Broken: Boxed Set

by Wilde, Leah

  Paris

  I could barely see straight after taking that godawful shot with nothing afterwards to wash the taste away. Matter of fact, there wasn’t a chaser in sight. I had no choice but to suffer and cough while the whiskey burned a hole in the back of my throat and the pit of my stomach.

  I tried not to make a big scene, but I could see Micah laughing at me as I hacked into the crook of my elbow. His eyes were dancing, lit up like the Fourth of July between the reflections from the lights strung around the room and something deeper, something that came from inside him.

  I didn’t know what to make of him. He had swept in like a force of nature, and even though he hadn’t said much, I felt like he had this crazy aura that just extended out from the middle of him and snatched me up like a wave at the beach.

  Part of it was due to the fact that he was so comfortable, whereas I was still reeling from all the craziness unfolding everywhere I looked. From the second that Katy and I had walked in the door with Hawk, it had been one jaw-dropping scene after another. Bikers studded with metal piercings and covered in tattoos from head to toe, more variations of leather jackets and heavy, steel-toed boots than I knew were possible—the room just went on and on, each square foot filled with another grizzly man or badass biker chick who looked like she could chew me up and spit me out without a second thought.

  As soon as we’d entered, I’d looked down at myself and felt out of place. Still, I had to admit that Katy had done a magical job at making me look like I belonged here. I was wearing skintight leather pants she’d fished out of the nether regions of my closet, along with sharp stiletto heels. That was all well and good, if a little ridiculous, but what really set the whole thing off was the top she’d chosen. When she first held it up, I immediately told her, “Not a chance.”

  “C’mon,” she’d pleaded, giving me the puppy dog eyes that worked so well on every single member of the opposite gender. “You’re gonna make chins hit the floor as soon as you step into that place, I’m telling you.”

  “I don’t care; there’s no way you’re convincing me to wear that. For God’s sake, it doesn’t even have a back!”

  “I know!” she squealed. “It’s so hot!”

  I’d been adamant, as firm and stubborn as I knew how to be. And, as luck would have it, I’d ended up wearing the damn thing anyway.

  No back on the shirt meant no bra, so all I had to cover me up was this thin, sparkling material. One errant swipe might’ve whisked the whole thing off of me in a single go. Looking around, there were plenty of men here capable of doing something like that. A few women, too.

  But if I felt naked in my clothes before, then I didn’t even know how to describe the way I felt as soon as Micah had strolled up. Strolled might not have been the best word for it. He was casual, as calm and collected as anyone had ever been, but it was in a controlled kind of way, like he was a panther on the prowl. Ready to pounce at any moment. On me.

  I wiped a tear away from my eye. “I’m sorry,” I said, setting the glass back on the bar top. “I’m not much of a drinker.”

  Micah’s smile broadened another little bit. “Not to worry. There are enough drunk assholes at this party already. No need to throw yourself into that category.”

  “Are you one of those drunk assholes?” Katy asked pointedly.

  I wanted to smack her. My whole face turned a burning red immediately and I had to squeeze a fist to stop myself from lashing out at her right away. Instead, I snuck my hand behind her so Micah couldn’t see. “Shut up,” I hissed out of the corner of my mouth as I gave her a vicious pinch on the ass.

  She yelped and gave me an innocent look. “What?” she protested. “It’s a fair question!”

  Micah laughed. “It’s fine,” he told me. “She’s right; it is a fair question.”

  Katy crossed her arms and looked at me triumphantly. “See? Told you.”

  I swallowed the embarrassed lump in my throat and tried to smile. It felt forced and awkward. I didn’t know what was happening in me. Well, I did and I didn’t at the same time. The cause was obvious. He was standing in front of me, all six and a half feet of him, chiseled out of bronze marble and with a wickedly handsome smile. But as far as the effect he was having on my stomach and between my legs, that was very new indeed.

  “I never got your name, by the way,” he said coolly.

  “I’m Katy,” she answered. She still had her sass on full blast. I knew she was just trying to be protective, especially given how uncomfortable I’d been since the second we’d arrived. But this was different. Without any proof whatsoever, I felt like we could trust Micah. Like I’d be safe with him. It was a silly thought, maybe even just the alcohol talking, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that he was capable of devouring me without hurting me at all. Yep, definitely the alcohol.

  “Well, Katy,” he rumbled, “to answer your question, there are, like I said, many drunk assholes in here. I’m certainly an asshole. But, the numerous shots I’ve had notwithstanding, I’m far from drunk. Sober enough to drive. To race, even. As a matter of fact, why don’t you let me take your friend here for a spin on my bike? Paris, what do you think?”

  His attention swung to me before I was even close to ready. I panicked. Where was my voice? Why couldn’t I talk? Words, Paris, words! Use them! I screamed internally. “Um…well, uh, if you’re sure,” I mumbled. I didn’t understand why my tongue felt so thick and useless. It was like the disaster at the park with Craig all over again. My life was apparently becoming some sick rendition of Groundhog Day. Maybe I had died without knowing it and now I was stuck in some hellish purgatory where I had to stumble through awkward, embarrassing encounters with beautiful men over and over again. I couldn’t find any evidence to dispute it.

