Speed King (Men of Action)

by Ahren Sanders

  Of course, he heard me. I decide the sofa is the least of my worries and take a deep breath to calm my racing nerves.

  “You’re an adult, Harley. Act like it. Be natural, not too eager, not too distant. No matter what happens.” I pep myself up on the way to answer.

  “Good mor—” The rest of the word lodges in my throat when I come face to face with what can only be described as anguish.

  He tugs me gently into his arms, crushing me to his hard body, lifting me off the ground, and stepping inside. There is no choice but to hold tight as I hear the door shut. “I know you told me not to show up unannounced, but I couldn’t stay away. I’m an asshole. I shouldn’t have said the things I did.” He buries his face in my neck. His voice is a combination of desperation and regret that pierces me so deep my eyes sting.

  “Achilles.” My arms circle his shoulders, and my face tilts to his. Once again, words fail me at his tortured expression.

  “If you need me to apologize, I will,” he offers unconvincingly.

  “Are you sorry?”

  “I’m sorry for upsetting you.”

  “What about the rest?”

  He glances over my shoulder, the answer easy to read. I place my hand to his jaw, bringing his gaze back to mine. “Are you sorry?”

  His eyes slowly close, and when they open, they’re filled with guilt, telling me all I need to know.

  “You can’t dictate my life. If you care about me, trust and know I can take care of myself. This isn’t only about working at Tom’s; this is with everything.”

  “When it comes to you, I’m fiercely protective. That will never change. I’ve seen the way men look at you, the way they crave your attention, thinking they have a shot. Knowing that they go home with a fucking hard on and jack off to the image of you is enough to set me on edge. I can’t promise to back off.”

  “Do you trust me?”

  He nods.

  “Do you care about me, Achilles?”

  The storm in his eyes softens, and he clenches his arms around my waist. “You are my everything.” The honesty in his voice rocks me to my core.

  You are my everything.

  Those four words set my pulse racing and my body melting at the same time. The same words I used to describe him to Jewls.

  The last two days of confusion, anger, and internal turmoil go up in smoke, and I’m left with a feeling unlike I’ve ever imagined. “Then the rest we’ll take in baby steps,” I tell him softly.

  He slides one hand up my back, along my neck, and threads his fingers in the base of my hairline, caressing gently. “Harley, I gave this up for over ten years. If I come on a little strong, cut me some slack.”

  “I’ll get used to it.”

  At the use of his phrase, the intensity finally seeps out of his body. “Yeah, you’ll get used to it.”

  “It may not always be easy.”

  “I’m not going through the last two days again.”

  “Are you saying you learned a lesson?”

  The side of his mouth twitches right before he flashes me a playful grin. “I’m saying I’ll never watch you walk away from me again.”

  I decide to let that go and focus on something more important. I lift on my toes and sweep my lips across his. “What do you mean you gave this up for over ten years?”

  “We’ll talk about it tonight.”

  There’s no way I’m leaving this apartment without an explanation. The last few days, I’ve spent too much time thinking about what Jewls said regarding overlooking important subjects because I was lost in the moments. If there’s any chance of us making this work, I have to know and understand the man Achilles has become.

  “I think we should talk about it now.”

  “Right now, I need to take you to work.”

  I step away and grab my phone, shooting off a quick email. “I’m working from home today.”

  “Didn’t know that was an option.”

  “There are some perks to my job. And today, I’m taking advantage of one of them.”

  “You sure?”

  “Yes. Do you still keep a bag in your truck with extra clothes?”

  He nods.

  “And do you still have the night off?”

  “I do.”

  “How would you feel about hanging out here today? I need to work some, but you could rest, and then maybe we could do lunch?”

  He grins and brings his forehead to mine, his eyes melting into the amber hue I love so much. “I do owe you lunch.”

  9

  Ace

  My eyes slowly open at the sound of Harley laughing from the other room. I check my watch and see four hours have passed since I laid down. “Shit,” I grumble, scrubbing my hands over my face and swinging my legs to the floor. Exhaustion weighs on me, but I force myself to stand, grab my bag, and go to her bathroom.

