No Saint (Wild Men, #6)

by Jo Raven

  While I’m lost in my confused thoughts, her breathing changes and she stirs.

  “Mmm... Morning. Ross.” She tries to roll over, and I gather her closer, her back to my stomach, her lush ass, fuck... pressed to my morning wood.

  “Morning.”

  She’s so damn cute when she’s half asleep. And sexy.

  Shocker. Everything she does is sexy. Yawning. Talking. Walking. Hell, cussing me out is sexy.

  I’m so fucked.

  She wiggles, that ass rubbing against my hard-on, and I kiss her neck with a muffled groan. I want her now, and that’s what the strange feeling has to be all about. Want. Physical need. It sure as hell is driving my hips forward now, to rock against her soft curves, the urge to bury myself inside her taking up my entire thought process.

  Until she wiggles again and tries to sit up. She’s trying to get away, and I’m not having any of it, not without negotiations—and maybe some bribery. I kiss her neck again.

  “Stay...” I whisper in the perfect shell of her ear where a silver stud glints. “It’s still early. We have time.”

  She turns her face and her mouth finds mine. We kiss and that feeling grows, uncomfortable, burning, robbing me of speech and breath.

  Mine.

  I need her.

  I cup her breast, play with her nipple as I lick at her mouth, and she moans, arching up a little, my cock sliding between her ass cheeks. She gasps, and I grunt, the pressure squeezing my dick so fucking good.

  I drop my hand from her nipple to the soft curls between her legs, dip a finger inside her, and a whine leaves her lips as she presses back harder against me.

  Someday I wanna tap that ass. But right now, what I want is her pussy, so wet for me, so hot. Reluctantly, I draw my finger out, then reach down to grab my dick.

  “Lu...” Her leg lifts up instinctively when I nudge between her legs and fuck, she’s exposed, my dick slipping into her, just a little, just the head, but it’s so good.

  Off the charts good, and we’re both moaning and rocking as I slip inside deeper, her pussy gripping my dick in a vise.

  Oh shit, yeah. Drawing her leg higher, to rest over mine, I thrust, again and again, growling my pleasure, my relief at being inside her again, at having my arms around her, bare skin touching, sliding, at hearing her voice.

  Being at home.

  Huh. A seriously fucking strange thought when I don’t know what home is, and when she’s clenching so hard around my dick I’m seeing stars. Maybe that explains it. Lack of oxygen to the brain.

  The pressure in my balls is quickly reaching critical status, my hips rolling and rocking into her frantically. Slipping my hand between her legs again I rub at her clit, her slick seam, lower, where my cock fills her pussy, stretching her so perfectly.

  Oh fuck, I’m gonna come.

  Burying my cock as deep as I can in her tight heat, I fuck her. My thrusts are now fast and deep, driving in and out of her, a race to the end, my hand still rubbing at her little hard clit. She’s moaning, rocking with me, her mouth seeking mine.

  “Come with me, Lu,” I breathe against her lips, “come with me...”

  Be with me, bear with me, hold me, let me feel your pleasure.

  And she comes. I kiss her as orgasm hits her, drinking in her cries, muffling one of my own as my body tenses and coils. I barely have time to pull out of her when my dick jerks and pleasure slams into me, short-circuiting my brain. I ride the waves of my release, painting her back with my cum, holding on to her like a drowning man.

  My girl, my girl...

  Sunlight is falling on her hair like gold dust, outlining her curves, showing me her long lashes, a dark nipple, the drenched curls between her legs, and my chest tightens—that same damn feeling I don’t understand. She’s sexy, yeah, but I’ve been with many girls and never felt as if I’ve been whacked over the head just by lying there with her.

  Can’t be anything good.

  Nothing good ever came from feeling so much. From smiling so much. If there’s one thing life has taught me it’s that the higher you fly, the harder the fall will be...

  ***

  “I’m sticky,” she complains, getting up and padding across the bedroom, bending from time to time to gather her panties, her blouse, her short skirt, giving me a great view of that ass... “I have to go.”

  That strips the grin from my face. “Why?”