  “I’m always sure,” he said. And damn, I really believed him. Being unsure didn’t seem like it was even a remote possibility for Micah Youngblood. I nodded hesitantly.

  “Perfect. Come on, I’ll show you my ride.”

  “Wait,” Katy said.

  Micah paused with one eyebrow raised. He looked startled for a moment at how forward she was, but then he relaxed and shook his head, like he didn’t even believe that he’d listened to her command.

  Katy grabbed me by the shoulder and leaned over to whisper in my ear. “Are you okay?” she asked.

  To be fair, I had no clue what was going on with me. But it seemed like the only thing to do was say yes and let myself be pushed and pulled in whatever direction the universe happened to have in store for me this evening. Right now, that seemed to be with Micah. I swallowed and nodded hesitantly.

  “We can get out of here if you’re uncomfortable,” she said. She leaned back and looked me in the face, examining me for signs of uncertainty.

  “I don’t know,” I said, biting my lip. “What do you think?” I snuck a glance at Micah and noticed that he was leaning back against the bar, intently watching us whisper back and forth.

  “Well, for starters, he’s hot as hell.”

  I giggled nervously.

  “And what’s the harm in a bike ride? It’ll be fun. He seems trustworthy and sober. I think you should do it.”

  “Are you sure?” I asked. I was putting all my trust in her to be the voice of reason. Knowing Katy and how reckless she could be at times, that might have been a mistake, but all my senses seemed to have abandoned me completely.

  “Look, Paris,” she said. She squeezed my hand in hers. “You never take risks like this. Your dad isn’t here to tell you no. I say you should go for it. Live on the wild side.” She jerked her head at Micah. “And what’s more wild than a ride with a sexy biker? Besides,” she added in a sarcastic drawl, “it’s not like you have to sleep with him.”

  I nodded again. “Just the ride.”

  “Just the ride,” she confirmed. There was a tone to her voice that made me think she had no intentions of letting me stop at just the ride, but before I could ask her what exactly she had in mind for me, Micah l
eaned back towards us.

  “Everything alright, ladies?” he asked.

  “Just peachy,” Katy shot back right away. “Paris is excited. Which way’s your bike?”

  He straightened upright and cracked his knuckles. “This way,” he said.

  “Excellent. Paris, we’ll see you in a little bit. Have fun, you wild child.” She winked. “Hawk, let’s go find a drink.” Without waiting to say goodbye, they zipped off into the crowd.

  Then I was alone with Micah.

  He smiled at me again. I’d never known why girls in the movies always seemed to swoon when the handsome hero gave them a grin. But when Micah did it, I suddenly understood. I felt a rush of blood to my head and I got a little wobbly. I wanted to blame the liquor, but I knew what—or rather, who—was really in charge here.

  He put his hand on the small of my back again and steered me towards the exit. As we pushed through the crowd, him guiding me around clusters of drunk Darkness members and their groupies, I could only focus on the heat of his touch. It seemed like it was spreading from the actual points of contact to cover my entire body in one big sheet of fiery goodness. I felt hot and cold and hot again. My body was going haywire. The mission control in my nervous system had completely abandoned its post, and now I didn’t know what to do with myself. Had my hands always felt this heavy and weird? Had my feet always been so hard to pick up and move?

  Snap out of it, Paris. Stop acting like such a clown. He’s just a man. Yes, he was just a man, but he was unlike any man I’d ever seen before. To use one of Katy’s favorite phrases, I needed to get my shit together.

  The cool air of the night outside hitting my face brought me back to earth a little bit. I felt my pulse settle down a notch and my throat open up to let normal-sized breaths in for the first time since Micah had barged into my life.

  “What a night for a ride,” he said. “Come on, I’m right over here.” He let his hand fall from my back. I was surprised by how much I missed it right away.

  We turned a corner and there it was—a gleaming, intimidating hunk of intricately worked metal that looked capable of fighting a war or maybe even taking off into space, depending on the skill of the person riding it. Judging by how Micah walked over and began expertly flicking switches, I had no doubt that he could make the motorcycle do anything he wanted.

  I stood a few feet away, looking at him as he checked a few things on the underside of the engine. I glanced back at the party. Lights poured from the windows. The muffled groan of music and voices battling it out in the crowded building seeped through into the night.

  “Do you always chew your nails when you’re nervous?”

  I whipped my head back around. Micah was leaning back on the seat of the bike, arms crossed, looking at me with an amused expression on his face. I hadn’t even noticed that I’d started chewing my nails again. In fact, I’d been doing everything in my power not to succumb to the awful habit in Micah’s presence. But apparently, this awkward purgatory wasn’t yet over, so he’d caught me in the act yet again.

  I dropped my hand from my mouth and blushed. “It’s the worst habit,” I said.