  This was the first actual sleep I’ve gotten since Saturday night when Harley was with me. My body is conditioned to schedule changes, and I can get by on little sleep, but the last few days it’s been useless. My mind wouldn’t shut down, and the image of her walking away is branded into my memory.

  I smirk at the stack of purple towels laid out for me on the counter. Her shower is significantly smaller than mine, and it takes a bit for me to get situated. The hot water beats down on my back and shoulders, easing the tension away. I relax for the first time in days. The scent of her fills with the surrounding steam, and my dick grows hard instantly.

  Fuck! Don’t be a fucking tool, Ace. Get your shit together.

  I turn into the water, trying to ignore the throbbing in my cock as I wash my hair. There’s a knock at the door, followed by a muffled voice.

  “Come in.”

  “Checking to see if you have everything you need.”

  “I got it.”

  “I forgot to leave you a washcloth,” she says right as a cloth sails over the curtain rod and lands on my shoulder. “Although I’m sure you’re a wash your body with your hands type of guy.”

  I poke my head around the curtain and find her propped against the sink, staring at the shower. “You’d be right. But today, I may break tradition just to say I’ve used a purple cloth.”

  “You know there are other colors of the color wheel besides black, white, and grey.”

  “I’m learning that, seeing as your soap is pink. I didn’t even know they made fucking pink soap.”

  “Stick with me and I’ll teach you about the colors of the rainbow.”

  “Looking forward to it.”

  She smiles at me, and my eyes fall to the faded USMC lettering on her shirt. Actually, it’s my shirt, hanging mid-thigh and revealing her bare legs. She’s changed out of her dress. Everything about the sight sends my blood south. My already hard cock lurches, bouncing against my stomach. When my gaze moves back to her face, she’s staring at me expectantly.

  “Hope you don’t mind. You were resting peacefully. Instead of rummaging through my drawers and risking waking you, I grabbed it out of your bag.”

  “Looks a fuck of a lot better on you.”

  “I’m thinking of stealing it.”

  “You want it, it’s yours.”

  “I was hoping you’d say that.” There’s a flicker in her eyes that quickly grows heated. She takes a hesitant step forward, closing the space between us, then traces her finger along the lines of the tattoo on my bicep.

  “Harley, babe, I think you better move back.” My self-control is slipping.

  “I should, but I can’t help it.” She leans in, brushing her lips across mine. “Is that bad?”

  “Babe, you’re testing my self-restraint.”

  She grins against my mouth. “Testing it how? Maybe I’m trying to show my appreciation for the shirt.”

  My blood pumps harder when the tip of her tongue trails my bottom lip, teasing back and forth. The familiar desire and need for her races through my veins, and I roughly growl, “fuck it,” before shutting off the water. My arm shoots to he
r waist, lifting her over the side of the tub and twisting her against the shower wall. Her legs automatically link around my waist, and her elbows brace on my shoulders as my mouth crashes to hers.

  There’s nothing slow and sweet about the kiss as my tongue dives inside, demanding control. She lets out a small moan, wrapping her body tight and grinding her hips downward. The feel of silky satin material sliding along the tip of my cock ignites a ravenous hunger to be inside her. My hands go to her thighs, slipping up the shirt until they come into contact with the bare skin of her ass. Her muscles flex against my palms as she rocks down again.

  I temporarily lose my mind, groaning down her throat and surging upward to feel every bit of her along my dick. Her head angles to the side, deepening the kiss. My hips thrust twice more until she rips her mouth from mine and pants against my lips. Signals fire off in my brain to shut this down before I go too far.

  My hips freeze, my head drops to her throat, and I clutch her ass to stop her movements. “Babe, we have to stop.”

  Her pulse races against my cheek as my own beats wildly in my chest. “Are you okay?” she rasps huskily.

