Disclaimer - I don't own Twilight or the original characters. only this plot.
Thanks to Rita01TX for polishing my words and Keye who gets to see them first. Special thanks and big squishy cyber hugs to everyone who reviewed and helped to push this story past the magical 1000 mark. I did a happy dance.
Well, the kiss certainly got the thumbs up...until Charlie stuck his oar in.
Chapter 29
EPOV
Revving the bike, I spun her around and onto the road. It might have been a sunny day but a hundred mile round trip would still be one hell of a run with no jacket so I made a quick pit stop at home to throw on a sweater before heading out for Port Angeles.
I'd been lucky not to have run into Rose or Mom. As much as I loved them both, my brain was scrambled enough as it was and I needed to put some distance and normality between myself and Forks to bring things back into focus.
These last two days had been a real eye opener. I knew beforehand I'd be coming back as the black sheep around town but, so far, it seemed as though everyone despised me…the cop in the bar, whoever had trashed my bike, pasty faced Mike fucking Newton and, finally, Chief Swan. In fact, the only person who didn't seem to hate my guts was Ella.
My lips twitched recalling how she'd stood her ground in Newton's store with angry fire in her eyes. Riled up like that, she'd been sexy as hell and the way her arms had wrapped around me when I'd finally gotten her onto the back of my bike, squeezing me tighter the faster we'd moved, had made me feel like a king. Apart from my amateurish fumbling with Tanya, it had been the closest physical contact I'd had with a woman who wasn't my mother in...well, ever.
Nestled against my thighs, her bare legs, all silky and smooth, had drawn my eyes again and again. Good thing traffic had been sparse because I'd struggled to concentrate on anything other than the sensation of her warm core hugging my ass and her soft breasts squashed up against my back. I'd felt the heat from her body burning through the layers of leather and cotton and fought the urge to curve my tailbone back hoping she'd grind her pussy against me. Fuck! Even though I shouldn't have been torturing myself with fantasies about a girl I could never have, I'd gotten a raging hard on imagining it.
The ride to the Swan house hadn't been nearly long enough…just a couple of miles and of course I'd known the way. My father and the Chief had been old school friends, not that they'd ever hung out together. No, theirs was more of a "long chat on the street corner" type of friendship. Even so, Ella hadn't needed to tell me the address.
In an ideal world, one where she wasn't the Chief's daughter and I wasn't an ex-con, I'd have wanted to take her on a much longer ride. We'd have parked the bike somewhere pretty, enjoyed a picnic I'd have packed, taken a walk to a secluded spot and who knows, maybe she could've taught me a thing or two I hadn't already learned from contraband prison porn.
We were half way to her house when she suddenly loosened her grip. For a moment, I'd panicked, thinking I'd done something to scare her. Admittedly, I hadn't been paying much attention to the speedometer, not with legs like those wrapped around me, so I'd pulled over.
Shocked to find her chilled to the bone, I'd felt like such an asshole for not realizing she wasn't dressed for riding on the back of my bike. I'd immediately given her my jacket and fuck me, the way she'd wrapped it around herself, closing her eyes and sniffing at the leather, was too fucking cute. Then my eyes dipped lower to where she still straddled the saddle. Hungrily following the line of her thighs up to a shadow of dark curls barely concealed by black lace, my attention was well and truly caught.
Sweet baby Jesus! The Promised Land was spread out before me and the only thought running through my sex starved brain had been…I wonder if it really tastes as good as everyone says it does.
I should've been a gentleman and averted my gaze but I'd been riveted to the spot, transfixed by primal desires. Every neuron in my body had fired at once, chemicals flooding my system as animalistic urges forced through to the surface screamed for me to screw social convention. It would've been so easy to forget she'd only accepted a ride as a favor, the small matter of being parked on the side of a busy highway and that her father was a cop. My gut instinct had been to bend her backwards on the saddle and find out once and for all exactly what I'd been missing out on all these years.
