Metal & Lace (An Opposites Attract Novel Book 1) (20 page)

“Jesus, Gunnar, I…” I don’t know what to say. What do you say to something so terrifying, so surreal?

“It’s ok, Lace…It’s in the past.”

Obviously, that’s not the case. It’s forever imprinted in him. Right there, on his shoulder, a permanent reminder of the horror he was put through.

“What happened after that?”

“I was taken to the hospital, and the cops conducted an investigation. Though, it was pretty much an open and shut case. Everyone knew how he was, including the cops. They decided it was self-defense and that was that.”

“So, if he was dead, why did you still leave home so young?” I ask, my voice trembling.

“I couldn’t be there anymore. I loved my mom, but I also blamed her for putting up with him for so long. She let him hurt me. She let him fucking destroy us. It was just too painful. So, I moved around a lot until I made it to L.A. when I was sixteen. I met Jay shortly after in a home for street kids. We used to get into all kinds of shit together, breaking into people’s homes, stealing cars, drinking and drugs. We were arrested more times than I can count on my hands.

“Then we met Dylan one night in lockdown. I think we had all hit rock bottom at that point, so we cleaned up our acts, started the band, and worked odd jobs to pay rent on this shitty little studio apartment. We still drank and shit, but we were too focused on our music to get in any real trouble. It was the best time of my life.”

“Are you happy, now?” I feel like it’s a simple question, but one that’s hard to answer honestly. It’s hard to be completely truthful with yourself.

“What’s not to be happy about?” he says unenthusiastically, avoiding the question.

“You’re deflecting,” I state, lightly tugging on his beard.

His brow cocks, a playful smirk brushes across his face. “What are you, a reporter?”

I laugh. “Yes, it just so happens I am.”

“Why are you so curious?” he asks.

The lightness fades and the mood shifts drastically, becoming sullen.

“I want to know who I’m letting inside me.” I cup my hand over his cheek, rubbing my thumb against his cheekbone.

“Mm, that’s hot, baby.”

He falls forward, taking me with him, and lays between my legs so we’re pelvis to pelvis. His eyes stare into mine, turned up at the corners when he smiles.

“Please, just answer that last question then I promise no more for now.”

He lets out an exaggerated breath and rests his forehead against mine. When he lifts his face again, his serious eyes bore through me, there may even be a hint of sadness in them.

“No, Lace, I haven’t been happy for a long time.” A look of realization seems to wash over his face. “I haven’t been happy for a long time.” The second time is for him, allowing the thought to soak in.

I rest my hand over the other cheek, searching his eyes.

“I’m sorry, Gunnar.”

His lips kink up on one side. “I know how you can make me happy.”

“Yeah?” I say with a breathy voice. “How?”

“Like this,” he replies, submerging inside me with one hard thrust.

“Wyatt,” I moan, clawing at his back, mine arching severely. I’m not sure how he’ll react. But, instead of stiffening or giving me a wounded look, he moans in return, “Lacey.”

I hold her in my arms while she sleeps next me, her head resting
on my chest. I caress her back, feeling the soft, smooth flesh under my fingers. It calms me.

After tonight’s fucked encounter and revealing conversation, I need this more than anything. Watching her mother tear her down was painful. The look of sadness in her eyes tore me to shreds. It’s not so much how her mom sees me, most people have the same opinion she does, but I couldn’t handle Lace being abused like that by someone she’s supposed to be able to trust. Her own fucking mother of all people.

When she finally spoke up for herself, it was the moment I knew she changed. That’s when I knew I loved her.

We walk into Lombardi’s, a narrow room with red and white
tablecloths, real old school, gangster type shit. We grab a booth in the back toward the kitchen and settle in. Lace sits a few feet away from me and I pull her closer, dangling my arm over her shoulders.

“I’m fucking starving,” she comments, skimming the menu, but I already know what we’re ordering. When the waiter comes over to our table, I order the staple of this New York constitution, the Margherita pie and a couple beers.

“It’s been a long time since I’ve been on a date,” I comment, relaxing back into my seat.

“Is this a date?” she asks and bites down on her bottom lip.

“I know it isn’t very fancy,” I say apologetically.

“Gunnar, I hardly think you’re the fancy type,” she teases. “I like that about you. I don’t need to be on all the time like some show monkey.”

“You like me?” I ask playfully. “Like, like me?”

She slaps her hand over her face with a giggle. “Oh my God. Shut up, asshole.”

“Make me,” I groan into her ear, removing her hand from her eyes. She leans into me and places her cherry red lips against mine, shoving her tongue into my mouth. I grab the back of her head and hold her against me, meeting her tongue with mine.

When we pull away, she’s breathless, her face flushed and slightly embarrassed. Some of the patrons are watching us, whispering to one another.

“So, how was your day at work?” I ask, curious about whether she’s finished the article for Anarchy Reigns.

“It was work.” She shrugs.

“Just work?” I pry, hoping to get more out of her than just a boring answer you might get from a teenager when asking about school.

“We can’t all be rock stars, Gunn.” She smirks at me over her shoulder before resting her head against mine.

Fuck it.

Looks like I’ll just have to come right out with it. “So…How’s the article going?”

She pops up, turning back to me. “Oh! So that’s what this is about!” She giggles and shakes her head at me. “Uh-uh, nope. I’m not going to tell you. You will just have to buy a copy like everyone else.”

