The First Rule by Nicole S. Goodin

9

Darcy

“Cheers.”He holds up his mocktail glass to clink it against mine. “To us.”

I can’t help but laugh – he’s so rugged and manly, the fact that he’s holding a fruity, pink and orange drink that contains not a drop of alcohol but does have a pretty little pink umbrella in it, is hilarious to me. But he insisted.

I’m not drinking alcohol, so neither is he. Apparently, it’s as simple as that. I’ve just learnt that he doesn’t mind the occasional cigarette from time to time as well, but that he threw out the pack the day that I agreed to come and live with him.

I don’t know what I did to deserve someone so incredibly supportive in my life, but whatever it was, I couldn’t be more grateful.

Ryan is more than I ever could have imagined or wished for. It feels wrong to think it, because I doubt he’d like the comparison, but he’s all of Jacob’s good parts, mixed in with even more amazing qualities of his own. I’m struggling to find a flaw with the man.

“Anything else you’ve been secretly giving up out of sympathy?” I tease as he sips his drink and then looks at it in surprise.

He shakes his head. “Nope. Just the drink, smokes and my bike.”

He says it so causally it takes me a minute to register what he’s said.

He picks up his menu and starts glancing over it. “What do you feel like eating? No shellfish for us, you better add that to the list of things I’m giving up.”

“I’m sorry, can we just back up for a second here?”

He looks up and frowns at me. “You can’t have shellfish, princess, it said in the book. And no soft cheeses.” He frowns as he looks at the menu again, no doubt scanning it for soft cheeses now.

I giggle at the concerned look on his face. He’s so sweet, I almost can’t handle it. I found him reading a pregnancy book the other day – he looked so sheepish, as though I would have expected him to be an expert with no need for a book. Truth be told, he’s probably more informed than I am – I’m still living in a state of denial about how this baby is going to get out of me and into the world.

“Not about the seafood.” I shake my head in amusement. “About the bike.”

“What about it?”

“You don’t ride your bike anymore?” I push.

“Nah, I’m selling it, so I don’t want to tick up any more miles.” His focus shifts back to the menu. “The chicken sounds like a bit of me.”

“Ryan!” I half yell, half laugh. “Put the freaking menu down for five seconds. I know you’re hungry, but I need to know why the hell you’re selling your bike. I thought you loved that thing.”

He looks at me as though he doesn’t understand my confusion but sets the menu down on the table. “Because I’m going to be a dad,” he replies, as though it should be obvious to me.

“What does being a dad have to do with you not riding a bike?”

“Everything, Darce.” He meets my gaze, and I melt at the tenderness there. “I haven’t ridden that bike since the day you told me you were pregnant. Those things are a death trap, I’ve got responsibilities now – a family to take care of. I don’t want to take that kind of risk for a thrill.”

I don’t know if I’m overwhelmed by his total dedication to me and our baby, or if it’s pure pregnancy hormones, but I feel my eyes turn glassy.

“Don’t you dare cry,” he warns me, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

I think it’s too late to be stopped, but I try and blink back the tears that are threatening to spill over in the middle of this crowded restaurant.

“I know it’s over the top and stupid, and I know plenty of parents still ride, but I’m happy to give it up. It’s nothing to me. Plus, I know you hate them.”

He’s right, I’m not a fan of bikes, they seem so fast and dangerous, but I don’t recall ever telling him that. It confuses me sometimes; he knows things about me that I have no recollection of ever talking to him about. We’ve barely even had any real conversations, just small talk at events before he left Steele Industries, and very few other occasions after that.

“Will you take me for one last ride?”

I don’t want him to sell the bike – it’s part of who he is, and who he is, is pretty great. So if I can get him out on it again, with me, maybe I can convince him that it still has its place is his life – used sensibly of course.

“You want to go for a ride?” he asks, already smirking.

“Hey! I ride,” I reply, trying my best to sound sassy and convincing.

He laughs. “I bet you’ve never ridden on a bike in your life.”

“Well, you’d be wrong.” I resist the urge to poke my tongue out at him. “I went on a bike when I was ten years old one time at a carnival.”

That only makes him laugh harder. “That doesn’t count, Darce.”

“Well then maybe you better take me out so I can tick it off my bucket list.” I smack at his hand playfully. He’s full-on laughing at me now.

“Well, you’ve given me no choice.” He makes a show of wiping amused tears from his eyes. “Where do you want to go?”

“The beach,” I reply without even having to think twice. “Take me to the beach please.”

