Embracing Reckless

by Melanie Shawn

  “Yeah. And us meeting like that. That’s weirding me out a little, too. What’re the chances?”

  He nodded. “OK, I’ve given this some thought. It’s actually not that out of the question when you break it down.”

  “Oh, then, please break it down. Because I’d really love something to hold onto with this.”

  “Okay, so first—we were both headed to the same place. For obvious reasons, we now know. But, starting with that premise, it’s not so strange to think that we’d be on the same road, heading the same direction.”

  “Great. I’m with you so far.”

  “So, if we’d both just been traveling, constantly moving, then, sure. That would drastically lower our chances of meeting. But that’s not what happened. Your car broke down. The fact that you were stopped and I was in motion drastically raised our chances of running into each other.”

  “Ah…yeah, makes sense.”

  “Then, add to that the fact that a broken-down car is basically a distress signal, and me being the kind of guy I am, I’ll always answer one of those. Particularly from a gorgeous girl. And then it becomes practically inevitable that we meet.”

  “You’re a genius,” I grinned.

  “I’ll be honest with you, Brandy,” he said with exaggerated gravity. “You’re not the first person to tell me that. I kind of doubt you’ll be the last.”

  I laughed and punched his arm. “Okay, Einstein. So, what’s option two?”

  “Option two?”

  My eyes twinkled with amusement. “Oh, so the man who gets labeled a genius not just occasionally but on the reg can’t remember that far back in the conversation? Option one for traveling back to Arcata was sitting in the backseat with Stuart and Janine, family-vacation style. What’s option two?”

  “Ah, right. Option two is that we leave those two to their own devices, playing the license plate game and slug bug all the way down to Arcata, and I pick you up tomorrow morning on my bike.”

  I leaned up and kissed him, slow and sweet. “I like option two. I just have one question.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Why would you need to come pick me up tomorrow morning when you’re already going to be here?”

  Chapter 22

  Clay

  Kissing Brandy was the sweetest torture. As perfect as it felt in and of itself, it also inspired a desire in me that had to be satisfied. It created a burning urge to move things faster and further. The only way to put out that fire was to follow the path that it dictated, all the way to the explosive end.

  “God, I want you. I want you so much,” I groaned.

  She stepped back, breathless, and studied my face for a moment, then ran her fingertips over my jaw line.

  I loved her eyes when she got serious and contemplative. They were always beautiful, but when she thought hard about something, shades and nuances flickered in them that let me know there was a whole world going on below the surface that I could only ever glimpse and guess at.

  It was sexy. Sexy as hell.

  “I want you, too,” she purred. Then, a smile brightened her face and all of the sense of melancholy disappeared, like clouds under the power of the sun’s morning rays.

  “I have an idea!”

  When she said it, she actually put one finger in the air, as if she were a cartoon character pointing at the lightbulb that had just been animated above her head. I smiled. Damn, if she wasn’t the cutest thing I’d ever seen. “What’s your idea?”

  She waggled her eyebrows. “Let’s take a shower.”

  “Wow, I like your ideas. You should have bright ideas occur to you more often. Especially if they involve nakedness. And steam. And water. Actually, the last two are optional. Let’s just stick with nakedness.”

  She giggled and then turned and ran toward the bathroom, stripping off her clothes piece by piece as she went.

  I sat on the bed and leaned down to unlace my motorcycle boots. “No fair, wait for me!” I yelled playfully.

  “Nope! You snooze, you lose!”

  I stripped off my clothes as I walked toward the bathroom, making sure that I pulled a condom out of the pocket of my jeans as I shed them so that I could set it down on the counter outside the shower.

  I heard the water turn on just before I walked in, and as I crossed the doorway, I saw Brandy standing in front of me, her naked body and tanned skin glorious against the white tile of the shower unit.

  I stopped in my tracks, struck still by the sight of her. “Well, if that’s what you call losing, then sign me up. You can win every time.”

  She laughed and turned, stepping into the shower and under the spray. She leaned her head back under the steaming water, letting it stream over her head and body. It plastered her silky hair to her head, turning it from a light golden blonde to a deep wheat color. It didn’t matter. It was every bit as beautiful wet as it was dry.

  Hell, everything about Brandy was beautiful, in every circumstance. I couldn’t imagine that ever not being true.

  I took a moment to just watch her. There were so few chances to just fix my eyes on her beautiful face, to notice every tiny change in her expression, every small movement of her hands and body. To appreciate her like a fine piece of art. Which, she was.

  But, finally my dick got tired of my eyes having all the fun, and it made it impossible for me to stand outside the shower and simply appreciate her body anymore. I had to climb in with her and touch her. Everywhere. I had no choice.

  I stood in the shower stall, about a foot away from Brandy, and then reached out and took her hand. I pulled her toward me, out of the direct line of the spray. Every inch of her skin was glistening with water, which then started to bead up.

  I ducked my head and started licking individual drops of water from her skin. She moaned and tangled her fingers in my hair.

  I started innocently enough. Her neck. Her shoulders. The top of her chest.

  But then I couldn’t help myself. That fire was growing in my belly, and I had to go further and faster.

