“You are quite stunning, Rebel.”
His gaze hadn’t faltered since I touched him. Maybe he needed something to tether him to reality or some shit. Now I’m being weird.
“I’m not a huge fan of public places.” His voice sounded strained, and he gripped the back of his neck and tilted his head downward.
“Let’s go, then,” I offered. I grabbed his hand, my drink in the other, and led us to the door.
We made it to my car, and he pulled me close. “I apologize for my rough exterior. I’m not one to date.”
His hooded eyed peered into mine. They were asking a silent question that I couldn’t quite convey. Leaving the coffee shop had him relaxing. Almost as if he were a completely different person. He smiled brightly, and his eyes finally roamed my body. The heat there made my nether regions happy.
I didn’t notice before, but his hands were a lot larger than mine. They cupped my face. His thumbs glided across my cheeks, and he went in for a kiss. When his lips touched mine, I could smell spearmint. His tongue flicked across the seam of my lips, and I let him in, tasting him.
This didn’t feel like the man I’d met in the shop. Maybe he wanted to get me alone?
The conspiracy theorist in me was terrified, but I tried not judging others for their actions.
And then his gum touched my tongue. The urge to cringe and gag was strong, but I let him play around my mouth while avoiding the desire to clench my mouth shut. I was no quitter, I’d see this shit through ‘til the end. The texture of the gum continued to make my tongue recoil. Eventually, I stopped all together. If I knew the man, it’d a completely different story, but he was a stranger with a gooey substance dancing with my mouth.
Fuck this shit! Why can’t I get a sexy, saucy, and McDreamy kind of date?
Bitch, this ain’t a McPickYourDude drive-thru. Get your head out of the clouds, Red, my inner hussy chastised.
Finding a decent man wasn’t as easy as Becky-with-the-nice-hair-and-open-for-service-legs, but I would go to the nearest McPickYourDude anyway.
"Can I get a McSteamyDreamy with a side of sex-in-a-cup?"
My mind was an asshole, but nothing went right from the get go, though Blaine got the job done.
“Want to come back to my place?” Eric asked.
Do I screw the Mushu of kissing or wait for the Shen of love making and be the girl worth fighting for?
What would Conor do? I stood there, probably being perceived as an imbecile. He’d hit it and quit it. That was his forte. Thinking of him brought up images of Coen. He’d be disappointed. Not sure why since he didn’t have a hold over me…or did he?
Would he care if I banged this stalky weirdo, or would he get jealous and stop being difficult? The choice was hard, but I really wanted to see if I could get some emotion out of Coen other than a stiff one.
This guy was ballsy. Hopefully, I wouldn’t need to dial 911 after this.
We drove to his place, me following him in my car. Yes, awkward as hell. When I arrived, my amazement was indescribable. He lived in a wooden mansion in the mountains. Trees enveloped it like a camouflage of sorts, and it eerily reminded me of Twilight.
He pulled the door open for me, grabbed my hand, and led me to his dungeon—erm house. My nerves were something else completely.
We made our way up his winding staircase, and he pulled me into his arms. Our kisses were sloppy, the rushed kind that made breathing difficult. Eric broke the kiss and pressed a very long code into the door keypad thingamabobble, and we pushed inside.
I was led into what I assumed was his room. Inside was a poster bed, two dressers, a walk-in closet, and two nightstands. I fell backward onto the plush fabric of his bed. He towered over me, his height extraneous. Everyone appeared to be taller than my five-foot-two frame.
His gum was gone, I wasn't sure where to, but I felt grateful. He unbuttoned his shirt, taking it off as keenly as possible. The slower he went, the more I thought of Coen and how much I wanted to experience this with him only a day before.
Do I cop out?
I watched Eric take off his clothes, but it wasn’t him I envisioned. Coen’s naked body was what reflected, his shoulder tattoo, washboard abs, and hips that I’d love to take a bite at. All I could see was him, and that fucking sucked.
My stomach clenched, and the mood soured. He fucked with my mind and gave me the girlie equivalent of impotence. Damn you, Coen.
“I’ve got to go." I hurried out while he was still removing his belt. “Did I do something wrong?” he inquired. The genuine concern in his voice made me feel like a bitch.
“No, I just shouldn’t have come here,” I muttered. As I ran out the door, down the stairs, and to my car, I felt worse than when I found Carl cheating.
This experiment was supposed to be fun. The whole thing should have been a way to cope with the loss of my loveless marriage, but with a tall, dark, and handsome man, it only became worse.
Coen Fucking Kidd.
As I drove home, my foot sunk onto the pedal, and my car hit the one hundred mark on the dial.
After the debacle with Eric, I went straight home and brushed my teeth ten times at least. Nothing would take the texture of gum from my tongue. I could scrape it forever and always have the feeling there.
I couldn’t get past this uncertainty and anger that I felt, and I knew where I needed to be…in his arms.
10
Ride or Die
Dating a BMX Biker Rule #11: My career will always come first. I’ve worked too hard to give it up now.
Coen
I walked into the office of my media manager.
“Coen, my boy!” His smile was inviting and full of hope. He pulled me into an embrace. “I’ve got you into another tournament. The only issue is you’d have to leave in a week. I know you’ve been gone a lot lately, so I wanted to run it by you before I confirmed with the sponsor.” Robert Ranger pointed to the chair for me to sit. I took a seat, wondering what choice I really had. “It’ll be a twelve-day tour. You’ll start in Las Vegas and California. If you keep the scores high, you’ll tour North Carolina, Texas, and Florida.” He spoke with clarity and optimism.
“All of that in twelve days?” My stomach dropped, and the secret I’d been hiding only scared me further.
“That’s never been an issue before. We can get you some cortisone shots for your knees if necessary.” He was oblivious to my panic.
“T-The doctor told me that if I’m not careful, I-I’ll do detrimental damage to them permanently,” I stammered slightly, my heart pounding so hard I could feel it in my ears. “Can we hold off another two weeks?”
Cold sweats drenched my body. My nerves were on edge. I loved biking more than anything, but Dr. Angelwood had made it abundantly clear not to ride so soon.
“This is a once-in-a-lifetime event, Coen. Fox Motorsports is looking to sponsor you. If you need a break, I can understand, but Ferris isn’t going to pass it up,” Rob goaded me. He knew how much I hated Ferris and how young and quickly he’d adapted to the top of the chart with me.
“No, I’ll make it work. When do I leave?” The growl I gave was irate and demanding.
“Next Wednesday. You’ll be in Vegas by that night.” His smile was huge and grateful.