Thrill of Love Read online

  “Of course I remember your middle name. I remember every goddamn word you’ve ever said to me. But more importantly, what did you expect to hear? And how do you think I felt watching you check out Trixie’s brothers?”

  “I thought…” Her gaze dropped to his chest, and she shook her head. “I don’t know, and I’m sorry about Trixie’s brothers. I was trying to make you jealous, but only because I was jealous, and I hate that feeling.”

  Christ. He’d made her jealous? That was as awesome as it was awful, and now he felt guilty. At a loss for words, he touched his forehead to hers, trying to get his arms around his soaring emotions. “Sweet one, making you jealous was not on my agenda.”

  “You had an agenda? That sounds—”

  “Like I used the wrong word.” He brushed his lips over her cheek. “Aiyla,” came out like a plea. His insides were ablaze, and his heart was beating so hard, it was like he was on his first date ever. The voice in his head told him to kiss her good and hard, so she would want more, but a quieter—smarter?—whisper held him back. They needed to get to know each other again, even if it killed him. He didn’t want to take a chance of fucking this up. “Tomorrow night, after the event. If you’re up for a quiet evening by the water—”

  “Yes,” flew from her lips.

  “Yes,” he repeated happily.

  “Yes. Definitely yes.”

  Chapter Three

  AIYLA SAT ON a chair, balancing the phone between her shoulder and ear early the next morning and trying to massage a bone-deep ache from her leg while she talked with her sister. She’d already taken down her tent and packed up her gear for the transportation crew to pick up. Her race number was pinned to her running shorts, and she’d written her number across her stomach in permanent marker, something she learned to do as a teenager, when she’d fallen during a race and ripped her bib.

  “Eighth is wonderful, Aiy. Heck, crossing the finish line is a feat in and of itself. I’m so proud of you.”

  “Thanks, sis. Did you guys start painting your living room yet?”

  Her sister still lived in their cozy three-bedroom childhood home, which their grandparents had left to their mother, in Rhododendron, Oregon, a town so small, if she sneezed on her way through, she’d miss it. Cherise and her husband, Caleb, could afford a larger home, but her sister wanted to stay in the home where their mother had lived. Their mother had worked as a housekeeper in Mount Hood. She hadn’t earned much money, even though it had seemed like she was always working. She had instilled in her daughters a strong sense of drive, and an even stronger sense of confidence. The combination had served them both well. While Cherise’s drive had led her to be the best wife and mother she could, Aiyla’s determination had taught her to never give up, no matter what the odds or how difficult the adventure. The confidence had helped them both hold their heads up high even when they’d worn secondhand clothes day in and day out.

  As Cherise told her about the painting she was doing and the garden she was planting, Aiyla downed Motrin and Tylenol, hoping to stave off the ache from her overuse injury. It was a career hazard, and lately her leg had been teaching her a lesson.

  She went back to massaging her leg, and spotted Ty heading her way, giving high-fives and looking like he’d walked off the cover of Men’s Health magazine. He wore nothing but a pair of compression shorts and a wide black headband to hold his hair away from his face. His eyes locked on her, filled with wicked intent. She tried to keep up the conversation with her sister, but his eyes taunted her, and his hard, tanned flesh stole the rest of her attention. Some people would say he could bounce a quarter off his abs. She imagined them moving above her, against her, as he gave her all the pleasures she knew he could.

  Holy mother of horniness. It had been way too long since she’d scratched that particular itch.

  She needed to look away, but as he closed the gap between them, she focused on his scruff, imagining what those sexy whiskers would feel like on her cheeks, her inner thighs…

  “Aiyla? Are you there?” Cherise asked.

  “Um, yeah. Sorry.” She tried again to focus on what Cherise was saying about her nephews, but Ty knelt before her and moved her hand away from where she was rubbing her sore leg. He ran his hands up either side of her leg, massaging gently. His hands were big and strong and a little rough, giving her more sexy ideas. A needy sound slipped from her lips.

  “What happened?” Cherise asked.

  Shit. “Nothing,” she said breathlessly, eyes on Ty. “Continue, please.”

