by Kim Amos
“So let’s make that a reality at our dealership.”
“How do you mean?” he asked, reaching down and turning off the engine.
Audrey lifted her helmet off so she could see Kieran fully. “We’re ignoring fifty percent of the population. We’ve got to target females as a demographic. I mean, think about the clothes we carry. The items for women are ridiculous—that stupid bustier you make me wear, for example. Those clothes aren’t functional. You said so yourself. Think about if we actually sold clothes that made women feel sexy and tough and safe. And statistics say that a lot of women earn more than men these days. There’s big potential for them as buyers.”
She paused to take a breath. Kieran was watching her, the lines around his eyes crinkling. “You’ve spent some time thinking about this.”
Audrey shrugged. “I have lots of time to think when I’m just sitting there, modeling the bikes. And I can only watch women walk out on us so many times.”
“I didn’t realize it was such a pressing problem.”
“Maybe you just don’t have the right lens,” Audrey replied.
She expected him to tell her they’d talk about it tomorrow, back at the dealership, but instead he was just staring at her. His jaw flexed. His gaze grew intense.
“You think of others all the time,” he said after a moment. “Who you can help, what you can do.” He reached out and took the helmet from her hands, then hung it from the handlebars. “You’re always trying to make things better.” His throat worked, and Audrey watched the movement, mesmerized. Was Kieran getting emotional about all this?
She straightened. Surely not. Or, if he was, it was over the dealership, not her.
He reached out and touched her face, and she drew in a breath. Every nerve ending in her body ignited not from his touch, but from the impassioned look on his face.
“Audrey,” he said gently, “I can’t—” He broke off, shaking his head.
He was about to pull his hand away from her face, but she grasped it before he could move. Her pulse raced, and she could hear the alarms in her brain again, cautioning her that she wasn’t being careful enough. That her heart might rupture with emotion for Kieran at any minute.
I will not let that happen, she thought, turning over his hand. She stared at the intersecting lines on his smooth, white palm, wishing she were a gypsy and could tell the future from the crisscrossed marks. Instead, she brought his palm to her lips, kissing the skin gently. She inhaled, taking in his leather-and-spice smell. She clung to his hand, kissing it repeatedly, working her way from his palm to his fingertips, taking note of how his body had gone rigid, how his breath had turned ragged.
“Audrey.” It sounded like a plea. But whether for her to keep going or to stop, she wasn’t sure. “Sweetheart.”
At the sound of the endearment, her mouth stopped. Her eyes flew to his. He had never called her anything before except her name.
The pained look etched onto his face had her insides plummeting. What in the world could be causing him such distress? How could he look so passionate and so heartbroken at the same time?
She clutched his hand. Oh, there were depths to this man. It was such a shame he hadn’t trusted her with those depths five years ago. Maybe things would be different now if he had. Instead, Audrey was facing him on the blacktop, not pulling him into her arms even as she longed to. Her body stilled, resisting the urge to grab him and never let go.
As it turned out, Kieran had the opposite idea.
Lifting her off the bike, he crushed her to his broad chest, her name a coarse whisper on his lips. He kissed her hair, her forehead, then found her mouth with an intensity that made her weak-kneed.
His wide mouth captured hers as he plunged a hand into her hair, tilting her head back until their lips were perfectly aligned. Hunger flared inside of her at his touch, and she opened to him, letting his tongue explore, letting his free hand unzip her coat and remove the layers of clothing between them.
She was seeing spots behind her eyelids—great bursts of desire that exploded when he nibbled on her lower lip, or when she wrapped her arms around his neck and he groaned in the most exquisite way.
Fire heated the space between her legs. But, more alarmingly, an ache began to spread through her chest. It pressed against her sternum and wouldn’t relent. It was the pang of wanting more. Wanting more from Kieran than just his body. Heaven help her, she wanted to hear about his life and his likes and his experiences in Southie and what other poems he’d memorized. She wanted to know him, and not just physically. She wanted all the things she never got five years ago, because he fled.
