by Leanne Brice
It’s always best to remain distant—distance allows reason to rule.
The only feelings that can be trusted are gut feelings. Anything higher and your whole world can come crumbling down because of a misstep guided by stupid-making emotions.
Already, I’ve broken several cardinal rules: I’ve given my real first name, and Axel knows what I really look like. He also knows a good chunk of my personal history.
I’m here with him, having told him more than I’ve ever told anyone since I met Taylor, and yet he’s looking at me with those fucking sympathetic eyes!
I can’t take this softness from someone I hurt, someone I robbed. I can’t…
“It’s no wonder my mom hates me,” I say tearfully, unable to stop a stupid fat drop from falling from my eyes. “I’m no good; I’m a criminal. I wonder if she saw it in me early?”
“April, I’m sure that’s not why your mom dropped you off.”
“How can you be sure? Most of the older drop-offs were troublesome in a way—emotionally unstable or mentally incapacitated. I looked it up.”
“I’d wager your mom had things going on inside her beyond you,” he says in a way that gets my attention.
Sounds like personal experience to me, and it’s a good time to take this uncomfortable spotlight off my life so I say, “Well, what about you? Who are your parents, Mr. Moneybags?”
He just looks at me for a second then lets out a quick breath.
"My mom and dad are dead and gone, respectively. My mom killed herself. My dad wasn’t all that good to her, and when she found out he had another family and was basically living a double life, I guess it was too much for her. I found her actually—blood and brain matter scattered, dead eyes staring at nothing. I think part of her still hoped he would stay with her even after she found out about his infidelity, but he just packed up and left to live with the others, leaving us behind. I’ve never met his new family. So I’ve got a dad and at least two half-siblings and it’s as if they’re all dead; I never see them. Lucky for me, my mom died when I was seventeen—not long from my eighteenth birthday—so none of that living in foster homes for years stuff. I got emancipated from my dad, and soon, I got to live in a big old house by myself.”
I can hear the pain in his voice and it’s doing a number on me.
I want to hug him so badly but it feels so inappropriate. Worse, inadequate.
And, you know what? Stupid.
Why should I feel the need to comfort him?
He’s still rich—he never had to sleep in a car or wonder whether or not he’d get to eat dinner.
Poor people have dead and gone parents too, and on top of that, they have to worry about stupid basics like food and shelter and dying from curable ills.
At least he had a big old house when he was on his own.
But I guess a house isn’t always the same as a home.
I can’t stop myself from feeling for him, even though he still had huge advantages.
Then again, at least my mom’s still alive. My dad might be too, whoever he is.
And I certainly never had the horror of finding the person closest to me dead.
Guess everyone’s got their hardships.
“The silver lining is that my dad eventually had some investments pay off big time and ended up super rich. We were all doing fine before, then he hit a jackpot and left us, and then he hit a bigger jackpot later and got a huge trust fund together for me. My college was paid for, and when I was done, I could access what he left me. I guess he felt like he made things right by giving me a good chunk of his money; money makes everything right, right?"
He smiles at me and I feel like shit.
I made a lot of assumptions about him, as usual, but you have to be dismissive in this game—you can’t think about the human behind the mark or else how will you function?
“I got the money he gave me to grow with solid investments of my own. And now, I have everything anyone could ever want.”
“Obviously,” I say.
He freezes me with a look.
“Wrong,” he says. “It couldn’t get much better, true, but there is one thing I’d like to have I’m not sure money can buy.”
“What’s that, Jupiter?”
“No, you,” he says, looking at me intently.
My heart does a flip. He looks so intense, it’s making my beats speed up.
I don’t like the sincerity that appears on his face—it’s confusing me.
It’s making me feel like my chest is opening—like my inside parts are exposed to the unpredictable outside elements—and I don’t want that.
“I kind of would rather my dad in my life than the money, but…” He shrugs. “Anyway, that watch you stole from me came from my dad,” he continues softly.
“Oh,” I say guiltily.
I look down, twiddling my fingers.
“I didn’t care about the cash you took—I always bring rolls with me to give away—but despite my dad and I not having a relationship, that watch meant something to me."
“I understand,” I say. “And I’m sorry. I was sure it wouldn’t be a big deal.”
“Normally, you’d be right. You just picked the wrong thing from the wrong guy.”
“I don’t think I picked the wrong guy at all,” I say, then flush with embarrassment.
What the hell was that?
Panic must’ve shown on my face because then he says gently, “Relax. Everything will be okay."
But will it?
I’ve got absolutely nothing—not even my usual tools of the trade. I have to start from scratch in so many ways.
Plus I’m in the custody of a man I robbed, so I’m not sure I can trust what he says and yet… fuck. I do.
I don’t know why, but when he looks at me the way he’s looking at me, I don’t think he’ll hurt me.
I know I’m being stupid and letting feelings get in the way, and considering everything that’s happened, I should definitely be more cautious and suspicious and not trust this gorgeous hunk as far as I can throw him, but I can’t stop myself!
