Return of the Bad Boy (13 page)

E
ric and Tom
stalk around the side of the newly purchased building, looking pissed off. “This rat hole will take forever to fix up,” Tom says sullenly.

“Yeah. Like, how are we supposed to work on that? In our free time?” Eric snorts. “I’m not fucking giving up my one day a week off to come and clean up here.”

Dax punches his little brother’s arm. “God forbid your lazy ass gives up Cheetos and Xbox One Sunday, Turk.”

His brother scowls at him. I’ve been living at their house for the past week, and it’s true. Eric spends most of his free time in the living room, his butt plastered to the couch, drinking beer and eating junk food. The room would be covered with dirty dishes and fast food wrappers if it wasn’t for me and Dax. Tom is different, though. He’ll be the one who helps out the most. But if we have to deal with their murderous glances every time we talk about this place, we’re not going to get far.

Dax must know this, because he rubs the back of his neck nervously, then rolls his eyes to the sky, about half-a-step away from total defeat. It’s just been bitch-bitch-bitch since he told them his offer on this place had gotten accepted. He looks at me and I smile encouragingly.

“Sixty thousand dollars,” Tom mutters to the ground. “If we split it five ways, we would’ve each gotten over ten thousand dollars, dude. I could’ve gotten that Camaro I wanted in Hampton.”

“A fucking Camaro, Spar, really?” Dax snaps. “Why don’t you fix up that heap of shit Charger you just
had
to buy last year?”

Eric says, “You had no right to take that money and—“

“Listen, you two. I had every right,” Dax says pointedly. “I’m twenty-five this week. The trust is in my name. I and I alone got to decide how we spent that money. You’re fucking lucky I didn’t take it and spend it all on a Camaro for myself and tell your sorry, ungrateful asses to fuck off. This is for us to build something for our entire family’s future.”

Eric’s mouth snaps closed. He looks at the building again, narrows his eyes and shakes his head.

Vincent is sitting in the cab of the truck, ear buds stuffed in, listening to music on his phone. We couldn’t even get him to leave the truck. At least the other two got out, if that can be seen as progress. Vincent didn’t even thank Dax for setting aside the money for his college education. Dax said he wants to go the Camaro route, too. He has a new girlfriend he’s trying to impress, so all he’s been doing is making back-handed remarks about how Dax can have me, but god forbid anyone else in the family tries to get some.

Without warning, Dax bangs on the side of the truck. “Wob! Out!” he shouts.

Vincent doesn’t move. He mutters something about sucking his dick.

Dax’s face turns rigid. He stalks around to the side of the truck, pulls open the door, and yanks Vincent out of the car. Vincent, deer-in-headlights, stumbles into the lot, then as he’s trying to straighten, Dax grabs the wires for his ear buds and pulls them out of his ears. The three brothers straighten into military ranks immediately. They know not to mess with their older brother when he’s pissed.

“I don’t give a shit what you three think,” he barks at them, glaring at each one in turn. “This is what’s going to happen. Whatever we have to do, even if it means giving up your fucking blessed Cheeto Sunday for the next few months, we’ll make it work. Got it?”

They all look at each other and then nod.

I grin and reach into the back of the truck, pulling out a broom, mop, and a crate with other cleaning supplies. Dax takes the heavy crate from me and starts to head into the apartment so we can get to work. Now that we’ve closed on the property, Dax and I have every hope of staying in the apartment tonight and making as much noise as we damn well feel like.

Dax suddenly switches direction and comes back up to me. He smacks Vincent on the head as I struggle to bring in another heavy crate of stuff. “
Help her, Fuckface
,” he seethes. “For god’s sake, show that someone raised you right.”

Vincent glares at me as he takes the crate from my hands. The rest of them do the same as they stalk past me.

I whisper to Dax, “I think they think
I
pressured you into this.”

He considers this. “They won’t for long.”

I follow him into the apartment, where he drops everything on the ground, picks up a broom, and bangs it hard on the ground.

“Listen. I made this decision. Alone. And why? The old garage is falling apart. It needs a lot of work. The building needs a new septic system and all the equipment is shit. We could either invest the money in fixing that place up, or we look forward. We move onto bigger things,” he says to them, waving his arms around, his green eyes fierce. “We have to embrace change. This place isn’t just my future. It’s
our
future. Not just Katie’s and mine. Yours, too. Katie is a part of this, like it or not. But if you don’t like it, know that I’m going to make your life a living hell.”

