Thunder Road: Walk The Edge Part 32

I never betrayed her secret. Instead I've let it eat me from the inside out.

A rush of air escapes my lips. His mother didn't commit suicide. I'm utterly relieved for him and still devastated for me. Year after year, Razor grew up tortured by the gossip of everyone in town, grew up believing that his mother chose to take her own life rather than to be with him. The entire time, the people who think they know everything knew nothing, but the emotional damage has already been done. The same damage that's already been done to me.

I stare at his mother's picture. She was beautiful. Blond hair. Sky-blue eyes. She has a fantastic smile. Mom says she was smart and full of life and Rebecca said that being a club girl isn't for everyone. Is it for me?

My eyes dip to a picture of Razor, Chevy and Oz crouched near a motorcycle. They're flipping off the camera and they grin as if they were laughing like children.

"I like it when you smile." Razor strides into the room and I jump. I hadn't realized I had been smiling, but I got lost in the pictures. As weird as his world is to me, I do strangely find myself gravitating toward it. As if I do belong.

An undertow of sadness yanks me down. I finally find a place I belong and I'm being ripped away. I'll have to tell him and doing so is going to break my heart.

I gesture to the picture. "This reminds me of the night of orientation. You were working on your motorcycle then, too."

Razor gathers me so that his front warms my back. He props his chin on my shoulder and his breath tickles the sensitive spot behind my ear. A wave of pleasure races through me.

"So you were checking me out that night." The smugness radiating from him is so sickening that I mock elbow him and he fake flinches as if I hurt him. I drank Razor in that evening, and I lean back into him now, reveling in the fact that, at least in this moment, he's mine.

"We need to talk." Razor loses his lightness, and I'm not ready for us to confront reality-the logic of our situation.

"We do." I pivot in his arms so we're face-to-face. "But you made a promise to me about you healing and then us being alone, and I know how you are about your promises."

Razor goes completely still, and as he blinks back to life, he tunnels his fingers into my hair. "Breanna, those are words I fantasize about hearing you say, but we have time."

I shift my weight because we don't have time.

His fingers ease farther into my hair until he cups my head. "I know Kyle sent the picture to your parents. Addison told me they're sending you away. I know you're scared this is-"

"The end," I finish for him. "I need us to make memories."

Razor's eyes shut like my words cause him pain and it's not what I want. He lowers his forehead to mine. "We're going to figure this out."

We won't, and a lump in the back of my throat confirms this. "Their decision is made. There's nothing I can do or say to make any of this go away."

"No, Breanna." His voice cracks and it causes a flash of agony in my chest. "Let's take a few steps back, talk this out, solve the puzzle-"

I kiss him. My mouth on his. Without fear. Without thought. All of my emotions, my love, my trust wrapped up in this embrace. Our lips move in time. Too fast, almost desperate.

There's an ache within me-a curling of warmth in my stomach. It's like an indescribable, beautiful need, a desire even, and it's calling for Razor to touch me, to ravish me, to bring me to this glorious high only he has brought me to before.

His fingers gently pull on my hair, creating pleasing tingles that zap to my toes, and my hands find his chest. Through the fabric of his shirt, I explore his muscles, but this isn't enough. I crave the warmth of his skin, and for there to be absolutely nothing between us.

As I reach the hem of his shirt, my wrist b.u.mps his cut and my eyes snap open. I draw in a breath and Razor is looking down at me with the deepest blue eyes.

"You can take it off," he says, and the thought of doing so terrifies me and causes a spark of joy. He doesn't allow anyone to handle his cut, and when someone does touch it, they're careful to avoid his patches.

I reach under the leather, up to his strong shoulders, and keeping my hands safely inside the cut, I slowly edge it off his arms. It's like a countdown. The moment this is off, everything will become discarded. My shirt and his. His jeans and possibly mine. We'll be tangled and touching and everything I need this moment to be.

I lick my bottom lip and heat rushes through me as Razor's eyes track the movement. That provocative feral glint appears in his eyes again. It's like we're becoming victims of pure, unadulterated instinct.

My fingertips graze along his arms, over his biceps, along the inside of his wrist, and with each second that pa.s.ses, my heart rate increases. Faster and faster and faster.

His cut skims over his hands, and when he grips it, my heart stutters with the switch in pace. Razor takes over. Easing his cut off, he folds it, then reverently places it on his dresser.

Razor circles an arm around me, and a smile bursts from me when he lifts me off the floor and carries me to his bed. He's gentle as he lays me down. My head settles into the huge pillow and my body is cradled by the blanket beneath me.

Razor yanks his shirt over his head to reveal all his beauty and he kneels. One knee against my outer thigh. The other tucked between my legs. His fingers pace the inner seam of my jeans-the area above my knee. A heightened sense of awareness causes my cells to awaken.

He leans down, situates his hands on either side of me, but hovers his body wickedly away from mine. "I'm in love with you. This isn't a memory, but a promise, do you hear me?"

