I flex my toes in my sandals. “I don’t normally push at guys like I do with you.”
“I have a hard time believing that. Next you’ll claim you’re shy.”
A sardonic twist of my lips. “I’m not shy.”
“No shit.”
I giggle, he grins, then I sigh. Heavily. The events of the past twenty-four hours catch up to me. Being ripped away from my parents, some illegal motorcycle club at the motel, Olivia telling me that my life is a lie, trying to please Eli, the guilt of not pleasing Eli, the anger at Eli... A choking sensation squeezes my throat and I scratch my neck as if I could tear away the invisible noose.
“You okay?” Oz asks.
No. I’m not okay. All of this chaos threatens to follow me home. I’m happy at home. Content. And this visit from hell is going to mess with that.
Olivia said my life is a lie and there’s this dark suspicion that if I ask my mother for the truth, she won’t give it to me. An ache courses through me and my shoulders curve in with it. I’ve never doubted my mother before. Never. The pain that a few hours can shake my faith in her is too much to bear.
A slight, distant feminine voice rises up from the vent below my feet. My skin prickles. She’s here. My mother’s here. I stand and Oz pushes off the door, his eyes narrowed. “Emily, are you okay?”
I swallow.
One moment—a few seconds—and my entire life can change. I can do this and looking at Oz convinces me that overhearing my parents and Eli’s conversation is possible.
His black hair is an array of messy tufts sticking out in various directions. The bandanna is off and the urge is to knot my fingers in the strands. I step into his personal space. Close enough that heat instantly springs between us. Close enough that when we inhale to breathe, our bodies touch.
I lift my head and Oz’s deep blue eyes dart around my face in confusion. There’s a light stubble on his jaw and, being braver than I normally am, I reach up and gently brush my fingertips along the rough hairs. My heart beats faster with the soft scrape against my skin and Oz sucks in a breath of air.
“What are you doing?” His voice is deep and gruff. Each syllable caressing my soul.
What am I doing? I’m submitting to temptation. I’m taking control of my life. I lick my lips and Oz mirrors the motion. He’s not lying. He’s as attracted to me as I am to him and there’s no part of me that will regret what’s about to happen.
“I’m leaving soon,” I whisper.
“You are.”
“And I won’t be coming back.”
“You won’t.” His gaze wanders the length of my body. “But we can’t do whatever it is you’re thinking of doing.”
Resistance—not what I need and, deep down, not what I want. “Why not?”
Oz pierces me with his eyes and I spot not only a shadow of lust there, but a seriousness I’ve never seen from anyone else before. “Because you aren’t that type of girl.”
Normally, I’m not, yet I bristle like a porcupine and try to ignore the sting of rejection. Maybe he doesn’t want me like he claims. Maybe I’m making a fool of myself. “You have no idea who I am.”
“And you don’t know me and you don’t understand my world.”
His world. He’s right. I don’t, but I do know there’s so much more going on than anyone will tell me and I’m bent on finding it out. Oz thinks he has all the power here, but I’m not blind and I do listen. He wants to kiss me as much as I secretly crave to kiss him. This rawness going on between us is nothing I’ve ever felt before. It’s primal, instinctual, and instead of fighting it, I’m bent on using it to my advantage.
The girl I normally am, she’s begging me to return to my chair, but nothing about this moment is normal. Being here, the picture Olivia gave me, Eli’s sudden interest in me...the way my blood pounds in an urgent rhythm whenever Oz is around. “Are you saying you don’t want to kiss me?”
Oz rubs a hand over his face as if he’s waging an internal battle. It’s a battle against me and, in this, I will win. I step closer, my body pressing against his, and a slight twinge of a possible victory overtakes me when he closes his eyes as if he likes the feel of me.
“Are you all talk, Oz? In the short time I’ve known you, you keep saying you want to kiss me and I’m admitting I want to kiss you. This is a now or never. Once I leave here, I will never return.”
