Authors: M Leighton
“So you’re doing it for your dad?”
“Partly.”
He nods slowly. The expression on his face
says he doesn’t believe me, but he says nothing. He just changes
the subject.
“What about Mom?”
“She left. A long time ago.”
His eyes narrow on me, but again he says
nothing. He’s a very perceptive guy.
“And this bad-boy boyfriend?”
“Bad boy?”
“Yeah. The type you apparently avoid
now.”
“Oh, right.” I laugh. It’s one single bark of
bitterness. “Ummm, he fell into a wood chipper?” I ask, hoping
he’ll get the hint that I don’t really want to talk about him
either.
He pauses with his drink halfway to his
mouth, as if judging whether or not I’m serious, then he grins and
takes a sip.
“Poor guy. And the one before that?”
“Eaten by a shark?”
“And before that?”
“Kidnapped by a travelling circus?”
He chuckles. “Wow. Your life’s like a
cautionary tale.”
“Future suitors be warned.”
“I’m willing to take my chances,” he says
with a wink.
My stomach flutters in response and my heart
does a funny flip that is, in and of itself, a huge red flag.
Change the subject! Change the subject!
“So, what about your family?”
That cools his teasing mood considerably. “A
long, horrible story, too awful for the likes of your tender
ears.”
“Oh, is that so? So
you
can ask all
kinds of questions, but this is all I get?”
I’m only half teasing. I really do want him
to answer some questions, especially while I’ve got my wits about
me. Somewhat anyway.
“My questionable upbringing and suspicious
connections might make you shake in your boots,” he jokes with a
not-quite-half smile.
I turn on my stool and look down at my feet.
“I’m not wearing boots.”
“I can see that,” Cash says, reaching down to
brush his palm up my calf. “No panty hose either.”
A bubble of air is trapped in my throat,
making it impossible for me to breathe. Chills break out and shoot
up my leg, straight into my panties.
He looks up at me, his eyes flashing. I know
what he wants. And I know he knows I want it, too. It’s there in
his eyes. There’s no reason for me to even try to deny it. But what
to do about it?
In my indecision, I turn my legs back toward
the bar, away from his hand. He smiles. Knowingly. But he goes
along.
For now.
He finishes his drink in one long pull then
turns to me. I push my beer away.
“You ready?”
Talk about your loaded question!
I nod. I’m not sure what all I just agreed
to, but every nerve in my body is alive with anticipation.
“Come on,” he says with a tip of his head and
a wicked grin. “Let’s go get you off.”
I can’t help but smile.
CHAPTER TWENTY- Cash
I can’t keep my hands off Olivia as we leave
the bar. Not completely anyway. As she steps out in front of me, I
put my hand at the base of her spine. I feel her twitch at the
contact. It’s not a flinch, but an actual twitch. Like I shocked
her with a small electrical current. Like she’s feeling everything
I’m feeling. And I’d bet any amount of money she is.
It’s sexual awareness. It’s attraction. It’s
anticipation. She’s made her choice. She doesn’t have to tell me,
or even admit it to herself, but she’s made it nonetheless. I can
feel it.
I walk her out to her car. My bike is parked
sideways in front of it. She stops when we get close to it.
“Is this what you drive?” she asks, turning
those wide eyes up to me.
“Yes,” I say, but then I add with a smirk,
“but you’re not surprised, are you? Isn’t this what bad-boys do?
Ride motorcycles and break hearts?”
Her smile is weak. “I suppose so.”
She turns away and moves around to unlock the
car door and pop the hood.
I shouldn’t have said that.
I unstrap the jumper cables I brought from
behind the seat and hook them from my battery to hers.
“Will that be enough to jump start my
car?”
“Should be. Go give it a try.”
I watch Olivia as she slides in behind the
wheel to give it a crank. The engine doesn’t turn over; it just
makes a clicking sound.
She shakes her head and gets back out. “It’s
not working.”
“You think?” I tease.
She tilts her head to the side and gives me a
dirty look.
Damn, she’s adorable.
“The reason for that is that it sounds like
the alternator, not the battery.”
She slumps over the car door. “Ohmigod!
