Loving Me, Trusting You (13 page)

“You gonna be alright with a piece of plastic there, honey pie?”

“Call me honey pie again and I'll cut your nuts off while you're sleeping.” I pause next to the counter and watch as one of the salesmen walks quickly towards our little group. Amy is looking around with a glint in her eye that tells me she's not going to be gracing the back of Austin's bike forever. I guess I have to cut the kid some slack. I might hate her guts, but at least she has some to spare. Christy looks like a damn deer in the headlights. She's taking in the motorcycles like they're monsters, ready to spring out and assault her at any moment. I haven't asked yet, but I hope nothing happened with Bested by Crows and her in that back room. I suppose at some point I'll find out, but I can't deal with that at the moment. Right now, this is all about seeing the best this shit hole has to offer.

“Don't try to sell me something,” I tell the man in the suit, the one that doesn't even look like he's ever climbed onto a damn bike.
Madre mia,
this is not going to be easy. “I'm walking out of here with something that's ready to ride. I want the keys, today, right now.” The man opens his mouth to speak and I cut him off with a raised hand, rings glittering in the late afternoon light. He pauses and nods his head, ever the salesman, trying his best to smile at me.

“Certainly. Just let me know if you'd like to take something for a test drive.” He backs away slowly, like we might be dangerous, might be there just to whoop his ass and carve our names into his backside, and turns away to busy himself at the counter, eyes flicking up every now and then to take us in.

“Back country piece of shit,” Gaine mumbles, tucking his hands into his front pockets and glancing around with a slight quirk of disdain playing about his lips. “Bet he doesn't know a Kawasaki from a Harley.” I try not to smile, but I do anyway and spin on my heel, so Gaine can't see. No point in getting his hopes up. He's fun to be around, sure, but that's because he's young and stupid, and there are no strings attached. I imagine that if I fell onto his lure, I'd drown in that love. A pretty death, sure, but a death nonetheless, a sacrifice of the
self
for the
us.
I'm not ready for that yet. Maybe not ever. Yeah, probably not fucking ever.

“Jesus friggin' Christ,” I murmur as I wind through the gleaming rows of metal and paint, the decorative toys to be parked in garages and cooed over, the ones people like to drive to the supermarket and then right back home for a bubble bath. These babies never get to stretch their wings, never get to wear a badge of pride, covered in slight scratches and dings, gifts from the open road. It's a damn shame. “This isn't going to be easy.”

“Can't imagine that it will be,” Gaine says, glancing over his shoulder and pulling my gaze along with him. Amy's straddling a Suzuki Inazuma and feelin' it up like they're an item. Her blue eyes glitter with the thrill of freedom, sparkling with the knowledge that she is her own boss out here, that the rules of the road are guidelines and that she's welcome to leave whenever she pleases. I stare at her for a moment, take her in, and wrap my hatred around me.
She stole Austin away.
I scowl and turn away, letting myself revel in an emotion that's become much more comfortable to me than simple amusement. I'm not saying that's a good thing; that's just the way it is.

“She's going to fit in a lot better than even I thought,” Gaine says, and I wonder if sometimes he thinks about what's coming out of his damn mouth. I flick hair over my shoulder and stomp down the aisles, the heels of my boots clicking across the over waxed linoleum floor. The thing sparkles so damn much, my eyes are starting to flicker with sun spots. And don't get me wrong, I'm a fan of air conditioning but Lord in Heaven, it must be sixty fucking degrees in here.

I ignore my friend, the one who's desperate to be so much more and keep moving, fingers sliding across gleaming chrome and unblemished leather, wondering if I'm going to be able to find anything here that'll let me salvage some of my dignity.

Gaine follows close behind me, a heated presence in all of this sterile frigidity. It's like a freaking museum in here. I just want to buy a damn bike, not come in my panties at the looks of some pretty statues. I want something that's functional. Is that too much to ask? I keep moving and Gaine stays on my heels. I swear, I can feel the heat of his breath on my neck, his fingers hovering over my hips. When I pause to glare back at him, he's not quite as close as I think.
My imagination then. I haven't been getting laid enough lately.
I turn back around and keep walking, through another doorway and into the next room. I can't see Amy and her friend anymore, but I can hear their soft voices drifting through the quiet building, bouncing off the glass and teasing my ears with girlish whispers. So naïve. So fucking naïve. I almost envy them. Almost. Naivety is great and all, a soft place to lie your head, but that's not the issue. The issue is when reality comes crashing down, tearing you apart and ripping your innocence away, leaving you with nothing but violently shattered pieces. I pause next to a Kawasaki and rest my hand on the seat.

