Breaking Free (Steele Ridge Book 5)

by Adrienne Giordano

  She shoved her leggings down, but they got caught on her boots and… “Dammit!”

  “How much do you like these pants?”

  “Why?”

  “Because if I don’t get inside you in the next ten seconds, I won't make it.”

  “Tear them off.”

  “Excellent.” He gripped the waistband of the leggings and…ripped.

  “Oh. My. Goodness! So hot.”

  He cracked up. “I know. It’s crazy. I’ve never done that before. I’ll buy you new ones. Maybe a whole bunch because that was wicked fun.”

  Her underwear went next. She’d just bought those from Brynne’s shop and they weren’t cheap, but oh well. Sacrifices needed to be made.

  Gage kicked out of his shorts, reaching for the drawer of the side table as Micki stood in her childhood living room, naked as a jay and wearing boots.

  She lifted one foot. “The boots are sexy, no?”

  He dug through the drawer, found his wallet and plucked out a condom. “Found it!”

  “You’re such a Boy Scout.”

  “Actually, I was never a Boy Scout. I play outside the lines too much.”

  “Really?”

  “Yep.”

  He got the condom on, stripped his shirt off, and—oh, oh, oh—his chest was perfection. Even more so than she’d imagined. Hidden underneath his loose shirts hid cut, rock-solid muscle, and she ran her hands over his pecs, into the smattering of golden hairs. She’d never get tired of touching him. Never.

  He looked down at her hands moving over him. “Right here?”

  “Yep.”

  “Against the wall?”

  “Absolutely.”

  He picked her up again and she wrapped her legs around him, felt the press of his erection on the inside of her thigh and let out a gasp. A man. A real man. No casual acquaintance she’d gone out with a time or two in a mad attempt for affection.

  In just a few days, Gage Barber knew and understood her. As scary as that was.

  “Thank you.”

  “Sweetheart, I haven’t done anything yet.”

  “Yes, you have.”

  Then he was inside her, pushing into her, and she gasped again.

  “Sorry.”

  He started to pull out and she gripped his shoulders. “No. It’s perfect. You’re perfect.”

  “Damn, Micki, you feel good.”

  She arched her back and squeezed her thighs and he pushed deeper, rocking his hips as she found his rhythm and…so good. So, so good.

  They moved together, figuring it out, experimenting with touches and thrusts, exploring with hands and tongues, finding the hot buttons while her belly coiled into a tight, fierce ball. She swung her head back and forth and got lightheaded for her efforts. “If you stop, I’ll kill you.”

  He pumped harder, holding her against that wall, damned near splitting her in two, but she wanted more of it. More of the closeness, the few minutes of feeling that emotional connection she’d been missing.

  He drew back, met her gaze while a playful smile lit up his face and…that’s it…too much. Her body, every inch of her splintered. She cried out as flashes of color, a rainbow bursting, filled her vision.

  Captain America kept up his pace. She hung on, rocking her hips harder, giving as good as she got until he thrust one last time, his body tensing as the orgasm tore into him.

  He collapsed against her, his chest heaving, but he held her against the wall as her body went limp. He drew long, exhausted breaths and she wrapped him in her arms, kissing his shoulder. All that hard work they’d done.

  Together.

  Gage braced Micki against the wall, hoping to hell his knees didn’t give out, but with the way he was panting, they might wind up in a face-plant. Oooh—eee the girl had given him a workout.

  Damn, that was fun.

  “Tell me,” she whispered in his ear, “we just did that.”

  “Oh, yeah. We did it.”

  She pinched his arm.

  “Ow! What was that for?”

  “Sorry. I had to make sure it wasn’t, like, the best dream I’ve ever had.”

  “Typically, people pinch themselves. Not others.”

  But what did he care who she pinched? As long as he got to do this with her again, he had no complaints. Not a one.

  Still holding her, and being careful not to move too quickly and give himself a head rush, he straightened. The fact that he hadn’t fallen over in the middle of that very active screwing was a damned miracle.

  Things were definitely looking up.

