Текст книги "Crashed"

Автор книги: Sherilee Gray

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Текущая страница: 12 (всего у книги 14 страниц)

Suddenly his hands were on her ass, and she was up against the wall. He shoved her higher, so they were eye level, and that big hard body pressed into hers. His solid thighs were wedged between hers, forcing her to open for him, and he ground the hard ridge of his erection against her center. The delicious pressure had her crying out. Then he stepped back from the wall suddenly, taking her with him. Just long enough for one of those big hands to leave her butt and come down again on the same cheek with a loud smack.

Heat hit her face, anger and—dammit—lust firing her blood. She fought to get free, but he just pressed into her harder.

“You’re not going anywhere. You are not running away. You will listen to me.” She turned away, but he grabbed her chin, using his hips to hold her where he wanted her, and made her look at him. “I didn’t go to the dinner meeting…something else came up. Something that kept me from you.” He cursed under his breath. “I don’t give a damn about five-star restaurants, and if you call yourself a whore once more, just once, I’ll put you over my knee.”

“You wouldn’t dare.” She tried to shove him back, but he didn’t budge.

Heat flashed behind his eyes. “Try me.”

Her lower belly clenched at his words, remembering the way he’d spanked her over her kitchen table, and she barely resisted rubbing up against that scorching-hot flesh still pressed between her thighs. “So what? We’re still doing this?” She bit her lip, hated the strain in her voice, the need he had to have heard. Idiot.

He squeezed her ass. “I just need a couple days. That’s all. I have… There’s something I need to finalize, something that requires my entire focus. Believe me, no one will be happier than me when it’s over.”

She wanted to question him further, ask him about the shirt in his bathroom. Tell him what an asshole he’d been, that she didn’t deserve to be treated that way. But he chose that moment to bury his face against her throat and scrape his teeth against her skin, nipping then sucking away the sting, and the words got stuck in her throat.

“I’ve been going out of my mind, baby.”

He ground against her again, and she moaned, circling her hips, reaching for the release that was already so close just from having him pressed against her. God, she was pathetic, weak. She let her head fall back against the warm steel behind her in an attempt to ground herself, to regain some common sense. But her body didn’t give a flying fuck about common sense—it cried out to have him inside her again.

“Say you’ll wait, Alex. Say that you’ll give me a couple days.”

Right then, she couldn’t remember her own name, let alone the reasons this wasn’t a good idea. All her doubts were dissolving into a puddle at his feet. Then his mouth was on hers, and she was burning from the inside out. His tongue met hers, and she felt each sensual slide, each wild thrust between her quivering thighs. The world vanished around her. Her body didn’t want anything to do with logic, it wanted Deacon, his hands, his mouth, his cock inside her.

He pulled back, kissing her jaw, her neck, that spot below her ear. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. Her chest squeezed. Yeah, she was still pissed, hurt after what happened, the way he’d acted, but maybe… “For canceling our plans. God, I missed you.”

What? She froze. His words were like a bucket of ice water dumped on her head.

No “sorry for doubting you, for believing you could be sleeping with someone else behind my back.” No “sorry for letting you walk away and making you feel like the worthless whore that asshole had mistaken you for.” And no explanation for the time he suddenly needed or why there was a shirt in his bathroom covered in pink goddamn lipstick.

She shoved his shoulders, hard. “That’s what you’re sorry for? You can’t think of anything else? Nothing?”

“Alex…”

“Jesus, you really are nothing but a self-centered asshole, aren’t you?”

He’d stilled but kept his arms around her, not letting her push him away. “Talk to me, don’t fucking push me away, and don’t shut me out.”

Shut him out? He was the one keeping secrets and acting like a jerk.

This might be nothing but a business deal to him, but it wasn’t to her, not anymore. She’d tried to keep her emotions out of it, but she’d failed, miserably. There was no point denying it anymore. She wanted what he would never give her.

Deacon had been ashamed of her. So ashamed the woman he’d been seen out with over the last two weeks had been pegged as some high-class call girl that he’d canceled their dinner plans to avoid more embarrassment. He could give her all the excuses he wanted, but that was the real reason. To him, she would never be good enough. And that hurt. A lot.

The couple of days he needed were more than likely to cover his ass, in case the asshole Deacon had assaulted spilled his guts and all the nice people he’d introduced her to as his date thought they’d been breaking bread with Deacon’s whore.

The expression on his face when he’d let her walk out of his apartment was stuck in her head.

She’d given him a chance, an opening to admit he cared, and he hadn’t taken it. Because he didn’t feel that way about her. All he felt for her was lust. She was good enough to fuck, but only when it didn’t get in the way of business.

And she’d stupidly gone to him that morning, ready to spill her guts, to yak up all the feelings she’d kept locked in her heart for so long. She’d trusted him. Something she didn’t do lightly.