  “I need to go home, shower, change, reassure Dad that I’m okay, then go to work.”

  Work, fuck. Me too. Kinda forgot it’s not Sunday today, forgot all about the world outside. This girl’s dangerous. When she’s here, it’s hard to remember that life goes on outside of this unexpected bubble.

  I lift myself up on my elbows, following her with my gaze as she starts putting her clothes on. Damn, covering that hot body is a shame but I swallow down my comment. She won’t meet my eyes. There’s distance between us now—her life, her family, her work, her home.

  She may feel like home to me but she has hers already. Doesn’t need one in me.

  As if I’d be fit for such a thing. To offer anyone stability, warmth, a center to come back to at night. Isn’t that what home is? That’s not me. Fuck, I’m not even sure I’d know a home if it bit me in the ass.

  She gives me a little wave and turns to go, and I’m out of the bed in a heartbeat. “Wait!”

  “What is it?” She turns a smile my way.

  “I...” I cast about for something to say. “Stay away from Jenner. He’s a weirdo and an asshole.”

  She snickers. “Funny, coming from you.”

  “What?”

  “It’s like the pot calling the kettle black. Look, Ross—”

  “No.” I cage her against the wall, put a finger over her lips. I don’t want to hear her say that this, what we did, was a mistake—or that I’m anything like that bastard, Jenner, even if I am. “Listen, he’s a weirdo, okay? And you’re always safe with me, I swear to God. If anyone bothers you, just call me and I’ll be there.”

  I expect her to push me away, rib me, laugh in my face. The guy who bullied her once, now offering advice on assholes and how to avoid them, offering his protection services.

  But she doesn’t do any of that. She looks up at me from under her dark lashes. “I know,” she whispers. “I know you’d come.”

  It thaws a cold spot in me. “Gimme your phone.”

  “Hey wait—”

  I reach down, pull it out of her back pocket and wave it in her face. “Unlock it.”

  “Ross...” She huffs in mock annoyance, but her mouth tips into a smile. She gives me a quizzical look as she does as I asked and hands the phone to me. “You should learn to ask more nicely.”

  “Then teach me,” I growl, focused on the task at hand—one hand on her neck, my body pressing her into the wall, and damn if I’m not getting hard again—and the other adding my contact info to her list and sending myself a text message so I can add her number, too. “Done. Here you go.”

  She receives the phone and scrolls through her contacts, a tiny frown between her brows. I know the moment she sees it because said brows go up and she giggles. “Ross The Original Hottie?”

  I shrug and lean in, grinning ferally at her. “That’s me, baby. Any questions?”

  Her eyes are sparkling, her cheeks are flushed and she’s like a drug, intoxicating, flooding my senses.

  If there were any questions, they’re lost in a fuck-hot kiss with teeth and tongue and everything I got put into it. We break away after a long moment, breathing hard, grinning.

  “See you later,” she says as she goes, the distance between us bridged, and this time as I watch her skip away from the house, vanishing among the trees, I’m smiling.

  ***

  The stupid grin is still fixed on my face as I trudge to work. The new construction site is out of town, a new motel in the works, so I take the bus and don’t even give a shit when an old lady with a lapdog sits beside me and the rabid animal pisses on my boot
.

  Damn dog is lucky I got laid and I’m in a good mood. His stiff ears and mangy coat remind me of Buddy. I remember Luna saying something about him helping her find me yesterday—shit, was it only yesterday that I saw my life flashing before my eyes? Making a mental note to buy him some doggy food, I lean back and watch the houses and trees roll by.

  My arm aches, the shoulder socket and my wrist pretty damn sore, reminders of my adventure—and still, I can’t wipe the stupid smile off my face, even when I hop off the bus and walk into the construction site, seeing Superintendent Asshole Hudson heading my way like a storm cloud.

  Fucking joy.

  Bracing myself, keeping the damn smile pasted on, I slow down and wait for him to start.

  “Decided to be on time for a change?” he grouses and I almost laugh at the lame line. “Get to work.”

  “Yes, boss.”

  “And no cigarette breaks. I got my eye on you, boy. Any day, any hour or minute you slack off, will be cut from your paycheck, hear me?”

