And Then He Kissed Me (18 page)

He glanced down and noticed his hands were shaking slightly. An obvious tell. He closed his eyes, drawing in a slow, steadying breath. When all of him was still—save for his hammering heart—he walked the short distance to the front door, and rang the bell.

*  *  *

Audrey had watched Kieran from the kitchen. Past the living room she could see out the plate-glass window to the edge of the front walk where he was just—standing. Even at a distance she could tell he was studying her house like it was a series of pieces he was trying to fit together, and not a solid structure already in existence.

She leaned against a wall to watch him, wondering what he was thinking. Without his helmet on, his rugged face was exposed to the sun. Her breath paused as the light hit his strong jaw, illuminating the stubble there. The cleft in his chin was a divot of perfection; his green eyes were glinting like pale ocean waves. No, not the ocean, she realized—the
sea
. They were the color of the water when light hit the backs of waves that rolled onto white sands. She could see it in her mind, even though she’d never experienced anything so exotic in real life.

When it dawned on her that Kieran was no longer standing at the edge of the sidewalk, she straightened, knowing he must be headed to the front door. She tugged on the hem of her black fitted T-shirt, so her midriff didn’t show. She was too old for that nonsense, though she did have on a pair of dangerously short cutoffs. She was glad to show her legs—she was proud of those—and for a moment imagined them wrapped around Kieran’s muscled torso. If he were standing, she’d have them looped around his waist, and perhaps he’d lean her against a wall and—

The doorbell rang and Audrey swallowed, realizing she was already flushed. “Good God,” she muttered. At this rate, all Kieran would have to do is lift a finger and she’d be shimmying out of her threads in no time.

She concentrated on relaxing her features and adopting an air of nonchalance. She’d be darned if Kieran would know how much he rattled her.

Apparently, she didn’t need to wonder if Kieran was having any of the same pre-outing jitters. He took one look at her and burst into laughter.

“What in the world are you wearing?” he asked, his eyes dancing with amusement as he took in her T-shirt and shorts.

Audrey found herself tugging on the hem of her shirt again. A thousand smart answers crowded the tip of her tongue, but she held them back. Instead, she brought her hands to her sternum, then began moving them downward. Slowly, slowly, her hands descended over the front of her shirt. The heat of her own skin was a source of energy. She was powerful and beautiful and she dared him to say otherwise. Her brain screamed at her to stop, her practical side was mortified, but the hungry look on Kieran’s face fed the movement. Under his gaze, she came alive.

When her hands reached her breasts, she arched her back a little, but kept up the languid march—down to her abdomen and then to the front of her shorts. She stopped there, but never broke eye contact with Kieran.
Look at me and see more than my clothes,
she demanded silently. The muscles in his jaw tensed.

“Is there a problem?” Audrey asked after a moment. She felt bold and daring, and she’d be damned if she let him, or any man, make her feel otherwise.

Kieran stepped forward. He reached out and hooked one finger through the belt loop of her shorts. He pulled, and Audrey allowed herself to be tugged forward. Her front door was still open, and she wondered if the neighbors were getting an eyeful of Kieran Callaghan standing there while she felt herself. Good grief, what was she
doing
?

Her thoughts were cut off as Kieran pulled her closer still. Their torsos were almost touching. The scant inches between them were filled with electric tension.

He will never give you what you want,
she reminded herself. Not devotion. Not commitment. Not love or a family.

His touch nearly said otherwise. He put a gentle hand on her cheek, cupping her face as if she were the most precious, tender thing in the world.

Kieran tilted his head toward her. She parted her lips slightly, wondering if his mouth was going to demand everything from hers again, the way it had the night before at the Wheelhouse. But instead of kissing her, he brought his lips to her temple. The delicate touch had her shivering.

“You will die if you wear that,” he murmured against her skin. His finger, still hooked through the belt loop of her shorts, tugged again. His torso pressed against hers.

