by J. C. Cliff
“You ever ride before?” I asked, as she stared at my bike.
She shook her head, and I sighed. I threw my leg over and straddled the bike, bracing my hands on the handlebars as I looked at her.
“Climb on and hold on tight,” I instructed, watching her pretty little lips part. I couldn’t help think how I wouldn’t mind repeating those same words under different circumstances. I shook my head, shoving my thoughts and my desires aside.
“The hospital isn’t that far of a ride from here,” I said.
Her eyes snapped to mine, and she shook her head. “No hospitals,” she uttered. “I can’t go to the hospital.”
“That burn looks pretty nasty, Reina. You should have it checked out.”
“No, I said no,” she took a retreating step back. “It isn’t that bad,” she said, her voice sounding detached. “It’s nothing.”
I realized the burn that ran along her forearm was in fact nothing compared to what she probably had endured in that fire. Bianci’s voice haunted me, reminding me she had been badly burned, so much so she had been hospitalized for weeks. My eyes traveled the length of her trying to determine where she had been burned in the fire and then it clicked. The baggy clothes she wore were an armor for the scars that marred her body.
“I just want to go home,” she whispered.
“Okay,” I conceded. “Just tell me where you live.”
“The Southgate projects,” she mumbled, taking another step toward my bike, staring at the helmet in her hand like it was a foreign object. She slowly lifted it on top of her head and I reached out and fastened the chin strap. She awkwardly assessed how she would climb onto the bike before placing her hand on my shoulder and throwing her leg over.
One touch and I was branded.
She positioned her feet and scooted closer, the warmth of her body pressing against my back. She fumbled with her hands, placing them on my shoulders first then dropping them to rest at my hips. I exhaled and reached for her hands, wrapping them around my waist.
“Hold tight and steady, Sunshine,” I ordered, as her breasts collided with my back and her fists closed around my leather jacket. She rested her chin on my shoulder as I ripped the engine of my bike, the sweet sound of her purring to life engulfing me as I peeled away from Dee’s.
I took off into the dark with the wind in my hair and sunshine on my back.
Chapter Five
REINA
Alive.
I was breathing big gulps of air.
My heart was beating so fast and so profound it felt as if it was outside of my chest.
Adrenaline soared through my veins like a rocket taking launch.
For the first time in months I wasn’t the victim. I wasn’t the woman living in the shadow of a life she once had. I wasn’t the tortured soul suffering with survivor’s guilt.
The wind blew through my hair, pushing it away from my shoulders, baring my face to the dark night. The faceless woman, the one who hid behind a mane of hair and ill-fitting clothes, disappeared for a moment.
Just a moment.
And I felt reborn as I temporarily was gifted a glimpse of the carefree woman who enjoyed living on the edge. The girl I was before the world fell out from under me. It was funny how something I never did before could remind me I was still breathing.
I rested my chin on Jack’s shoulder forgetting what led me to this moment. I had found a sliver of life in the face of a stranger.
“Faster,” I encouraged. I don’t know what came over me, didn’t even care to overthink it either, but being on the back of Jack’s bike was the escape I needed. He turned his head slightly to the right, stealing a glance of me in his side-view mirror and I swear his lips curved ever so subtly.
He accelerated, taking us to a speed way past legal, and I felt the most incredibly foreign sensation in my belly. Butterflies. Jack, the stranger, who not only gave me a glimpse of life, gave me butterflies too.
I fought the urge to close my eyes and fly away with the feeling of utter peace. Instead, I kept my eyes wide open to witness the world around me, the world I ignored since the fire.
I gripped the leather that covered him, holding on for dear life and threw my head back, letting the wind wash over me. I forgot all about the burn that evoked so many memories tonight. The fire I lived through, the scars that desecrated my body, the love I lost—it all became a distant memory. I even forgot about Danny.
I pressed my thighs closer against Jack, trapping him between me as he turned the motorcycle onto the street I lived. The false sense of feeling as if I was going to fall overcame me but Jack maneuvered the bike like he was born to do so. He pulled up in front of the seedy apartment complex I called home and I felt disappointment settle in. My chrome horse and carriage, and my prince of a biker had just turned into a pumpkin. The engine died and so did the little part of me that was reborn.
My hands fell from his jacket, dropping awkwardly to my sides and my legs parted, loosening their grip on him. I watched as he lifted his eyes toward my apartment building, silently assessing the drug dealers that were making a score and the couple fighting in the court yard. I worked the helmet off my head and threw my leg over the bike, standing beside it and holding his helmet out for him to take.
Jack’s eyes diverted from the building to mine. It was the stare I had become accustomed to, the one that looked right through me, breaking through my steel exterior and seeing all I tried to hide.
“Thank you for the ride,” I whispered, looking away from him. It was too much, the ride, the temporary rebirth of myself, the way he looked at me and the way he was making me feel. It was unnerving and I couldn’t handle it anymore. Not tonight.
“I’ll walk you to your door,” he replied, dropping his kickstand and maneuvering off his bike.
My eyes snapped to his, and I shook my head.
“That’s unnecessary,” I said.
“It wasn’t a request, Sunshine,” his voice rough and impatient.
