Raw (15 page)

For the second time in a row, I contemplate what the heck I’m doing in my car, just beside the parking lot of Falcon Plastics. Before I can chicken out, I grab my purse and shuffle out of my car, making sure to memorize the reason I’m here. Or, that is, the reason I
say
I’m here.

Checking my wrist watch, the time reads 5:46pm and I wonder if anyone will actually be there. The thought that I’ve missed everyone comes as a great relief.

Yeah, because you
don’t
want to see the gorgeous tattooed hunk who fucks like a pro.

What’s the point in denying I like the guy? What I’m doing here has everything to do with that. I want to start fresh, and I know the only way to do that with someone like Twitch is to make the first move.

Approaching the double doors, I pull and meet resistance. My brain cheers and skips, while smiling big and saying, ‘
Oh well! We tried! Better luck next time!’
.

Standing there a moment, I wonder if I should back down so soon; just when I turn to look around for an intercom, the door opens before me, and a young woman crashes into me. Her body slams into mine and she squeaks, “Oh jeez! I’m so sorry! I didn’t see you there!”

Grabbing hold of her, I smile. “No, you’re fine. I didn’t realize you were closed.”

Pushing her hipster black glasses higher up on her nose, she smooths her dress down. “Oh, we technically are, but the bosses are still up…” When her face lifts to mine, she squeaks again. “Ms. Ballentine! Mr. T asked that you be let through the other day. If I don’t let you in now, he’ll be pissed. I’m kinda in a hurry, but if you give me a sec, I can show you to his office.”

And my day just got interesting. “I’m guessing Mr. T is Twitch?” She nods. “Okay, well I know how to get to his office. I can save you a few minutes by letting myself in?”

Her face relaxes instantly. “You have no idea how great that would be. I’m late picking up my daughter from after-school care and they close at six. I’m already stretching it.” Holding open the door for me, she quickly adds, “The elevator code is 2245. Go on up!”

Smiling at her, I nod and make my way through the now empty building. It’s so quiet here compared to the other day. It’s so eerie, that my body breaks out in goosebumps.

The elevator code works, and before I know it, I’m standing in front of the huge mahogany double doors that lead to the unknown. Raising my fisted hand, I hesitate to knock when I hear a groan and what sounds to be thumping.

My face flames.

Oh shit. He’s getting busy.

Suddenly, my stomach drops. That hurts in such an irrational way that I’m questioning my sanity. What’s worse is that I’m sure he’s doing it with his all-too-perfect bitch of a girlfriend.
 

I know I should walk away, but I…I just can’t.

Placing my hand on the lever handle, I press down as slow as I can and open the door an inch. When I see him, my heart stutters. Watching him through the crack, I smile and chuckle silently.

Well, that could’ve been embarrassing.

His shirtless back to me, I take in the artwork tattooed on him. His back is one big picture. What looks to be an angel – more accurately, a fallen angel – covers the length of him in one of the most realistic tattoos I have ever seen. The angel stands tall and proud in a tattered cloak of black, the wind blowing to one side separating the cloak, revealing a long, slender leg and bare foot. Her long blonde hair flares out to the side, the wind lifting the hood slightly to reveal her face. One side, gorgeous. The other, melted and disfigured.

I don’t understand what it means, but her face is so unashamed and filled with pride that it’s beautiful in a twisted way.

Panting with his back to me, he asks loudly, “You gonna stand there all night, or you gonna come in?”

Busted.

My face flames. Opening the door, I watch as he punches the boxing bag in the middle of his office before answering “Wasn’t sure if I was welcome.”

“You’re not.”

Well…shit.

That’s when he turns and adds with a smirk, “But that doesn’t stop me either.”

Walking over to his desk, he picks up a towel and pats down his face, arms, and heaving chest.

I knew he worked out.

“Like what you see?” Arrogant ass.

My eyes never leaving his body, I swallow hard. “Yeah.” When I see him step towards me, I quickly hold up my hands and step back. “No!” I say this in a way that you would say no to your dog for trying to steal your food. And it shocks Twitch. I know this because his eyebrows rise in disbelief. I’m shocked too. “Don’t. Not tonight. I just came here to say thank you.”

His brow furrows. “For what?”

“For the donation. For the money. I realized I never even said thank you, which was totally rude. My mom would be pissed at me. You have no idea how much we can do with that money. It’s…” I stop a moment, trying desperately to get my emotions under control. I whisper thickly, “It’s a godsend.”

He stops mid-step to watch me closely. His forever-hooded eyes lazily scrutinize me. His eyes narrow dangerously, “Don’t mention it.” Standing by the office door, feeling awkward and vulnerable, I could kiss him when his eyes crinkle in the corners. “I can show you how you can thank me.”

Smiling, I dip my chin. “Not tonight. I’m here purely for professional reasons.”

His brows rise again. “Is that right, Ms. Ballentine?” I nod and take in his muscular body as he seats himself on the edge of his desk.
 

Good lord, this man is a treat! I don’t know if I like him better shirtless or in the damn suit. I can’t decide. He’s lickable both ways.

Crossing his long legs in front of him, he asks curiously, “And what is your purpose here tonight, Alexa?” The way he says my name like that, it’s not just a word or name, it’s a
caress
.

Leaning back into the wall, I state quietly, nervously, “I want to know how you work. How your company works. I want to know what you do here.”