  Ty’s eyes darkened as Cherise continued telling her story. He lifted Aiyla’s leg and pressed his lips to the area just above her ankle, blazing a trail of tender kisses up to her knee. Heat climbed to the juncture of her thighs, and her arm absently fell to her side.

  Ty chuckled and guided the phone back up to her ear, reminding her that she was supposed to be talking on it.

  “Um, sis? I have to go…get ready for the…” She lost her train of thought as Ty covered her leg with more kisses, working his way from shin to ankle, then up again. Her thoughts scattered as she set the phone aside and said, “Love you. Bye,” to the air.

  “Leg still giving you trouble?” He went up on his knees and placed his hands on either side of her, trapping her with his magnificent body.

  “I think the trouble has moved higher.”

  He leaned in, brushing his whiskers over her cheek, and said, “Here?” He pressed a kiss beside her ear and lowered his hand to her thigh, squeezing gently. “Or there?”

  Her heart was going to explode. The rest of the world faded away, until all that existed was Ty, the heat of his hand branding her leg, and the lust-filled look in his eyes.

  “Leg” fell from her lips.

  His eyes flamed, and he bent to kiss her thigh. Oh Lord. This was too much, too enticing. She’d have noodle legs for the race.

  The heck with the race.

  Couldn’t they just set up her tent again and climb in for the day?

  He pressed a kiss just above her knee, and she heard herself whimper. When he did it again, his hands skimming her outer thighs, she felt herself go damp and bolted from her seat, sending him sprawling backward. “Stop, stop, stop…”

  Ty fell on his ass, laughing.

  Aiyla paced, shaking her hands, as if that might cool her body down. Several people were watching them, but Ty met their curious gazes with a threatening one of his own, and they quickly turned away.

  “Geez, Ty. What was that?”

  “Can you blame me? You shouldn’t be allowed in public in that skimpy running bra and those painted-on shorts. All these guys are going to have to run with hard-ons. That will not be a pretty sight.” He reached a hand up with a pleading look in his eyes.

  “Oh, please.” She huffed out a breath and pulled him up to his feet.

  His arms came around her waist, and he grinned down at her, looking all too pleased with himself. “Leg feel better?”

  “My leg? How can I even think about my leg after that?” She banged her fists on his chest, laughing. “You are—”

  “Hot?” he offered.

  “No! Yes, but—”

  “Irresistible?”

  “Ohmygod. How had I forgotten this about you?” They both laughed as she tried to squirm out of his arms, but he held her captive. “You’re like an invasive plant—with octopus arms and incredible lips.”

  “My lips are pretty incredible.”

  Yes, they were, and she wanted them a little too badly at the moment. “I don’t remember your mouth all over my legs like that in Switzerland.”

  “And I lost you,” he said with a shockingly serious tone. “I’m not making that mistake again.”

  “You didn’t lose me because of that.” Her heart thumped harder. “We made a choice,” she reminded him.

  “You made a choice. I agreed because I couldn’t convince you to come with me.” His gaze softened, but his tone remained firm. “I have spent months looking for you eve
rywhere, while not being allowed to really search. I stuck to the parameters we agreed on. ‘No Internet searches, no tracking you down in any other way.’ I played by your rules, and thank God, fate stepped in. I’ve finally got you back in my arms again, Aiyla, and I’m not backing off this time.”

  “I’m not asking you to, but…” She paused as an announcement rang out about checking in for the start of the race. “We need to talk later. I have to wrap my leg before the race.”

  She tried to step away, and he held tight with a worried expression.

  “I saw you taking meds. Are you sure you’re okay to run?”

  The man didn’t miss a thing. Was he that attuned to everyone, or just her?

  “Yes!” she assured him. “It’s just overuse. I’m going to kick ass today and make my sponsors proud.” Aiyla had secured sponsorships and donations from the resorts she’d worked with in and around Colorado over the years to help raise money for the children’s charities. All she had to do was finish the race for the companies to donate the funds, but she was too competitive to be content with merely finishing.

