“Hey, Harper?” He seemed to be yelling above traffic and she thought that he sounded happy to hear from her.
“Hey, Rocco. My car’s dead. Something to do with EPC, whatever that might be, and I’m just outside of Randolph. Is there anyone at Broken Hill who fixes cars?”
“There sure is. Hang in there a moment and I’ll speak to Jed.” A minute later, he was back on the line. “He’s tied up for another three hours, and he says you’ll need a tow. I’m not far away though. I’ll come pick you up and we can drop him the key.”
“Great, thanks, Rocco.”
“No problem. I’ll see you in ten.”
Relief flooded through her. Sometimes things were just that easy. She leaned against the car and waited.
Within minutes, the deep grunt of a sporty motorbike reached her ears, and seconds later, and much to her dismay, a lean black bike pulled up behind her, its rider hunched over it, powerful and muscular, in a pair of black leather biker pants, black biker boots, and nothing else. She actually felt her eyes widening as she surveyed Rocco’s huge pecs and bunched shoulder muscles, along with the colorful tattoos that adorned his arms and torso. He pulled off his helmet and shook his hair out. She tried not to notice how sexy his hair looked falling black and tousled around his face.
“Ready?” he said, and annoyance surged through her.
“Rocco, no!” she yelled. “You know I hate motorbikes. You should’ve told me you were coming on your bike.” He pretended to be shocked.
“I thought things had changed.”
“Not this.” She ran her eyes over the dangerous-looking machine in distaste. Everything about it scared the hell out of her.
“Come on, Harper. It’s fine. You’ll be safe with me.”
“No. I just can’t. All I can think about is us having a crash and being smashed to pieces on the road.” He looked a touch offended.
“I’m good at this, Harper. I drive in the dark, in the mountains, all the time. I’ve never had an accident. In fact, I’ve never heard of a shifter having an accident. We’re too fast and agile to get ourselves all fucked up like some clueless human.” She sighed out a long breath.
“No, it’s okay. I’ll just take a taxi to the edge of the territory.”
“That’s not really possible. You’ll still have miles to walk, and you’ll have to get let off in a desolate area, which will look suspicious. Xander will freak if he finds out about it.”
“Fine, I’ll wait for the tow truck then,” she snapped, folding her arms.
“Harper, come on. That’ll be a long three hours. I’ll drive real safe. I’d never let anything happen to you. Please trust me.” His eyes were beseeching, and his mouth was serious, devoid of his typical cockiness. She kept looking at the bike. As much as she hated bikes, she had to admit that it looked pretty cool – light and agile, made for racing. She used to hate him riding motorbikes in their teens, convinced that his overconfidence would make him do something stupid. But he hadn’t, she conceded. He’d apparently made it all the way to the age of 23 without coming off once.
“You’ll go slow? You won’t start showing off?” His jaw tightened and his nostrils flared slightly.
“I quit showing off about the time I started shaving,” he said in an exasperated tone. She raised an eyebrow, but didn’t say anything. Three hours was a tediously long time to wait.
“How long will it take us to get back?”
“Forty minutes, give or take.”
“Can you put on a shirt or something, so I don’t have to cling to your sweaty back at least?” He raised his arms and dropped them again, and she couldn’t help but notice how great his pecs looked when he did that.
“I wasn’t expecting company, so what you see is what you get, I’m afraid.” She used her hand to shield her eyes from the sun. Was she imagining it, or were his lips curving into that cocky half smile again? She gave a sigh.
“Okay. I’ll ride on the bike with you. But do anything to freak me out, even just a little bit, and you’ll be very sorry, Rocco Silvester.” This time there was no mistaking the cockiness in his expression. He held the helmet out to her. She frowned.
“But what are you going to wear?” He shrugged.
“I’ll be okay.” Reluctantly, she took it and pulled it on. It smelled of him – rich, fresh and a little spicy. He helped her fasten the chin strap, then climbed onto the bike and pulled out the passenger footrests. She walked over and tried to swing her leg over the back of the bike, but there was nothing to hold on to and it was awkward.