She inhaled the smell of him—leather and pine and clean cotton—and the scent cut right to her heart. She could be with a hundred men, she thought, and none of them would smell this perfect.

“You cannot ride a motorcycle like that. I need you to change.”

Audrey pulled back, suddenly grasping what he was saying. “My outfit is dangerous?”

“That outfit is very, very dangerous,” he said, his eyes on her chest. “You need to change.”

“Into what?”

Panties only. A negligée. Nothing.

If he’d said any of these things, Audrey wondered if she would do it. Instead, Kieran removed his hands from her and straightened, putting space between them. Audrey hated the additional inches of nothingness.

“What you wore before when you rode with me.”

The mention of the past had Audrey’s muscles trembling. “That was a long time ago. You’d better be specific.”

“Jeans. Boots if you have them, no laces. Wear a long-sleeved T-shirt. And a jacket over that if you have one.”

Audrey didn’t like the directive. It might have been fine for her five years ago, but now it sounded like the only thing missing was a chastity belt and a habit. She wondered suddenly about all the pictures she saw at the Harley dealership, of women in bikinis on the backs of bikes. The dealership was giving women mixed signals. They were supposed to be sexy when they rode, but sexy wasn’t necessarily safe.

“Are you sure about this?”

“You can’t go on a bike with bare skin showing. If we take a tumble, your skin will get scraped off like—well, just trust me. This is safer.” Kieran reached out and twined a lock of her hair in his fingers. He was unbearably gentle. “I’m sorry I laughed,” he said quietly, his eyes locking on hers. “It came out wrong. I want you to be safe. That’s all.”

Audrey nodded. “Sure. I unders—”

His gaze intensified. “Let me be clear. If we have another date, I want you to wear what you have on right now.
Exactly
that. Okay?”

Audrey nodded, though she already knew there wouldn’t be any more dates. Kieran didn’t date women.

Something inside her plummeted at the thought, but she ignored it. If all she had with him was today—
one day
—that was enough. She wasn’t going to let herself get attached again. She’d take what she wanted, what she needed, and let that be enough.

“Be right back,” she said, forcing a smile.

She could feel Kieran’s eyes on her—the pressure of those green waves against her heart—as she walked to her bedroom and closed the door softly.

C
HAPTER
FOURTEEN

W
hen Audrey was clad in what felt like enough layers to ride a motorcycle in Antarctica, she and Kieran exited her front door and made their way down the short walk to his gleaming bike.

From afar, his looked like any number of other motorcycles in the dealership showroom. But up close, Audrey found herself faltering as she stared at the bike’s exquisite details—minutiae she’d buried from five years ago, but which were now laid out before her, a reminder of the first time she’d seen this bike. The first time she’d seen Kieran, for that matter.

There was the way, for example, Kieran still hung his sunglasses crookedly from the brake stem. Or the way the deep blood red of the cycle’s fenders and body glittered in the sunlight. She’d believed at one point that the color must have matched that of her heart, when it beat inside her chest for Kieran. The leather was soft and well maintained, but it still sported a series of small creases. Like a thumbprint, she’d once thought: a specific mark that Kieran’s body had left on the rich material. And her body had left its mark on the material, too. She’d ridden this bike as well, her arms clutched around Kieran’s waist, her head inches from his broad shoulders. The wind had taken her breath away, the speed had thrilled her senses. Being with Kieran had given her a rush she hadn’t come close to since.

The bike was like a living memory—a scrapbook on two wheels—and she was having a hard time turning the pages without feeling overwhelmed. By the past, by the present—by all of it. She reached out and grasped the leather grip on the end of one handlebar to steady herself.

“You all right?” Kieran asked, studying her closely.

“Yes, fine,” Audrey answered, stretching her lips in what she hoped was a convincing smile and not an awkward leer.

Reaching into a saddlebag, Kieran pulled out a second helmet and handed it to her. “Safety first.”

