Banged: A Blue Collar Bad Boys Book

by Brill Harper

  I shouldn’t have slept with her. How could I not know it would ruin everything? Those hours in her bed were amazing, but it’s the months in her life I need more, and I screwed that up by thinking with my cock.

  “Excuse me,” Hillary says icily as she gets up to use the restroom, leaving me with her folks and a fussy baby.

  “Ma’am, may I?” I ask, indicating to Kenzie. Mrs. Bloom doesn’t look convinced it’s a good idea, but once Kenzie is in my arms, she stops her little cries and settles in.

  “You have a way with her,” Mr. Bloom says.

  “We have an understanding.” I shift her to the other arm. “She twists me around her baby pinkie finger and I let her.”

  Mr. And Mrs. Bloom chuckle and the tension in the room lightens until Hillary returns. I’m not good at emotions, but I can read hers pretty well, and she’s pissed and uncomfortable and it’s my fault.

  I knew I was falling for her. I should have known there would never be such a thing as casual sex when it came to the two of us. Damn. I don’t know what she wants from me. When I agree with her that we’re just friends, she acts like I’m being an ass. But what am I supposed to do? Shout from the rooftops that I have loved her since the first day I saw her moving in? She is the one who wants to keep it platonic.

  This is why I never wanted to get involved. I was fine by myself. I was happy living my bachelor life and not having anyone to answer to.

  We don’t speak the whole trip back. The meeting went well as far as mending the rift in their family. I don’t think it will be easy, but if she and her parents try, I think they can get past it. I know how hurt she is, but I saw the pictures on their mantel. They love their daughter. Parenting just doesn’t come with a manual and people are human and screw up.

  When we get to the apartment, she stops me before I come in. “I’m really tired. I think I’m going to turn in early. Thanks for the ride to my parents’.”

  The ride? She thinks I went with her so she didn’t have to take a bus?

  She’s got me all knotted up inside. “You want help with Kenzie’s bath? I can make you dinner, since you’re tired.”

  The naked longing in her eyes doesn’t match her words. “No, thank you. You’ve been such a good friend to us, but I really don’t want to take advantage of you anymore. You should maybe go out, grab a beer with the guys. Have one for me.”

  Have a beer with the guys? I think I’ve done that once since I met her. I don’t even remember the last time I didn’t spend an evening in her living room. “Sure, yeah. Hang out with the guys. Have a good night.”

  I don’t know why she is doing this. Her face doesn’t match what she’s saying. I could guilt my way in to her house. I could probably even get back in her bed tonight. I’d love to slide back in between her thighs and bury my face in her neck and forget this strange day ever happened. But I can see that she wants to be strong. Sex won’t fix this. Not since sex is what screwed it up.

  I never should have let myself fall for her. Not when I know I’m so fucked up and she deserves so much more. I think about that as I stare at the white, unadorned walls of my apartment. For the first time, I don’t let myself into her house when I hear through the walls that she is up with Kenzie all night.

  I don’t know what happened to the grumpy fucker I used to be who didn’t let anyone too close and who didn’t let himself care. It takes everything I have not to break down the wall between our apartments. That’s where my life is now.

  The life I’m too chickenshit to really live.

  Chapter Nine

  Hillary

  One week later

  I JIGGLE THE LOCK ON the mailbox until my key finally comes out. God, I hate these boxes. And this hall. The dingy green carpet smells like moss and tobacco.

  “You look like shit.”

  I squeeze my eyes closed tightly. That is not the thing I want to hear from Mac ever, but especially not after we’ve gone a week without seeing each other. Despite his words, his voice settles over me like scented bathwater, easing and relaxing everything that’s all bunched up inside. How is this a thing? Where does he get this power from? It isn’t fair.

  “Thanks.” I hope my sarcasm came through loud and clear.

  “Are you getting any sleep at all?”