Damn it! What the hell had I been thinking? She probably would've screamed loud enough to be heard in Seattle if I'd tried anything, not to mention how forcing myself on her would've made me no better than Royce King.
Fighting to subdue my base urges, the remainder of the short ride had been spent willing away the throbbing erection that had made sitting back down on the bike more than a little uncomfortable.
But, what if…she hadn't looked completely horrified when she'd caught me staring at the scrap of lace between her legs. Had that meant she wouldn't have stopped me if I'd run my hands up her thighs until my thumbs were touching the edges of her panties? Would she have let me touch her there? Had I missed the chance to push a finger into her hot center? Would she have moaned out loud if I'd pulled back and taken a long, slow lick to taste her? Shit! I'd needed to get her home fast before I slammed the bike right into a tree!
Accelerating into her driveway, I'd stilled the bike beside the front porch. It had been her first time on a motorcycle but the way she'd tried to get off, almost falling flat on her face…well, I hadn't been able to stop myself laughing and wondered if I'd ever blundered around the bike so badly or whether she was a naturally clumsy girl.
While she'd fumbled with her chinstrap, I'd ditched the groceries by the front door and rushed back to help her. Flicking the catch, I'd slowly eased the helmet away from her face to reveal her features inch by tantalizingly slow inch. Creamy skin, lips full and ripe, cheeks tinged a delectable pink and, finally, those expressive eyes. Her eyelids had been closed, long lashes resting against rounded cheeks but they'd opened in time to take my breath away.
Her hand had hesitated before stretching out to press her fingertips against my chest. Damn, her touch had been lighter than a butterfly's wing, the flex of her fingers tickling sensually through the fabric of my shirt.
I was teetering on a knife edge and desperately needed to make her stop. If she'd given just one more hint for me to make a move, I'd have succumbed to the avalanche of emotion and hormones that had gathered to an almost unbearable intensity and drawn her into my arms.
"Uh, Ella, we can't do this," I'd managed to whisper, not meaning a word of it. By that point, my dry mouth had been the only rational part of me left standing as I'd held her eyes with mine.
She'd confused the hell out of me by bringing up Tanya. Of course, she'd seen us together the night before and put two and two together to make five. But the instant I'd proclaimed I was single, she'd practically assaulted me, pressing her delectable little body up against mine and twining her fingers through my hair.
God, it had felt good. I'd clumsily fondled Tanya almost a decade ago but this was so much better. I was used to the masculine feel of my own body, all tight muscles, sinew and angles, but she was soft curves, smooth skin and welcome warmth. I'd let myself sink into the kiss while my hands glided over the fabric of her skirt to settle on the swell of her ass cheeks until I'd forgotten the reason I'd ever thought this was a bad idea.
Unfortunately, the reason had been brought sharply back to my attention by the bellowing voice coming from somewhere behind us.
Chief Swan, face as red as a tom turkey at Thanksgiving, had blustered up the driveway yelling for Ella to get in the house and for me to stay the Hell away from her.
I'd quickly weighed my options.
He'd been armed but probably wouldn't have risked shooting me, not in plain sight of his daughter, at any rate. Ella's father was at least twenty years older, most likely far slower, a few inches shorter and much less muscled than me. Realizing I could have easily taken him out with one well aimed punch, I'd relaxed a little. His only advantage had been his aggression…okay, that plus his ability to have me taken off the streets until the natural end of my sentence.
He hadn't frightened me, though. I'd been bullied by bigger, uglier, meaner men than him and being back on the inside held no fear for me. However, I'd known it would've crucified my mother and Rose to have to say goodbye again and I'd seen how much his tantrum upset Ella.
In the end, I'd decided it would be best if I simply did as he asked and left. Maybe then he'd have time to cool down and give her a chance to explain whatever she thought this was. There'd been no point in me speaking 'cause I'd had no fucking clue how to explain why that kiss had just happened.
