A Sprint To His Heart (25 page)

My heartbeat pulsed heavy in my head.

I clenched his T-shirt, and within seconds, the shirt lay discarded on the floor. Desperate to explore the arcs and lines of his body, I ran my hands over every inch of his warm skin. His heavy-lidded eyes flared as my fingers approached the waistband of his jeans.

Together we stood and tore off the rest of our clothes in a rush.

He pressed me up against a wall, his breaths rough and ragged. Holding the back of my head, he kissed me. Deeply. Passionately. Lightning raced up my spine.

I couldn’t think. I couldn’t move. I didn’t want to.

His hips flexed against me, and sensation spiked between my thighs. “Now, Piran,” I begged. “Please.”

He shook his head and kissed my neck. His hands trailed down my breasts to my centerline, followed soon by his mouth, his touch transporting me to another time and place.

I sighed in pleasure. Now this was a punishment worth waiting for.

Resting beside Piran on the bed, I stroked his chest. “Would you really have abdicated your title as Prince of Sava?”

A sad gray washed through his eyes. “Yes. I still might.”

“Because of me?”

He hedged. “I am not the best choice for the throne. My cousin Sared is far more suited to a life of lordship and ceremony. Even my second cousin Malija would be better than I. Perhaps the throne will pass from my father to my child or grandchild. But that is in the future.” He cupped my chin and looked into my eyes. “What is important now is that my parents understand how deeply I care for you.”

I let him kiss my neck, savoring the warmth of his breath on my bare skin. “What will you do now? Will you return to Sava?”

“No. Find a new apartment and return to the university. I love America, and Chicago is a wonderful city.” He drew back. “What are your plans?”

The hesitation in his voice cut me to the bone, and I sighed. On the cusp of a professional cycling career, and yet unsure if I wanted to take it. Was I so weak I’d quit my dream at the first sign of difficulty?

“You are not weak,” Piran said. “You are the strongest person I know.” He squinted down to where I was tracing letters on his abs. “You love sloths?”

“No, I didn’t write that,” I said with a laugh.

He wrapped his arms around me and pulled me close. “I love you too.”

His whispered words lingered in my ear, and right then, I made the decision not to be an alternate rider for the Tour of Qatar. With Piran back in Chicago, I didn’t want to leave the country for three weeks.

But I wasn’t sure what I
did
want. Could I pursue a professional cycling career and still be with the man I loved? Could a prince of the largest Fae realm honor his kingdom and still be with the human woman he loved?

Wasn’t there a way for us to have it all?

Chapter 26

The following day I called Shannon and for some reason asked about Jose. Maybe I felt sorry for the guy because I finally had a glimpse of where he was coming from. Taking care of his sick mom, doping just to win race money, and banned by the U.S. Cycling Federation. With a broken leg, he’d be out of the racing business for a while, sanctioned
or
dark Fae.

“Jose is good,” Shannon replied. “Been at the studio practicing.”

“Studio?”

“I forgot to tell you,” she said excitedly. “The local cable news channel hired him to be a sports commentator for dark Fae races. No more doping!”

“Wow. He should have broken his leg sooner.”

She laughed. “No kidding. Hey, want to go to the lake today?”

“Sure. I need to work on blending my cycling tan lines. I have the whitest thighs in the world.”

“Me too. I’ll ride over to your house.”

“Sounds good.”

I rummaged through my dresser and found a bikini. Squinting at myself in the mirror, I tugged on the suit. Hmm . . . not too bad. The muscular look was growing on me. I covered the bikini with a pair of denim shorts and a camisole, then shoved a few things into a messenger bag and slung it over my shoulder.

Since my road bike was still in Colorado, I dragged my dad’s virtually unused mountain bike from the garage.

Shannon swung by fifteen minutes later, and we headed south.

On our way to the lake, three guys on bikes rode up beside us.

“Nice wheels,” one of the guys said to Shannon. He smirked. “Kinda overkill, don’t you think? That’s a racing bike, sweetheart.”

“Really?” she drawled. I could literally hear her teeth grind.

“You race?” I asked the guys. I’d never seen them before.

“We compete in triathlons,” the thinnest of the three replied, squaring his shoulders, not like that could possibly make him seem tough. “You know, swim, bike, run.”

“Cool. So which of the three is your weak sport?”

He blinked. “Well, uh . . .”

“Wanna bet it’s cycling?” Shannon asked me.

The third guy pointed to the distinct cycling tan line on my thighs and groaned in realization. “If you’re a road racer, how come you’re riding that piece of junk?”

“It’s my dad’s. My road bike is in Colorado.”

“How about a short race along the lake path?” the first guy asked, his cocky expression conveying his confidence that Shannon and I would be left in their dust.

I resisted the urge to scoff. What was it with guys challenging female athletes?

“Sure,” Shannon replied, a gleam in her eye.

