Page 22 of Wreckin' Amethyst

“No time,” I announce, trotting down the porch’s stone steps. “It’s now or never, Beasty. I’m going either way.” Stopping in front of the orange Ferrari, I whistle low. A feline of metal, the body bends to the will of the road. Utterly smooth, perfectly aerodynamic. I watch myself approach the polished sheen of a fresh paint job, the heady scent of unbroken leather leaks from cracked windows. Like a burst of pure sunlight against the tarmac, it demands attention. Craves to be driven.

“Ami,” Myles unknowingly latches on to the nickname Charley calls me by, “Carter is precious about his cars. Give me five minutes, I’ll have the limo brought around.” There’s an edge of panic in his voice, which spurs me on further. Entices me to step closer. “Come on, it’s brand new. I can’t let you hotwire it already.” A gentle tug on my arm does nothing to deter me.

“Who said anything about hotwiring?” Although that was my plan B. Producing the keys I pickpocketed from Carter by the pool, I unlock the doors and hop into the driver’s seat. A groan of indecision sounds behind me, and as I lower myself behind the wheel, a pair of hands shove me along into the passenger side. The only other seat in the low sports car.

Taking the keys from my grip, Myles slams his door closed and is tearing down the driveway as a bellow penetrates the air. Loud enough to be heard over the roar of the engine, Carter’s outline appears in the rearview mirror. I expect his reflection to shrink, but as his arms begin to pump and we’re forced to slow at the iron gates, my heart hammers.

Holy shit, he’s taking chase.

Myles spots him too, a flash of panic crossing his features. The gates smoothly but slowly open, Carter gaining on us. Muttering beneath his breath that he’s so dead, Myles slams his foot on the accelerator and peels out of the driveaway, the gates grinding along either side of the Ferrari. Sparks fly, a guttural scream leaving Carter as he just slams his hands on the trunk before we’re gone.

Racing down the narrow path, towards the highway and beyond. The wheels absorb every bump along the way, the suspension deliciously agile. I smooth my hands over the seat beneath me, growing damp between my legs at the rush of robbing another rich bastard of his prized possession. All that’s left is to convince my anxious companion to enjoy it too.

“Loosen up Myles,” I place my hand on his thigh and squeeze. His swim shorts, the only item of clothing he is wearing, are still soaked through and becoming molded to the seat. His thigh tenses beneath my touch. Lowering the window all the way, my other arm flies outward to the rush of wind we create, whooping and laughter leaving my lips until Myles finally cracks a smile too.

***

Sunset is impending by the time we reach Myles’ destination of choice. I didn’t ask where we’re going, preferring to live by the spontaneity of it all. When I had woken this morning, sprawled across Myles’ sculpted body, I was seriously questioning my life choices up to this point. Searching for the objective which sees me from one day into the next. But now, everything seems different.Heis different from the arrogant asshole I believed him to be, and dare I say we have more similarities than I knew of yesterday.

I hear the water first. A gentle lap blown to me on a light breeze infused with a salty tang. Rounding the front of the Ferrari, Myles heads back to check out the trunk. A soft ‘aha’ lets me know he found something. We’ve parked on a large dirt patch, bordering the grassy bank dipping below. At the end of a lantern-lit path curving through the woodlands ahead, an understated boat house sits at the edge of an expansive lake.

“Carter usually ties his visits into the city with a trip to the dry cleaners,” Myles tells me, appearing at my side. A powdered blue shirt stretches across his chest, his hair wild and curled about his shoulders from the forceful blow-dry our speeding provided. Dark jeans sculpt his legs, framing the same Air Jordans he’s been wearing since leaving the manor. Offering his arm, I accept it with more ease than I should. Myles will start to think I’ve turned all gooey inside if I don’t insult him soon.

“Your hairline is receding,” I blurt out. Myles softly chuckles with the confidence of someone who thoroughly checks every hair follicle in the mirror each morning. Leading me down the path, a man steps out of the boat house, a jacket draped over his shoulders in the same tweed as his hat. Aged fingers push the key into the lock before spotting us. His white mustache twitches over a small and surprised smile.

“Mr. Hudson!” he exclaims, offering out that same hand, smudged with oil. Myles takes it without hesitation, greeting the old man as Percy. “It’s been too long, my boy. Staying out of trouble I hope,” he bobs his eyebrows towards me. I stiffen with the thought of being brought here, duped into playing into Myles ‘different girl each night of the week routine’.

“Always,” Myles nods, a similar mischievous smile playing about his lips. “We were going to head out, if that’s okay with you?” Percy inclines his head, dropping the keys into Myles’ hand.