I take a huge risk. I lay my fingers on his shoulders, my thumb tracing his collarbone through his shirt. His head snaps up as if I found his “On” switch. A wave of electricity crackles in the air when our eyes meet and I love the utter shock written all over his face. Yes, I am the person in control.
In a lightning-fast movement, Oz’s hand snatches mine, the one that’s touching him, and he holds it in his grasp. He shifts so that he towers over me, like he did in the hallway, in a way that suggests he’s trying to take back control. “Is this what you really want, Emily? To kiss me? You don’t think I see right through you? That you try to kiss me, I lower my defenses, and you push past me and out the door?”
His thumb moves over the top of my hand and I shiver with the contact. My mouth runs dry at the thought of how close we both are to going over this edge. “I can guarantee that bolting past you was never on my mind.”
“Who are you, Emily?” he asks in a husky voice.
I don’t know who I am here. At home, I’m definitely not this. But here? “I’m not shy, and for today, I’m bold.”
“Are you sure about that?” In less than a second, Oz wraps his arms around me, erases the minute distance between us and presses me to him. One of his hands roams the small of my back while the other wanders to my hair. His fingers play with the ends and the gentle pull causes pleasing goose bumps to form along my skin. “Are you sure this is the position you want to be in with me?”
He’s playing with me, he’s testing me, he’s insisting that I tuck my tail between my legs and admit that I can’t go through with what I’ve started, but he doesn’t get how badly I want to understand what’s going on, to learn the truth.
My pulse picks up pace and adrenaline shoots through my veins. This is a means to an end, a means to an end alone, but what frightens me is how much I desire this.
I edge my hands up, brush them against the hot skin of his neck, let my fingernails dance near the tips of his longer hair. Oz’s body tenses and melts into mine at the same time.
“Does that feel like I’m playing?” I whisper.
His hold in my hair tightens. “Whatever you think you’ve got planned isn’t going to work. You’re not walking out that door.”
“Are you scared of me?” I taunt.
“I’m scared of no one. If you want to do this, we’ll do this, but as I said, you’re not going anywhere, so you might as well step back now.”
I may not be going anywhere this very second, but I will be soon. Very, very soon. “Are you going to stop me from leaving?”
“Yes,” he answers as his hands begin to wander and I move my head closer to his, placing my mouth undeniably near his.
“Unless you’re scared, then stop me, Oz.” Our lips briefly touch as I speak. “Kiss me and stop me from leaving right now.”
His nose skims my cheek and he’s still battling the chemistry between us. My own blood hums and frustration kicks in. “Kiss me. Just stop thinking and kiss me.”
He accepts the challenge as he crushes his lips against mine. My knees immediately buckle and, searching for stability, I weave my arms around his neck. Oz uses his strength to support me in response. My fingers rake through his hair. His hands massage my back.
A warmth spreads in my stomach and it’s a driving need that causes me to curl myself around him. Both of Oz’s hands slip down my spine. A slight brush along my bottom and I suck in a surprised and excited breath as Oz grabs on to
the back of my thighs.
My eyes open when Oz lifts me in the air and in a fast twist, I’m against the door right at his level. He stares at me. I stare at him. Our chests rise and fall at a rapid rate.
I have what I needed. The leverage to leave, but this...this type of kiss...I want more.
I tip toward him, letting my thighs carry some of my weight on his hips and Oz’s mouth edges up as he briefly closes his eyes, as if he enjoys the friction between us. I like that I affect him. I like all of this way too much.
My fingers drift into his hair, fulfilling my fantasy from earlier, and I tilt my head closer. Oz does the same and heat builds. If we start this again, will we stop? Do I want to stop?
The answer is no.
Mouths stir. A nibble on my lower lip. I take in his top one. A lick of his tongue. And the game continues to increase in intensity. Testing. Tasting. Teasing. Strengthening and growing and exploring and a silent rhythm is created. Soon not only our mouths are moving in time, but so are our bodies.
