CHAPTER NINETEEN CLARKE AND CECI #2
“I recognized you as soon as I saw you up on that bull. We rode that bull together, remember?”
She heard Clarke sigh. Casting a swift glance over her shoulder, she saw that same expression he’d had in the men’s room at the Royal Horseguards Hotel.
He looks like he’s being forced to endure the smell of steaming cabbage. Like this is an assault on his refined sensibilities. Like I am.
The man placed a hand on Ceci’s waist. “Wanna ride again?”
Clarke reached from behind and disengaged the man’s hand. “Keep your hands off her.”
Ceci stiffened. Feeling the anger rise, she drew a deep breath.
I don’t want this man’s hands on me. Clarke’s only looking out for me. So why does it piss me off so much?
Maybe it has something to do with his tone—it matches the look on his face. And he’s still so damn polite. Even now. Heaven forbid, Sir Stick make a scene. Or I do.
Ceci swung around. “What do you think you’re doing?”
He looked shocked, but not in a way that suggested surprise. More like he couldn’t believe she had the audacity to ask him such a question.
He leaned in, his face so close, his breath made the curls that framed her face flutter when he spoke. “Do you want this asshole’s hands on you? Is that what you’re telling me?”
His tone was measured, but he looked angry.
“You would draw that conclusion, wouldn’t you? How about this? I’m telling you I don’t need your help. Haven’t you figured that out yet?”
She turned back to the man. “Don’t put your hands on me again. How would you like it if I put my hands on you without an invitation?”
He opened his arms wide. “Go right ahead, doll.”
“How would you like it if I grabbed your balls and squeezed so hard your teeth hurt?”
He leaned in, a stupid grin on his face.
Did he think she was flirting with him? Could the man be that dense?
He was so close his nose nearly touched hers. “I might like it.”
“Well, I might do it, if I could find them.”
She heard Clarke chuckle behind her.
The man puffed out his chest, looking over the top of her head at what she guessed must be Clarke.
She was sandwiched between them.
“You think that’s funny?” the man bellowed.
“As a matter of fact, yes, I do. And I’m telling you, don’t touch her. That’s twice I’ve told you. Trust me, you won’t like it if I have to tell you a third time.”
Ceci swung around and faced Clarke. “Did you not hear me? Do you not listen? I told you, I can handle this. I am handling this.”
“She’s right, little man. Why don’t you just move along? You’re in the way. She’s handling this just fine.” He bent forward and put his lips near her ear. “Now I’d like to see you handle something else.”
Her gaze shot to Clarke and she watched his face crimson.
But it wasn’t a bashful blush. It was a raging red.
And his eyes grew dark, so dark they looked black.
That face and those eyes seemed to have the power to capture the other man’s attention.
The two of them stood glaring at each other.
She stood between them, but neither of them seemed to notice.
I’m invisible.
Clarke scowled at the man. “Get. Out. Of. My. Way.”
My way? And I’m standing right in front of the man.
She stumbled when she felt a muscular arm brush past her shoulder and shove Clarke.
“Hey!” she shouted.
Clarke took hold of both her arms. “For once, will you let me deal with it?”
He gently pushed her to the side so that she was no longer between them.
The man took a swing. But Clarke ducked.
When Clarke threw his fist, he made contact, but the guy was so big and thick he only stumbled backwards.
When he righted himself, he came roaring back like an animal that had been caged and was suddenly let loose.
He lunged at Clarke, but Ceci jumped in between them.
She was ready to knee the man in the crotch, but she didn’t have enough room with Clarke directly behind her.
So she shoved Clarke aside. After she’d kneed the man, he groaned and hunched over.
“We should get out of here. Now!” she cried, grabbing Clarke’s hand and running to the door.
Even once they were outside, she didn’t stop.
It wasn’t safe to stick around. Eventually the man would come looking for them.
Not to mention, someone might call the police.
Although she doubted it. One fight? That was probably a slow night for them.
She turned down a side street and didn’t stop until she found a small alcove where they could hide.
It took her a moment to catch her breath.
But as she did, she noticed a crimson spot in the corner of Clarke’s mouth.
She watched it flow toward his chin. She blinked once, then twice just to make certain her eyes weren’t deceiving her.
She was definitely feeling the effects of that bourbon, and her vision was a little bleary.
“You’re bleeding!” she cried.
Without thinking, she leaned in using her thumb to stop it, but all she did was draw a red line that traveled up and across his cheek like a brushstroke of paint. “Oh God, I’ve made it worse.” She then used the rest of her fingers trying to make it better. It didn’t.
He clutched her wrist with one hand and put his other hand in his pocket, pulling out a handkerchief.
Of course, the man would have a handkerchief. I bet it’s monogrammed.
