“Oh,” Miles nodded. “I see.” There was a slight pause as he cast his eyes over the vast array of pins.
“You want to visit a lot of places,” he commented.
“America is a big place,” Brea replied. “And I want to take it all in.”
“You been to many of the places before?”
It was a logical question but Brea couldn’t help but be affronted by it. Sylar had successfully stifled much of her development growing up. She’d never travelled beyond the borders of their small town until recently. Would Miles be deterred by how little she’d seen of the world? His sleeve of naval tattoos hinted at a life spent exploring. Brea envied all the adventures he must have had, all the wonders he must have seen.
“No,” Brea replied curtly, clamoring to her feet and taking the blanket with her to protect her modesty.
“Hey,” Miles followed after her, his tone soft with concern. “I didn’t mean anything by that. I was just asking.”
“No,” Brea stated again, less sternly this time. “I’ve only ever been in my home town and Colridge. My life has been a little…sheltered.” She chose her words carefully for fear of coming across as strange.
“You had strict parents, huh?” Miles gave her a sympathetic smile and then started pulling his pants back on. Brea chewed her lip nervously. It would be so easy to say nothing, to just let Miles think that she was from a family with strict parents. But she wanted there to be no secrets between them. Brea could feel herself falling for Miles and she didn’t want to taint that feeling by lying to him.
“Actually, my parents died when I was twelve.”
“Woah,” Miles paused, only one leg in his pants.
“My…um…” Brea felt nervous beneath the sudden heat of his gaze. He was looking at her like she was some injured little bird who might never fly again. And she wanted him to see that she was still capable of spreading her wings if she wanted to.
“My brother raised me after they died.”
“That’s mighty kind of him,” Miles continued dressing, appeased by her response. “A big task for a young guy to take on.”
“Yeah,” Brea agreed. Gratitude swelled in her chest but it was swiftly countered by crushing feelings of guilt. She’d been so resentful towards Sylar for holding her back, had been so desperate to get away from him, to experience life in a new town. Did he now hate her for leaving? She prayed not.
“He gave up everything to take care of me.”
“He sounds like one hell of a guy.”
“He is,” Brea agreed. “Only…” was she going to sound wretched and ungrateful if she told Miles how stifling living with Sylar had been? How she’d felt she had no choice but to escape his strict regime where she wasn’t even permitted to go into the town to use the library.
Miles gazed at her expectantly, his eyes wide and soft with patience. Brea was astounded by the depth of understanding he displayed. On the outside he was this tough, tattooed guy with mysterious scars but beneath that steely exterior he was as soft and sweet as melted chocolate.
She loved him. In that moment Brea knew it to be true. But she also knew it was too soon to declare such feelings. Clearing her throat she focused instead on discussing Sylar.
“He could be a little over protective,” she admitted, her cheeks flushing with guilt.
“In the end it just got to be too much and I had to leave.”
“I’m sure he just thought he was doing right by you,” Miles offered kindly. “It can’t be easy trying to step in to an adult’s shoes when you’re still just a kid.”
“No,” Brea sighed, “it can’t be.”
“But hey,” Miles came towards her and looped a strong arm across her shoulders, tilting her towards her pinned map of America. “How about one day you get on the back of my motorcycle and we set off across the country visiting all these places you’ve pinned?”
Brea thought how it would feel to ride behind Miles, her arms locked around his waist her hair free and flowing in the wind.
“I’d like that,” she smiled.
“We could do a whole tour,” Miles swept his free hand grandly through the air. “We’ll listen to some real, authentic blues in New Orleans, eat freshly caught lobster in Maine and go whale watching in California.”
“Catch a show in New York, dance in the rain in Chicago and ride a boat down the Mississippi,” Brea said dreamily. She felt like she was describing something that happened in movies. There was no way that could ever actually be her life, could it?
“We’ll do it all,” Miles tenderly kissed her forehead.
“So now you know all about me, you ever going to tell me where you got them scars?” Brea delivered the question as softly as she could and Miles still tensed. He released her from his embrace and headed over to pick his shirt up off the floor and pull it over his head.
“If you don’t want to talk about it, that’s fine,” Brea hastily added.
“No,” Miles sighed. “It’s not that I don’t want to talk about it. Or maybe it is that,” he raked a hand through his hair and shook his head.
“I like being this big, strong guy for you,” he gave her a sexy, lop sided smile. “And some of my stories, well, they risk changing that. And I don’t want that to happen.”
“You could never stop being my big, strong guy,” Brea slunk her way over to him, letting the blanket she’d gathered around herself drop the ground. She was completely naked. Her nipples hardened as she looked at Miles and licked her lips. She saw a ripple of desire run through him.
“You are…” he laughed and grinned to himself. “You are one hell of a girl, you know that?”
