Page 37

“No.” Her reply is flat and instantly delivered, but not truthful.
“Why do you think I tease you like this?” I ask, without thinking. Her pussy owns me, and I haven’t even tasted it yet.
She scowls, searching my eyes. “Because you’re mean, and I don’t think you even like me.”
“Or maybebecauseI do.” I raise an eyebrow, wondering if she understands the meaning and the way I put emphasis on I do.
“You suck at showing it.”
I shrug and take a step back. “Doesn’t mean it’s not true.”
And then I walk away, leaving her in the shadows where we exist only in secret.
Cody’s by the Jett trailer with River again, still with the popcorn, and I hit the bottom of the bag with one hand. It crashes to the pavement. Reaching inside my riding pants, I adjust my aching cock and wink at him. “You give my girl popcorn again, I’ll break your jaw, motherfucker.”
There is sights and sounds all around me, drawing my attention, and others, never holding it. The PA systems blares the names of riders and tricks thrown fifty feet above the air. There’s whistles and the low rumble of engines. The high pitch of a bike revving midair, the crowd chanting and spilling beer. . . the smells of popcorn, hot dogs, cinnamon and sugar from the elephant ears baking. . . it’s all around me, but still, everything inside me is drawn to the one possessing my body and heart.
From the moment Tiller makes his presence known, I’m drawn, my attention anchored to his every move. And after that kiss, I can’t focus on anything but him. The show is sold out, the streets of Santa Monica pier teeming with crowds, but we might as well be the only two people here when his eyes find mine again.
He’s in the rider’s paddock now, near his bike, and my lips still burn from his assault on them. I’m at the Jett Industries merchandise trailer pretending like I’m not staring at him. He’s surrounded by women, all with their tits out, hoping at least one of the riders glance in their direction.
Hang around the freestyle motocross scene long and you knowexactlywho the Sawyer brothers are. Having been brought up around it, I’ve known them longer than I haven’t.
Over the years, Roan, Tiller, Shade. . . they’ve made quite the names for themselves, and their reputations for bad boys on and off the ramps precedes them. They’ve stolen the hearts of many. I know this because I’m one of them. Though all three of them are ridiculously hot, I only want one.
He glances my way, and before I can dart my eyes from his, pretend I wasn’t staring as he signs the tits of one of the moto-ho’s, he winks at me.
A familiar ache twists inside of me. It’s the sight of him that sends my heart craving what it doesn’t need.
I’m dumb. Why did I let him kiss me?
Because he’s Tiller. It’s what he does. And I so desperately wanted to kiss him. He once said I use him for my daddy issues—I still haven’t forgotten that remark—but what is he doing to me in exchange?
“Is him the guy with green hair?” River stares curiously at Tiller.
It pains me, like the biggest knot in my chest that she might never know who Tiller really is.
Perched on a toolbox behind me, she’s swinging her legs carelessly. I nod to her, tying her hair up in a ponytail, out of the way of her cotton candy she has stuck to every finger, licking each one to savor the sugar sweetness. “Yes, that’s the guy with green hair.”
Watching her sit on the toolbox and enjoy the simplest of things, I envy River. This child. Not in the ways that her life has been turned upside down in the last month, but that she’s gone with the flow, never missing a beat I can’t seem to catch.
I’m beginning to think my life is not a fairy tale, despite my dreams of it being so.
There is no princess, only a girl lost in life. There is no tower where a dragon saves me. Only a devil throwing lightning bolts in my raging storm. Ironically raising a child of that devil without actually having him. There is a girl faced with living a life she didn’t plan. One who needs to believe in herself.
Instinctively, I hate. And I don’t want to, but since losing Ava, I hate. Sometimes even the simplest of things, like savoring sugar sweetness.
I think of Ava every day. Andhatethe day I don’t. I worry that sometime soon, I won’t think of her for days, until I’m reminded of something she did.
And I hate that I want Tiller, and I want River to know him, not this guy he portrays at a track or in front of others. I want the one who slept in the bathroom shower because he didn’t want to leave me when I was sixteen and decided beer was better after chugging vodka.
Where is that guy? Does he even exist anymore in the shell of a man begging for my virginity? I know, maybe it’s hard to believe, but yes, I am a virgin and rarely even kiss, unless it’s by the lips of a sinner.
Before the final rounds, Cody steps in front of the table, his black and red Honda shirt stained with oil and his hands cut up and dirty from wrenching on a bike all night. “Are you okay?”
He’s always concerned about me, and I can’t even tell you when it started, this thing he has with checking in on me all the time.
I nod, pulling out boxes from under the black curtain covering the table. I set the extra steering stabilizers and a recluse clutch to the side. “I’m fine. Just keeping busy.”