by Kane, Jessa
And he proves me right when he rips away, pushing to his feet. He stalks across the luxury box like an angry panther, shoving a hand through his hair. Then, “Fuck. Let’s go on a date.”
3
Easton
It feels very odd to have another person in the back of my SUV.
Normally I travel alone.
I always imagined it would make me uncomfortable or intruded upon to have someone occupying my private space, but it doesn’t feel that way with Scout. She is doing that thing where she looks around with big, blinking eyes, as if her surroundings are a constant surprise to her. And once again, I ask myself what the fuck I’m doing.
This can only be a one-night thing.
But the possibility of me letting her go without any lasting damage to my sanity is growing slimmer and slimmer by the second.
That kiss.
Her sweet body under mine.
The way she challenges me, makes me examine myself…
It’s refreshing and terrifying. Half an hour in her company and I’m already beginning to thaw. Beginning to wonder if I’m a normal, breathing human under the layer of ice after all. And that makes this girl very dangerous. When tomorrow comes and I have to leave her behind, I could be left in this new state of living, but she won’t be here to nurture it.
I should take her home now, before I sink too deep, but…
It’s already happened.
And I can’t allow someone else to be her first time. No, I would rather fucking die. Thoughts of it would plague me for the rest of my life. Who was the lucky man? Did he give her enough romance? Did she cry out?
My grip tightens on the car door until it creaks, searing jealousy ripping through my gut.
No. It will have to be me. She’ll spread her thighs for the devil or no one else.
But for the first time in a long, long time, I don’t have a plan. I don’t know exactly what I will be doing one moment to the next. What even is romance? How do I make it happen? She claims it’s about knowing the person you’re with, but I have totally lost sight of myself…and I have no idea what she’ll discover.
“Where are we going?” Scout asks, beside me.
“I own a restaurant downtown. I’ve texted the manager to let him know we’re coming.”
“Oh.” Once again, she tugs on the hem of her dress, wetting her lips nervously. “Am I dressed right?”
My hand curls into a fist to prevent me from reaching for her. To fuck her on the seat and end the torture. Jesus, the moonlight loves her. Filtering in through the car window and bathing the slopes of her tits. Tits I’m all too aware feel indecently ripe in my hands. Ripe and young. “We’ll eat on the roof,” I say roughly. “No one is going to see you but me.”
She tucks her hair behind one ear. “Okay.”
Why am I speaking to this innocent girl so harshly? It’s not her fault I’m a depraved criminal who has forgotten how to have a normal conversation. I clear my throat. “You mentioned you love science. Does your job involve something scientific?”
“It will someday.” She sneaks me a glance. “When I graduate college.”
Jesus Christ. “And how long until that happens?”
“Well…it depends.” She folds her hands in her lap. “I should have another year left to complete my degree in physics, but it’s complicated.”
“Why?”
“I’d rather not talk about it.”
“Now I’d really like to know.” When she says nothing, I unhook her seatbelt and pull her across the back seat into my lap, tipping up her chin. “Out with it, cutie.”
She shifts on my cock and I grit my teeth. “It’s kind of embarrassing, you know? My sister, Whitney, is two years younger than me. But she’s been scrambling to pay for as much of my tuition as possible. So I won’t be stuck with a ton of loans. My father is a gambler, you see, and there was never a college fund…”
“Whitney is who you were sitting with tonight?”
“Yes.” She presses her hands to her chest. “She’s probably so worried about me right now. I love my sister. She’s my best friend.” Her exhale is sharp, a little annoyed. “That’s why I couldn’t let her marry Banner.”
“Banner? The fighter who competed tonight?”
She nods. “He’s always wanted Whitney and if he wins tonight, he gets to keep her. My father traded his own daughter to pay off his loans. Banner agreed to pay my college tuition, too, if Whitney married him. But I couldn’t let her consider marrying that awful man just so I could be debt free. I won’t let my sister be miserable on my behalf.” She presses her lips together. “That’s why she seduced the Russian. So he would compete harder. You wouldn’t happen to know if he beat Banner tonight, do you?”
“I’ll find out,” I say, kind of dazed by the avalanche of information. “If Banner won, he won’t be paying your tuition, Scout. I know that much.”
“Oh.” She looks puzzled. “Why?”
“Do you think I’d let another man pay your bills?” I nearly shout.
“I didn’t think about it. We’ve only just met.”
“Well, I wouldn’t,” I say with calm I don’t feel. “Consider them paid.”
She sputters for a moment. “No. Really?”
I incline my head.
Still she’s skeptical. “No.”
“Yes.”
Thoughts whir behind her eyes. “How much money do you have?”
Who knows? I don’t even check anymore. I just keep adding to it. “A fuck ton. And it’s just sitting there collecting dust, so you’ll take it and get your physics degree. Are we clear?”
Her brows knit together. “Why?”
“Why what?”
“Why is it just sitting there collecting dust?”
I open my mouth and close it, searching my mind for the answer. “There’s nothing worthwhile to spend it on.” A beat passes. “Usually, anyway.”
Her features soften. “Are you saying I’m the exception?”
