by Misti Murphy
“Jesus.” Tom jumps out of his seat. “Careful of my floorboards, dickhead.”
The quick flash of worry that crosses Razer’s face makes me wonder if he’s scared of Mace. I wouldn’t have thought so, but he just stands there with his feet planted apart and his hands behind his back while Mace continues his rant. “What did you say his name was? Haley, Hedley?”
“Henley.” Razer offers, understanding dawning in his gaze. He crosses the room to check out the email I’ve left open on my computer.
“Prick tease, huh?” He rests a hand on my shoulder, his fingers rubbing at the knots of tension there. I remember him calling me that in frustration not too long ago, but not with the misguided derision Henley’s put into it. “Do you think he’s dangerous?”
“I think he’s deluded,” I say. “But dangerous? Not really. To be honest, I may not have told him it was over. I just ran when I found him with wannabe Pamela.”
“It should have been clear anyway,” Razer says.
“I’ll make it fucking clear,” Mace snarls. “Give me his address and I’ll go snipe the bastard, since neither of these assholes can get out of their own way.”
“Oh shut up, dickhead. Don’t you think we offered to deal with him?” Tom slumps back in his chair with his legs stretched out in front of him.
“It’s really no big deal.” I jump off the couch and take Mace’s hands, still clenched in fists. “Please, I want to just let it go. I’ll email him back and make sure he gets the picture, but that’s all. I can take care of myself, remember? You guys made sure of that.”
He visibly unwinds, the tension seeping off him. “Promise you’ll tell me if he keeps this shit up. I don’t like it. I’ve seen…” he shakes his head. “Things like this can escalate quickly.”
“I promise. But honestly, there’s nothing here to worry about.”
Razer clears his throat behind us. “Maybe one of us should take her to Tom’s Gym tomorrow for a refresher.”
“Since you’re volunteering,” I say, glancing at him, and trying to stifle the play of a smile over my lips at the idea of getting sweaty with Razer in any way I can.
“Come in the morning. I’ll keep the ring free for you.” Tom nods, getting up and stalking toward the kitchen. “I’m ordering pizza.”
“Don’t get pineapple. You know I hate that shit.” Mace skulks over to the recliner and switches on the TV, kicking his feet up when he finds a sport to watch.
I settle on the couch again and type out an email to Henley. One that explains in blunt detail that I’m not going back to him. That I’ve gone through the contracts his producers had me sign, and I’ve contacted my lawyer. Then I give him my lawyer’s email and ask him to contact me through him so I don’t have to deal with his pathetic attempts to make me change my mind. Razer sits beside me, his attention on the TV, though his fingers constantly tickle the outside of my leg while I email back and forth with Olivia. I think he’s as worried as Mace is about Henley, but doesn’t want to scare me. Not that I agree with them, but then again, I’d once liked the man and now he’s turning into this sleazy stalker type. So I’ll keep my promise to Mace. Another email from Henley, and I’ll tell them exactly where to find him.
The boys get sucked into their sports, each of them taking turns at yelling and cursing at the TV while we munch on pizza. This is the first time we’ve all been together, relaxing like we used to do before we all went our separate ways. I snuggle into Tom when they decide to watch a movie and wonder why I ever thought life would be better away from them. The only thing that could make this perfect is if Rush came home, too. But Rush isn’t going to come home. He can barely manage Christmas Day with me and Tom in the city, let alone small town life. Slipping my hand into Razer’s, I rest my head on Tom’s shoulder. I don’t want to go back to being someone I’m not anymore, if I ever was at all.
***
Razer slips into my room and locks the door as I’m getting ready for bed. “Are you going to admit that’s my shirt?”
“This thing?” I stretch it over my head, skim my hands down to my waist. “I told you it’s second hand.”
“You told me,” he says gruffly, nodding as he strides over and puts his palm out in front of me. “I’d like it back now.”
“Not going to happen.” I cross my arms and stare up at him, daring him to try and take it. Today has been perfect, and I don’t want it to end. I’m not ready to give him the opportunity to slip away.