After we followed them onto the lake path, cocky-guy waved us forward. “Ladies first.”

A look of disgust crossed Shannon’s face. She lifted off her saddle, not even bothering to pretend to give the triathletes a fighting chance. “Bye, bye, boys.”

My dad’s old mountain bike, while heavy, didn’t stop me from keeping pace with her. Not surprisingly, the guys gave chase. The skinny one actually had some speed in his legs and hung on my back wheel. But I blocked his every attempt to pass me. If he wanted a challenge, I’d give him one.

“First one to the next water fountain gets twenty bucks!” Shannon cried, pumping her fist in the air.

“Serious?” I asked.

She laughed. “Think you can beat me in that clunker?”

“Oh, it’s on,” I replied, slamming down on the mountain bike’s thick pedals.

But she’d already got the jump on me and sped off. Then skinny-guy pulled a slingshot move and whipped past me! What? No way.

I cranked up the strokes, and my dad’s poor bike groaned. “You can do this,” I said, patting the steel top tube. Taking advantage of the bike’s thick, nubby tires, I rode off the paved path and onto the gravel. A quick glance over my shoulder revealed the two other triathletes struggling, but showing no signs of giving up. “Come on guys,” I yelled. “Pick up the pace.”

Cocky-guy flipped me the finger. I laughed and pedaled faster.

Skirting ahead of skinny-guy, I slung my body down low and laid it on to catch Shannon. Once I did, we edged wheel to wheel as we passed the water fountain together.

“Yes!” I shouted, sliding my bike into the grass.

Shannon followed me, a big grin on her face. “Photo finish!”

Skinny-guy dismounted and clutched his chest. “Whew. I haven’t ridden that fast in a long time.”

The other two triathletes caught up and dismounted.

“I stand corrected,” cocky-guy said, wiping sweat from his brow. “You girls are badass. Whadda say we hang out this weekend? Maybe hit up a party?”

“Sorry, we’ll be busy,” Shannon replied, examining her fingernails.

“All weekend?”

She pursed her lips. “Yup. All weekend.”

Skinny-guy laughed. “Oooh. Burned twice, Haiden.”

“Shut up, asshole.” Haiden mounted his bike, and the other two guys bent over laughing.

Skinny-guy winked at us. “A swim race next time?”

“Sure,” I said with a smile. Fat chance in hell, but he didn’t have to know I could barely survive in a kiddie pool. Shannon and I waved them off and propped our bikes against a tree.

Laying on the grass, soaking up the warm sun and lake breeze, I realized Piran was right—there was no place like Chicago. But staying meant I’d have little chance of pursuing my cycling dreams. As much as I loved Piran, I couldn’t squelch my competitive drive or deny the thrill of racing. The impromptu contest against the triathletes had chased away the fear I’d felt in the Silesia pro race. Well, at least chased it to a distant memory.

Even if I had lost a bit of my mojo, the desire to win still flowed through my veins. Except I had no idea
where
to race. Professional festival races in Europe with their lack of crowd control were crazy. I would not do that again. I could return to Colorado and continue training with the Lady Spinners. Maybe still have a chance of being selected for the U.S. National Team. Even though there were only a few pro races in the states, I could gain experience before a big-name European team called.

I twiddled a blade of grass between my thumbs. If I gave up racing to be with Piran, I might only end up resenting him. But how would he feel if I returned to Colorado? Would he be satisfied with a long-distance relationship held together with phone calls, texts, and facetime?

Lake waves sloshed over the rocky shore, and I shielded my eyes from the sun with my hand. If only life came with a magic eight ball.

“You ready to leave?” Shannon asked, pulling me from my thoughts. “I’m turning into a lobster here.”

At least my burn would turn into a tan, unlike Shannon. She’d just get more freckles. We straddled our bikes and enjoyed an easy ride back to Evanston. Shannon veered off toward her house, and I headed home where I helped Kelsi set the table for dinner.

While we ate, Dad couldn’t stop smiling. He even ate Mom’s broccoli casserole without complaining. As she washed the dishes, he finally spilled. “I have good news. We’re staying here. My job is not being transferred.”

Kelsi jumped up and hugged him. “Thank you. Thank you.”

“Hey, thank my boss,” Dad replied with a laugh.

“I have to call Noelle and let her know!” Kelsi tore out of the kitchen and bounded up the stairs.

Her face damn near glowing, Mom set her hand on Dad’s shoulder. He gave her ‘the look’. Eww.

“I think I’ll go upstairs too,” I said and made a hasty departure.

Once in my bedroom, I plopped on my bed, and my phone rang. I recognized Kate’s number from the Lady Spinners in Colorado. Serendipity? I hit the Answer key. “Hi, Kate.”

“Hi, Bailey,” she replied. “I heard you did great in your first pro race in Europe.”

“Hey, thanks. There were a few rough moments, but at least I finished.”