I hear him and his words cause a pain in my chest. One of my hands slides along his spine and another touches his cheek. His jaw is smooth and his blond hair falls so that it almost covers his eyes. I'm in love with him and I'll take whatever I can get from Razor-his love, his memory, a promise. "I love you, too."

He drops his head and kisses my neck. It's a long kiss, an enduring one. It causes goose b.u.mps along my arms and my blood to hum. His hands are magic, creating a tingling sensation wherever they roam. Down my arms, along my sides, up again as he tugs at my shirt.

His lips meet mine and we're both leaning up, my hands over my head. We briefly separate as the material is eased off my body and tossed to the floor. My back arches as he begins this slow, seductive trail of kisses.

Soon, there's no material between our chests and he touches and kisses and nips and his hands move lower. My body and Razor's rock in the same rhythm that's being synchronized by our pulses. I suck in an audible breath that partly describes the intense pleasure.

Razor moans and the sound drives me close to the brink of insanity.

His body glides against mine as he drags himself toward me for more kisses. These are on fire and intense and it's like we can't satisfy this building hunger.

The world spins, several times, and I'm touching and he's touching and we're kissing and there's whispers. Lots of whispers of love and of G.o.d and there's this warmth. Oh, this warmth. It's hot and it's consuming and it's spreading and then my muscles tense and an explosion.

Colors and sounds and a rush and then I'm gasping for air.

Lots of air. Razor's breathing hard beside me, cradling my head, kissing my lips, my cheeks, and whispering that this was right, and he utters those magical words again. "I love you."

RAZOR.

CLOSE TO NAKED and tangled with me in my bed, Breanna's head is on my chest and she tells me everything. From Kyle, to her parents, to her siblings' reaction and the bad news I had hoped was wrong-that Breanna is being sent to private school-that she's being sent away from me. I'm not Chevy and I don't have any more tricks up my sleeve. Her parents are packing her up and Kyle still holds all the cards.

As she talks, I stare at the ceiling, graze my fingers up and down her bare back and search for a solution, but I keep circling back to the same place-with a solution she won't easily accept.

Breanna falls silent, and I give her a few seconds in case she remembers something else or I can create some brilliant plan. Neither happens.

"Can I tell you something?" she asks.

I fist her long raven hair and kiss her forehead. "Anything."

Breanna lightly brushes her fingernails over my chest and her apprehension is palpable.

"Tell me," I say.

"The night I met you, going to that private school was my dream. I would have given anything for my parents to say yes."

I swallow the fear nagging at me. "And now?"

She lifts her head and the pain in her eyes is her answer. "I don't want to go, not like this. Not because of this. Not because I'm in love with you and they won't give you a chance."

I trace her cheekbone and weigh her words. There's a part of her that wants to go, and why wouldn't she? This is a place that can challenge that perfect brain of hers, a place where she'll meet other people like her, a place where, as she said, she'll fit in and meet her tribe.

Just like how I have a tribe-my club. A group of men who understand there are days I want to talk and days I don't. A group of men who I have proudly taken a bullet for and who would take the same bullet for me again and again. A group of men who are begging me to love and trust them the way they crave to love and trust me. A group that I've hurt because I can't get past my own demons.

"I f.u.c.ked up with Kyle and I'm sorry it's costing you."

She offers a sad smile that breaks my heart. "You tried, and that means everything to me. It's okay. I'll write the papers. At least being a hundred miles away will keep Kyle from tormenting me on a daily basis."

But he'll still torture her, possibly worse because he'll hate the loss of control that comes with not being able to confront her in person. f.u.c.k that. Trying isn't good enough. "There's a way to fix it with Kyle. The path I should have taken and I was too stupid and prideful to do it."

And she's now paying for my moronic choices.

"What do you mean?" Breanna leans forward on her bent arm and drags a sheet up to cover her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. Her modesty reminds me how different we are.

I stare straight into her hazel eyes, which are widening. Twenty dollars she already knows. She's Einstein and those pieces are already put together in her head.

"It's the only way," I say.

She's shaking her head. "You promised me the club would stay out of this."

"They can do what I can't. They can make this problem go away."

"How?" Her voice grows in volume. "How are they going to make it go away? Are they going to hurt him? Are they going to make him disappear like Mia Ziggler?"

"Is that where we're at? Back to believing rumors spread by a bunch of a.s.sholes?"

Breanna slams her mouth shut and looks down, but anger causes her body to tense. "I've told you, I trust you. Just because I trust you doesn't mean I trust your club-"

"I am the club." I cut her off and point at the tattoos of fire on my arms. "I have never not been the club."

"That's not true. You've been doubting them since we met. That's the whole reason why we continued to talk. You needed proof about your mother because you didn't trust them. I don't claim to understand everything that happened the other night, but I saw the look on your face, I heard you yelling at them. I know they lied to you and I know you aren't okay with it."