“Lock up when you’re done. You know where to leave the key.” Bidding us a good night, Percy walks in the direction of the only other vehicle nearby. A large, beat-up truck tucked back in the tree line.

“How many girls have you brought here?” I ask, hating the envious edge to my tone. Neither of us are innocent, I know that. But I was stupid enough to let myself for one second believe I might be special in Myles’ eyes. Permitting us entry into the boathouse, I make it two steps within the door before Myles is upon me. Shoving my back against the wood, his hands gripping my forearms quickly shift to a downward caress to my hands. His breath fans my lips, the shift of his chest against mine causing my nipples to harden. Between us, Myles raises my hands, kissing the back of each one in turn.

“This place is my sanctuary, where I go when I need to escape from the life which suffocates me. It’s where I come to be alone. Once we’re out on the water, you’ll understand why.”

“What’s changed now for you to share your solitude with me?” I swallow the quiet, breathiness of my voice. Myles drops his head to my ear, his stubble grazing my cheek.

“I figured two lost souls like us…we could be alone together.” I don’t need to see Myles’ unique amber eyes to visualize them. Enquiring and tentative. My skin dances with pulsing electricity which could so easily be misunderstood for more than simply lust coursing through my veins. When Myles is away from the manor, the money and the men, when I’ve spent all afternoon replaying his words of misery in my mind, it’s easy to believe we’re just a man and a woman. Engrained with need. Craving a release.

Moving away, taking the warmth with him, Myles switches on a light before preparing a rowing boat. While he enters a silent world of safety checking, I hunt for more feminine touches. Three rolled blankets, a mini fridge containing chocolate strawberries and a bottle of champagne. Either Percy stays stocked for a honeymoon experience, or Myles called ahead. I eye him suspiciously, recalling the toilet break I took at a gas station halfway here. Well, to leave them would be a waste now.

Conveniently, a wicker basket on top of the counter is ready with drinking glasses, expensive chocolate truffles and a pack of supersized condoms. Percy really thought of everything, but I won’t be rocking Myles’ boat this evening. All sympathy and understanding aside, I refuse to be another possession he owns.

“Ready when you are,” Myles announces. Equipped with my arms full of goodies, the basket in the crook of my elbow, I’m soon sprawled comfortably in the base of the boat amongst the blankets. Untethering us from the wooden dock, I have a perfect view of Myles’ biceps bulging with each powerful stroke of the oars. A lantern swings gently from the mast at his back, keeping the light with us for when needed.

Falling into a comfortable silence, I stare upwards. All around, a golden sky descends into vibrant oranges and red, beams of sunlight scattering through the clouds as it nears the horizon. Dots of eager stars try to pierce the earth’s atmosphere. I could lie here like this forever. A rare sensation of contentment overtakes me, between the rhythmic sway of the boat, the beauty of our surroundings. I’d like to convince myself this feeling has nothing to do with the man watching over me like a stoic guardian. I should be worrying about how calm I feel, his soothing presence washing over me like a balm, I’m tired. So freaking tired of fighting, of constantly being aware, of being stubborn. For one single night, I’m going to allow myself to switch off.

“Why do you stay?” I ask after a while. The steady drag of the boat moving towards the center of the lake has eased, Myles releasing the oars to their holders either side of him. He doesn’t need context to my question, not when he himself admitted to feeling suffocated often.

“I’ve never had a reason to leave.” I call bullshit, but don’t say anything else. I’m not in the market for saving rich boys from their woeful lives. Myles shifts from his wooden plank seat to join me in the shell of the boat, wriggling his huge frame beneath a plaid blanket. “The version of Carter you see now isn’t who he always was. It’s who he’s become in order to help me.”

“Because he’s being paid,” I grunt bitterly. Why that nugget of information has affected me so, I have no idea. But it’s allowed me to put aside the distaste I felt for Myles’ privileged life, and channel it elsewhere. Risky territory for the Adonis now snuggling into my side, threading his fingers through mine.

“It’s not as black and white as it seems,” Myles sighs deeply. “My father gave all of the boys roles in our main company, and went on to invest in their side businesses, encouraging them to make their own fortunes. He’s a fair man, always believing in the lesson of self-procuring rather than being given. It’s why it was so important to him that I completed rehab and approached our board of directors as a reformed man, rather than the ‘spoiled prince’ expecting handouts.”

I catch the hint of a hooded smirk, referencing the term I called him this morning in his bedroom. So much has happened since then, so many truths becoming unraveled. Had I known all of this yesterday, would I have been so eager to jump out of his arms? Would I have been alone in the garden at all, presenting myself as an easy target?

“I should…thank you for what you did last night,” I wonder out loud. Myles chuckles.

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