Good girls don’t flirt with boys.
Good girls don’t get into compromising positions.
And if they do, it’s their own fault.
But my mother was wrong, and it took her death for me to even consider it was a possibility.
“I want him to suffer.”
Cook’s lips ease into a slow smile. “Looks like we have something in common.”
I’m only a little surprised by the revelation. “Why do you want him to suffer?”
“More reasons than I can count.” His voice is low. “And you just added to my list.”
“Will you tell me how you know him now?”
Cook’s gaze moves across my face. “I’ll tell you everything, Pinky.” His eyes come back to mine. “If you promise not to go find him by yourself.”
I’m not sure that’s a promise I want to make.
“I know you think you know what he is, but I can guarantee you it doesn’t even come close to what King really is.”
“King.” I whisper the word out. “That’s what you call him?”
Cook barely nods.
“Does he live at the house I found you at?” I have so many questions. So many blanks I need filled in.
It’s the only way to find some sort of sense in my life. In the isolation. The backward way I was raised to be.
Cook’s brows come together. “What house?”
I rattle off the address from memory. It was branded in my brain the first time I saw it, late one night as I sat alone.
Lost.
Confused.
Refusing to acknowledge the anger brewing inside me.
Because nice girls don’t get angry. They are always calm and quiet.
The corner of Levi’s mouth lifts. “How long were you following me, Pinky?”
“I wasn’t following you then.” I manage to get a full breath into my lungs for the first time since he walked into the room. The air I inhale smells like him. Clean and crisp and fresh. “I saw you come out one day.”
“A lot of us come and go from that house, Pinky.” Levi’s hands relax on my wrists. “Why’d you follow me?”
“Your truck.” It was part of the truth. “I’d heard of FrankenFood. I knew you would be easy to keep track of.”
But it wasn’t just that.
I remember his expression that day. Sullen. Serious.
Grumpy.
I know how to handle men like that. I understand them.
Not that they normally look like he does.
My eyes drop automatically to the body I didn’t want to notice.
“Are you sure that’s the only reason, Pinky?” Levi’s voice is lower. Almost husky.
I know what that sound means.
Normally it would make me pull back. Try my best to do what I thought I should.
But my mother’s dead. She’s not here to be disappointed in me.
And I’m not sure I care so much anymore anyway.
“I liked how you looked.” My throat constricts on a nervous swallow. “I liked all your tattoos.” I accidentally run my fingers down his arm, over the colorful images inked onto them. I force my eyes to stay on his, making myself power through. “I wondered what they looked like up close.” I keep touching him, moving higher. It doesn’t feel awkward or wrong like any other time I’ve been with a man. “I liked that you looked angry.”
“You liked that I was angry?” Levi barely chuckles. “Not many women like my disposition, Pinky.”
“I do.” I press my lips together before I can say anything else.
Because I might like more than Levi’s disposition.
“That doesn’t make any sense, Carly.”
“You act like you do so people don’t see what you really are.” I can hardly breathe as I stare at my fingers moving over his skin, tracing the line of his jaw.
The lips I kissed.
The lips that kissed me back.
“What is it you think I am?” It doesn’t sound accusatory or aggressive. Levi almost sounds hesitant.
“You’re scared.” I barely whisper it.
“What am I scared of, Pinky?”
I lift my eyes to his. “Letting anyone close.”
“What about you? Are you pretending?”
I nod, my eyes unable to leave his.
“You pretend to be sweet and innocent so people don’t realize how strong and stubborn you are?”
I shake my head a little. “That’s not what I am.”
Cook’s lips lift into a smile. “You definitely are both those things, Pinky.” He studies me for a minute. “What else are you?”
“I’m angry.”
“Yeah. I caught that. You don’t hide it well.”
I shake my head. He doesn’t understand. “I’ve never been like that before. Not ever.”
“You’ve never been mad?”
“No.”
His gaze stays on my face for long seconds, the silence dragging out between us.
It’s all that’s between us.
Cook’s solid body is still on mine, warm and broad. A weight making me feel grounded at a time the world is spinning away from me.
All the rules I lived by. The things I was sure I should believe. How I’ve lived my life.
I’m questioning all of it.
And the answers are coming easily in this quiet room, with a man who is so much more than meets the eye.
“Can I ask you something?”
“Yes.” My stomach clenches at the possibilities.
Because whatever it is, I will tell him the truth. It’s all I have now.
The truth.
“What were you going to ask me before you kissed me tonight?”
It feels like forever ago, but not so long that I can forget the way he kissed me back.
“I was going to ask if you find me attractive.” I rub my lips together as the memory of that kiss burns across them. “If you’d considered...”
“What, Pinky? If I’d considered what?” Levi’s voice is rough, his eyes intense where they hold mine.
“Being with me.”
“You mean sex? Have I considered having sex with you?”
I chew my lip as I nod.
I’m in a man’s room. On the floor, his body on mine, my hands on his skin.
And it doesn’t feel wrong.
Because it isn’t wrong.
None of it.
“No.”
