Truly, Madly, Whiskey(16)
The concern in his eyes nearly knocked her off-balance again. “Nothing,” she finally managed. “I…” Need to get a grip. “I’m just tired, and that kiss. Damn, Bear. That kiss…”
He splayed his hands over her back, searching her eyes. “More than two hundred and fifty days of foreplay has its benefits.” He nuzzled against her cheek again. “You sure you’re okay? You don’t look okay.”
“I’m fine,” she said, trying to ignore the heart palpitations determined to do her in. What the f*ck was going on? She’d spent months keeping him at arm’s length, and she didn’t want to do that anymore. “It was the kiss.” Damn, she didn’t mean to say that out loud.
“Crystal,” he said with a compassionate lilt. “You can talk to me.”
She stepped from his arms, needing space to lower her invisible armor into place. She absolutely was not afraid to be intimate with Bear, and this panic was totally messing with her head. She grabbed the back door and flung it open, snatching the bags from the seat to give her hands something to do before they curled into fists she couldn’t unfurl.
“I’m fine, okay?” She didn’t mean to snap, but if he pushed, she’d disappear into her head, and she didn’t want that. She didn’t want this! This negativity between them, the f*cking worry in his eyes. She wanted to kiss the man she’d longed to be closer to and not have her heart race, not have her mind rush back to the f*cker who had taken her against her will. And not have Chrystina peek her weak f*cking head into kick-ass Crystal’s life.
She wanted normal.
He reached for the packages. “Let me help you with those.”
“No,” she said too quickly.
“No?” Confusion riddled his brow, and just as quickly it morphed to frustration. “What’s going on, Crystal? You’re hot one minute, cold the next. What’s your deal?”
She rolled her eyes, a mannerism she’d mastered knowing it drove people nuts—the perfect way to keep people away. In full-on Crystal mode, she straightened her spine and met those honey-colored eyes, which melted her resolve and strengthened it at once. Self-preservation was to Crystal what breathing was to others. As she prepared to give him a snappy retort and storm off, she realized he didn’t have his truck or his motorcycle. Damn it. She had to drive him home. What was the universe doing to her? She dropped her shoulders and tossed her bags back into the car.
“Get in. I’ll take you home, and you can hit the bar and pick up someone to help you with those blue balls I’m sure you’re packing.” She bit back the bile rising in her throat. She hated saying something so vile and mean, but it was the only way. She needed to be alone to clear her head, and there was no stopping this runaway train except to completely derail.
Bear grabbed her arm and spun her around. “What the f*ck are you talking about?”
She wrenched her arm free. “Just get in. I’ll take you home.”
Maybe some girls in her situation would tell him he could do better, or that they couldn’t be what he needed, but she didn’t believe that. Not for a single second. She was not going to let some * from her past ruin her chance at happiness. She was good and smart and strong. So f*cking strong. She was more than good enough for whomever she wanted to be good enough for. Self-worth was not the issue here, and she knew that as wholly and confidently as she knew she had to get away from Bear to deal with the war raging inside her head. She just needed to figure out how to get past the anxiety brought on by being close to the first and only man she’d ever wanted.
He rubbed the back of his neck. “Crystal, what the—”
“Do you want a ride?” Because you better get in now before I lose my head over the thought of you and another woman.
“No.” His voice was dead calm, his gaze locked on her.
“No? Bear, you’re not coming upstairs.” She sounded cold and distant. She f*cking hated cold and distant, but she needed it. It was the only way.
His eyes narrowed. “You’ve driven that point home as clear as those pretty cock-teasing eyes of yours.” He rolled his broad shoulders back, his tatted-up biceps flexing as he pulled his phone from his pocket.
She watched him stalk away, his black boots eating up the pavement as he brought the phone to his ear, heading for the street.
Chapter Four
BEAR WIPED THE sweat from his brow, listening to the familiar sounds of the auto shop. After an entire week of frustrating days and restless nights spent debating showing up on Crystal’s doorstep and insisting they talk their shit out, he’d finally had it. He’d woken up at the crack of dawn on Friday and decided this was it. He was done giving her space. Seven days was enough time for her to admit what she wanted. He didn’t know what happened the other night, but there was no way the kiss they’d shared was the kiss of a woman who didn’t want him. She wanted him, and it was time for her to own up to it.
Decision made, and unable to go back to sleep, he’d gone down to his garage at five thirty, hoping to distract himself for a few hours. He’d spent the morning working on the motorcycle he was building. Motorcycles were his first love. According to his parents, from the time he learned to walk and talk he’d been drawn to them. While his father had been happy to share the biker culture with his children, it was his father’s brother, Axel, who had taken Bear under his wing and taught him everything he knew about mechanics, and more specifically, about motorcycles. From a young age, Bear had worked under his uncle’s tutelage in the auto shop. By the time he was sixteen there wasn’t anything he couldn’t repair or build. At eighteen he was designing motorcycles.