Coal (Regulators MC 3)

Returning to the table, I’m nervous, thinking Coal may not like my surprise after all. Before I can think of a way to back out, though, the waitress comes out with two more following her and a whole pecan pie lit up with candles burning. Approaching our table, they begin to sing as Ice, Hammer, Coal, Des, and Morgan all look around in surprise.

They sit the pie in front of Coal who looks wide-eyed. I give his thigh a squeeze, and his eyes meet mine.

“Happy birthday,” I say barely above a whisper. “Today is your new day.”

He smiles. A real, genuine smile crosses his face before a laugh escapes.

“Pixie, what the fuck am I supposed to do with you?”

I shrug. “Make a wish.”

Coal laughs again, and I feel an invisible weight lift off my shoulders.

When the waitresses leave, Hammer is the first to comment. “You two have obviously learned the art of silent communication.”

“Ethan,” Des interrupts him.

“What? They shared a look, and suddenly, Coal knows she got him good and laughed. Coal never fuckin’ laughs. They obviously got something goin’ on.”

“Drop it,” Coal tells Hammer, and they share a look.

I don’t know how to read it. There isn’t anger or animosity, just a simple command that Hammer obeys.

As we leave, I anticipate the energy shifting and the calm between Coal and I to leave.

It doesn’t.

Coal walks me in my apartment where I expect him to leave, but instead, he seems to make himself comfortable.

He’s the only person to get on my couch and not complain about the uncompromising wooden frame and the simplistic style that is for function, not comfort.

Sitting beside him, I am at ease in my space. Even though there is so much we don’t know about each other, it feels like he belongs here.

“Today was fun, Pixie. Thanks for going with me.”

“I had fun, too,” I answer honestly.

“Don’t know the last time I spent out, relaxed and laughing,” Coal says, meeting my stare.

His honesty surprises and humbles me.

“I’m glad to be a part of anything that relaxes you and makes you happy.”

Coal’s dark eyes soften. “Pixie, it seems like when you’re around things just relax. Maybe it’s your aura.” He smiles at me. “Maybe it’s your gift.”

“My gift?”

“My mother is Sioux.” Coal explains. “I spent summers growing up going to the reservation. In Native American culture we are given a gift from the animals, the plants, it’s how you are named typically.”

I’m intrigued. “What normally soothes you, Coal?”

He laughs and it makes me smile.

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

I raise an eyebrow challenging him.

“Drums, thunder, really anything with a steady rhythm.”

The continual beat of my heart suddenly pounds in my ears. The pull between us is stronger than ever before. As the thumping gets louder and faster, I find my body coming alive.

Then I lick my lips and lean into him. Surprising even myself, I press my lips against his. With a slight opening, I slide my tongue in.

Lights flash behind my eyelids, and my entire body tingles as the energy moves through me.

Coal’s hands cup either side of my face as he takes control. He’s gentle in a way I didn’t imagine would come from a large man like him.

Reaching out, I run my hands up his neck and to the back of his head. The skin is smooth, soft, and I can’t help massaging him as we continue to tangle our tongues.

When I moan in pleasure, Coal abruptly pulls away and jumps up. He wipes his lips as if he’s committed a crime and looks at me with pain in his eyes.

“Pixie, I can’t.”

Those are the only words he speaks before rushing out the front door.

I listen as his motorcycle rumbles away while my lips still tingle from his kiss.

Just when I think we will untangle ourselves from each other, we are somehow in deeper than before.

Chapter Twelve

~Coal~

I ride around Miami for a couple of hours, trying to clear my head, but it doesn’t seem to work. There’s only one thought that I keep coming back to: tell her why. If I tell her about that night with Amber, maybe she will understand why I can’t give her anything more. I can’t give anyone a damn thing, other than cash. The lines get blurred.

There’s something about Pixie that makes me want to open up, and that is almost enough to paint a yellow streak down my back and send me running. Except, I don’t run from anything anymore.

After Amber, I refuse.

Turning my motorcycle around, I head back to Pixie’s place. It’s time she hears the reason I am the way I am.

My nerves are amped, and before I know it, I’m parking my bike in front of her building.

Steeling myself to do the right thing, I turn off the motor and amble toward her door. She opens it right after the first knock, almost as if she knew I would come back.