The Sheikh's Secret

by Knight, Kylie

  The leather jacket he'd been wearing was absent, and April was able to see his exposed arms for the first time. They were covered in tattoos, some of them she recognized as gang affiliated, although they weren't tied to the Fullrunners. Soon she saw where the jacket had gone; not far down the path was the unconscious body of the police officer. The jacket had been dropped over his head. He’d tried to get a one up on Byron by impersonating an officer, but that hadn’t worked. She wished she could ask him what had happened, but there was no time to talk; Byron sped out of the park and down the street, not stopping for anything.

  It wasn't until they were back in the garage that he slowed. When the bike pulled into its spot and he parked, he did not dismount right away. Instead, Byron buried his head in his hands and yelled. April, startled, climbed off of the bike and started to back away. As she did, the sound ended. Byron snatched her by the wrist, yanked her forward, and looked into her eyes.

  "I'm going to get them," he promised her. "I'm going to get every single one of those bastards and make sure they're locked up for life."

  "I don't understand," April whispered. There were unshed tears in her eyes. They'd both rode back without a helmet, hers left on the bench in the park, and her hair was windswept and messy. "Are you in a gang, with those tattoos? And why are you taking on a job to protect me when you already have more than enough money? Tell me. Just tell me. You're the only one I can trust, and I know so little about you." She felt weak, but Byron looked as broken as she did. In that moment they shared sorrow.

  "My brother was the visionary," Byron murmured, "the one who build Dectyl Co. up from the ground while I messed up and joined a gang. And it wasn't until the higher ups in my gang extorted him and then killed him for non-compliance that I realized what I'd done. By then, it was too late. I saw every single one of them arrested, but it can never bring Liam back. And when I heard about your case, how you had your brother and boyfriend arrested when you found out about their gang involvement, I know you'd done what Liam should have done to me all those years ago. I knew I had to help protect you. And now here you are, and here I am after almost losing you and breaking the promise I made to you and Liam both."

  April's heart broke for him. A bad boy turned good. He'd turned his back on the darkness and risen to take over in his brother's stead, and beyond that, he kept working to make the world a safer place. Her lips parted just slightly, and Byron noticed. For a moment there was silence, their faces approaching each other, but before their lips could touch, April stopped.

  "I'm fine," she whispered to him. "It's not your fault. And we can work together to make this world safer to live in much better than you could alone."

  She could feel Byron's hot breath and could feel his heavy, masculine aura. One of his calloused hands rose and caught her jawline, and their lips met at long last. There, beneath the dull lights of the parking garage, they kissed. April had never experienced something as beautiful.

  When their lips parted, Byron spoke once more.

  "I never thought you'd be this beautiful, this inspiring. That dry sarcasm, your humor... I sent in the request to be your boyfriend because I figured it would be the easiest way to explain your sudden presence in my life, but now I can't help but feel that it was a sign. I want you, Tristan. I want to keep sharing and laughing and shooting the shit with you."

  Rough around the edges, and yet together. April felt like thousands of balloons rose beneath her feet to support her weight; her head was in the clouds, and her heart soared.

  "It's April Cosden," she whispered. "And my birthday is in July, not November."

  A smile bloomed across Byron's lips, first sweet, then snarky.

  "You're really bad at this Witness Protection bit, you know that? You're not supposed to tell anyone your old identity."

  "I have a feeling you'll keep it a secret," she whispered back. The smile on Byron's face sweetened again, and he drew her chin back to him. Their lips met again, the kiss perfect. When it broke he dismounted from the bike and took her hand in his.

  "I think you can bank on that," he agreed. Together they traveled to the elevator, and amongst a flurry of passion they rose back to the loft. When the doors opened, Byron took her by the hand and led her to the bedroom. April knew now she would not be sleeping in it alone.

  Shoes kicked off, Byron slid the jacket down her arms and let his fingers trail over her skin. His touch sent a shiver down April's spine. In turn, she lifted his shirt up and over his head to reveal his toned chest. Defined abs, pecs, and biceps awaited her. The tattoos rose along each arm to the shoulder and capped there; Byron's chest was unmarred by ink. April let her fingers trail along it, savoring how hard he was. In contrast to her warm, soft body, Byron felt like a perfect fit.

  One by one their garments met the bedroom floor, and they took turns appreciating the other. When they were stripped, Byron lowered April upon the mattress and kissed her deeply again. The stirring between his legs let her know that he found her attractive and desirable, and April's heat told her that this was not too soon. They'd been brought together for a reason, and she wanted to share this most intimate part of herself with him.

  His fingers touched her in ways she'd never been touched before. Each caress was sure and skilled, and April reached pleasures yet to be explored. Those calloused hands traveled across her full, plump breasts and the sensitive buds that topped them. They worshipped her, left her gasping for more. Their lips kissed and brushed, Byron teasing her until she could take it no more. Then his hand dipped south, and April moaned quiet and lofty.