“It’s coming off, Claire. Even if I have to strip you out of it myself.” He fingers the hem. “So you may as well comply.”
“In your dreams.” I turn my back to him and lean over the bed to push down the covers.
He grasps my hips, pushing his hardness against my panties. “A million times in my dreams. Now be a good girl and take off the damn shirt, or I’ll take it myself. Either way, sugar. It’s up to you.”
The sweet pressure of him rubbing against me has me so turned on I press into him. I want him more each time we do this. Is that even possible? To want something so badly my whole body aches at the slightest tease. “I’m not giving it to you.”
He lets out this guttural roar, which makes me wonder how much he’s holding back to keep this secret of ours, and lets go of my hips to clench the neck of the shirt with his fists, tearing it straight down the back. My whole body stretches with the surge of need his primality unleashes in me. But I’m pissed, too. For seven long years this shirt was all I’ve had of him. It’s the only thing I know I will walk away with when he leaves. Now it’s just rags. Anger needles behind my eyes and along my clenched jaw as I wheel on him, pushing at his chest. “I can’t believe you did that to my shirt.”
He gathers me up, ignoring my hands banging against his chest while he leaves a trail with his mouth to the side of my neck. “I want to have my mouth on you, sugar, my hands on every part of you with nothing between us.”
“You don’t understand.” Even as I say it, I melt under caresses that set me ablaze with desire. “It was important to me.”
“For all the wrong reasons.” He takes my mouth, demands my capitulation, leaving me panting and trying to hold onto my reasons for being angry. But he’s licking, and then sucking at my nipples, and it’s damn near impossible to think straight anymore while my whole body arches into his mouth.
Palming my belly, he slides his fingers into the waist of my panties and swirls a digit through my wetness to stroke my clit until I’m whimpering. “Raze, I need you inside of me.”
“Get on the bed,” he turns me and nudges me toward the edge of the mattress, lifting me up onto the sheets. “Get on your hands and knees.”
Presenting myself to him, I stare at him over my shoulder. A feral growl rolls from his throat as he rips down my panties and skims my pussy with his fingers. “Fuck. You’re perfect.”
He pushes one digit into me and it’s enough to have my knees trembling, my pelvis rolling, desperate for more. “Please, Raze. I need you inside me. I want you to make me cum.”
He undoes the string on his pants, never taking his gaze from me while he shoves them off and picks up a condom from the nightstand. Each move he makes is graceful, slow, designed to make me crave him that much harder. He tears the packet open. Takes the condom out and strokes his erection. I can’t stand it any longer, and I reach between my legs to stroke my clit while he rolls the rubber over his cock.
Then he steps between my legs, clamps his hands to my hips and enters me in one smooth stroke, filling me the way I need to be. I cum then, clenching around him as the sweet heady sensation engulfs me. He doesn’t let me go, moving in and out, his hips knocking against my ass while he caresses my insides in a way that has me molten and panting all over again. And when I start climaxing a second time, he pulls me flush to his chest, his palm over my mouth as he cums hard inside of me.
***
When I wake, Razer’s gone, but on the pillow beside me he’s left me the shirt he was wearing last night
, with a single daisy and a note, Come find me when you’re ready.
I take my time, lingering in the steam of the shower, replaying the last twenty-four hours, before I get dressed and head into the kitchen to have my coffee while I check my email. There are no new messages from Henley, so hopefully he got the point, and the boys can let it go. Olivia on the other hand is clogging up my inbox and my cell with her emails and messages, but I’m distracted from them by a message from my lawyer. He’s found something. Not a loophole per say. House will have to take the loss, but if it’s the only option, then I’ll suck it up and run with it. I shoot off a quick email to that effect. Then I enjoy the quiet of the empty house while I eat breakfast before heading over to meet Tom and Razer at the gym.