“I’m afraid you’ll have to use me for balance,” he said with a smirk. Groaning, she put her arms around his waist and easily climbed onto the back. He guided her feet onto the supports. “Now, sit closer to me. It’s a small seat and you’ll destabilize me if you’re that far back.” Unwillingly, she shuffled closer, until the apex of her thighs brushed against his ass, and her inner thighs wrapped around him. It felt intimate. Far too intimate. Even with the visor down, she picked up the scent of his skin, only inches from her face.
“Hold tight!” he told her. She didn’t need to be told twice. She gripped him around the waist as tightly as she could. “It’s a good thing I don’t need to breathe all the way home,” he quipped with a laugh. Despite herself, she laughed too and loosened her grip a little. “Just relax, Harper. Sit close and still, and I’ll deal with the leaning, okay? And don’t worry. I’m going to ride like I’m carrying a box of eggs on my head.”
“Okay,” she said, knowing he was cracking stupid jokes to relax her.
Rocco was true to his word. He rode very carefully, only overtaking when there was a lot of space, then quickly diverting onto some quiet back roads. Harper hated the first five minutes, visualizing all kinds of disasters, but after a while, she conceded that it was pretty cool being on the bike, out in the open air, feeling so free and light. But all the time she was intensely aware of Rocco’s closeness, his skin so soft and velvety beneath her fingers, the way his muscles moved beneath his skin. Riding on the bike was strangely lulling. Rhythmic, hypnotic; kind of sexual. Like she wasn’t thinking at all, just enjoying the physical sensations. The powerful engine vibrated beneath her ass, obliterating every other sound, and all she was aware of was the scent of Rocco and the trees and hedgerows, and her hands and arms pressing against his skin. As he came to a stop to allow a deer to cross in front of them, her hands, of their own accord, dropped a good six inches, eager to feel his six pack. And then she snatched them away, horrified. What am I doing? I’m caressing him? It was a reflex action, she told herself. It was just that his stomach felt so familiar. She used to know it better than she knew her own. To her relief, he didn’t give any sign that he’d noticed, but she made a concerted effort to sit back from him, holding her body stiffly.
Before long, he left the road and turned onto a dirt track through some woodland. The surface was bumpier than on the tarmac, and she found herself clinging to him again as the bike went up and down a series of gentle slopes. The trees formed a canopy overhead and she realized she was enjoying hurtling along in the dim forest, the air pleasantly damp.
“Are you okay?” he yelled.
“Yeah!” she yelled back.
“Want to go a little faster?”
“Maybe next time,” she called.
When Rocco swung around a corner and the narrow pass in the rocks that marked the entrance to Broken Hill territory appeared, she was surprised to discover that she was disappointed. She would’ve happily ridden in the woods for another half hour.
The bike came to a stop outside the cabin, and she pulled the helmet off.
“Was that okay?” he asked.
“Yeah. Not as bad as I expected.” She leaned on him heavily as she climbed off.
“Watch your step,” he advised. “Your legs are going to be a little shaky.”
“And how do you know that?” she said, trying to ignore the fact that her muscles currently felt like Jell-o as she swung her r
ight leg over the bike. And then she stumbled as she hit the ground.
“Steady.” He reached out and caught her arm, the roughness of his hand on her flesh startling her. “Because your thighs were gripping me like you wanted to crush the life out of me,” he said with a grin. A flash of heat warmed her cheeks.
“Oops. Sorry. I didn’t realize. Guess I was just a little nervous.”
“You didn’t need to be, Harper. I’d never let anything happen to you.” His voice was husky, and she noticed at the same time that sunlight was threading his eyes, making them a dazzling shade of spring green, and that he hadn’t let go of her arm. His touch was electric, making her skin super-sensitized. Why did he have to be so goddamn handsome? His lips were parted as he watched her, and the memory of kissing them floated up in her mind. His eyes flickered all over her face, assessing her.