Oz redistributes my weight so that he’s leaning into me and my back is flush against the door. I part my lips, and the entire world explodes. His tongue sweeps next to mine and we’re both touching and moaning and so hungry for more. The delicious pressure of his mouth on my neck. More. The way his hips maneuver against mine. More. His muscles flexing under my caress. More...
I blink when Oz’s fingers slip to my shoulder near my tank-top strap. My hands slide to his chest and I push. As if I flipped his switch again, Oz places my feet on the ground and jumps back.
A rush of guilt consumes me because none of that is me. None of it. I don’t hook up, but that wasn’t a hook-up. It was a kiss. Just a kiss. Just the best freaking kiss of my life with a guy who hates me.
Oh my God, we were mauling each other. Oz draws down his shirt and readjusts parts in his pants. I drag a hand through my hair and try to ignore how the strands are completely tangled.
I graze my hand across my swollen lips. Just a kiss. Just a kiss. Just a kiss.
I clear my throat and Oz glances at me as if he’s startled.
“Um...” Think straight, Emily. “You need to sneak me out so I can hear what Eli has to say to my parents.”
Oz laughs. “Did you think I’m going to ruin my chance with the club because you thought I’d get sentimental? You’re wrong.”
I shake my head because he misunderstands. “No, you’re going to help me because if you don’t, I’ll tell Eli that you kissed me.”
Oz
EMILY AND I are crouched in the small kitchen next to the general meeting area of the Lanesville chapter. Above us is the open serving window. In the room adjoining the kitchen, chairs shift and there’s the occasional try at conversation between Emily’s parents to fill time.
Anger is a pulse within my body. I’m risking my entire future in the club because Emily—little good-girl Emily—knows how to seduce. Her ultimatum: bring her here to eavesdrop or she’ll inform Eli I kissed her. I have a better chance at surviving telling him we left the office than his daughter announcing we went at it and that I held her up against the door as I attempted to slip down her bra.
I silently rap my head against the wall behind me. What the hell was I thinking? I wasn’t thinking. That was my problem. I blame it on the lack of sleep, Emily looking too damn gorgeous for her own good and how she acts all naive and seductive.
I’m fucked. I’m stupid and I’m fucked.
“I’m going to go use the restroom,” says Emily’s dad.
“All right,” answers her mom.
Shoes against the concrete and the squeak of a chair being pulled out. From where we sit, we can see a reflection of Emily’s parents from the glass of a cabinet. Along the shelves in front of us are unopened bottles of liquor, boxes and, across from Emily, a jumbo box of condoms and a pair of women’s lace underwear.
Emily’s face contorts and my lips turn up.
“Ew,” she mouths.
My unrepentant smile grows and I shrug a so-what. Club life is club life and we don’t apologize to anyone for it.
We sit beside each other and our thighs slightly touch. I knead my eyes and try to push away the memory of Emily’s body moving against mine. That was the hottest damn kiss I’ve had and it’s going to cost my life or my future. And I thought only guys did the seducing. I should feel cheap, but that kiss was too good to feel used.
Trouble.
Emily is trouble and she needs to leave before I end up with a bullet in my head.
The door to the general area opens then closes and Emily straightens. My eyes snap to the glass case and I stop breathing. Eli.
There’s silence. A heavy silence as Emily’s mom and Eli stare at each other.
“Where’s Jeff?” Eli asks.
“Restroom,” she replies.
Emily’s fingers curl into her thigh and her knuckles grow white as we enter another long absence of conversation.
“It’s been a long time since we’ve been alone, Meg,” says Eli.
Meg stands. Her long blond hair is tied at the nape of her neck. Even in the mirror I can tell she’s pretty, but Emily is gorgeous. It’s obvious Emily inherited her height and soft features from her mom, but the rest of Emily is purely from Eli’s side.
Eli shoves his hands into his pockets and shifts to one side while keeping his eyes locked on Meg. Meg, on the other hand, rubs her hand over her neck. Then she walks, quickly, killing the distance between her and Eli. He holds out his arms and Meg falls into them.