Razer’s already in the ring, working over some guy, while Tom talks to a petite blonde by one of the bags. Settling against the wall, I watch Razer as he dances and jabs. I’ve seen Tommy fight, and he’s powerful, skilled, dynamic. But Razer, oh my quivering insides. There’s something about the way he moves, lean muscle and sinew flexing with such animalistic grace, that fascinates me. When the two finally part, he spots me and his face lights up as he cocks a glove to usher me over. “You ready?”
“Yes.” I nod and climb into the ring. “But I have to warn you I fight dirty.”
“I know you do,” he chuckles. “But try to remember your brother’s in the room. We don’t want him getting any ideas.”
“Okay,” I say, shaking out my arms and stretching my neck before rolling my shoulders several times.
“I’m serious Claire. They’re going to be pissed if they find out. What we’re doing. It’s going to hurt your family.”
I don’t want to talk about it. I’m not sure I agree with him. And even if he’s right, I have to believe they’d get over it. That it would be worth it. “What do you think you can teach me that living with four giant bags of testosterone didn’t?”
He strips off his gloves as he stalks toward me. “I’m really hoping I don’t have to teach you anything. I don’t want to have to kick your brother’s ass if he hasn’t kept you sharp on how to defend yourself.” He grips my wrist tightly, hauling his other hand back behind his shoulder as if he’s ready to strike. “We’ll start off easy. You remember this one, right?”
“How could I forget?” I push my hand up in his face, the heel of my palm connecting lightly with his nose.
His eyes widen, and I drop my hand away. “Is that good?”
“I was expecting you to go for the arm I’m holding you with, but this is better. You push all your power into that move, you’re going to break your attacker’s nose, or at least get them off balance, forcing them to let go of you. Tom teach you that?”
I nod. “What’s next?”
We go through a series of defensive moves, finessing my technique, though there isn’t much I’ve forgotten. Some of the guys who’ve been working out end up lining the ring, hanging on the ropes as they watch us, and every now and then Tom stops to call out to me, goading Razer by telling me to take him down.
But I’m enjoying this sparring, his hands on me even when he’s concentrating on my protection, and when he spins me into his arms, wrapping them around my neck, I can tell he’s relishing it too. “Well, sugar? Do you think you can get out of this one?”
“I might not want to.” I press my ass into him, and tilt my head to whisper, “unless we can practice this one later, naked.”
He hisses between his teeth. “You play vicious. Your brother’s watching, and if I let you go now I think he’ll know some thing is up.”
“Let him know.” I tuck the fingers of both hands inside the arm around my throat, giving him a chance to respond, but he just shakes his head, whispering against my ear that there’s no point in dragging anyone else into our secret when we’ll be going our separate ways before much longer. That this can’t be more than it is. That betraying Mace is the worst thing he’s ever done, not to mention my parents.
Anger bristles under my skin, my chest tightening. I don’t understand why he keeps telling me the same thing. I don’t plan on letting go now that I have him. Sure, he told me not to expect anything from him. That we could only have that one night. But that was a week ago. Every touch, every night we spend wrapped around each other convinces me he wants more, too. I should be happy with whatever I can get, but I’m greedy when it comes to him. I want it all — Razer, in my bed, in my life, permanently. Not sneaking around behind my family’s back, but out in the open where I can claim his mouth and kiss the ever loving bejeesus out of him right in front of them without worrying about what will happen when we get caught.
I tuck my chin into his elbow, pushing my butt firmly into his crotch as I bend my knees, and then I’m throwing him over my shoulder and onto the mat in front of me before planting my knee in his gut.
He lets out an oomph, and the guys around the ring give me a cheer. But I’m not ecstatic that I’ve managed to land the move, or that there’s shock in his gaze. I’m not elated when Tom climbs up the ropes to give me a high five, while he jeers at Razer.
I’m kind of numb. He’s sticking to his guns, and I can imagine this is how I’ll feel if what’s between us ends the way he keeps telling me it will. If I have to go back to my real life and pretend none of this ever happened. Doubt niggles at my belly. I’m not going to back down, but neither is he. I slip between the ropes and take off, while Tom continues to rile Razer.