My nod is brief. This girl has me admitting things I wasn’t even aware were true. She’s like an honesty magnet and I find myself wanting to drop my worst secrets in her lap. To have her judge me, sentence me, redeem me.
“That’s a pretty romantic thing to say,” she whispers, slowly laying her head against my shoulder. “You’re killing it already, Brawn.”
A laugh rasps out of me. And Jesus, I can’t remember the last time I laughed.
Is honesty romantic? Is that the secret ingredient?
“You spend all your time making money,” she says, tracing the collar of my shirt, lulling me, making me hot all at once. “But if it doesn’t make you happy, what is the point?”
“I don’t know anymore,” I say, meaning it.
“What if you used your money for good?”
I scoff. “What, like charities? They don’t want to be tied to me.”
“It doesn’t have to be something so noble.” Suddenly, she sits up, a breathtaking smile blooming across her mouth. “Not that I don’t want to eat on a rooftop, but do you mind a change of plans?”
* * *
She brings me to a dive bar named the Speckled Hen.
I’m against the idea immediately, but she explains that she lives two doors down with her sister, Whitney, and they’ve more or less grown up in the bar.
“When my father didn’t come home on time, the owner let us do our homework in the back room. We ate salted peanuts for dinner a lot.”
I agree to this change of plans for two reasons. One, I want to see where this girl is living and if I need to buy her a penthouse somewhere safer. And two, I’m curious what her goal is by bringing me to the Speckled Hen. Who is this interesting girl? She would rather go to a neighborhood pub than dine on a private rooftop?
Fucking hell. Now I’m even more confused by the concept of romance.
If the bar wasn’t full of men old enough to be her grandfather, we would have been out of there. And thankfully, the dim, ancient space only ha
s one entrance, one exit, and a limited number of windows. I position my security on the street and in the rear, telling them not to let anyone in or out until we leave. This is not as safe as taking Scout to my own restaurant, but I find myself wanting to indulge her—a highly inconvenient urge.
A cheer goes up when she walks into the Speckled Hen, then dissolves into silence when I follow close behind. Oh they recognize me, all right.
Frankly, I’d be a little insulted if they didn’t.
“Hello everyone!” Scout calls, turning and giving me a sly smile. “My friend Easton is buying all of your drinks tonight!”
The cheering is even louder than before.
Suddenly…I’m a hero?
And not a pariah.
Stools are opened up for us at the bar and I’m given good-natured slaps on the back. All the while, Scout beams at me. There’s a burgeoning warmth in my chest that I can’t recall ever experiencing. Definitely not since the loss of my brother and my best friend.
I hold Scout’s hand underneath the bar. Then I decide it isn’t enough and lock her against my side, while the old men tell stories about Scout as a young girl. How she looked like an owl with her big eyes and bigger glasses. How she would watch Jeopardy in the bar and the regulars would take bets on how many answers she would get correct.
After a while, the customers drift back to their usual spots, leaving me with an oddly optimistic feeling—and face to face with the girl who caused it. I pull her into the space between my thighs, appreciating the ripple of black fabric over her braless tits. “You’re actually drinking a Shirley Temple, aren’t you?”
She hums, a flush creeping up her neck. “Alcohol knocks me out. And they taste better.”
“And you’re not of legal age.”
Her wince is adorable. “I didn’t want to remind you.”
“I don’t need reminding.” I slide a palm up her spine, along her shoulders and up into her hair, combing my fingers through the thick wealth of it. “Tell me why you brought me here.”
“Because it’s real. You seem so…isolated.” Her expression is actually concerned. For me. It makes my jugular tie in a knot. “If you come down from your private box more often, you’ll see, Easton. That you’re not just a bad man, like you told me. You’re more. You can’t always stand above and look down at life happening. Sometimes you have to join it.”
“That’s not possible for me,” I say thickly. “Or anyone who gets too close to me.”
“Why do you believe that?”
Do I tell her? Do I ruin this positive impression she somehow has painted of me? Or do I let her think I’m redeemable when I know I’m not? I don’t know what I should do. Only that I can’t seem to hold anything back from this girl. How sweetly and gently she unwinds me. “This wasn’t always a one-man operation, Scout. My brother and best friend were my partners, before the life swallowed them up. They warned me…they warned me our dealings were growing too dangerous, but I was ambitious. I thought if I reached the top, I would finally…”
“What?”
“Feel something.”
“And did you?”
“No.” God, my lungs don’t seem to be working right. “But I feel something…now.”
Her eyes are serious, but her lips are teasing. Flirtatious. I want to devour them. I want to devour her. Trap her inside me so she can never leave. “Maybe you should have been ambitious with romance, instead of crime.”
I shake my head. “No. There wouldn’t have been a point until now.” I wrap an arm around her lower back and pull her closer, both of us starting to breathe faster. To say nothing of my heart, which is close to beating out of my chest. “Jesus, Scout. Until…you.”
She just kind of sighs and melts against me and I realize she was right. I could have fucked her on the couch in my private box, but she wouldn’t have been pliant. Trusting. Comfortable. She would have been hesitant. Nervous. Now she knows me. I’ve already let her in more than anyone and she isn’t repulsed or scared. She accepts me.
