Scooter

by Marie James

  “You distract me, too.” It’s the truth, but his distractions have helped me feel better. I get the distinct impression that the way I’m distracting him isn’t resulting in positive outcomes.

  “I was so focused on revenge and retribution on your behalf, that I almost got Jinx and myself killed in Venezuela.”

  My knees go weak, but I’m able to catch myself before I crash to the floor. “What?”

  Sad eyes meet mine. “I wanted to tear Jiménez apart piece by piece. I wanted him to beg to live, and then after I spent hours hurting him, I wanted him to beg to die, but I was so focused on what I wanted to do, I missed him pulling a gun. The bruises on my chest were the result of that.”

  “You were shot!” Tears flood my eyes and fall down my cheeks, and suddenly it’s harder to breathe. He had three huge purple bruises on his torso when he got home. That’s three chances that evil man had to end his life.

  He shrugs. “It happens.”

  I shake my head, instantly rejecting the thought that they get shot, and it seems to be no big deal to him.

  “That’s not the problem. The issue is not being able to concentrate because you’re clouding my head, compromising my judgment. I can’t stop thinking about you, and in a normal man’s life, that wouldn’t be so bad, but mistakes in my line of work can cost me my life or those of the guys on my team. I was stupid in South America, and I can’t let it happen again.”

  My throat works on a rough swallow, the lump forming threatening to keep me from speaking.

  “So, I need to leave then?”

  Chapter 29

  Scooter

  I look up at her, and I hate the pain and unwanted acceptance in her eyes.

  She nods, but it seems like she’s trying to convince herself rather than me.

  “I always knew this was a possibility.” Her lips attempt a sad smile, but they fail.

  Standing from the bed, I walk into the hall and grab the handle to her suitcase before going next door to the room that was hers before.

  I know she thinks I’m ending things. That was clear as day on her pretty face, and maybe I’m a little bit of an asshole for letting her continue thinking that for a few minutes, but hell if this woman didn’t gut me when she left without warning and then spent two weeks without so much as a peep. I’m hurting her, and that’s petty as fuck, but she hurt me, too. She needs to know that my emotions are just as important as hers.

  I see silent sobs shaking her shoulders when I turn back to face her, and I want to comfort her. I want to wrap my arms around her and never let her go, but I know that much contact would demolish any restraint I’m trying to manage.

  “I’ll catch a flight first thing in the morning,” she says through her tears. “I should’ve called instead of coming all the way—”

  I press my fingers to her lips to silence her.

  “You’re not going anywhere, but we need to take things slowly.”

  Her lips move against my fingers, but I keep her silent by pressing just a little harder. It’s not enough to hurt her, and it’s not aggressive in any way, but just enough to get my point across.

  “We can talk about everything over dinner.”

  Her eyes narrow as they search mine for answers. I know I’ve confused her, and I seriously want to explain everything right now, but patience on both our parts will benefit both of us more in the end. Rushing will only lead to problems, and God knows we’ve had our fair share of those.

  Her lips are soft against the calloused tips of my fingers, and knowing just how those lips feel against mine makes it hard for me to step back from her. Space is the last thing I want, but I’m ramped up right now. I didn’t know she was coming. I had no time to try and wrap my head around her being here again.

  She’s crying because I’m the biggest asshole in the world, and yet my cock is hard for her, an iron spike in my jeans. I can’t control it, but that doesn’t mean my mind isn’t cataloging all the things I want to do to her, with her, for her.

  She needs understanding and reassurance that I’m not going anywhere. I’m not a man who can’t get a handle on his own fucking hormones.

  The second I pull my finger back, she licks her lips, and even though I don’t think she did it on purpose, the tip of her tongue inadvertently touches my finger, and it does absolutely nothing to squelch the situation below my waist. If anything, it makes it ten times worse, to the point that I’m warring with wondering if one little kiss won’t hurt.

  Only I know it wouldn’t stop there. A peck on the lips would turn into the brush of my tongue on her plump lower lip. She’d gasp, and I’d be forced to seek her own tongue. She’d release a breathy moan, and then what little restraint I had would fly out the damn window. My hands would be on her, seeking to explore all the areas I’ve only been able to imagine up to this point. Next her—

  No. Stop.

  I shake my head as my fingers itch to readjust my erection, but I don’t want to draw any more attention to the damn thing.

  “Dinner?” she asks innocently, her eyes still on mine. She’s unaware of my struggle right now, and I want to keep it that way.

  No pressure and taking things slow also means finding some way to keep my damn self under control. I need her setting the pace, and since my cock is yelling full steam ahead, I know I can’t trust myself to drive this situation.

  “You cook?” she continues when I can’t focus enough to speak.

  I chuckle, a throaty sound that is really misplaced right now, but she doesn’t seem to notice.

  “I don’t cook.” I clear my throat when the words come out husky and seductive rather than informative as I’d attempted. “We’re going out to eat.”

  I expect her to shut down, for apprehension to fill her pretty brown eyes, but instead of backing away from me and holding up her hands to reject the offer, she smiles, a bright, perfect sight I’ve only seen a couple of times up to this point.

