Текст книги "Axle Alley Vipers Series"
Автор книги: Sherilee Gray
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Текущая страница: 10 (всего у книги 14 страниц)
Chapter Fifteen
Alex watched the Ford Mustang roll out of the parking lot and emptied her lungs in a rush. “Holy. Shit.”
Rusty planted her hands on her slim hips and grinned at her, green eyes bright with excitement. “Can you freaking believe that?”
Alex shook her head, still stunned. “Nope. Maybe we’re on a hidden camera show and some dude with a microphone’s gonna jump out laughing his ass off and screaming, ‘Suckers! We’re only messing with you!’”
“This is what we were hoping for, what we said all along would happen, but still…” Rusty brushed her auburn hair back from her face. “Poaching one of R.I.P. Classic’s customers? We get this one right…” She shook her head. “Shit, we’ll be jumping in the deep end with the big boys.”
Alex rubbed her suddenly sweaty palms on the sides of her shorts. “I think that’s what it means, right?”
Rusty’s spine straightened, determination transforming her entire face, making her even more stunning, if that was possible. “That’s exactly what it means. We screw this up, we might not get another chance. We have to kill it.”
Alex bit her bit. “Right. No pressure then.”
Rusty gave her a sharp nod. “Nope. None at all.”
“Okay. Mr. Cannon’s Charger should be ready for the painters day after tomorrow. Then you and me can concentrate on the Mustang, and Pipe can pull on a pair of coveralls and do the small jobs already booked in.”
“Sounds good.” Rusty looked down at her boots, and when she looked up her eyes were dancing, her grin barely contained. “We’ve so got this.”
“We’ve more than got this. We fucking own it,” Alex said, trying to keep a straight face.
“We’ll fucking own it and spank its ass for good measure.”
Alex crossed her arms and nodded. “We’ll spank it till it purrs, force-feed it rocket fuel, then wheel spin that bitch into R.I.P. Classic’s workshop, screaming, ‘This is how we do it at West Restoration, bitches!’”
They gave up trying to keep it together after that and doubled over in a fit of nervous, hysterical laughter. They were still giggling when Piper came back with lunch.
She stopped in front of them, hands on hips, looking annoyed. “What did I miss this time?”
Alex and Rusty just laughed harder.
“Someone better tell me what’s going on. I always miss the good stuff stuck in that goddamn office.”
Alex slung her arm around Piper’s shoulders. “Well, my friend, we’re gonna need you to dust off your coveralls. That quote you did for the Mustang…”
“No,” she whispered. “R.I.P. Classic’s job. We didn’t?”
“We did.”
Piper’s face lit up. Out of the three of them, she was the one with the best head for business, and lately had only been used occasionally in the workshop. They planned to change that when the place got busier. They’d hire a part-timer for the office and have Piper back out with them full-time, but they weren’t there yet.
Rusty quickly filled Piper in.
“So I’m back in the workshop?” Pipe was beaming now.
“Yep.”
“About damn time.” She slid her arm around Alex’s waist and gave her a squeeze. “I was starting to worry if I didn’t get some grease on my hands again soon, I’d morph into Deacon.”
Rusty tugged on her sister’s blond ponytail. “God, I hope not. One suited control freak in the family is enough, thank you very much. Besides, having to shave every day would seriously put the brakes on your love life.”
At the mention of Deacon, a rush of guilt and longing moved through Alex at the speed of light. She hated keeping secrets from her friends, but what choice did she have? They wouldn’t understand—how could they? And if she was honest with herself, she knew this was the only way to work Deke out of her system. Their night together six months ago hadn’t let her go, no matter how hard she’d tried to forget it, forget him. At least this way, they both got what they wanted.
Piper snorted as they headed to the office. “What love life?”
They took their seats around Piper’s desk while she handed out sandwiches. Rusty slumped back in her chair. “Yeah, the only one getting laid around here is Alex.” She waggled her eyebrows and took a massive bite of her ham and cheese on rye. “How is Jarrod?”
Piper slapped her sister’s knee. “Gross. No wonder you’re not getting laid with table manners like that. Don’t talk with your damn mouth full.”
Ah, crap. “Yeah, fine.”
“Fine?” Piper shook her head. “Oh, no, you don’t. We want details. This is the first serious boyfriend you’ve had. So spill. And don’t skimp on the details. I have to live vicariously through you.” She scowled at her sister.
Piper had a record for picking total losers, or assholes who decided they liked her big sister a whole lot more. So Deke and Rusty took it upon themselves to terrify the crap out of any man who showed an interest in their baby sister, testing them. They had to prove their worth if they wanted to date her. Poor, sweet-natured Piper didn’t stand a chance.
