A Sprint To His Heart (16 page)

Chapter 16

The next morning, Piran arrived at my house bright and eager for our planned day of fun. Our first chance in a week to be together, and I’d overslept.

He eyed me with a raised eyebrow. Perhaps because I greeted him in ripped denim shorts and an old
Family Guy
shirt I’d slept in, my wavy hair shooting every which way. Or maybe because I couldn’t stop scratching a bloody mosquito bite on my thigh.

“Are you ready?” he asked in what must have been his most tactful voice.

I looked down at my attire. “No?”

He laughed. “I will wait.”

I quickly showered and dressed, then opted for a pair of dress shorts that minimized my butt and one of the few stylish tops I owned, a ruched camisole in red silk. A narrow headband kept my damp hair under control. No time for the hair dryer. I slipped on a pair of leather sandals and hurried down the stairs.

Piran rose from a kitchen chair and looked me up and down appreciatively. “Stunning, but I must admit there was something sexy about that cartoon T-shirt.”

I wrapped my arms around his waist. “I’ll be sure to wear it for you sometime.”

A wry smile crossed his face. “And nothing else?”

I giggled. “Whatever floats your boat.”

“Hmm . . .” He seemed to be deciding whether to add the saying to his collection of American idioms.

“So, where are we going?” I asked, urging him out the front door.

“Downtown,” he replied. We headed to his car, and he opened the passenger door for me.

“I could’ve saved you the trip and driven down, you know.”

He backed his Le Ferrari out of my driveway. “Yes, but would that have been safe?”

I gave him some serious side-eye. Was his question a reflection of my stodgy, slightly dented, hand-me-down car, or my driving skills? Better had been the former.

His lips rose just a fraction, but he kept his eyes on the road.

When we arrived in the city, Piran parked and led me around the block to the Museum of Contemporary Art. I hesitated. An art museum? Would I be bored out of my mind?

As we wandered through hallway after hallway of the whimsical, awesome, and bizarre—none of which I remotely thought of as ‘art’—some works made me laugh, some shocked me. Some looked like they were created by rabid monkeys high on Ecstasy. But every sculpture, picture, and weird-ass display made me feel
something
. So many times, I stopped and simply gawked. Why hadn’t I ever checked out this place before?

I squeezed Piran’s hand. “Thanks so much for bringing me here.”

He chuckled. “I knew I could bring out your creative side and turn you into an art lover.”

“I always thought of art as the stuff my mom likes. Greek statues, centuries-old Italian paintings, black-and-white photos of the dust bowl. Everything so serious, as if art is not allowed to have a sense of humor.”

He leaned over and kissed my temple. “Do you know how much I adore you? There is no trace of snobbery in your soul. No masquerade. You are delightfully unsophisticated.”

I blinked.
Unsophisticated?

His brow creased. “Indelicate? Earthy?”

I nearly choked trying to hold back a laugh. “Just call me a frumpy, stocky peasant while you’re at it.”

He threw his hands up in the air. “Your language is maddening!”

“I think the word you’re looking for is unpretentious, not putting on airs.”

“Yes!” His smile returned.

“You’re lucky I love you so much, Prince Piran of Sava.” I grabbed a belt loop of his jeans and yanked him closer. Standing on my toes, I stretched up and kissed his nose.

Spots of gold danced in his eyes. “I am indeed lucky.” He palmed my back. “Come, I have somewhere else I wish to take you.”

We drove further north to a sliver of land jutting into Lake Michigan, the Montrose Point Bird Sanctuary, refuge to what seemed like a gazillion birds. Surrounded by trees, we exited the car and entered a spot of nature hidden right in the city where fields of wildflowers and tall grasses rustled with non-stop movement. Piran inhaled deeply, and an angelic smile lit his face. A home away from home. We hiked through the meadow to a pier on Lake Michigan.

Watching the shorebirds bob along the water, my Guardian Fae wrapped his arm around me, and I felt a wonderful, strange oneness with the world, as if I was part of the earth and not just a passing participant. I wanted to take it all in—the warm afternoon sun spilling through the tall trees, dappling the paths winding through the goldenrod and thistle, the beach grasses that smelled like summer, the soothing sound of the water lapping against the pier.

