by Lyz Kelley
And he did, gripping my shoulders and pulling me in, his mouth finding mine. In his arms, I had a taste of what it felt like to be delicate and feminine. I wasn’t ‘big Bailey’. He made me feel beautiful.
“You are beautiful,” he murmured against my lips.
His fingers sidled up my back under my camisole, stroking my bare skin, sending shocks up and down my spine. His mouth skimmed my jaw, then down to the top of my camisole, and I held my breath, heart pounding. His soft, warm lips spiked crazy sensations inside me.
Piran’s hands slid around my rib cage, and his fingers brushed against my breasts. My nipples hardened, almost painfully, and I bit back a gasp. Damn, he moved fast, but I didn’t push him away. I gripped his strong biceps, teetering on the edge of urging him to go further, yet at the same time, uncertain I could handle when to stop…or if.
I wanted him so badly, my thighs clenched.
But maybe this was a good time to find out just how renowned he was, before I got in over my head?
He suddenly dropped his hands to his sides and stepped back, a crease forming between his eyebrows as he gazed down at me. “Have you been with a man before?”
I stiffened, taken aback by his question, and wondering how specific he meant by been with. What was he expecting of me?
“Are you untaken?” Piran asked, his tone guarded.
My nose wrinkled. “That sounds rather old-fashioned, not to mention possessive.”
“Intact,” he offered.
“Uh, not much better.”
I ran a hand through my hair, breaking eye contact. The moment was gone.
Stepping out of the bathroom into the upstairs hallway, I noticed the stain in the carpet where Kelsi had dropped a bottle of nail polish remover. It had bleached the fibers. Dad threw a fit. Mom used it as an excuse to say we needed new carpet. Dad wasn’t ticked enough to agree.
Piran tapped his fingers on the doorframe, and I sighed. Distraction wasn’t going to work, but I didn’t know what to say. In high school, I was a complete disaster with guys. College wasn’t much better. A few boyfriends, only one serious. I lost my virginity in the back seat of a car where it seemed it was over before I even realized it had begun. And it never got better. Just clueless groping and grunting in the dark, leaving me frustrated and wondering if it was my fault.
So, no, I’d never been with a man.
I tugged my camisole back into place and shook off the memories. “Maybe we should go downstairs and watch TV or something.”
“I am sorry, Bailey,” Piran said, his deep voice breaking.
“Yeah, thanks.” But I didn’t need a pity party. I turned to face him.
“You are not interested in me,” he said, staring at his hands, shoulders hunched.
Damn, that wasn’t it. That wasn’t it at all. But no doubt I couldn’t compare to the girls he’d been with before. I wasn’t exactly sexually adventurous. I was a big, tall, athletic tomboy with barely any loss of sheen on my hoo-ha. I blinked away the rapidly forming tears. Hell, no, I wouldn’t cry. Bad enough to be an amateur, but a sniveling amateur?
Piran startled, his face turning red. “No, Bailey … ”
His jaw clenched, and his hands fisted by his sides. Struggling. But with what? He had the advantage. He could read my mind, but I couldn’t read his.
I waited for him to say something more, but he didn’t, and the stone lodged in my chest grew into a boulder. The ring of my cell phone floated up the stairs.
“I should get that,” I mumbled.
He nodded, and I dashed down the stairs and searched for my phone. Finally, I found it on the couch, but I’d missed the call.
Footsteps echoed across the kitchen floor.
“Nick called,” I explained, glancing up at Piran. “I should call him and let him know how I’m doing.”
Piran’s sharp intake of breath echoed across the room. “Certainly. I will leave now.”
He said it with such finality—no room to argue—so I stifled my urge to ask why.
“Goodbye,” I whispered in a daze as he made his way past me. This wasn’t what I wanted, although I didn’t know what I did want.
The front door opened, and a melancholy tinkling from the wind chimes on the porch carried into the kitchen. When the door closed, my shoulders sagged. Had I really lost him because he was ready and I wasn’t? Damn stupid sex-crazed Fae.
I tossed my phone down on the couch, a bitter taste in my mouth. A dark cloud wrapped around my heart, and I curled up on the couch, hugging my knees to my chest.
