When Opposites Collide Boxset

by Kathy Coopmans

  I run my palm over my chest, choosing my next words wisely.

  “Smoking is bad for you, doctor.”

  “Yeah?”

  I can’t help but grin when she slings back one of my favorite words.

  “Yeah.” I jerk my chin.

  She slowly rises to a sitting position, crossing her long legs with the lit cigarette dangling from her lips. It’s then I realize she’s wearing one of my motherfucking shirts. The confusion must be evident on my face because she answers my unspoken question.

  “Amelia gave it to me to sleep in. Said you leave your shit here when she does your laundry.” She plants her face in the material she’s bunched up in a fist. “But it doesn’t smell like you.” I’d love for you to smell like me. Your pussy, mouth, and your ass.

  “Here.” I pluck the cigarette from her fingers. Having no self-restraint when I bring it to my lips. Her taste overpowers the nicotine scent. “Smoking will kill you.”

  “Ironic.” She plops back down on the lounger, keeping her knees bent up. I’m about one second away from tugging my shirt down those long fucking legs of hers. She’s killing me here.

  I lift a brown when she reaches over, grabs the last of the Honey Jack, swallowing it in one long gulp. “You should quit smoking.” Is that a challenge?

  Even during the lowest point of her life, she’s still a feisty one. One half of it the whiskey, and I know for damn certain the other half is her warrior attitude. I sit back in the recliner, relaxing my elbows on the tops of my thighs and dropping my head. A smile is tugging at the corners of my mouth.

  “You put some damn meat back on them bones, and I’ll quit smoking.”

  Her long, crazy hair whips all around when she turns quickly to look at me. Shock is covering all her features. Her mouth opens wide. No words come out. She repeats the process over and over, making me smirk.

  “You really loved her, didn’t you?”

  Wasn’t expecting that shit by no means.

  “Darlin’.”

  “Stop.” She holds both hands up. “Don’t call me that shit anymore. I hate it.”

  Before I have the chance to speak, she’s up and on her feet. Paddling around until she’s sitting down facing me on her own lounge chair. “And don’t ever call me bitch. I understand it may be a term of endearment for your—”

  My turn, vixen.

  “For my type of people?” I finish for her.

  She nods.

  “Listen real good to me. I don’t do bullshit or play games. I live a way of life I believe in, and ain’t nobody going to tell me different or judge it.” The veins in my neck pulse like they do every time I speak of my dedication to the Hell’s Lovers.

  “Other thing, darlin’.” I overemphasize the word to be sure I’m making my point clear. “I ain’t no fucking liar, thief, or rat. Zoe caught my eye the first time I saw her. Different circumstances, a different place, I would have had her in my bed. The thing is, I don’t share my women. She was off limits as soon I learned about Ricky. Been on the road a little shy of two weeks now and had lots of time to think. I was infatuated with her. I didn’t love her. I cared for her. The thing is, I love my family and Amelia loved Zoe, so it makes it my business.”

  I whip my neck to the side listening to the bones creak and crack. Just like my words did to Eden. I’m not about painting any pretty fucking pictures or offering up happily ever afters. I am who I am and don’t make excuses to or for a fucking person. I may have gone a bit far, but that shit needed to be cleared up.

  “Thank you,” she whispers.

  “Thank you?” I lift her trembling chin up, forcing her to look at me. “You are saying thank you after I just put you in your place, darlin’? Is that what I’m hearing?” She nods, pulls back from my touch, and then slowly raises her hand, flipping me the middle finger.

  “Thing about me, Brick. I don’t play games either. My world is black and white. Thanks for being honest.” She stands up without warning, wobbling on her fucking legs like a newborn calf. I stay close behind her fighting the urge to throw her ass over my shoulder. I point the way down the hall and then fling the door open for her. My chest pushes into her back, then my dick hardens on contact when her ass pushes into it.

  “Good night.” I jerk my chin then walk back out to the couch wondering what in the hell just happened. Women and whiskey.