  He tugged her against him and cradled her face in his hands, breathing hard. Her entire body reached for him, but they needed to talk. She needed answers about his personal life. She bit her lower lip to keep from going up on her toes and taking the kiss she was dying for.

  His fingers pressed into her skin, restraint written in the tightness of his jaw. “Just be careful out there, baby cakes. We’ve got a hot date tonight.”

  MUCH LATER, AIYLA ran at a strong pace, still trying to push thoughts of Ty, his incredible mouth, and his unconfirmed reputation to the back of her mind and focus on the crisp air as her lungs expanded. The familiar rhythm of her feet pounding the earth and the chill of the air against her sweaty limbs gave her a sense of euphoria. She usually liked to run while listening to music, but not during a race. It was the stampede of the competition that kept her mind centered and her body pushing itself. She’d been competitive all her life. When Aiyla had learned to swim at five, she’d been determined to be a better swimmer than her six-years-older sister. That had been easy, considering Cherise didn’t have a competitive bone in her body. And when Cherise had given Aiyla the bicycle she had never had any interest in riding, Aiyla had spent an entire day learning to ride. By nightfall, with skinned knees and bruised elbows, she was driving her mother and sister crazy by riding with no hands.

  She smiled as she rounded a bend, remembering how she’d ridden that bike until her legs had grown too long and her knees had hit her chest. Her competitive drive had never wavered, and thanks to Ms. Farrington—Ms. F—her mother’s wealthiest employer, who had taken Aiyla under her wing when Aiyla was a young girl, she’d had proper skiing lessons and all the right gear for each sport she’d trained in through school—basketball, lacrosse, field hockey, track, cross-country, skiing. Ms. F had been in her seventies at the time, and an avid photographer. She’d never had children of her own, and she’d paid for Aiyla’s things in exchange for Aiyla accompanying her on her travels over school breaks and summers from the time Aiyla had turned thirteen. Ms. F had disliked traveling alone, and when they’d traveled, she’d given Aiyla all sorts of duties, from map navigation to ensuring she took her medications on schedule. Ms. F had nurtured Aiyla’s curiosity, uncovering a love of traveling, and more importantly, she had opened up the world of photography to her eager-to-learn protégé and companion. As Aiyla matured, she’d realized that the latter was probably Ms. F’s goal all along. She’d been so kind to their family, Aiyla thought Ms. F had seen her mother as the daughter she’d never had. And she’d taken on the role of fairy godmother to the girls.

  Aiyla slowed to grab a bottle of Gatorade at the nine-mile refueling station, bringing her thoughts back to the race and to the throbbing ache in her leg. She remembered Ty’s warm lips pressing against her skin, his big hands rubbing the pain away while his sensuality created a whole new type of ache. She used the promise of more to carry her forward.

  BLUE-AND-WHITE banners announcing the competition flapped in the wind at the far end of the shore, where Ty chugged his drink as the late-afternoon sun dipped toward the horizon. He’d taken second place and had crossed the finish line so long ago his shorts were nearly dry. Once the competitors were all accounted for, they’d truck them, and their bags, to the next camping area. He meandered through the crowd gathered along the shoreline, watching swimmers make their way across the lake. Some competitors plowed out of the water at full speed; others were barely able to walk. The race staff was there to help hydrate and tend to the injured.

  Ty talked with his friends, but his mind wasn’t on how everyone’s run had gone or who was partying with whom tonight. He had tunnel vision, scanning the head of every swimmer, waiting for Aiyla to cross that body of water.

  “Dude, take a load off your feet and chill for a while.” Speed patted him on the back, gazing out at the water. “That was an awesome race. Sorry you didn’t take first place.”

  Sure you are. “Can’t knock Theo for being a great athlete.”

  “We’re going to hang out on the rocks until the stragglers make it in.” Speed motioned toward a path that led to an outcropping of rocks where others were already gathering. “You coming?”

  “Maybe later. I’m going to wait for Aiyla to finish.” A few more racers trudged from the water.

  Speed crossed his arms, running an assessing eye over Ty. “She’s really gotten to you.”

  “More than you can imagine,” Ty said with an unintended edge to his voice as more swimmers approached the shore.