“The beach it is, princess.”

I honestly think I could have said I wanted to go to the moon, and he would have promised to make it happen just as easily.

He picks up his menu again, and this time I don’t disrupt him from finally being able to choose what he wants to eat. I just watch. I memorise all the little faces he makes, the rise of his left eyebrow as he reads. The way his Adam’s apple bobs as he sips his drink. The way he cracks his neck every so often, how he turns the silver ring through his lip... all the little things that make him, him.

I’m starting to fall for this man, I realise.

I can’t even believe it’s happening, after everything I’ve been through, I honestly never thought I’d feel anything close to love again, and certainly not this soon, but I have feelings for Ryan. Real, genuine feelings, and more than that, I can’t picture my future without him anymore.

I can see our baby crawling through hallways and pulling things off shelves, and when I imagine that, I imagine it in his house. His hallways. His shelves. The three of us together.

“What are you going to get?” he asks me, breaking me from the best daydream I’ve ever had.

I shrug my shoulders and feel my cheeks blush. I’ve had the menu in front of me for several minutes now, but the only thing I can think about tasting, is him.

* * *

I glanceat my reflection in the full-length mirror. These tight, black jeans aren’t going to fit me for much longer, so I’ll be damned if I don’t get an appropriate amount of wear out of them before that happens. They’re the only pair I’ve got that can make my ass look half decent and, for all I know, they’ll never fit again.

I grab my leather jacket off the bed and leave the room.

I might never have been for a real ride on the back of a motorbike, but I’m pretty sure I look the part at least.

Maybe if I try to look and act like a badass, Ryan might be less likely to treat me like I’m made of glass. Maybe he’ll handle me the way he did that first night we were together.

A flood of warmth blooms in my belly just thinking about it. But that’s all I’ve done – think about it.

All thinking and absolutely no action.

Our dinner on Tuesday was perfect. Hands down the best date I’ve ever been on in my life. Ryan was sweet, charming, funny, and he looked like a god. The only thing missing was a real kiss. He hasn’t kissed me again since that day in the kitchen. Sure, he walked me to my bedroom door and gave me a sweet peck on the lips, but I want more. I’m craving more.

My body, my mind, my heart... it all wants more.

“Fucking hell.” I hear his choked voice behind me, and I spin around to find him stalled in the doorway.

Still channelling my inner badass, I do nothing but raise a brow at him in question.

“Those things should come with a warning label.” He’s staring at my ass.

His eyes sweep me up and down again.

“You like?” I ask as I slip on my jacket and strut towards him.

I watch as he swallows deeply, his head bobbing up and down with a nod. This must be what it feels like to be him on a daily basis – to wield your sexuality like a superpower. He makes me turn into a ball of mush and hormones more often than I’d care to admit, but it seems like now it’s my turn to hold the reigns.

“You look incredible.” He growls as I pass by him, my shoulder brushing his arm intentionally.

I give my hips a little more sway than usual on my way to the front door. “You coming?”

I hear him groan.

I like this. This is fun. I haven’t felt the power of having a man eating out of the palm of my hand in a long time. Since before Jacob. I changed when I was with him, and it’s only been recently that I’ve realised just how much. I used to be playful, fun, confident... whereas with Jacob, I became... compliant.

The scary part is that I’m not even sure how I allowed that to happen. I guess I was infatuated with him – more specifically, the idea of him. I wanted to please him.

I pause outside, the sight of the huge, shiny bike parked in the drive making me rethink this whole idea. It’s massive. I can’t imagine even being able to get on that thing without assistance.

“Where’s all that sassy confidence gone now, princess?”

His warm breath at my ear startles me. I hadn’t heard him come up behind me.

“That’s a big bike.”

He chuckles.

“I’ll look after you, just slide your arms around me like this...” He slips his arms around my middle, and my stomach flutters with butterflies. “And hold on tight.” His mouth is at my ear again, sending shivers racing up and down my spine.

I wonder if it’ll ever stop being like this, or if his touch will always be able to excite me this way – set my body on fire and make my head spin.

“The beach is waiting, Darce.”

It’s only then that I realise he’s circled around to the front of me and I’m standing here, eyes shut like an idiot.

My lids fly open, my cheeks heating.

He chuckles again, a smirk settling on his lips. So much for the idea of him eating out of the palm of my hand. Hell, at this point, I’d eat off the floor for this man. It’s a real new low for me.