Emily jerks and I plant a hand over her knee in warning. Emily’s eyes are wild as they beg me to explain what the hell is going on, but I’ve got nothing. This is new even to me. Eli gently enfolds Meg into him and kisses her temple. “I’ve missed you.”
His hand clutches her hair as Meg rests her head on his shoulder. They stay that way. A second. Another. Too long for Emily and she begins to scratch at a spot on her wrist. An angry red welt forms and I snatch her hand, keeping her fingers firmly in my grasp.
Emily’s chest is moving fast—too fast—and she focuses on the reflection with too much intensity. I glance over at the door we snuck in from off the back hallway. Emily needs to get out of here before she completely spirals.
A sniff from the other room and Emily’s mom finally steps away from Eli. “Jeff says that you never married.”
“No, I haven’t found anyone worth being with.” He pauses. “You didn’t need to work through Jeff all these years. It would have been nice to talk to you.”
Mirroring Emily earlier, Meg grips her elbows. “It’s better this way. Better for us to have distance... I should have never brought Emily here—”
“I’m glad you brought Emily,” Eli cuts her off. “I’m glad you came. But this should have been done differently. To show up unannounced—”
“I know,” Meg says harshly. “It’s just that when I thought Olivia was dead...it brought everything back and I reacted without thinking and... Is Emily in danger?”
“Yes,” Eli answers. “She is and I’m going to need time to fix it. You woke a sleeping giant and something that large takes time to put back to sleep.”
Emily’s hand goes limp and cold and I slip my fingers through hers. She studies me as she accepts the comfort I’m offering. Moisture lines the bottom of her eyes. The Riot. The Riot is after Emily and I don’t understand why.
She’s in danger and until now I honestly thought this was some stupid misunderstanding. The image of my father bleeding from his head enters my mind. That could be Emily.
The back door opens and my hand automatically shoots to my hip and my fingers clutch the air where my knife should be. Emily’s father strolls in and his eyes land on the two of us.
Emily shakes her head and raises a finger to her lips. His eyes flicker between m
e and Emily and then settle on the reflection of Eli and Meg that Emily eventually points at.
I hold my breath. Waiting for him to blow our cover, waiting for him to nail me to the wall for holding his daughter’s hand while sitting so close. Instead, he motions for us to go out in the hallway.
Quietly, we do, and once there he leans down and whispers to Emily, “I’ll find you soon.”
Emily
HOLDING MY HAND, my father guides me into the hot June sun and away from the men in black leather vests to a bench swing that hangs under a shade tree on the other side of the parking lot. Twenty minutes after Oz and I returned to the office and waited in silence, my parents walked in with Eli.
I hugged Dad and then Mom, but I have to admit to being numb. Eli told me this morning that I wasn’t in danger and he told my mother I was. What does it mean? What does any of this mean? They hugged. Mom and Eli hugged like they meant it.
“Why don’t you sit down, Em?” Dad says.
Parroting a puppet on a string, I do, and Dad claims the spot beside me. Mom exits the warehouse with Eli behind her. She veers right and observes me and Dad from an empty picnic table. Eli heads left toward a group of men, but I don’t miss how his gaze roams to us. Oz also watches us as he talks to a guy about our age, except this guy has a vest on.
Dad takes a deep breath and I steel myself for his rip-the-Band-Aid-off method. “Eli wants you to stay in Snowflake for a while—for the summer, even.”
“Oh, hell no.” I go to jump up, but Dad places a hand on my knee.
“Will you agree to just hear me out?”
I want to scream “no,” but the silent plea in Dad’s eyes causes me to settle back on the swing. “Fine.”
“Thank you.”
He’s totally not welcome.
“Eli feels that the Riot, the motorcycle club that they’re rivals with, is a threat to you because of his current business issues, and that you’ll be safer under his protection than you would be returning home. Eli believes that if the Riot thinks you’re unprotected, they’ll use you against him. Your mom agrees with him. No one has made this decision lightly. Not Eli. Not your mom. I want to know your thoughts.”
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