A Real Cowboy Rides a Motorcycle (9 page)

"No, we already got stuff done for the morning. I'm all set today." Chase raised his brows, his brown gaze too knowing. "Take some space, bro. I know you need it."

Zane nodded. "I'll be back tomorrow, then." Taylor's gaze snapped to his, and he saw the surprise in her eyes that he was leaving for the night.

Regret thudded through his gut. Did he really want to miss a night with her? No, not really. But hell, he needed to get out of here. Tomorrow was going to be a rough day, and having tonight off from trying to play the dedicated brother was a good thing.

"Sounds good." Chase met his gaze. "Keep your phone on, though."

Mira laughed softly and whacked his arm. "Oh, come on, Chase. The baby isn't coming tonight. You need to stop worrying."

"I'm not worrying," he said, but his eyes held volumes of concern that Zane had never seen on his brother's face before. "I'm just making sure we have everything covered."

"It's all good, Chase. We've got your back." Steen stood up, gathering his plates. "Okay, so we'll see you guys in town."

Erin hopped up, grabbing more debris from the table. "Steen and I will get this cleaned up in two minutes. You guys cooked, so we'll clean."

"Oh, that's okay. We'll do it together. It'll go super-fast." Mira and Chase got up, and Zane watched as Taylor started to stand, her half-eaten plate of food in her hand.

"Oh, no, sweetie, you keep eating. We've got this one." Mira waved her off, and Taylor sank slowly back down to her seat.

Zane didn't move, watching Taylor wage some internal battle. He could tell she wanted to help, but her assistance had been summarily rejected. Plus, it was true she hadn't eaten yet. She glanced across the table at him, and vulnerability flashed across her face, so much vulnerability that his chest constricted.

She didn't belong here anymore than he did, and she knew it. "You want to go with me?" The question was out before he could stop it.

Shit. Had he really just asked that? He needed space, not a woman.

She stared at him, a sliver of hope flashing across her face. "What? Go where?"

It was that flash of hope, that momentary whisper of need for help, for someone to notice and care, that got him. He knew what that felt like, and he knew that it hurt like hell. And he wasn't going to lie. He wasn't looking forward to the next twenty-four hours, and the thought of having Taylor along felt like a breath of relief in the darkness that had been trying to suffocate him. As a rule, being around people made him feel crowded, but Taylor was an exception. She brought him peace. Maybe it was because she didn't want anything from him, at least nothing that he wasn't willing to give. She was leaving town soon, so there was no future to worry about. Just a present that made his day better.

So, yeah, he'd rather have her along than go by himself. "I have to go to a funeral." He said it quietly, for her ears only. He didn't want to get into it with his brothers. He didn't want to get into it with anyone, but somehow, it felt right to bring her along. It was going to be a dark twenty-four hours, and Taylor was the only thing that had brought him relief in a long time. He wanted her with him.

She glanced over at the others, and then back at him, clearly realizing that he didn't want anyone else to know. "Okay."

Just one word. Okay. She didn't ask questions that he didn't want to answer right now. She didn't press for details. She gave him exactly what he needed. Space. Privacy. And the answer that he'd wanted.
Yes.

He nodded, taking a deeper breath into his lungs than he'd been able to take since the world had gone dark five days ago. "Can you be ready in a half hour?"

"Sure." Her gaze searched his, and suddenly, it felt like the two of them were the only ones in the room. The clank of dishes being loaded into the dishwasher vanished. The murmur of animated conversation faded. The presence of too many bodies faded. All that remained was his intense awareness of her, as a woman, but also, as his anchor.

He'd never had an anchor. He'd never had anything to hold onto when the shit tried to come down on him. Chase had created a solid foundation for the Stockton's, fostering a connection that Zane always came back to, but he'd returned to the ranch like a moth circling a light bulb, receiving the light but never touching.

Taylor was different. It felt like she was his, an anchor that would dig into him and lock him down when he started to slide. He knew he should be walking away, running, retreating into the solo existence that he'd carved out for himself, but he didn't want to.

He wanted her, on his bike, holding onto him, refusing to let go. "Pack light."

