Crashed (Entangled Indulgence)

by Sherilee Gray

  Maybe he’d let her off the hook.

  They walked in, and she threw her keys on the coffee table.

  Deacon shut the door behind them. “Your text earlier, it was about my offer?”

  No beating about the bush then. “Let’s get one thing clear here. It’s not an offer. An offer implies I have a choice. This is blackmail. Don’t kid yourself it’s anything else.”

  His broad shoulders shifted, causing the muscles in his chest to bunch and move in a way that made her belly flip. His eyes narrowed. “You can always say no. No one’s holding a gun to your head, Alex.”

  She snorted. “You sure about that?”

  He took a step toward her. “Why are you resisting this? I know you want me.” He made a low, rough sound in the back of his throat. “The way you responded to me that night. You haven’t forgotten, have you? God, you were so wet, hungry for my cock. You shook so hard when I put my mouth on you, when I nipped your perfect little clit.”

  A throbbing pulse started between her thighs. Her body still remembered every damn touch, every rough, dirty word he’d whispered in her ear, against her skin. She could almost feel his mouth on her. And just like that, she was wet for him. “It meant nothing.” She moved away. “We’ve already made this mistake before.” The beer had loosened her tongue. Jesus, why was she going there now? Because it still hurts like hell. “Surely there are other women you can blackmail into screwing you. Why me all of a sudden?”

  His hands clenched and unclenched at his sides, his only outward sign of emotion. “First, it doesn’t need to mean anything. We’re talking about sex, Alex, not marriage.”

  Oh, yeah, that was a low blow considering their history.

  “And second, I didn’t get nearly enough time with you. Not even close…” She shook her head, afraid of what he’d say next but desperate to hear it all the same. “I want to taste every inch of that hot little body. I want to fuck you every way possible, as often as I like. I want you to come against my mouth, around my fingers, my cock.” He sucked in a ragged breath. “Is that a good enough reason for you?”

  She took a step back before she realized what she was doing. God, she wanted everything he’d just said, all of it. “Deacon…” She didn’t know how to finish. What the hell did you say after that?

  But then he gritted his teeth, suddenly looking pissed. “The first time, all those years ago…I was young. We were young. I had plans, and you didn’t fit into them. I’m sorry I hurt you. But we were just kids.”

  Oh, age was the issue now, timing? Neither of those things had mattered when he’d proposed to Emily a few weeks after popping her cherry. He’d run from Axle Alley so fast the only thing she’d had to remember him by were the skid marks he’d left on the road as he’d sped away.

  He didn’t get it, how much he’d crushed her. She didn’t think he ever would. She hadn’t fit his plans then, and she sure as hell didn’t now. She’d been good enough for a quick fuck and some mild amusement, but when it came time to settle down, he’d chosen the complete opposite of her. In his eyes, she would never be good enough. “Deflower any more virgins lately?”

  He hissed out a frustrated breath. “No, you were the only one.”

  “Lucky me.”

  He moved in, crowding her, out of patience. “Have you made your decision?”

  If she had any pride at all, she’d tell him to go screw himself, but her body was more than happy with the idea of handing itself over to this man. To let him use her as he liked in exchange for keeping their garage. God, she was pathetic. “I’ll do it.”

  He smiled and looked so much like his teenage self, her heart hurt. “Good choice.”

  She crossed her arms. “As soon as the three months are up, it’s over, right?”

  “That was the agreement.”

  The guy was giving her frostbite. He’d use her until he’d had his fill and then move on to the next without a backward glance. “I have one more condition.”

  His gaze sharpened. “Name it.”

  “I want you to sign the building over to Piper and Rusty.”

  “When you’ve fulfilled your end of the bargain, and proven to me this business is solid, I’ll be happy to.”

  She had no doubt in three months the business would be more than solid. “Well…good, then.”

  He ran his thumb across her lower lip. “I have a condition of my own.”

  “What more could you want?”

