Spin (Boosted Hearts Book 2)

by Sherilee Gray

  “The boys?”

  He shrugged.

  “Shit, you just get weirder and weirder, don’t you?” She’d never imagined he could have this fun side. He always seemed so damn surly. But then, they hadn’t exactly met in the best of circumstances.

  “Thanks.”

  “It wasn’t a compliment.”

  “Sure it was.”

  “Oh my God.” She looked over at him again. “What the hell’s happened to you? Where’s grumpy Joe? Who the hell are you?”

  “This is me, baby. This is just the first time you’ve seen me at my best.”

  “If this is your best, I’ll stick with the other Joe.” She sounded breathless when she spoke. Dammit. For all the shit she was giving him, she…liked this side of him. A side she’d glimpsed that night at the bar when she’d kissed him. He’d made her laugh so much her sides had hurt. So yeah, she knew firsthand he could be fun when he wanted to.

  Though, the serious side was pretty damn hot, as well.

  Joe smirked at her. “You sound like my sister.”

  “You have a sister?” Of course he does, he just said so.

  “I do. Me, Hugh, and Lucy.”

  “Let me guess. You’re the middle child?”

  His brows shot up. “How the hell did you guess that?”

  She laughed at his disgruntled tone. “I didn’t see it before, but with this new, um”—she motioned at him—“Joe you just unleashed on me, well, I can see all the signs.”

  “And what signs are those?”

  “You’re obviously a clown under the gruff exterior. An attention seeker. Classic middle child behavior.” She flicked on the turn signal, pulling over a block from her apartment. He glanced out the window. His expression told her he’d only now noticed where they were.

  All humor had fled his gaze when he turned back to her.

  “I don’t think it’s a good idea, me being with you when you drop this off.”

  He dipped his chin. “No.”

  They stared at each other, the tension in the car getting thicker. God, she wanted him. Ached for him. “Right…”

  A car horn blared.

  “I ah…better go.”

  He rubbed a hand over his cropped hair, a shuddery breath rattling past his lips. “Yeah. I guess I better get this car under cover, get to work.”

  “Yeah…”

  The horn blared again.

  She shoved the door open, but Joe reached out and grabbed her hand before she could take off. “Thanks, Darcey.”

  Goofy Joe was gone. Just like that, he was back to intense and serious. Sexy as hell.

  She quickly pulled free. “Bye, Joe.” Then she ran down the street and didn’t look back.

  No matter how much she wanted to.

  Chapter Eight

  Joe headed up the steps to Darcey’s place, anticipation a tight fist low in his gut. Letting her get out of the car last night had been a lot harder than it should have been.

  Yeah, he wanted her. Badly. But that didn’t explain the pressure behind his ribs, the fucking throb at the base of his skull. The way his thighs had bunched in anticipation of following her when he’d watched her walk away.

  He always got jacked up when he boosted a car. The thrill of it got him hard every time. He hated that he was doing it, but his body didn’t give a shit about his guilt. It wanted release. And shit, Darcey had felt it, too. He was fucking sure of it. Face flushed, eyes bright, pulse pounding under the delicate skin at her throat…

  He’d fed off it until his cock was a goddamn iron rod in his jeans. One touch from her and he would have exploded. He’d forced himself to drive away, to focus, to finish the job. But after he’d switched the VIN plates, he’d been so damn tempted to go to her, to take these same stairs back to her and beg her to do it. To touch him.

  To put him out of his misery.

  The woman was fast becoming an obsession. His mind wouldn’t shut the hell up. All he could think about was what her nipples would have looked like when they’d been interrupted the other morning.

  When he closed his eyes, he could almost feel her there, between his lips, warm beneath his tongue. He was losing it, had been distracted all day, and Adam and Hugh had both noticed.

  He reached her apartment door and cursed himself a fool. Why was he doing this to himself? He didn’t really need her to come on the jobs with him. Yeah, and extra pair of eyes was awesome, but was it worth putting himself through this kind of torture?

  Apparently so, because he was knocking on the scarred wood before he fully finished the thought.