Somehow his answer stings. I know I’m not the sexiest woman in the world, but I’m smart and successful and—
Nice.
How very vanilla sounding.
“Not until very recently.”
“Oh.” The word comes out along with the rush of every bit of air occupying my lungs. “Oh.”
“What about you, Pinky? Have you thought about me?”
Admitting what I’ve thought is something I would never have considered doing even a week ago. It would have made me feel like I was breaking the rules.
Crossing the lines.
But all those rules and lines were created by someone else. Someone afraid. Someone suffering.
It’s time for me to make my own rules. Draw my own lines.
“Yes.” It’s still not easy to get it out, but just that one word makes me feel different. “I thought of it the first time I saw you.” That comes out a little easier. “And every time I saw you after that.”
Cook’s silent. Maybe he’s judging me.
I don’t care.
I smile.
Because I really, honestly don’t care. No one gets to decide what I am but me.
“I wondered what you looked like under your clothes.” My eyes dip to the neckline of his t-shirt.
“Damn it, Pinky.” Cook shoves off me, standing.
I stare up at him. I can’t tell if he’s mad, or frustrated, or just doesn’t know what in the world to do with me.
To be honest I don’t either.
“I’m sorry, I just—”
“Don’t
be sorry, Carly.” His gaze is serious. “Don’t ever be sorry for telling me the truth.”
“I’ve always told you the truth.” It’s one of the few areas where I agree with the things my mother believed.
Truth is the most important thing in the world. Honesty.
“I know that, Pinky.” The line of Levi’s mouth softens. “I appreciate it.” He reaches for me, holding his hands out. “Come on. I think I owe you some truth.”
9
“WE CALL THE man you’re looking for King.” I kick my shoes off and settle onto the bed next to Carly.
She’s quiet, curled on her side, blankets pulled up over her soft body.
The one that was just under me.
“He found all of us when we were young. Too young to know better.” I don’t want her to think badly of me. To believe I’m what I was.
I scratch at the shirt I’ve been wearing too long. I want to stretch out and relax.
Beside her.
“You can take it off if you want.” Carly’s eyes aren’t on mine. They’re resting square on the shirt I’m still fidgeting with. “It won’t bother me.”
“I’m not sure that’s a good idea, Pinky.” I wiggle around, trying to get comfortable.
“Why not?” Her gaze moves over my chest and stomach. “Are you embarrassed?”
I can’t stop the bark of a laugh. “No.” I work hard at my body, it’s one of the easiest ways to control the anger I’ve fought since I was a kid. That and cleaning.
“Then why not?”
Pinky’s been honest with me, but I’m not so sure she’s ready for me to be completely honest with her.
The woman in bed beside me is very different from the woman I thought I met at the food truck park, and I’m not sure how to handle her yet.
I’m not sure that’s even a possibility.
I am sure, that given the right circumstance, Carly could make me miserable in the most perfect fucking way.
“I think it’s best to keep as many articles of clothing between us as possible.”
“Oh.” Her eyes widen. “Oh.”
“Can I get back to the story that you were dying to hear?” I give her a little smile.
“Sorry.”
“Nothing to apologize for, Pinky.” I freeze as she scoots closer, settling into the spot against my side. I take a long breath, trying to avoid the way this feels.
The way it makes me feel.
The things it makes me want.
“Why did Herbert want you to be young?” Carly’s question is soft, redirecting my thoughts where they should have been.
“He didn’t want us to ask questions. He wanted to be able to tell us what to be. What to do. How to think.” I don’t expect her to ever be able to understand why I did the things I did, I just hope maybe she can try.
Because Carly is going to be a part of my life for the foreseeable future, and I don’t want her to hate me. To think I’m the piece of shit I feel like I am.
Was.
“It’s hard when someone you look up to wants you to be something that doesn’t make sense.”
The way she says it makes me pause. “It is.”
Carly tries not to yawn, doing her best to hold her lips together before finally covering her mouth.
I start to get up. “I’ll let you go to sleep.”
“No.” She grabs my shirt.
I’m sure she has more questions, but they will have to wait. She needs her sleep and we have plenty of time ahead of us. “You can ask me anything else you want to know tomorrow.”
Her hold on me doesn’t give. “It’s not that.” She squeezes my shirt tighter. “You should sleep in your own bed. The couch isn’t comfortable.”
“I don’t think you and I in a bed together is a good idea.” I try to get up again but Carly moves with me, adding her other hand to the first.
“We are two consenting adults. We are allowed to do whatever we want.” She lets out a little huff of air.
“I’m very aware of that, Pinky.” I start to unwind her fingers from my shirt. “That is most of the problem.”
“I don’t think it’s a problem.”
“That’s the rest of the problem.” I finally manage to break her hold and dart toward the door, opening it and sliding out, leaving just my head inside. “I’ll see you in the morning, Pinky. Sweet dreams.”
The last thing I see before I shut the door is her scowling at me from the center of my bed.