Her eyes widened. "You want me to ride on your bike with you?"

His gut clenched. Of course Taylor wasn't a motorcycle kind of girl. Shit. "We can take your rental."

"No," she said softly, a thoughtful gleam growing in her eyes. "I've never been on a motorcycle. Let's do that."

He grinned, satisfaction pulsing through him. "You'll have to hold onto me. Tight."

Her eyebrows went up. "Okay."

"Okay." He grinned, and she grinned back, and suddenly, the next twenty-four hours held a promise they hadn't held before.

Taylor liked motorcycles.

It was a surprising discovery, especially given that she'd spent her life ridiculing those who were foolish enough to utilize such a high-risk mode of transportation, but she certainly understood the appeal now. She laughed with delight as Zane sped around a bend on the isolated stretch of highway, and she leaned with him, her knee only inches from the pavement.

She supposed she should be scared, but it was the most exhilarating experience of her life. She was pressed up against Zane's back as if she were attached to him, and her arms were locked around his waist. He was solid muscle, a sheer immovable force that anchored her to the seat. She felt completely secure holding onto him, and she loved the strength he gave her. Her inner thighs were flanking his hips and legs, and the leather seat vibrated beneath her. She couldn't believe how amazing it felt to have the wind whipping past her. She loved breathing the fresh air, basking in the sun as it beat down on her shoulders. The sensation of speed was incredible, and she felt freer than she ever had before.

They'd been on the bike for almost three hours, and she still wasn't tired of it. Breakfast had been tough for her, and she'd been so relieved when Zane had invited her to tag along. But despite the fun of the bike ride, she couldn't help thinking about the pain in his eyes when he'd told her he had to go to a funeral. Who had died? She could tell he didn't want to talk about it, so she hadn't asked, but it was on her mind. Losing someone you loved sucked, and she imagined it was even more difficult for a man like Zane who held his emotions so tightly in check.

"You hungry?" Zane asked, his voice easily audible over the built-in headset in the helmet.

She smiled. He'd asked her that every half hour for the last three hours, always checking in to make sure she was okay. "Maybe a little."

"Great. I love this place up ahead." The roar of the engine eased, and he pulled off the highway. They drove down a dirt road for about five minutes, and then he eased into the dirt parking lot of a small building that looked like it had been a railway car a hundred years ago. An old wooden sign declared it was "Casey's Place."

Behind the building stretched plains of grass that went on forever, and above her head was an endless blue sky, dotted with a few puffy white clouds. She couldn't believe how small she felt, and how huge the sky was. No conference rooms, crowded airports, computers, or rental cars. There was nothing but trees, shrubs, and untouched land extending in all directions. She couldn't see the highway anymore, and she felt like they were the only ones alive on the entire planet.

All her tension melted away, and her life seemed like a distant memory. "It's magical, being out here," she said.

"I know. I love the open road." Zane pulled off his helmet, and grinned at her as he swung his leg over the bike and stood up. His sunglasses hid his eyes, giving him a mysterious aura that merely added to his sexiness. His jeans were low on his hips, and his leather jacket made his already muscular shoulders even bigger. He was primal male, the ultimate bad boy, everything she'd never been attracted to in a man. He was nothing that she wanted, and yet she was completely drawn to him, in every way.

She'd always gravitated toward men in ties and dress shoes, the ones who kept their hair short and their faces shaved. Zane had two days of whiskers on his jaw, his hair curled over the collar of his jacket, and his entire demeanor told everyone to stay away from him, everyone except her.

There was no mistaking that the go-away vibe was not being sent in her direction at all, which she had to admit was incredibly sexy. To be the only one who was allowed in his personal space made her feel special, like some red carpet had been laid out just for her.

She unfastened her helmet and took it off. She shook out her hair and closed her eyes, letting the sun beat down on her face. It was a beautiful day, the perfect temperature with a slight breeze.

"Helmet head." Zane's voice was affectionate as he ruffled her hair, fluffing it up.

She self-consciously touched her hair, her fingers brushing against Zane's. She was the queen of always looking put together, but she hadn't bothered today. No bun, no curling iron, just a quick shower and blow dry. "I must look terrible."