My mind is spinning away, dragging me back to my memories, blinding me with pain and humiliation, tainting me with betrayal. I shut it down before it even gets a chance to start and jump when Gaine lays his fingers on my upper arm, brushing the whorls of his fingertips across my skin.

“You alright?” he whispers, voice soft, understanding. I've told him my story before, my whole story. Don't know why I did it. I must've been
muy loca,
but I spilled my shit, just drenched him with it, and now I'm paying for it with gentle looks and tender caresses. Might seem like a good thing to some people, but to me, it's dangerous as hell. I pull away and roll my shoulders into a shrug.

“Just help me find a Goddamn motorcycle,” I snap at him, taking out my frustration on the one person who really doesn't deserve any of my shit, but who takes it anyway. Willingly even. He follows close behind me and doesn't let up as I push past a curtain and into the smallest of all three showrooms. The floor in here isn't linoleum, just cement, and it's splattered with oil and droplets of discarded paint. In here rests the skeletons of the unfortunate, bikes that didn't make the cut. Most are just here for parts, sitting around in neat rows, missing vital organs and grinning in grimy darkness. I stare them all down, letting my gaze scan along the waste until I come across another row in the back, against the wall. Maybe I'm not supposed to be in here, but I'll be damned if I leave this place without seeing
everything
there is to see. Besides, if they didn't want customers wandering into the service area, they should've locked the damn door.

“You can talk about whatever with me, Mireya. You know that, right?” I roll my eyes and keep moving until I'm stopped in front of … something. I don't know what make or model it used to be. It's just a big jumble of parts now, but the engine looks good and it certainly doesn't look like anything you'd wipe your damn ass with. This isn't a Barbie bike, built for show, and made of plastic. This is solid, metal, old, probably American, definitely custom. I smile. I wonder if it rides?

“Stop being a damn pussy, Gaine. I don't want to have any fucking heart to hearts with you, alright? Go be a fucking faggot somewhere else.” His fingers grasp my bicep firmly, but gently. He's holding tight, but he isn't being rough. He knows better. I can handle men that are rough, but I don't like it. It doesn't feel right. I mean, holding your own is one thing, but you don't have to like it. Gaine knows that.

“If lovin' so hard I can't breathe, can't think straight, can't even fuck another woman, makes me a damn pussy then so be it. Mireya, you're hurting. Old memories are getting stirred up. I can tell. It isn't hard to see that. Don't hold it all back. That's what you've been doing for years, and it isn't helping. You have to talk about it, babe.” I turn to look at him, the smile melting off my mouth and pooling on the dirty floor under my leather boots like oil.

“You don't know shit about shit, Gaine Kelley. Fuck off and leave me alone. I don't want to gossip about past fuck-ups. And I definitely don't want to ride in reverse. I'm going to move forward and railroad Bested by Crows. That'll be my vengeance; that'll be my finality. Words are just words, and I have no use for them.” I jerk my arm back, but Gaine doesn't let go. Instead, he follows, moving against me, pressing me back into the row of metal, so that my jeans brush against tailpipes and tires. The heat of his body overwhelms me, crashing down around my skin like fire, burning away the icy brush of the air conditioning.

“I know you don't like to hear it, and I know you're tough as nails, and I
know
beyond any shadow of a doubt that you can take care of yourself, but Goddamn it, Sawyer, if you're not stubborn as all get out. Sometimes, you have to talk about something to get it off your chest. I can see it sitting there, the biggest damn elephant in the room. You're hurt, lover. I can see it plain as day.” He slides his hand up my arm and touches his fingers to the base of my neck, sending thrills of pleasure down my spine. Velvety heat envelops me again, whispers false promises in my ear. Never before have I wanted to throw myself into somebody's arms. And I don't like it. My mouth twists into a scowl, but before I can get any words out, Gaine's kissing me like he's afraid he's going to lose me. I don't know how that's possible since the fucker doesn't even have me yet, but he does it, somehow, someway … I reach out and grab his leather jacket by the lapels, yanking him against me. I mean to push him back and then sock him in the face, but I don't quite get there. Instead, that heat and desire and desperation to be wanted as much as I want, fills me, consumes me and then spits me back out into the world, cold and wanting. I let go of his jacket and slide my arms beneath the leather, holding Gaine tight while he teases me with his lips, pressing barely there kisses against my mouth, avoiding the tangle of my tongue with his. He keeps it strictly mouth to mouth, less vulgar, more intimate somehow. I don't quite know what to think.