But I can’t have those things, she reminded herself, trying to diffuse the pain in her chest. He was never going to be the guy who let her in for long, who stuck around so that something lasting could grow out of their time together.
And he’s going to leave this time, too, she reminded herself sternly.
She looked down. Her coat was in a heap at her feet. Kieran had his hands under the cotton of her long-sleeved T-shirt, working his way up her sides, stopping just underneath her bra. His thumbs arced over the delicate lace there, and she sucked in a breath as his strong, calloused fingers brushed her nipples. He grasped the tips of her breasts, worrying her flesh gently, sweetly. She saw stars and grabbed his body so she wouldn’t topple over. She threw her head back and said his name. “Kieran.”
His mouth found her exposed neck. His tongue licked her from clavicle to ear in a delicious, hungry motion.
“I love it when you say my name,” he growled. Pushing up her shirt, he bent down to suck on her through the lace of her bra. He nipped the end of her breast, pulling it between his teeth. It was a mix of gentleness and pain that scrambled her brain. She couldn’t think straight.
She reached down and placed her hands in the thickness of his hair. She grasped the sides of his head and tilted his face to hers. His expression was one of both pain and desire. She licked her lips.
Kieran stood slowly. He towered above her, his body coiled with an energy she couldn’t quite read. “I don’t think I can stop myself if we go much further.”
Her body hummed. She nodded. He was right: They should stop everything right now and end this. Walk away.
But instead of saying or doing any of that, she watched her fingers assume a power of their own and land delicately on his groin. His rock-hard penis was right there on the other side of his jeans. She gasped at the way it jumped at her touch.
An animalistic sound escaped him. Audrey pulled off her long-sleeved shirt so that she was standing on the blacktop in her jeans and bra. The breeze was cool on her skin. She watched Kieran take her in, his green eyes dark with hunger.
“What are you doing?”
She barely knew herself. Going this far was a mistake. And yet she was powerless against her desire for him.
She grasped his leather jacket and peeled it off his body. Next came his shirt, so that his strong, muscled chest was exposed to the afternoon sun.
“Audrey, wait. I can’t—”
She ignored him and palmed her way over his pectoral muscles, feeling his downy dark-red chest hair against her hands. She kissed his smooth skin, circled his broad shoulders with her arms and pulled him close.
She licked him, so hungry for his body she wanted to bite and taste him for hours. She stroked her tongue over his bare chest again. He shuddered.
She licked again, flickering her tongue, imagining herself a serpent. The snake of temptation. He groaned deep in his throat.
She licked again, once more, and he broke.
She could feel the river of it washing over her, the current of it sweeping them both away. It was his resolve, she realized. Whatever had been holding him back was gone. Whatever walls of resistance he’d built, she’d successfully pulled them down.
His mouth came down on hers so violently she lost her breath. He captured the sound, not letting it escape. His hunger was a heat, flaming through them both.
“Not here,” Kieran said, breaking the kiss to lift her into his arms. She twined her arms around his neck, savoring the feel of his flesh against hers, of how easily he carried her to the grassy bank leading down to the river. His body was taut and corded. His pace was brisk enough to make her wonder if he wanted to take her before he could change his mind.
A few steps down, off the pavement, the tall prairie grasses would shield them from any prying eyes. The only clues to their existence would be their piles of clothes next to the motorcycle, but Audrey hardly cared.
He placed her roughly on the riverbank’s green carpet, following immediately with his own powerful body. There was a rock digging into her backside, and a twig near her head. She paid them no mind as Kieran kneed apart her legs and shoved his massive form between them. Through his jeans, his erection pressed against her flesh. She clutched his shoulders and drew him closer. If he thought he was being rough—being hasty, even—then she would show him she didn’t mind. She kissed him eagerly, lifting her hips against his.
