Burning Ember (41 page)

“Mav invited me back. Said you guys were runnin’ low on unclaimed and easy pussy.”

“So here you are . . .” the snarky words simply fall out of my mouth.

Tilting her head and arching a brow, Star replies in a sharp tone, “Yep. Here I am. Not my problem if you can’t keep the men around here satisfied.”

I hear the rustle of sheets or clothing behind her.
Oh, no, he’s getting out of bed!
I don’t want to see him. My heart’s pounding so loud, it sounds like a gong in my ears as I spin and head down the hallway. A huge part of me wants to stay and face him. Give him a piece of my mind, and maybe deliver another punch to his perfect jaw, but what’s the point. It won’t change a thing.

Dozer calls my name but my emotions are flying all over the place. Anger. Jealousy. Betrayal. I can’t focus on anything except getting as far away from him as I can.

But I stop short when I hit the stairs. My foot lands on the top rung and goes no further. My gaze is focused down and at first the black hair and wide shoulders look familiar but it doesn’t register to my subconscious who the man is coming up the stairs.

“Babe, wait it’s not . . .” I hear Dozer say somewhere behind me. But he must see what I see because his words trail off.

The man in front of me raises his head and his eyes sweep up my body. Irises the color of wheat center on my face.

Mav.

My next thought is . . .
Am I dreaming?

The frown I’ve seen often on his face changes. The sides of his mouth turn up.

“Hi,” he says simply.

Hi.
Just one word. A word I’ve used and heard a zillion times, yet it sounds like he’s saying so much more.
I’m so happy to see you. I’ve missed you.
But I know that’s merely my imagination.

His grin nearly becomes a panty-dropping smile before he catches on to my mood and the tension carried in every one of my limbs.

Dozer puts his hand on my back. Mav’s eyes travel to the man behind me, and then back to me. His brows knit together.

“Why the fuck are Edge and Star goin’ at it in your room?” Dozer asks.

I try and fail to wrap my head around what Dozer just said.
Edge and Star.
I repeat the names at least ten times before they finally sink in.

Confusion flickers over Mav’s face and then he scrutinizes mine. He takes in the emotions rioting through me. Surely, they’re written all over my expression for him to see.

“I gave it up to Edge,” he explains to me and not Dozer. “I bought a place nearby and didn’t want to hog up a big room that I wouldn’t need anymore.”

It wasn’t him. It wasn’t him. Oh, my God . . . it wasn’t him.

A balloon swells inside me and I let the pent up air in my lungs escape in a rush.

He’s standing there in a black T-shirt, dark jeans, his cut, and his necklace hanging over his shirt. He takes a step toward me and then another, and my hands start to shake.

“Can I talk to you?” he asks.

I nod numbly, still in a daze.

“Alone.” Not a question.

“Okay.”

“You sure?” This time the question comes from Dozer. I look back over my shoulder at him. He’s glaring at Mav, but his gaze swings to me for a second.

“Yes.” The word comes out whispery soft from between my lips.

Dozer lets out a disapproving grunt and trudges past me. He slams his shoulder into Mav and pushes him back. For a second, I think they’re going to throw down right here on the stairs, but they don’t. They only exchange deadly glares and Dozer moves closer. He whispers something to Mav too low for me to hear and then gives him one final push before he leaves.

“The fuck’s that about?” A gruff voice says behind me. Turning my head, I see Edge standing next to Star in the hallway. He’s shirtless and his jeans have been left unbuttoned. He’s thin, too thin, but every bit of him is also pure muscle.

“Nothin’,” Mav replies.

Edge’s haunted eyes shift from Mav to me. His gaze slides down my body. “This the redhead you threatened to cut my balls off if I touched? This your girl?”

Mav comes toward me until he’s blocking me from Edge, standing right in front of me. His hand slides down and his fingers intertwine with mine. Looking into my eyes, he says, “Not yet, but I’m workin’ on it.”