“Mireya?” It's Amy's voice, flitting through the curtain into this quiet darkness. It smells like oil and gasoline, rusted metal and cracked leather. Maybe that's why I'm so intoxicated? I stare past Gaine's shuttered lips and watch as she moves into the room, pausing when she sees us. Her small mouth turns into a perfect, little 'O' and she reaches back to stop her friend from following after her. “They're not here,” she says instead, and then in a swirl of floral skirts, turns away and disappears again. Somehow, it seems she knows what I need even more than I do. Uppity, little bitch.

Gaine's fingers tighten slowly but surely, weaving into my hair and holding me still while he savors me, opening up a bit, letting me in, so that I can brush my tongue against his. We kiss slow and sensual, sizzling. I want to take the next step, but I don't, waiting for him to move first. He doesn't. He just keeps kissing, holding me like he's never going to let go, trapping me between old metal and uncertainty.

When I hear movement outside the curtain, I try to pull away, but he keeps us still, trapped between one heartbeat and the next.

“Mireya.” The word is whispered against my mouth, spreading the wetness between my thighs. When Gaine drops his hand down and slides it under my shirt, I groan against his lips. “No matter what you say or do, or hell, no matter you
don't
say or
don't
do, I'm here for you. Got it? And it ain't because I'm a pussy. It's because I love the hell out of you, and I'm not willing to watch you fall by the wayside, bitter and broken. What happened then doesn't mean shit now. Yeah, I think you should talk about it, and I sure as shit think they should pay for it. But … ” He trails off and lets go of my hair to unbutton my jeans. His hand moves lower, into my panties, cupping my heat tight and then slipping a single finger into the moistness. “It.” He thrusts hard, slamming his knuckles against my pussy. “Doesn't.” Gaine slides his finger out slowly. “Define.” A second finger joins the first, filling me up and making me gasp.
Jesús santo.
“You.” Gaine curls his hand just right, hitting my G-spot and knocking my feet out from under me. The only thing that keeps me standing is his arm around my waist, burning a line alone the bare skin where my shirt rides up. He kisses my open mouth again and holds me there while he plays along my insides, brushing and sliding and thrusting, sending flutters through my belly.

Words filter in through the curtain, and I'm fairly certain I hear Amy's voice asking about gas mileage or something else as equally unimportant. I get that she's trying to help me, I do. She's leaving me alone here, with Gaine, in a garage in the middle of nowhere. Maybe she's hoping I'll find myself? That I'll have some revelation or something the way she did, something so powerful that I'll drop everything and start fresh, leave my old life behind and find something new. Who the hell cares. Right now, I can't even think. All I'm worrying about is how long this pleasure is going to last before there's pain again, how far I'll go before the cycle of hurt starts anew.

I want to tell Gaine to step off and fuck off, but I can't speak anymore. My orgasm is sneaking up on me, coming from places low, settling deep and getting ready to explode from within. I gasp, breaking away from Gaine's lips, letting my noises sift through the quiet air. From outside the room, the voices get louder and then quiet away again.

“Do you want me?” Gaine asks. The question is simple
and
complex. I don't like it. It scares the shit out of me.

“How so?” I manage to grind out, narrowing my eyes on him, listening to the slick slide of his fingers inside of me as he teases the life from my body and leaves me limp in his arms. The only comfort here is knowing that if I grabbed his dick in my hands, that he'd drop to his fucking knees. “If you're asking if I want to fuck then sure. Otherwise, you know the answer to that question.” Gaine frowns and pulls his hand away, pausing to spread his fingers apart and examine the shining wetness on his skin. I'm not ashamed. I fall back when he drops his arm, just a little and end up sitting on the ride I was admiring earlier, the one I'm going to buy, the
only
one in the store worth buying.