I immediately go across the hall to the bathroom, strip down, jump in the shower and turn it all the way to cold, letting the spray hit right on my aching dick.
I could have had her just now. Could have had my face between her thighs this very minute, learning what sounds a woman like Carly makes when she comes.
And I walked the fuck away.
Because while the thought of burying myself in her willing pussy sounds better than anything I’ve ever known, I’m not sure where Pinky’s head is right now.
And when I have her, I want her to be in the right place.
If. If I have her.
I’ve tried so hard not to think about the possibility, that from the second I acknowledged it, admitted to Carly I had thought of her like that, I haven’t been able to get it out of my head.
But the way she kissed me earlier today made it clear that being with Carly would be a delicate balancing act. One I’m not sure I’m cut out for.
I’m not understanding. I’m not patient. I’m not careful.
And she deserves all that.
But damn the woman pushes all my buttons in ways she doesn’t even realize.
The icy water does nothing to tamp down my problematic cock, but even taking care of it myself feels wrong.
Because I would think of her while I did it.
I shut off the water and wrap a towel around my waist. Hopefully it’s been long enough she’s asleep and I can sneak in and get something to sit on the couch in.
Because I sure as hell won’t be sleeping tonight.
I flip off the light before I open the door, ready to tiptoe in the darkness, but the second my eyes adjust to the change in brightness, I realize it’s too fucking late.
Carly is standing in the hall, her eyes glued to my bare chest. “You’re—” The word is breathless. Soft.
And it shoots straight to my still-hard cock.
“Go back to bed, Carly.” Looks like I’m sitting in my towel tonight, because I need to get her the hell away from me before she realizes—
“Oh,” the whites of her eyes get even more prominent in the shadowy space as they lock on where the towel juts out just below my waist, “my.”
“What do you need, Carly?” I grind out the question. She’s not out here for no reason, and the faster I can get her what she needs, the faster I can go throw some whiskey on the need she keeps stoking inside me.
And only part of it is related to my dick.
“I just.” Her gaze stays below the belt. “I was.”
“Eyes up here, Pinky.”
Slowly her brown eyes work their way up, inch by painful inch.
“Pick up the pace.”
“I’m sorry. You’re just.” Finally her eyes land on mine. “Attractive.”
I’m used to women liking how I look. Commenting on it. They love the tattoos, the piercings. The abs. All of it.
I usually blow it off because none of it matters. Not really.
But right now it’s hard not to push my shoulders back.
Flex so she can see how fucking attractive I can be.
“Please just tell me what you need, Carly.”
Her head barely tilts and her lips curve. “You said please.”
“Don’t get used to it.”
“I think I will.” She takes a step toward me. “You don’t fool me, you know.” She stops right in front of me, leaving barely an inch between my erect dick and the soft curve of her belly. “I see what you really are.”
“You’re the only one then.�
� I force myself to stay put as her body teases mine with its closeness.
“I’ll take that as a compliment.” She lifts one hand, the tips of her fingers barely hovering over my skin. “I want to touch you.”
“You shouldn’t.”
“Shouldn’t or can’t?”
It’s a loaded question that doesn’t leave me guessing what will happen if I answer her honestly.
“Go back to bed, Carly.”
“I don’t want to. I want to touch you.” She eases closer, barely gasping as my dick presses against her. “Please say I can touch you, Levi.”
My only option is to give her a different truth. One that will hopefully make her understand where I’m coming from. “I’m not sure I can handle you touching me, Pinky. Not right now.”
“Oh.” Carly’s hand lowers. “Okay.”
I can finally breathe a little easier, feeling like I cleared a hurdle I was sure would take me to the ground.
“Maybe you can touch me then.” Carly’s hand slides against mine, lifting it, making me realize I might have made it over one hurdle, but this woman plans to keep lining them up until I go down.
“You don’t know what you’re doing, Pinky.” The reminder is as much for her as it is for me. Carly might have shown me another side of herself this evening, but there’s not a doubt in my mind she’s still as soft and sweet and innocent as I first thought.
But the woman I’m facing now is clearly trying to convince me otherwise.
And God I want to believe her.
“I do know what I’m doing.” She pushes closer to me, pressing her body to mine as she rests my palm over her breast.
I can’t smother the groan as the tight pucker of her nipple presses against my skin through the well-worn fabric of my favorite t-shirt.
Carly arches her back, pressing her tit harder into my hand. “Please, Levi.”
I want this woman more than I think I’ve ever wanted anyone. I want to protect her. Kill anyone who tries to take her from me.
I want to show her I’m not what everyone thinks. I want her to know she’s right.
And I want her to want me back.
“Damn it, Pinky.” I wrap my arm around her waist, pulling her tight to me as I drag her back across the hall, kicking the door closed behind us.
Her arms curl around my neck, holding on as I take us down to the mattress, covering her mouth with mine. It feels like forever since I tasted her lips, and this time she’s more confident than the last, her tongue immediately tangling with mine instead of being hesitant.
Cook's Choice: A Bad Boy Protector Romance (Lost Boys Book 4) Page 8