They were both staring at her, waiting for her to spill her guts. Jesus. She had to give them something. “It’s just casual, you know? Just sex.”
“Mmm-hmm.” Rusty was wearing her I-see-all expression, which meant she was in serious trouble. “How good is the sex, then? Must be pretty spectacular to hook up as much as you and the suit have this last week. You’re hardly home.”
She took a bite of her sandwich and chewed slowly, stalling. “I guess.”
Rusty grinned. “Well, is the dude hung or what?”
Alex was in the middle of drinking her soda and sucked her mouthful down the wrong way. Piper jumped up and pounded on her back. Alex scowled at Rusty, who was now giggling her ass off.
Her friend shrugged. “What? Piper wants to know as well.”
“She does not.” Giving her friends intimate details of their brother’s anatomy did not sit well with her. Not at all. They’d be scarred for life if they ever found out.
“Well, yeah, I kinda do,” Piper said as she took her seat again.
Alex stood and stomped to the door. “Enough talk about my sex life. Go get one of your own.” She pulled the door open. “And if you ask me how hung he is one more time, I’ll stick dead rats in both your beds.”
There. Ha! She spun around and slammed on the breaks, mouth dropping open. A customer stood there, eyes round as saucers. “Shit. Um…I mean…what I meant to say was…” She took a steadying breath. “Your car’s ready, Mr. Porter. Please follow me.”
Her friends’ barely restrained laughter followed her as she went to grab the guy’s keys.
The rest of the afternoon was thankfully busy and blessedly uneventful, so Alex wasn’t forced to endure any further questions. This was getting complicated already, and they hadn’t even reached the two-week mark.
And it wasn’t only Piper and Rusty asking questions that had her second-guessing what she was doing. That confrontation with Emily and Tammy. Alex cringed inwardly, remembered humiliation heating her cheeks. They thought she was nothing but a gold-digging slut, and why not? She and Deacon were worlds apart now. They knew as well as she did that a man like Deacon would never want anything but a fling with someone like her.
It had shaken her. The way they saw her, the way everyone would see her when she and Deke were together. She would never fit into his world, and she refused to change for any man. Even Deacon. Huffing out a breath, she shook her head. The point was moot anyway. That wasn’t what they were about.
And why did she care what a couple of stuck-up Barbies thought of her, anyway?
She dropped her wrench into the toolbox, wiped her hands off on a rag, and stuffed it in her back pocket. Then, closing the hood of the car she was working on, she walked around, reached through the driver’s side window, and twisted the key in the ignition, turning the engine over.
The car roared to life. At least one thing was going right.
She threw a cover over the driver’s seat to protect the upholstery and climbed in. The deep growl of the 1967 Plymouth ’Cuda’s V8 rumbled through the seat, right through her. Nothing beat it. As long as she had Rusty and Piper, the garage, she could handle anything. Even losing Deacon when their three months were up.
She had to believe that.
Putting the car in first, she rolled out of the garage and onto the street to take it for a test run. Window down, the wind tugged at her ponytail, the sun warming her skin. Yeah, this was all she needed.
Then Emily’s nasty face entered her head again.
Shit. She needed to stop second-guessing herself. But dammit, why did Deacon put up with his ex interfering in his life anyway? He and Emily were divorced. He promised there was nothing going on between them. So what was it? It was like Emily had some kind of hold over him. When she’d seen the scratches on Deke’s chest, she’d felt sick to her stomach, and yeah, she’d overreacted. But in that moment, the past had reared up and smacked her upside the head. Emily was a bitch, but she was also poised, beautiful, classy—and the woman Deacon had chosen over her. The woman he’d chosen to marry. The woman he still had a relationship with. Seeing them together, she’d felt like she had back then, when he’d left her behind to be with Emily. Not good enough.
Never good enough.
But in the end, she had no choice but to believe him. Why would he lie?
Still, she couldn’t get her head around it. If it was truly over between them, then why let her insinuate herself in his life like she seemed to? Why not tell her to piss off and mind her own damn business? She hadn’t missed the way he held back around his ex-wife, treated her with kid gloves. It didn’t make any sense unless…
She shook her head and turned up the stereo to flush out the thoughts bombarding her. She refused to waste another minute thinking about that woman.
When she drove back twenty minutes later, she got a raised eyebrow from Rusty as she pulled to a stop in the workshop. “You get lost?”
“Engine trouble,” she said, lying through her teeth.
She’d needed longer than a spin around the block to clear her head. Deke would be back tonight, and she needed to get her shit together before she saw him again. She’d missed him more than she should. After only one night, a restless, lonely feeling had taken up residence in her chest. And when he’d called to say things were taking longer than he’d anticipated and he would be away another night, her disappointment had been acute.