  I pocket my keys and turn slowly, willing my heart to slow down. It feels an awful lot like standing at my high school locker when a senior I had a crush on asked me if I had notes from class that day. It turns out what he wanted was for me to do his assignment, but I will never forget that feeling of the metal locker behind my back and the object of my affection leaning into me, using all his evil boy powers to turn my insides to mush and legs to jelly.

  Are all men devils?

  “I sleep some,” I answer.

  Mac leans down and checks out Kenzie in the baby pack strapped to my chest. Actually, I think he might have just smelled her head. “She’s napping now. Why aren’t you napping? That’s what the books say to do. You need to take better care of yourself.”

  Funny thing about napping babies—that’s the only time I have to get anything at all done. I decide against snapping off his head, though. He’s trying to be nice, I think. “She’s been so fussy lately. She sleeps best strapped to me when I’m walking around.”

  He nods, resigned. I know the Mr. Fix-It in him wants to step in. Make me dinner. Take care of things. He presses his lips together tightly and keeps it to himself.

  I’m doing him a favor. He should be out there meeting women and watching sports, not taking care of babies and reluctantly relieving women of their virginity. Okay, he was never really reluctant about it. In fact, he didn’t seem to have a problem with fucking me like he owned me.

  Now is not the time to let my mind wander to that night. The way he filled me so full that I didn’t know where I ended and he began.

  Stop it, Hillz. Not only is this line of thought inappropriate, but it’s full of bad clichés.

  “Do you need anything, Hillary?”

  I shake my head quickly. “No, no thank you. We’re doing just fine.”

  Without you.

  Except we’re not. I miss him so much. Kenzie misses him.

  But I can’t tell him.

  His jaw clenches tight. “Okay, well, see you around.”

  He pushes past me and practically flies out the door onto the street.

  This is what is best. Being with him all the time made me weaker. It made me want things. It’s better to lose him now than later when he could really tear out my heart. And that of my daughter.

  I tell myself this all the way back up to my apartment. The breath is sawing in and out of my throat as I try to hold back the tears. I’m just tired. If I got a good night of sleep, I would see how melodramatic I’m being. He’s just a guy.

  He’s just a great guy.

  The best guy.

  Who am I kidding? He’s the only guy.

  The thought crushes me as I rest my head on my apartment door before I open it. Mac Stryker is the best man I know. I’m hurting him, and he’s letting me because that is the kind of man he is. He won’t push for what he wants. Not that what he wants is me, but I know that our friendship was comforting to him. I gave him someone to save when he was feeling pretty low.

  That’s all.

  I need to get into my apartment. The tears are already blurring my vision.

  “You had me fooled.”

  I gasp and whirl around, surprised to find him standing right behind me.

  “How long have you been standing there?” Why does he seem to have a knack for finding me crying in the hall outside my apartment?

  “How long have you been crying over me?”

  I wipe my face with the back of my hand. “You know better than anyone that I cry too much when I’m tired. I’m not crying over you—”

  He takes two steps and frames my face in his hands. “Here all week I thought you just turned off your feelings. Didn’t want me around anymore. I won
dered how you could do it so easily. But you’re crying over me.”

  “I’m not—”

  He crushes his lips over mine, though he’s careful not to smoosh the baby between us. I fight the onslaught for about, oh, .02 seconds, and then I give in. He angles his head, deepening the kiss. He tastes like coffee and spearmint and something else. Something addictive and as good for me as it is bad for me.

  I cling to his shirt and whimper into the kiss.

  “I’ve missed you so much,” he says, moving down to suck on my neck, nipping my earlobe. Then he leans in and takes a big whiff of the baby’s head. I knew it. He was smelling her earlier.

  I don’t know how to fight feelings for a man who smells my baby’s head. I don’t think I can. “I guess we should talk.”

  His penetrating gaze makes my knees weak. “I guess we should.”

  “We haven’t in over a week. It’s been hard. I should have...I don’t know why I didn’t...”

  “Okay,” he says simply. “I should have too.”