  I glance up and my heart races for a new reason. Her face is flushed, her lips swollen, and her blue eyes shining so brightly they’re blinding. “Jesus, Harley, you’re so fucking gorgeous it hurts.”

  She smiles and asks shyly, “So, I didn’t hurt you?”

  “How the hell would you hurt me?”

  “When you stopped, I thought maybe I’d done something painful.”

  “No, babe, nothing you did hurt me.”

  We continue to stare at each other, the air around us sizzling with the heat of our bodies attached. “I should give you some privacy to finish your shower.” Her grin grows wicked as she unlatches her legs and slides down my body.

  I hiss when she intentionally scrapes along my cock and rubs her chest against mine. She bends to the side, the shirt riding up enough to expose the cheeks of her ass as she picks up the washcloth. I cross my arms and force myself to remain still as her eyes travel over my body and bulge when they land on my cock.

  “Oh my God, is that….”

  “Yeah, baby, my dick is pierced.”

  She licks her lips, and my cock twitches, pulsing painfully against my stomach. “You may need this washcloth after all.”

  Her voice is low and thick with intention, taking me close to the edge that I snap, reaching out and hauling her back to me. “You’re playing with fire, Harley.”

  “Maybe a little temptation is a good thing.”

  “Get out of the shower. I’m warning you now.”

  “I’ll meet you in the kitchen.” She scrapes her nails across my abdomen as she steps out and flashes me a triumphant smile, backing out of the bathroom.

  I watch the door for a few seconds, red-hot sensations scorching through my veins. The last few minutes roll through my head and my dick throbs.

  “Goddammit,” I mutter under my breath, twisting the faucet, and yanking the curtain closed. The cool water does nothing to my overheated skin as I grab myself and stroke.

  She did this on purpose. Just when I thought the woman couldn’t get anymore perfect, she showed me she is full of surprises. An idea comes to mind as I grip harder and speed my movements. She’s going to pay for this one day, and I’ll enjoy teaching her exactly how it feels to be teased.

  I lean against the doorway and watch her flit around her kitchen, oblivious to my presence. She cracks eggs into a large bowl, cursing under her breath and leaning over to scrape what I assume is shell out of the mixture. The shirt rides up, exposing enough skin for me to know she still isn’t wearing shorts over the scrap of silky panties. Dirty thoughts flood my head, and the image of her laid out on her counter comes to mind. I adjust myself in my shorts and softly clear my throat. She twists at the sounds of me moving, her lips sliding upward as her gaze lands on my bare chest. “I like,” is all she says.

  “Seems I lost my shirt.”

  “I think you may have given it to me.”

  I go to her, placing my hands on her hipbones and kissing her temple. “What are you making?”

  She sinks into me, tipping the bowl forward. “Omelets.”

  There are half a dozen eggs in the bowl and slivers of shell mixed throughout. I bite my lip to keep quiet, but she catches on, jabbing me in the gut. “Go ahead and laugh. I’m not the best at actually cracking the eggs. I usually boil them.”

  “Do you even know how to make omelets?”

  “Is it hard? I assumed it was a little whisking, some easy ingredients, and voilà!” She snaps her fingers.

  I can’t stop the bark of laughter. Harley has never been a cook. There are a few things she mastered in her teens, and as far as I know, her skills never improved.

  “Make fun. Once I get these shells out, I’ll blow your mind with my culinary technique.” She wiggles away, reaching for the carton. “Maybe I should start over.”

  “Let me.” I intercept her hand, turn her toward me, and sit her up on the empty counter space. I go through her cabinets and drawers, gathering what I need, and begin extracting the shells.

  “You’re good around the kitchen.”

  “I’ve learned a few things through the years.”

  “Maybe you can help teach me.”

  “Maybe,” I mutter half-heartedly, hiding my amusement.

  “That didn’t sound convincing,” she huffs.

  “If you don’t know how to cook omelets, why try today? I would have picked something up.”

  “Because I wanted to do something nice for you on your day off. Since I’m never here for lunch, all I have is breakfast food, frozen meals, and a few snacks. You seem to like protein. I figured an omelet was better than a frozen pizza. People eat omelets for lunch, right?”

