“He should be,” she whispered with a soft smile. “I have diamond-encrusted heels, and I know how to use them now.”
My next laugh was louder, fuller.
Once we were in the bathroom, I situated the chair in front of one of the sinks and reached for my phone, nodding at the bag in the corner as I did. “Everything’s in there.”
I didn’t realize how quiet and still Sutton had gone until I’d found a picture from before Beck died.
She had set out the contents of the bag on the counter and was trailing the tips of her fingers over them in reverence.
“Did she get the right stuff?”
The corner of her mouth twitched. Her head moved in the faintest nod. “I never thought I’d touch shears again.” Her entire body seemed to cave as she turned to me. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, this isn’t about me. I can’t imagine what it means for you to do this because I can’t imagine a connection like that.”
I caught her chin between my fingers and passed a quick kiss across her lips to stop her rambling.
“I can’t imagine what this will mean for you,” she murmured. “But you don’t know what it means for you to do this for me. For you not to laugh in my face. For you to encourage it instead of destroy it.”
Always.
I’ll always encourage anything you want to do.
I struggled to force away the treacherous thoughts that rose so effortlessly.
Sutton’s eyes danced as she turned to look at the counter. “Even though I probably don’t remember how to do this anymore, let alone hold the shears.” She reached for one and gave me a wry smile. “Diggs should definitely be scared now.”
“He should.” Amusement crept through my tone. “And I’m sure it’ll come back naturally.” Sliding my phone across the counter, I said, “That’s how I used to keep it.”
Her breath caught as she reached for the phone. “Goodness.”
“What?”
“Those dimples.” She shot me a quick look, eyes and smile bright. Cheeks so fucking red. She reached for my face, her fingers trailing through my beard. “I know you have them, I mean . . . they’re impossible to miss, even with all this. But they’re so much more pronounced when your beard is shorter.”
“Yeah.” I cleared my throat. “They’re impossible to hide.”
“Why would you want to?”
They’d made me a target in the mob from day one—because I didn’t look like I belonged. Because I was young and hadn’t grown up in that life. Because I wasn’t hardened from the inside like Beck had been.
I had to work harder and faster, be tougher and stronger, than the rest to prove my worth. To get out from in front of the boss’s crosshairs.
All the while, Beck and Kieran had tried to protect me by keeping me in jobs away from the most danger. They hadn’t realized how much danger doing that put me in.
Beck got to sell on the streets while I was used as a drug-and-weapons runner. While I was forced to figure out how to dress wounds and save the lives of other members who had been shot or stabbed. While I got thrown into a darkened basement in kill-or-be-killed fights if I didn’t save them, or simply because Mickey felt like being a bastard.
I never knew until I made it out if the man I was fighting was some random person they picked up, someone who owed the gang, or a fellow member.
Beck gave me shit when he saw bruises or cuts for taking fighting lessons from someone else.
That was what he and Kieran were told, all they knew, and they were too wrapped up in their jobs to ever think otherwise. To ever suspect that the members who disappeared were anything other than casualties of our life.
And our boss had loved every second. Loved that he had held my life in his hands for years until the day came when I could’ve easily ended his. All because he’d picked up two kids.
One who was angry and hardened from the inside out, as if he’d been born for the mob. Another who was tall and lanky as fuck, with dimples taking up most his face.
“They don’t fit,” I said simply.
“What, with your tattoos and your massive size?” she teased. She ran a finger down my cheek, tracing where it would be if I had been smiling. “I think they fit you perfectly. You’re still plenty scary, trust me.”
“Scary enough to have Prince Charming’s smile?”
Sutton’s eyes widened, and a grin tugged at her perfect lips. “How did you know about that?”
“Lexi told me.”
She hummed a small noise. “She said that the morning you broke into the motel room. You hadn’t even smiled yet.” After lifting onto her toes to press her mouth to mine in a swift kiss, she dropped down and turned to the counter. “And then I saw you smile.”
I studied the way she pulled her bottom lip between her teeth.
“Prince Charming?”
“Oh yeah.” She flicked her eyes in my direction. “Wrapped up in a terrifying, terrifying man.”
I spun her and tugged her against me before slowly lifting her onto the counter. “So, it’s just the smile then?”
The words were all tease and dripped with need.
The space between us came alive.
Her chest lifted and fell in exaggerated movements as her head slowly shook.
Her legs curled around my hips.
Her hands pushed under my shirt, lifting as she felt every defined ridge.
“It’s everything,” she said breathlessly. “It’s the way you look at me. It’s the way you aren’t afraid to put me in my place. It’s the way you talk to my daughter, and the way she adores you. It’s this feeling like I’ll never get enough of you.”
Her hands trailed back down, one of them toying with the top of my pants before she was curling the other around my neck and kissing me. Teasing me with her tongue in a way that about drove me insane.
When she spoke, each word had her lips brushing against mine. “And every part of you is so utterly beautiful it takes my breath away. The good, the terrifying, your heart—”
I captured her mouth, swallowing her words and her moan as I dipped my hand inside her tiny shorts.