  Regretfully, he slid out of her, but couldn’t help kissing her. Then doing it again as he dragged one hand down her thigh, her skin so soft under his fingers. “You’re good for my mood.”

  “Ditto, but you can put me down, you know.”

  “Maybe I like holding you.”

  “Yes, but eventually, you'll have to let me go.”

  He hoped to hell not. “Maybe you have a point.”

  Three seconds later, her feet were on the floor and Gage made quick work of dealing with the condom while Micki headed upstairs to the bathroom.

  Miss Joan’s big grandfather clock chimed, the cascading bells echoing throughout the house. Eight o’clock already. After getting home and squatting at the piano, he’d lost time.

  Micki swung around the bannister and stood at the base of the stairs, her hair back in that sexy, messy-on-purpose look. “I can’t believe that old clock still works.”

  “Yep. For some reason, it only goes off every twelve hours. Not that I’m complaining. I get headaches and the chimes would make me nuts. Speaking of which, I'm starving and my head hurts. Have you eaten?”

  “Nope. I figured I’d stop in at the B and grab something after I talked to you.”

  She hit him with a smug grin. I did that. Or, at least he’d helped put that grin there.

  “Good. How about I buy you dinner? I’ll take you home after that. We’ll throw the bike in my truck.”

  “Um.” She gestured to the scraps of her clothing on the floor. “We should have thought twice about shredding my pants and underwear.”

  Shit. What the hell had he been thinking? She had no damned clothes now. And as thin as she was, his stuff wouldn't fit her. Totally irresponsible on his part.

  He held up his hands. “Let’s not panic.”

  She slid on her bra and put her hands on her hips. “Easy for you to say. I’m the one standing here in a bra and boots.”

  Okay. Now that was funny. The two of them, at the exact same time, burst out laughing. What a pair.

  “Jeez, Micki, I’m sorry. Should I run up to the house and grab you some clothes or something?”

  “No! Are you kidding? What if Jonah sees you rummaging through my stuff?”

  He hadn’t thought about that. And on a Sunday night, all the shops in town were closed.

  “Evie.” Micki grabbed her phone from the wallet/purse thing she’d dumped next to the couch. “I’ll get her to bring me replacements.”

  A ball of panic unfurled, stabbing him behind the eyes. Not that he was ashamed of whatever this was with Micki, but really? She wanted to clue her family in before they even knew if it was going anywhere?

  He touched her arm. “Uh, you sure about that?”

  “Not in this lifetime, but if I go walking into my mother’s house wearing a pair of men’s sweats, I think it’ll stir some controversy.” She waved him off. “We can trust Evie. I’ll just have her bring me something and we’ll buy her dinner. How’s that?”

  Risky. That’s how it was. For a lot of reasons. When Reid found out about Gage and Micki, Gage wanted to be the one to tell him. To let him know that this wasn’t a quick lay. A fast meaningless hookup. What exactly he’d describe it as was lost on him, but at least on his part, it wasn’t any of those things.

  “Unless,” Micki said, “you don’t want…”

  And the way she looked at him, her eyes a little wary and distant and…shutting him down. Snap
ping back to her guarded habits.

  “No,” he said. “I’m great. I don’t want your family hearing about us from the town criers. You know how this place is. They won’t talk about me. They’ll talk about you. It has to come from me. Or you. If you’re comfortable with calling Evie, so am I.”

  “I trust her. There’s girl code and then there’s sister code. If I know her at all, she'll love this.” She poked at her phone and held it to her ear. “Evie! It’s me…Micki.”

  As if her sister wouldn't know her?

  “Can I ask a huge favor?”

  15

  Twenty minutes later, Evie strolled to the front door carrying a La Belle Style bag from Brynne’s shop.

  Of course, because Gage’s luck was shit on toast lately, Evie had already been down at the B, having dinner with—you guessed it—Reid and Brynne. Rather than race home, she’d had Brynne take her down to the shop and bought Micki a pair of jeans.

  And underwear.

  Jesus. What a clusterfuck.

  All under the guise that Micki had “fallen” off Jonah’s bike and tore her pants.

  And underwear.

  Clusterfuck.