Razer
“What the hell do you think you were doing, taking off like that?” I stare down at her where she’s sitting at one of the tables in the tiny diner, eating a slice of pie. Freaking pie. She gives me wood in front of her brother, turns me on so fucking hard that I can hardly string a sentence together, while I try to hide the evidence of what she does to me, and she’s knocking back dessert?
“Do you want a bite?” She offers me her fork. “It’s pretty good.”
“No, I don’t want a bite of your blasted pie,” I slouch in the chair opposite and scowl, my arms crossed. “I want to know why you took off.”
“I wanted pie.” She pops another forkful into her mouth.
“Don’t be difficult, Claire.” I snatch the fork out of her hand. “You don’t take off for fucking apple, and…” I prod the crust with the fork. “Rhubarb?”
“You should try it.” She pushes the plate toward me.
“You should try telling me the real reason you bolted like your ass was on fire.”
She folds her hands on the table in front of her. “You really want to know?”
“Yes. I really want to know.” I scoop up a bite and chew on it while I wait for her to answer.
“Fine,” she says. “You think I don’t know what I want. That I’m too young to be sure of what I want in my future. But you’re wrong. I know what I want.”
“Pie?” I mutter, trying to throw her off track. I don’t want to hear her tell me she wants more than what we’ve already got. That’ll only make it harder when she goes back to her real life, and I have to move on, possibly this time with nothing. Even if my chest swells at the very idea that she could be mine in more than just body. That she’s exactly the type of girl who does know what she wants.
“You, you ass. But you know that.” She tosses her head. “And you still don’t believe me. So I’m going to eat pie, because at least when I want pie it doesn’t tell me I’m too young to know what I want.”
She steals the plate back, scooping the apple and rhubarb concoction into her mouth, and I don’t know whether to kiss her, or continue to argue that she can’t possibly know what she wants when it comes to us. It’s getting harder to keep this our little secret, but the idea of losing all of them, losing her in the long run, makes it hard to muster the confidence to tell her brothers exactly how I feel about their little sister. “You are too young. You’re only twenty-two. You don’t even understand the consequences of what we’re doing.”
“It probably doesn’t matter whether y
ou believe me or not,” she says. “This isn’t the real world. This is some kind of cocoon we’ve created where everything is perfect. You’re going to leave, and so am I. No one needs to find out. Nothing needs to change.” She puts her fork down and gets up. “I suppose you’re right.”
“Right about what?” There’s this pounding in my chest at the way she says that. I suppose you’re right. Claire’s never been one to back down, one to tell me I’m right. Those are not words I’ve heard out of her mouth before. I don’t like it. In fact, I kind of hate it. I shove out of the chair and follow her out of the diner. “I’m right about what?”
She ignores me and stalks up the pavement. Before she can get far, I grab her and swing her around. “I’m right about what?”
Her gaze bores into me as if she can’t see anything but me. “Not to expect anything from you.”
Yeah. I’m right. That’s what I told her. The lies I tell us both to keep this from getting complicated. It’s not the truth though. There are a whole lot of things I want to give her, want to have with her. Things have already passed complicated, because I can’t see how I’m going to be able to let go of her, which means I’m going to have to face the music. I’m going to have to come clean to her brothers. I’m not scared of much, but the idea of how Mace will react is fucking terrifying. Tom’s more easy-going. He’ll probably get over it after a while, but Mace has always been the type to hold a grudge. I owe him my loyalty, I owe his entire family respect, and instead I’ve betrayed them.
She’s worth it. But that doesn’t change the fact that I’ve abused their compassion. Pretty soon, I’m going to have to take my licks like a man. The worst part isn’t that they’ll turn their backs on me. The worst part is how it’ll affect Claire.
I let her go, watch her jog to her car, making no move to follow. I should go after her, tell her all these dreams I have for us. Instead, I watch her drive away.
