Hard Curves (Dangerous Curves Book 2)

by James, Marysol

  “OK, let’s go. I’ve got my car right out front.”

  “I can drive.”

  “No way.” He was abrupt. “You’re not driving when you’re upset. There’s black ice out there.”

  “I can –”

  “No. Come on.”

  She almost protested again, then she realized that she was actually pretty unfocused, and it was probably safer for her to not be behind the wheel of a car like this. She followed Matt to a sleek Jaguar, and she blinked when he unlocked the passenger side door and held it open for her.

  “Ummmm,” she said. “No undercover SUV tonight?”

  He grinned at her. “When I get all dolled up, I drive the Jag.”

  “Oh.”

  Sweet God. Just when I think the man can’t get any sexier, he goes and proves me wrong. Yet again. Damn him.

  The drive to King’s apartment was mostly silent. He drove carefully, glancing at Naomi every once in a while. She looked scared to death about something, and his heart squeezed to see her like this. When she’d been crying in his arms, he’d had to beat back the urge to sweep her off her feet, drag her home, demand to know what had happened. He’d kill whoever had hurt her; he’d fix whatever had upset her. All she had to do was tell him what was going on.

  Just point me in the right direction, honey, and I’ll take care of it, whatever the hell it is. You’ll never have to worry about it again, I promise you.

  They arrived at his building, and they parked in the underground garage. He ushered her on to the elevator, escorted her down the long hallway to his apartment. When she stepped in to Matt’s home, she looked around in surprise. It was warm and bright, and Callie’s art was displayed all over the place. His place was like hers, with an open-plan kitchen and living room area, though his was much bigger.

  He took her coat. “Go in to the living room, OK? You want anything? Beer? Tea? Water?”

  “No, thanks. Nothing.”

  “Go sit. I’ll be there in a minute.”

  She wandered in to the living room and sank down on to the sofa. She watched Matt in the kitchen: he removed his blazer, rolled up the sleeves on his dress shirt. At the sight of those huge, tattooed forearms, her mouth went dry.

  He just looked so primal, so strong, and in the oddest way, the elegance of the shirt only emphasized it, somehow. The man was pure animal with a veneer of playing-by-the-rules; his wildness was barely held in check. She wanted him to let loose all over her, to see him sweaty and panting as he ground in to her willing body.

  Stop it. Stop it right now. You’re just here to pay him a basic courtesy – to tell him the truth.

  He opened a beer and she watched him sit down across from her. He drank, set the beer on the coffee table between them.

  “OK, Naomi.” He leaned forward, intense and focused. “Talk to me.”

  She hesitated for a few seconds, then slowly reached in to her clutch, pulled out her personal talisman. She set it on the table in front of him. King looked down at the bright purple chip, wondering why it had a number ‘nine’ inside a triangle; it was when he saw the words ‘recovery months’ that the penny dropped. He stared at her, then his eyes focused on the bottle next to the sobriety coin. He froze, horror-struck.

  “Fuck!” he said, and bolted to his feet. “Fuck, fuck, fuck…”

  He strode in to the kitchen, dumped the beer down the drain, rested the bottle in the sink. He spun to face her. “Naomi… I am so, so sorry. Are you OK?”

  “Yeah,” she said, and tried to make a joke. “I was never much of a beer-drinker. I was a white wine girl, through and through. Though, to be honest, when I got going, I’d drink anything… beer, shots of Jagger, numerous Long Island Iced Teas. Sometimes all in the same night.”

  King didn’t even crack a smile. “I’ll be right back.”

  He left the kitchen and she heard water running. Mystified, she sat and waited. He came back now, wiping his mouth.

  “What did you do?” she said.

  “Brushed my teeth. I want to sit next to you, and the last fucking thing you need is alcohol fumes on my breath.”

  “Oh.”

  King sat down on the sofa now. “Are you alright? Really?”

  “Sure.”

  “I mean, after the auction? There was wine there tonight.”

