A Ride to Remember (Biker Erotic Romance) (2 page)

CHAPTER THREE

Though winter didn't really descend on Texas the same way it did the rest of the country, Cecilia was acclimated to the hundred plus degree weather that dominated half the year. The cool winds at her bare legs might as well be icy claws tearing at her, chilling her right to her core. The only warmth was the heat of Ray's back and she pressed into him, ducking her face in his spine and squeezing his chest hard.

Memories flooded back, of a carefree Cecilia astride a worn, 70s Harley and Ray's fervent kisses. How many times had they snuck off late at night to drive around the town? How many nights did they spend on a worn blanket keeping each other warm in all the most delectable of ways?

She'd loved him once. Cecilia had fallen head over heels for the rebellious teen Ray with long hair and a smile to die for. And then he'd left her behind like trash, as if he had better things to do than stoke the fire he'd kindled.

Her nails found their way into the tender expanse of his stomach, barely protected by the thin shirt, and she dug them in sharply. He grunted and the muscles hardened under her grip but she didn't release him until they pulled up to a nice little restaurant and shut off the engine. When she stepped off the bike, rearranging her dress quickly and running her fingers through tangled tresses she was able to rework her defenses.

The same couldn't be said about Ray's shirt.

There were a few holes right over his stomach, and he was chuckling silently, chest and shoulders shaking. But he threw his arm around her waist and guided her toward the front door of the little French restaurant.

If she wasn't so cold her teeth were chattering she would've shoved him away. As it was, he was the only warmth she could feel and his searing heat transferred just fine through the jacket.

A kind, if overly amused, maitre'd brought them to a little booth on the far side of the restaurant. Lights were turned low and the pale cloth covering the table had a small candelabra casting dancing light across the plastic seats. She collapsed in one, making it abundantly clear by her position that he should take the seat across from her.

He ignored the unspoken demand and scooted her nearly into the wall with his bulky mass. Even sitting down he was nearly a head taller than her.

Grumbling to herself, she blew the hair off her forehead and took the menu without comment or thanks.

She buried herself in the semi-foreign words and planned out her meal while Ray tried (and failed) to order a bottle of Merlot. He kept pronouncing it wrong and the maitre'd looked sick at the sound, asking him to repeat the request because he didn't understand.

When the man finally left, shaking with either frustration or amusement, Ray tossed his arm back around her slowly warming shoulder and squeezed.

“I'm glad you agreed to come out tonight.” He grinned, casting his gaze down at her small frame and finding his attention lost to the bared cleavage the dress managed to reveal. Cecilia smacked his chest without looking up from the menu. He was too predictable.

“I only did it so you'd leave me alone. You could have gotten me fired, Owens.” She grumbled. She rarely called him by his last name unless unbelievably pissed, and the tightening of his hold belied his surprise.

“You're really that upset?” When there was no answer to his prompting, Ray pushed the menu out of her hand and lifted her chin with a firm, if almost gentle, grip. “I was a stupid kid back then, Cece. I thought I'd be back in a few weeks, rolling in dough and riding a gold-rimmed bike.”

“That's not an excuse.” Cecilia replied, voice neutral. She was fuming but if she let the dam break on her anger they'd draw attention to themselves and she couldn't bear the embarrassment of that. Mostly because, to win the argument, Ray would toss her over his shoulder and drag her off for a make-up fuck in the bathroom. He really wasn't a subtle man.

“No it isn't. There is no excuse, I fucked up.” He nudged her with his massive shoulder. “I've always regretted leaving the way I did.” The thread of control quivered. Cecilia's teeth clenched and released as she fought to speak.

“If you regretted leaving you would have come back. Or called. Or something.” she said. “If you really cared, you would have done something.”

Ray didn't respond at first. The wine was delivered and their orders placed long before he completed whatever befuddling thoughts ran through his thick skull.

“I couldn't.” That was his only reply. Control shivered, drew taut. Snapped.

“Couldn't. What the fuck kind of answer is that Ray?” She whispered, face red and eyes hot. “You couldn't? Was someone breaking phones in your hand? Were there no stamps in Nevada? Or wait, don't tell me. They threatened my life and said you could never speak to me again or I'd die, is that it? Ray, when are you going to grow up and stop acting like a coward?” Cecilia shoved at his arm, ripping it forcibly off her shoulders. It irked her that he'd let her--it always bothered her how much stronger he was, how easily he could overpower her. Not that he ever would. Ray had never been that kind of man. But it made her feel weak. Worthless. Unable to even defend herself or get away.

Just like now, when she couldn't get out of the booth and just run. Run and run until she couldn't feel his lips on hers anymore, couldn't hear the way he crooned her name just before sliding into her. The way he held her every night, smoothed her hair, and would never, ever sleep until she'd fallen into slumber first.

The pain of being forgotten and broken was burning through her. The shame and fear that worked its way past her defenses and poised above her heart, still so fragile. Still unable to let anyone in. Cecilia struggled, shoving at Ray, eyes squeezed tightly shut and tears glistening at the corners of her eyes. She slapped him and shoved at his stupid leather jacket, his stupid face, his stupid wavy hair that smelled like oil and the lavender shampoo he'd used.

Ray wrapped his fingers around her wrists and held her while she fought, breathing hard. When the futility of struggling finally set in she stopped, worn out and face streaked. Thankfully she'd used waterproof mascara; otherwise she'd look like the dramatic goth boys with weird lines of eyeliner etched down their faces.