  I’m a fucking bastard, and I know it. I’ve been known as the Grim Reaper to many. However, when the time calls for it, I do have manners; leaving her like that was my only choice. If she weren’t grieving and drunk, I would’ve crawled into that fucking bed with her. Wrapped her aching soul up in my arms until she fell asleep. The way I’m feeling about her ain’t nothing compared to what I felt for Zoe. It’s crass but the truth. I wanted to fuck Zoe, and that’s it. I’m starting to feel something else than only wanting to fuck Eden. You would think that would scare the hell out me. The funny thing is, it doesn’t.

  The couch fucking sucks when I lay my head down. Half of my frame is spilling off it. The whiskey and the wear and tear from being on the road for days on end make it easy to find sleep in spite of my mind telling me my back is going to be hurting. My eyes drift shut. My mind closes down, and all the fucked-up stress evaporates.

  I reach for the alarm trying to slam it in order to shut it the fuck off. I roll off the couch, landing with a loud thud on the floor. “Son of a bitch.”

  It’s then I realize I’m at Zeke’s and not my place. A shrilling sound echoes from down the hallway.

  Eden.

  I jump to my feet, pull my gun from my pants, and haul ass toward her.

  Pushing the door open, I see she’s alone and curled up in the middle of the oversized mattress, crying desperately. She fights to catch her breath. Damn. Why is it when I see this woman cry it cuts me open? I tuck the gun into the waistband of my boxers.

  “Eden.”

  She doesn’t acknowledge me, so I move in closer.

  “You alright?”

  Her words come in a broken tandem. “When I sleep, I see her dead body on the metal table. I wake up, close my eyes again, and I hear Wilder crying for me while Ricky’s evil laugh is coming from every direction.” I run my hands through the messy hair on top of my head trying to rip it from my fucking scalp.

  “I’ll go get your warm milk.”

  The fuck? Warm milk. I’ve lost my shit.

  She rolls over, showing me her red, puffy face. There’s a hint of a smile peeking out. “Don’t you mean ‘I’ll go get you some warm milk, darlin’, because I’m badass like that?’” I can’t help but smile. Anyone else tried that shit with me, and I’d lay their ass out.

  “My sister always wanted warm milk when she couldn’t sleep.” She nods while I’m standing here hoping the booze is still hitting her head. I’m not in the mood to double down my stress and talk about Clara.

  “I don’t want to be alone.” I close my eyes. The pressure building.

  “Fuck,” I growl. Dick twitching. I should have jacked that pierced motherfucker off. He is going to be hurting.

  She reaches out, grabbing my forearm, tugging me down. No damn way am I getting underneath the blankets when she curls back up into a tiny ball with her ass pressing into me. Fucking torture.

  Sleeping all night with a chick has never been my thing. Cuddling? Definitely not.

  I throw my arm over her, tugging her back to my chest, then run my nose through her hair, pulling in her scent after I place my gun on the nightstand.

  “You need sleep, Eden. I’ve got you.”

  “I ain’t family, though.”

  I don’t miss the fact she’s using my slang again. I swat her ass that’s covered up by the blanket.

  “Must be fond of you, then,” I growl into her hair.

  Three firsts in twenty-four hours, Brick. You better swing, motherfucker, or you're going to be out. Yeah, I’ll be swinging. Going to be a man and do it when the time is right.

  Silence pulls us bac
k to sleep. The darkness in the room our lullaby. Her rhythmic breathing is easing a pain deep inside of me that’s been simmering for years.

  The creaking of the door alerts me to someone being in the room. I’ve been awake for an hour but haven’t wanted to move in fear of waking Eden. Motherfucking pussy. She’s clinging to my body, her arms and legs tangled all around me. Her cheek pressed against my bare chest. This woman was made to be in my arms. Swear to Christ, she was.

  I crane my neck to see Zeke standing in the doorway red-faced and pissed off. My eyes go wide trying to explain to him nothing happened. The bastard doesn’t believe me, though; I can see it in his eyes. He finally walks out of the room shaking his head. Ain’t none of his business where my dick plays anyway, but Jesus, he could have a little more faith in me.

  I try to roll over, only causing Eden to stir. When I’m flat on my back, there’s no way to miss my tented boxers, revealing my raging hard-on. Goddamn balls are going to fall off real soon. Eden stretches out beside me like a cat sunning in a warm window. My teeth bite down on my bottom lip to a near painful point. I do my best to cover up my dick, but some things you can’t hide.