  “Loud and clear.” Keeping a straight face is hard, harder than I thought, when he’s been on my case since always and my temper is on a hair-trigger every time he talks down to me like that.

  Not today, though, and I get to work, shaking my head at myself and the mood I’m in. My thoughts are jumping all over the place, my mind helpfully flashing images from last night and this morning—Luna’s naked body, her tits, her mouth, her moans echoing in my ears—and I almost manage to brain myself with a pile of bricks falling right at me, before I even managed to put on my helmet.

  The guy standing on the floor above, Darryl, waves cheekily down at me.

  Motherfucker. I give him the finger and turn away, ramming the helmet onto my head.

  Real clever, Ross. Yesterday you almost splattered yourself all over the garage yard, and now you almost lost your head.

  Right when you’ve found something to live for.

  The thought leaves me floundering, standing still as other workers pass me by, carrying heavy sacks of concrete and cussing each other out. Where did this come from anyway? I know better than to get my hopes up. Than to hope in anything, period. Or anyone.

  Nothing has changed, I tell myself firmly. Sex with a pretty girl, no matter how hot, no matter that she saved your life... isn’t a promise for anything more. You saw how she all but ran out this morning.

  Yeah, yeah. Right.

  At least work manages to get my mind off her for a little while—a good thing, too, as more debris falls every time I walk by, and once I slip and almost faceplant when I step on a bunch of loose steel rods. Thinking of her is dangerous already—doing it while working is a death sentence.

  The moment I clock out, though, all bets are off, and I catch myself thinking about tonight, daydreaming, wondering if she’ll come over. If I should buy something for... for dinner. And drinks. Does she drink? At her age—and all the way to now, honestly—I was drunk all the goddamn time. I was taken in for drunk and disorderly fuck knows how many times.

  But she’s not me. She’s nothing like me.

  Remember that, Ross. Despite everything, she knows where she’s going, unlike you. Maybe you should take notes.

  “Whassup, loser?” one of the guys calls out to me, and I frown. Alan. He’s one of the assholes who beat me up the other day. Way to ruin my pleasant thoughts.

  “Why don’t you just fuck off.”

  “How about you say hi to my fist, huh?”

  “How about you say hi to mine, assface?”

  Suddenly I’m surrounded by the usual troupe of clowns, and my hackles are up and bristling. Letting my ratty backpack drop, I raise my fists.

  It gets me some raised brows and smirks.

  Motherfucking assholes. Between them and the troupe in town—Ed and his pals—I wouldn’t know which ones to throw down harder.

  “Why don’t you lie back and enjoy this,” another snickers. “We know what you like.”

  “Cunt,” another one supplies.

  Oh how clever.

  They’re all big guys, strong, shaped by our line of work and stupid fist fights, though I know for a fact they also lift weights to impress chicks.

  But I’m just as big as they are. I may not have huge bulging muscles like the Hulk, but I’m damn strong. I had to be, growing up and surviving to today.

  “Just give in, Ross,” Alan sneers. “Give up. You can’t take us all on.”

  “Give in. Let go. Why don’t you die already?”

  But the voices in my head hold less sway today. Maybe it’s the night I spent with my girl, maybe it was defying death yesterday, but I grin savagely at them and lift my chin in invitation.

  “Bring it on, asswipe.” I shake my fist at him, still grinning like a skull. “We’ll see what happens.”

  And I do take them on. They fall on me like vultures, but hey, look at that, I’m fighting back. They sure didn’t expect that, and I’m felling them like trees.

  They forgot I know how to hold my own in the fight. It hasn’t been all that long since I gave up, fuckers. And now I’m back and they have no clue what to do with me. Yeah, I don’t roll over and let them kick me senseless anymore.

  I dish out punches and kicks until the chorus of moans and curses fills my ears, louder than the pounding of my heart. I dodge and spin and hit right and left until my vision is edged with black, the still aching slashes under my ribs burning, my wrenched right arm heavy and painful. But adrenaline is a great thing, and it muffles the pain, filling me with energy.

  Alan is taking this very personally, judging from the amount of profanity spewing from him.