“Please let me explain before you claw my eyes out,” Ray breathed, his fingers stroking her wrists at the pulse points and holding her hands to his chest. She dug in her nails but didn't look up. “As soon as I got to Reno, I realized what a mistake it was. Don't get me wrong, I love riding. I love the camaraderie and bonds struck with my friends. But leaving you was the hardest, worst decision in my life.

“When I realized the streets weren't paved with gold and gangs didn't just grab you up and put you in the top dog position I thought about turning back, running home to you. But I was ashamed.” His voice was soft, and he held Cece's hands close to him, fingers lacing with hers. “How could I come home a failure, a loser who was barely big enough to scrub grease from these guys' feet? I wanted to call but I knew if I did I'd break down. I'd disappoint you.

“I made a mistake, and I was going to make up for it. But I couldn't return empty handed. The first year flew by and I thought
'this will get me what I need to make Cece happy
'. And then the second was gone and I was barely scraping by. Five years and I still wasn't much in the rankings, and we were doing dangerous, stupid things. Robberies. Drug-running.” He laughed, and it was a caustic sound. Nothing like the music his vocal cords used to make, the deep rumble that was more familiar to Cece than her own laugh.

“I was a damn outlaw, and I'd gone there to prove myself a man. What man shoots at cops?” He shook his head. “By the time I found out how deep I'd gotten I only had one decision left. To change things.

“That's exactly what I did. It took ten years to get where I am, Cece, but I did it. And I did it for you.” He shook his head, then. “Not entirely for you. For the people I cared about who were putting their lives in danger for a fool. For myself, to prove I was good enough. But you were the only one in my heart and on my mind twenty-four, seven.” Ray squeezed, almost crushing her fingers, and Cecilia's heart constricted. She started to move, to reach out and touch him, when a young woman arrived with a tray of delights.

If Ray was startled by her sudden appearance or embarrassed by the red cast to his eyes, he didn't show it. He thanked her warmly and waved her off.

Cece's fingers were finally released and she pooled them in her lap. Their food sat untouched as she mulled over everything.

It still didn't excuse Ray's actions.

He didn't know her at all.

She stewed there in her seat under Ray's brooding gaze until the silence was too much.

“You're a damn idiot.” She didn't look at him. She couldn't. “I've never in my entire life met someone so stupid that bashing their skulls with rocks would probably make them smarter.” This time she did look up, and her face was wiped of the dried tears. Her eyes were still brimming but she held them back with a steel grip of force.

“Do you really think I cared about the money or the glory?” The word slid from her mouth in a snarl. “I couldn't give a damn about what name you made for yourself half a country away. I only wanted to be with you, jackass.” She shook, but it was a trembling of frayed nerves and rent emotions.

“If you'd just come home,” she whispered, hands shaking in her lap. “If y-you'd j-just come b-back to m-me,” her shoulders joined her limbs with shakes and Ray immediately drew her close and held her tight, stroking her shoulders and spine while she let out all the wrapped up emotions held inside for an entire decade into his chest.

Her sobs were soundless but hard enough to jar her teeth. Eventually, Cecilia wasn't sure how long, the tears slowed and her aching body slowed with it. Finally, she pulled out of Ray's hold and scrubbed her face with the backs of her hands. She ignored the burn of salty tears on her cheeks, no matter how annoying the itch, and shook her head.

“You should know me better than that, especially back then.” she whispered.

“I'm sorry,” Ray repeated. The words sounded pained and her eyes rose to see the wet streaks on his own face before he wiped them away. “It was never my intention to hurt you.”

“Intentions aren't worth shit, Ray.” She said, but her anger was gone. Dissolved in the wreaked emotions and soaking Ray's white t-shirt. He brushed her cheek with a stray finger, rubbing the line of her cheekbone with a calloused thumb.

“I know. I'll make it up to you.” He promised again. She laughed weakly, throat raw. A sip of wine fixed that, its bitter taste replacing the sour flavor on her tongue.

“Don't think you'll get out of it so easily.” Cecilia turned her attention to the cooling food on her plate and tucked into the meal, eating furiously. It was easier than speaking and it gave her time to gather all the broken strands of control back together. By the time she was scraping traces of sauce off her plate with a fork and licking it clean, she felt better. Not so much in a forgiving mood per se but relieved of some of the bottled feelings weighing her down all these years, though she'd managed to stifle them for a while.

Their poor, wary waiter approached with a flourish. Clearly her little tear-fest had been a performance for a number of people.
Whatever, let them stare
.

“Any dessert tonight?” He held a menu in his slender fingers. Cecilia started to say no when she was cut off.

“Hell yeah. Gimme one of them chocolate mousse things. And that Tier maso.” Ray made it a point to pronounce everything as incorrectly as possible. Cecilia squeaked a laugh, covering her mouth.

“He means tiramasu.” She added, smirk tugging at her lips and shaking her head. “Ignore his Neanderthal mouth. He's working on it.”

The waiter strutted off, stifling his amusement pretty well. Ray feigned insult, pouting. It would've worked better if his eyes weren't sparking with amusement and his mouth was less sensual. The protrusion of his soft lips only left her mouth watering.

Well. Apparently all of her emotions had leaked out from anger into her libido. Or maybe it'd been a while. Not ten years--she mourned for a long time but she didn't let this jerk-off stunt her sexual appetite. Still, his pretty mouth was enticing and she had to avert her eyes.