She was prepared to pull away while he wiped his cheek and lip, but he turned her hand over and wiped the blood away from her palm and each finger. He stared at her hand, which made her stare at it as well. He’d gotten all the blood. What did he see that she didn’t?
After a moment, he let go and brought the handkerchief to his face.
Staring at his lower lip, she could see it was already swelling. She pointed to the corner. “Still some … there.” She paused. “How did that happen? I thought he didn’t make contact when he swung at you.”
“He didn’t. You did.”
She blinked. “What? I didn’t punch you.”
“No, but you shoved me aside. And when you did, the side of my face hit the edge of the bar.”
Not again.
She groaned. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean for that to happen.”
What are the odds? I’ll have to ask Pixel to do some calculations.
Clarke
Clarke smiled as he pulled the handkerchief away from his lip. “Is it gone?”
She nodded. “Yeah. And the bleeding’s stopped. I hope your lip won’t swell.” She paused. “Too much.”
He could already feel it swelling. What he couldn’t feel was anger.
Not when she looks at me like that.
“I forgive you,” he said, grinning.
He was surprised it didn’t hurt to grin. Probably because of the alcohol. Or maybe it was her. He was certain it would hurt. At some point. Later.
She cocked her head. “I don’t recall asking you for your forgiveness.”
“Nevertheless.”
He wanted her to lean into him again like she had when she was trying to wipe the blood from his lip. He found himself wishing it would start bleeding again.
She pouted, taking on a mocking tone. “Does it hurt? Do you want me to kiss it and make it feel better?”
“And if I said yes?”
She blinked and was quiet. She hadn’t expected him to say that. He could see it in her eyes. It’s something the Man in the Iron Mask would say. Something that fearless driver would say.
She tried to sound careless, but he noticed a difference; her voice had become breathy.
“Why do you need the reassurance? Too fragile to hear no? Or maybe you’ve never heard no before?”
“Yes,” he murmured, feeling his heart pounding in his ears.
She frowned. “Wait. Yes, to which …?”
He grabbed her arms, swung her around, putting her back up against the brick wall. “Does that answer your question?”
“I’m. Not. Sure. Maybe.”
He leaned in, feeling the softness of her body yield and sink into his hard chest. Placing his lips so close he couldn’t tell the difference between his own breath and hers. He could smell the bourbon on her breath. How could it smell so sweet?
“It’s only fair that you should make it feel better, since you’re the one who put it there.”
“I suppose that’s true.” Her voice was barely above a whisper.
He let go of her arms, slid his hands up and over her shoulders, stopping only when they’d reached her neck. His hands could swallow it whole and then some. How could a girl who wasn’t fragile have a neck like this?
He placed his lips on hers and only entered her mouth when she’d opened hers, inviting him in. She tasted so sweet. She reached around him, pulling him toward her. She must know what she’s doing to me, he thought. She couldn’t not feel him—not as hard as he was.
This is even better than deep-fried s’mores. Better than Krispy Kreme burgers. Better than …
It suddenly hit him—it was Ceci Rivers he was kissing.
He took his lips from hers but didn’t pull away; his body was still sinking into her softness.
“This wasn’t part of the agreement, was it?” she asked.
“No,” he chuckled. “It wasn’t.”
“Well, while we’re violating the agreement … I don’t suppose you’re free tomorrow?”
He frowned.
Is she asking me out? On a real date?
“Tomorrow?”
“I might need a wingman when I go to my father’s.”
He looked into her eyes. They were glassy.
She’d drunk a lot of bourbon.
His gaze drifted to her lips.
She must have seen where he was looking because she pulled him in.
And this time, the kiss was so deep, it wasn’t just his lips but his entire body that locked on hers.
He was about to slip his hand under her blouse but quickly stopped and pulled back.
He could see where this was going, and she was drunk.
There were rules about this kind of thing. And he’d never been one to break them.
Besides, if she were sober, none of this would be happening. And that’s because none of it should be happening. It’s a mistake we’ll both regret. I already regret it.
He pulled away completely and took hold of her hand. “Come on, let’s get you home.”
She stumbled, and he put his arm around her to help hold her upright and guide her.
“Home?” she asked. “I don’t want to go home. We’re in Texas, aren’t we?”
“Yes. I meant, back to your hotel.”
“Oh,” she said. “Okay, then.”
Her tone was different now. She sounded … defeated?
No, he heard his brain telling him emphatically. As though, if it spoke with enough force and conviction, he could make it so.
Ceci Rivers defeated? No. Absolutely. Not.
He found himself wanting that snarky, cheeky, combative voice back. Even if she used it to insult him.
True, that voice often irked him. Even angered him.
But this one hurt. And he couldn’t figure out why.