  “Kiss your momma with that mouth?” I kick him, taking his feet from under him and have the satisfaction of seeing him landing on his face. “Better go wash it before you head home to have your diaper changed.”

  It’s not an easy victory. It’s five of them, and just one of me. There’s always been just one of me, a one-man front, nobody behind me, nobody ever having my back. Same old, and I’m moving faster now, getting my second wind, using my whole body behind my punches, hitting them hard...

  And it’s over. This round goes to Ross Jones, Asshole Champion of Himself and Doomed to be Alone Forever.

  ... or maybe not anymore? This sure feels like hope, and it looks like I’m still due to crash and burn before this is all over.

  ***

  I should head to the garage, finish working on that piece of junk I promised to fix. Fuck knows I need the extra cash and though the garage is officially locked down, I take the occasional job fixing cars on the side.

  The bus drops me off not far and I wander down the main street. In my pocket, I have the antibiotics Luna gave me and I fish them out, decide to continue taking them. To cure myself, get rid of that low-level fever, get better.

  I stop when I catch sight of the rusty building, a shiver running down my spine. I remember the roof, the feeling of falling into the void.

  Wincing, I turn away and take out a smoke, light up. Yeah, I will take the pills, show her that I will be here when she comes back to see me, conscious and not hovering anywhere near death, not this time. I’m no fucking coward. I can take what life dishes out. Convince her that I really slipped yesterday and wasn’t gonna off myself.

  Luna has to be working, and I wanna go see her right away—then remember Jenner and my fists itch to get some more workout even as new bruises are making themselves known as muscles cool down and the adrenaline ebbs.

  The diner isn’t far, and my steps turn automatically. I stop outside the window and look inside. No Jenner today. I don’t see Luna either, and I rub the back of my neck, wondering if I should go in or go home.

  Taking out my phone, I shoot her off a text. ‘Wanna hang out tonight?’

  Her answer comes quickly. ‘Your place?’

  My place.

  I guess it is, at that. ‘Yeah.’

  The reply doesn’t come right away and I find myself sweating. Fuck, this girl. I’m
pussy-whipped, it’s official.

  Then, ‘Be there in two hours,’ and the hammering in my chest goes down a notch.

  ‘See ya,’ I send back and set off toward the house, my steps lighter.

  In my head, calculations are running as I lope down the street leading out of town. I hate that place, that house, my place, and the memories it harbors. The nightmares it throws at me, mixed with the memories from prison and that...that dark place my mind doesn’t want to let me remember. What was that...? A bed, faces, voices...

  But as I see the house from a distance, looking so fucking innocent and normal, I wonder if I could clean it up. Fix it. Make it habitable again. Pay the bills, have the water and electricity turned back on.

  So she can hang out with me there. Sleep with me. Let me sink inside her again and again. Kiss her.

  I need to buy condoms. And cleaning products. And some food. In that order. Priorities. Being inside her again is all I can think about. Kissing her mouth, her skin, licking, sucking, fucking her.

  Holding her...

  I blink, that last thought throwing me off. Those strange little thoughts keep sneaking up on me, veering off lust into uncharted territory. I don’t know what to do with them. They fuck with my mind.

  And they just won’t go away...

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Luna

  “What’s that smile for?” Dena prods. “Ross, am I right? That text was from him. He just said something nice to you.”

  “None of your business,” I mutter absently.

  “Hotties are my business, hon,” she fires back, undaunted in the face of my dismissal. “Not much else to do around these parts. Not many to choose from, either. This is my hobby!”

  I swallow a snort.

  “I was right, wasn’t I? It was from him. That dreamy smile is exactly how I look when he talks to me.”

  “How would you know how you look when he talks to you?”

  “Psht, that’s beside the point. I have plenty of imagination.”

  She makes no sense, and it doesn’t matter. Will Dad believe me if I say I’m staying with Dena again?

  Why am I so worried? I’m an adult now, I don’t need his permission. But I only just came back and I’d hate to argue with him. Josh already thinks I’m not interested in spending time with him, and that I’m fonder of my ex-bully than my little brother.