  “All righty, then. We’ll catch up with you later.”

  Athletes trickled in over the next hour, and Ty began to worry. He spotted Trixie dragging herself from the water. She was panting and holding her side. He ran over and put an arm around her, bearing her weight.

  “You okay, Trix? What do you need?”

  She gave him a deadpan look. “A drink, a man who’s as good in bed as he is at riding horses, and about eighteen hours of sleep.”

  Ty laughed. “How about a drink, then? Did you pass Aiyla? I expected her to finish ages ago, and I’m getting worried.”

  “She’s not back?” Her brow furrowed. “She was way ahead of me. I don’t remember passing her.”

  “Shit.” He helped her over to a chair. “I’m going to get one of the race staff to help you out. Is that okay? I want to see if Aiyla’s at one of the checkpoints.”

  “Of course. Go.”

  Ty hollered to one of the staff, and when they came to Trixie’s side, he went directly to the race coordinator, Joe Malpas, who was on his way into the food tent.

  “Hey, Ty. Great race today.”

  “Thanks. I need to check on someone, and see if she’s injured or resting at one of the checkpoints.”

  “Something wrong?” Joe pulled a walkie-talkie from his hip.

  “I hope not. Aiyla Bell had some trouble with her leg this morning. She’s a good runner, Joe, athletic as hell. She should have been in by now. Her race number is 164.” He’d seen her number written on her stomach, and it had been etched into his mind ever since.

  Joe held up one finger and spoke into the walkie-talkie. “Hey, Rick, can you do a checkpoint rundown of number 164, Aiyla Bell, and get back to me asap? Thanks.” He hooked the walkie-talkie to the waist of his shorts. “It shouldn’t take too long.”

  “Great.” Ty paced, scanning the water and hoping Aiyla would appear soon, uninjured. Every minute felt like an hour. Anything could have happened. A snake bite, injury, dehydration. A few minutes later, he was at his wit’s end. “I’m going after her. Can I use a boat?”

  “Of course, but give me one—”

  “Joe?” A voice came over his walkie-talkie.

  Ty’s heart leapt to his throat.

  “Yeah. I’m here,” Joe said into the radio.

  “Number 164, right?”

  “Yes,” Ty said, stepping closer, as if that migh
t help Aiyla.

  “We’ve got her passing the first thirteen checkpoints, which puts her about two miles from the lake, but that’s it.”

  “I’m out of here.” Ty ran toward the boats. “Joe, can you get volunteers—”

  Joe waved him off. “Already on it!”

  Ty sped across the water as fast as the boat would carry him, trying to recall the terrain between the lake and checkpoint thirteen. When he hit the beach, he was met by a volunteer, who handed him a walkie-talkie and said Joe had instructed her to give it to him. Clutching it in his hand, he sprinted up the narrow, wooded trail, scanning his surroundings. He moved aside for runners, asking if they’d passed an injured woman along the way, and bolted up the hill and into a clearing. Runners were sparse, and as he covered the distance to the next wooded area, he spotted someone moving slowly up ahead. Adrenaline surged, and he sprinted faster. Aiyla’s beautiful face came into view. She was limping, favoring her left leg as she jogged at a turtle’s pace. A volunteer appeared behind her in a bright blue-and-white shirt.

  “Are you Aiyla Bell?” the female volunteer asked as Ty approached.

  “Yes,” Aiyla answered. Confusion riddled her brow, but she never missed a step and continued limp-jogging along the trail. “Ty? Why are you going the wrong way?”

  “I was worried.”

  “We got a call that you might be lost or injured,” the volunteer explained.

  Aiyla glared at Ty. “I’m not lost and I’m fine. Thank you, but I don’t need any help.”

  “You’re limping. You’re clearly not fine,” Ty pointed out. “Do you want to get a ride the rest of the way?” The look on her face told him he’d asked the wrong question.

  “No, I do not want a ride,” Aiyla insisted. “I’m finishing this race.”

  The volunteer smirked, like she’d seen this situation play out too many times to be overly concerned. “All right, then.”