Who was I kidding? This was as much about me. Afraid to admit my inexperience. Afraid to admit I couldn’t handle the comparisons. So he knew his way around a woman. Isn’t that what I wanted? And he wasn’t with other girls, he was with me.
Arggh. Everything had happened so fast, and now he was gone. All I had to do was call him, yet I clung to a sofa pillow. Humiliation had a way of paralyzing motivation.
The house phone rang, and I dragged myself into the kitchen.
I picked up the receiver. “Hello?” I said dully.
“Bailey,” my coach said, barking my name in his typical curt way. “I wanted to check and see how you were recovering.”
“I’m fine.” I didn’t bother to mention the mild concussion.
“Good, because you’re off the team.”
“Wait …” My heart suddenly went into overdrive. “Wh-Why?”
“I made it clear before. Outside interests lead to a lack of focus, and you definitely lacked focus on Tuesday. You don’t think I noticed your boyfriend at the race and how you kept looking at him? You crashed because you weren’t paying attention. And I can’t have riders on my team who don’t pay attention. They’re a danger to themselves and the other riders.”
I swallowed hard, trying to hold back the tears.
“I’ll need you to turn in your team license.”
And without another word, Coach hung up, before I even had the chance to tell him that Piran was not my boyfriend.
Definitely the worst day of my life.
Teamless. Without a rudder.
If I wanted my place back on Coach Vinson’s team, I had to kill today’s race in the Grand Prix Tour and prove my dedication. No way would I spend the rest of the season racing as an independent, and there wasn’t another women’s team in the Chicago area.
Except–I arrived late to the course in Milwaukee. With all the construction and detours, my GPS was useless, the exits off the highway made no sense at all, and I ended up getting lost in the city. Since Kelsi was at a gallery showing, I had no one else to coerce to accompany me. Mia and Shannon didn’t have room in their car for another rider and bike, and I didn’t bother calling Coach.
Yet another reason I wanted to be on a pro team rather than an amateur team. The support. A secure ride to races and a team van to transport gear and bikes.
Bike frame in hand, I stood in a grassy parking lot, dissing myself for my poor geographical skills. Now I wouldn’t have much time to warm-up, and I learned my lesson on that score. After hoisting my bike’s front wheel from my car hatch, I slid the axle into the fork dropouts and tightened the quick release. Gave the wheel a good spin to make sure it was centered, then adjusted the brakes.
While I pumped up the tires, a surge of pain drilled through my head. Staggering back, I gripped the handle of my car, and within seconds, the pain dissipated. I rolled my shoulders and drew in a deep breath. Just over-stressed and probably dehydrated from the blinding sun, no breeze, and a temp in the high eighties. I took a deep swig from my water bottle, then sent off a text to my mom letting her know I’d arrived safely at the race.
I decided to take a spin around the course to get a feel for the layout. Rounding a turn, I slowed. Just ahead, Mia and Shannon rode with Jose. Something about Mia’s laugh really grated me. Or maybe it was just her. Ever since she’d started placing in the top ten in every race, she’d become such a diva. And I didn’t know wh
at was up with Shannon. We’d always been inseparable at races, now she acted like we’d never been on the same team.
Mia glanced over her shoulder, her oozing smirk matching her overly made up eyes. I mean, who wears make-up when racing? Especially in this heat? She said something to Shannon, and they picked up their pace. I shook my head. I knew the score. Whatever.
Jose lagged behind and veered his bike to ride alongside me. I braced for the usual onslaught of sliminess, but he gave me a sympathetic smile. “You need a new team, chica. I can make that happen.”
I snorted. “Your team doesn’t take female riders, Jose.”
“How about Team Synergy?”
I gasped. My dream professional team. Team Synergy raced in both the U.S. and Europe, and their women riders kicked ass.
“Their director is here today, and I’m tight with him,” Jose boasted. “He’s looking for riders willing to do whatever it takes to win.”
“Whatever it takes,” I repeated, frowning. My fingers clutched the brake levers on my bike. A slight chill lifted the hair on the back of my neck.