“Harper,” he murmured. She sensed his bear, engaging with her own. There was no mistaking the desire in his eyes, the way his features altered very slightly as his bear came closer to the surface, his primal side trying to take over. He’s still attracted to me? she thought. This doesn’t make any sense. Her bear purred, bringing her a step closer to him, near enough to pick up the scent of spearmint gum on his breath. Those lips. No-one kissed like Rocco. Because no-one had such beautiful, firm, pillowy lips. Neither of the men she’d dated since him had turned her on anything like he did. In fact, she’d often wondered if he’d spoiled her for anyone else. He tilted his jaw. Their lips were now six inches apart. She could hear the deep, rumbling purr of his breathing, see his chest rising and falling. His bear wanted to tear her clothes off; she could feel it. And her bear wanted him to take her, to mate her. He leaned closer. His lips brushed hers.
And she took a huge step back, tearing her arm out of his grasp. So what if he wanted her now? He didn’t want her then, and that was all that mattered.
“Thank you for the ride, Rocco. I appreciate it,” she said in a cool, firm voice, and she turned and strode inside without waiting for his reaction.
“Living together has just got ten times harder,” she muttered to herself as she climbed the stairs up to her bedroom.
8
Rocco stood for a full minute, watching Harper’s retreating back, the way her ass moved in her tight black pants, the way her soft navy shirt had ridden up, sexily exposing a few inches of skin. And then he placed the helmet on the ground, started his bike up again, and roared off, heading straight for the mountains. He didn’t know why he’d insisted picking Harper up on his bike, because the truth was that it had been unbearable. The feeling of her arms wrapped around him, her fingertips caressing his skin. Her thighs, gripping him so sexily, and her breasts – pressing against his bare back, only a flimsy layer of a fabric and a bra separating them from him. He’d spent half the journey trying to figure out whether he could make out the points of her nipples, and the other half chastising himself for even having the thought. But it wasn’t his fault. She’d looked so damn sexy when he’d pulled up, casually leaning on her car, the v of her shirt low enough to reveal a whisper of cleavage. Looking at her, being in her presence was pure nostalgia. It felt so right to have her behind him, her body entwined with his, as if the past few years hadn’t happened. He always used to say that one day he’d help her to overcome her fear of motorbikes and they’d go on a road trip together, traveling around the country. She’d raise one of those long, elegant brows and say “ain’t never gonna happen, kiddo,” but there was always a flicker of excitement in her eyes, like a challenge to him. He smiled to himself as he thought about her reaction when she saw that he was on the bike and not in a car, as she’d expected. Same old feisty Harper – all flashing eyes and hands on hips. He loved that she got so hot tempered when she was angry. That she was generous and calm on a day-to-day basis, but didn’t put up with any crap. He’d been acting cool and laid back, but when she climbed onto the bike behind him, wrapping those strong, curvy thighs around his body, he’d been ridiculously excited, his bear scrabbling at his insides.
She was his idea of perfection. She was the one. But she was the one he could never have. His bear let off a roar of misery, and at the last minute he turned off the mountain track and into the forest, wanting the distraction of riding through challenging dirt trails. It had been emotional agony being around her since she’d moved in. His bear wanted her, bad. Every whiff of her incredible, sweet musky scent was intoxicating. And at the same time, he couldn’t stand the fact that she hated him so much. Every so often, he’d see a flash of the real Harper – like when they’d cooked together – and he’d start to think that maybe she was mellowing out. But then she’d shut down again, give him the cold shoulder. And his bear would howl in pain. God, he loved her. He’d tried so hard to forget his feelings over the years, but it was becoming very obvious that they hadn’t changed one bit. No-one could ever compare to her. She was perfect in every way for him.
“I love her!” he said aloud. And at the same moment, his bike went over a rut in the track. He wasn’t paying attention, so lost in thoughts of Harper. It jerked to the right, and by the time he reacted, it was already too late. It went right over the edge of the track, tipped over a sharp ledge, and plunged down into a hollow.