  “I want to take a shower,” I blurt out, because of course I do. I always blurt things out in front of him. I don’t know why thinking first is such a problem. “I mean I want to take a shower before we talk. I feel...well, the baby threw up. On me, as usual. As I’m sure you can smell. And I just feel like before we talk I should clean up and get my bearings. Maybe then I’ll stop rambling also. But I make no promises.”

  Mac snorts but refrains from laughing out loud. “I’ll take Kenzie. You take a shower. Then we’ll talk.”

  The way he says talk sends the blood in my veins to sizzling. Down, girl.

  “Right,” I say breathlessly. “Talk.”

  Of course, as my life goes, two hours, one shower, one more throw up, some hastily eaten cheese crackers and we still haven’t talked. But he’s bouncing an almost sleeping Kenzie around on his chest, and I’ve changed my shirt and hidden all my dirty clothes under the bed in case our talk ends up in there eventually. That’s about as good as I can expect things to get right now.

  I think of the life I thought I would be leading just a little over a year ago. I was going to be a career girl. I wanted to work downtown and own a penthouse apartment and date fabulous men in suits while I ate expensive caviar and drank some kind of signature cocktail I’d yet to decide on. Something old fashioned, I thought. Something Ingrid Bergman would sip.

  Instead, I smell like puke. I rarely sleep. I don’t converse with adults often. I drink fake wine. I’m in love with an out-of-work cop who doesn’t know it and a two-month-old tyrant who pulls my hair when I profess my undying love to her.

  I wouldn’t trade a minute of it.

  But I need to handle the cop situation.

  “She’s asleep.” He gets her in the crib without waking her. “Maybe I should tell you to go to sleep too. You might need rest more than—”

  “Please don’t go.”

  He looks like I just punched him in the gut. “All right.”

  “Sit, please.” I gesture to the couch. I join him, though it’s not like it used to be, when the space between us didn’t seem too likely to zap us like an electric fence if we didn’t leave enough room. I inhale and exhale slowly. We’re both sitting up with great posture staring ahead at...well, nothing. But I can see our reflection in the black screen of the television. We look like two people who’ve never met.

  I need to say something. “So, we had sex.”

  Long pause.

  “Yep. We did.” His words come out gravelly, like it’s been a long time since he’s spoken.

  Long pause.

  “It was my first time, but as far as I could tell, it was pretty much...mind-blowing.”

  Long pause.

  “Yep.”

  Long pause.

  “Well, good talk.” I start to get up, but his arm shoots in front of me and I settle back in.

  “This is ridiculous,” he says. “What are we doing? This is us. You and me. People live their whole lives wishing for the relationship we had before we even had mind-blowing sex, and now we’re acting like uncomfortable strangers. And I hate it.”

  “I think I’m so afraid of losing you that I’m going to lose you.”

  “Please, Hillary. Look at me, not the floor, me.” I slowly turn to find his gaze. “You will never lose me.”

  My blood is roaring in my ears. “I want to trust you. I really do. You’ve done nothing but be wonderful to me since we met, but I’m damaged.”

  “You’re not damaged.”

  “I am. I spent my whole life thinking life was safe, and then in one week, I learned I couldn’t trust the two people who were supposed to love me no matter what. I didn’t enjoy being dumped by the asshole, but it was nothing like being dumped by my family. And then you came along and were perfect and I’m afraid to ask life for what I want because now I have so much more to lose.” My gaze flicks across the room. “So much more.”

  He takes my hand. “I’m not perfect. I’m a fucking disaster. And I don’t trust myself, so I guess I can’t figure out why I think you should. But I want you to. I want you to trust me and I want Kenzie to trust me. And the two of you are the only things I want. And I don’t feel like I deserve you. But I want you. Hillary, I love you.”

  All the air is knocked out of me. “Like a friend loves a friend.”

  “Yes.”