  Eden perches up on her elbows, glancing right down to the skyscraper under my boxers. Using my hand, I try to cover up.

  “Sorry, darlin’,” I begin to explain.

  The fucking vixen smiles at me. “I’m a doctor. I know how the human body works, Brick. Go rub one out in the shower.”

  Her smile is gone in a flash when she grabs her head. Hangover city.

  “Appreciate the concern regarding my cock. Lie back down. You’re going to be a whole lot of hurting today.”

  You just wait until I get a hold of you. I’ll hurt you in a pleasurable way.

  58

  Eden

  “This is the third time Jamie Watson has complained about how his wife being pregnant has changed her sex drive. I’m not sure what else I can say to make him understand that it’s normal. The man is driving me crazy.” I take a sip of my wine, uncross my legs, and lean across the table. I’m about to give this young woman a lesson on client confidentiality 101. Stupid little girl. She will never get very far if she doesn’t learn it now.

  “Maybe it’s time to toss being professional to the side. Be blunt. Tell him the blood flows to a woman’s pussy the same way it flows to a man’s cock when they are horny. In pregnant women’s cases, the blood flows more often. Then tell him he should be thankful her hormones are working that way instead of growing hair all over her face or farting all the time,” I say with a straight face to the so-called nurse across from me. I’ve been back to work for three weeks and finally agreed to go out with a few of the nurses from work. This young lady across from me is damn lucky she doesn’t work for me, or she’d never work again.

  All she’s been doing for the last half hour is rattling on about certain clients who drive her crazy. Not to mention, she’s way out of line when it comes to professionalism by telling me their names.

  “That would be stepping over the line quite a bit, don’t you think?” she remarks with a red face. Hmm. I hope my words are sinking in.

  “My point exactly, Stacy.” I grab my clutch. Forget about my wine and the little tart who I hope is smart enough to sit there and chew on what I said. I doubt it.

  I look for my favorite, very professional nurse, Gigi. When I see her at the bar, I weave my way through the crowd and nearly trip in my Valentinos.

  Saxon Hartley is sitting at a table with a group of men. He looks comfortable and sexy as hell as they all toss back a shot, stand, shake hands, and the men with him leave. Saxon strides to the bar, pulls out his wallet, and I’m struck dumb. He is not my type at all, but my God, the throb he’s giving me between my legs doesn’t seem to care. Neither does my head. He is downright gorgeous.

  I haven’t seen or talked to him since the night at Zeke and Amelia’s where I embarrassed the hell out of myself. Drinking too much and smoking a cigarette. I swear I tasted the nicotine in my mouth for a week.

  I sure as hell have thought about him, though. A lot. For heaven’s sake. He has a nice ass. He said he doesn’t play games. I wonder if he’d let me play quarter bounce off his backside. Shit, I’m sweating.

  I left while he was in the shower. Called Zeke and Amelia later that afternoon to thank them for everything. Only I didn’t get very far with my thanks. I sat on my bed with a very bad headache and listened to Zeke tell me it was time to pull my head out of my ass. So, I did.

  I also started eating, working out, and stopped drinking. The expensive glass of wine was the first drink I’ve had since, and now as I watch Saxon at the bar, the way the muscles in his back are flexing underneath a black button-up shirt, I could go for something stronger. Like a chair for example. In the corner. Where I could squirm and relieve the ache between my thighs or play with myself.

  Pregnant women are not the only ones whose blood flows south. Men are not either.

  “You must be staring at what I was. He’s hot as hell. Smells good, too.” Gigi strolls up, shoves the receipt in her purse, and spins around to take another look.

  “Very,” I mutter. She doesn’t have to tell me how good he smells. I know firsthand. I’m a total idiot for keeping his shirt. I haven’t washed it either. Might have smelled it a time or two. I’ve thanked God at least a hundred times for having that man hold me all night as I soaked up his smell.

  “I’m sorry to cut our night short. It’s obvious Stacy has had too much to drink with the way she’s running her mouth. I’m going to take her home.” This right here is one of the many reasons why I love her.