A growl rumbled in my chest when I found her already wet for me.
The instant my fingers brushed over her clit, she trembled.
I bit down on that full lip she loved to torment me with so much as I pushed two fingers into her deeply.
Her responding gasp washed through me, making my blood heat.
Every beat of my pounding heart was roaring its claim.
Mine, mine, mine.
I brushed my thumb over the lip I’d just bit at the same moment I put pressure against her clit. My mouth tugging into a grin when my name raked up her throat.
Seconds.
It’d been seconds, and she was already quivering.
Already clenching tight around my fingers.
Already arching from the counter and sucking in uneven breaths.
I pressed my forehead to hers and demanded in a low tone, “Open your eyes.”
Her response was instant. Heavy-lidded and filled with lust and locked onto mine.
“Let go.”
“Conor, please.”
My lips twisted into a smile, and I leaned forward so they were a breath from hers. “Let go,” I whispered again and curled my fingers inside her.
She shattered.
Crying out and shuddering against me as I pushed her higher, never once letting up until her body sagged against the mirror.
I pulled my fingers out slowly, relishing in the way she jerked against me when I brushed against her sensitive clit again and again before removing my hand.
She reached for me, using my shirt to pull me closer, and then her mouth was on my neck and she was reaching for my pants.
I gripped her wrists, stopping her when it was the last fucking thing I wanted to do.
I wanted to rip off her shorts and fuck her until she screamed my name . . . but I would want more and more and more.
I waited u
ntil she looked at me, an unspoken question lingering in her eyes, before I said, “If I have you again, I won’t be able to let you go. Think about what that means for you and Lexi. What it means for me.”
Instead of the fear or hesitation or uncertainty I expected, there was only longing.
And it made this so much harder.
I gripped her tighter and tried to remember what I was saying. Why I was saying it. Why I wasn’t picking her up and taking her to the bed.
“Think,” I pleaded through clenched teeth. “And after you do, know that the next time I fuck you, I’m not letting you sleep until you’re spent. Trembling. Aching. Throat raw from screaming my name.”
“Oh God.” Her body shook and cheeks filled with heat, but those eyes . . . they still churned with want and need.
I buried my face against her neck, breathing her in and telling myself this was right.
Pretending I hadn’t said the next time as though we both already knew it was inevitable.
Pressing my lips to her soft skin, I whispered, “Think.”
I helped her from the counter and held her in my arms for a while before releasing her and stepping back.
I was about to tell her we didn’t have to continue with our original plans when she bent to pick up something off the floor.
My phone.
I hadn’t even heard it get knocked off the counter.
She held it out, her head tilted back to study me. “Is this Beck?”
The pain was there, but I felt the smile that stretched across my face as I looked at the picture now showing on my phone.
He was sitting next to Lily, busting up laughing.
“Yeah. Yeah, that is.” I gestured to the picture. “That was his best friend, Lily, the girl I was charged with protecting for those years.”
Surprise coated Sutton’s expression when she glanced at me. “Kieran’s ex?” When I nodded, she went back to looking at the picture. “I can’t . . . Jess looks made for him. I can’t see this girl with someone like Kieran. Or any of you, really.”
A sharp laugh forced from my lungs. “Don’t underestimate her, she’s tough. Lily was the princess of the mob. She went from dating an assassin to dating the rival boss. Twice, she faced the guy who almost killed me and came out alive.”
That got me her undivided attention. From the alarm seeping from her, I knew Johnny wasn’t something I had told her about yet.
“Someone almost killed you?”
I couldn’t count the number of times I’d fought for my life because of Mickey or the mob in general. Yet, out of them all, Johnny was the only one who nearly succeeded.
I shrugged and offered her a smile. “He didn’t.”
Her eyelids fluttered shut as she released a slow breath.
After a moment, she nodded and looked at the picture again. “I can see the resemblance in you and Beck, but I think you’re right. It’s mostly the hair. You look so different when it’s short.”
“Different how?”
Sutton fought a smile and failed, forcing one from me. “It’s you. It’s so obviously you. But the length in this,” she said, tugging at my beard, “changes everything. Two completely different men.”
“And which guy do you prefer?”
She pulled her bottom lip between her teeth as she tugged me toward her.
Before our mouths touched, she asked, “Am I allowed to say both?”
I kissed her slowly, thoroughly, until she was relaxing into me and sighing against the kiss. “That doesn’t help us now.”
When she leaned away, that full, bottom lip was between her teeth again.
I pulled it out and smoothed it over with my thumb. “Drives me crazy when you do that.”
The words were low and husky, and the way she responded to them and my touch didn’t help remind me why we were in here instead of the bedroom.
Her tongue darted out to wet her lip, barely touching the tip of my thumb and forcing a groan from me. “Fuck, Sutton.”
I gripped the counter behind her so I wouldn’t pull her closer. Wouldn’t turn her around and bend her over. Wouldn’t do any number of the stupid things filling my head.