  He leaned in, buried his nose in her hair, and inhaled. “God, I love the way you smell.” His lips brushed her skin when he spoke, and she had to fight not to turn in to him, not to seek out that amazing mouth. “Exclusivity. No one touches you but me. And I want you on the pill, no condoms.”

  She was struggling to breathe. “I’m already on the pill.” This was so weird, talking about this stuff like a business transaction, no emotions involved—not on his part, at least. “I’ve never had sex without a rubber. Does that suit you?”

  He dipped his head. “I’m clear as well.”

  She wanted to take a step back, to get some breathing room. It felt like he’d sucked every bit of oxygen from her tiny apartment.

  His fingers squeezed her hips. “I have a dinner tomorrow night. You’ll be coming with me.”

  Then his hands were everywhere, stroking her skin, gripping her hip, then moving up to run through her hair. She couldn’t take much more. “Fine.”

  “I’ll pick you up at eight.”

  “I’d rather meet you somewhere. I don’t want Rusty or Piper seeing us together and getting the wrong idea.”

  He looked like he wanted to argue but fought the impulse. “You can meet me at my apartment.”

  There was no warning, no lead-up, he just leaned in and kissed her. His firm, warm mouth landed on hers, and she was defenseless against the onslaught. His tongue slipped between her lips and moved over hers with slow, deep licks. Her sex contracted with each caress, making her hot, wetter in an instant.

  He gripped her hips and brought her up against him, grinding his erection into her. A low moan slipped past his lips. “You’re so goddamn perfect, Alex.” His hands moved to her ass, squeezing, and pulled her in tighter, lifting her slightly so she could feel him right where she wanted him.

  He found the rip in her jeans just below her ass cheek, and the rough pads of his fingers grazed her bare skin, making her gasp. She wanted nothing more than to wrap her legs around him and grind on that massive bulge in his pants until she got herself off. It felt too good. Deacon felt too good.

  Things were getting out of control. Yeah, she’d agreed to be his human sex toy, and despite his being a complete asshole, she was desperate to have him inside her. But that desperation was enough to give her the strength to push him back. She needed to get her feelings under control before they took this any farther, and the alcohol wasn’t helping. “Whoa. Hold up.”

  The only light inside her place came from the streetlights shining through her windows. Deacon was mainly in shadow, but she could still see his strong profile, the square jaw, the straight nose, the way his green eyes glinted through the darkness, intent on her. “What is it?” He was breathing hard.

  She put some distance between them. “Our first date is tomorrow. This deal doesn’t start until then.”

  His expression darkened. “You’re serious?”

  “Absolutely.” She crossed her arms so he wouldn’t see her hands shaking.

  He cursed, his chest rising and falling with each ragged breath. “You can turn it off just like that?”

  “Looks that way.”

  He ran a hand through his mussed hair. She couldn’t even remember having run her hands through it. But she obviously had. That’s how out of control Deacon made her. Right then she’d never been more terrified of a single person in her entire life, and that was saying something. He was dangerous. Doing this was stupid, reckless, but what choice did she have?

  That steely control dropped into place. “I guess I’ll
leave you alone then.”

  She followed him to the door. One thing had been playing on her mind, and before she could stop herself, she blurted, “And the same goes for you.”

  He stopped and turned to face her, brow raised.

  “Exclusivity.”

  His expression darkened again, and he smiled. “You’re more than enough for me, Alex.”

  She hated herself for asking but had to. “What about Blondie?”

  His brows shot up. “Who?”

  “The Barbie you had hanging off your arm.”

  He chuckled, then wrapped his fingers around the back of her neck and pulled her in close. “You mean Candice?” He shook his head. “You have nothing to worry about there.”

  She shrugged and tried to step back. He wouldn’t let her. “I’m not worried.”

  “No?”

  “No. I just don’t like the idea of sloppy seconds. You know how it is. Why was your office door locked?” she said before she could stop herself. Damn third beer.

  “Was it? I didn’t realize.”

  She narrowed her eyes.

