Edged (The Invincibles Book 2)

by Heather Slade

  I couldn’t get Rebel there quickly enough. Grinder had ridden to the hall with me, but when he came out and saw my car gone, he’d figure out what happened.

  I held the passenger door open, and before she got in, Rebel leaned forward and thrust her tongue in my mouth. At the same time, she grabbed the crotch of my trousers.

  “Earlier, when we were in Austin, this is what I wanted to do. I came so close.” She massaged my cock with the palm of her hand. I pulled away, and she eased herself onto the seat.

  “When I get in, I want to see your tits, Rebel.” I closed the door and stalked around to the driver’s side. I got in and started the car without taking my eyes off her as she unfastened the buttons on her blouse. “Speed it up.”

  If she didn’t, I might’ve ripped it open. As she reached around to unfasten her bra, I pulled the cups down. I wanted those nipples in my mouth so badly I could taste them. I threw the car into reverse and sped off in the direction of my house.

  “Play with them. Let me see you pinch them.”

  I didn’t have to ask twice. Rebel groaned, and her head fell back when she pinched her nipples with her fingertips.

  “Harder.” I reached over with one hand and cupped her mound. “Are you wet for me, Rebel?”

  “You know I am, Edge. I want you so much.” She took one hand from her tit and put it over mine. “Harder, Edge.”

  I pulled into the garage and cut the engine. “I want you to go inside. As you walk from the door into the bedroom, I want you to strip. Leave the clothes on the floor as you take them off and wait for me on the bed. Do you understand me?” I asked when she looked at me with wide eyes.

  “Yes.”

  “Go, Rebel. Naked on the bed, with your legs spread.”

  “Yes, Edge.” With hooded eyes, she got out of the car.

  I counted to thirty and then followed, leaving pieces of my clothing on the floor along the way, like I’d told her to. When I reached the bedroom, naked as she was, I rested my knees on the bench at the end of the bed and focused on her glistening pussy.

  “Touch yourself, Rebel. Spread yourself open for me.”

  She cried out in pleasure, her whole body writhing for me. I walked to the edge of the bed and stroked my finger over her collarbone and along the curve of her neck. Her nipples were puckered, hard, and begging for my mouth.

  “Do you want me, Rebel?”

  “You know I do, Edge.”

  “Where?”

  “Everywhere.”

  I’d told her once that if she wanted it, to ask. If she wanted me everywhere, that’s what she’d get.

  “Tell me, Rebel, can you behave or, shall I restrain you?”

  She moved her head from side to side. “I don’t know.”

  I bit the side of her breast, and she cried out.

  “Where should your hands be, Rebel?” I asked when I noticed her pulling at the bedclothes.

  “Here?” she asked, bringing them back to her pussy.

  “If you keep your hands where they belong and your legs spread for me. I won’t restrain you.”

  Her only response was to plead with her eyes.

  “What do you want first? My mouth, my fingers, or my cock?”

  “I want it all,” she moaned.

  “So greedy.”

  “I can’t get enough of you, Edge.”

  “The first thing we need to do is make sure you’re never tempted to tell me again that we’re ‘just friends.’”

  Her eyes opened wide.

  “I’ve been waiting for this for two long days. Tell me you’ll never make me wait again, little Rebel.”

  “I won’t. I promise.”

  “Good.” I moved her hands. “Put those over your head.” I stroked a finger from her clit to her opening, swirling through her wetness. “Such a pretty pussy, and all for me.” I licked her clit repeatedly and slid one finger inside her.

  “Edge, please.”

  “Now, for your punishment. I want you to watch me, sweetness.”

  She moaned again and arched against my mouth.

  I tortured her with my mouth and fingers until the only thing she could do was beg. “Please, God. Please fuck me, Edge. I can’t stand it.”

  “I think you’ve learned your lesson.”

  “I have. I promise.”

  I smiled and kissed her, thrusting my tongue into her mouth. The whimpers I felt vibrating from her mouth into mine, were the sweetest sound I’d ever heard. Like her, I couldn’t stand it any longer. I grabbed a condom from the drawer.