Rocco used every ounce of his strength to tear himself away from the bike as it fell. His back slammed into a tree trunk, but the bike fell away from him and hit the ground a couple of feet away; more than 500 pounds of metal crashing to the forest floor, just missing his foot. The engine cut off automatically and silence descended. He lay dazed for a few seconds, then he blinked up at the canopy of branches that obscured his view of the sky, twisted his neck from side to side, shook each of his limbs, and pulled himself into a sitting position. Nothing hurt too bad, thank goodness. Then he lay back down and laughed his ass off. He loved Harper. He’d never come off his bike in his entire life, despite riding in intensely challenging conditions, and it had happened right now, because he realized that he was still crazily, madly, stupidly in love with her. He always had been, and he always would be. He glanced at the bike. It wasn’t in great shape. He’d be lucky to be able to ride back home. But he didn’t care. He’d just had the most important realization of his entire life. His bear let out a wild, joyous roar, and all those feelings flooded back – the ecstasy of being in a relationship with Harper; the heart-piercing discovery that he had to break up with her; the pain of telling her that he couldn’t be with her any more, and the never-ending pain of not being able to tell her the truth, and having her hate him. The last time he’d been truly happy was when he was 18 years old, he realized. When they were blissfully in love, spending all their time together, and talking endlessly about their dreams for the future. Their cabin, their cubs. The trips they’d take as a family. Ever since then, he hadn’t felt complete. That was why he went off the rails sometimes, and did things that weren’t good for him. He’d been grieving the loss of Harper all that time.
A lump came to his throat as he recalled the day that changed everything – the day he’d had the terrible news from the Oracle. It was his 18th birthday, and, as tradition dictated, his father took him to see her, to discover his future career and who his mate should be. He’d gone there with a light heart, knowing that she’d tell him it was Harper, and then he’d be free to make it official. The Oracle lived in the midst of a craggy mountain range, way up at the top of a steep peak. It was a long journey on foot, and all the way there, he’d been picturing going back home and giving Harper the good news, asking her to be formally mated to him.
Then he and his father went into the cave and met the Oracle, a grizzled old bear shifter, with long, pure white hair and milky eyes. She’d laid her bony, gnarled hand on his chest and spoken the words that would ruin his life:
“That girl. The one you’ve been dating –”
“Yes – Harper!” he’d said, too eagerly.
“You must break up with her. You cannot become mates, because you will expose her to a
deadly risk.” He stared at her in confusion, his breath hitching in his throat.
“What do you mean?” The Oracle fixed her gaze on him, her left eye becoming huge and the milkiness clearing.
“Young man! I do not know what I mean,” she boomed. “The Oracle isn’t a time traveler. She doesn’t look into the future. She receives the words of the deities. And you should be grateful enough for that!” His mouth fell open.
“B-but?” he stammered. “You must be mistaken. Harper is my mate. I’ve known it since the day we met. Everyone knows it. We’re perfect for each other.” The Oracle’s bony index finger shot out and jabbed him in the stomach, as hard as a rod of iron.
“The Oracle is never mistaken. Ignore her pronouncement at your peril. Know this: if you stay with this female, great misery and destruction will come into her life very soon. Her suffering will be on your head.” Rocco took a step back, held his head in his hands. His bear pushed at his skin, its claws trying to force its way out. He wanted to attack the Oracle, force her to take back her words, tell him she’d made a mistake. His father laid a hand on his back.
“Son, the Oracle speaks the truth. We have to respect it,” he said. Rocco lifted his head again and met her ancient gaze. Something flickered in her eyes – pity.
“I’m sorry, Rocco. You’ll grow up to be a strong shifter, and an asset to your clan. You’ll also be an excellent fighter – but that’s in your hands, and will only happen if you find peace in your heart. I hope that gives you some solace at least.” Those gnarled hands reached for his, and it took all of his self control not to wrench his hands away in disgust. Instead he bit down on his tongue to stop his emotions from spilling out.
Bear Cuffs: Bear Shifter Romance (Broken Hill Bears Book 3) Page 5