Wrong Move

20 - Better Than the First Time

Taylor

"And how are things between the two of you?" My uncle asked, casual except for the tightness of his shoulders. Aunty Coral smacked his shoulder and scowled at him.

"Taylor is a grown girl. If you didn't want her messing with bikers, you shouldn't be one yourself."

I felt my cheeks flooding steadily. The awkwardness of discussing my love life was something I wasn't used to. My heart squeezed also, because it felt so normal, like a conversation my parents might have had with me, if they were still here. I shoveled some salad into my mouth to avoid answering the question.

How were things between Wren and me?

Slow.

Glacial slow.

And I was slowly losing my mind about it.

But I certainly wasn't about to admit that to my aunt and uncle. I wanted a big, bad biker to take me to bed and he wouldn't do more than kiss me. Once he'd grazed a breast and leaped off the bed like he'd been electrocuted.

It had been three weeks since I returned to town. My aunt and uncle had offered me my old bedroom, and I'd taken it. The familiarity of living with them was jarring and comforting at the same time. Casey's door remained closed. It only amplified her absence in the house. Despite the photos of her being glaringly removed, her presence remained. My aunt and uncle had more lines than I remembered, but I think my moving home was helping them focus on something other than their daughter and the trail of pain she'd left. Sometimes I felt guilty, like I'd usurped her position, replacing Casey, but she had made her choice. She had to live with the consequences.

I suspected that the blocked number who called me periodically, hanging up after I answered, was Casey. I shook my head. The last thing I wanted to dredge up were memories of my foolish cousin.

"It's not serious," I said finally as they stared at me, not letting me get away without answering.

My Uncle snorted, exchanging a look with Aunty Coral.

"Hell, it isn't, or—" his face clouded, "does Wren know you're not serious?"

I squirmed in my seat, face on fire now. Awkward family lecture vibes were in force, and I wanted to flee from the table.

"It's complicated," I said, eating a giant mouthful and trying to wrack my brain for a subject change.

I found it laughable that my uncle was feeling so protective of Wren's feelings. He was the butt of endless teasing at the club, for how he had his nuts in a vice over a girl who wasn't officially his. I'd laid it out to Wren weeks ago, when I first got back. There was something between us that wouldn't extinguish. He'd told me he was going to burrow under my skin, but truthfully, he already did. When I was fifteen years old and he first aimed that lopsided smile in my direction, he'd been in my veins ever since. I had fought against that fact for such a long time, refusing to admit the hold he had on my heart. I'd decided to be brave, but he was holding back.

It used to make me feel pathetic, that I couldn't purge my feelings for Wren, after what he'd done to me. But since I'd been back, my perspective had changed. Wren had said openly and repeatedly that he wasn't going to give up on me and I could either try to replace him with someone else or explore what we had. Reality was that all the men I had been with, none had stirred the level of emotion in me that Wren did.

Did that mean I was all in?

No.

I knew I was holding back emotionally; it was difficult to break down walls that were made of steel. I'd done it to protect myself and I still found it hard to believe that Wren could be into me the way he claimed. So Wren was holding back physically. I knew he wanted words from me I wasn't ready to give. Like they'd be the key to making sex between us was actually enjoyable the second time around.