  "Byron," she breathed, feeling her heat spread and pulse. How she wanted him. This bad boy had everything to offer her, and if she could bring joy into his life, she'd stand by him no matter what.

  The finger twirled around her pulsing bud, leaving her painfully slick. Beneath his touch April twisted and arched, but it wasn't until she begged him for more that Byron moved into position between her legs.

  A slight pressure was all she felt before they were joined. Byron moved inside of her as though they'd been made for each other, the coupling smooth and wonderful. Each of his movements sent sparks of pleasure burning through her, stretching from her depths up to her chest to root in her soul. April moaned louder now, rising to meet his rhythm. Byron's firm manhood filled her entirely and hit her in just the right way to curl her toes and tease the air from her lungs.

  "You're so beautiful," he uttered, voice low and dripping with seduction. "I can't believe that you happened to me."

  After years of not being good enough because of her weight and only attracting the interest of men who were bad for her, April had finally found someone she could be proud to call her own. A real man, unafraid of her curves and her attitude. A man who wasn't afraid to be his own person.

  When the first fluttering of release gripped her, April rose up against him and pressed him close. Byron's breathing quickened as he realized what was going on, and she felt his motions grow more frantic. As she released, so too did he. The warmth of his seed flooded her, and April settled down against the mattress to catch her breath. Byron had been fantastic, the best she'd ever had.

  As his body softened, Byron retreated slowly and then laid beside her. With care he drew April into his arms and nuzzled into the crook of her neck, pressing a sweet, possessive kiss there.

  "From here on out," he whispered to her, "I'm going to do everything in my power to protect you. You're too special for me to lose, April Cosden. We'll see every one of those scum behind bars."

  April closed her eyes, letting the afterglow of release wash over her. In that moment everything felt still and perfect, and the masculine smell of Byron's body mixed with the scent of leather that seemed to always cling to his skin set her at ease. This was her new reality. This was her new home.

  "Well, at least we won't have to act too hard at being boyfriend and girlfriend," she said with a little laugh. And Byron laughed, too. For as long as she could she wanted to k
eep hearing that sound.

  An unusual solution to an unusual problem it was, but April knew she couldn't be happier anywhere else. Byron had taught her that taking risks and stepping beyond what was comfortable was how to truly live, and by his side April had a whole lot of living to do.

  THE END

  Billionaire Biker

  Aimee walked down the line of tables in the diner she worked, a half-filled pot of coffee in either hand. One handle was black, the other orange. She smiled to each group of people at the tables, offering to refill any coffee cups she found.

  She was well known in this place, and people were always happy when she came around. Big smiles, big hellos. It didn’t surprise her. She’d gotten used to such welcomes after having worked in this place for so long.

  She grew up in this small town. Hah! Town. If one could call it that. It was a pit-stop on this particular stretch of highway. They had a grocery store, and a mechanic, and a bank, in addition to a few other things, but that was about it. There were RV hookups and mobile home parks around the area off a few side streets, but that was about it. Everyone in this place knew one another. It was like a shared nightmare, and one that Aimee knew from very early on that she’d never escape from it.

  The smile on her face was plastic, the grit from the desert outside stuck to her teeth. Every time she closed her mouth, she crunched on small flecks of dirt from the air. After helping all of those that she could, she replaced the coffee pots back on their burners and picked up her water that she kept under the counter. A quick sip washed the grit from her mouth. The cool water quenched her throat, the cold washing down and splashing into her stomach, spreading out for a moment. It was so hot that the sensation was fleeting at best.

  A car pulled in. It was nice, black, a sedan. The rims damn near sparkled. It was a city car if she ever saw one. The city wasn’t more than fifty miles away, but for Aimee, it may as well have been five-thousand. She’d never been in her life, and didn’t suspect she’d ever get the chance to. She’d been born in this armpit of a town, and as far as she was concerned, she was going to die here. She put on that plastic smile again and grabbed up a few menus.

  “Two of you?” she asked the couple.

  The man and woman smiled at her, the man holding up two fingers to confirm her guess. She held the smile as she guided them to a table.

  Going through the specials were rote. They never changed. There was nothing special about the specials. The roar of a motorcycle pulled her eyes up almost against her will. The beast of a machine billowed black smoke like something out of a hellish novel. Riding atop was the very picture of manly beauty. She’d never had the reaction physically that he gave her. Just looking at him made her heart beat, her head swim, her stomach tighten up.

  She verbally stumbled over the specials as her mind struggled to stay on topic. On a though — any thought! Aimee closed her eyes and shook her head for a second to try and get a clear hold on her thoughts.

  The woman at the table made a disgusted rasping noise in the back of her throat. “I hate those things. Nothing but noise pollution.”

  “And actual pollution, look at that thing. That can’t be legal.”

  Aimee swallowed, trying to regain some semblance of conscious thought, and she pointed across the street with the tip of her pencil. “He’s pulling into the mechanic’s place. Must be something wrong with it.”

  “Well what’s wrong with it is that it’s a motorcycle.”

  The man laughed. “No fixing that.”

  “No there is not.”

