Page 54 of Pining for Pierce

“I didn’t know she was expecting a girl,” I say. “Although I imagine Brady was pleased.”

“He seemed to be. Why? Was that what he wanted?”

“Yeah. Evidently.”

“That could explain why he’s so happy. Although I imagine he’ll be fairly pleased that my bike is off the road. He’s never liked it.”

“Maybe not,” I say. “But you do. So, what are you going to do about it?”

He shifts a little closer, pulling me into his arms, and I nestle against him. “It’s insured,” he says. “So I guess I’ll make a claim, and get a payout… eventually.”

“And you’ll buy another bike?” I ask, twisting around and looking up at him.

He shakes his head, his brow furrowing slightly. “No. I’ll put it toward buying a car. My riding days are over, babe.”

I sit forward, freeing myself from his arms, and put my drink down next to his before I look back at him, tilting my head. “You can’t say that. Riding is a part of who you are, Pierce.”

“It was, but it isn’t anymore.” He sucks in a deep breath. “I nearly lost you tonight.”

I take his hand in mine. “No. You saved me.”

He sits forward, shaking his head. “Even if I did, there may come a time when I can’t… when something happens outside of my control.” He puts his arm around me again. “I’m not willing to take that chance, babe.”

I lean up, kissing his cheek. “I’m not willing to take that chance, either.”

He twists in his seat, clasping my cheeks between his hands and closes the gap between us, his lips crushed to mine. This is the first time he’s really kissed me – kissed me like he meant it – since the accident, and I think he’s just realized that, too. His breathing changes, and he deepens the kiss, groaning into my mouth as he pulls me back down onto the couch with him. I’m pretty sure the robe must be gaping, if not falling open, but I don’t care. Pierce doesn’t do anything about it, and even if he did, I still wouldn’t mind. I need this, and so does he, our bodies fused as the sounds of our moans and sighs fill the room. I don’t want this to end, and it seems he doesn’t, either, as he just keepson kissing me, his lips never leaving mine as his hands roam up and down my back, over my hips, around to my ass, and down my thighs. He explores me through the robe, his fingers touching every inch of me, until he finally pulls back.

“You’re still shaking,” he says.

“I know.” Even my lips are trembling now.

“You’re safe, Harley. You know that, don’t you?”

“Yes. I’ve even warmed up.”

“Warmed up?” he says, smiling. “You’re too damned hot to be described as warm.”

I lean back slightly, as a thought suddenly occurs and I look up into his perfect face, wondering if I should say anything, but knowing I have to. “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

“Did you used to say things like that to the other women? The ones who weren’t right for you?” I ask, using his words, rather than trying to think of my own.

“You mean, did I call them hot?”

“Yes.”

He frowns, like he’s thinking. “I might have done, in the heat of something intimate, but not like this… not just sitting around, kissing. Although I can’t remember just sitting around and kissing, to be honest.”

“So you’ve always just… cut to the chase?” I ask, intrigue getting the better of my ability to find a better way to phrase that.

“Not necessarily. Just in case I haven’t made this clear before, I haven’t slept with every woman I’ve dated.”

“I’m kinda relieved about that. I know how many of them there have been.”

I smile up at him, so he knows I’m not upset or angry, although he still whispers, “Sorry,” and I rest my head against his chest.

“It’s okay. I’m only asking because… well, I suppose I want to know I’m different.”

---