I nestled against Piran’s strong chest, my connection to him stronger than ever.

But the news I’d kept from him, I couldn’t put off forever. He deserved to know. I just didn’t want to ruin the perfection of what we had.

“I have something I need to talk to you about,” I said, and led him to a bench. After we sat down, I took a deep breath, steeling myself. “Since I didn’t make the national development team and no pro team contacted me, I’ve accepted an offer to join an amateur cycling team in Colorado to train for next season.”

Unable to bring myself to look at him, I picked at the warped and split wooden bench.

“I know, Bailey,” he said quietly.

I lifted my head. “You know? From reading my mind?”

His ears reddened. “Actually, I found out from Tolmin, who found out from Kelsi.”

“Why haven’t you said anything?”

He didn’t reply, and I couldn’t stop the thought racing through my mind. My chest tightened. Did he not care?

He tilted his head, regarding me. “What would I have said? That I am happy you will be living halfway across the country?”

Wincing slightly from the tone of his voice, I swallowed hard.

He rested his hands on his knees, but I noticed the tension in his long fingers. “How can I explain to my family that my beautiful girlfriend does not honor our traditions?”

“Your . . . your family?” I stammered. “Hold on. You always talk about how your parents don’t understand you, how they don’t see things your way. Now you’re pulling the family card?”

His turn to wince. “You are angry with me,” he replied, his expression contrite.

“No,” I protested, but my shoulders sagged. I rubbed my upper arms, trying to make sense of my conflicted emotions. “Well, maybe. A little. I mean, you’re the most confident and together person I know, and then you act—”

“Stop. You are correct.” His mouth thinned. “I was wrong to use my family as an excuse. I am . . . what is that called? Grasping at straws? I just cannot bear to be without you.”

My hands felt like ice against my bare skin. Damn, I knew this wouldn’t be easy. “Lots of couples have long-distance relationships.”

“Human couples,” he replied. Sadness marred his gorgeous features.

I bit the inside of my cheek. Were humans that different from the Guardian Fae?

We sat muted as gulls flapped around us, their boisterous calls a stark contrast to our mood. Hovering and darting about, the birds squealed, bleated, and laughed, as if to mock us for taking our problems so seriously. Then again, gulls scavenged from garbage cans.

“I understand how important bike racing is to you,” Piran finally said, gazing out over the water. “As important as my art is to me.” He turned to me. “You mean the world to me, Bailey, but I would never ask you to choose between me and your dream. We will find a way to make it work.”

I threw my arms around him and buried my face in his neck. It didn’t matter how different we were or the distance we would endure. All that mattered was our love.

He stroked my hair. “When are you leaving?”

“Not for another week.”

He stood and gripped my hands in his, warmth returning to his eyes. “In that case, do you wish to see my apartment this evening?”

I smiled. No. Actually, I grinned.

We sped through the city, arriving at his building in record time. On the elevator ride to the top floor, I tugged on my shorts, my stomach a jumble of nerves, my throat dry. He guided me into his spacious apartment. Soft light bathed the hardwood floors.

“What a view,” I said, gazing out a bank of windows at the haze of skyscrapers.

“I agree.”

I glanced over my shoulder. He wasn’t looking out the window.

He gripped me around the waist, holding me in place. A warm hand crept up my back and pushed my hair aside. Soft lips gently kissed the side of my neck, and I felt his bare chest press into my spine.

“I untied my braid,” he whispered, his breath feathering over my ear.

Oh God.

My thighs clenching, I twisted around. His blond hair flowed over his wide shoulders. My gaze traveled down his torso, and I nearly melted, wanting to lose myself in the strong, hard lines of his body.

I gave him a shy smile. Hmm, maybe not
too
shy.

Flecks of red dotted his irises. “Miss Bailey Meyers. You have a two-track mind.”

“One-track,” I murmured, licking my lips.

“No. Two-track. Me and . . .” his voice lowered “ . . . what you plan to do to me.”

Oh yes, what I planned to do to him. Flashing him a wicked grin, I trailed my fingers down his chest. His skin flushed with warmth. His blood pulsed beneath my touch. I allowed my hands to meander across his tight abs, and he closed his eyes, parting his lips. I rolled my hips across the bulge of his jeans, and he bit off a pained groan.

Damn, I loved the effect I had on him. I wrapped my arms around his waist and pressed my lips to his taut skin. “Guess what?” I whispered.

“Bring it on,” he replied with a grin. He led the way to his bedroom.

Before I knew it, his mouth attacked mine, and a moan caught in my throat. His kiss seemed to engulf me as his sweet, warm breath filled my lungs. Grasping and needy, he tugged off my camisole. Then I drew back, and he wasted no time unlatching my bra and sliding it down my arms. His hands cupped my breasts, pressing them together, his thumbs running over my hardening nipples. But when he lowered his head and devoured them, I nearly died.

Light-headed, I shuddered, abandoning myself to the pleasure of his touch, his mouth. Everything else faded from focus. His dresser, the television on the wall, the comforter. Nothing existed but Piran. His hard muscles, his masculine woodsy scent. The heat of his skin on mine. The unbelievable way he filled me with desire.

Without hesitation, I pushed him onto his bed and climbed over him. Holding down his shoulders with my hands, I dragged my teeth along his ear, relishing the way his muscles flexed and tightened beneath me, his breaths rapid and shallow.

I worked his faded jeans down his thighs and tossed them on the floor. Holy fuck, he looked hot in nothing but black boxer briefs. But I couldn’t wait to feel his smooth hardness again. I slid my hand under the waistband and grasped his erection.

He groaned, his eyes flaring red.

“Take off your shorts,” he demanded in a rough voice.

“Not unless you say please,” I murmured, easing his briefs down to his ankles.

He kicked them off, and his gaze followed my every move as I slid off the bed and toyed with the top button of my shorts. I leaned over and scrolled my fingernails across his bare chest.

“Bailey,” he said through a hiss of breath, his jaw clenched. “Do you have any idea what you do to me?”

“What’s the magic word?” I bent down and flicked my tongue across his nipple.

His chest heaved, and he gripped the bed. “For all the gold in Ireland,
please
take those damn shorts off before I rip them off you.”

His words brought out something in me I’d never felt before. More than mere desire. Confidence. Power.

I unzipped my shorts and dropped them to the floor, then rolled down my panties and tossed them aside. For a moment, I simply stood there, unabashedly inviting his stare.

“You are beautiful,” he whispered.

He reached out for me, and I knew exactly what I wanted to do. I straddled his hips and palmed his considerable length. After giving a teasing lick to the tip, I guided him exactly to where I needed. His large hands clung to my hips as I slowly descended.

We both gasped from the joining.

I rocked up and down, lost in the unbelievable sensations. Lost in our world.

“Bailey,” he moaned. “You are amazing.” His hands roamed all over my body, squeezing my breasts, my hips, my ass.

I felt like a diva. A sexy, in-control diva.

He kept saying my name as he thrust upward, his deep voice spurring my excitement higher and higher. Sparks thrummed through my body, bringing me to the apex. Fingers dug into my sides as spasms racked Piran’s body. A guttural groan escaped his lips. Feeling his climax pulse inside me sent me over the edge and I exploded in a fireball of ecstasy.

I collapsed over him, totally spent. I couldn’t have moved a muscle even if I’d wanted to.

Once I could breathe normally again, I eased onto my side and snuggled in his arms. Savoring our time together, I studied my Guardian prince, the radiant glow on his face a testament to our pleasure. Was it this amazing for everyone?

“Only for us,” he noted in a blissful but sleepy voice.

I poked him in the ribs. “Hey, no falling asleep. You need to drive me home.”

“Not yet,” he murmured and lightly kissed my neck. Except he didn’t stop there. His silky hair fanned over his shoulders while he worked his way down to my stomach.