"No." Zane's fingers closed around hers, stilling her attempt to smooth her hair. "You look gorgeous. I like being able to see the real you. I've seen enough women with so much makeup and hairspray they're practically made of plastic. Unlike you. You're just you. It's hot." His voice was low and throaty, and she felt heat rise in her cheeks.

"Really?"

"Yeah." He moved closer, and suddenly, the bike felt confining between her legs. She had nowhere to retreat to, unless she swung her leg over the massive machine in some awkward and obvious attempt at avoidance.

She swallowed, as his hand slid from her hair to her jaw, his fingers so light as they drifted across her skin. "Zane—"

"All the women on the tour get all fancied up, thinking that if they wear enough makeup and hairspray, that they'll get laid. It's all fake shit out there." He was so close now that his thigh bumped her knee. He didn't back up, and she didn't move away, but her heart was hammering now. "Unlike you."

"I dress up to go to work," she whispered. Was he going to kiss her? She wanted him to so much, but at the same time, she was terrified. She was starting to like him already, more than she could deal with. "I wear my hair in a bun, and I use hairspray." She was babbling now, trying desperately to make him see that she wasn't really the woman sitting on his bike. "I'm kind of a workaholic, and I don't do things like ride motorcycles—"

"Shut up," he said softly, the irresistible dimple appearing in his cheek as he smiled. "I know who you are, and I like it just fine." His mouth was a breath from hers now. "The last few hours of having you wrapped around me has been killing me. I need to kiss you, right now. It's not my style to ask first like I'm a good guy, but I made you a promise. So, say yes." His fingers slid along her jaw and down the side of her neck, sending chills ricocheting down her spine. "Ask me to kiss you," he whispered, his voice rough across her skin. "Beg me."

Heat flared in her cheeks, and her knee was burning where his thigh was pressed up against it. "Beg you?"

"I made the dumbass promise that I wouldn't touch you until you begged me. I won't make you feel unsafe, so you have to beg." His lips were almost on hers, his voice throaty and low, rippling with a carnal desire that made heat pool between her legs. "I trapped myself, darlin', and it's up to you to cut me loose."

She wanted him to kiss her desperately, but
asking
him to kiss her was such a statement. It forced her to make a choice instead of simply allowing it to happen. But, God, she wanted to feel his mouth on hers, so badly. What harm would it do? It wasn't like it could go too far, given that they were in the dirt parking lot of a diner at noon. She was leaving, too, right? So, it would just be a kiss with a man who made her feel alive for the first time in a very long time. She wanted the kiss. She wanted
his
kiss. She wanted
him.
So, she nodded once. "Okay."

He grinned, and brushed his lips past hers, not quite touching. "Okay doesn't cut it, darlin'. You need to be explicit in your instructions."

She rolled her eyes and pulled back, setting her hands on her hips. "Really?" She couldn't keep the exasperation out of her voice. "You want me to beg? Can't you just accept the unspoken body language and the implications of the word 'okay' and do your man thing and sweep me into your arms for a kiss that will rock my world? Seriously, Zane. A woman should not have to beg for her first kiss with a guy. There's just nothing remotely romantic about that—"

He locked his arm around her, yanked her up against him, and kissed her.

The kiss wasn't gentle or tentative, and there was nothing gentlemanly or uptight about it. It was sizzling, unadulterated heat, a searing demand that ignited every part of her body. It was a kiss of relentless need, as if he were pouring every broken fragment of his soul into the kiss and into her hands.

Her heart tightened, and she dropped the helmet to wrap her arms around his neck. He dragged her off the bike so their bodies were flush against each other. Her breasts were crushed against his chest, her nipples aching with need as he palmed her hips, locking her against him. His cock was hard, pressing against her belly, and the kiss was beyond hot, beyond scorching, beyond anything she'd ever experienced, and she loved it.

She was used to polite, perfunctory sex. None of this raging inferno that seemed like it was going to melt the clothes from her body. She'd had no idea that this kind of heat even existed, but it was perfection, it was everything she needed, it was everything she wanted, even though she hadn't known it until this moment.