  “I wasn’t fucking her over my desk, if that’s what you’re asking me.”

  That’s exactly what she was asking. There was always the wall, or the floor. The thought disappeared when he brushed his thumb across her jaw. She couldn’t read the look on his face as he studied her, but it turned her insides to mush. Then he kissed her again, a light touch that still managed to make her toes curl. “Candice is an acquaintance. Her brother is a friend of mine. It wasn’t a date. She just showed up, at a loose end. I’ve never slept with her, and I don’t plan to.”

  She opened her mouth, then shut it again, jaw flapping like a dying fish.

  He grinned. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Alex.”

  She hated the relief that washed over her at his words. She also hated that when he left, she wished he’d come back.

  Chapter Three

  Getting out of bed would be a colossal mistake. Alex knew what was coming, what the day would bring, and was powerless to stop it. Kind of like being tied to the tracks in one of those old black-and-white movies and watching a freight train come barreling toward you full speed. “Helpless” was the word that came to mind. Fucking helpless.

  She hadn’t felt like that since her folks died, since she’d been shuttled from one foster home to the next. The funny thing was, it had been Deacon who’d made her believe she wasn’t nothing, that if she vanished into thin air, someone would actually give a crap.

  God, she’d needed that.

  She’d had no one. No parents. No one who cared, except for Rusty and Piper. She’d spent all her time at her friends’ house. It had been one of those weekends while she was staying with the Wests that things had changed.

  Because of her situation, some of the boys had seen her as easy prey. Deacon had found her with one of them behind the garage. He’d had her pinned to the wall. The weasel had kissed her, tried to cop a feel. One minute she’d been trying to fight him off, the next he was gone, laid out flat by a pissed-off Deacon.

  After he’d scared the guy away, he’d slung an arm around her shoulders, pulled her in for a hug, and asked if she was okay. He’d been furious, had taken care of her. She’d already been half in love with him by then. But after that, she’d been toast.

  Over the next few years, he’d been there for her, had looked out for her—until he went away to college. Then it was like he’d disappeared off the face of the earth. God, how she’d missed him.

  Not long after that, he’d gotten himself a preppy business-school girlfriend. Emily had perky tits and a smile to match, and Alex had been forced to suffer every time he came back home, Miss Perky at his side, stuck to him like shit to a blanket.

  When she’d turned eighteen and was old enough to leave the foster-care system, Jacob West had invited her to move in with them. She’d been living there a few months when Deke had come home for the summer. She’d been secretly dreading it. Watching him make out with his girlfriend hadn’t been one of her favorite pastimes. But when he’d arrived, he’d been alone. He and Emily had broken up. She’d had no idea what had happened between them, and she hadn’t cared. All she’d cared about was that she had him back. It’d been like old times.

  She’d been so happy that summer.

  Then one night, when she’d gone to grab a drink, she’d found Deke in the kitchen. For the first time in her life, he didn’t look at her like his sisters’ best friend. There’d been a whole lot of heat in that intense stare and—she’d convinced herself—so much more.

  The memory came rushing back unbidden.

  “Shit, Alex. Do you have any idea how long I’ve wanted to kiss you?”

  Her heart hammered behind her ribs. “You have?”

  He grabbed her hips and pulled her in flush against him, brushed his thumb over her bottom lip. “I need to know what you taste like.” His fingers flexed on her waist, and she could feel his erection against her stomach. “Can I?”

  He’d kissed her. It’d been long and sweet and full of desperate need, and then without a word he’d taken her hand and led her to his room. Convinced that she was part of this amazing family, that Deacon loved her and when he finished college they’d get married and Piper and Rusty would be her sisters for real, she’d followed blindly.

  She’d been young, naive, had stupidly thought she meant something to him.

  She hadn’t.

  He’d taken her virginity that night, then the next day Emily had called, crying and begging him to take her back. He had. He’d run back to her, leaving Alex behind.

  Jesus, it had hurt.