  I didn’t lap up the drops one by one anymore. I moved my tongue in a wide swipe down the side of her breast, all the way to her nipple, which I then sucked into my mouth and swirled with my tongue.

  I slid my hand up her hip and side until it cupped the other breast and I rolled that nipple in between my thumb and forefinger.

  She whimpered and trembled under my touch, and it turned me on so much to know that I’d actually made her weak with desire. I slid my free hand down her wet, slick belly until I found the even wetter and even slicker spot between her legs.

  I spread her lips with my fingers, rubbing up and down and coating her with her own juices. I slid two fingers inside of her and rotated my thumb over her clit, matching the rhythm to the one that my other hand was creating on her nipple.

  She threw her head back, her fingers twisting almost painfully in my hair as she let out a rough, guttural moan.

  She ripped my head up, away from her nipple, and looked fervently into my eyes. “This isn’t enough. It feels good, but it’s not enough. I need you inside me. Now. Please.”

  I’d never thought it was gentlemanly to make a woman beg. I wouldn’t make Brandy ask me twice.

  Keeping my grip firm on her hip, I spun her around and slid my arm around her waist so that she wouldn’t slip on the slick shower floor. I reached outside the shower to grab the condom I’d placed there for just this moment and ripped the package open with my teeth. Then, in one smooth movement, I rolled it down my engorged shaft with two fingers from my free hand.

  With that, I positioned myself at her entrance. “Are you ready?” I asked, wanting to make sure one last time before I thrust myself inside her.

  “More than ready,” she groaned.

  I plunged into her, and as hot as the steam was that surrounded us inside the shower, she was ten times hotter inside as she squeezed her inner walls down on my hard dick.

  “Fuck,” I groaned.

  “Yes,”
she encouraged me, and I took the suggestion, pounding her again and again, harder and harder, until my strong arm around her waist was the only thing keeping her from crumbling to the wet tile floor.

  When I could sense that we were both right on the edge, I slid my hand down between her legs and flicked her hard pleasure button over and over, keeping time with my thrusts.

  I felt the orgasm starting inside her before there were even any outward indications of it. Her inner walls clamped around me with a ferocity that they hadn’t before. With a ferocity, in fact, that I suspected she couldn’t even exercise at will. I thought that it was probably something that only happened involuntarily, when she was coming.

  She trembled and cried out, and I released myself into her. The waves of pleasure crashed over us again and again, so much that I thought they might never stop coming.

  When they finally did slow and then stop, she pulled away from me, straightened up, and turned around. Her face was flushed, whether from the heat or from pleasure, or a combination of both. She gave me a mischievous smile and said, “Hey. Will you do me a favor?”

  “Anything. What do you need?”

  She held out the small, hotel-sized container of shower gel and I took it from her.

  “Wash my back?”

  Looked like round two was game on.

  Chapter 23

  Brandy

  Even though I’d swung my leg over the seat of a bike for the first time not long ago at all, everything about riding behind Clay on his Harley already felt natural. My body had absorbed it into muscle memory, to the point that it seemed like home.

  In fact, even after only these last couple of days, it was strange to think about a time before this—where I didn’t yet know the combination of thrill and safety that filled me every time I got my arms around Clay from behind and the bike sprang to life beneath us.

  As we sped down the road back to Arcata, which I’d so recently traveled going the opposite direction, I was filled with just as many questions and insecurities as I had been during the first part of my journey. They were just different questions and different insecurities.

  Instead of wondering whether or not my father was going to be a good person – or if he was even going to be my father at all – now I wondered how Sandy was going to take the news.

  Everything I’d done on this trip, I’d done to protect her, but it was anybody’s guess if she would end up seeing it that way. There was every possibility she’d be furious with me for keeping this news from her, seeing it as selfish and wanting to keep Stuart all to myself instead of share him with her.

  Or, there was also the possibility she’d be so over the moon about having a father that her being pissed about my actions would never come into it. It was impossible to predict with her. That was what made her fun and charming and exciting. But it was also what made it very stressful sometimes to be the sister whose job it was to protect her.

  I wrapped my arms more tightly around Clay’s torso and pressed my chest into his back, reveling in the warmth and solidity of his strong body. I took a deep breath of the mountain air as trees passed in a blur, barely in my field of vision for a moment as we sped by.

  There was a metaphor in that, and it gave me some comfort. Sometimes my crazy complicated life seemed like it was whipping past me at top speed, and it scared me when I tried to control it. So, maybe the answer was just to do exactly what I was doing right now—relax, hold tight to Clay, and enjoy the fucking ride.

  Chapter 24

  Brandy

  Clay brought the motorcycle to a halt in the dirt parking lot of the tiny motel where we’d spent our first night together. I closed my eyes to listen to the air for a moment. I’d grown to love the particular silence that only came immediately after the rumbling roar of the Harley disappeared. It was peaceful in a way I’d never known before. In a way I only realized I’d always been looking for after I found it.

  I climbed down and pulled off my helmet, which was new and cute and bought this morning especially for the trip. I had zero intention of letting Clay go helmet-less for the entire trip back to Arcata, and I knew him well enough to be sure that he’d have zero intention of letting me go unprotected, either. So, solution? Shopping.