That’s expensive, isn’t it?” she mumbles.
“It’s not cheap. But I know a guy.” I say it
in my best mobster voice.
She looks up and grins. “Those suspicious
connections, huh? Can you get me some concrete boots while you’re
at it?”
“Probably,” I say, deadpan.
I see a frown flicker across her forehead.
She doesn’t know whether I’m joking or not.
“Get your stuff. I’ll take you home. I’ll
have my buddy come get your car and we’ll figure something out
tomorrow.” She looks undecided, tapping her fingers along the door
frame. “It’ll be fine here for a little while. I don’t think
anybody will mess with it.”
She snorts. And then looks embarrassed that
she did. “In a way, I’d almost be relieved.”
“Hey, I know a guy…” I say.
She laughs outright. And I love the sound.
Makes me think of tickling her. In bed. While she’s naked. Lying on
top of me.
Without further argument, she locks up the
car and comes to stand beside my bike. She shrugs her shoulders.
“What now?”
“You’ve never ridden a motorcycle
before?”
“Nope.”
“What kind of bad-boy girlfriend are you?” I
ask in mock dismay.
“Evidently a terrible one.”
I swing onto the bike and grab my only
helmet. “Nah, you just haven’t met the right bad-boy.”
Her cheeks flush a little. I want to kiss
her. Again. And I will. Just not right now.
“Put this on and then get on behind me,” I
say, handing her the helmet. Obediently, she slips it over her head
and then throws one leg over the bike and scoots onto the seat. I
see her long, bare legs clamp around my hips and I look back at
her. Her eyes are shining behind the raised shield of the helmet as
she situates against me. “Put your arms around my waist and hold
on.”
Her eyes never leaving mine, she leans in
close and slides her hands around to my stomach. I can feel that
plump chest of hers against my back and I jerk inside my jeans.
I turn around and start the engine. I let it
idle for a few seconds while I regain my composure. It’s hard to
rid my mind of the image of her sitting in front of me, minus those
shorts, with her legs wrapped around me. I’d give her the best ride
home she’s ever had.
With a growl, I rev the engine and ease us
upright and off the kickstand. Shifting quickly into gear, we take
off like a shot down the street.
I love the adrenaline of my bike. I always
have. I try my best to let it chase away the feel of Olivia at my
back, but I think nothing short of a week locked up in a bedroom
with her can accomplish that. And oh what a week that would be.
It doesn’t take long to get to her place.
It’s kind of a sweet torture. In a way, I wish the ride was longer.
But then, in another way, I’m glad it’s not. The longer she’s
wrapped around me and pressed up against me, the harder it is to
control myself. Especially now that I know she wants me.
And she’s so close to giving in.
When I stop along the curb, she hesitates for
a second before she gets off. She comes to stand beside me, handing
me the helmet she’s already removed. I hold it under my arm,
against my leg and wait for her to speak. She looks like she has
something to say.
“How did you know where I live?”
She doesn’t sound concerned. Just
curious.
“Employee forms. Remember?”
“Ahh,” she murmurs with a nod. She’s waiting.
And I think I know for what. “So, do you want to come in?”
“I’d better get back, but thanks anyway.”
She’s good at hiding her disappointment. But
not that good.
“Okay, well thank you. I really appreciate
you coming to help. And for the ride home, too, of course.”
“Not a problem.”
“So, I guess I’ll talk to you tomorrow?”
“Yep. I’ll be in touch.”
She nods again, slowly. Waiting.
“Well, goodnight.”
I love watching her, watching her uncertainty
and her hesitation. And her attempts at denying what we both know
she’s feeling. Teasing her is going to be so much fun. Hot, sweet,
sexy, delicious fun.
I reach out and brush her hair away from her
cheek. “Sweet dreams, Olivia.”
I rush to put my helmet on to hide my smile
from her. I want her to be ready to beg for it.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE- Olivia
I walk away from Cash before I do something
stupid like proposition him.
What the hell is the matter with you?
Before I get more than a few steps, I
remember my car. I turn back to get Cash’s attention before he
pulls away. I dig my keys out and take them to him.
I see his frown behind the smoky shield of
the helmet. “Don’t you need them to get inside?”