  My chest seizes at the simplicity of her explanation. Memories of the screwed-up teenage rebellious loner and the pure beauty that befriended him slam into me. There aren’t many people on this earth who have ever given a shit about me.

  “Hey.” A soft hand runs along my cheek, and I turn to see her eyes filled with concern. “What’s wrong?”

  “You’re one of the few people who has ever given a shit about me. The Marines gave me a family I never had, but until them, it was you.”

  The concern in her eyes swells with pain, and the air between us takes on a new mood. I recognize my mistake immediately, catching the hesitation before she asks, “Then why’d you shut me out?”

  There’s a brief second I think about lying to her, but I can’t do it. I drop the items in my hands and move in between her legs, scooting her closer to me. “Because I was a piece of shit that didn’t deserve you.”

  Fire flames in her expression, and she opens her mouth to argue before I place my finger to her lips. “I was, Harley. I was an eighteen-year-old punk filled with rage and anger. My dad was a drunk who wasn’t fit to hold down a job, and my mom was an enabler trying to keep her job as a teacher to where we could have food on the table. She depended on me to do the right thing, and pulling my dad’s ass out of bars got him home before he could cause too much trouble.”

  “None of that was your fault. You are not your parents. We talked about this many times.”

  “You don’t understand. I kept a lot from you. It wasn’t fair to drag you through the ugly side of my existence.”

  “I wouldn’t have cared,” she whispers so sweetly, my chest constricts.

  “I know. That’s why I had to leave the way I did. Your dad saved me.”

  She stiffens at the mention of Rich. “My dad did what? I think you should explain that.”

  “April of my senior year, Mom got a call from a bar downtown where Dad was on a bender. By the time I got to him, he’d started a fight with three mean bastards. I walked up to him, getting the shit kicked out of him, and even though he probably deserved it, I had to jump in and help. I was young, fit, and much faster than those guys. Not to mention they were loaded as well. It wa
s a tough fight, but I got them down. By then, the cops had arrived, and lucky for me, Mom had called Rich. One guy on the ground was fighting for his life because my kick to his chest punctured a lung. They rushed him to the hospital, and I was responsible.

  “Rich was furious with me for not calling him, but he got my ass out of a sling and I wasn’t arrested. He asked me that night what I wanted out of life—what kind of future I could have with a criminal record. My answer was immediate; I wanted to be a Marine. The next day, he drove me to the recruiter’s office, explained my situation, and I committed. As soon as I knew I passed high school, I shipped out.”

  “Why didn’t he tell me?”

  “Because I made him a promise, and in return, he did the same.”

  Understanding washes over her features, and the blazing flames in her eyes scorch right to my soul. “You promised to stay away from me… you broke my heart for my dad.”

  “I didn’t break your heart for your dad.”

  “You did!” she yells, shoving at my shoulders with all her strength. I’m caught off guard, stumbling back enough for her to hop down and shuffle out of my reach. “How dare you? How dare he? I cried for months. My mom thought I needed counseling! They fought at night over me, and I thought it was because I was heartbroken, but now I understand it clearly. My mom was pissed. She wanted me to know so I could love you without the pain. You kept it from me! How could you? Did you think that little of me? The simple, silly, innocent young girl who couldn’t handle the truth?”

  She’s pacing the floor, ripping pins out of hair and flinging them around the room, her face blistering. When she pins me with her glare, I struggle to find my breath. Injured anger, disbelief, and pure, unfiltered rage roll off her. She’s looking at me with such betrayal, fear seeps into my bones.

  “You didn’t trust me?” Her question spears me, and there’s no turning back now.

  “I made a promise to become a better man before I came back for you.”

  “A promise to who!”

  “To your dad, but mostly to me.”

  She looks away, tossing the rest of the pins in her hand to the ground, and stomps out of the kitchen. I blow out a breath and wonder how many times I can fuck up with this woman before she finally kicks my ass out of her life.