Loving Me, Trusting You(30)

“You can talk about whatever with me, Mireya. You know that, right?” I roll my eyes and keep moving until I'm stopped in front of … something. I don't know what make or model it used to be. It's just a big jumble of parts now, but the engine looks good and it certainly doesn't look like anything you'd wipe your damn ass with. This isn't a Barbie bike, built for show, and made of plastic. This is solid, metal, old, probably American, definitely custom. I smile. I wonder if it rides?

“Stop being a damn *, Gaine. I don't want to have any f*cking heart to hearts with you, alright? Go be a f*cking faggot somewhere else.” His fingers grasp my bicep firmly, but gently. He's holding tight, but he isn't being rough. He knows better. I can handle men that are rough, but I don't like it. It doesn't feel right. I mean, holding your own is one thing, but you don't have to like it. Gaine knows that.

“If lovin' so hard I can't breathe, can't think straight, can't even f*ck another woman, makes me a damn * then so be it. Mireya, you're hurting. Old memories are getting stirred up. I can tell. It isn't hard to see that. Don't hold it all back. That's what you've been doing for years, and it isn't helping. You have to talk about it, babe.” I turn to look at him, the smile melting off my mouth and pooling on the dirty floor under my leather boots like oil.

“You don't know shit about shit, Gaine Kelley. Fuck off and leave me alone. I don't want to gossip about past f*ck-ups. And I definitely don't want to ride in reverse. I'm going to move forward and railroad Bested by Crows. That'll be my vengeance; that'll be my finality. Words are just words, and I have no use for them.” I jerk my arm back, but Gaine doesn't let go. Instead, he follows, moving against me, pressing me back into the row of metal, so that my jeans brush against tailpipes and tires. The heat of his body overwhelms me, crashing down around my skin like fire, burning away the icy brush of the air conditioning.

“I know you don't like to hear it, and I know you're tough as nails, and I know beyond any shadow of a doubt that you can take care of yourself, but Goddamn it, Sawyer, if you're not stubborn as all get out. Sometimes, you have to talk about something to get it off your chest. I can see it sitting there, the biggest damn elephant in the room. You're hurt, lover. I can see it plain as day.” He slides his hand up my arm and touches his fingers to the base of my neck, sending thrills of pleasure down my spine. Velvety heat envelops me again, whispers false promises in my ear. Never before have I wanted to throw myself into somebody's arms. And I don't like it. My mouth twists into a scowl, but before I can get any words out, Gaine's kissing me like he's afraid he's going to lose me. I don't know how that's possible since the f*cker doesn't even have me yet, but he does it, somehow, someway … I reach out and grab his leather jacket by the lapels, yanking him against me. I mean to push him back and then sock him in the face, but I don't quite get there. Instead, that heat and desire and desperation to be wanted as much as I want, fills me, consumes me and then spits me back out into the world, cold and wanting. I let go of his jacket and slide my arms beneath the leather, holding Gaine tight while he teases me with his lips, pressing barely there kisses against my mouth, avoiding the tangle of my tongue with his. He keeps it strictly mouth to mouth, less vulgar, more intimate somehow. I don't quite know what to think.

“Mireya?” It's Amy's voice, flitting through the curtain into this quiet darkness. It smells like oil and gasoline, rusted metal and cracked leather. Maybe that's why I'm so intoxicated? I stare past Gaine's shuttered lips and watch as she moves into the room, pausing when she sees us. Her small mouth turns into a perfect, little 'O' and she reaches back to stop her friend from following after her. “They're not here,” she says instead, and then in a swirl of floral skirts, turns away and disappears again. Somehow, it seems she knows what I need even more than I do. Uppity, little bitch.

Gaine's fingers tighten slowly but surely, weaving into my hair and holding me still while he savors me, opening up a bit, letting me in, so that I can brush my tongue against his. We kiss slow and sensual, sizzling. I want to take the next step, but I don't, waiting for him to move first. He doesn't. He just keeps kissing, holding me like he's never going to let go, trapping me between old metal and uncertainty.

When I hear movement outside the curtain, I try to pull away, but he keeps us still, trapped between one heartbeat and the next.

“Mireya.” The word is whispered against my mouth, spreading the wetness between my thighs. When Gaine drops his hand down and slides it under my shirt, I groan against his lips. “No matter what you say or do, or hell, no matter you don't say or don't do, I'm here for you. Got it? And it ain't because I'm a *. It's because I love the hell out of you, and I'm not willing to watch you fall by the wayside, bitter and broken. What happened then doesn't mean shit now. Yeah, I think you should talk about it, and I sure as shit think they should pay for it. But … ” He trails off and lets go of my hair to unbutton my jeans. His hand moves lower, into my panties, cupping my heat tight and then slipping a single finger into the moistness. “It.” He thrusts hard, slamming his knuckles against my *. “Doesn't.” Gaine slides his finger out slowly. “Define.” A second finger joins the first, filling me up and making me gasp. Jesús santo. “You.” Gaine curls his hand just right, hitting my G-spot and knocking my feet out from under me. The only thing that keeps me standing is his arm around my waist, burning a line alone the bare skin where my shirt rides up. He kisses my open mouth again and holds me there while he plays along my insides, brushing and sliding and thrusting, sending flutters through my belly.