Brea smiled sweetly as she kept walking towards him. “You’re one hell of a guy,” she told him softly.
When she was in reach Miles pulled her to him and they started kissing passionately. His tongue pressed against hers as his hands ran the length of her curves. Brea loved kissing Miles. His kisses were always so passionate yet tender. She could get lost in one of his kisses. When he put his lips against hers he could silence all her doubts, all her fears in a single second. All that existed between them was the kiss and the heat of it, burned everything else away.
Miles’ hands ended up in her hair, tumbling through her the dark strands as he drank her in, tasted the depth of her kiss. Brea wanted him. Whenever they kissed she was filled with this powerful desire which she could never fight against. It was as if she was under a spell and all that mattered was being with Miles.
Brea reached out and began to unbutton the pants he’d only just put back on. Miles ceased kissing her briefly to step out of them. He’d not worn boxers that day and was instantly exposed. Brea grinned when she saw how hard he was already. They kissed again, Miles leaning back for the briefest of moments as she hurriedly tugged his t-shirt up over his head. Then their naked bodies were pressed against one another, writhing together as they kissed. Brea could feel herself getting wet. Her entire body began to tremble with expectation. They’d already had sex on her apartment floor that day, her knees still bore the carpet burns to prove it.
This time she wanted to do something different, something daring. She broke the kiss to lead Miles to her window which offered an impressive vista of the rooftops of Colridge. Leaning forward she planted her palms against the glass. Miles groaned approvingly, understanding what she wanted to do. Gripping her hips he entered her from behind. Brea let out a delighted gasp as he pressed her against the glass, the cool of the window pane feeling strangely wonderful against her bare breasts.
Brea climaxed twice against the window. As Miles pulled her away her body had left a sweaty imprint upon it. He maneuvered her towards the sofa, sitting himself down as though he were about to watch television. Brea straddled him but faced away from him. She heard him moan as he slipped inside her. Then she slowly began to tease his dick, rising up and down and arching her back. She could hear Miles’ breath getting quicker along with her own.
“Oh baby,” he cr
ied out, “you feel so good.”
“Do you want to cum for me?” Brea asked seductively as her movements became faster.
“God, yes,” Miles gasped.
Brea raised and lowered her butt as fast as she could, feeling Miles’ entire girth within her. She’d never felt more sexy and more alive than when they were together. He planted his hands upon her shoulders, pushing her down against his dick. Brea squealed out in shocked delight as she climaxed again. As the shudders ran through her body she felt Miles briefly expand within her as he released a contented sigh.
“Wow, Brea,” he gasped as she climbed off his lap. “Just…wow.”
Chapter 21
Brea loved her work. Second to Miles, tattooing was her favorite thing to do. She was bent over her current client, slowly applying an intricate floral design to the lady’s ankle. Only a month after starting at the parlor and Brea had already proven herself enough to be working on her own on a regular basis.
“You’re a natural,” Gina had beamed in approval as she admired Brea’s work. Currently Brea only worked on existing templates within the parlor but soon she hoped to start integrating some of her own designs into rotation. The thought of someone having something she drew herself inked on to their body permanently made her feel giddy with excitement.
“Sounds like it’s all going well,” Sylar had stated flatly when she gushed to him about her job over the phone.
“Oh, it is,” Brea insisted brightly. “Though I miss you, of course.”
“I doubt that you do,” Sylar objected sullenly.
“Of course I do!” Brea cried. “Gina keeps saying that you need to come and visit the parlor again soon.”
“Gina said that?” something lightened in Sylar’s tone.
“Yeah,” Brea smiled to herself. “I think she might have a crush on you.”
“Really?” Sylar cleared his throat. “I mean, it’s no big deal. If I came over to Colridge again it’d be there to see you, not her.”
“Hmm, whatever,” Brea shrugged casually. What was nice about talking to Sylar on the phone since her move to Colridge, was that their calls felt more like the sort of conversations siblings should be having. They were no longer crushed beneath the weight of things unsaid. They were both getting on with their lives but still keeping in touch with each other. It was all very healthy, very normal and it made Brea happy.
She thought about how happy she was with Miles and wished that Sylar could find some of that kind of happiness for himself. During their conversations she’d yet to bring up the fact that she was seeing someone. Sylar had been so understanding about everything so far but she sensed that her suddenly having a boyfriend might be enough to send Sylar off the deep end.
“Baby steps,” Brea kept telling herself.
She’d come this far. She couldn’t help but daydream about going further, about one day riding off in to the sunset on the back of Miles’ motorcycle as they embarked on their whistle stop tour of America together.
Chapter 22
Miles’ hands were slick with grease. The dismantled parts of his motorcycle were scattered around him as if there had been an explosion. His bike was struggling to start. As much as Miles wished he could be spending the day with Brea, he was forced to hang out on the parking lot of the motel, trying to fix his bike.