  “Is that okay?” I ask, hoping I’m not misjudging her reaction.

  “Dinner sounds perfect.”

  Her eyes are still rimmed in red from crying, and her cheeks are wet from tears that have stopped falling, but she’s still the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid eyes on. She’s pretty in her brokenness, but Lord give me strength if she isn’t absolutely divine in her healing.

  “I need to shower and get ready. Is an hour-long enough for you to do the same?”

  “That’s plenty of time,” she assures me.

  I give her a curt nod before turning back to leave the room, but her arm reaches out, clasping onto my bicep to prevent me from walking away.

  “Ryan?”

  A rush of air leaves my lungs at the breathy way my name leaves her lips.

  “Yeah?”

  She doesn’t say a word as she steps in front of me and wraps her arms around my waist. She smells like the perfect combination of every single thing that’s good in the world. She’s happiness and serenity, Christmas and spring. I breathe her in, unable to resist planting my nose against the top of her head.

  I could do this for hours, just standing here with my arms around her, but she doesn’t linger, and the hug is over too soon. She gives me a shy smile as she steps back, and I take it as my chance to leave. Getting my thoughts, hormones, and expectations under control may take longer than the hour of time I’ve allotted before dinner, but I’ll do my best.

  The shame I’ve always felt when I stroked off to thoughts of her before don’t hit me this time around. The softness of her skin. The way her eyelashes brush her cheeks like butterfly wings when she’s tired but fighting sleep. The warmth of her breath against my skin the last night she was here. All of it filters in while the regret, discomfort, and derision never show.

  Things are different. She’s different than she was a few weeks ago, and excitement warms my blood as I get dressed. Maybe the break was exactly what she needed?

  I stay in my room until ten minutes before we’re to leave, but anxiousness draw
s me out. A quick peek tells me that her door is closed, so I make my way to the living room, praying I don’t walk in on something crazy going on between Max and Jasmine. I’m all for sexual freedom, but seeing my boss’s daughter naked and in a compromising position isn’t an image I want in my head.

  I don’t have to worry about a damn thing because Mia is already in the living room when I round the corner. I want to kick myself for wasting time in my bedroom, but her smile smooths everything over.

  “Where are you two going?” Max asks as I step closer.

  “Mind your business,” Mia tells him, but there’s laughter in her voice, and it makes me wonder what they were discussing before I showed up.

  Mia stands, walking to me in a way that makes what I did in the shower irrelevant. All the bruises on her face are gone, and even though her arm is still in a cast, she looks perfectly healthy.

  “You’re gorgeous,” I whisper when she steps closer.

  Her clothes must be ones she got from home because she’s in jeans and a nice top, rather than leggings and one of my old t-shirts, which she arrived in earlier.

  Her fingers toy with the space left open from the top button of my shirt being undone.

  “Ready to go?”

  She smiles up at me in answer, and I can’t help but imagine how tonight is going to go.

  Chapter 30

  Mia

  Has he always been this handsome, or have I been blind to his appeal?

  Well, not completely blind, of course. There isn’t a single unattractive man in Cerberus that I’ve seen. Every one of them is in the prime of their lives, physically fit, and an air about them that makes women stop and take a look, but Ryan is the epitome of handsome. Add in his ability to be patient, kind, and protective, and he’s the perfect man. How did I ever get on a plane and walk away from him?

  The softness of his hair makes me want to run my fingers through it, but he’s also trimmed his beard, leaving behind a hint of scruff, and that’s beyond appealing as well.

  “I’m ready,” I tell him, agreeing once again to dinner, but my voice is husky, and from the way his eyes widen and his throat works, I can tell he’s feeling the same attraction that I am.

  He helps me into my coat as Jasmine and Max watch our interaction. My brother’s attention was split between the game on the TV and Jasmine, but now, Ryan and I are garnering all of his attention. I’m in a better position now to discuss Max’s history, death, and reappearance, but Ryan is my only concern right now.

  I hate the thickness of my coat as Ryan places his palm to my back and guides me toward the door. I want to feel the heat of his touch, but there will be time for that later. I hope.

  Like a gentleman and unlike Jason’s behavior, he opens the passenger door of an SUV and waits for me to climb inside and get my seatbelt on before he closes the door. After climbing inside, he cranks the car, turning the heater up full blast, and we grin at each other as we fist our hands near our mouths and blow air on them to warm our fingers.

  “I can’t get over how cold it is here,” I mumble around my hands.

  “Nebraska is much colder,” he says. “At least there isn’t snow right now. I hate driving in that shit.”

  We make small talk all the way into town. He urges me to wait for him as he climbs out of the SUV outside of the diner, and I’m grinning like a fool when he opens the passenger door for me and offers his hand to take as I climb out.

  “Thank you,” I whisper, realizing how far manners go, especially after everything that’s happened to me.

  A waitress seats us quickly in a booth in the back and takes our drink order before walking away. Instead of sitting across from me, Ryan positions himself beside me, so we can both see the entire dining area. I pull a napkin from the dispenser and begin to shred it, but unlike while I was meeting with Jason, I’m not filled with doubt, worry, and abundant frustrations. I am nervous. He said we’ll have our serious discussion at dinner, and I don’t know if he’s bringing me to a public place to tell me things are over or if he needs people around so he can keep things slow like he mentioned back at the clubhouse.

