Текст книги "Crashed"

Автор книги: Sherilee Gray

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Текущая страница: 3 (всего у книги 14 страниц)

Chapter Three

Getting out of bed would be a colossal mistake. Alex knew what was coming, what the day would bring, and was powerless to stop it. Kind of like being tied to the tracks in one of those old black-and-white movies and watching a freight train come barreling toward you full speed. “Helpless” was the word that came to mind. Fucking helpless.

She hadn’t felt like that since her folks died, since she’d been shuttled from one foster home to the next. The funny thing was, it had been Deacon who’d made her believe she wasn’t nothing, that if she vanished into thin air, someone would actually give a crap.

God, she’d needed that.

She’d had no one. No parents. No one who cared, except for Rusty and Piper. She’d spent all her time at her friends’ house. It had been one of those weekends while she was staying with the Wests that things had changed.

Because of her situation, some of the boys had seen her as easy prey. Deacon had found her with one of them behind the garage. He’d had her pinned to the wall. The weasel had kissed her, tried to cop a feel. One minute she’d been trying to fight him off, the next he was gone, laid out flat by a pissed-off Deacon.

After he’d scared the guy away, he’d slung an arm around her shoulders, pulled her in for a hug, and asked if she was okay. He’d been furious, had taken care of her. She’d already been half in love with him by then. But after that, she’d been toast.

Over the next few years, he’d been there for her, had looked out for her—until he went away to college. Then it was like he’d disappeared off the face of the earth. God, how she’d missed him.

Not long after that, he’d gotten himself a preppy business-school girlfriend. Emily had perky tits and a smile to match, and Alex had been forced to suffer every time he came back home, Miss Perky at his side, stuck to him like shit to a blanket.

When she’d turned eighteen and was old enough to leave the foster-care system, Jacob West had invited her to move in with them. She’d been living there a few months when Deke had come home for the summer. She’d been secretly dreading it. Watching him make out with his girlfriend hadn’t been one of her favorite pastimes. But when he’d arrived, he’d been alone. He and Emily had broken up. She’d had no idea what had happened between them, and she hadn’t cared. All she’d cared about was that she had him back. It’d been like old times.

She’d been so happy that summer.

Then one night, when she’d gone to grab a drink, she’d found Deke in the kitchen. For the first time in her life, he didn’t look at her like his sisters’ best friend. There’d been a whole lot of heat in that intense stare and—she’d convinced herself—so much more.

The memory came rushing back unbidden.

“Shit, Alex. Do you have any idea how long I’ve wanted to kiss you?”

Her heart hammered behind her ribs. “You have?”

He grabbed her hips and pulled her in flush against him, brushed his thumb over her bottom lip. “I need to know what you taste like.” His fingers flexed on her waist, and she could feel his erection against her stomach. “Can I?”

He’d kissed her. It’d been long and sweet and full of desperate need, and then without a word he’d taken her hand and led her to his room. Convinced that she was part of this amazing family, that Deacon loved her and when he finished college they’d get married and Piper and Rusty would be her sisters for real, she’d followed blindly.

She’d been young, naive, had stupidly thought she meant something to him.

She hadn’t.

He’d taken her virginity that night, then the next day Emily had called, crying and begging him to take her back. He had. He’d run back to her, leaving Alex behind.

Jesus, it had hurt.

Deacon had asked Emily to marry him not long after that, and when Alex found out, she’d cried herself to sleep for a full month.

Idiot.

They got married in a private ceremony a month later. They saw even less of Deacon after that. It had hurt his sisters, the distance he’d put between them, and for no good reason, as far as they could see. But then after only four years of wedded bliss, he and Emily had called it quits. Not even Rusty or Piper knew why Deacon had filed for divorce, and he hadn’t offered an explanation.

In the end, not even perky Emily with her college education and rich daddy had been good enough.

Now not a trace of the old Deacon remained.

Which meant it should be easy to keep her feelings for him in check. No way was she falling hopelessly in love with him all over again. Not going to happen.

“Enough.” Punching her pillow, she sat up.

No matter how much she wished it, time would not stop for her, and lying around in bed just gave her time to think about the boy he’d been, about things that could only lead to pain and heartache—about the huge mistake she was making.

She dragged her butt out of bed early and, feeling nervous and cranky, got ready for work.

Holding a piece of toast between her teeth, she bent to do up her boots. Mr. Cannon’s restoration job was coming in this morning, and she was anxious to get started. Plus, they had a few other smaller jobs coming in. Busy for a Tuesday, but today of all days, she was happy for the distraction.