There are men you should love, because they’re great men, and then there are men that simply take the choice away from you.

EMBER

We pass two doors before Mav unlocks one and pulls me inside. Daylight streams in through the window across from us, shedding light on the queen-sized oak bed up against the wall, and the Berber carpet that’s seen better days. The space is half the size of his other room, and there’s a subtle citrus scent, as if it’s recently been cleaned.

“It’s not much,” he says, “but I won’t be living here, just crashing in it when I need to.”

I take in the wrinkled champagne-colored comforter. “The bedding looks new.”

He nods. “It is. The mattress too.”

We’re both staring at the bed. The air around us buzzes with awkward silence and sexual tension.

Mav clears his throat and turns fully toward me.

He’s so devastatingly handsome that it’s almost crippling, and I have to force my body not to react on the outside though inside it’s lighting up like the fourth of July.

There’s a good amount of stubble covering his jaw. The cut on his lip is nearly healed and he’s no longer sporting the bruises Dozer gave him. In fact, his cheeks are tan and sun kissed, which does incredible things for his light eyes.

His thumb brushes over my knuckles. It draws my attention to our joined hands. His big warm hand dwarfs mine. His hold is relaxed enough that if I wanted to pull away, I’d be able to, and I like that.

He steps closer. At the same time, he raises my chin. “You thought it was me with Star?”

Even the mentioning of it has my stomach curling into knots. There’s no point it denying it.

“They were going at it in your room, rather loudly, what else was I supposed to think?” I say as heat skyrockets to my cheeks.

Almost shyly, he asks, “How did that make you feel?” He tilts his head and searches for the answer in my eyes.

How did it make me feel?

Like a wrecking ball had crashed into me
.
Like I’d eaten raw fish and it was having a war with my stomach. Like I’d barely given myself permission to hope for something only to see it turn to smoke and ash.

I can’t say any of that though. Instead, I shake my head.

He lays his palm over my stomach. “Did it make you sick?” he asks softly. My skin heats and my abdomen muscles contract underneath his hand.

Yes . . .

I close my eyes to fight the pull of him. But it’s overwhelming. My body’s waking up from the death it just experienced, and I’m aware of every breath, his and mine.

“Doll?”

The cadence of his tone is changing. It’s almost pleading . . .

His hand moves to lay over my pounding heart. I feel him. And when I say I feel him, I mean I
feel
him. His touch isn’t just skin deep, it goes all the way down to every part of me, wraps around all my vital organs, and travels back up only to pierce my heart.

“What about here?” he whispers this time. And I swear I can count his heart beats through the veins in his palm.

Oh, God
. . .

I can’t breathe . . .

Moisture builds behind my eyes.

“Doll?”

Slowly, I blink open my eyes.

His earnest expression kills me. “I need to know. Did you feel something here?” His eyes drop down to my mouth.

A breathy “Yes” escapes from my lips.

Oh . . . sweet heaven. Tell me that wasn’t my voice.

He slides his hand around to my nape and threads his fingers gently into my hair.

“It makes me crazy to think about you with someone else, to the point I can’t think straight. When I see you with Dozer, talkin’ to him, his hands on you, you smiling at him, my whole fuckin’ body feels like it’s going to explode.” He’s quiet for a second. Then he says, “When I saw you standin’ with him tonight, I thought you’d made your choice. I thought I’d already lost my chance.”

His amber gaze roams over my face. “Have I?”

It’s hard to stay focused with his body this close to mine, his intoxicating smell all around me, his lips a few inches away, and those eyes devouring me. Damn, those eyes.

It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell him no. But for three days, I’ve thought about this moment. I’ve thought about what I need to say to Mav before I open the door for him to come into my heart. Not that he hasn’t already—Lord knows he has—but I can’t open it any further without drawing a line about how I need to be treated going forward.

“I guess it depends.”

“On?”

“On whether or not you’re going to suddenly switch personalities on me and go back to being . . . like you were.”