Their gazes all drop to the ground, rather than look at me.

“Got it?” he barks.

They all nod half-heartedly.

As Dax takes his brothers back to the garage to start the workday, I have to grin. I throw my hair into a ponytail and get started. I work like a woman possessed on removing the thick layer of dust from everything, opening the windows and getting the musty smell out, and scrubbing every surface of all the grime. By the time Dax comes back, the sun is starting to set. I smell the pizza the second he opens the door.

“Food!” I scream, lunging at him like a charging bull.

He holds up a six pack. “And beer.”

He looks around the kitchen. Even with all my hard work, it still needs a lot more TLC before its presentable. From the look on his face, I know he’s not thrilled. “It’s slow going, but we’ll get there—I promise.”

He looks down at the floor. He grins appreciatively. “Floors look great.”

He unbuttons and sheds his work shirt, then drops the pizza on the counter and starts to wash his hands at the sink. It’s funny, he’s standing there next to a pizza, and I haven’t eaten all day, and yet what I’m drooling for right now is
him.
I wrap my arms around him from behind and kiss him on one exquisitely sculpted bare shoulder blade. His body is so rigid. “You think your brothers are okay with this?”

He shrugs. “They have to be, right? It’s done. I just have to work twice as hard to make sure it ain’t a mistake.”

I know he will. Without him, Harding’s garage would’ve failed years ago. He took it upon himself to manage the books when it was failing. He was the one who worked extra shifts to keep things afloat. He was the one who paid off the debts his father had accrued. He will break his back to make this work.

I press my cheek against the searing warm skin of his back, then run my hands up his chest, to his tense shoulders. I work my fingers into his muscles, and he stretches his neck and back and groans against me, finally letting out that breath he’s been holding all day. “That’s magic,” he groans.

I coax him to turn around so he’s facing me, and I drop kisses down on his chest, slowly tracing my lips over his nipples and the soft dark hair there. Then, smiling at him, I walk my fingers down to his belt buckle and in one quick motion, pull is belt open. His eyes widen in surprise.

I unzip his fly, shoving down his pants and underwear, finding him hot and hard and ready. I wrap my fingers around him, and his body jolts upright. He lets out an animal growl of desire, his breath ragged.

I sink to my knees on the hard floor.

Then I wrap my hand around his thick shaft, admiring the pink, veined flesh. I hold it in my palm, feeling it grow and spark to life. Ever so slowly, I drag my tongue from the base to the mushroom tip.

“God, Katie, I love your mouth on my cock,” he murmurs, his voice shaky and hoarse.

He puts his hand at the base of my neck and I feel his knees buckle and turn to jelly when I bring the tip to my lips. He tastes of salt and heat and soap, delicious. I open my mouth, pull his body closer to mine and take him totally in my mouth. His whole body shudders. He lets out a groan as I suck deeper, until I feel him almost at the back of my throat. I back away, then slide onto him once more.

He reaches is hand behind my head, pulling the tie out of my ponytail, and runs his hands through my hair. “Fuck.”

I set into a rhythm, backing away to his tip, then descending upon him, taking him whole, almost to the point of gagging. He groans and starts to get into my rhythm, one hand on the back of my head, the other clenching the side of the counter. I glance upward to see his face, but he has it tilted back. All I can see is his Adam’s apple bulging and trembling along with my motions. His fingers against my scalp, he is pulling and pushing on my head gently, encouraging me, and as he lets out a low moan, I know I am doing something right.

His hips tremble slightly as my hand reaches down to cup his balls. They’re tight, swollen. I massage them tenderly, loving the way he feels in my throat as I pump him in and out of my mouth. Loving that I can help him this way, take away all the tension at the end of a long day. This is everything.

“I’m gonna come,” he growls.

And he does. I keep my mouth on him as he spasms, feeling the salty-sweet liquid bursting into my mouth. I swallow all of it hungrily.

“Holy shit,” he murmurs, a satisfied smile on his face as he drags me up to him. “Katy.
Did
.”

He kisses me again, then hoists me up so that my backside is on the kitchen counter. I wrap my legs around him, feeling more, wanting more of him.