“You know, son, there’s a right decent mechanic up in town,” an old man commented as he shuffled out towards his pick-up truck, back lit by the morning light as he looked down at Miles.
“Thanks,” Miles smiled kindly at the old man. “But I’d rather try and fix her up myself, save some money.”
“He’s pretty cheap,” the old man insisted. He nodded towards his truck. “I could give you a run down there, pile her up in the back.”
It was such a kind offer, Miles was pained to turn it down. But the second the mechanic took a look at his bike he’d know who Miles was, and more importantly, where he was from. The emblem for the Reapers was etched within the engine’s interior, like a secret brand. Back home, that emblem was all Miles needed to get a free service on his bike. But here in Colridge, if someone saw it they’d likely break his jaw. And the last thing Miles needed was trouble. He was trying to stay in town as long as possible because being in town meant being with Brea. If he stirred up too much noise his Uncle would call him back in a heartbeat.
“That’s might kind but I really can’t put you out like that.” Miles hoped that the old man would accept his refusal and not push him anymore. He gave a sigh of relief when the old man nodding and started sauntering over to his truck.
“Suit yourself,” he called over his shoulder to Miles. “Was just trying to help you out.”
Miles watched the truck sputter out of the parking lot before returning his attention to his bike. He usually found working on it to be therapeutic but currently his mind was as dismantled as the engine around him. He kept thinking about the last time he’d seen Brea, and about what she’d told him about her relationship with her brother. It certainly sounded intense. And Miles couldn’t help but wonder, given their history, why he hadn’t met Brea’s brother yet. Was there more to the story? Would his level of protectiveness threaten Miles’ relationship with Brea?
His hand tightened angrily around the wrench he was holding. Miles realized that he’d be willing to fight for Brea, that her brother wasn’t the only one who felt protective towards her. But perhaps her brother’s feelings were just normal, especially given the extreme circumstances they’d grown up under.
Miles had no siblings. It was just him and his Mom and then it was just him. For the longest time he didn’t think he had any family. He fought for his life on the streets, learning too young how brutal the world can be. He learned how to handle himself in a fight, how to take a punch and more importantly, how to give a good one.
When his Uncle finally found him, Miles must have looked like some sort of wretched street urchin. His clothes and skin were dirtied to beyond recognition. His hair was matted against his head and he stank of dirt, sweat and blood. But beneath all the grime and the pain his Uncle saw Miles. Saw the kind of man he could one day become. Miles had been denied a proper education but he’d learned all the life lessons he needed from living on the streets. But if his Uncle hadn’t found him when he did Miles doubted he could have lasted much longer. His lungs were weak and he had a permanent chill in his bones which felt ready to escalate into something sinister.
Thankfully fate intervened and Miles was saved. His Uncle and the Highway Reapers, became his family. For the first time in so long Miles felt like he belonged. He would do anything for the Reapers, he would defend them with his dying breath. Is that how Brea’s brother felt about her? Miles reasoned it must be and it helped him understand why their relationship was so intense. Without his mother, Miles had nobody. But when Brea lost her parents she did have something, she had her brother. And the love they felt for one another got forged in the fire of that loss. If Brea’s brother hadn’t taken care of her, would Brea have ended up like Miles, living hand to mouth out on the streets? He’d seen what happened to girls who ended up living rough and it was a much crueler fate than what happened to boys. Miles was grateful that Brea’s brother had saved her like he did. And one day he’d tell him that to his face and shake his hand.
Gunning the engine of his bike Miles grinned with satisfaction when she sputtered and then finally came to life. One of his misjudged attempts to get the motorcycle running again must have worked. Standing up he wiped down his hands with an old rag and began gathering his tools back up. With the bike repaired it meant that he could go in to the town and see Brea. His day just kept getting better and better.
Chapter 23
Brea was drawing a fairy. But not the happy kind like you find in fairytales. No, this fairy was very much broken because even in a world with magic everything isn’t perfect. Brea used long, sweeping strokes of her pencil to create the wings which were wilted with sadness. The fairy herself was
sat with her head bent against her knees which were drawn up tightly to her chest. Her pretty floral dress was tattered and soiled as it spilled on the ground around her. The image was as beautiful as it was sad.
When Brea was satisfied that she was finished, she took a deep breath and went to approach Gina in the break room.
Gina was laughing at something on the television, two hands cupped around a hot cup of black coffee. She looked up when Brea walked in, the smile remaining on her lips.
“Gina, hey,” Brea nervously kept her sketch pad to her chest as she entered the small room which smelt of stale coffee and pop tarts.
“Hey, sweetie,” Gina grinned. Her smile widened as she clocked the sketch book Brea was pressing against her chest like a shield. “You got something to show me there?”
Miles (Highway Reapers MC): Inked Hearts Page 6