“My training regimen will get you there, Bailey.” Jose jutted his chin. “See what it’s done for Mia? She’s a winner now. And remember Chuck Miley? He was on my training regimen last season, and the Proto team signed him.”
I chewed my bottom lip. “What do you get out of all this?”
Jose grinned. “I pick riders who have true potential, turn them into winners, and then hand them over to select pro teams. I get a finder’s fee for every rider.”
“Uh-huh. So what exactly is your training regimen?”
“I thought you’d never ask,” he replied, a glint in his eyes.
I could have sworn his eyes turned black again, but at that moment, the side of my head throbbed like I’d been knifed straight through my ear. The pain left my stomach heaving.
“Hey, you don’t look so good,” Jose said. “You gonna be able to race today?”
I squinted against the sun. “I’d better be able to race if the director from Team Synergy is here.”
“Come with me,” he said. “I can give you something.”
We rode to his team van, and he grabbed an athletic bag from the back of the van. After rummaging through it, he pulled out a small black container and shoved it in the back pocket of his riding jersey.
“Not here, though,” he said, lowering his voice.
I lifted a hand in protest. “No way. I’m not taking any drugs.”
“Keep your voice down. They’re not drugs.” He gestured to the other parking lot. “Where’s your car?”
Another stab of pain shot through my head, and I nearly steered my bike into his.
“For Christ’s sake,” he snapped. “Get off your bike before you crash.”
I leaned over my handlebars, fighting dizziness. “But I have to race in like ten minutes.”
“Get the hell out of here,” Jose growled.
Wow. I never would’ve guessed he cared. Then I realized he wasn’t talking to me.
Piran and his friend Tolmin grabbed Jose by his racing jersey. Held in place, Jose twisted in vain, shouting obscenities that made me cringe, but the two Fae remained unfazed.
When Piran retrieved the black container, Jose’s eyes darkened and sweat dotted his forehead.
“Touch that and you die,” the cyclist hissed.
Piran opened the container and lifted out a medical syringe. A swirling black volcano tore through his eyes. “Dark Fae blood,” he said, his voice like ice.
My heart stopped beating. “I didn’t know,” I whispered. “Honestly, I didn’t.”
Holy shit. Jose wasn’t a dark Fae, he was doping with dark Fae blood! The infusion of dark Fae blood explained his extra strength and stamina in races, not to mention his behavior. No wonder he was such an aggressive perv.
“You missed the start of your race, Meyers,” said a grating voice behind me.
Damn it. No! I turned and glared at Mia. “Apparently, so did you.”
Hands on her hips, she tossed her blonde hair over her shoulder. “I don’t need to race today. Just signed a contract with Team Ibsy this morning.” She noticed Piran and tilted her head. “Hi, I’m Mia,” she said sweetly.
Piran studied her. Her racing suit already unzipped to the danger point, she pushed the zipper down farther. Only Mia would wear a push-up bra when racing. I gritted my teeth but said nothing. I didn’t own Piran. He could make his own decisions.
She gave him a salacious smile, looking him up and down. “Boy, you are fine. How’s about you and me …”
Mia stared at the syringe in Piran’s hand, and her face paled.
“Keep your mouth shut,” Jose warned her. Tolmin’s large hand squeezed Jose’s neck, and the cyclist let out a squawk.
I shook my head. “Mia, I can’t believe you’re doping with dark Fae blood.”
She crossed her arms. “Look who’s talking. Don’t expect us to believe you won that Michigan Avenue race in Chicago without a little help.”
Piran’s harsh gaze turned on me, and a muscle in his jaw twitched.
“I never doped,” I insisted. “Never.”
He returned the syringe to the container and slipped it into his pocket.
“That’s mine, you overgrown fairy,” Jose growled.
“Not anymore,” Tolmin replied. “This is evidence.”
“But you’ll ruin me!”
Tolmin’s smile was thin. “I believe that is the intention.”
Piran and his friend strode away, while I stood frozen, my mind reeling. He thought I cheated. Finally, my brain kicked in, and I ran after them. “Piran, stop! You have to believe me. I had nothing to do with their doping.”