  I don’t think it’s the former, but I’ve learned to stop making assumptions.

  “Listen I—”

  “What I—”

  We begin at the same time. We both pause to laugh, and even though he’s a gentleman, he begins again instead of deferring to me to speak my mind.

  “What I wanted to talk about is serious.” He looks around at the smiling people enjoying their meals. “I don’t know if this is the best place.”

  “Nope.” I shake my head and turn slightly in my seat so I can see his face better. “You’re not getting out of this that easily, but if it makes you feel better, I can go first.”

  His eyes search mine as if he’s trying to determine what I have to say. I wasn’t very nice to him back in his room, and even though I had wanted to say exactly what I did, I also didn’t want to resort to getting angry and pointing blame.

  He nods eventually, but I pause before speaking, noticing our waitress returning to the table with our drinks and a basket of warm, fresh rolls.

  The wait for our discussion is even longer because resisting the carbs on the table is impossible for me. I’ve eaten what I needed since getting rescued, but after my conversation with Jason and my middle-of-the-night epiphany at my parents’, I’ve been ravenous. It’s like I’m making up for the calorie deficiency from the last couple of months.

  “Good?” Ryan asks with a grin as I devour half the roll in one bite.

  My mouth is stuffed full, so all I can do is nod.

  “So good,” I tell him after I swallow. “Get one.”

  “Maybe later,” he says as his eyebrows go up, indicating that he’s waiting for me to speak.

  “I shouldn’t have left the way I did. I’m not going to apologize for going because it was exactly what I needed, but not letting you know I was going back home was rude.” I place the remaining half of my roll on the small plate and wipe my fingers on a napkin. He deserves all of my attention no matter how much I really want to eat the entire basket of bread. “I did a lot of thinking while I was away. I cleaned a lot of things off my plate.”

  His lip twitches, and I wonder if he’s aware, due to my response to the bread, just how much I’ve been eating.

  I clear my throat to hide my smile. I’m trying to be serious, and he’s distracting me from saying what needs to be said.

  “I don’t see you as just the guy who rescued me. When I look into your eyes, I can picture a future with you. I like the idea of slow, but at the same time, I feel like we’ve been crawling at a snail’s pace. You’ve been there for me, comforted me, kept me safe from the demons when they tried to sneak in. You’ve been my sounding board, and my champion when I wasn’t strong enough to fight for myself. You stood up to my brother in Miami and wouldn’t take no for an answer when I wanted to come back with you to New Mexico even though I’d only known you for a couple of days.”

  I bite my lip to force myself to pause because my words are rushing out, and I’m saying too much too fast and I don’t want to lose him or cheapen the moment.

  “You’ve held me in your arms while ignoring your own body. You haven’t pushed me to take things further, and I know how hard that can be for a man, but you’re not controlled by desire and lust. You never once made me feel like you expected something of me when I asked you to give me things daily. I need the warmth of your body and your arms around me to feel safe. I needed your company, your stories, and when it was too much, I also needed some space. You gave that all to me without question. But you also followed me with your eyes. You’d watch me the way a man watches a woman he’s interested in, not like a man guarding someone he feels he has to protect.”

  “I didn’t mean to look at you that way,” he interrupts, and my face falls.

  Refusing to leave this diner confused or unsure of where we stand, I rush out, “Because you don’t see me th
at way or—”

  His eyes sparkle. “No, I definitely see you that way, but I didn’t mean for that to show so soon.”

  I cup his jaw with my hand, finally getting the chance to feel the rough stubble on his cheeks. “I want you to look at me that way, and even though I wasn’t ready to see you as more than a protector then. I am now.”

  “Spell it out for me, Sweet Mia,” he begs.

  “I want you in that way. I really like you, and I’m insanely attracted to you.”

  “I missed you like crazy when you were gone. I was on the verge of going mad.”

  “I handled it poorly,” I confess. “It won’t happen again.”

  “It can’t.” He swallows again. “If we’re going to do this. If we’re going to be more than friends, I need to know where we stand at all times. I’ve already been suspended for a month.”

  “Suspended?” I don’t mean to interrupt him, but he’s been dealing with more than I was even aware.

  “Mistakes were made in South America,” he reminds me.

  Like I could ever forget.

  “There are consequences, and if they let me go back out in the field, I have to have my head on straight. I won’t ever stop worrying about you. It’s not ever going to be possible, but I need to be able to do my job without distractions. At least while I’m physically working.”

  “If you want me to stay, I’m here. I love my parents, but I can’t ever see New Orleans being my home. There’s too much darkness, too many things tainting it for me. I know I was presumptuous coming back here, but I don’t want you to say things or promise things you aren’t a hundred percent sure of.”

  He nods, looking relieved when the waitress returns to take our orders. The last time she stopped by, we hadn’t even looked at our menus. Right now is no different, but instead of asking her to come back again, Ryan orders for both of us. He must be aware of my current carb obsession because he orders me French toast with eggs and hash browns.