“Let me go.” He didn’t, he held on tighter.

“Talk to me.”

She shoved at his shoulders. “I said let me the fuck go.”

Every muscle in his body turned to stone beneath her hands. “Jesus. Alex…”

“We’re done.”

He flinched. “What?”

“I said we’re done. Now back the hell up.” She planted her hands on his shoulders and shoved again.

“You don’t mean that. We have a—”

“Don’t you dare say it.” She shoved again, hands shaking, stomach twisting.

He finally released her, taking a step back. And dammit, she missed him instantly. “Talk to me, Alex.”

She held his wild gaze, heart pounding. It suddenly hurt to even look at him. “If you try to force this, this messed-up arrangement, I will tell your sisters. You’ll lose them, Deacon, and you know it. As for the business, word about the place is spreading. We’ve had several big jobs come in this week alone, and we’re getting calls and doing quotes for more every day. So your excuse to sell this place, that we’re playing shop, has been shot to shit.”

“Alex,” he growled, fists clenching and unclenching at his sides. “Would you stop for a minute and let me explain? You don’t understand—”

“Despite what you think of me, I do understand. I understand perfectly.” He tried to grab her, but she wrenched away, taking several steps back. “Don’t touch me.”

He shoved his hands in his hair. “Sweetheart, don’t do—”

“Deke!” Piper’s voice cut him off as she walked around the corner. “I didn’t know you were stopping by.”

Deacon’s gaze didn’t falter; those blazing green eyes remained locked on her. Shoving her hands in her pockets, she moved around him, ignoring the way he growled her name under his breath, and forced a smile.

“Well, I need to get back to work. I’ll leave you two to catch up,” Alex murmured and made her escape.

She saw him drive away a short time later.

…

The next day seemed to creep by at a snail’s pace and wasn’t made any easier by the constant barrage of calls and texts from Deacon. She’d turned her phone off in the end. No way was she ready to talk to him. She had no interest in whatever bullshit he had to say.

She was ecstatic when she could finally climb the stairs to her apartment and, after a long, hot shower, change into her pj’s and veg on the couch. I will not cry. Not over him. Not again.

Flicking through the channels, she searched for a show that didn’t have anything to do with love or sex or relationships of any kind. In the end she chose a gory horror flick. “No chance of any lovey-dovey stuff on that.”

The door to her apartment crashed open just as she was settling in. Rusty, with Piper hot on her heels, stormed in, wearing matching pissed-off expressions. They know.

Rusty rounded the couch and slammed a newspaper on the coffee table. “Have you seen this shit?”

Alex followed her friend’s finger, stabbing at a collection of pictures on the society pages. She blinked down at them, hoping she was having some screwed-up hallucination. No.

But she wasn’t and there in black and white was Deacon—and Emily. Her stomach dropped to her feet.

The first couple photos were of the two of them walking into a restaurant, his hand resting on her lower back. The next showed them climbing into a cab together, and the last was the pair of them out in front of his building. But this had been taken in the morning. Emily was wearing the same dress she’d had on in the dinner shots. Deke’s hair was wet, slicked back like he’d just gotten out of the shower, and Emily was wrapped around him, head pressed to his chest. They’d spent the night together.

I’m going to throw up.

“That’s who I heard in the background when he phoned.” She hadn’t realized she’d said it out loud until Rusty grabbed her arm.

“When? How long has that bitch had her claws back in my brother?”

Alex shook her head, still stunned by the images in front of her. “I don’t know. I just heard a female voice…I have no idea how long it’s been going on.”

“Why’d he call?” Piper asked behind her. “Did he say anything about Emily?”

She shook her head. “No. He called to see if we could fit his car in for a service.” What else could she say? “We didn’t talk about anything else.”

Rusty screwed up the paper and fired it in the trash. “If he’s going to keep shit-tastic secrets like this, then the lazy prick can service his own damn car.”

The pair talked for a while longer, but Alex barely heard a word they said.

How could she have been so blind? The scratches, the lipstick on the shirt. The female voice on the other end of the phone when he’d canceled their plans. All the signs had been there. She just hadn’t wanted to believe them.

Did he still love Emily? Had he ever stopped? And why had he asked her to give him a couple days? Kissing her like he had when he was obviously getting back with his ex-wife—did he think he could keep her his dirty little secret? Have the best of both worlds?

Anger, hot and sharp, sliced through her, helping to dull the ache in her chest.

A hand landed on her shoulder. “Alex. What’s wrong?” Piper slid down beside her, concern on her face. “Why are you crying?”

Was she?

“Ah, Christ.” Rusty slumped down, taking her other side, and looked at her sister. “You were right. They’re sleeping together.”

“What?” Alex shook her head, breaking out in a cold sweat.