I'd tried to resist. Hell, I didn't need him to tell me I had precious little to offer any woman, let alone one as beautiful and desirable as Ella. At almost twenty-five years of age, I had none of the qualities a girl might look for in a guy, things like money or a steady job, and everything she wouldn't…a criminal record, the prejudice of townsfolk who wouldn't let me forget my past and, to top it off, I was still carrying my V card. Not that she had any idea about that last one, thankfully.
Had she grabbed me on the spur of the moment or did she genuinely want something more? Having survived from one day to the next for so long, the thought of getting to kiss those lips again and maybe pushing things a little farther next time had made me hopeful there might actually be a next time.
Hiding that tiny spark of hope deep down where it wouldn't burn me, I'd at least made sure she was okay before mounting the bike and driving away without a backward glance.
~oOo~
With the benefit of an open road stretched out before me, I pushed her to go a little faster, taking out my annoyance on the throttle and wondering if I'd done the right thing by leaving her to face the music alone.
He wouldn't hurt her...would he? Shit! Maybe I should've stayed or at least driven past a few times just to be on the safe side.
My gut twisted.
What if he'd made her cry? My lips puckered, the needle creeping up past seventy-five as I tightened my grip. I couldn't bear the thought of her beautiful face crumpled in misery, especially not because of me.
Checking my mirrors before easing back on the gas, the bike responded instantly by slowing to a mere crawl. The road was clear in either direction so I steered across both lanes, intent on heading back to Forks to make sure she was all right.
At that moment, I didn't give a shit about Big Chief Swan and his power to send me back to prison or if he waved his piece in my face. I was Edward fucking Cullen…a goddamn prison dog. I'd been beaten, slashed and inked. I'd cradled a dying man in my arms and wept like a baby when he'd whispered that he loved me, punished men who'd committed no crime against me on the say so of another and had been strong enough to survive it all and emerge tougher for it on the other side.
Approaching a road sign announcing Forks was twenty-two miles away, I had a moment of perfect clarity.
What if she didn't want me riding back and making more trouble? Sure, she was a girl I'd apparently grown up around but I'd only met her again less than twenty-four hours ago. I knew nothing about her, not even how old she was, and it had only been one kiss, for God's sake. For all I knew, she was playing me…enjoying the thrill of teasing a bad guy to his knees.
I didn't drive for long before changing my mind. She was a grown woman and I'd have to see her again at some point, if only to reclaim my jacket. Decision made, I grit my teeth, spun the bike around once more and sped off back in the direction of Port Angeles trying to blot the memory of her soft lips from my mind.
A few miles along a seemingly aimless track, I spotted a large, white sign that said CAR PARTS with a big red arrow pointing towards a single story building set back off the road. Although it didn't look like much, it had to be the place so I pulled off the highway onto the small forecourt and dismounted.
To the left, a car was parked almost out of sight around the corner while a rusting metal sign advertising spark plugs swayed and creaked mournfully in the fitful breeze. I walked straight ahead across the distressed concrete to the gaping maw of a doorway above which hung another sign. Faded red and gold letters announced I was about to enter Marks's Auto Shop.
My gut reaction was to wonder why the fuck Rose had entrusted my pride and joy to a two bit outfit like this. The place was as deserted as a ghost town.
Unfastening my helmet, I carried it under my arm and stepped into the nearest bay. The smell of spilled diesel and rubber was familiar to my nostrils, reminding me of the hours I'd spent in the prison workshop. Unsurprisingly, only one car was parked over the pit but no one was working on it.
By now, any regular Joe would've called out to announce his presence. Not me. Call me overcautious, if you like, but I'd been ambushed before.