  Once sheathed, I entered her with one powerful thrust, pushing through her convulsing pussy. She began to thrash under me, her wet warmth pulling me in deeper.

  Rebel whimpered and cried, begging for a release. When I brought my fingers to her clit and pinched, her scream tore through the room. Once I gave her the first orgasm, I pulled back, torturing her all over again, until finally, my cock swelled and I gave into the incredible feeling of releasing the days of frustration into her body.

  “No Christmas tree tonight,” she murmured before her breathing evened out.

  Exhausted, every bit of pleasure wrung out of both of us, we slept.

  I woke her two more times before the alarm went off. When it did, we both rolled from the bed and let the warm water from the double-headed shower soothe our aching muscles.

  I felt a calmness emanating from Rebel, which mirrored my own sense of peace. The angst of having to keep my hands off of her dissipated, and in its place, I felt whole, complete, no longer questioning, just accepting. For now, we didn’t need to define what we were to each other. I hoped I wasn’t wrong in believing Rebel felt the same way I did.

  We spent the next week in each other’s arms as much as her work schedule at the dining hall would allow.

  We put up a Christmas tree one night and took two more to decorate it, adding the homemade ornaments little by little until we both agreed our tree was full.

  I’d avoided everything to do with the holiday for so long that I’d forgotten how genuinely happy it made me.

  While Rebel worked, I delighted in finding gifts for her. I’d agreed to her request not to be extravagant, which made finding small things I knew she’d treasure, so much more satisfying.

  I spoke with Lennox twice about the holiday, and after the second, we agreed we’d spend it apart but without regret, given how happy each of us felt.

  We planned to celebrate Christmas Eve with Tee-Tee and Boon so we could spend the next day and night on our own.

  “What about Grinder?” she’d asked the week before.

  “I’ll check, but my prediction is he’ll decline any invitation we offer.”

  The morning of Christmas Eve, I dropped Rebel off at the dining hall and sent a text to Grinder, letting him know I would be stopping by. I hadn’t seen him except in passing since the first night Rebel and I spent back together. Whenever I did, he expressed his happiness for us. Any attempt on my part to get him to talk went the way it always did, with Grinder shutting down and making an excuse for either him or me to leave. This morning was very different.

  When he greeted me at the door, it looked as though he hadn’t slept in days. He had dark circles under his eyes, his hair was unkempt, and it appeared he’d lost weight in the two or three days since I’d seen him last.

  “Grind—”

  He held up his hand. “Come in and have a seat.” The quarter-full whiskey bottle on the table and another empty one on the counter told me that while I’d seen him in dark places before, this time was much worse.

  “I’ve come to talk to you about Christmas.”

  Grinder hung his head, shaking it back and forth. “I can’t do this, Edge.”

  I moved the chair over and put my hand on his shoulder. “I’m begging you to talk to me, Miles. Begging.” We rarely used our given names, and when we did, it communicated a different level of concern—whether it was personal or professional.

  “Pia showed up a week ago,�
�� he said without looking up at me.

  Bloody hell. Pia Deltetto had been a part of Grinder’s life since before we became friends in our early twenties. They’d met on holiday when they were teenagers, before Grinder joined the Armed Forces of the Crown, before his time in Afghanistan. Of Italian descent, Pia’s passions ran deep, both the good and otherwise. The times they were together invariably ended in an exceedingly dramatic manner.

  While her always-anticipated departure wreaked some amount of havoc on Grinder’s life, this time seemed far worse. I’d never admitted it aloud, but every time she left, I prayed it was her last.

  “Has she left town, Grind?”

  He shook his head. “I can’t do this,” he repeated.

  It was then I realized how drunk he actually was.

  “What can’t you do?”

  “I can’t be what she needs me to be.”

  “What does she want this time?” I didn’t even try to mask the irritation in my voice. I’d seen the woman stomp too many times on my best mate’s heart.