He doesn’t say another word, just takes my hand and leads me to his bike. I stand still as he fits a helmet on my head and adjusts the strap.

He puts on his own and swings his leg over the leather seat, before settling there like it was made just for him.

Holy hell.

There is no way he’s selling this thing. If nothing else, he can just get it out of the garage and sit on it every now and then while I watch.

“On you get, princess.”

With a little wariness and a lot of help, I manage to get my leg over the bike and my body wedged in behind his.

“Hold on.” I can hear him chuckle as I immediately wrap my arms around him and cling on like I’m holding on for dear life. Which I basically am at this point.

He flips down the visor on his helmet, and the bike roars to life beneath us. If I thought it was intimidating before it’s nothing compared to now. This thing is scary as hell. It’s vibrating like crazy, and the engine is so loud I can barely hear myself think – which is probably for the best. If I could think straight right now I would probably come to my senses and get off. This probably isn’t a sensible activity for a pregnant woman.

I open my mouth to say something – who knows what, but my words get taken away with the wind as he pulls out of the driveway and onto the street.

I know we’re only going slow, but I cling onto him even tighter and bury my face into the back of his jacket, it’s warm and soft and smells like him. It makes me feel safe – even on this death trap.

I feel the hum of his laughter against my cheek. The bastard is laughing at me. I don’t really blame him; I started so confident and full of myself and now I probably look like a baby koala clinging onto its mother’s back.

I don’t look up, but I feel when we hit the open road. The bike speeds up and the blur passing by out the corner of my eye goes by even faster than before. I know he’s not going that fast – he’s being cautious because I’m on the back, but I’ve still never felt so free. It’s exhilarating. I feel like we’re flying.

All too soon, we slow down, and I feel the difference in the ground beneath us. We’re on a gravelly track now, and I can smell sea salt in the air.

I pry my face off his back, my arms still tightly wrapped around his middle, and tip my head back to see the sun through the visor on my helmet.

He pulls to a stop, kills the engine, and pulls off his helmet, shaking out his hair and running his hands through his short beard.

God, he’s so sexy I can barely stand it. I’m aching for him to touch me, to kiss me... to feel his skin against mine again. Twenty minutes with my thighs wrapped around him has done nothing to dull the desire coursing through me.

He runs his hands over mine, and I feel goosebumps pebble over my skin, under my jacket.

I reluctantly loosen my hold on him, and he climbs off the bike, looking every inch the god he is, as he does it.

I don’t understand how I’ve never looked at him like this before now... how I didn’t see that the uncut version was so much better than the preppy one.

He reaches forward, unclips my helmet and gently slides it off my head.

I don’t say a word, I can’t stop staring at him. I probably look like a hot mess, but I don’t care.

“Are you alright?” He holds a hand out for me, the other supporting my elbow as I climb off the massive machine.

I nod.

“You sure?” He looks at me in concern, probably waiting for me to puke.

I’m so much more than alright, I’m alive, I’m on fire – burning for him.

I nod again. “But if you don’t kiss me soon, I think I might spontaneously combust.”

“What?” I’ve clearly shocked him with my train of thought.

“I didn’t stutter, kiss me already. I’m dying over here.”

He chuckles and rakes a hand through his wavy hair – an action so sexy it should be illegal. “I was trying to take it slow.”

“Didn’t feel like taking it slow in the kitchen the other day.”

He groans at the memory. “Exactly, Darce, I rushed it. I don’t want to miss all the steps in between, just because we’ve taken a giant leap right to the end result. I feel like now I need to go back and fill in the gaps. Dating, holding hands, kissing. I just don’t want you to miss out on any of it, princess.”

Be still my beating heart.

“I’m not missing a single thing. I’ve got everything I want right here.” I tug him towards me and wrap my arms around his middle. He pulls me closer, his strong arms enveloping me.

“You’re sure?” he asks as he runs the tip of his nose up the length of mine.

“I don’t care about social conventions, or the way things are meant to go – we’ve got our own thing. I like what we have happening here.”

“Yeah?” he questions, teasing me by leaning in closer so our lips are nearly touching.

“Yeah,” I whisper. “I’d like it a lot more if you’d ki–”

I don’t even get to finish my sentence before his lips are on mine. His tongue slips into my mouth at the same time that he lifts me, my legs wrapping around his. He steps forward and rests my ass on the seat of the bike.

It’s quite possibly the hottest thing I’ve ever done – making out on a motorbike on a public beach – it only seems fitting that I’m doing it with the hottest man I’ve ever met.