“Now it’s my turn. When you come,” he murmurs, “I want you to scream as loud as you want, okay?”

Soon, he’s thrust his wet cock inside my pussy, which is soaked from how turned on I am.

Even after all the sex we’ve been having—and it’s a lot—I haven’t tired of this feeling. It’s even more exciting now that I know we’re real, we’re in love, and it’s not going anywhere.

I feel hot and turned on and taken care of all at once, as his cock slides in and out of me, our hips joined as he fucks me hard and fast, making me come with a scream as I pull him into me and my clit pulsates with orgasmic relief.

I scream as loud as I want to, for the first time ever—knowing he’s mine and this place is ours.

It’s a good thing we don’t have neighbors or else I’m sure they’d think someone was being murdered here.

Afterwards, we lay out our clothes on the clean floor and lie on them, naked, eating cold pizza together by candlelight. It’s romantic.

“Oh! I forgot something,” I tell him, rushing off to get something from the refrigerator. When I return, I’m holding a tiny chocolate cupcake that I got from the supermarket while he was working. I have a candle in it. I start to sing happy birthday, and he’s grinning at me like I’m insane.

“You know my birthday is tomorrow.”

I shrug. “I couldn’t wait.”

He blows out the candle and I feed him the icing on my fingers. He licks it off and we share it. “This is a damn near perfect almost-birthday,” he says.

“The pizza and cupcake?” I ask innocently.

“Everything. The pizza. The place. Your tight little ass on full display for me, and not having to worry someone’ll come in and catch us. I could get used to this,” he says.

I nod, smiling. It’s only been a day, but I
have
gotten used to it. Too used to it. It feels as if I’m putting on blinders, though, ignoring something huge and troubling, just because it’s easier to do than face it.

“But . . .” he says, reading my mind. “It’s your dad, right?”

He’s right. I haven’t spoken to my father since that day. He’s called my cell a thousand times, but I’ve ignored him. I haven’t even gone to the house to see my mom, because dealing with all of it just brings back too much pain.

I’ve been living in this dream world with Dax, pretending that fucked up part of my life doesn’t exist. The truth is, I miss my mom like crazy, and hell, I even miss my dad. I used to call them every week when I was in Boston, just to check in. Now, she’s moving away and I haven’t been there for her the way I need to be. I nod.

“I wanted to cut him off. But I don’t think I can.”

He rubs an absent circle on my knee with the pad of his thumb. “I should probably tell you. I went to see them today.”

I stare at him, aghast, heart pounding. “Wait, what? Why?”

“I knew you said you weren’t ready, but your mom is leaving for Florida in a week. I wanted to tell them you were okay. And I wanted to talk to your dad.”

“Ohhhkay,” I ask, thoroughly confused. “They didn’t chase you out with pitchforks?”

“No. They were nice. We had tea. And a chat.”

I blink again and again to make sure I’m not dreaming. This is definitely Twilight Zone stuff. I can just see my parents and Dax, gathered around the kitchen table, sipping tea from her special dainty china,
chatting
.

Actually, no, I
can’t
see that.

“It went good,” he says, nodding. “We talked about the old times. Like in English class, when I set his Shakespeare collection on fire with my cigarette. Your dad offered up that flowered sofa in the living room for our place. No one bought it at the yard sale.”

“Okay. Awesome,” I say, still not believing what I’m hearing. My dad and Dax, just shooting the shit? My dad giving him a couch as what . . . a peace offering? “So, are they okay?”

He nods. “They miss you, and even with the divorce and all that mess, they don’t hate each other so much as you might expect, Katie. So I invited them to the house this weekend. We’re having a barbeque,” he explains.

“Oh,” I murmur. I’m still having a hard time processing this information. I jolt upright. “Wait. What?”

“You know. Burgers and dogs. Your mom’s bringing her potato salad.”

There’s another thing I really can’t picture. My mom is all scones and pretty tea sets. She won’t hang out in the Harding backyard, where they have an old Studebaker on blocks and I’m pretty sure Vincent’s growing weed. Suddenly I’m a bundle of nerves. “Is his girlfriend going to be there?”

He shakes his head. “Nah, he’s not that stupid, for god’s sake. But it won’t be just us. My friends. My cousins. I invited all of them.”