“Daria told me you wouldn’t be joining Team Ibsy for the Tour of Qatar. Will you be returning to the Lady Spinners?”

“Yes!”

The words were out of my mouth before I lost my nerve. Before I gave up on my cycling dream forever. Re-joining the Lady Spinners would put at least that particular aspect of my life into place.

But now came the hard part—telling Piran.

After I disconnected the call with Kate, I tapped his name on my screen.

He answered on the first ring.

Walking to the bike shop the following morning, frustrated and unsure of my future with my Guardian prince, I tripped on a curb and dropped my overly-priced cappuccino on the ground. The top popped off, spilling the entire contents into the street. I stared up at the sky. Really?

I almost turned around and went back home. Instead, I trudged the rest of the way to work, feeling like a black cloud surrounded me.

Behind the front counter, I heaved boxes aside in a heap, grumbling under my breath. Where were yesterday’s receipts?

“Rough night?” Nick asked as I stomped around the show room.

I withheld my answer until after ringing up a BMX bike for a middle-aged dad hovering over his son. I took note of the guy’s daughter and her pink, sparkly shorts and Hello Kitty high-tops. “We have this really cool racing BMX bike in pink and black,” I said to the girl. “Want to see it?”

The dad’s expression soured as he glanced from me to his daughter.

“Yeah, girls race too,” I snapped, handing the guy his receipt. He grabbed his daughter’s hand and dragged her to the door. “Have a nice day,” I called out. “And thank you for shopping at Harbor Bike and Ski.”

I turned to see Nick shaking his head.

“Piran and I had a fight last night,” I said, explaining my less than cheerful mood. I took a deep breath. “I’ve decided to return to the Lady Spinners team in Colorado.”

Nick popped open a can of soda. “Let me guess. He’s not too happy about that.”

“Exactly.” I stacked boxes of helmets. “I just don’t know what to do.”

“Have you ever considered a collegiate cycling team instead? A couple guys at my university race in collegiate national races. You should check into that. You can always try for a pro team next season. In the meantime, you can get a year of grad school out of the way.”

I squirmed. “I don’t know. Graduate school?”

“Always good to have a back-up plan, Bails.”

“Now look who’s being an adult.”

He grinned, then chugged the rest of his soda and pounded his chest, letting a belch rip. Tyler gave him a high-five, and I rolled my eyes. Amateurs. I could recite nearly half the alphabet on a single belch.

I began cleaning the glass display cases. Hmm…a collegiate racing team. Maybe Nick was right and I could race while earning a Master’s degree. If I found a school nearby, I could stay closer to Piran.

On my break, I borrowed Nick’s laptop. What were the chances I’d find a college with graduate programs, within driving distance,
and
with a cycling team?

But I did. Evergreen University, an hour’s drive west of Chicago. Their varsity cycling team paid for race entry fees, team jerseys, and race-day travel fees. Oh, and provided scholarships.

I actually laughed out loud. Was this a sign?

Tyler gave me an odd look and I shooed him off. It was mid-September. Too late to apply for fall semester. Maybe spring? I completed the school’s online application, adding an explanation in the comments section to explain the reason for the late application. Then I requested my transcripts be sent. I leaned back, shaking my head in disbelief. Graduate school. No guarantees, but at least I could say I tried.

It had begun to rain and the store had no customers. I texted Piran, but got no response. He wasn’t much of a texter though . . . or maybe he was still too upset to talk to me. The idea of racking up frequent-flier miles didn’t appeal to him. Couldn’t really blame him. A long-distance relationship wasn’t my first choice either.

I slipped my phone back into my pocket and busied myself with sorting racks of sporting apparel, anything to keep my mind occupied.

“Bails.”

I glanced over at Nick, who nodded toward the front of the shop.

As Piran approached, I blurted out, “I applied to a graduate school just outside of Chicago.”

“I applied for a museum internship in Denver.”

My mouth opened, but I merely licked my lips, trying to gain my equilibrium and a cognizant thought. “You did that for me?”

“I would do anything for you.”

Oh God. His smile melted my heart, and tears welled in my eyes. I knew right then we’d make this work somehow. We’d find a way to be with each other
and
pursue our dreams. Somehow our love would guide us.

I ran to him and wrapped my arms around him, gazing up at his exquisite face. “Whoever is accepted first determines where we go?”

He tilted his head. “And if both our applications are successful?”

I grinned. “You go to Colorado and I stay here?”

“You be an artist and I race a bicycle?” he countered with a playful tug on my ponytail.

“I think you’d win that switch.”

“Ah, sweet Bailey. I never thought I would find myself heels over head in love.”

“Head over heels,” I corrected, and we both laughed.

His expression turned serious as his long fingers stroked my face. “As long as we can be together, I do not care where we are.”

I drew in a deep breath. “But you are a prince with a commitment to your kingdom, in a realm where I can’t—”