I yank her back into me, caressing my lips against her ear. “Ah, come on, baby. Just a little taste.”

“Nope, not even a lick,” she retorts then clamps her mouth shut.

“Well, at least fucking tell me it doesn’t paint me in a shitty light.”

She doesn’t say anything at first.

“Ok, I will say this…It’s honest.”

Ah, shit. What the fuck does that mean?

“I have ways of making you talk,” I growl into her ear, sliding my free hand down the front of her jeans and cupping it against her pussy.

“Oh, I’m sure you do.” She places her hand on my thigh, squeezing tight when my finger slides between her wet lips. “And I’d love to see what you’ve got,” she challenges me with a moan.

“Fine.” I nip at the lobe of her ear, flicking it with my tongue. “Tonight, I’m going to fuck it out of you. You’ll be begging to tell me when I’m through with your soaked pussy.”

She bites on her lower lip, her eyes closing over as my fingertip lightly strokes her clit.

“Mm. Game on,” she murmurs.

I pull away and she glares back me, causing me to laugh. I like when she pouts or gets mad. It’s a turn-on. I’m going to miss it.

I’m going to miss her.

What if you didn’t have to though? What if…you asked her to come with you? Well, why the fuck can’t I?
That’s it,
I think with concrete resolution.
Tonight, I’m going to ask her to run away with me.

We drive back to her place, her holding my hand resting
between
us. When we park in front of her building, her fingers unlock from mine. I climb out, walk around to her door, and grab her hand, helping her do the same.

“Come on, baby.”

We head up to her apartment, realizing we’re alone after Lace calls out to Gwen and we’re answered with silence.

She releases my hand and walks into the living room, taking off her coat and dumping it, along with the helmet, on the couch. “Want a beer?”

“Sure. I’ll get ‘em.” I comment, walking over to the fridge. “You want one?”

“Yup.”

I open it up and grab two bottles, bringing them over to her on the couch. Slumping back, I sit beside her and hand over a beer.

“Thanks,” she says and then puckers her lips about the rim. Everything she does is a boner inducer.

“No,” I murmur with a skewed grin. “Thank you.”

She warily glimpses out of the corner of her eye, her mouth still wrapped about the bottle.

“Asshole,” she mutters into her beer. I chuckle and shake my head, throwing back a nice swig. “Would you mind if I changed? These jeans are freakin’ tight.”

I nod my head.

She kisses my cheek and leaps up, scooting off to her room. I’m glad she gave me a minute to think. I have to figure out how I’m going to bring this up to her. I can’t just blurt it out like Vegas. It has to be brought up with careful consideration. But first, I’m gonna have to tell her I’m in love with her.

I take another gulp of my beer and notice her laptop is open, sitting right on her desk.

I know the article is due soon, but she refuses to tell me what’s in it, and I want to know before it comes out. I’m not very patient. Living a life of get what I want, when I want, lends to that.

I get off the couch and stroll over to the screen. I’ve never been so fucking nervous about a review, but this is different. I’ve never loved anyone who critiqued my music. Screwed, sure, but not loved.

I set my hands on both sides of the keyboard and lean in, spotting a file in the top left corner of the screen. I scroll the little arrow over it and double-click. The document expands across the monitor, and my eyes scan the lines as if they were thirsty for knowledge, gulping up her words.

What the fuck?

I decide to take a quick shower and get into something sexy, but
not overtly. I grab my old concert tee with the sleeves cut off so it shows major side boob and then a simple pair of white cotton panties. Leaving my hair down in loose, slightly wild waves, and my face make-up free.

We only have another day until he’s gone and I want to make the most of it.

Just as I’m about to leave my room, my phone goes off and I spot a text from my mother. I pick it up and stare at the screen for a moment before hesitantly opening it.

That’s all it says. I know we do, but I’m still really hurt by how she treated Gunnar, and until she apologizes, I refuse to talk about anything.

Sure, Gunn was a bit crass, but he meant well by it. He was protecting me in his own foul-mouthed way.

I shake it off and take a slow breath, walking back out to the living room. When
I
enter,
I spot Gunnar at the desk,
sitting
in front of my laptop. He’s engrossed by something, his eyes darting across the screen.

“What’s so fascinating?” I ask, walking over to him.

He jumps up and glares at me.

“Is this what you think of me? You think I’m some entitled, dried up hack?”

“What are you talking about?”

He looks back at the screen. “Gunnar Haze has the self-obsessed, narcissistic personality of a sociopath. His lack of passion for his craft pales only to his inability to connect with his legion of followers, better known as Anarchists. His music is quite simply uninspiring.”

“Gunnar, that’s not what you think…” I take a step toward him, but he moves back toward the wall.

“I’m glad I found out how you really feel about me.”

“Gunn, it’s not…”

“Save it, Lace,” he interrupts, brushing past me towards the front door. When I attempt to grab his arm, he rips it away, snarling back at me. “Don’t fucking touch me.”

“Gunnar, please stop,” I cry, my sobs burning up my chest, which is tight. I can hardly breathe.

Without looking back at me, he opens the door and utters between clamped teeth, “I can’t believe I love someone who can barely stand the sight of me.”

“Wyatt, please,” I beg weepily, tears dripping down my flush cheeks.

He cringes and walks out, slamming the door behind him. I jump, startled by the aggression of the act.

Did he say…he loves me?