“I need you.” The way Kieran hissed the words, she wasn’t sure if it was an oath or a curse. He matched her hunger with his own, tearing his lips from hers so he could bite her neck, her clavicle. The little nips of pain were delicious, leaving her crying out for more. He lowered himself to her breasts, unlatching her bra with one deft motion. He tossed the fabric aside and palmed one nipple while taking the other rosy tip in his mouth.
He was not gentle.
Thank goodness, because she did not want him to be.
Audrey cried out as the electric pleasure of his rough mouth coursed through her. He responded by suckling harder, biting her when her fingernails raked across his back.
She gasped with pleasure as he took off his own pants and then tore off—literally—her panties. She was wet and already craving him in her deepest parts. He was on his knees between her bare legs, and she had a clear view of his raging member, thicker and harder than she ever remembered. It stood erect, straight and true, from a bed of dark red curls. A thrill raced through her. She felt her lips part in a delicious smile.
There would be no slow, gentle reconnection. There would be no sweet lovemaking. If ever she’d wanted him to take her, she was going to get her wish.
Kieran was watching her watch him. His eyes were dark, his lips slightly parted. His skin rippled over muscles drawn tight with desire. He placed one hand on either side of her head, then lowered himself, grinding his body into hers. Audrey gasped as the tip of his cock found her wet, aching center. She was feverish, shaking like an addict who needed a hit. Kieran was her drug, and she wanted the high he would bring her.
He claimed her mouth, his tongue fierce and hot. She wrapped her legs around him, drawing him closer. “Now,” she whispered into his ear, wanting him to fill her up until all she felt was him. The tip of his shaft spasmed against her center, and she felt it so deeply she arched against him.
He answered her call, grasping her buttocks and entering her with a force that had her seeing stars of pain and pleasure. The sound that emitted from her throat was so primitive, so visceral, that she wondered if she had transformed into some kind of animal, taking a mate on the forest floor. In that moment, she was carnal and she was spiritual; she was broken and she was whole; she was past and she was present.
She thought she could feel him in every cell. He was everywhere inside her, and unyielding on top of her. His body pressed down on her, while his thickness stretched her to the point of breaking. She let her legs fall to the side, surrendering to the length of him, willing her body not to fight his thrusts.
The hot pain receded quickly, replaced by a sensation that built at the base of her spine. She writhed against him, demanded everything from his flesh. If part of her had wondered if she’d find tenderness when their bodies met, she buried it now. She was getting what she wanted.
It would be plenty.
Kieran’s mouth was on hers again, his lips demanding as much from her as she was taking from him. She twisted her hands in his hair, pulled him closer still, daring him to give her more. Her tongue met his, stroke for stroke, her hips met his thrusts every time.
Kieran’s fingers dug into her bottom, pulling her against him until he was fully buried. He held her tight as he thrust still more, penetrating her even while he was engulfed to the hilt. She had never been so thoroughly consumed before in her life. Audrey’s fingers raked wildly along his back, driving him deeper, crying out for every last ounce of him.
He gave it to her. His movements were so strong, so ferocious, that they unleashed the ocean of pleasure that had been pooling at her spine. It roared through her with tsunami-like force, drenching her in glittered ecstasy. She was drowning in it. She howled, carnal and wild, and didn’t even care. As her orgasm broke, Kieran redoubled his efforts, riding her hard, unforgivingly. His own pleasure erupted moments later, the volcanic heat of it spilling through them both.
As Kieran’s body stilled, Audrey found herself relaxing. Her desire was slaked, her hunger fulfilled. Her thoughts were clearer now, less like typewriter keys clanking out incessant ideas and more like bits of paper floating on water. She inhaled deeply.
She’d forgotten how life-altering great sex could be. Even rough sex. Maybe even especially rough sex. She smiled to herself, thinking it would be fun to plan this again. Maybe with more candles and fewer rocks, like the one digging into her scapula right this minute. She shifted underneath Kieran, wondering if she should ask him if she could sit up. But he rolled off her before she could get the words out.
