Chapter 13
Rhys
It’s bumper-to-bumper, as a swarm of vehicles crawl to their destination. The ride up to my little sanctuary was relaxing. The return home is a bitch.
The storm hit hard.
It’s like the sky ripped open. A rarity for SoCal.
We seek shelter, huddled with a few other people under the roof of the bathroom stalls.
Not the best place to be. Half an hour after the rain subsided, I made an executive decision.
Riding a motorcycle when the roads are wet isn’t ideal.
I don’t plan on going fast, so we should be okay.
The fact today is Sunday, plays in our favor.
I’m a safe driver, but since Keira is the pillion rider, I’m extra careful.
Thank God, I’m not dealing with an anxious novice.
She shifts her weight, mirroring me on turns in perfect synchronization. It’s as if we’re one.
All my senses are on alert. My eyes are fixed on the road, cautious of potential threats. It’s bound to happen since Angelenos can’t drive for shit when the roads are slippery.
Keira is wrapped around me, her head pressed against my back, her arms circling my waist, holding me tight as we travel at a safe speed.
As I’m thanking my lucky stars we’ll make it back to my place in one piece, thunder roars and it’s pouring again.
Fuck.
From the mirror, I spot the nose of a cargo truck gunning down the highway. Those motherfuckers are an annoyance on a sunny day. Worse on a day like today.
I curse.
I grip the handle of my custom Fat Bob tighter and steady it.
Even though the Harley-Davidson is a sturdy bike, I’ve never missed my SUV or one of my many cars more than I do now.
Time to get off the highway. Fast.
I move one lane.
Then, another.
A row of bumper-to-bumper vehicles prevents me from moving one more lane.
Shit.
To my left, another cargo truck inches forward.
A bigger one this time.
The fucker zooms by us like a speeding bullet.
In doing so, the 18-wheeler’s tires hit a puddle, splashing enough water to fill a swimming pool straight at me.
I mentally prepare myself, white knuckling the bike’s handles, praying to God I keep my eyes open.
My breath hitches from the impact against my visor.
Jesus.
My heart pounds and adrenaline shoots through my veins as I struggle to regain control of the seven-hundred-pound beast roaring between my legs.
If I let the bike fishtail, we’re dead. Cars around me honk their horns, only adding to my stress. It’s a tug-of-war for a few frightening seconds, but years of riding kicks my instincts into gear.
Keira’s arms close around my chest like a vice.
At least, I haven’t lost her.
The cargo truck is long gone and oblivious to its destructive wake.
Fucker.
When I see an opening, I change lanes.
I don’t have far to go to reach the exit.
Thank God.
I rev up the engine and leave the jungle behind.
I spot a gas station and set course towards it.
Once I get there, I turn off the ignition and lift my visor.
Dirty water drips everywhere.
I look up to the sky and exhale on a prayer.
My father must’ve been watching over us because that was a harrowing experience. One I’m not looking forward to repeating anytime soon.
Fuck, I’m soaking wet.
I caress Keira’s thigh, soothing her.
“Hey, you okay?”
She nods against my back.
“Get off.”
She does.
I do the same.
I remove my helmet and hook it on the bike’s handle.
Then, I remove hers.
I inspect her from head to toe. “You okay?”
She doesn’t answer.
She’s as wet as a kitten after a bath.
As freaked out, too.
Her eyes are as wide as plates.
Dammit.
I grab her shoulders.
She’s shaking.
Shit, shit, shit.
“I’m so sorry about that,” I say. “I guess we should’ve waited a little longer. That was a bad call on my part.”
She blinks up at me.
She must be in shock.
“Keira.” I shake her hard.
She laughs.
Unrestrained, full, belly laughter.
I furrow my brows together. “What am I missing?”
“That was scary. And freaky. And bloodcurdling. Even though I saw my life flash in front of my eyes, it was a hell of a rush. I’m still high. It was as exhilarating as stepping on stage for the first time.”
She cracks up again.
Her laughter is the most beautiful sound in the world… after her voice.
Relief bursts through me that she’s laughing and not crying.
“You promised me fun, and you delivered in spades, Rhys.”
Her girlish attitude is a throwback.
I’m fourteen again and she’s the excited six-year-old standing in front of me, grinning from ear to ear after completing her first round on roller skates without assistance.
She’s wearing the same wondrous expression.
Noah and I used to drag her along to the matinee circuits at our favorite roller-skating rink when he’d wake up to find his mother’s latest boyfriend in her bed.
“I have many talents, but that fun-filled adventure was courtesy of Mother Nature,” I say. “Seriously, are you okay?”
“I might have to scrub my body for a solid twenty minutes because I swear dirty water is running down my back, but I’m okay.”
“Nothing hurts?”
She wiggles like a ragdoll.
I can’t help my laugh.
“Nope. I’m in tiptop shape.”
“Let’s get you home.”
It’s a long ride back to Manhattan Beach, but we make it safe and sound.
We hop off the bike and make our way to the house, leaving behind us a trail of wet footprints.
“I can’t get over your eye-popping toys,” Keira says as we pass my collection. “You have several millions sitting here.”
“Crazy, huh?” I say. “It’s unfathomable that six years ago I hit rock bottom and now I have a dozen-and-a-half luxury cars and a handful of pricey custom bikes lined up in my expansive garage.”
Other than one bike I would’ve died for, I lost everything before entering rehab. Money, mansion, cars, friends, status, and dignity. All gone. My parents, Noah, and Keira were the only ones who didn’t turn their backs on me.
We enter the house.
She glances up at me. “Are you going to get your bike serviced?”
“Absolutely,” I say. “No doubt top-of-the-line Harley Davidson bikes are built to weather whatever, but I don’t want to take a chance. That was a lot of water.”
“Yeah.” She looks down her body. “And I’m still drenched in most of it.”
I chuckle.
“I’m soaked down to my socks and boxer briefs.”
“Same here, minus the boxer briefs,” she says. She wipes the back of her hand across her forehead, smearing mud there. When she looks down at her hand, she rolls her eyes. “It’s all over my face?”
“Yup.”
“I’m pretty sure I smell like mud, so why not have it all over, right?”
“I’m not faring much better. We’re in this together. I’m sure I stink.”
“At least we don’t smell like Eau de Vage.”
My eyes hit my forehead.
“Then, we’d stink like skunks.”
I laugh.
She narrows her eyes at me. “You know what I’m talking about?”
“Sadly, I do,” I say before laughing again.
“Is it the signature perfume of one of your uncomplicated hookups?”
“That would’ve sent me running the other way.” I can’t stop laughing.
Keira joins me.
“That awful synthetic scent is enough to convince any guy to become celibate for life,” I say. “That’s just wrong. It’s a slap across God’s face. You can’t ever––and shouldn’t try––to imitate a woman’s natural, glorious scent––”
I groan internally when the words come flying out of my mouth.
Her eyes bulge out of her skull.
“Sorry. That was way too much information,” I say.
What was I thinking?
That’s the problem. I wasn’t. She’s so easy to be around, and so easy to talk to.
“Come on, let’s get out of this wet and dirty clothing,” I say.
“Good idea.”
I walk to a basket tucked out of sight.
I unzip my leather jacket and peel it off my shoulders before dropping it in the basket.
My drenched t-shirt sticks to my torso like a second skin.
Unpleasant notes of my body odor tickle my nose, and I grimace.
Someone needs a shower.
“Leave your jacket in the basket.” I glance over my shoulder. “Since it’s still early, we’ll stop by a dry cleaner after we take a shower. If this stuff dries without proper care, it’ll be useless.”
“Sounds good,” she says from behind me.
“We’ll also take our leather pants. We’ll make a pit stop to the cobbler for the motorcycle boots. Bring yours down when you’ve stripped out of them.”
“Okay,” Keira says.
I proceed to remove my boots and soaked socks.
Her presence looms behind me.
When I turn around, I bring my hand to my chest, fearing I’m having a heart attack.
Holy fucking hell.
“Wh––what are you doing?” My eyes travel the length of her heavenly body.
Blood roars in my ears as my cock swells.
“I’m doing what you told me.” She offers a coquettish smile.
“Huh?”
“You said to dump everything in the basket.” She throws my words back in my face.
Words I regret ever saying because the sight of her standing a little too close in nothing more than a wet t-shirt and a pair of pink bikini panties.
Her white t-shirt does shit to hide her protruding nipples peering through her sheer bra.
The sight is making my cock drunk.
I want to reach out, pluck them and twist them between my fingers until she moans in ecstasy.
“What’s the point of going upstairs in wet clothes and coming back downstairs with them?” she says. “By stripping now, I save your expensive wood floors.” She leans in like she’s plotting a conspiracy. “You’re welcome.”
“I would’ve cleaned the floors,” I say in a gruff voice. “You didn’t have to get undressed down here.”
She waves a finger at her body. “You’ve seen me in a bathing suit plenty of times. In fact, I was in one this morning as you were doing your laps. What’s the big deal?”
Yesterday’s shopping trip was the end of me. Underwear shopping and bikini shopping on the same day? A man can only take so much. And now, I’m paying the price.
Keira doesn’t wait for my answer. That’s a good thing, because my brain can’t string a sentence together. She walks around me to the basket.
My eyes follow her.
She bends over, flashing me a majestic view of her ass.
My blood turns to fire.
She has the audacity to look over her shoulder, a sly grin stretching her lips.
Little cock-tease.
But fuck if I don’t want to bite that ass. And then I’d let her ride my dick until her legs gave out—
It’s official.
All rational thought has left the building.
Gone.
Done for.
Ladies and gentlemen, you’re witnessing a guy unraveling faster than a knitter’s yarn.
I need to get laid so she doesn’t affect me like this.
She straightens and stares at me, daring me.
As God tests my will, I stare back.
Our eyes lock, and the heat reaches combustive levels between us.
A slow cocky grin stretches her lips.
I should register it’s a precursor to no good, but I don’t. I’m too consumed.
“Where do I leave the t-shirt and my underwear? I’ll remove them now—”
“Not here.” I extend a hand to stop her.
“Relax,” she says. “I’m pulling your leg. No need to get your boxer briefs in a bunch.”
And if her gaze doesn’t drop to the evidence of how my body reacts to her taunting.
Fuck.
My phone rings, putting an end to my torture.
I fish for it in the back pocket of my leather pants.
“I have to take this. It’s Mom.”.
“No problem,” she says. “Tell her I say hi.”
“I will.”
“I’m going upstairs to take a quick shower, and then I’m going to soak in your luxurious bath.” There’s amusement in her voice. “I love being your roommate. I kind of like us getting to know each other better.”
And… she’s off.
Little devil.
She saunters out of the transition area, humming a song, and wiggling her butt. I stand there ogling like a fool.