Audrey took it without complaint. She’d only recently discovered that plenty of Harley riders who came into the dealership refused to wear helmets, but Kieran had always made it a priority.

“How come you wear a helmet when so many other riders don’t?” she asked, fastening the nylon strap under her chin.

Kieran turned over his black helmet thoughtfully. “I suppose it’s because a good gambler knows when the pot is too rich. I could play the odds, but even if I lose once, that’s potentially losing everything. A limb. Some skin. Part of my brain. It just seems like an awfully steep payment.”

Audrey smiled at the metaphor. “That’s good logic. Too bad I never figured you for a gambler.”

She said it lightly, teasingly, but something in those words had Kieran’s face darkening. “There’s a lot about me you don’t know.”

Audrey blinked at the sharp note in his voice. The words sliced through her. He was right, of course. She didn’t know nearly as much about him as she wanted to, because he hadn’t given her the chance. He’d left. And now she was playing at the dangerous game of believing she didn’t need to know him. That she could simply want him for his body. For some fun.

Kieran shoved the helmet onto his head and mounted the motorcycle, revving it to life. She climbed on behind him, thinking it was fine by her if Kieran wanted to have secrets. There was plenty he didn’t know about her, thank you very much.

She was going to learn to ride this hunk of rubber and steel and chrome and that was going to be the end of it. No melancholic memories. No significant sentiments. It was going to be a blast—pure and simple.

Out of the corner of her eye, Audrey caught the slow movement of a dark vehicle at the end of the street, and it reminded her of her promise from earlier.

“Hey,” she said, ignoring the way her thighs grazed Kieran’s hips, and how her hands slid neatly around his waist, “I need to take a detour with you. Can you drive me over to a student’s house?”

Kieran nodded, and she pointed the way there. The Harley rumbled to life beneath her as they took off, and for a moment it was impossible to tell where her own tremors ended and the machine’s powerful vibrations began.

*  *  *

Kieran silenced the engine and tried not to think about the way Audrey’s body slid against his as she climbed off the bike. Her curves were still evident, even through all the layers of clothing. And her smell—clean vanilla and detergent—reached him in unexpected moments, unsettling him. She would move her arm, or turn her head, and there it would be. He wanted to bury his face in that smell, to pull her toward him and inhale the sweetest parts of her, but he wouldn’t. He’d vowed that nothing could happen until she knew the truth. She deserved that. And, dammit, she deserved a date, too—a real outing where she was doted on and cherished, and he’d give her that as well, come hell or high water.

She pulled her helmet off and shook out her glossy hair. The bright afternoon light lit it like a halo, and his chest tightened. The sight reminded him keenly that she was an angel, and he was among the fallen. A sinner with a past who didn’t deserve her.

Kieran set the kickstand and helped Audrey off the bike. “Whose house is this?” he asked.

“A student from the track team, Alexis Belten,” Audrey answered. Concern created a little wrinkle between her brows, and Kieran wanted to place his thumb on the crease. He would smudge it away if he could, then kiss the tender skin there, easing her worry.

“Everything okay?” he asked instead.

Audrey shook her head no. “This morning her boyfriend, Hunter Haglund, followed her on our run. She says he’s been stalking her. I think she needs help.”

Kieran’s body heated with protective concern. “You were there? Did he hurt anyone?”

“No,” Audrey said, her eyes darting nervously to the small white house with black shutters. “Everyone was fine, but this kid is a dark horse. I can’t tell if he’s just mixed up or if he’s actually bad news. Either way, I want to help Alexis to think about her options.”

Before she could walk to the front door, Kieran caught her arm. She looked down at his hand, at the way his fingers wrapped around the many layers of clothing she was wearing, but she didn’t pull away. She had never pulled away, he realized, even when others did. Five years ago, if he hadn’t forced her to release her grasp on him, she might never have pulled away at all. The thought made his muscles ache.