  Who the hell would believe that?

  Not Reid. That was for sure. But they’d deal with that later.

  Gage opened the door and Evie grinned up at him, all classic Steele smart-ass, and his face got hot.

  This family. When was the last time someone had actually made him blush?

  “Don’t say it,” he said.

  Cruising by him, she offered up a little finger wave. “My lips are zipped. But, holy jumpin’ Jesus! If Reid finds out about this he’ll go crazy!”

  “Will you tell him?”

  “Not me.”

  “Brynne?”

  “Pfft. She knows my brother is on the brink of insane. This would kick him right over the edge.”

  “Any day now!” Micki called from the bathroom.

  La Belle Style bag in hand, Evie strode down the short hallway and banged on the door. “I’ve got the goods.”

  Gage squeezed his eyes shut and let out a grunt. What a crew. The whole lot of them.

  Micki cracked open the bathroom door and stuck her hand out. “Evie, you’re awesome. Thank you.”

  The bathroom door closed again. “You’re welcome.” She held a fist in the air. “Sisters unite! I made sure to get underwear that was still in the stockroom. In the packaging. If you know what I mean.”

  “Oh, man,” Gage muttered. “I don’t need to hear this.”

  Really, thinking about Micki sliding into underwear someone had tried on—because of his inability to control himself—gave him a good dose of guilt.

  “You good?” Evie asked. “I have to get back to the B before Reid starts asking too many questions. If I’m there, it’ll take the heat off Brynne.”

  Micki emerged from the bathroom encased in a pair of skin-tight jeans that made her legs look twelve miles long, and Gage started to rethink dinner out.

  “Ooh,” Evie said, “perfect fit. I knew it.”

  “I owe you one.”

  “Nah. It was fun. And now I have a secret about you two. Total blackmail material.”

  Blackmail. Micki’s face fell. Everything literally drooping.

  That one word—blackmail—had changed her. The whole of her adult life spent under its threat.

  Sensing trouble, Evie locked her fingers around Micki’s arms. “You know I’m kidding, right? I didn’t mean it. I swear, I’d never…” Still hanging on to Micki, she swung back to Gage. “Guys, seriously, I was kidding.”

  Fix this. Someone had to because Micki was knocked mute and poor Evie's skin had turned five shades whiter. Gage approached them, his eyes on Micki, silently reassuring her that no, her baby sister wasn’t threatening her.

  He dropped one hand on each of their shoulders. “It’s fine. We’re in this together, right?”

  “Right,” Evie said.

  Micki held his gaze and nodded.

  “We’ll take care of each other, right?”

  “Right,” Evie repeated.

  Something in that statement, the ferocity behind it, prompted Micki from her fog. She finally looked at her sister, wrenched one arm free and threw it around Evie. “I love you,” she said. “I know you’d never hurt me.”

  Well, damn, if that didn’t beat all. Tough Micki Steele letting her guard down twice in one night.

  “Ladies,” Gage said, “I’d love to stand around and watch this big family moment, but I’m starved. What do you say I buy you both dinner? We’ll face Reid together.”

  “I’m in!” Evie said.

  Micki didn’t release her sister, but backed up enough to face Gage, holding his stare for a long minute. “Me too,” she said. “I’m in.”

  First thing Monday morning, Micki made the call.

  The one to Phil. Originally, her plan had been to tell him over the phone that she wouldn’t be on that plane with him today, but when she heard his voice, the nonthreatening Phil voice, a bit of her resolve disintegrated. After all, she’d spent the past ten Christmases with the Flynn family. He hadn’t needed to do that. He could have left her and Tomas to themselves, sitting alone in their apartments. Instead, he’d welcomed them into his home.

  For that, she’d always be grateful. The dichotomy of Phil. Good Phil versus evil Phil.

  Good Phil kept her comfortable, mostly, and bad Phil? Well, he kept her pinned down. Cornered. Fearful of life outside the bubble he’d created for her.

  All of it played in her mind, confusing her, twisting her thoughts. After everything, how could she care about this man?

  Easy. He’d been her family when she needed one. The deciding factor when he requested she meet with him. To talk.