“I’ve got a spare,” I explain.
He nods once and takes the keys, sliding them
into his front pocket.
I give him a quick smile then hurry away. I
refuse to look back at him, even though I know he’s still at the
curb. I can hear the throaty rumble of his idling bike. But more
than that, I can feel his eyes on me. I just wish they were his
hands instead. And his mouth.
I shut my eyes as I reach for the spare key
under the flower pot on the porch. It’s when I open my eyes to push
it into the lock and open the door that I hear him accelerate away
from the curb. I guess he was making sure I could get in okay
without my keys.
Oh, good God! Don’t show me the sweet,
considerate side! I won’t stand a chance.
After I get inside, I lean back against the
door and stand there with my eyes closed until I can no longer hear
even the faintest rumble of Cash’s motorcycle.
My legs and butt are tingling from the
vibrations of the bike. The rest of me is tingling from being
wrapped around Cash. Tingling or aching. Or both.
Frustrated—both sexually
and
with
myself for my utter lack of hormone control—I flick on the light
and push away from the door. The first thing I see is the vase of
flowers on the coffee table in the living room. They are a bright
spot of color in an otherwise fairly muted room. I walk to the
spray of lilies and bend to stick my nose into one. It smells
wonderful, but something pokes the corner of my mouth. It’s the
card announcing who they’re from.
I reach for the tiny square. I feel bad
reading Marissa’s “mail,” but then again, she shouldn’t leave it
lying around. Or poking out of flower arrangements.
As I pull the card from the envelope, I
chastise myself for inflicting more torture. I’m sure they’re from
Nash. And I’m sure the card is probably some sweet little love note
that will make me want to jump out of a tall, tall building, but
that doesn’t stop me. I’m too curious, so I read it anyway.
And I get a surprise.
“Olivia, if you need anything give me a call.
I’m never far. N.”
A little thrill races down my spine. He
must’ve used Marissa’s keys to come inside and leave these for me.
I can’t help but wonder if he just dropped them off and left or if
he stayed for a few minutes. Or walked around. Or went into my
bedroom.
I doubt Nash would do anything like that, and
the thought that he might ought to creep me out. Only it doesn’t.
The idea that he might’ve gone to look inside my bedroom excites me
for some reason. And I’m already excited enough by his dangerous
brother.
Feeling more and more like it’s vibrator
time, I get ready for bed. A vigorous tooth-brushing and
face-scrubbing don’t help that feeling. The brothers chase each
other through my head, taunting me with their words and their eyes
and their touch. By the time I slide between the sheets, I have no
doubt what my dreams will be about. Or rather
who
my dreams
will be about.
The click of the front door closing wakes me.
Having just fallen asleep, it takes me a few seconds to determine
whether I’m awake or not.
Strangely, I feel no fear when I see the
tall, vague shadow stop just outside my bedroom doorway. I
recognize it instantly. I’d know that shape and that fluid way of
moving anywhere.
It’s Cash.
Or Nash.
I start to speak, but the words die on my
lips when he moves slowly toward the bed. He stops at the foot.
I’ve always loved how dark my room is until now. Now, I’d give
anything to see him more clearly, for some clue as to which brother
it is.
He bends and grabs the covers, dragging them
off me. Chills spread over my arms and legs, partly due to the
temperature change, partly due to the guy standing at the foot of
my bed.
He says nothing. Neither do I. Instinctively,
I know words will shatter the wicked perfection of the moment. And
that’s the last thing I want to do.
With very deliberate movements, he reaches
forward and winds his long fingers around my ankles. Slowly, he
pulls me toward him, toward the end of the bed. I’m breathless. And
excited. And still I say nothing.
His fingers loosen their grip, but his hands
don’t leave me. No, instead, he slides his palms up the outsides of
my calves to my knees where he stops. I see him bend forward then I
feel his lips on my left thigh. They’re like a red-hot branding
iron. His tongue flickers out to taste my skin sending heat gushing
to my core.
“I can’t stop thinking about doing this to
you,” he whispers, so quietly I can barely hear him. “Tell me to
stop now if you don’t want this. If you don’t want me.”