Those pale green eyes narrowed. “You got it sorted now?”
“I hope so.” Pulling the keys from the ignition to lock in the safe for the night, she climbed out.
Rusty stopped her before she’d taken two steps. “You’d tell me if something was bothering you, right?”
Alex swallowed hard, mouth suddenly dry. “Yeah, Rust.” Jesus, she hated this. “You know I would.” Rusty gave her a small nod, then they both got busy cleaning up for the night.
As guilty as she felt for lying to her best friends, and as much as she tried to fight it, she was helpless against the rush of excitement that moved through her when she realized in a few hours Deacon would be knocking on her front door.
She was so screwed.
Chapter Sixteen
It was late when Deacon pulled in behind West Restoration. His meeting had run late. Usually he would have just stayed out of town another night, but it turned out, two days away from Alex was more than he could handle.
He’d called, told her he wouldn’t make dinner, but she’d promised to wait up for him. The breathlessness to her voice when he spoke to her, that husky edge of hers, had near done him in. That alone had driven him to get in his car, to drive straight over here, despite the hour. He needed her. And he sure as hell wouldn’t leave her wanting.
Going away, especially after what happened with Emily, had not been ideal. He’d wanted nothing more than to take Alex home and show her how much he cared, convince her to trust him, to forget their snide comments. Hell, he’d needed it for himself—the doubt on her face, the hurt she’d tried to hide had nearly killed him.
Climbing out of his car, he walked around the side of the workshop, where he’d hidden his car, and looked over to his sisters’ cottage. The place was dark—both had turned in for the night. He glanced up and saw pale yellow light illuminated the front windows of Alex’s apartment. Thank God.
Being Alex’s landlord meant he had a key to her place, and he’d told her to lock up, that he’d let himself in. He took the external stairs to her front door and used his key.
“Alex?” He shut the door behind him and moved into the kitchen. No sign of her.
But when he moved into the small adjoining living room, he saw her. On her side, hand tucked under her chin, asleep on the couch. Jesus, he’d missed her more than he thought possible. The more time they spent together, the more of herself she revealed, the deeper his already intense feelings became.
She was wearing nothing but a baggy Guns N’ Roses tank top that skimmed the tops of her thighs and looked unbelievably sexy. Her smooth, bare legs were stretched out, toenails painted blue, and right then, he thought the cute silver toe ring she wore might be the hottest thing he’d ever seen. The woman was temptation and innocence all at the same time.
She also looked utterly wiped out.
As badly as he wanted her, he didn’t have the heart to wake her. He knew firsthand what a restless sleeper she could be. What those dreams did to her, how they shook her. She looked so peaceful. Cursing under his breath, he thrust his fingers through his hair. He could wait till tomorrow, right? One more night wouldn’t kill him.
Fuck.
Her scent, unique to Alex, spicy and exotic, filled the small apartment and hit him in the gut. The roar of need increased along with the swirl of emotion only Alex had managed to evoke in him. He needed to leave before he changed his mind and acted like the selfish bastard she already thought he was.
Walking to the kitchen as quietly as he could, he grabbed a pen and jotted down a note so she knew he hadn’t stood her up, then took the blanket off the back of the couch and placed it over her. He took one last long look at his sleeping beauty and let himself out.
Every step away from her felt heavy, wrong on every level, but he knew how hard they’d all been working. West Restoration had begun to make a name for itself, and he would never stand in the way of their success, despite what he’d told Alex.
When he reached the bottom step, his gaze moved to the workshop’s side door, and that old familiar pain lanced through his chest.
God, the way he’d felt going to his father that day, the pain that had sliced across his old man’s face when he’d told him what he’d seen. Deacon had thought he was doing the right thing. He’d been angry and hurt, and still in shock, after finding his mother with another man. Jacob West had been heartbroken, humiliated. His own son discovering what he hadn’t seen himself was too much for his pride to recover from.
His parents separated after that, and he and his father had begun to drift apart. Maybe his mother would have left on her own, eventually, maybe she wouldn’t. He’d opened his mouth, and because of that, his dad had lost the woman he loved and his sisters had grown up without their mother. He’d blamed himself. As he’d gotten older, his relationship with his father had only gone from bad to worse.
But when he dropped the bomb that he was going to business school instead of working at the garage and one day taking it over—things had completely fallen apart. They’d never recovered from it. Never made their peace, and now it was too late.