“Save it, girl.” Rusty slung her arm around Alex’s shoulders. “We’ve seen his car here. You two are as subtle as a pair of humping wildebeests.” Rusty gave her an encouraging squeeze. “Start talking.”

Piper patted her hand, but her expression was pure determination. “Now.”

Chapter Nineteen

Deacon was surprised and—he’d never thought he’d say this—pleased to see Steve when he’d entered the charity gala earlier that night. The sooner he got this mess with Emily sorted out, the sooner he could tell Alex everything. Until he told her the truth, all of it, they couldn’t move forward. She loved him. He had to believe that. He just hoped she’d give him a chance to explain—that she’d believe him when he did.

He didn’t waste time and took up the vacant space beside the man in question, who was currently propping up the bar and nursing what looked like a glass of whiskey. The main part of the evening was over. Deacon had played his part, schmoozed the main players and listened to the never-ending speeches. The cause was extremely important to him, and something he intended to contribute to for the foreseeable future, but after what had happened with Alex the day before, the way she’d looked at him, like he’d cut her heart out and ground it into the asphalt, this wasn’t where he wanted to be. He was anxious to get this over with, to go to her, to finally come clean.

He turned to Steve. “I wasn’t expecting to see you here tonight.”

The guy snorted. “I’ll bet.” He shook his head and swayed on his seat, quickly righting himself.

How was he supposed to have a reasonable discussion with the man when he was shitfaced, or close to it, anyway. “I’ve tried to call you several times, but for some reason you’ve been ignoring my calls.”

He snorted again. “We have nothing to discuss.”

Deacon tried not to grind his teeth. “Emily, for one.”

“Don’t mention that bitch’s name to me.”

“We need to—”

“She told me you’d moved her back in.”

The blood in his veins turned to ice. “What?”

“I can’t believe you took her back.”

Took her back? “I haven’t.”

“That’s not what she’s saying.”

“She convinced me she’d relapsed. That she might hurt herself.”

Steve snorted. “Looks like she’s played us both for a fool.”

When the hell would he learn? He’d lied to Alex, been forced to stay away from her. Forced to suffer Emily in his home the last couple days because she’d convinced him—and he’d stupidly believed her—that she had nowhere else to go. He’d sat with her for hours, doing his best to convince her to get more help. She’d played the victim so well, while she slept in his fucking spare room. And all the while, she’d been plotting. Some sick attempt to get him back.

Steve took a sip of his drink. “I asked her to marry me. Did you know that? She turned me down. Apparently, I don’t make enough money.” He slammed the glass on the bar. “So fucking cold.”

Deacon didn’t reply, too stunned, too damn angry at himself for letting her do this to him, again. Steve took his silence as an invitation to keep talking.

“I’m surprised she didn’t tell you during your cozy dinner date.” Steve must have read the confusion on his face. “You two were plastered all over the society pages.”

His first thought went to Alex, but he quickly brushed it aside. The only way she’d read the society pages was at gunpoint.

“She’s made fools of us, both of us, right from the start.”

Deacon turned to walk away. He needed to find Emily. He’d seen her when he’d walked in and had planned to avoid her all evening, but now he wanted to find her so he could wring her goddamn neck.

Steve grabbed his arm, stopping him. “Do you know why she slept with me that first time? Why you caught us? Because she wanted to make you jealous.” He waved his hand around. “So you’d realize you loved her.” He snickered. “Of course you ended things, and when her father found out that she’d lied to you about a pregnancy and screwed around with me, he cut her off.”

What? “She told you about the baby?”

“Oh, no. No, no, no. She wouldn’t risk scaring off her meal ticket. I heard her and Tammy talking. She was only with me until she could win you back, you see. Then you went and found someone else and blew Emily’s plan all to hell. She thought it was only a matter of time before you forgave her for her lies, and then she’d lure you back.”

She’d been manipulating him all this time. “The counseling sessions I’ve been paying for? The emotional breakdowns?”

“She never went to a session. The guy promised to keep his mouth shut if she…sorry, if you kept paying. The only thing wrong with Emily is that she’s a money-hungry, manipulative bitch.” He shook his head. “Nothing can fix that shit.”

He spotted Emily across the room and pushed off the bar, determined to confront her. But then he noticed several people had stopped in their tracks, staring at something near the entrance.

Deacon saw Jarrod Prescott standing near the main doors, and he watched as a grin spread across the other man’s face before he strode over to whoever was causing the commotion. Dread moved through him when he heard a very distinctive laugh. Rusty.

Then he saw them, his sisters and Alex, break through the crowd. All three were dressed like they were out clubbing—in other words, practically naked. Alex had on the boots he’d bought her and a skirt so short he knew if she turned around and leaned forward, he’d see ass cheek. He wanted to drag her out of there and give her the scene she’d come for, but she was doing a good job of it on her own.