"That's between me and them." I scoot to the edge of the bed, grabbing my jeans. "I'm talking about you and me. I'm talking about keeping you safe."

She laughs and it's a bit hysterical as she grabs for her clothes. "You didn't trust them to take care of your mother and yet you expect me to trust them with my problems? With my life?"

I flinch as if her words were a switchblade. "I'm asking you to trust me and I've already explained I am the club. I will not allow Kyle to continue to blackmail you."

Breanna works under the sheet to get her bra back on and I use that time to shrug on my jeans. I'm so f.u.c.king p.i.s.sed that when I shove my foot through, I rip the already frayed cuff. She slides out of the bed and she's also brewing with enough ticked-off energy that it's not long before, like me, her shirt and jeans are on, too. The silence is sharp enough that it could cut us. I roll my neck and try to fight the feeling she's slipping away.

"In case you're wondering." A snap from her laces as she double knots. "None of this is your decision. It's mine. I asked for your help, you tried and it didn't work, so now I'm choosing to write his papers."

"Is that what you want? Because it won't stop there. It will never stop. s.h.i.t like this, Breanna, it's not about the endgame of the f.u.c.king papers, it's about control."

"You don't think I know that? You don't think I know this is about control? I'm the one under his thumb. I'm the puppet being played. I'm the one whose future is being decided by some guy who has to act dominant to make himself feel better."

I stretch out my arms, desperate for her to understand. "Then let me help. Let me do what needs to be done."

"Why? So you can be in control?"

"Are you comparing me to that b.a.s.t.a.r.d?"

"Yes. No. You and Kyle are two different people. Not just on the outside, but the inside, as well. You would never treat a girl like he's treating me, but you guys do have one thing in common and that is control. You want to fix things, you want to protect people, you want to take the bullet, and I'm telling you, it's not your choice to take the bullet on this."

"When Kyle's around, do you know what I see? Fear. And f.u.c.k me for not wanting the girl I love to be scared. Fear-that's not you. You are one of the few people I know who is truly fearless."

"You've made that girl up in your head! She doesn't exist. At least she doesn't exist in me, because all I am is scared. I've been scared for years! Scared someone will make fun of me. Scared someone will make me the b.u.t.t of their jokes. Scared I'll stick out too much. Scared that if I do too much or say too much or do too well, that I'm going to hurt the people around me, and I can't take that burden, not anymore."

She claws at her shirt as if she's suffocating. "I don't want to hurt people and I'm scared, but what terrifies me the most is that I will never be as free to be myself as I am with you. I'm terrified I'm going to be in this box forever and I have to be. I have to stay just as I am."

Breanna's chest rises and sinks too fast and my instincts flare. There's more happening than Kyle. "What's going on?"

"Nothing." It falls out of her mouth as an automatic response and I'm not buying it.

"You're talking like I'm an outsider. You act like I'm not involved with this."

Breanna knots her hair at the base of her neck. "I am not your club! There is no in or out. This is my problem, not yours and it sure as h.e.l.l isn't the club's problem, either. I'll handle this my way because my way won't end up with someone possibly being hurt."

"So you're going to do what you do at school? You're going to hide?" A wave of anger and hurt ripples through me and it's building into a tsunami.

Her eyes narrow into slits. "What happened to me being fearless?"

"I don't know. Maybe I have it wrong, because the girl I love wouldn't be asking me to b.u.t.t out, but would keep me involved."

"This isn't about you! This is about me and I'm trying desperately to keep my world from falling apart. That picture can destroy what little I have left."

"Are you ashamed of me?" I spit out. "Was I a piece to a puzzle for you and now that the puzzle isn't working I'm being discarded?"

Shock and hurt cloud her face. "Why would you say that? I just did things with you that I have never done with anyone else. I have loved you like I have loved no one else. I'm standing here in your house, defying my family, hurting them because I love you!"

p.i.s.sed at myself, my entire body becomes a steamroller and I throw my fist into the wall. Breanna jumps and I press my hands over my face and scrub the skin as if that could erase the past few minutes.

I don't know what the f.u.c.k I'm saying anymore. She's leaving. After she walks out that door, I don't know when I'll see her again, if I'll see her again, and she's leaving with more problems than she had to begin with.

I'm hurt, she's hurt and we're only hurting each other more. As always, I'm cursed. She came searching for a memory and I'm sure as h.e.l.l giving her one. Just the nightmare version everyone else in town also shares of me.

I take a deep breath and search for a semicoherent thought. "Breanna, I'm sorr-"

"Take me home." She wraps her arms around herself and I curse when I spot the tears lining the bottom rim of her eyes.

"We can't leave it like this between us."

"I'm not ashamed of you." Her voice cracks and that tears me up.

"I know." And those words that other people are good at saying, I find myself lost trying to form.

"Tell me you aren't going to the club about the picture and Kyle."

I wish I could lie to her, but I can't. I f.u.c.king can't. "I don't know."