  “She wants me to be the father of her child.”

  I poured myself a shot of his whiskey, downed it, and poured another, all the while trying to calm the ranting inside my head. My feelings for Pia had gone from dislike to out-and-out hatred.

  “Who is the child’s father, Grind?”

  39

  Rebel

  Something had been off with Edge since yesterday morning. Every attempt I made to find out what, was met with reassurances from him that everything was fine, and not to worry.

  His stress sat so close to the surface, I couldn’t help but see it. He flexed his right hand more often than usual, his jaw was clenched, and when he was deep in thought, his brow furrowed. It was almost time for us to leave for Tee-Tee’s, and I couldn’t stand it any longer.

  I found him in the gym, sitting on the weight bench.

  “If you don’t want to go to Tee-Tee’s, we don’t have to. And if celebrating Christmas with me tomorrow is too much, just say so.”

  He slowly looked up, and his eyes met mine. “What’s this, Rebel?”

  “You’ve been so stressed. You say it’s nothing, but it is, Edge. You asked me to tell you if there’s something bothering me instead of pulling away. This is me telling you.”

  He stood, walked over to me, and cupped my cheek with his palm. “I’m sorry, Rebel. I promise it isn’t you. It’s nothing to do with us.”

  “Do you need to leave?”

  His eyes scrunched momentarily, and then his face softened. “No, this isn’t work either.”

  I took a step back so he was no longer touching me. “What is it, then? If you aren’t going to tell me, then—”

  “Stop. Please. I need you to trust me. Believe me when I tell you that while I do have something on my mind, it isn’t anything to do with us.” He scrubbed his face with his hand. “I cannot be specific, Rebel. I promised I wouldn’t betray a confidence, but it’s about Grinder.”

  I sat down on the weight bench, and Edge sat beside me. I felt such relief that it truly wasn’t anything to do with me, but it was quickly replaced with worry for Edge’s best friend. “Is there anything I can do?”

  Edge smiled and shook his head. “You’re sweet to ask. I wish there was something either of us could do, but there isn’t.”

  “Did you invite him to spend Christmas Eve with us?”

  “I did, but he has other plans.”

  “Christmas Day?”

  “He’ll be away for a few days. He left yesterday after we talked.”

  “If anything changes, will you tell me?”

  “I’ll tell you as much as I can.”

  Christmas Eve dinner was a hodge-podge of ethnic dishes. Tee-Tee made tamales and Posole Rojo, and Boon grilled rib-eye steaks. I was responsible for an appetizer or salad as well as dessert. I made Ensalada de Noche Buena—a traditional Mexican salad with lettuce, beets, fruit, and peanuts tossed in a light orange vinaigrette.

  The dessert I chose was a surprise for Edge. I’d made the traditional English Christmas pudding seven days ago and hoped that it was long enough in advance for the flavors to mature. To my delight, he said it was the best he’d ever had.

  By request, I made a pan of cinnamon rolls for us to have Christmas morning. It was afternoon by the time we ate any, and evening before we opened our gifts. Instead, we lay in bed most of the day, telling each other stories about the Christmases of our childhood. Maybe it was because I was with Edge instead of alone, but so many happy memories popped up for me—things I hadn’t thought about in years.

  While he didn’t say so specifically, I guessed Edge felt the same way just by the smile on his face and the glint in his eyes when he told me stories about his parents and his brother.

  When it turned dark, Edge built a fire and we sat in front of our tree full of things we’d made together, and gave each other gifts. I only had one for him. I hoped he’d like it.

  “You first,” he said, handing me a wrapped box.

  “How many are there?” I asked, trying to look around him.

  “You’ll see. Now, open it.”

  There was a definite theme to the gifts he gave me. My favorite among the kitchen tools and utensils was a blank cookbook. “I want you to fill every page with all my favorites,” he told me.

  “It will take me years to fill this.”

  He leaned over and kissed me. “Precisely. I have one more for you.”

  “Let me give you yours first.” I got up and went behind the tree to where I’d hid his gift.