His face turns hard. I have no idea what I’ve said for that to happen, but my palms begin to sweat. Running his tongue over his teeth, he sniffs, then nods to the guest chair beside him. “Sit.”

When I don’t make an effort to move, his eyes find mine and he says more firmly, “Sit, Lexi.”

Taking small steps on shaky legs, making sure I don’t fall, he pushes out the chair with his foot and I sit. Looking up into his soft brown eyes, he watches me, searching my face through narrowed eyes a long while before he states, “The company is a cover.”

My eyes widen as he continues, “Yes, we’re a plastics company. A successful one. Very successful. But there was only one reason a guy like me buys a place like this.” He states quietly, “And I think you know why that would be. You’re a smart girl, Lexi. What do you think we’re making and selling out of here?”

One thing pops into my head immediately, but I push it down trying to ignore the blood roaring in my ears. I think back to the other day when Happy helped me out of my car.

“You’ve been sitting in your car in an industrial area looking like an on-edge crack junkie wanting her next fix for about a half-hour. So either you’re here for drugs, or…”

Drugs. They’re making and selling drugs from the warehouse.

A twisted smile appears on his face. “She knows.”

My stomach drops. Disappointment and regret swirl through my rigid body.

I need to leave. As in, yesterday.

Standing and trying to avoid eye contact, I utter shakily, “It was stupid to come here. I’m sorry for intruding, Twitch. It won’t happen again.”

A hand on my arm halts my exit. “Stop.” And I do, but when he sees my obvious panic, he whispers, “Breathe.”

Sitting back down, I fight the shakes for a full minute before anger flows through my veins. I whisper, “Why would you tell me that? You barely know me.”

He doesn’t answer. When I look up at him, his face conveys his answer. That he knows me better than I think he does. I still can’t believe this. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

His eyes narrow; he searches my face lazily and says bored-like, “I ask myself that question every day of my miserable life.”

I allow his comment to slide off me. Now is not the time for sympathy. Feeling defiant, I state, “I could tell the police.”

Reaching forward, he runs his fingertips down my cheek. Breathing deeply, he replies on an exhale, “You could. But you won’t.” Closing my eyes, I lean into his touch, now trailing my jaw. “You won’t because you know what would happen to you, what happens to a squealer, don’t you, Lexi?”

My body tenses. I pull away from his too-inviting touch. “Is that a threat?”

Shaking his head slowly, his eyes never leave mine when he points out, “No. Just the facts.”

Staring him down, I refrain from telling him I know all about drugs. And none of that information came from being a caseworker, but rather from having to remove needles from my brother’s arm when he was too high to notice he hadn’t done it himself.

But that’s what living in our house did to a person.

My parents were never the type to win the
parents of the year
award. More like the
hooray, your children are still alive
award. Dad was an alcoholic and just plain mean. Mom was good at pretending things were okay while she worked long hours. Overall, I had two parents who weren’t parents at all. My brother found his way to escape the fact that we were never getting out of the hellhole.
 

Thinking about my brother always makes me think of that line from the song Me, You and My Medication by
Boys and Girls
.

“We're all addicted to something that takes away the pain.”

There’s so much truth in that phrase.

My heart aches, suddenly taken back to a time long forgotten, bringing up memories long suppressed.

I’m brought back to reality when Twitch pulls me to stand in front of him. Spreading his legs, he holds my hand tight while I’m guided between them. Looking over me, confusion in his eyes, he states, “Think I’m ready for those lips now.”

His eyes drop down to my parted mouth and I shiver. His arm snakes around my waist, holding me firmly against him. My front pressed into his, my tongue darts out to wet my bottom lip. Wanting that kiss so badly, my voice sounds weak, even to me. “You’re manipulating me.”

Reaching up with his free arm, he fingers a strand of my hair and admits freely, “Yeah.” Leaning forward, his lips brush against mine for the briefest moment before he whispers into my cheek, “You have no idea how big a gift my words are. But you will.”
 

I don’t know what that means. Before I have time to think on it, he orders, “Now, kiss me, Lexi. I won’t ask you again.”

Breathing heavily, I touch the bare skin of his chest. A gentle caress on firm heat. Closing the distance between us, our lips touch and my body jolts. I moan softly, pressing a little firmer until our open mouths brush against each other, breathing each other in. The arm around my waist tightens.
 

His taste. Chocolate and mint. Just…
amazing
.

This taste is now committed to my memory. And one taste is not enough.

My mouth closes over his, placing soft kisses onto his surprisingly passive mouth. His tongue darts out, and for a moment, I forget who I’m with. Playfully pulling away, I smile when he growls, pulling me back into his body.
 

Thwack!

My ass throbs, and his mouth swallows my cry of surprise. No longer passive, his mouth devours mine, hungrily tasting me, coaxing my tongue to play with his.

My already wet core floods.

Reaching up between our bodies to cup his cheeks, he allows this only a moment before he gently removes my hands from him, pushing me away.

The air thick in the office, the only sound is of heavy breathing, Twitch stands suddenly, walking away from me, “I’ll call.”

And just like that, I’m dismissed.

I walk out of Falcon Plastics a little more informed and whole lot more anxious, because truthfully, I have no idea who I’m dealing with.

It’s around seven AM when my phone pings. Barely awake and sipping my coffee, I open it and read: