the house.
Mom sees them to the door while I find my helmet on the table in the foyer. After shutting the door, Mom turns to me and lets the silence fill the distance between us.
I pretend not to notice her watching.
Mom fiddles awkwardly with her earring. “Cordelia—”
“It’s late. I’ll head out now.”
“Won’t you stay over? We haven’t seen each other in so long, and you stormed away at dinner, so we couldn’t even catch up.”
I bark out a bitter laugh. “I’m sorry I made a scene and ruined dinner, Mom. But don’t worry. I won’t be attending any more of these, so you don’t have to suffer the embarrassment.”
“Cordelia, when did I say I was embarrassed?” Mom follows me to the door and clips her jacket closed to ward against the chill. “I understand I upset you. I only wanted to share some memories with Brenda and her family. If I knew it would have offended you, I wouldn’t have mentioned it.”
I stomp onto the porch, saying nothing.
She grabs my elbow. “Cordelia. Cordelia, I am your family, and I’m trying here.” Her voice tightens with frustration. “What more do you want from me?”
I turn to her, staring her dead in the eyes. “Gwen’s gone, Mom.”
Her hand falls away from me, and she stumbles back, her mouth going slack in shock.
I dig my talons in deeper, hating myself for being cold and yet not knowing how else to be. “We’re not a family anymore. We never were.” I dig my key into my palm and say, “I want nothing from you.”