  They were going to be scouting tonight, since he somehow had to come up with a fucking Ferrari. Finding and stealing cars like that were higher risk, more difficult to locate. Well, one that was easily accessible. The others on the list wouldn’t be much trouble to pick up, but this one required more planning. Which meant he was back in his suit, since they needed to mix with the rich and irritating to get what he needed.

  The door opened, and Joe froze—shit, he nearly swallowed his goddamn tongue. His lips parted in anticipation of…yeah, words. But the words weren’t coming, not while his gaze was still traveling over Darcey. His mouth sort of stayed open, jaw hanging loose, giving her an excellent view of his tonsils, no doubt.

  He’d texted her earlier, filled her in on what they were doing tonight and asking her to dress the part.

  She had.

  A blush lit up her cheeks. “Joe…”

  “Wha…” Nope, still couldn’t talk.

  Her lips compressed briefly, then she rolled her eyes. “Stop acting like a jackhole and get in here while I finish getting ready.”

  “A jackhole?” He couldn’t look away from her, from the shimmery, little black number she wore. It was sexy as fuck, yet classy—and short. And hugged every one of her outstanding curves.

  The smooth, creamy expanse of her legs made his belly ache and his mouth dry. He wanted to kiss his way up those shapely legs and uncover all her secrets. Smell her, lick her, taste her…

  She turned away from him, and he bit his lip to hold in a groan. It was backless. He could see the way her waist went in then flared. Her hips, round and soft. The fabric dipping low enough he could see the curve at the top of her ass. Not low enough to see the crease, but enough that he knew if he tugged it down, just a bit…

  He sucked a rough breath in though his nose. “You’ve got ink.”

  She looked at him over her shoulder as she stuffed some shit in a tiny bag. “Yep.”

  Yellow roses, a bunch of them, covering her right shoulder blade. They were delicate, some in bloom, some still in bud. It was an exquisite piece. Looked amazing against her pale skin and dark hair. “Does it…” He had to clear his throat. “Does it have a special significance? Or do you just like roses?”

  She grabbed a pair of heels out of the small closet in the corner of the room and sat on the bed to put them on. They were black, sleek, and high as hell. They made his dick hard just looking at them. He’d never seen her in anything but boots. Darcey’s dress sense was kinda edgy—at times almost tomboyish—but still hot. She had this whole sexy, ass-kicking, tomboy thing going on. It worked for her, really well.

  But this look—yeah, it was doing it for him in a seriously big way.

  She stood. “All ready. Let’s go.”

  It didn’t escape him that she hadn’t answered his question about her ink. Which meant the piece had significance, and she had no intention of sharing that with him. He rubbed the back of his neck. The woman was prickly as hell, for good reason. Didn’t stop him from feeling frustrated that she wouldn’t open up. This line of thought was irrational, unreasonable. But he couldn’t help it, not where Darcey was concerned. The more time he spent with her, the more he wanted to know about her.

  He opened the door and she stepped out ahead of him. As they headed down the hall, he couldn’t stop from resting his hand against her bare back—low, just above her ass—so he could guide her down the stai
rs. Her skin was warm. Fuck, and as smooth as it looked. The urge to lean in, press his lips between her shoulder blades, and breathe in more of her sweet scent was almost too hard to resist. He was a glutton for punishment, couldn’t make himself move away. And then he felt a shiver move through her. Jesus, he almost growled out loud. Because she was right there with him. He wasn’t the only one feeling this out-of-control attraction.

  Darcey cleared her throat and glanced over at him. Her color was still high, but going by the guarded expression on her face, she was going to continue fighting it.

  “If I’d been wearing shoes like this a day ago, you would’ve been carrying me down these stairs.”

  He lifted a brow in question.

  “The light bulbs have been blown for the last six months. If another one went, I would’ve been feeling my way up and down to my apartment.”

  “Right.” His voice sounded rough as hell. “Glad it’s been sorted. Though, I’m still willing to carry you.” He threw her a wink.

  She snorted. “Pass.”