They had three months to prove Deacon wrong. If they had several big jobs lined up, it would blow his theory that they’d set themselves up to fail, that they were playing shop.

She stood and pulled her hair back, tying it in her usual ponytail, then opened the door and stumbled back a step. “Shit.” Some guy dressed in a suit and hat stood there about to knock.

He dropped his hand and smiled. “Miss Franco?”

“Who wants to know?”

“I’m Martin. Mr. West’s chauffeur. He wanted me to deliver this to you.” He held out a large box and one of those fancy store bags that had ribbon for handles.

“Um, just a sec.” She got rid of her toast and took it from him. Martin was tall and had graying hair and a kind face. She could tell, despite spending his days carting Deacon around, he was fit and took care of himself. “What is it?”

He smiled. “I couldn’t say.”

“Right. Well, thanks, Martin.”

The older man tipped his hat and left her with her packages. She looked over the rail to the garage below. The doors were still closed. Thank God. The last thing she wanted was for Piper or Rusty to see his car parked outside her place. She shut the door and carried them to the living room, putting the bag down and placing the box on the coffee table. She slowly circled the thing like it was stuffed full of poisonous spiders waiting to pounce.

The name on the box was written in another language, maybe French. She’d never seen it before. Then her curiosity got the better of her, and she pulled off the lid.

White tissue sat on top, and she folded it back. “Damn.” A dress of the deepest red sat among more white tissue. At least she thought it was a dress. She could see the top half. It looked simple, elegant. Rubbing her hands on her cutoffs so she didn’t get peanut butter on it, she lifted the fabric carefully from the box.

It had spaghetti straps and a sheer overlay. Beautiful.

She’d never owned a dress like it. In fact, she didn’t own any dresses at all. She hadn’t even gone to her prom. She didn’t do clothes shopping, especially in the fancy stores. She always felt out of place. She might fix cars for a living, but she was girl, and sometimes she wanted to feel like one. Sometimes she wanted to wander around those extravagant stores and try on beautiful clothes like everyone else.

Deacon knew it, too. She’d told him once, after one too many sneaky beers at Rusty’s seventeenth birthday. He hadn’t laughed at her confession; he’d smiled at her, eyes soft, and said, “You deserve nothing but the best, Alex.”

She pushed the memory aside, doubted he even remembered now. She looked back down at the dress, and her pulse sped up, heat rushing to the surface of her skin. Jesus, she was actually looking forward to wearing it, to spending time with Deacon. Deacon, who was a controlling, blackmailing asshole.

Her phone rang and she jumped, dropping the dress back in the box. “Shoot.” Yanking her phone from her back pocket, she saw Deacon’s name flash across the screen.

As much as she wanted to, she didn’t think ignoring him and pretending none of this was happening would make him go away.

“Do you like it?” he said as soon as she answered. She didn’t miss the way his voice had deepened, sounding rougher than usual. Obviously he liked it.

Her traitorous body instantly fired to life at the sound of his voice, the memory of how he’d growled dirty things to her in the darkness. How she’d become putty in his hands when he’d taken control of her body, how she’d loved every second of it.

Gah! She squeezed her eyes closed. She had to stop thinking of that night.

She wasn’t going to fall all over him just because he bought her a damn dress. No way would she make this easy for him. “How did you find the time to get it? I only agreed to be your sexual plaything last night.”

He was quiet for several seconds. “Don’t say that, Alex. That’s not what this is.” He sounded pissed.

She wasn’t touching that with a barge pole. “Sorry, does escort suit you better?”

He growled. “Alex…”

The rough sound sent an erotic tingle down her spine. “Whatever. I take it this is what you want me to parade around in for you tonight?”

“Yes. There should be shoes there as well?”

He was back to being Mr. Chill. Good. This was an arrangement, a deal—granted, a sick and twisted one—but in the end they’d both get what they wanted, nothing more. The building would be out of his hands, and she’d never have to answer to him again, and that’s all that mattered.

He’d said himself he wasn’t interested in a committed relationship, and she’d do well to remember it.

“Worried I’ll embarrass you in front of all your stuffy suit friends?”

He sighed. “No. But cutoffs and a Metallica T-shirt won’t fit the dress code. We’d be turned away at the door.” He was quiet a heartbeat. “And I wanted to do something nice for you.”

Jesus. If he tried to be nice, she wouldn’t survive the next few months. “Well, you’ll have to excuse me for questioning your motives. I’ve recently learned your good deeds come at a high price.”

She could almost hear his teeth grinding down the line. “I’ll see you at my place at seven thirty sharp.”