Jarrod joined them, and the bastard slung his arm around Alex’s shoulders, grinned, and whispered something in her ear. She looked up at him, threw her head back, and laughed.

He lost it.

By the time he’d pushed through the growing crowd, Piper was sitting on the CEO of Tech Industries’s lap, and Rusty had pulled the president of the biggest finance company in Miami up to dance. The guy was close to eighty and looked like he might stroke out at any moment.

He stopped in front of Alex, close to stroking out himself, especially if Prescott didn’t take his goddamn hands off her. “You have it, you’ve got my attention.”

The woman completely ignored him, still chatting it up with Jarrod fucking Prescott. He didn’t care what others thought. He could never be anything but proud to be seen with Alex. It didn’t matter to him what she wore, he’d still be the luckiest man in the world. What pissed him off was the fact she thought this would embarrass him.

“Alex.”

Those dark eyes moved to him, locked on, daring him to blow his stack, to walk away, to prove her low opinion of him. She placed her hand on his chest, and he sucked in a breath just from her touch. “There you are, Daddy,” she said looking up at him from beneath lowered lashes, a smirk on her face as she dragged a finger slowly down his abs to his belt buckle.

Jesus. Some of these people might be ignorant enough to believe that’s what he was to her, a goddamn sugar daddy, but Alex—and his fucking sisters—should know him a hell of a lot better than that.

Jarrod chuckled, and Deacon shot him a dark look. The guy wisely removed his arm from around her shoulders.

Deacon grabbed Alex’s arm, intending to take her somewhere more private, but she shook him off. “Take your hands off me.” Her voice was deceptively calm, but he didn’t miss the way it shook. It damn near killed him.

Those photos of him and Emily in the newspaper, Alex had seen them. He couldn’t think of any other reason for this. “We need to talk. Those pictures—”

She crossed her arms, causing her barely covered breasts to almost pop out of her top. “The time for talk is over, Deke.”

He shrugged out of his jacket. “Put this on. Now.” Every male in the room had his eyes on her, on his woman, and he wanted to tear their fucking eyes out.

“Why? Are you ashamed to be seen with your whore? Afraid your wife will see us?”

He shoved a hand through his hair. “I don’t have a wife, Alex. You know that.”

Her beautiful face twisted—anger, hurt, it was all there to see. She hid nothing. She loved him. She loved him, and he’d hurt her. Badly. “Alex…sweetheart…”

Her hand connected with the side of his face, the sound loud in the now near silent room. “Don’t call me that.”

His sisters were at Alex’s side in an instant. Rusty scowled at him. “You fucked up, Deke, big-time.” Then she grabbed Alex’s hand. “Come on. Let’s get the hell out of here.”

Then Piper, his usually cool-headed, sweet sister, stepped up to him. “If you bring that skank”—she pointed over his shoulder, and he knew Emily was standing right behind him, making this ten times worse, and as usual, taking advantage of the situation for her own gain—“to my cottage, I’ll run the bitch down, then back over her for good measure.”

Emily gasped, and he spun to face his ex-wife. “Walk away from me, now. Before I say something in front of all these people you sure as hell won’t want me to.”

She grabbed his arm, and he shook her off. “I love you, Deacon.” She said it without an ounce of real emotion except desperation, desperation that had nothing to do with losing a man who was supposedly the love of her life.

“Well, that’s unfortunate”—he turned back to the three pissed-off females still standing behind him—“because I’m in love with Alex.” Alex’s eyes widened, and his sisters’ mouths dropped open. “Are you really so shocked?” he rasped. He heard Emily’s broken sob behind him, heard her hasty retreat, but kept his gaze on Alex. “Baby?”

Alex stumbled back a step and shook her head, a tear streaking down her cheek, then she spun on her heel and ran from the room.

Rusty grabbed his arm when he started after her. “What about Emily, the photos?”

“I don’t have time to explain.”

Piper joined her older sister and crossed her arms. “Make time, or we’ll make sure you never get near her again.”

He was on the verge of losing his mind. Every second Alex was getting farther away from him. “There’s nothing going on between me and Emily. She’s been playing me, manipulating situations, like she always has. I love Alex.”

“Bitch,” Piper growled.

“You better make this right. You better do everything in your power to make our girl listen to you.” Rusty’s fierce expression wobbled. “You made her cry, Deke. Alex never cries. Ever. Not since—”

Not since she ran through a window at the cottage to avoid being taken back to her foster home. She’d gotten that wicked scar on her arm as a reminder. How could she ever forgive him? Alex had suffered more than her fair share of pain, and he’d done nothing but cause her more.

He had to get to her, make her understand. He took off running flat out through the room and onto the street.

But he was too late.

Alex was gone.