  “Yeah, well.” She exhaled, hard. “I had a few – moments.”

  “Fuck,” he said again.

  “You need to learn a new word.”

  “Yeah, sorry about my mouth. I’m just – I’m worried about you.”

  “Hey,” she said, touched. “I’m OK, I promise. I’ve been doing this for a little while, and I’m slowly getting better at it.”

  He gestured at the coin. “For nine months at least.”

  “Nine months, two weeks, six days, and….” She consulted her watch. “…about six hours, give or take an hour or two either way. I’m a bit fuzzy about exactly what time I stopped drinking that night. Or, actually, that morning.”

  He shook his head. Christ, he hadn’t seen any of this coming. “Damn, Naomi.”

  “I know.”

  “Is this why you were crying? Because you had a moment at the auction? Maybe you got scared or panicked?”

  Oh, God. Truth time, girl.

  “No, that wasn’t it. I was feeling upset about – about you.”

  “Me?”

  “Yeah. You’d just told me that you’d had hopes of us getting together, and I was upset that it won’t happen.”

  King took her hand. “You want it to happen?”

  “Yes.” Her voice shook as she finally told him the truth. “I really do. You’re the most amazing, generous, gorgeous man I’ve ever met, and I want to be with you so much… and I can’t.”

  He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. This whole time, he’d assumed she was pulling back and staying away because of his shady reputation, his questionable activities. To find out that she wanted to be with him too, that she wanted it as much as he did, was like the sun coming out after a long, cold winter. King was warmed, dazzled, blinded by the brightness that was Naomi’s trust in him.

  I can’t believe she told me any of this… that must have been fucking terrifying for her.

  “Why can’t you be with me?” he said quietly.

  “Because of my recovery process. It’s part of the AA philosophy that you should be in recovery for a year before making any major life changes, or starting a new relationship. Lots of people don’t wait, or they don’t think it makes a difference to them. But I’ve talked to my sponsor about it many times, and I really think that I do need to wait a bit longer.”

  “Why do you think that?”

  She sighed. “Because I’m still trying to figure out how to live my life sober, just as it is. I need to be able to cope with stress from my job and my Mom without a drink. And if I were to throw in a romantic relationship and all the emotion and energy that it would involve, it would just derail everything. You know? It would be a major distraction from the work I still need to do.”

  “OK. So I’ll wait until you’re ready to be with me.”

  She started. “I’m sorry. You – what?”

  “I’ll wait for you.”

  Naomi couldn’t think of a single, solitary thing to say to that. Finally she said, “Why would you do that?”

  “Are you kidding me?” Matt’s eyes were as gentle as she’d ever seen them. “Because you’re the most astonishing, giving, beautiful woman I’ve ever known. You’re worth waiting for.”

  “I am?” she whispered.

  “Yes. You are.” Lightly, he ran his finger over the curve of her cheekbone. “Don’t you know that?”

  Mute, shocked, moved, she shook her head.

  “Well, you should, and I’ll make sure to tell you that every day.”
/>   “You still want to be with me? Even though I’m – I’m an alcoholic?”

  “Yes,” he said simply.

  Naomi felt tears starting again and she lowered her gaze. He knew what was happening, though, and he pulled her against him, holding her as she cried. His lips were in her hair, his hands on her back and shoulders, and he just let her come back to him when she was ready.

  After a few shaky minutes, she pulled away, and sighed when she saw new black mascara streaks on his white shirt. She was surprised she still had any left to smear all over that pristine white surface after her bawl-fest at the auction.

  “God,” she said. “All I’m doing tonight is blubbering all over you and your gorgeous shirt. I’m sorry.”

  “I don’t mind.” He cupped her face in his hand, wiped some tears away with his thumb. “I’ve got my arms around you, and that’s all I want right now.”

  “It is?” She bit her lip. “You don’t – you’re not disappointed that there isn’t going to be any more kissing for a while?”

  His eyes sparked. “Well, maybe a tiny bit. It was pretty fucking amazing kissing.”