His serious expression becomes more severe. “I won’t. It’s sick, but it took hurting you to snap some fuckin’ sense into me. I know now you didn’t deserve any of the shit I laid at your feet, and I swear on my life, I’m never gonna lay another hand on you.”

I place my hand on his chest and push, but he’s immoveable. He’s a rock, a leaning one that seems to be getting further and further into my space. “And I’m just supposed to believe you?”

He licks his lips and takes a deep breath. “Before, I couldn’t see past the hate riding me. Now I see what I should’ve seen that first day. You’re not her, and I have to fuckin’ change or something amazing is going to slip through my hands. If it hasn’t already.”

I try to look away but he cups my face.

“Look, I know I can’t fix this with words, Doll. It’ll take time. And even though you have every right to hate me and tell me to fuck off,”—he rubs his thumb over my jaw—“I’m beggin’ for that time. I can prove things are different. That I’m different.”

His gaze sweeps over my face. “Fuck. I was chasin’ the reaper when you walked into my office that day. I didn’t give a damn about anyone or anything, and I didn’t care if I lived another day.” He rests his forehead against mine. “But now I’m lookin’ forward to tomorrow. And not just tomorrow, but what’s gonna happen in the next ten minutes, in the next few hours, and in the next few days . . . because I hope I’ll be spendin’ that time with you.”

He closes his eyes and shakes his head. “Please, just give me some time.”

I make him sweat it out. Not because I’m wavering, my decision was already made the minute I saw him standing on the stairs. I’m making him wait for my answer because of the hell he put me through for nearly two weeks.

“I will. But . . .”

Still cupping my face, a tentative smile tugs at the corners of his mouth.

“You hurt me again and I’m gone. No third chance. No excuses. You let me go and you don’t follow me.”

The muscle in his jaw ticks twice before he says, “All right.” He sweeps my bangs away from my eyes, tilts my face up, and places a slow, soft peck on my lips. “Thank you.”

“Don’t make me regret this.”

“I won’t.” His lips caress mine. “And Doll, you control this. Every part of it. If you want me around, I’ll be there. If you need time or space . . . I’ll give it to you. It’s your call.” He strokes my cheekbone and his voice lowers. “If you wanna take it slow, we’ll take it slow. Just as long as we take this somewhere.”

In an instant, I’m hot all over. I’m in a daze of lust, but not enough that the word slow doesn’t trigger a collage of bad memories. Without thinking I mumble, “I’ve never had slow.”

He pulls back. Confusion covers his features and his smile flattens. His brow wrinkles as he studies me. Then something dawns on him and anger flashes through his eyes. “Fuck, babe. I didn’t mean sex. I meant this. Me and you movin’ forward.”

A pained expression flitters over his face. “He never gave it to you soft? Not even the first time?”

Shaking my head, I say, “Not once.”

His nostrils flare and his jaw hardens. “Motherfucker.” The grip he has on my nape tightens. “You deserved better, Doll.”

Yeah I did. I know I did. That’s why I did everything in my power to leave him.

“When we get there, Doll. It’ll be however you need it to be. Like I said, you control this.”

Images of Mav being with Star, and tying Jade down flash through my mind. “But that’s not how you like it. With Jade and . . .”

The muscles in his jaw pop at my reply. His thumb covers my lips. “That’s how I needed it then. It was just about gettin’ off. No emotions. No connection. I didn’t want them touchin’ me. I didn’t want it to last long.” Letting go of my face, he picks up my hand and lifts his shirt, placing my palm under it, against the ropy muscles of his stomach. “Everything’s different with you. I need you touchin’ me. I feel everything when you do. Time fuckin’ stops. With you, it’ll mean somethin’. Every time. No matter how little or how much of yourself you give me.”

If I haven’t already, I think I just fell for him.

Hard . . .

Chills run up my arms, over my shoulders, and down my spine. I can’t help myself as I move my hand further up his chest, feeling more of him. His eyes spark with heat, and his breathing grows ragged.