I managed to push myself away and took a few steps back, putting distance between us that felt necessary and useless.
Her head bounced in a faint nod. “Um, both. Really . . . both.” She tried to smile, but it didn’t reach her eyes like it had before. “And even if I cut it, I could always ask you to grow it out again for me.”
She realized what she said a few seconds later, what her words implied. Her stare fell to the floor, but not before I caught the deep sadness pulsing through her eyes.
Dangerous.
All of this.
After clearing her throat, she glanced up. “Can I wash your hair?”
A weighted breath escaped me at the question that didn’t fit with the tension filling the large bathroom.
Nothing we’d planned to do or had talked about seemed important anymore. Because we had an expiration date.
One I thought we could outlive.
One we both obviously wanted to.
One that was staring us in the face, mocking us for thinking we could survive it.
“Yeah,” I said softly. “Tell me what to do.”
She nodded to the chair behind me, which was still in front of the sink. “Just sit.”
I did as she said, turning the chair to sit in it sideways so I could lean my head back.
Sutton moved around the bathroom for a minute, gathering towels and shampoo before coming over to turn on the water.
Once it was the temperature she wanted it, she wrapped a towel around my shoulders and placed another rolled-up one behind my neck.
She looked calm in a way I hadn’t seen her before as she bent over to wet my hair and wash it. Dragging her fingers through and massaging, releasing every tension and worry and frustration that had been building over the past weeks.
If I hadn’t been so focused on her face, her hands would’ve put me to sleep.
By the time she was towel-drying my hair, she was smiling. Soft and free.
She grabbed my phone and brought it back to me. “Could I see that picture of you one more time?”
I turned the chair so I was facing the counter and pulled up the picture she asked for. But when she placed the phone down again, the picture of Beck and Lily was filling the screen.
Through the reflection, I watched as she slowly ran her fingers through my hair, playing with it for a few seconds before grabbing one of the combs and shears.
I gripped her wrist, halting her movement, and waited until her eyes met mine in the mirror. “Thank you.”
Her body relaxed and that sadness crept back into her eyes as she nodded. “No matter what your hair looked like, you and Beck would always look different.”
My stare drifted to the phone.
I wanted to turn it off.
But I had a feeling she’d left it up there for me, and I didn’t want to tarnish the gesture that was supposed to be thoughtful.
“Yeah, we aren’t identical.”
“No.” A frown briefly pulled at her lips before she shook it off. “He looks sad in that picture.”
“He’s laughing.”
Her eyes briefly met mine in the mirror, and that one look told me she was afraid she was saying the wrong thing.
That she was afraid she’d hurt me.
But she still whispered, “His eyes look sad.”
Lexi must have gotten her intuition from her mom—with her comments about smiles and seeing them without them being there—because what Sutton saw wasn’t in that picture, except it had been there.
Present. Every day. Our heavy life weighing Beck down, slowly defeating him.
Beck was happiest with Lily. But even at his happiest, even laughing with her, that darkness had remained around him, pressing down on him.
“Endlessly,” I said. “That’s a hard life, and Beck had a lot more put on him than
I did. Working with the enemy to take down our boss. Trying to protect me even though he knew he couldn’t. Seeing the girl he loved every day for a decade and knowing she hated him because of what he did.”
A pained sound crept up Sutton’s throat. “That is sad.”
“It’s Jess . . . the girl.”
She paused with her hands in my hair, her eyes wide. “Kieran’s Jess?”
“Yeah. It’s a long story.”
Her brows lifted. “We have time.”
“Why don’t you tell me one?”
Shock blasted from her, and for a second, she just stood there. “I don’t have any that are happy really.”
My laugh was hard and sharp. “And mine are?”
“They’re exciting.” She shrugged. “It all sounds so unreal, like a movie. And you have a family of people who love you and who seem to have fun, even in the worst situations. Mine are all stories of avoiding my mother and Zachary and trying to have Lexi anywhere but at the house with him.”
“Your mom is pretty fucking bad.”
Sutton gave me a look saying I didn’t know the half of it. “Tell me something.”
Every story I could think of involved someone dying.
When there weren’t rivalries or people being taken, we lived normal lives. But, then again, Sutton hadn’t had a normal life either. “I’ll give you a story if you tell me something from your life. Anything.”
A laugh tumbled from her lips, like she couldn’t understand anything I would want to know. “All right.”
“Diggs is a bloodhound. He can smell and track things that people shouldn’t be able to. There’s a war between him and Einstein that’s been going on since long before I knew them, and it revolves around scones.”
“Scones,” Sutton repeated in a dull tone.
“Mini blueberry ones, Einstein’s favorite. They get stashed in our office so Diggs can’t find them. One day, he found out she kept them there and came rushing in when we were having a meeting. He tried to grab the box and ended up slamming into Einstein’s desk, knocking it over. Shattered three computers that had unsaved data on the case we’d been working on.”
“No.” Sutton’s mouth was wide with shock. “Over scones?”
Limit (Rebel Book 3) Page 23
