Page 18 of Tuck & Roll

He sat up so fast, she almost fell in the floor. He scooted to the edge of the couch and shoved his feet in his boots. He headed for the door, but stopped before he unlocked it. “I’ll find out who the prick is one way or another and I’m going to kick his ass.”

She threw her hands in the air. “What is everyone’s obsession with who gave me a hickey six weeks ago?” She followed him to the door, stopping a few feet away. She shook her head, completely confused. “I don’t understand why it’s so important to you to kick this guy’s ass.” She held her arms out at her sides, palms up.

From the looks of it, he didn’t know why it was so important either. “It just is.”

He unlocked the door and let himself out. As she locked the door behind him, she could hear his bike start up. She listened as it drove away until she couldn’t hear it any longer. She shook her head again, simultaneously laughing and fighting back tears.

She turned the lights out as she went, shut off the T.V. and headed to her bedroom. She crawled into bed, turned off her lamp and wondered how exactly he planned to kick his own ass.

What the hell was wrong with him?

It had only been four days and Tuck was already finding himself on Kylie’s porch once again. He hadn’t lied to her when he said he missed spending time with her. They used to do it a lot as they were growing up until he’d fucked up and kissed her. After that he’d been “too busy” with school, sports and Taylor to spend much time with Kylie. After graduation, he moved out and started prospecting for the Sons or Redemption, which gave him even less free time to spend with her.

He wasn’t the least bit surprised that she’d grown into a beautiful woman with a brilliant mind. Even as a teenager she’d been prettier than the other girls her age. Where other girls tried to land a boy with makeup, clothes and clumsy flirting, Kylie excelled at turning heads with her natural beauty and confidence. She knew what she wanted in life and didn’t have time for everyone’s bullshit games. He’d felt such a pull to her at the time, he’d had to take a step back and started seeing Taylor. While he was a senior, no one would think twice about him dating a freshman girl. It was after he graduated and she still had three more years of school that people would start having a problem with them being together. So why start something?

The first time he’d shown up at Kylie’s house and she’d opened the door in nothing but a towel had been a true test of his willpower. He’d never had to fight so hard to keep his dick under control in his life. The second time, she’d opened the door in her pajamas, which hadn’t been much better.

Ever since Race had hired her to look into Officer Miner, he’d spent more and more time thinking about her. He found himself trying to come up with reasons as to why he shouldn’t make a play for her now that they were older. The best reason he could come up with was that he shouldn’t push things with her because he could mess up their friendship if things didn’t work out.

Yeah, right. That excuse was flimsy at best.

If he truly believed that reason he wouldn’t have shown up with dinner the other night, telling himself he was just passing on a message from Race. He would have given her the message while still standing on the front porch and left. Instead, he’d come close to swallowing his tongue when she’d opened the door in white boxers and a black tank top with no bra. Fuck. Her nipples had been hard and he’d had to hold the carry-out bag in front of his growing erection.

After they’d eaten and lain down on the couch, he’d come to the conclusion that he must be a masochist. That was the only reason he could come up with for pulling her down to lie in front of him with her ass in his groin. The fact that he hadn’t pounced on her, burying his hard cock in her warm, wet pussy should have gotten him nominated for sainthood.

Even with Kylie’s body against his being torture, he’d had a really good time. He thought she was, too, until he’d pissed her off by asking for the name of the man who’d left his mark on her. He knew immediately he’d fucked up. She’d gone stiff as a board and demanded to know why it was so important that he know the man’s name and for the life of him he couldn’t come up with an answer, so he went with, “It just is.” What a lame ass, pussy answer. What was he, ten? Before he could come up with any other juvenile responses, he’d left.

Truth be told, he hated knowing some other man left his mark on her. Absolutely, hated it. If she was going to wear any man’s mark, he wanted it to be his. Wait a minute. Where did that come from?

Telling himself to leave it the fuck alone, what was done was done, he knocked on the door and prayed that she opened the door in regular clothes this time. He didn’t know if he could take much more temptation before he finally gave in and did what he’d been dying to do with her since she came back into his life several weeks ago. He didn’t understand how this crazy attraction he’d always had for her had gotten so strong.

He released the breath he’d been holding as the door swung open, happy to see her dressed in a pair of faded jeans that fit her curvy hips perfectly and another one of those silly t-shirts her sister liked to buy her. This one said “It’s not called slurring your words, it’s called talking in cursive and it’s fucking elegant.”

Tuck threw his head back and burst into laughter. “I really love the shirts your sister finds for you.”

Her smile was breathtaking and genuine. Then, as if realizing she was supposed to be mad at him, her smile dropped and she frowned. She crossed her arms over her chest and asked, “Tuck. What are you doing here?”

He felt a lightness in his chest when she smiled at him that he hadn’t felt since Taylor started her relentless campaign to reach out to him. He’d never responded to any of her numerous texts or voicemails. What was the point? She probably wanted to pretend she was sorry and want to get back together. That wasn’t fucking happening. Tulsa had been right when he’d said Tuck didn’t love Taylor. He cared about her but that was as far as it went. He was in love with the idea of being in love.

“I’m here to see if you want to go to dinner and take a ride on my bike.” He could see she was about to turn him down, but when she heard him say they could go for a bike ride, he knew he had her.

Her eyes narrowed as she chewed her bottom lip, probably wondering whether or not it was worth it to spend time with him. Admittedly, he was a bit of a dick to her the last time he was here, so it shocked the shit out of him when she said, “Okay.” She stepped back and allowed him to enter her house. “Do I need to change?”

“No. What you have on is perfect. Do you have any boots? You’re going to need a jacket, too. It’ll get cooler when the sun goes down.” He stood just inside the door, his hands tucked into his front pockets.

“Okay. Let me grab my boots and a jacket.” She disappeared down the hall, returning with a pair of worn work boots. She took a seat on the couch and shoved her feet in.

Why was seeing her in work boots so fucking sexy?

She slipped the strap of her purse over her shoulder, so the purse laid across her body, setting on her opposite hip. “Ready.”

Tuck led Kylie outside and waited for her to lock her front door. He stowed her jacket in one of his saddle bags, then helped her get the helmet on. He threw a leg over and got situated, then offered his hand to keep her balanced while she did the same. Once she was seated, he reached for her hands that were moving under his cut to grip his t-shirt at his sides. He pulled them around so they were clasping over his stomach, tucking her close. “Hold on like this.” Satisfied that she was snug against him, he started his bike and they were off.

He pointed his bike toward the opposite side of town and fifteen minutes later he pulled up outside of the restaurant Little Italy. It hadn’t occurred to him until now to ask what she’d liked to eat. Maybe she didn’t like Italian food.

Shutting his bike off, he turned on his seat and asked, “Is this okay? I should have asked if you even liked Italian food.”

“Yes, this is fine. I love Little Italy.” She braced her hands on his shoulders and helped herself off his bike. He took the helmet from her and hung it from his handlebar.

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