  And she caved.

  She spent the bike ride into town rationalizing it. Closure. That’s what she needed when it came to Phil. To be done once and for all.

  Phil had wanted to meet alone. Of course he did. Alone, he could do his black magic and emotionally work her over. Refusing to let that happen, she’d insisted on meeting at the Triple B. At 9:00 a.m., when the morning crowd would still be strong and reinforcements could be found.

  She paused at the door, gripped the handle, and held on, allowing the cold metal to center her. Ten minutes. That’s all she’d give him. She’d tell him she wasn’t going back and that would be that. Simple.

  “Good morning.”

  Dammit.

  Life with Phil. Always uncharted. She glanced back, found him behind her in one of his five-thousand-dollar suits. An intimidation tactic. He’d admitted as much to her years ago. People found it hard to say no to a man who was smart enough to afford Brioni suits.

  “Good morning.” She opened the door.

  “You really want to do this inside?”

  I sure do.

  “Yes. It won’t take long.”

  “I don’t like the sound of that, Mikayla.”

  Well, it’s about to get worse.

  Micki stepped into the B where the thick morning crowd huddled at the end of the counter and an aroma of baking blueberry scones and cinnamon mingled with fresh brewed coffee. She’d never been a fan of coffee, but right now, standing in this spot, where life as a normal person lay just within her reach, she might have to try one of Randi’s lattes.

  “Hey, Micki,” Randi called from behind the espresso machine.

  “Hi, Randi.”

  “Get you something?”

  “Not yet. Thanks. Do you mind if we sit for a few minutes?”

  Randi eyed Phil in a way that made Micki think Britt must have filled her in. Perfect. Another who now knew her secrets.

  She couldn’t worry about what Randi thought of her. Not now, anyway. This meeting required her full attention.

  Ten minutes and I’m free.

  Free of Phil and Vegas. Free to start a new life. And if a hunky former Green Beret were involved, even better.

  “Hello, Mikayla.”

&
nbsp; Mr. Greene, King of the Gossips, tossed a wave her way and, cane in hand, shuffled into the adjoining bar, where the overflow from the coffee shop spread.

  Assuming the bar area would be less noisy and not as crowded, she led the way, commandeering the table in the back corner. The one she’d sat at with her family on Friday night. That alone would bolster her confidence. Silly? Maybe. But at this point, inspiration came in different forms.

  “I’m having breakfast,” Phil said.

  The man never ate breakfast. Never. Today? Breakfast. Again, she should have prepared for it. The master manipulator wanted to rattle her, throw her off her game. He knew she wanted to get this over with, so he’d draw it out by holding his finger on the button that brought Micki to heel.

  “I can’t stay long,” she said.

  “We’ll see.”

  Phil went back to the coffee shop for his food while Mr. Greene and Mrs. Royce—who had to be 120 by now— argued over a new ordinance Grif wanted the town council to vote on. As in most small towns, change didn’t come easily. From what Micki overheard, the locals enjoyed the new wave of tourism and the economic boost, but they didn’t so much love the rules that came with it.

  Progress. Always a bitch.

  Phil returned, setting a muffin and a steaming mug of coffee on the table. Taking his time, he slid his jacket off and gingerly hung it on the back of the vacant chair beside him, adjusting the shoulders as he did so. One thing about Phil, he took great pride in his appearance. The minute his butt hit his seat, Micki leaned forward. Now or never.

  “I didn’t want to do this over the phone,” she said.

  “I’m glad for that. Surely, after all I’ve done for you, I deserve more than a phone call.”

  This man had hijacked her life. Robbed her of her family and the love that came with it, and he had the nerve, the absolute balls, to sit here and lecture her?

  Of course he did. A week ago, before she’d spent time with her family and Gage and experienced what true affection was, she’d have fallen for Phil’s machinations.

  No more.

  She worked up a vision of Gage, so good and honest, imagined him standing behind her, shoring her up.

  “If we’re being fair,” she said, “I’ve done everything you asked. You also made a lot of money because of me. I’d say we’re about even.”