  Mac

  SHE STARTS PULLING into herself. “Like a friend loves a friend. And a man loves a woman,” I say quickly. Shit. Trust me to screw this up. I fucking hate feelings. Shit. “I love you in every way. I have never felt this way before. And I have no idea what I’m doing.”

  Hillary lets out a watery laugh. “I have no idea what I’m doing either.”

  My throat is thick with feeling. I can’t believe I said it. It was like cutting the last wire on an explosive. Now that it’s out there, done, and nothing exploded, I don’t know what to do with myself. “I talked about you at my group meeting this week,” I confess.

  “You did? The same group where you usually don’t talk at all?”

  “Yeah. It was the first time I opened up to those assholes about anything, and they told me to stop being a pussy and tell you how I feel.”

  Her eyebrows meet above her nose. “That’s an interesting therapy group you have.”

  “They were right. I should have just told you last week when I woke up that the nightmare was the same one I’ve been having since the bomb killed Ricky. Instead, I tried to act normal, failed, and made you think I was ghosting on you. I have PTSD, and I’m sure you already know that, but I didn’t want to tell you. I like being someone you rely on and I was...” Damn, I hate feelings. “I was scared that if you saw how raw I am, you wouldn’t feel safe with me. And so, I ended up somehow making you feel unsafe with me anyway.”

  She nods. “Okay, but then instead of telling you to stop ghosting, I let my anxiety about trusting people win and talked myself into thinking that it would be better to not let you get close again, so I started pushing you away.”

  “So we were both being dumbasses.”

  “Basically.” She reaches her hand out and grabs mine. “I’m so sorry you still dream about that explosion.”

  “I’m sorry I’m not the guy who tells you shit you need to know about how I’m feeling.” Look at that. I did it. I said stuff. Important stuff. And the world didn’t end.

  “So we’re communicating now? I can tell you anything?” she asks.

  “Of course you can.”

  “Okay, then I should tell you that I really, really liked having sex with you.”

  I squeeze her hand, remembering her moans and the way she came, squeezing around me so hot and so wet. My dick gets instahard. “Yeah, that much I already know. You were a wildcat in there.”

  She punches my arm. “I’m being serious. It was worth waiting for. Even if I ended up having a baby before I had sex for the first time.”

  “We should do it again sometime. But none of that friends wi
th benefits bullshit. This is the real deal for me, Hillz.”

  She bites her lip and looks at the front door like she wants to bolt. “I’m still insecure.”

  I push the hair that has escaped the elastic band off her face. “I’m still fucked in the head.”

  She gets this little smile like she knows a secret, a womanly secret. I understand that Mona Lisa painting people talk about a whole lot more now. When a woman gets that smile when she’s looking at you, you know what it means to be a man.

  “When you said you thought we should bang again, did you mean tonight? Because I’m willing to skip the tiny houses marathon if you have some more things you’d like to show me.”

  Fuck me. My cock is rock hard and ready. But part of me, the asshole, remembers she’s been up all night all by herself the last few nights. “You need to sleep.”

  She swings her legs over my lap and wiggles her cute little toes. “I’d rather get laid.”

  My mouth waters remembering the way she tastes, and all my nerves are on high alert waiting to feel her skin against mine. But no. “I’ve heard the two of you over here the last two nights. You need to rest.”

  “You’re no fun.” Her feet move over my cock, rubbing it through my pants. “I’ll sleep later.”

  It’s tempting. God, it’s tempting. But she’s got purple skin under her eyes, and she yawns every two minutes. I have to push her legs back to the floor so I don’t jump her. “I’m going to make you dinner and then you are going to sleep. When the baby wakes up, you can feed her, then I’m taking her back, and you are going back to sleep.”

  She groans when I get up.

  “Kraft?”

  “God, no. If I never have macaroni and cheese again, it will be too soon.”

  I wonder if she’ll change her mind the next time she’s pregnant. I can’t fucking wait to find out.

  Holy shit. I want to get her pregnant.

  I want it all.

  It occurs to me that she didn’t tell me she loves me back.