  My breath drew in sharply as a pang gripped my stomach. It was the thought of shopping that had done it. It reminded me of Sandy. And thinking of Sandy reminded me of the difficult task that waited for me in Arcata.

  Of course, this time it had been shopping. When we were in the store this morning looking for a helmet before we left, it had been the shade of pink of a T-shirt on one of the mannequins that had reminded me of her. When we’d stopped for coffee, the girl in front of me had placed an order identical to Sandy’s favorite – iced mocha with room for extra cream. Not the most common drink order on the Starbucks menu.

  I didn’t know if this was the universe telling me that I needed to mentally prepare for the conversation with my twin, or if it was just confirmation bias. Since she was so close to the surface in my brain, anyway, I was seeing little reminders of her everywhere simply because my mind was primed to.

  Either way, my stomach had been churning pretty much nonstop for the entire day. It was going to be nice to relax with Clay, sink into his arms and let his calming energy overwhelm me and settle my fears. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, relief flooding me at just the thought of it.

  Clay slung his arm around my shoulders as we walked toward the motel lobby. “Hope somebody’s here this time,” he grinned.

  “No kidding.” As I smiled appreciatively. I loved sharing inside jokes with him. It felt intimate.

  Luckily, a clerk did step out from the small doorway behind the counter at the sound of the chime that was set off by the opening door. He eyed us, disinterest coming off of him in waves. “Help ya?” he asked, his voice flat.

  Clay moved forward, taking out his wallet. “We need a room for one night, please.”

  The clerk gave a slight nod and reached toward the keys that hung from an old-fashioned pegboard attached to the back wall.

  Clay said, “Is there any way that we could have number six?” He shot me a quick smile. “It’s kind of a sentimental thing. Nostalgia.”

  I blushed. I could feel my cheeks heating and knew that my face must be bright red. I tried to get it back under control before the clerk turned around, but when he did, his almost aggressive disinterest had not abated whatsoever. So, I was good.

  He handed Clay the key to the room and Clay gave him a few twenties, then signed the register.

  As we left the lobby and walked toward the room, my hand warm and secure inside of Clay’s, I couldn’t help but smile at the transaction. “I think this is the motel that time forgot. I felt like I was checking into a motel in the fifties back there. I almost thought he was going to ask if we were married or something.”

  Clay laughed. “Did you see what names I signed on the register?”

  When I shook my head, he said, “Mr. and Mrs. Smith.”

  I giggled. “Ah, yes. The classic pseudonyms for when you’re not only trying to hide your identity, but also pretend you’re married in a pop-culture referential joke.”

  “Would’ve been a better joke if you’d have seen it. But, hey. You still laughed. I’ll take it.”

  Clay opened the door to the motel room and gestured for me to walk in ahead of him. As soon as I stepped through the threshold, a sense of déjà vu swept over me. Even though it had only been a couple of days since we’d been in this exact same room, so much had happened in between then and now. So many developments. So many new possibilities. Somehow, it felt like everything in my life was different than the last time I stood in this room – but, when I looked at Clay, it also felt like everything important was the same.

  His face took on a concerned cast. “You look exhausted, Bran.”

  I hadn’t felt tired, at least not consciously, until he said it. But when those words hit my ears, fatigue washed over me like a
tsunami, dragging me down with a swirling power I was helpless to fight. “God, I didn’t think so. But you’re right. I’m wiped out.”

  He wrapped his arms around me and I could feel the concern coming from him in everything from his strong muscles as he held me to the sound of his voice when he spoke. “You hop in the shower. Make it a long one, nice and hot. That’ll do you a world of good, baby. I’m going to head over to the diner and bring us back some dinner. Burger and fries?”

  I looked up into his face, gratitude filling me to the brim. I felt thankful beyond measure for everything that Clay was, everything he meant to me, and everything I clearly meant to him.

  I couldn’t lie, though. I also felt a hell of a lot of gratitude at the thought of that hot water, and then the burgers and fries, too. “Sounds like heaven,” I said.

  He smiled. “Nope. That comes later.”

  Chapter 25

  Brandy

  “God, I was so right. That was heaven,” I sighed as I popped my last french fry into my mouth. The hamburger was long gone.

  Clay and I were sitting up on the bed. He was leaning against the wall and I was leaning against him. I was pretty sure I’d just discovered my new favorite way to eat. Then again, I reasoned, there wasn’t much that wouldn’t be improved by being in Clay’s arms while doing it.

  Damn, there was just something so satisfying about the feeling of being warm, and clean, and having a full belly. It was the ultimate comfort. The ultimate safety.

  I reached my hands up above my head, stretching my arms and back like a cat who’d just woken up from a nap. I sighed, contentment flooding my cells like a drug. “Mmmm,” I murmured, “I feel so amazing after that shower and meal. Thanks for getting dinner, Clay. It was delicious.”

  He kissed the top of my head. “I’m glad.”

  I snuggled against him and he wrapped his arms around me. When he spoke, there was a slight tension in his voice that made my stomach flutter a little. Not in the good way this time, either.