GRIT: A Spartan Riders Novel (6 page)

“I agree, he deserves better,” Blake finally said, his voice a harsh grate. “But I’m trying.”

Holding his pained stare, understanding that there was more going on below the surface than her imagination could piece together, Gabby said, “I can see that.” And she could. A man who held his son the way he did—close and tight—responded to him the way he did, worried for him the way he clearly did, was doing his best. And if what he said was true about Ash’s mom leaving only a short time ago, then he was still learning the ropes. She didn’t envy what he must be going through. She did, however, admire his fortitude.

Strength like his was incredibly sexy.

Conversation dwindled as they stared into the darkness beyond the flames, both lost in thought, the majority of which was Gabby wondering at the curious feeling taking up residence in her gut. It tickled, tiny little flutters of awareness that went on a rampage every time she met Blake’s intense stare.

Like it did now.

Pressing her palm to her abdomen, she forced herself to dampen the errant sensation, scooted to the edge of her seat, and slipped her feet back into her sandals. “I should head home. It’s getting late, and I have an early morning ahead.”

Giving a sharp nod, Blake pulled to his feet as well, Ash still shielded in his protective embrace. “Let me put this one to bed and I’ll see you out.”

Settling on her perch, Gabby was fully prepared to stick around, until she noticed that Blake had made no move to leave. Looking up, she found him watching her and quirked a delicate brow.

“Come on in. I’m sure he’d love it if you helped tuck him in.”

“Oh, well, I-I don’t know.” She licked her lips, her nerves rattled at the prospect of entering his private domain. She’d already concluded that Blake Mahone wasn’t a murderous letch, but the sensations he aroused in her were troubling. It would be a mistake to follow, and yet…

“Come on, teach. I don’t bite—” he paused, regarding her with a slight tilt of the head, and then amended, “—hard.” The look on her face must have been comical, because the grin that spread across his was brilliant. Stunning. “Come,” he commanded, and began walking.

Gabby was on her feet and moving before she’d made a conscious decision to do so. The few stragglers that still remained from the party cast curious looks as they passed, heating Gabby’s skin to red hot, but not one dared to voice their question aloud.

When they reached the back door, she hurried forward to hold it open. Inside, she took stock of the space. It was small but well-kept. Clean, which was surprising. Gabby had assumed that his tardiness and lack of apparent care and consideration would translate to disorganized filth. Turned out it was quite the opposite. His cleanliness almost made her ashamed of her own haphazardly kept space. Aside from that, she noted that there was dark paneling on some of the walls, touches of country flare in the powder blue furniture and brass fixtures, and everywhere memorabilia to remind her of Blake’s background.

Artwork of motorcycles hung on the walls, a throw blanket with a Harley was draped across the arm of the recliner, heavy leather boots sat by the front door, and as they made their way down a short hallway containing three white paneled doors, black and white photos of Ash in varying stages of growth from infancy to the present playing in a garage, surrounded by men in leather, and riding a plastic motorcycle were hung with care.

For all her impressions of Blake Mahone, there was nothing more revealing than being inside his home. All around her she felt love. It was unmistakable, undeniable, and it turned that fission of electricity she’d been feeling into an all-out lightning storm of desire.

As she watched Blake lay his son in his bed and pull the blankets around him with care, she devoured the sight with a burgeoning need to experience him in ways that she knew, without a doubt, were dangerous to entertain but impossible to ignore.

No matter how hard she wanted to pretend that nothing was happening between them, to deny a past that was determined to repeat itself, Gabby was powerless to stop it.

Didn’t want to stop it, if she was being honest.

And when Blake straightened and turned to face her, freezing mid-step when he caught the look reflecting in her eyes, she knew there was no point fighting it.

Her curiosity demanded satisfaction, and she was going to give in to it.

SEVEN

Backing Gabby out of the room and closing the door behind him, Blake loomed over her in the shadows, his presence surrounding her on all sides and sucking the air right out of her lungs. Gabby breathed deep in an effort not to faint, only to face the threat of being dragged under by his heady scent.