Scoping the surroundings to analyze any risks, I noticed a radio playing old style rock and roll music was turned down low. I moved a little closer, making sure my boots didn't make a sound on the hard flooring. Approaching a small, empty office with a glass windowed door standing half open, I glanced inside and spotted a mug of coffee. No scum. It hadn't been there for long. Since there were no signs of a struggle or anything unsavory happening to the owner, I concluded the guy must've gone to the john and decided to wait it out.
A distressed, red leather bench seat, probably from the back of an old Lincoln or maybe that white Cadillac parked at the far end of the bay, sat invitingly against the wall. It was lower than I anticipated and made a loud scraping noise when I plopped down a little heavier than I'd intended.
"Fuck," I muttered.
"Hey! Somebody…out there?" a hoarse voice called out.
At first, I thought I'd imagined it but when I heard a groan, I knew something wasn't right.
"Yeah, I wanted a price for some Harley parts," I answered, already back on my feet, ears straining to pinpoint the source of the sounds.
"Can you…help me?" the voice croaked, sounding more strained this time and I frowned as I crept cautiously towards the vintage Cadillac convertible.
"Where are you?" I asked, noticing the front seat was empty. I skirted around the vehicle trying not to get too distracted by her soft topped, whitewall tired beauty.
A groan and a gasp.
"Trapped," was all he could manage and I realized the sounds were coming from under the car.
"Shit," I mumbled, dropping onto my hands and knees to peer into the darkness behind the deep skirts and heavily chromed mudguards. I quickly spotted the guy. It looked like the jack had slipped somehow, pinning him beneath the beast.
I lay on the floor and stretched my arm as far as I could to reach the jack but my fingers barely grazed the edge, certainly not close enough to get a firm grip.
"Hang on! I'm coming," I said, rushing around to the other side where his feet were sticking out. After a short struggle, I managed to yank out the heavy lump of metal that had toppled over onto its side.
It was a huge piece of equipment and I fumbled a little before getting it back into position. It seemed to take forever to get it raised high enough to lift the weight off the mechanic.
He wheezed as the pressure began to release from his chest and, once the car was completely off of him, I dropped to the floor, shuffled underneath to grab him by his arm and dragged him out.
From his receding grey hair, he looked to be in his late fifties. His wire framed glasses were littered with so many fine scratches it was a wonder he could see through them. The way he winced when I pulled him clear had me panicking that he was going to have a heart attack and fall at my feet. His ashen face was sweaty and one hand was clutching his chest.
"You okay, mister?" I urged, scanning his body for any signs he might be about to black out on me.
"Uuugh! Gimme a minute, son," he groaned, rubbing a free hand across his clammy brow.
"That's one hell of a heavy car, sir. Maybe I'd better call for an ambulance."
With no one to put in my address list anyway, I hadn't bothered buying a cell phone so, figuring the nearest place to make a call would be in the office, I started off in that direction.
"No! No, don't bother. I'll be fine. I'm just winded, is all," he insisted, looking almost annoyed as if even suggesting calling for help was a direct slur against his manhood. I'd met men like him inside, tough guys who'd rather die than look weak in someone else's eyes.
Beautiful as she was, I gave the car a dirty look and she glared right back at me, her chrome grill set like bared teeth reminding me of Stephen King's killer car, Christine.
"How long were you under there?" I asked, somewhat shocked an experienced mechanic like him would even consider working beneath a car with no one else around and he shrugged.
"Not long," he said, before arching his back and I was relieved to see some color creeping back into his face. "Tell you what, son. Why don't you run on over to the office and make us some tea..."
My eyebrows lifted skeptically at hearing him ask for tea, of all things. He looked more like the type to swig black coffee out of a mug with oily fingerprints all over it, a brew so strong you could stand the spoon up in it, when he added.
"...and there's a bottle of Jack in the second draw of the filing cabinet. Make sure to pour a slug in mine."
"Yes, sir," I said and hustled off to do as I was told.
Hmmm, so we have a new character, the plot thickens. Whadda ya reckon, good guy or bad guy?
See you next week.
Claire x