Thank Christ I did this right.
And then she says, “Take me home, Easton.”
And I realize I was never really at the top at all.
This girl. Scout. She is the top.
4
Scout
Oh dear.
I’m falling in love with a gangster.
I feel as if I’ve unlocked a treasure that has been sitting, cold and unopened, at the bottom of the ocean. Every time he looks at me, more coins and jewels spill out in the forms of secrets and I just want to gather them up, greedily holding them to my chest.
I’m in his lap once again in the back of the SUV, driving toward his home.
No one knows where exactly Easton Brawn lives. And I get the sense that he is trying to distract me now. Every time I try to look out the window, he captures my chin and holds eye contact, slowly leaning in to coax my mouth into a surface level kiss, as if he doesn’t trust himself to take more yet. His fingertips trace up and down my inner thigh, inching the hem of my dress higher until my panties are showing, but he never touches me there. In that place I am practically buzzing, growing more damp by the second.
“I’d like to move you somewhere safer, Scout,” he rasps, massaging my knee and easing it wider in his lap. “Somewhere with security cameras, a doorman…”
“No, Easton.” I battle through the drugging sensation of his kisses, so I can tell him this important thing. Which is…? Oh yes. Right. “No. Whitney has taken care of me for so long. Now you are paying my tuition. This one thing, bringing us somewhere great to live, that is going to be my job. I want that responsibility. As soon as I get my first paycheck from NASA.”
His mouth curls into a smile. “NASA?”
I nod eagerly. “I want to help build the next space shuttle.”
There’s a tinge of sadness to his chuckle. “Well if you can get Easton Brawn on a date, cutie, you can do anything.”
“It was my first date,” I whisper, smiling at him. “And it was a great one. Thank you.”
“No.” He shakes his head. “I should be thanking you.”
“Maybe on the next one—”
“Scout.” His jaw hardens to granite, whatever he’s about to say causing him visible pain. “One night, remember?”
Those three words make me flinch, a sharp throb appearing below my throat. “But…I thought you might have changed your mind.”
“I haven’t. If anything, keeping you at a distance is more important than ever. Do you know what I would do if something happened to you? Because of me?” He frames my jaw in his hand. “This city would wake up to rubble and destruction and blood in the streets.”
I search Easton’s eyes and glimpse a certain madness there. And I know that as generous and protective and deep as I’ve found him to be tonight, there is very obviously a little bit of the devil in him. Maybe even a lot. And oh goodness…maybe I’m attracted to that, too. His darkness. His unholy power, how far-reaching it has the potential to be.
“You wouldn’t let anything happen to me.”
He seems to be steeling himself against my words. Against the temptation to agree. “Stop to think about how I’d manage that. Do you think I’d send you to school every day with a kiss on the forehead? No. I wouldn’t. You’d be surrounded by armed bodyguards and I would still—I would still sweat bullets and fear the worst until you were safe at home. I would be jealous of everyone that came near you.” Laughing without humor, he drags a hand down his face. “And I haven’t even been inside you yet, Scout. Jesus Christ. This could be the tip of the iceberg. I know it is.”
Wow. Easton is firm on this. He’s going to let me go to keep me safe. His tone, his body language tells me there will no reasoning with him. I have no choice but to relent for now and pray he changes his mind. Hope he’ll give in to whatever is happening between us and find a way to make it last. Make it work. Because I’m already dreading the sunrise when the spell between us has to be severed.
> Easton’s phone rings and I try to use the opportunity to look out the window, ascertain where we are going, but he shakes his head. He tucks my face into his throat, so I can’t see anything, and answers the call. “Yes?”
“Sorry to bother you, Mr. Brawn,” I hear coming down the line. “Maxim Semenov has been in contact. The Russian wishes to express his concern over your…acquisition of his girlfriend’s sister, Scout.”
I sit straight up. “Girlfriend? Whitney isn’t his girlfriend.”
Easton raises an eyebrow at me. “Apparently she is now. Sounds like he won the fight.”
“He more than won the fight, sir,” says the caller. “He ended it in seconds by giving Banner a concussion and…well, he carried the girl, Whitney, from the arena over his shoulder.”
My jaw is in my lap. Oh my God. Whitney.
Seemingly undaunted, Easton returns his attention to the call. “Since when do I give a goddamn about anyone else’s concerns?”
The man on the other end sounds more nervous than before when he answers. “Semenov requests a phone call between the sisters.”
I nod enthusiastically. Whitney has to be going out of her mind. She has no idea that Easton wouldn’t dare hurt me. A few minutes on the phone and I’ll put her fears at rest.
Please, I mouth at him.
His throat works. “She will be free to make calls when I return her home tomorrow afternoon. She’ll call her sister at…one o’clock.”
He hangs up the phone, digs the corner of the device into his eye.
And that’s when we pull up at his colossal mansion.
* * *
Easton has my wrist in his grip and he’s pulling me through a dark foyer, striding ahead of me at a brisk, no-nonsense pace. “Are you hungry?”
I shake my head. My stomach is way too full of butterflies to eat. “No, thank you.”
“Thirsty?”
“No.”
“Excellent. Then I’m taking you to bed.”