Losing control like this is one of the scariest things in the world.
“So. Before we get to planning, how about we get to know each other a bit better? Lighter stuff, that is. For example, where are you from?”
Phew! Change of subject.
Still, that’s too much goddamn information he’s asking.
“I’ve been living in L.A.,” I say, dodging.
“So what made you move to L.A.?”
“I was a small-town girl at heart with big dreams. I thought I could make something of myself moving to L.A., but damn—it’s full of pretty people. It’s easy to think you’re something when you shine in your own small town, but a lot of small town pretties get the same idea, and I found myself surrounded by pretties from all around the goddamn world. Some with actual training, better résumés. Apparently, types like me are a dime a dozen.”
I chuckle a bit.
“I doubt that,” Axel says. “I’m not surprised the castings might not exactly be nuanced, or that you’d mistake a bunch of girls sharing similar physical characteristics for proof of being generic. But, April, you’re more amazing, more unique than you’re aware of. No doubt it’s part of why I’m drawn to you.”
My cheeks flush with burning heat.
What the hell is this guy trying to do to me?
“Anyway, sounds like we’re both gamblers. Although having seen others flush their lives down the drain because of excessive risk-taking, I guess you can consider me a cautious gambler. Usually. Obviously, I took a gamble on you, and strangely enough, here I am, doing it again. Maybe I’m more like my brother than I thought,” he says, his voice trailing off a bit.
“Wait, your brother?”
I can immediately tell I’ve hit another of his sorest spots.
“I used to have an older brother—until he became a victim of his gambling addiction.”
“What happened to him?”
“P
resumed dead. He liked to take risks and some of them did not pay off. Ultimately, he couldn’t pay off a gambling debt, and we haven’t heard from him since. We never even got a body to bury.”
“Wait, but then he could still be alive…"
“Doubt it. We suspect he has been neatly disposed of. My mom still held out hope, though, probably until the day she died. Somehow, the lack of any sign of him told her there’s a chance he still exists whole somewhere, that he could turn up someday instead of the greater likelihood he has been completely dissolved in acid.”
Axel pauses in a loaded way, like he’s waging a battle.
“It’s been about eight years since my brother paid with his life for his debt.”
“But Axel, dead men can’t pay bills. Was there any conclusive sign?"
“We received a package one day. I wasn’t allowed to see the contents, but after that, my parents totally lost hope and we had a funeral and everything. Whatever was in that package was enough to have a death certificate issued.”
Everything in me plummets.
“I’m so sorry,” I say, looking away.
“Thanks. Needless to say, I got soured on that sort of risky behavior pretty early—some consequences were pretty damned clear. So even though I play around, I don’t have a problem stopping. It’s like my dead brother sits on my shoulder while I’m at a table and whispers in my ear, Time to go! It’s sort of ridiculous considering…” He stops and looks at me. It seems he thought twice about saying whatever he’s about to say next but decided to go with it anyway. “…I have plenty of money. More than I can spend in this lifetime. Not to rub it in.”
“So wait—how come he couldn’t pay his debt if you guys were so rich?”
“That happened after. It was just his luck that some of my dad’s investments started paying off after he ‘disappeared.’"
He shrugs as if it’s all casual, and being able to see through it—witnessing the renewed pain of his losses plainly on his face—makes me ache for him.
He hasn’t really had it as easy as I thought.
I wish I could help him; reduce the pain somehow.
I look away instead.
“I still can’t believe how nice you’re being,” I say softly. “Despite experiencing this sort of thing on a smaller scale before.”
I shake my head.
“You know, I’ve been taught that most people are essentially selfish, evil even. But you know what? Since I’ve been working like this, I’ve discovered that sickeningly, most people actually want to be good. I can tell that even jaded ones who tell me no want to say yes so badly, but they don’t want to be a fool. In that moment, they want to be smart and safe, not good and stupid. But sometimes, even when they suspect they’re being conned, it’s like they can’t risk it—they can’t risk turning down the young girl who says she got robbed and is just looking for enough for an Uber to get back home. They can’t live with the thought that maybe that sad-faced girl might actually go hungry tonight if they keep it moving and don’t give her a fiver.”
My eyes well again and I feel Axel’s arms wrap around me.
“I have no doubt you killed it in the streets, April. How many could really resist you? I certainly can’t, despite everything.”
His voice is deep and gentle and pierces the most hidden parts of me, awakening all sorts of parts that have been asleep.
Our eyes meet, and I’m surprised the lights don’t go out as the room is suddenly and heavily charged.
Chapter 13
Axel
The air is heavy. Not because of sadness or regret; there’s not a hint of anger or sorrow.
The air crackling with electricity.
Desire courses between April and me, and though she is avoiding my eyes, I know April feels it as strongly as I do.
My cock is swelling, filling with need.
I know April wants me too, but it seems she’s hesitant about how I would receive her.
Her own emotions are eclipsing her gut—like mine did when I first met her.