Leather and male musk spilled into her lungs, forcing Gabby’s eyes closed at her body’s powerful reaction. The air grew thin, her heart raced wildly, and the heat that had been twisting in her stomach like a tropical storm rushed south to pool between her legs.

If his scent alone did this to her, Gabby feared what would happen if Blake were to actually touch her.

And oh, did she crave the connection.

Gabby had always tried to live up to her parents’ expectations, but the burning desire to run free and pursue life with open arms had landed her in hot water many times in the past—the most recent of which topped the cake. Her mind warned her history was about to repeat itself, but every cell in her body said it couldn’t care less.

Life was for the living, and the only way to enjoy it was to experience everything it had to offer.

Sensing movement, Gabby opened her eyes and found herself staring at a wall of male chest. Leather creaked as Blake drew even closer, closing out what little space was left between them. Body heat licked her breasts, sending goosebumps scattering down her arms and across her chest that teased her nipples into stiff, sensitive points.

When he leaned down, placing his face so close to hers she could practically taste the beer on his breath, Gabby shivered. It became painfully clear that the time for fighting this attraction had come to an end. The sheer torture of trying to resist was something she could no longer abide, and so Gabby gave in.

“You want something, teach?”

The low rumble of his voice reached down deep, sending a flood of heat rushing between her thighs. “I—”

“Because the way you’ve been watching me all night tells me you see something you like. Or maybe it’s not so much a like as it is a
need
,” he growled, one hand reaching up to curl a lock of her hair around his finger.

The way she bloomed for him told her that he was right. He was beautiful, he was edgy, and in the rare moments that he opened his mouth to speak, he was devastating.

She needed him in the worst way. To ease the growing ache inside of her. To temper the need she’d felt from the moment she laid eyes on him. But she didn’t
know
him. And what she knew
of
him, she didn’t necessarily like.

“I don’t know if I…like you,” she whispered into the narrow space dividing them.

Bending farther down, the rough hairs dusting Blake’s jaw scratched deliciously against her cheek as he placed his lips beside her ear and whispered back, “I don’t know if I like you either, teach.” She felt the heavy weight of his hand curl around her hip and give her a possessive tug, pressing them together, chest to chest. “Is that a problem for you?”

Gabby knew it was dangerous to read between the lines, but she was loath to stop herself from doing just that. Was he saying that he wanted her too? Not nearly as much as she wanted him, though, surely. She was fast becoming a slave to her hormones. From just this one interaction, her body threatened to erupt into flames. So now she knew what would happen if he touched her, but what would happen if he kissed her?

She desperately wanted to find out.

His earlier words returned to her as if stepping out from behind a thick fog: Seize the day.

Her heart thundering behind her ribs, her breaths shallow and chest tight, Gabby forced herself not to overthink, but to act.

With a slight turn of her head, she lifted her gaze. In the darkness of the hallway, she could only see the faint movement of his eyes as his gaze met hers. In it, she imagined the same profound effect he had on her reflecting back, and with it she gathered her strength.

Bringing both hands up to curl around his strong biceps, Gabby lifted to her toes and, holding her breath, did the most daring thing she’d done in ages: she captured the lips of the most dangerous man in town.

***

Blake didn’t think she’d do it. Didn’t realize she had it in her. When he’d turned to catch her staring at him with a barely banked fire glowing like burning embers in her eyes, he wasn’t sure what she was seeing, but he knew what she wanted.

The question was why.

Why did she want him? Was it the danger he represented? The thrill of the chase, perhaps. Women flocked to their club because they were looking to walk on the wild side. They wanted fun. They wanted excitement. Sometimes, though rarely, they wanted a commitment too. But what they were always—
always
—searching for, was a touch of grit.

The type of women men like him attracted were the kind that wanted it dirty. They didn’t care if he bought them roses or took them to candlelight dinners. They only wanted one thing, and after Jodi, that’s all he was willing to give.

But kissing Gabby Morgan was different. Her mouth was exquisite. Soft as a whisper. Gentle. Delicious. A promise of more. She tasted of beer and smelled of smoke and wood chips. Beneath his hands were curves that went on for days, making his dick punch against his zipper, a persistent ache in his balls that only grew worse when she pressed even closer.