“I don’t think it’s wise for you to leave your bike here,” I countered, desperate for him to let me be.
He shoved his hands into his pockets and shook his head slightly, his eyes dark as they fixated on mine. It was evident there was nothing I could say or do that would change his mind.
“Very well,” I conceded, turning around toward the walkway. He walked closely behind me, too closely. His arm snaked around me once I reached the doorway, to pull open the door and hold it for me to pass through. I stared at his hand pressed against the glass, pausing to take in the tattoos that cover his fingers and wondered if there was a square inch on his body not covered with ink.
“I’m on the fourth floor and the elevator is out of order.”
“Reina, keep it moving,” he said gruffly, leaving no room for argument.
I climbed the stairs, flight after flight with Jack close behind me, finally making it to the landing of the fourth floor. I didn’t look over my shoulder anymore, learning it was a waste of time to argue with the man. I led him past the crack whore that sat in the middle of the hallway, heard him mutter something I couldn’t comprehend and then paused in front of my door. I grabbed my keys from inside my purse and fitted them into the lock. Turning the door knob, I opened the door, stepped inside, flicked on the lights and turned around to bid Jack farewell but collided with his large solid frame.
His hand closed over my wrist and he lifted my arm that had been burned, dropping his eyes from mine to take in the nasty mark that ran up my forearm.
“Let’s fix you up,” he said. “Do you have dish soap?”
I parted my lips to speak then snapped them shut and nodded toward the kitchen.
He kicked the door shut with his leather boot. My hand tucked into his much larger one, he walked me to the tiny kitchen in my apartment. He looked unbelievably large in my kitchen, so completely out of place.
I should tell him to leave.
Instead, I watched as he rolled my sleeve up my arm, and caref
ully touched my injury. He held my arm over the sink and poured the dish soap over the shiny purple skin. I closed my eyes as the thick soap coated my irritated skin.
“Keep your arm up,” he instructed, turning around to turn on the water. He dipped his hand under the faucet to test the water before taking hold of my wrist again and placing it under the stream of water. “Do you have any A & D ointment?” he asked, turning my wrist slightly so the water washed all the soap off.
“I have Mederma,” I replied. If he only knew the contents of my medicine cabinet. I had every burn cream, every scarring ointment the drug store sold, not to mention a variety of pain and anxiety meds. “I’ll go get it,” I blurted.
He shut the faucet and nodded, wiping his hands on a dishtowel. I hurried into the bathroom to grab the cream before he followed me or insisted on getting it himself. By the time I came back into the kitchen he was leaning against the counter staring at a photo of me and Danny that was tucked under a magnet. I watched as he uncrossed his arms from his chest and reached for the picture.
“Here,” I choked out, holding out the tube of cream for him, hoping that he wouldn’t touch my photograph. It was all I had left, the only thing that hadn’t turned to ash.
His eyes slowly lifted to mine, assessing me, noting the urgency in my voice. Jack pushed off the counter, keeping a steady eye on me as he closed the distance between us and took the cream from my hand.
“You were pretty shaken up back there,” he probed, unscrewing the cap.
“You must think I’m crazy,” I said evasively.
He froze, piercing me with a sharp look. The ointment lost on his index finger.
“I don’t think you’re crazy,” he insisted, adamantly.
“You might be the only one,” I said, rolling my eyes, cringing as I remembered the way Johnny, the cook, had reacted to my outburst. I glanced down at Jack as he slowly rubbed the ointment in circles across my burn. So tender.
“Thank you,” I whispered.
“You’re welcome,” he responded. “Do you want to cover it with some gauze or let it breathe a bit?”
“It's fine,” I said, knowing that if I covered the burn it would blister and the rawness would burn something fierce. “I’ll cover it up before I go to sleep.”
He nodded, wiping his hand on the dishtowel and covering the tube before he placed it on top of the counter. I watched him glance around my kitchen, stalk over to my kitchen table, pick up a pen and pull a napkin from the holder. I tried to look over his shoulder, but he was much taller than me, even hunched over the table the way he was I’d have to stand on tip toe.
He finished jotting down whatever it was and turned around. Taking my hand, he turned my palm upward and placed the napkin inside of it.
“You looked like you were going through something tonight, if you need to talk or even if you just want another ride, that’s my number and where you can find me,” he said, closing my palm over the napkin.
I stared at him blankly. This man was a stranger yet I was drawn to him. I couldn’t explain the overwhelming sense of safety his presence inflicted upon me. He was gentle and chivalrous despite the leather and tattoos. He looked hard, maybe even a little scary and still I was not afraid. I should ask him to leave, ask him to stay away from the diner but somewhere along the way I looked forward to hearing the engine of his bike roar to life, night after night. Serving Jack, a cup of coffee had become a highlight in my otherwise dull life.
“Why do you come into the diner every night?” I blurted out.
He reached out and wrapped a strand of my blonde hair around his finger. My breath hitched as his eyes studied my hair as he unraveled the strands only to wind a thicker strip around his finger. He diverted his eyes back to mine and took a step closer. Alarms sounded inside my head, my heart rate picked up and I felt the butterflies take off in the pit of my stomach, just as I had when I rode blindly into the night on his bike.