Before he realized what he was doing, he had the keys for Alex’s apartment in his hand. Spare keys for the garage and the cottage were on the key ring as well, and he unlocked the door. The place was pitch-black, but he knew every square foot; it was as familiar to him as the back of his own hand. He went straight to the security system flashing beside the door and disengaged the alarm, then, shutting the door behind him, flicked on the overhead lights.
This place. The smell. The memories. He’d had some of the best times of his life in this workshop. He’d also suffered some of the worst. The fight with his father that he’d been too damn stubborn to forget. He’d held onto every angry word and let it fuel him, push him to succeed, to show his father how wrong he was, that he could make something of himself.
So much wasted time.
Shoving the keys in his pocket, he moved across the concrete floor to the back of the room. There in the far corner, covered in canvas to keep off the dust, was his father’s 1965 Pontiac GTO. Jacob had left it to him in his will, along with this building. He wasn’t stupid enough to miss the significance. It was an apology. His father’s way of saying, “I’m sorry.” He’d left in Deacon’s hands the care and protection of those things most precious to him. His beloved car and, more importantly, the welfare of his daughters and their maddening best friend.
It was too late to say he was sorry, but he’d make sure his sisters—and Alex—were taken care of.
The old bastard always did get the last word.
Gripping the heavy canvas, he dragged it back, revealing the old girl in all her glory. The car was exquisite. Jacob had done it all himself, every inch painstakingly restored. Giving this to Deacon was as good as an I love you, son. I’m proud of you. Two things he’d been desperate to hear for such a long time. They’d let their stupid pride keep them apart, and he was still struggling with the guilt six months later. Which was why the car was still here and not in the parking garage under his apartment.
Running his hand over the sleek cherry-red paint, he smiled as memories flooded him. Him and his sisters, Alex. All the kids piled in the thing, waiting to go for a spin. Jacob telling them to wash their hands. “No food or drink in my baby,” he always barked before they headed out.
The sound of someone coming down the stairs washed away the memory, and he turned in time to see Alex walking through the door.
She smiled when she saw him—it was hesitant, almost shy, and the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. “I found your note.” She held it up and waved it around.
“So I see. How did you know I was still here?”
“I saw your car out my bedroom window.” She crossed her arms. “Why didn’t you wake me?”
He swallowed past the lump in his throat and fought to hold his ground, not to grab her then and there and show her just how much he’d missed her. “You looked so peaceful. I didn’t have the heart.” She moved out from behind the car that had been concealing the lower half of her body, and he nearly swallowed his tongue. “You, ah…you got the boots then?”
She nodded. “Yup. I woke up to find them on my doorstep the morning after you left. Poor Martin must have gotten up at the crack of dawn to get them to me unnoticed.”
She kept moving toward him. That Guns N’ Roses tank, now that she was standing, was still barely long enough to cover her panties. And those boots, the ones he’d seen her drooling over, the ones he’d wanted to see her in and nothing else, looked amazing, like he knew they would. His cock was hard as iron, straining against the zipper of his trousers. “Do you like them?”
She shook her head. “Nope.” Then a wicked grin tilted up one side of those lush lips. “I love them.”
The woman was capable of running circles around him, fucking owned him and didn’t even realize it. “Stop,” he rasped. “Not another step.” Her brows shot up, but she did what he asked. He spun his finger in a circle, silently asking her to turn around for him, and to his delight she complied without question. “Stunning.”
Her back was to him, but he didn’t miss her soft moan. His little viper was as hot for him as he was for her. Unable to keep his hands off her another minute, he moved up behind her and rested his hands on the gentle flare of her hips. “I’ve been fantasizing about you in those boots ever since you picked them up.”
“You have?”
She sounded breathless, needy, and it cranked up his own need. He was too far gone, had missed her too much to wait. Gripping the hem of her tank, he lifted it over her head and tossed it on the roof of the car. She sucked in a startled breath. “Oh, yes.” He coasted his fingers over bare skin, across her ribs, and up to her firm breasts. A perfect handful. He massaged the soft mounds, pinching her nipples, tugging gently on her sensitive flesh.
“Deke…please,” she whispered.
He kissed the side of her neck and sucked the smooth skin, marking her. “I’m sorry, baby. Sorry I couldn’t get back to you like I promised.” He trailed a hand down over her taut stomach, the muscles quivering under his palm, and dipped his fingers beneath the elastic of her deep blue lace panties, groaning when he felt slick, wet heat. “You need it, don’t you, Alex?”
She shifted her hips, trying to get him to move his fingers. “Yes.”
“You’ve missed my cock, my mouth, the whole time I was gone, haven’t you?” He slid his finger through her folds and up to circle her clit.
Her head dropped back against his chest, and she whimpered. “Yes.”