Feeling the rigid length of him against her belly, she gasped into his mouth, and then her hips swiveled, rubbing against him in a way that made his eyes cross behind his closed lids.

Made him want to take her to his bed and strip her bare so he could see those hips move beneath him in the moonlight.

He’d never had a woman like her—so soft, prim, and proper. Responsible. And she liked Ash. Was willing to shield him from conflict. He never thought that’d be a qualification he’d have to look for in a woman, but he certainly liked it in her.

But he wasn’t looking for a woman, and even if he was, she wasn’t it. They might have been attracted to each other physically, but they certainly didn’t like each other personally.

Which, if she wasn’t Ash’s teacher, would make her perfect.

With a touch of regret, he tore his mouth free from hers and set her back from him with firm hands. Eyes heavy-lidded and filled with passion, Gabby stared up at him. She was the sexiest woman he’d ever laid eyes on.

Instantly, Blake knew he’d regret what came next.

“Blake?”

“Time to go, teach.” Clasping her arm, he ignored her faint protests and hauled her ass back through the house, out the kitchen door, and towed her along toward the driveway where her car sat parked beside his bike.

It looked fucking perfect there. His ride and hers, side by side. As if that’s the way it was always meant to be.

Blake shook his head clear.

He’d had too much to drink. It was clouding his head. Skewing his judgment.

Giving her a little shove forward, he wished her a good night and was already turned to leave before her soft, siren voice called him to a stop.

“So that’s it? You’re just going to leave as if nothing happened. As if we didn’t just share an amazing kiss?”

Turning around, Blake fixed her with a hard look. The kind he used with his brothers. The kind he used in negotiations. The kind that said he wasn’t to be questioned. “Yeah, that’s exactly what I’m gonna do.”

Surprise and hurt rippled across her face, pinching her lips and giving Blake’s stomach the sensation of falling.

With narrowed eyes she said, “I guess I deserved that.”

“Come again?”

Looking off toward the house, it took her a moment to come back to him. “I read more into it than I should have. I thought you…that maybe you liked me…or whatever. I’m sorry I kissed you. It was inappropriate.” She grimaced, staring down at her hands where her fingers twisted around one another in a nervous dance.

Well shit.
Ash was right after all. Who would have thought that the uptight teacher who enjoyed busting his balls would actually be interested in him beyond a quick fuck? Trudging back to her, Blake curled a finger beneath her pointed chin and lifted her face to his. His chest tightened at the vision of her downturned lips and dejection reflecting in her eyes.

“I didn’t stop because I don’t want you. I stopped because, you and me, we’re never gonna happen. It just isn’t in the cards, teach.”

“Because of Ash?”

“He’s a part of it. But more, I don’t know that I ever want another woman in my bed more than a night, and something tells me you’re the type of woman that sticks.”

“You don’t know what kind of woman I am.”

“I know you like rules, structure. A woman like that, she likes a man who sticks.”

“And you don’t stick?”

He stopped talking because, up until a few months ago, he was a man that stuck. He didn’t want to be that man anymore. He couldn’t afford to be that man anymore. Not with a kid to worry about. Not with Cruiz and his boys encroaching on his territory.

“You’re reaching for something you know nothin’ about. Go home, teach. Sleep on it. Guarantee you’ll thank your lucky stars come morning that you dodged a bullet.”

Backing off, Blake gave her one last, lingering look before he turned and went back inside. From the shadows of his living room, he watched out the bay window as her car backed down the drive, its headlights carving the room in half as she swung around and disappeared into the night.

With a heavy sigh, Blake made his way to the back of the house, to his room where he stood for a moment in the doorway, staring at the empty California king with a touch of regret.

Gabby Morgan was sweet, gentle, and honest. All things he’d thought he’d had, but it’d turned out to be a nothing more than a smokescreen.

Was she really different, or was she just playing the game? And did it really matter?

At the end of the day, she was just another body—able to warm his bed, but never his heart.