  Deacon had asked Emily to marry him not long after that, and when Alex found out, she’d cried herself to sleep for a full month.

  Idiot.

  They got married in a private ceremony a month later. They saw even less of Deacon after that. It had hurt his sisters, the distance he’d put between them, and for no good reason, as far as they could see. But then after only four years of wedded bliss, he and Emily had called it quits. Not even Rusty or Piper knew why Deacon had filed for divorce, and he hadn’t offered an explanation.

  In the end, not even perky Emily with her college education and rich daddy had been good enough.

  Now not a trace of the old Deacon remained.

  Which meant it should be easy to keep her feelings for him in check. No way was she falling hopelessly in love with him all over again. Not going to happen.

  “Enough.” Punching her pillow, she sat up.

  No matter how much she wished it, time would not stop for her, and lying around in bed just gave her time to think about the boy he’d been, about things that could only lead to pain and heartache—about the huge mistake she was making.

  She dragged her butt out of bed early and, feeling nervous and cranky, got ready for work.

  Holding a piece of toast between her teeth, she bent to do up her boots. Mr. Cannon’s restoration job was coming in this morning, and she was anxious to get started. Plus, they had a few other smaller jobs coming in. Busy for a Tuesday, but today of all days, she was happy for the distraction.

  They had three months to prove Deacon wrong. If they had several big jobs lined up, it would blow his theory that they’d set themselves up to fail, that they were playing shop.

  She stood and pulled her hair back, tying it in her usual ponytail, then opened the door and stumbled back a step. “Shit.” Some guy dressed in a suit and hat stood there about to knock.

  He dropped his hand and smiled. “Miss Franco?”

  “Who wants to know?”

  “I’m Martin. Mr. West’s chauffeur. He wanted me to deliver this to you.” He held out a large box and one of those fancy store bags that had ribbon for handles.

  “Um, just a sec.” She got rid of her toast and took it from him. Martin was tall and had graying hair and a kind face. She could tell, despite spending his days carting Deacon around, he was fit and took care of himself. “What
is it?”

  He smiled. “I couldn’t say.”

  “Right. Well, thanks, Martin.”

  The older man tipped his hat and left her with her packages. She looked over the rail to the garage below. The doors were still closed. Thank God. The last thing she wanted was for Piper or Rusty to see his car parked outside her place. She shut the door and carried them to the living room, putting the bag down and placing the box on the coffee table. She slowly circled the thing like it was stuffed full of poisonous spiders waiting to pounce.

  The name on the box was written in another language, maybe French. She’d never seen it before. Then her curiosity got the better of her, and she pulled off the lid.

  White tissue sat on top, and she folded it back. “Damn.” A dress of the deepest red sat among more white tissue. At least she thought it was a dress. She could see the top half. It looked simple, elegant. Rubbing her hands on her cutoffs so she didn’t get peanut butter on it, she lifted the fabric carefully from the box.

  It had spaghetti straps and a sheer overlay. Beautiful.

  She’d never owned a dress like it. In fact, she didn’t own any dresses at all. She hadn’t even gone to her prom. She didn’t do clothes shopping, especially in the fancy stores. She always felt out of place. She might fix cars for a living, but she was girl, and sometimes she wanted to feel like one. Sometimes she wanted to wander around those extravagant stores and try on beautiful clothes like everyone else.

  Deacon knew it, too. She’d told him once, after one too many sneaky beers at Rusty’s seventeenth birthday. He hadn’t laughed at her confession; he’d smiled at her, eyes soft, and said, “You deserve nothing but the best, Alex.”

  She pushed the memory aside, doubted he even remembered now. She looked back down at the dress, and her pulse sped up, heat rushing to the surface of her skin. Jesus, she was actually looking forward to wearing it, to spending time with Deacon. Deacon, who was a controlling, blackmailing asshole.

  Her phone rang and she jumped, dropping the dress back in the box. “Shoot.” Yanking her phone from her back pocket, she saw Deacon’s name flash across the screen.