  “It was,” she agreed.

  They smiled at each other.

  “Actually, there is one more thing that I want,” King said.

  “What is it?”

  “I want to be able to call you ‘honey’. And ‘baby’ and ‘sweetheart’ and several other things in that vein.”

  She felt a smile cross her face. “Because we met in a bar?”

  “No. Because I’m now officially courting you.”

  She laughed aloud. “You’re what-ing me?”

  “Courting you. Also known as wooing you.”

  “Isn’t that something that was done in sixteenth century Scotland or something, with noble families? Months of long walks and talking in the parlour over tea?”

  “Yeah. So?”

  “So I prefer to sit on my ass and watch movies, and I like coffee more.”

  “Yeah, me too, so we’re off to a roaring start.” King touched her hand. “Technically, when courting there should be no physical contact, but hell baby, I’m only human, so I need a bit. Is that OK with you?”

  “Yes,” she whispered.

  “But you take your time, OK? Take as much time as you need… we’ll do this slow.”

  “Matt… it’s not like the year thing is set in stone, you know? I mean, it’s more of an internal sense of being ready. I may feel strong enough to be in a romantic relationship next month, or it may be a year from now.” Her dark eyes were anxious. “You get that, right? That it may take longer?”

  “I do get that, and it’s fine.”

  “And – would you date while we were doing this? Like, you’d have coffee with me and sleep with other women at the same time?”

  His face softened. “No. No way. It’s just you and it’s just me.”

  “And it wouldn’t bother you to go without – without sex?”

  “Nope.”

  She thought about his womanizing reputation. “I find that very hard to believe.”

  “Why?”

  “Because – because – I’ve heard that – um –” This is awkward. How do you tell someone that you’ve heard they’re a gigantic man-whore?

  “You’ve caught wind of my man-whore rep, huh?”

  She blinked. Oh. That’s how.

  “Truth time, Naomi.” He traced small circles on her palm. “When I’m single – which is most of the time – I have one night stands occasionally. ‘Occasionally’ isn’t every night, or even every weekend. Maybe twice a month.”

  “And – and using the crash rooms? At Curves?”

  Wow. She got an earful, huh?

  “Sometimes. Every couple of months.” He took a deep breath. “When I’m single, I have sex with women who don’t want more than that. But when I’m with someone? I’m with her and nobody but her. I’m an all-in kind of guy, honey. For me, it’s all or nothing, and there’s fuck-all in between.”

  God, she wanted to believe him…she really did. But her instinct to not trust men was strong and it had been drilled in to her for years. He saw it in her face and he got even more gentle, more careful.

  “I want you, Naomi. I’ve wanted you since you came to my office and lay down the law about not calling you ‘honey’ and not accepting my donation. You’ve got guts and you’re gorgeous and baby, that is a fucking lethal combination. It stopped me dead in my tracks, and all I’ve wanted was just the chance to be with you. I’d have walked on my knees through broken glass just for one minute of holding your hand, touching that perfect skin. Now that that chance is here, you think I’m going to blow it on some casual one-nighter? No way. No damn way. I want you. Just you, nobody but you. And if you tell me that I have you, then you’re mine and I’m yours, and that’s the fucking end of it.”

  She bit her lip, everything in her body longing to believe him.

  “I just want to be with you and I’m going to take whatever you feel ready to give me.” King touched her lips. “The most important thing…no, scratch that… the only important thing is your recovery. That’s it. Nothing else matters to me, and nothing else should matter to you, either. If that means that we spend the next six months talking over coffee and watching movies and I get to hold you sometimes, I think that’s a pretty fucking good deal since it means you won’t be doing any of that with anybody else. I’ll take that with a smile. You hear me?”

  “Yes.” The word tore from her throat, thick and raw and vulnerable, and he heard it. “I just want to be with you, too. When you said that I’d never see you again after tonight, it scared me to death. I – I don’t want alcohol to lose me one more thing. I don’t want to lose you, Matt.”