She’s probably wondering, Will he think seduction is part of my new plan? Will he get suspicious and stop trusting me? Will he be disgusted if I’m forward about this and reject me?
If she could quiet her brain screaming at her that I’m likely disgusted with her, if she could stop beating herself up for being unveiled as a lowly thief, she would hear her gut whispering, It doesn’t matter what you’ve done, he still wants you.
Because I do. Badly, and in every way.
I’ll show her.
I pull her into my arms, rubbing her back a little as I hold her, trying to reassure her with my body that I forgive her, that it will be okay, that she is safe now.
I know it will probably take a while for her to accept that, but I have to start somewhere. I can at least show her that I still want her.
I tilt her chin up, and after a moment of hesitation, she gazes up at me, her blue-gray eyes searching mine, softening parts of me while others harden more.
I bring my lips to hers.
Tingles of electricity light up my mouth at the contact with hers.
I want to say I don’t know what this is charging my body like this, but I do, and man, is it frightening because I know it’s not just lust.
April has way too much power over me—I’m far too invested in protecting her, ensuring her happiness.
Here we are, sharing a soft kiss, a tentative kiss, and it is shaking everything up in me.
I’ve never felt so raw—well, not since the last time I let myself be open to a woman, the one who imparted the most important lessons to me about the fairer sex as she fooled me into giving her access to a chunk of money—do not trust lightly.
But this thing between April and me—I’m not letting myself be open this time, something else has the reins, something else is in control. I can’t help myself, and I don’t even care to stop what’s happening. Even after knowing what April is capable of, here I am, vulnerable to her, open to any weapon she can use against me.
All that matters is that she’s here with me, in my arms.
Warmth runs through me again.
Her lips are so sweet.
She tries to deepen our kiss and I let her, but I don’t let her drag us to the bedroom.
I can feel she wants to get past this part and get down to the basics, and I think I understand why.
I can feel it as strongly from her as it radiates from me—she is soft, open, and vulnerable against any weapon I can use against her.
But there’s only one tool I have aimed at her.
We explore each other’s mouths I feel her melting for me, her remaining walls crumbling down.
Only then do I move my lips to her neck, and her head arches back as she lets me nibble on her.
"Axel," she whispers, and the way she says it twists me.
She sounds like she’s pleading, begging for some sort of mercy.
My thumb grazes her cheek as my lips make their way further down to her delicate shoulders.
She’s so small, her skin is so soft.
She feels so delicate and everything in me wants to make sure she’s protected and safe from now on.
I don’t want her to feel the type of despair that seemed to take over her today ever again.
I pull her top off and she works on my shirt.
Once we’re both a bit more exposed, she pulls her lips away and starts kissing my chest.
It is both adorable and maddening, and my cock throbs with need even more.
I realize where she is headed as she works on pulling my pants off.
She wants to pleasure me more this time, but I suspect that’s not all.
She has found another way to get to the heart of the matter, so to speak, to distract me from exploring her, making her a victim of my soft touches.
I almost stop her but I realize it is something she needs to do.
She pulls my cock out as my pants fall to the floor and she lowers herself until sh
e is kneeling before me.
My heart cracks when she looks up at me with her wide eyes, and I know I am done for as our eyes lock for a few moments.
Then she grabs my cock and starts licking it, and it gets harder in her warm grasp.
She teases the head of it with her soft lips, then with flickers of her warm wet tongue.
She licks my shaft, giving each side attention before suddenly closing her mouth over me.
She moves her mouth, bobbing her head over the lucky first few inches while her small hand works the rest of my shaft.
She slides her palm to my balls, cupping them before sliding her hand back up to the base of my shaft as she licks and sucks my cock, torturing undersides with her tongue.
Then she suddenly pulls her mouth away, leaving it missing her warmth briefly, before I’m distracted by her tongue on my balls.
She licks and cups them, then trails her tongue up my shaft before swallowing my cock again.
She starts moving more aggressively, bobbing and sucking and licking, making me never want it to end, no matter how much I’d like to bury my cock in her pussy.
When she moans against my shaft, I shoot closer to climax, the vibration catching me by welcome surprise.
She looks so sexy, and her small warm mouth feels so good, her tiny hands trying to grip my engorged cock, unable to fully wrap around it—all of it brings me closer and closer to spurting in her mouth.
But I don’t want to end there.
I let her bring me closer to the edge, gently grabbing her head and moving her mouth over me, thrusting into her beautiful face until I feel my balls start to draw up.
Then I pull away from her quickly, my cock regretfully leaving her warm mouth, stopping her from taking me over the edge.
“Get up,” I say, my voice thick with desire.
She obeys, watching me closely.
I pick her up and carry her to the nearest bed, laying her flat on her back, her nude body an open feast for me.
I begin by leaning over, and I watch the happy anticipation fill her eyes as our bodies line up.
But instead of working my cock inside of her, I lean to her neck, delivering kiss upon kiss, nibbling the delicate flesh and making her squirm.