“I’ll be there.”

“Yes. You will.” Then the phone went dead.

Crap.

…

Deacon looked at his watch. His little viper should be here any minute.

He’d been off his game all day, his mind fixed on Alex. After their phone conversation this morning, he’d begun to doubt his plan. But drastic situations called for drastic measures.

She was afraid of her own feelings, afraid of what might happen if she got close to him. He’d seen the way she looked out for his sisters. The way she almost clung to them. She was afraid all the time, afraid that one day she might lose them, too.

But she hadn’t been able to hide her response to him when he’d shown up at her place. He’d seen the longing in her eyes. So much so, he’d been tempted to come clean, tell her everything, tell her the way he felt, but then that fear, that wariness had rushed forward and she’d withdrawn from him, throwing up that damn wall. He knew in that moment his only option was to move forward, continue on with his plan. She wanted him as much as he wanted her, he knew this, but if he eased up, gave her an inch, told her the truth, she’d run a mile. He just had to chip away her defenses, get under her skin, prove to her that she could trust him, that he wouldn’t disappear on her.

Not this time.

He’d let security at his apartment know Alex was coming. She would be spending a lot of time with him over the next three months, and he wanted her to come and go as she pleased.

He wasn’t surprised when the quiet, almost hesitant knock came. He didn’t waste time answering it, afraid she’d change her mind and run before he got there.

When he opened the door and laid eyes on her, he was glad he still held the door handle. His mouth went dry and his dick hardened at the sight of her. She was wearing the dress he’d picked out. He’d had a friend of his open her shop after Alex had agreed to his conditions. As soon as he’d seen it, he’d known it was the one.

The deep red was the same shade as the petals tattooed on her upper arm and shoulder, and the dress hugged her curves in all the right places. He dropped his gaze and stifled a groan. The shoes looked sexy as hell, and slightly edgy, like the woman herself.

He’d never seen her in heels before—never seen her in a dress, for that matter. She wouldn’t meet his eyes, her gaze darting everywhere but at him. He grabbed her hand and pulled her into his apartment, and when she did finally look up at him, he could see she was trying to appear unaffected. But she was biting her lower lip, something he knew she did when she was nervous.

“You look stunning.”

“Um…thanks.” Her gaze darted away again, widened. “Holy crap, this place is huge.” Her hair hung down her back, sleek and sexy. His fingers itched to reach out and touch.

He chuckled. “Thanks. I like it.”

She eyed him, and he saw that spark she got right before she put someone in their place. “It wasn’t a compliment. The place is like a mausoleum.”

“Do you plan on being a brat for the whole evening?”

“Haven’t decided.”

She was nervous and purposely trying to piss him off. What she didn’t know was that he loved that feisty side of her nature, just not when she was using it to protect herself.

He ran his hands over her bare shoulders. “This is our first official date.”

The pulse in her throat fluttered madly. She shrugged. “I guess.”

“I don’t want you to be worried about tonight. My meeting is an informal one, just drinks and some dinner with a client.”

Her brow scrunched. “I’m not worried. I couldn’t care less what your client”—she lifted her fingers, adding air quotes—“thinks of me.”

He ignored her rancor and cupped the side of her face. She stilled but then licked her lips. Always a contradiction. “You know what tonight means, being our first official date?”

“That you’ve officially lost your mind and crossed over to the dark side?”

He brushed his thumb across her jaw, and she leaned in, swaying a little closer. He didn’t even think she was aware she was doing it. Her body was saying the opposite of that smart mouth. She couldn’t hide the way he affected her, no matter how hard she tried.

“No.” He dipped his head so his mouth was half an inch from hers, close enough he could feel the way her warm breath rushed from between her parted lips. “It means I can kiss you…whenever I want.”

But he didn’t. He waited, needing her to close the gap, to show him she wanted this as much as he did. Her hands went to his shoulders, fingers digging in, and she pushed. There was no real feeling behind it, so he held his ground.

Alex stood there, breath coming harder, faster.

Shit. His gut twisted.

Just when he thought it wouldn’t happen and this whole plan had been the biggest mistake of his life, that Alex didn’t want him and he’d have to give her up and walk away, she stopped pushing, gripped the front of his jacket, and going up on her tiptoes, tugged him closer.

Her lips collided with his, and as soon as they did, she whimpered into his mouth. Yes.

He kissed her like he’d been aching to for months, and she returned it just as fiercely, her tongue sliding against his in that amazing uninhibited way he would never get enough of.