  Joe was glad the job had been done quickly. He’d tried to find the landlord himself, to get them replaced, but he’d come up with literally nothing, not even the guy’s name. In the end, he’d paid someone out of his own pocket to come do it. He wasn’t prepared to leave it, not when Darcey was using that dark stairwell every day.

  “Seriously, though, the security’s for shit in this place.”

  Darcey shrugged like it was no big deal. “That’s why it’s so cheap. The elevator’s been down since I moved in.”

  Shit, he wanted her out of this dump. “You can’t find anywhere else?”

  “Not for the rent I pay here. I can’t afford more. I need to save every penny for when I get Noa…” She cut herself off abruptly, face going pale. “So I can get another car.” She smiled at him. It was forced, false. “The Toyota’s ready to crap itself.”

  That was the worse cover-up in history. Another secret she didn’t want to share. “Bring it in. I’ll take a look. Maybe I can buy you some more time…until you’ve got enough for something decent.”

  “Um, I don’t think your brother or your friend would be that thrilled to see me roll into your garage.”

  He pushed the door open and led her out onto the street. “Come after hours. No one will see you.” She was right. Hugh and Adam knew who she was, what she looked like. Joe had shared a picture he’d snapped of her with his phone when he’d been following her. Evidence he’d used to make his deal with Al.

  She glanced at him over her shoulder again. “Thanks for the offer. But I think it’ll do for a little longer.”

  The simple action, looking back at him like that, socked him in the chest, he wasn’t sure why, exactly. Maybe the way she had her chin dipped, lashes resting on her cheeks, thick and dark…the way they quivered when she looked down, avoiding his gaze. Or maybe it was how her narrow, bare back seemed even paler out in the street, delicate. The way the light shadowed the curve over her hips, the sweet line of her shoulders—fuck knows what it was. But staring at her right then was like someone had thrown a cheap shot and he was still dazed and confused, trying to work out what the fuck just happened.

  He cleared his throat. “Well, think about it.” They headed to his car, and he opened the passenger door for her. She climbed in, still not really looking at him.

  “So where are we going to find a Ferrari, huh?”

  She crossed her legs, thighs sliding together, and he almost groaned out loud, had to hang onto the door tighter so he didn’t reach out and drag his hand up her supple, smooth skin.

  Swallowing the boulder in his throat, he flashed her a grin. “We’re crashing a wedding.”

  ~ * ~

  “If I’d known this was what you had in mind…” Darcey grunted when Joe’s hands cupped her ass and gave her a boost.

  It was no good; her dress was too tight around her thighs.

  Her face heated, which pissed her the hell off. She turned back, trying to see him in the shadows. “Shove my dress higher. I can’t get my leg over.”

  The hands on her butt slid down her legs then up, taking her dress with them. He made a rough, guttural kind of sound that lifted the hair on the back of her neck, and her face got so much freaking hotter it wasn’t funny. Excellent. She was wearing a goddamn G-string, which meant her abundant, lily white ass was hanging out, and at the height of this fence—her cheeks were definitely at Joe’s eye level.

  She started wriggling frantically, desperate to get her butt out of his face, when those hands went back to her ass, her bare ass, and he propelled her over the fence—with a hell of a lot more force than was warranted. She squealed, nose-diving into a bushy shrub.

  Her hair was tangled in the branches, but the bush had broken her fall, and she’d managed to land on her feet. She was spitting a leaf out of her mouth when her shoes, gripped in Joe’s hand, clattered against the fence before he hoisted himself over in a single bound like freaking superman.

  He grinned wide at her. “You mooned me.”

  “Don’t say another goddamn word.”

  His hands went to her hips, and he tugged her dress down on a sigh. “Seems a shame to cover it back up.”

  “Give me my shoes.” She snatched them from his hand, brushing her feet clean on the back of Joe’s pants, while ignoring his protests, before sliding them back on. “How’s my hair?”

  “Ah… Well.” He tilted his head to the side. “You have that…sexy, tussled thing going on.”