I stepped closer, my feet betraying my conscience, and he raised his free hand to my cheek, his knuckles gently grazing my skin. I closed my eyes as I felt myself sink deeper and deeper into foreign territory. I felt more in one hour with this man than I had in the last ten months.
He leaned close, his breath tickling my lips, the smell of his cologne branding me.
“In a world as dark as the one I live in, sometimes I can’t help but crave sunshine,” he said huskily.
Sunshine.
Me.
His mouth touched the corner of mine and something inside of me snapped. I pressed my hands to his chest and pushed with all my might—only for him not to budge.
“What are you doing?” I asked, taking a step back, staring at him in shock, his hands frozen in the air from holding my hair and face.
“Answering your question,” he said, dropping his hands back to his sides. “I’m very expressive.”
“You need to leave,” I insisted. “Thank you for the ride and for helping me treat my burn, but this…” I pointed to the space between us, “is not going to happen. I’m not looking for a man, and if I was it wouldn’t be the likes of you,” I closed my eyes at my own rudeness. “I’m sorry, that sounded horrible.”
“I get it, Reina,” he bit out, his eyes narrowing at me as his features hardened. “Only straight-laced dicks get Sunshine’s pussy wet,” he sneered.
I cringed, his words assaulting me as he stepped around me.
“Jack, wait,” I cried out, as I turned around and watched him walk away from me.
He pulled open the door and looked over his shoulder at me.
“Lock the fucking door,” he growled, slamming it behind him.
I stared at the door hoping it would open and he’d walk back inside but knew that wasn’t likely. I glanced down at the napkin in my hand, taking a deep breath before walking toward the refrigerator and hanging it alongside Danny’s picture.
I wouldn’t call.
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CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
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BLYSS by J.C. Cliff
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It’s dark gray, edgy… but what you think is going to happen in this series doesn’t happen. Blyss Trilogy is full of twists and turns and a lot of “I didn’t see that coming.”
Chapter One
~Jules~
“I’m going to miss you,” I whisper, and I can feel my eyes beginning to fill with unshed tears.
“Hey now, Jules, don’t cry. It’s only going to be for a couple of months,” he says as he takes a tendril of my long, blonde hair, tucking it behind my ear.
“Yeah, but it’s a couple of months too long. I’m going to be miserable,” I say sadly. Now that my junior year at college has wrapped up, my father has suddenly decided—no, demanded is more like it—he wants me home for the entire summer.
Adam’s lips gently brush over mine, and I close my eyes at the feel of his soft lips. I love his kisses, but this one is way too short and sweet. When he pulls away, I give him my best pout, and he gives me a knowing grin.
“I love you so much, Adam,” I say with total reverence. My heart begins to break, and I miss him already.
“And you know I love you with every fiber of my being.” He pauses, piercing me with a heated stare. “Next year at this time, we’re tying the knot.” I give this beautiful man my most heartfelt smile. “I’m making you mine once and for all. I’ve waited long
enough.”
“How about the day after I graduate college?” I tease. Over the past year, it seems as if I’ve developed a bit of separation anxiety, and I’m trying desperately not to have a meltdown. When Adam pulls my body closer to his, he wraps his hands around my waist possessively and nuzzles his nose into the crook of my neck. Kissing me there, he then works his way to my ear, knowing this is my Achilles heel, my most-sensitive erogenous zone. It unravels me every time, and he uses it like a secret weapon. I shiver and feel goose bumps race across my arms.
“I’d marry you tomorrow, if I didn’t think your father would have me tied to a guillotine and serve my head on a platter for dinner,” he whispers, his warm breath sending shivers down my spine.
A blaring voice interrupts our little interlude as the intercom speakers reverberate throughout the terminal of Logan Airport. “Flight 964 to Atlanta is now boarding.” The voice repeats its announcement again, and I close my eyes and groan. Not wanting to leave him just yet, I trap him by interlocking my fingers tightly behind his neck. Sighing, I lay my head against his hard chest in defeat. He strokes my back tenderly, trying to calm my nerves and ease me into our impending separation. I breathe in his scent, committing it to memory.
“It will be all right; two months is a drop in the bucket compared to a lifetime with you,” he whispers into my ear. Then I feel Adam reluctantly pulling away from me. I open my blurry eyes when he lifts my chin, and a single tear slips from the corner of my eye.
“You better get going. You don’t want to miss your flight,” he says huskily, and then he wiped away my tear.
“And how would that be a bad thing?” I sniffle, trying to be strong.
He expels a burst of air from his lungs and gives me a forced grin. “It won’t be that bad, Jules. Your dad cares in his own way. I don’t even think he realizes how restraining his demands are on you. It’s probably just his personality; since he’s running a global empire, he’s used to laying down rules at every turn. He’s had to be hardcore to become the success he is today.” He lets go of my chin and places his hand back around my waist, pulling me in tightly. “But you already know all that. You know he loves you, and I know he means well.” He pauses, giving me a dazzling smile. “Look at it this way: if he didn’t send you away to boarding school, we would have never met.” I nod my head in agreement. That is so true, and I give him a shaky smile.