God, she was amazing, so responsive to his touch, holding back nothing. “Did you touch yourself while I was gone, baby?”
“Yes,” she gasped.
Jesus. He pressed his cock into the soft curve of her ass to relieve the throbbing pressure, and when he spoke again his voice was so deep with raw lust, he barely recognized it. “Did you think of me when you came? When your fingers pushed inside that tight, sweet body, was it my fingers you were imagining?”
“Yes.”
He groaned and pulled his hand free of her underwear so he could spin her around. She made a small sound of protest before he slammed his mouth down on hers, desperate to taste her. He thrust his tongue inside the wet heat of her mouth, and she returned his kiss wildly. She tasted of peppermint and that unique taste that was all Alex, a taste that was branded into his senses, a taste he had never forgotten, not since their first kiss all those years ago.
Gripping her waist, he lifted her off the ground, and she wrapped her legs around his hips instantly. He couldn’t wait to have her and sat her on the hood of the Pontiac. Her hair was wild around her face and shoulders, eyes glazed and heavy with lust as he pushed his fingers down the sides of her underwear. “Lift up.” She leaned back on her hands and lifted her ass so he could slide her panties down her legs, and he flung them on the roof of the car with her tank top.
Her breathing had increased, warm puffs bursting past her kiss-swollen lips. “This is what I’ve been fantasizing about.” He reached down and pressed his palm against the aching ridge of his erection. “This is the image that has kept me hard since I saw you looking at these boots.”
She squeezed her thighs together and whimpered.
“Are you aching, Alex?”
“Yes.”
“Show me what you did to yourself while I was away, and I’ll give you a reward.” He was torturing himself, but fuck it. Just knowing that she’d gotten herself off thinking of him was making him crazy. Her eyes flared, and she bit her lip. “Do it. Touch yourself. Show me.”
She kept those amazing eyes on him as she slid a hand down over her belly and between her spread thighs. He swallowed hard as she spread herself with delicate fingers and started slicking her arousal up and back.
“Jesus Christ,” he hissed, closer to losing it than he had been in his entire life. “That’s it, sweetheart. Make yourself come. Get yourself off while I watch.”
She made a needy little whimper and pushed a finger inside her tight opening, gasping, undulating her hips. He knew her eyes were locked on him, he could feel it, but he couldn’t tear his gaze away from what she was doing between her thighs. Her fingers pumped in and out, rapidly, glistening with her wetness. Then she pulled out, slid them to her clit, and started circling. Her whimpers got louder, more desperate, then she was coming, crying out, body shaking.
“Fucking stunning.” He’d never been closer to disgracing himself in his entire life. She’d collapsed back, breathing heavily. He took her hand lying limp on her thigh and lifted it to his mouth, sucking her fingers clean, and his cock pulsed harder. “You need more?”
“Yes,” she whispered.
“Do you want me to make it all better?”
“Please. Please make it better.”
She was killing him. Alex never begged for anything, never showed vulnerability—she’d always seen it as a weakness, an opportunity for others to take advantage. But right now she wasn’t holding anything back from him. It was all there in her expressive dark eyes. Things she would never say out loud, things that had his heart pounding in his chest.
“Spread your legs wider, sweetheart. Show me how hot and wet you are.” She let her parted knees fall open, giving him what he asked for. He groaned, so desperate to slam inside her he was fucking shaking. He slid his fingers around her left ankle and hooked the heel of one boot behind the car’s big chrome grill, then the other. “I want to slide my tongue inside that tight little snatch so bad I can barely think straight, but you need my cock, don’t you, baby?”
She made a hot, hungry sound in the back of her throat. “Yes.”
She was completely exposed, open to him, at his mercy. “Do you have any idea how exquisite you look right now?” He ran his hands up her inner thighs, opening her farther. “This is another fantasy of mine, actually. Though this one’s been around a lot longer.” He massaged her inner thighs, not giving her what she wanted, what they both wanted, just yet.
Her breath hitched. “Tell me.”
Jesus. He’d spent more nights than he could remember before and after the first time he’d slept with Alex thinking of this. Nights when he was forced to rub off hard and fast, biting his pillow so no one would hear him groaning out her name.
“I spent a lot of time imagining you just like this, naked, at my mercy.” He moved his hand higher, cupping her. Shit, so hot. And gently massaged her slick flesh. She bucked her hips, gasping. “Fucking you hard on the hood of one of these old cars. But in my fantasy, we’re out in the country. The sun’s beating down, warming all that smooth skin. You’re calling my name, begging me to take you harder, and I do, I take you so hard you scream and come around my cock. Do you want that, Alex? You want me to fuck you hard?”