  “It’s cute.” He laughed. “C’mere, I’ll help you on. It’s a big seat for a little girl like you.” The way he said little girl sent a flash of heat between my legs. Maybe I was imagining things, but he’d said it almost hungrily, the way someone might look at a steak and call it juicy. But why on earth was that a turn on?

  I crossed the distance to him and took the hand he held outstretched. “Put one foot here,” he said, pointing at the peg on the lower part of the bike. I balanced on it as best as I could in my mile-high stilettos and carefully swung my other leg around. My butt found the leather seat. Micah climbed on gracefully in front of me.

  “You ready?” he asked over his shoulder.

  I nodded, then realized that he wouldn’t be able to see me. “Yes,” I called through a raspy throat. “Ready.”

  He turned the bike on. It came roaring to life between my legs. The engine growled like a massive monster, snarling, spitting heat and vibrations out in every direction. Compared to it, I felt small and fragile. But somehow, Micah seemed even more comfortable in its presence. Instead of shrinking him, it made him seem bigger, more powerful. It fit him.

  I shivered. The thoughts running through my head made no sense and yet I couldn’t do anything to stop them. Wild, unbidden thoughts came one after another without pause. Micah touching me. Micah kissing me. Micah slowly peeling my jeans down my hips as I lay on my back in front of him.

  The sudden jolt of motion brought me back to reality. Micah had pressed the clutch and rolled quickly onto the throttle. The bike shot out from the sidewalk onto the asphalt. It took me by surprise. My hands flailed in the air. I felt myself tipping backwards, my center of gravity sending me over the rear of the bike. Just before I completely lost balance, I found a grip on Micah’s leather jacket. I pulled myself upright.

  What was that bouncing in his back? Oh, he was laughing at me. “Hold onto me,” he said over the low growl of the motor. “Put your hands on my sides.”

  I couldn’t believe that I’d almost been tossed off the bike just seconds after we started moving. I put my hands on either side of his torso. Through the slick leather jacket and the t-shirt he wore underneath, I could feel his muscles flexing as we took every little bump in the road. The smooth hills of his abs were hard beneath my fingertips. He must be absolutely ripped. Of course, I thought to myself sarcastically, just what he needed: another element to add to his perfection.

  We picked up speed and I found myself clinging tighter to him. The wind whipped by. It blew my hair out behind me and tugged at my clothes with sneaky little fingers. As scared as I was, though, there was a little part of me that was loving the sensation of the vibrating motorcycle between my legs and the solid, unyielding muscles of the man in front of me. It settled into my bones in a way that just felt right.

  We snaked down a quiet side street and then emerged onto a long avenue free of any traffic in either direction. Micah brought the bike to a smooth stop in the middle of the blacktop. He twisted around to look back at me.

  “How was that?” he asked.

  “Okay,” I said with a hint of uncertainty in my voice.

  “Well, that was just the warm-up. Now we can really have some fun. Are you up for it?”

  I wanted to bite my nails, but I forced myself to keep my hands on his sides. Touching his abs wasn’t such a bad alternative. “I guess,” I said.

  He could tell I was fearful. I expected him to make fun of me, to tease at how clearly afraid I was of this powerful machine and its mysterious, cocky rider. But he surprised me. His face looked somber and deadly serious. “Don’t worry,” he said. “I’ll never let you fall.”

  He gazed at me after he stopped talking. His words hung between us in the quiet night. His face was a foot away from mine, maybe less. For one crazy second, I thought he might kiss me. I wasn’t sure yet what I’d do if he tried.

  But he left that question unanswered. He turned back around to face forward and revved the engine a couple times. It thundered down the empty avenue. Then, he let go of the clutch as he yanked back hard on the accelerator. We took off like we were shot out of a cannon.

  The night was flying past me on either side. Buildings and transmission lines looked like blurs. My eyes were tearing up from the wind. In front of me, Micah let loose a wild, delirious howl. I wanted to laugh and scream at the same time. Instead, I did neither. I just held on for dear life.

  “Do you trust me?” he roared over the deafening engine.

  “What?” I yelled back.

  “I asked if you trust me!”

  “I just met you!”

  “You either do or you don’t!”

  I hesitated. I’d barely known this man for a few minutes, and yet here I was, desperately hanging onto him as we rocketed down the street at over a hundred miles an hour, if the speedometer was to be relied up
on. But he was right. You either do or you don’t. I knew which one it was.

  “Yes!” I yelled. “I trust you!”

  His entire frame tensed beneath me. I didn’t know what the hell he was about to do, when all of the sudden he jerked back. The front wheel came off the ground. I couldn’t even scream anymore. This situation had gone from ridiculous to flat out unreasonable. There was no possible way I could be awake. I was either dreaming or in a coma or dead, and this was all a figment of my imagination. It just defied common sense to think that I could ever be on the back of a motorcycle with a stranger, doing a wheelie at top speed at midnight. No way. Paris Jenison would never be here.

  But I was.

  # # #

  The silence when Micah cut off the engine was weird. The sound had worked its way so deeply into my eardrums during our short ride that I’d completely forgotten what it was like to not have that deep rumble surrounding me at all times.