  “You won’t, I promise you. Now come here.” He held his arms wide open and she moved in to them now, with no hesitation. Naomi just rested on him, just let herself relax on him. He was warm and steady, and every breath that he took made her sink deeper in to him. Minutes passed, and they felt like seconds.

  With nothing but regret, King drew back slightly now. “It’s getting late. You feel ready for me to take you home? You steady enough to be on your own tonight?”

  She nodded.

  “Good. Let’s go.” He stood up and tugged her to her feet. “Call me when you wake up tomorrow, and I’ll take you for coffee. Sounds good?”

  “Yeah,” she said softly. “Sounds perfect.”

  Chapter Nine

  “So, let me get this straight.” Mirrie shifted in her seat. “King, of the tattoos and scary eyes, is courting you. Like – like a fucking knight from days of yore or something. Yeah?”

  “Yep.”

  “You guys will go for coffee and you’ll talk and he’ll never make a move on you? All chivalrous and gentleman-like? For real?”

  “For real.” Naomi sipped her orange juice. “We’re going to get to know each other better.”

  “Jesus Christ.” Mirrie contemplated this. “I never use this word, and I sure as hell never thought I’d use it to describe Matt Kingston, but that is damn sweet.”

  “I know, right?”

  “Expectations?”

  “Who?” Naomi said. “Me or him?”

  “Either. Both.”

  “Well. I think there’s a pretty clear expectation that we’ll give this a shot when I feel that I’m ready… what that means, I don’t know yet.”

  “Dating?” Mirrie was relentless. “Kissing? Sex?”

  “I don’t know. I – I guess all of the above.”

  Mirrie leaned back. “Then you’ll have to talk to King about what happened.”

  “I know.” Naomi stared at her hands. “I realize that.”

  “Hey,” Mirrie said gently. “No rush, you know. You talk to him when you’re ready, and you can’t force yourself to be ready.�
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  Naomi nodded.

  “And for what it’s worth? I think he’ll be amazing about it. I mean, he’s surprised me so far – and I don’t surprise easy.”

  “I know.” Naomi smiled now, a real smile. “He was incredible last night, and he met me for coffee this afternoon, and we talked for three hours. I mean, I knew he was a good man, but I didn’t see that level of acceptance coming.”

  “You’re damn lucky and you deserve it. So, enjoy him, OK? Take your time, talk to him. And when the time is right, tell him about that night. Yeah?”

  “Yes.”

  **

  “So,” Jax said to King. “You and Naomi left the auction together last night, huh? Went back to your place?”

  “Yeah.” King drank his beer so he didn’t have to talk any more, looked around Dangerous Curves. It was Saturday night so it was packed, of course, and his eyes skimmed over the women, wishing that he was with Naomi. He suspected that his social life was going to undergo some pretty dramatic changes, seeing as he wouldn’t be taking her to bars at any time whatsoever. He still couldn’t believe that she’d had the guts to set foot in Curves for that first meeting.

  “And?” Jax prompted.

  King focused on his friend. “And what?”

  “What, you’re going all shy and coy on us?” Mac said. “Really?”

  King shrugged. “Nothing to tell.”

  The other men all stared at him, totally disbelieving.

  “Nothing?” Aidan asked. “Not one single thing?”

  “Nope.”

  “So.” Mac cocked his blond head at him. “You spent the night together?”

  “Look, it’s not like that with her, OK? It’s – it’s different. We’re taking it slow.”

  “Oh. Oh, right.” Jax grinned as he saw the chance for some payback here. “So you didn’t fuck her?”

  King glared. “Watch your goddamn mouth, Hamill.”

  “I guess not, huh? Are you here tonight to get laid in one of the crash rooms ‘cause she didn’t do you last night?”

  “Jax!” King howled, losing his cool at roughly warp-speed. “I said shut the fuck up!”

  Mac twigged to what Jax was doing and happily joined in. “So, what are you saying, man? That you’re dating Naomi? Like, exclusively?”