She was relaxed, buzzed with pleasure, and expected Kieran to be the same. But the way he hastily pulled on his pants and wouldn’t look at her spoke of regret, not satisfaction. When his eyes finally found hers, she saw sorrow, not contentment.
Her happiness unfurled into confusion. Did even just fucking her make him sad? Did everything about bringing her pleasure make him remorseful?
“What?” she asked, grabbing at her bra and torn panties. “What is that look?”
“I’m sorry,” he said, running a hand through his dark-flamed hair. “I didn’t mean for that to happen. I should have—I wasn’t—I’m sorry.”
Her mind reeled. Was he seriously sorry already? Before, he’d at least waited a few hours before walking out on her. Now, it would be instantaneous.
She stood. She’d told herself this could happen. She’d told herself that Kieran Callaghan was exactly this man. This was hardly a surprise. She steeled herself against any part of her mind that wanted to think otherwise.
“Be sorry all you want,” she said coolly. “I got what I came for.” Snapping on her bra, she walked boldly back into the parking lot. She could hear Kieran rustling through the grasses behind her.
“Audrey, you misunderstand me,” he said as she strode toward her pile of clothes.
“Oh, no, I think I absolutely understand you, Kieran,” she said, pulling on her jeans and tucking her ruined underwear into a pocket. “I think we’re pretty much crystal clear at this point. So why you’re sitting there with a hangdog look is beyond me. You don’t owe me anything. I don’t need anything more than what you just gave me. So, really, thank you.”
Kieran shook his head. He gazed past her, to the rustling tree line and the cold river, and took a deep breath. “Audrey, I told myself I wouldn’t do this. I don’t regret being with you, but I do regret that it happened without you knowing the truth.”
She blinked. “What truth?”
“The truth about what really happened five years ago.”
What happened was he left, plain and simple. What more could there be?
“I want to tell you what really went down when we first met,” he continued. “I want us to have a chance, if it’s not too late. And in order for that to happen, I have to tell you about the past.”
“A chance?” Audrey faltered. Her insides twisted. Was Kieran actually talking about them being together in the present tense? She mu
st have heard him wrong. “I don’t follow.”
“I mean I care for you, Audrey. But for us to have a shot, I need to talk about what happened. I want you to have the full picture—the true picture—of what occurred after we got together.”
A buzzing started in Audrey’s brain. A tide of emotions wanted to burst forth inside her. Surprise. Hope. And skepticism, too. They were all rolling together into one mass that was pressing against her heart. Vaguely, she was aware of Kieran saying her name, staring at her with concern.
“You want to be with me?” she finally managed to ask.
“Very much.”
Affection swelled, but she pinned it back. “But you have to tell me something in order for that to happen?”
Kieran nodded. “And I have to warn you, it won’t be pleasant to hear.”
Audrey’s throat felt suddenly scratchy. She wanted water. She swallowed.
Kieran watched her, his pale green eyes never leaving her face. Her mind raced under his gaze. He wanted her to hear his confession.
So that they could be together.
Confusion darkened her vision. The only question was: Did she want to be with him?
She still felt dizzy from their sizzling sex, the exquisite release he’d given her. But her jumbled emotions signaled a warning that anything more than a spicy romp in the grass was a bad idea. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if he just kept his secret and they stayed friends of a sort. Or colleagues. Dread chilled her as she wondered what he could possibly have to say.
Should she really give Kieran Callaghan her ear? Five years ago, she’d given him everything. And he’d ridden away without a glance backward.
Now, he was asking her to risk her heart again.
“I—I’m not sure this is a good idea,” she whispered.
“It may not be, but I can’t think of another way.” Kieran’s muscles were taut with tension just under his skin.
“I think you should take me home.” She held out her hand for her coat. He handed it over slowly.
She shrugged into it, ignoring the hurt creasing his face.