Without slowing, he spoke over his shoulder. “You left your bike with them.”
“I don’t care.” Tears welled in my eyes. I really didn’t care if they jacked my bike. Not when my honor was on the line. Not when Piran believed I would even consider injecting myself with the blood of dark Fae just to win a race.
He whirled on me, and I jerked back and stumbled, falling hard on my butt. No longer could I hold back the tears. Not only was I embarrassed, my damn tailbone hurt. Tolmin reached me first and helped me to my feet. With a sniffle, I managed to shut off the waterworks.
“Do you have any idea how angry I am about your behavior?” Piran demanded.
His eyes flashed like fireworks on the Fourth of July, so yeah, I had a good idea.
“You were in no shape to race today,” he fumed. “When your head hurt, I felt you scream inside. And still, you planned to race. You would risk your health? For what, Bailey?”
Damn it. He was acting all “Guardian” again. Rubbing my backside, I sighed. If only he understood. “I really want to go to nationals and be on a pro team.”
“And Jose?”
“He said he had a training regimen. Honestly, I thought it was like vitamins and protein supplements or something.” I wiped the dampness from my cheeks with the backs of my hands. “You can read my mind. Can’t you tell I’m not lying?”
His eyes narrowed as he regarded me. “I cannot tell if your thoughts are designed to deceive. Truthful thoughts are unguarded thoughts.”
“I wouldn’t deceive you, Piran. My mom, yes. Even Kelsi, sometimes.” Blowing out a breath, I finally met his gaze. “But not you.”
His mouth tightened. He didn’t believe me.
I squeezed my eyes shut. How could I convince him I’d never sell my soul to win a bike race? What did I need to show him in my mind to prove I was telling the truth?
“Stop thinking so hard!”
My eyes flew open, stunned by the gruffness in his voice. For a long moment, we simply stared at each other. Then his stance relaxed.
“Good. I believe you.” He nodded in Mia’s direction. “But not everyone does.”
“I don’t give a crap what she believes. Not anymore.”
Huddled with Jose by his team van, Mia was
screaming at him.
I turned back to Piran. “So what will you do with the dark Fae blood?”
“Turn it in to the authorities and the World Federation of Cycling.” He took my hand in his and caressed my skin with his thumb. His expression softened. “I have been most worried about you.”
“He talks of nothing other than you!” Tolmin interjected. “On the drive here, I cannot make him shut down.”
“Shut up,” Piran said with a faint smile.
Tolmin folded his arms over his barrel chest. “No, I mean shut down. Your mind is Bailey, Bailey, Bailey. Enough!”
Piran’s smile grew into a sheepish grin, and I laughed. His fingers entwined with mine, the softness in his eyes filling me with hope. Maybe I hadn’t lost him after all.
But my heart sank when Coach Vinson’s team van rode past. How could I possibly tell Piran I couldn’t date him?
Chapter 7
At my appointment with the doctor the next day, he laid down the law. No racing for two weeks, which meant I’d miss the rest of the Grand Prix Tour. Damn stupid cleat. My next chance to prove myself wouldn’t be until the Indiana Cycling Classic at the end of the month.
My cell phone chimed with a text message from Shannon asking me to call her. Curious. Why would she want to talk now after avoiding me for weeks? I tapped on her name.
“Bailey,” she said, upon answering. “I am so sorry for what’s been happening.”
“What do you mean?”
“I had no idea it was all lies! Mia and her…goddamn, she is such a bitch. She told me you’d been using performance-enhancing drugs, like anabolic steroids and human growth hormone. She never mentioned doping with dark Fae blood. Oh no. Wouldn’t have wanted to draw attention to what Jose was really selling her. I’m just really sorry I doubted you.”
“Aww, thanks,” I said.
“Well, actually … Honestly, I wouldn’t have dissed you just because of the drugs, but Mia told me you slept with Jose while I was dating him.”
I groaned. Sheesh, I couldn’t think of anyone I’d less want to sleep with. I said as much to Shannon, in a nice way though. No sense in insulting her.