  “It’s fine. Dinner was great. I had fun, and I needed it. You take her home. I’ll see you at the office on Monday.” There’s no need for me to elaborate Stacy’s behavior. Gigi is as professional as they come. She’ll set her straight.

  I continue to stare at his ass for a minute or two, contemplating if I should say hello or leave, when he shoves his wallet back in the pocket of his jeans then turns around and sees me.

  I have never been mentally seduced by a pair of dark eyes the way he is stripping me bare in all my life. They start at my neck, graze across my bare shoulders, arms, chest, stomach, legs, and stop at my feet. Not that he would be the type of man to care, but my nails are painted a very vibrant red. Zoe’s favorite color of nail polish.

  I would give anything right now to be able to do the same thing to him. To gawk the way I did when I woke to find him in bed with me. The man has a nice package between his legs. He’s pierced, too. I noticed the metal piece poking out of the end of his dick through his boxers.

  Saxon Hartley, my mysterious man, turned me on and made me angry at myself for asking him to stay with me after another nightmare.

  I have to go. I shouldn’t be thinking about him or call him my man. It has nothing to do with him not being my type. I feel guilty for desiring a man when my sister is gone and my nephew is missing. Not to mention his straightforward words that pierced my soul. The man is dangerous. I’m fairly certain he’s a killer. Which confuses the hell out of me in many ways.

  “Hello, Saxon.” I shuffle forward on my five-inch stilettos; tilt my head up to look at him. God, he’s beautiful. Scruffy face and all.

  “Eden,” he spits my name out. Angrily. Shit, I’m in a whole mess of trouble with this man.

  “Zeke has been keeping me updated. I appreciate everything you’re doing. I have to go. It was good to see you.” I’m being a bitch, and I know it. I just can’t right now. With him or anyone.

  I paste my clutch to my chest. My heart is pounding loud enough to drown out the angry voices in my head.

  He isn’t a game player, and neither am I. A blind person would have picked up on the short-lived sexual tension between the two of us a minute ago. Nothing is going to come of it, and we sure as hell can’t talk privately in there even if there were something going on. Which there isn’t. Won’t ever be and definitely shouldn’t.

  I po
und the sidewalk, round the corner to the parking lot, and make it to my car. I hit the key fob, climb in, and start her up, start to pull out, and sigh. I feel awful for brushing him off. Saxon has done a lot for me, and I treated him like a stranger. I glance up and immediately feel disappointment set in when I see him cross the street and slide behind the wheel of a truck.

  “God, Eden. What the hell is wrong with you?” I say as I pull out of the parking lot in the opposite direction in which he does, knowing full well that in my case, opposites may attract, but they rarely ever last.

  “Oh, shit.” I murmur a half hour later when I pull into my drive to see Saxon standing next to his truck. Arms crossed over his chest. Legs crossed at the ankle. The entire drive home I kept swallowing guilt with every swallow. I should have known that a dominating man like him would not take kindly to a woman acting out. Fuck him, though; I don’t owe him a damn thing except for an apology.

  “You even think about getting out of that car, and I’ll blister your ass. It won’t be for your pleasure either,” he barks, pushes off of his truck, and strides right into my garage. My temper flares. It skyrockets when he bends, sticks his head inside of my car, pushes the garage door opener to close us in. What the hell does he think he’s doing?

  “People don’t owe me favors when I do something for them. What I demand out of anyone is respect. Is this the type of person you really are? ‘Cause you were a fucking bitch back there. You also left my brother's house without a damn word to me. So, the way I see it, I’m making you the first person who owes me.” His neck flexes with each word.

  I owe him? Oh, shit.

  “I’m sorry,” I say truthfully. He’s so close to me I could reach out and take his bottom lip between my teeth. And bite.

  “That’s fucking better. Don’t ever pull that kinda bullshit on me again, Doc. That was a fucking game, and this is the last time I’m playing one. Now, get outta that fancy-ass fucking car.” He backs up a step, giving me just enough room to climb out. I jump when he slams the door, grips my arm, and guides me into my house.