  Aimee blew right by the conversation altogether, knowing that she couldn’t believably agree, and disagreeing with them would mess with her tip. “So can I start you off with something to drink?”

  About twenty to thirty minutes went by. The snobby couple had eaten and left. Aimee was back to her water, now a fresh cup, and sipping it gratefully. The leather clad Greek god left the mechanic’s and stopped on the sidewalk. He looked up the street one way, then back down the other.

  “No, don’t come in here,” she said to him, knowing full well no one could hear her. The diner was empty, and she was the only waitress working. If she had to talk to him…

  He smacked his thigh with his skullcap then looked forward at the diner.

  “No,” she breathed. Then, as he crossed the street toward her, she just kept repeating, “No, no, no, no, no, hi there! One today?”

  He wrinkled his nose and looked around, taking in his surroundings before answering her. It was clear from the look on his face that he was less than pleased.

  “Yeah, one,” he said absently.

  When his eyes finally landed on her he stopped and smiled. “Just me,” he added, as though that were necessary.

  Was he looking at her? Like, was he really looking at her? Even just the threat of the possibility made her giggle and she had to hide it by picking up a menu and walking ahead of him.

  Aimee was a larger girl, always had been. It wasn’t something that bothered her. It’s how she was made. Besides, in this middle of this desert there really weren’t many options for jazzercising. To have someone as gorgeous as Mr. Motorcycle even look twice at her was the highlight of her day. Hell, her week.

  After giving him the rundown on the specials, he ordered pie and a coffee. Even though she should’ve left him to eat after dropping off the pie, she couldn’t just let him go that easily. She was never going to see him again, that much was obvious. She’d be damned if she’d just let him walk out of there.

  “Saw you pull up,” she said. “Your bike was spewing quite the cloud there.”

  “Yeah,” he said, shaking his head. “Blew something a few miles back. Just riding along, then bang! I think the mechanic is trying to weasel a bunch of money out of me, but I don’t care. As long as he gets it fixed.”

  “Jimmy? Oh, no, he’s no weasel. We don’t get a lot of repeat business around here, as you might imagine, which makes his reputation even more important.” She laughed. “He’s probably the most honest person in town.”

  Mr. Motorcycle smiled up at her as he sipped his coffee. “That right?” “Well,” she said bashfully, but couldn’t think of anything to say as a follow-up. Suddenly she realized she had no idea what to say next, and the embarrassment was mounting by the half-second.

  “Enjoy your pie,” she said in an attempt to escape the horror of what she’d just done to herself, but he reached out and stopped her.

  All he did was place his index and middle fingers on her wrist, but just his touch was enough to stop her dead in her tracks.

  “What’s your name?” he asked.

  She smiled at him, and there wasn’t an ounce of plastic in it. “Aimee,” she said. “It’s on the nametag.”

  “I know,” he said, “I saw. I just wanted to hear you say it. I’m Xavier.”

  “Wow,” she whispered, then laughed and shook her head. “I mean, that’s cool.”

  “It was nice meeting you, Aimee. Fate, maybe.”

  “Yeah, maybe,” she said, bashfully tucking a bit of hair behind her ear.

  Turning, she walked back to the kitchens to hide her face. She touched her fingers to her cheeks and felt the heat despite the ovens and stoves going off back there.

  What just happened?

  Xavier shuffled papers around on his desk. It was an idle motion and one he had no thought or emotion in. These papers could all just go up in flames for all he cared. He had a business to run, but all he could think about was the adorable waitress from that café.

  Everything about her made him feel alive. He was no stranger to women and the effects they have on a man. Hell, he’d been in plenty of relationships before. Some long, some short. Some really short. Never, though, had a woman made him feel quite like this. It had been such a short conversation with her, but talking to her, hearing her voice, it had made everything settle inside of him.

  He’d never been quite so taken by surprise by a person before. It was alarming, but beauti
ful. In his experience, women were always interested in him just for his money. Sometimes they found him attractive physically as well, which was always nice, but nine times out of ten, when they found out he was a billionaire, that’s when the hot jets flared on. A woman was only unsure about a man until she found out her life would be secure with him, then there go the fires!

  At least that was how it always felt.

  As he always had to do before, Xavier stopped what he was doing and froze his thoughts. That wasn’t fair. He couldn’t compare every woman in the world to one another just because he’d had some bad experience. He was sure, somewhere out there where normal people lived, there were beautiful well-rounded women that accepted a man for who he was regardless of his bank account. Those women existed, he had to insist to himself, regardless if they didn’t exactly exist in his world. It sure would be nice to meet one of them, though.

  Xavier leaned back in his office chair and drummed his fingers along his desk as he stared out the window at the city he basically owned. What if. Those two words were a dangerous thing, but to a business man like him, they were often the spark that ignited great thoughts.

  What if this girl, this Aimee were one of these rare specimens? Perhaps that would explain why everything felt so natural and joyful around this girl? Because she was a natural and joyful person instead of a soul-sucking lifeless demoness from the bowels of…