He slid his hands from her waist up to her beautiful breasts, and she made a strangled sound but pushed closer. He lightly nipped her lower lip, and she kissed him back harder, thrusting her fingers into his hair, and held him there so he wouldn’t stop. God, her reaction to his touch made his dick strain and his balls ache. How would he get through dinner with her right beside him?

He brushed his thumbs across the hardened peaks of her nipples and nearly came in his pants when he felt the small bar that went through the right one. He groaned and tore his mouth from hers. “Fuck, Alex. You’ve had your nipple pierced?”

She was still clutching his jacket and sucked on his lip before answering. “Yeah, and my belly button.”

Deacon slid his arms under her ass, lifted her off the floor, strode to the living room, and deposited her on the couch. If he took her to his room, they’d never leave the apartment. He could cancel his business dinner, but he didn’t think that was the best idea. As much as he wanted her, and he did, painfully so, he knew rushing things wouldn’t help his cause where Alex was concerned.

One taste before they left would have to do.

“What are you doing?” she asked, voice breathless, needy.

His answer was to drop to his knees in front of her. “One taste, Alex. Just one.” She sucked in a breath when he slipped a thin strap off her shoulder and pulled down her dress to reveal one perfect pink nipple. A metallic purple bar pierced the delicate flesh, which puckered further under his heated gaze.

“Do you have any idea how hot that is?”

She lifted her chin and smirked. “I’ve been told once or twice.”

Was she trying to piss him off? Hurt him? More than likely. The idea of another man seeing her like this, touching her, drove him insane. “Well, for the next three months you’re mine, Alex. Nobody else sees you like this. Do you understand?”

He brushed his thumb over the peak again. This time without her dress covering her, and she gasped. “It’s not like you’ve given me any other choice.”

“Exactly, so don’t fight it. Enjoy what I can do for you, what we can do for each other.” He bent down and sucked the purple bar into his mouth. The metal was warm from her body heat, and he groaned. He swirled his tongue, sucking hard, then tugged on her tender flesh while he continued to stroke the other one through her dress.

He glanced up. “Do you like that? Do you like it when I tug the barbell in that perfect little nipple?”

“Yes,” she gasped.

Her fingers were in his hair, and she fisted it almost painfully as she held him to her. She was still fighting it, fighting the way he made her feel. She squirmed, and he knew she was already wet for him. He shoved her dress higher so he could get between her legs.

Spreading her thighs, he pulled her to the edge of the couch so he had better access and rubbed his erection against her hot center. “Shit, Alex. You can feel it, can’t you, feel it between your thighs, deep inside, when I suck you into my mouth?” She wrapped her legs around his waist and kept him where she wanted him.

“Yes.”

“Feels good, doesn’t it, baby?”

She nodded, whimpering.

Shit. He sucked harder and ground against her. He could feel her heated flesh through his trousers but resisted the urge to free his dick, shove her panties aside, and fuck her hard right then and there. He didn’t want to rush this. He wanted to take his time, to savor her.

He palmed her ass and thrust against her, while he squeezed the other breast and gave the bar in his mouth another sharp tug.

She cried out, coming apart in his arms. He wanted to hear his name on her lips, but it was only a matter of time, he’d make sure of it. She yanked his hair again, holding him against her until her cries died and her body went soft and pliant.

He pulled back and looked down at her. So beautiful. “Next time I plan on watching you when you come.” It took serious self-control, but he lifted her straps back up, pulled her dress down over her thighs, and sat back on his heels. “We need to get going.”

Cheeks flushed and bottom lip swollen from biting on it, she looked adorable and sexy and confused as hell. She glanced down at the front of his pants and arched a brow. “You can’t go out in public like that.”

He chuckled, then kissed her lush mouth one more time because he couldn’t stop himself. “I have the drive to get myself under control. Maybe you can take care of it when we get back?”

Yeah, she liked that idea. It was written all over her face, even if she tried to hide it.

She shrugged. “Up to you if you want to go out with a boner like some creepy old perv.”

“I’m only three years older than you.”

Her red lips lifted in a cheeky grin, and his gut twisted. “Yeah? Well, you look much older.”

He laughed and pulled her off the couch. “Come on, you little deviant. Let’s go get this dinner over with. I’m not close to being finished with you.”

Her smile slipped, and she crossed her arms.

He tugged her closer. “What is it?”

“Nothing.” She pushed past him and strode to the door. “Let’s get this over with.”

He grabbed her hand before she walked out the door without him. He wouldn’t let her put distance between them, not ever again. Tonight was only the beginning.

He just had to convince her to take a chance and love again.