  Scowling at him, she tried to finger comb it smooth, dragging out leaves and twigs as she went. “You didn’t have to shove me over quite so goddamn hard.”

  His nostrils flared. “Yeah, sorry about that.” He stepped closer and plucked a leaf from her hair. “But your ass was right there, offered up like a gift from the moon Gods, all round and smooth and bitable…”

  She slapped a hand over his mouth. “Stop it.” Her eyes narrowed. “And there’s no such thing as a moon God, dumbass.”

  A grin lifted his delectable mouth. It was wicked and far too damn sexy. “You just keep calling me names because you’re totally into me.” He tweaked her nose.

  “What…are you seven?” She shoved his hand away.

  “I’m into you, too, Darcey.” He winked, which should have been cheesy, but on him, it somehow wasn’t. “Right. Let’s do our thing, sweet cheeks.”

  “Get your hand off my ass.”

  “Oops, sorry. It’s dark.”

  “Not that dark.” She glanced over at him. “I’m starting to see a pattern here.”

  He arched a brow. “What kind of pattern?”

  “Goofy Joe and high-pressure situations.”

  “Don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m always this charming.” His hand slid up to her bare back, which was worse. The rough heat of his skin burned into hers. It rattled her. He rattled her. A shiver slid across her shoulders and down to where they touched.

  “Cold?” he murmured.

  “I’m fine.” Not fine. Soooo not fine.

  “You want my jacket?”

  Despite the cool night, she was feeling slightly—okay a lot—overheated. “I’m good.”

  The parking lot was packed, filled with every sports car you could imagine. Not her thing. Despite the fact she drove a shitty Toyota, she liked American cars. Solid, reliable, sexy. “Who’s getting married?”

  “Some politician and the society ‘it’ girl of the moment.”

  “Big age gap?”

  “He’s in his fifties, she’s twenty-four.”

  Darcey snorted. “Figures. This entire parking lot screams midlife crisis.”

  “You don’t like European cars?”

  She screwed up her face. “Tacky.”

  “A two-hundred-thousand-dollar car cannot be tacky.”

  She shrugged. “I beg to differ.” He was standing close, and she did her best to ignore the way his proximity made her heart beat faster. “Okay…well, I guess we should go
scope it out.”

  They walked around the lot while music pumped down from the reception room above. There was a balcony, and several people were out enjoying the night. She couldn’t see them, but she could hear their laughter, their voices loud, trying to talk over each other.

  “I fucking knew it.” Joe said low, excited.

  She followed his gaze. Across the lot was a shiny Ferrari. “See, totally tacky.”

  “It’s a thing of beauty.”

  “And cliché. I mean, it’s red. What a surprise. I can just imagine the douche nozzle that drives it. It’s embarrassing, really.”

  They reached the car, and Joe looked it over before he moved in beside her. “You're telling me this doesn’t turn you on?” He ran his hand over the shiny paint job, long, inked fingers caressing the cars sleek lines. “Hmm? Not even a little?”

  “Oh puh-lease. Only old farts who dye their hair and wear girdles drive monstrosities like this.”

  “Have you ever had a ride in a Ferrari, Darce?”

  She shook her head, backing up when he moved closer.

  “The way the engine growls and rumbles, the sheer speed of one of these babies…”

  He was right in front of her now, so damn close. She backed up a couple steps until she met the tall brick wall edging the lot, doing her best not to show how much he affected her. “So what happens now?”

  His hand slid into his pocket, and he pulled out the code grabber devise they’d used on the Porsche the other night. “We wait for the owner, intercept the signal when he uses his fob to unlock it, then follow him and take this baby off his hands.”

  “Well, I guess we need to find a spot to wait…”

  There was a scrape and a laugh behind them. They both froze.

  “Hey! Get away from my car,” someone yelled.

  Shit.

  “Wrap your arms around my neck,” Joe whispered.

  “What…”

  “Now.”

  She did as he said, and he leaned into her, hands dropping to her goddamn ass, again. Then he hoisted her higher, so their mouths were just an inch apart.