  “It’s so much more fun to watch you as you open yours,” he said when I set the box on his lap.

  “It isn’t much,” I murmured. “But it’s sentimental.”

  “This is the best Christmas I’ve ever had.” There was so much love in his eyes when he spoke, I almost cried.

  “Me too.”

  Gingerly, he opened the lid and pulled out the watch that rested inside. “That belonged to my grandfather,” I said while he examined it like the treasure it was.

  “Are you sure about giving it to me?”

  “Absolutely. I want you to have it, Edge.”

  “Time for yours.” He reached behind him and pulled out a very small package the size of a ring box.

  “Before you race from the room, terrified that I’ve gone too far, it isn’t what you might think.”

  He handed it to me, and I opened the lid. Inside was a necklace that looked like it might be a family heirloom, like my grandfather’s watch was.

  “It’s a locket,” he said, pointing to the clasp.

  I opened it, and inside were two photos I recognized. One was of him, cut out from the photo I first saw of him with his family. The other was of me, cut from the photo taken with my mother when I was seven years old.

  “Don’t worry, I made copies of the photos first. It belonged to my mum.” He took it out of the box and fastened it around my neck.

  “I love it so much.”

  “I promised you I wouldn’t go too far, but, Rebel, I have to tell you what’s in my heart.”

  I fingered the locket and looked into his eyes, unable to speak.

  “I’ve never felt the way I feel about you before.” He cupped my cheek with his palm. “I care for you in a way I never believed possible.”

  “I feel the same way about you, Edge.”

  “I never want to lose you, Lucy ‘Rebel’ Marks.”

  I leaned forward and kissed him, afraid that if I didn’t, I’d say the three words I didn’t think either of us was ready for.

  40

  Rebel

  One month later

  There had to be a better word for the level of exhaustion I felt. Whatever it was, would also have to be combined with elation.

  My first two weeks at the restaurant were a dream come true. I loved working with Tee-Tee in the ranch’s dining hall, but owning my own place someday had been one of those pie-in-the-sky fantasies I’d never admitted to anyone
. Just working in one, even as an apprentice, felt as though I was one step closer.

  Edge had rented a small house for us to stay in the four days a week we had to be in Austin. We’d arrive sometime on Wednesday and then drive back either late Saturday night or Sunday morning, and stay at the ranch until it was time to head back to the city. While he told me it was because he couldn’t stand to be away from me, I knew without needing confirmation that the issue of who “Lynch” was, was still lingering in the back of both of our minds.

  Christy, one of the waitresses, had been trying to get me to hang out after work all week, but at the end of my shift, I couldn’t wait to get back to Edge and tell him about my day.

  As I was leaving the night before, Christy stopped me on my way out. “Tomorrow’s Friday, you know, payday? Please stay and have at least one drink with us.”

  “I’ll see,” I told her. “But not more than one.” As the apprentice pastry chef, I had to be at the restaurant earlier than almost everyone else in order to have time to prep before my boss arrived. Being late was not an option. Neither was being hungover.

  I didn’t add that before I committed to staying later tomorrow, I wanted to talk it over with Edge. I hadn’t told her, or anyone else, anything about him. The only person who knew he was here in Austin with me was Steel.

  When I mentioned the invitation to Edge as we lay in bed, he encouraged me to accept. “Part of any job is the camaraderie with your fellow employees.”

  “Do you want to join us?”

  “Maybe next time. Have fun and get to know them on your own.”

  He never said what he did all day and night while I was at work, and I didn’t ask.

  “There you are, Lucy,” Christy said to me the next night. “I thought maybe you’d sneaked out the back.” She motioned for me to take the barstool next to her.

  I noticed a few employees weren’t seated. “I can stand.”

  “Don’t be silly. We’ve been holding this open for you.”

  “Why?”

  Christy laughed. “I told you how she was. Lucy, you’re on your feet more than the rest of us, and you start earlier too. I don’t know how you do it, girl.”