Crashed (Entangled Indulgence)

by Sherilee Gray

  Some people might think it was weird, getting all hot and bothered over forearms, but Deacon’s were beautiful. All corded muscle and tanned skin.

  “Tequila!” Rusty yelled, shaking her out of her haze of lust, and handed her another shot.

  “This is gonna hurt in the morning.” Her friend laughed, then they both downed their drinks and slammed the empties on the bar.

  “Let’s dance.” Piper grabbed their hands and leaned into her brother. “Come dance with us?”

  He shook his head. “You girls go have fun. I’ll get another round of drinks.”

  Piper popped her bottom lip. “I don’t want to leave you all on your own.”

  Rusty snorted. “He won’t be alone for long.”

  Deacon grinned like the motherfucking cat that got the cream. Was that why he’d insisted on coming? To flaunt some bimbo in front of her, to pay her back for bailing on their plans? Perhaps he’d decided being with her was too much effort.

  He met and held her gaze. “Never know what the night will bring.”

  Overbearing bastard. How dare he show up and try to ruin her night. If he wanted to play games, she could play games. Smiling wide, she made sure her silent screw you was there to see.

  His eyes narrowed, and he took a step toward her.

  Oh, no, you don’t.

  Before he could open his mouth, she spun on her heel and headed to the dance floor. “Let’s do this!”

  Oh, yeah, Deacon had been super pissed that she’d walked away from him and remained that way as she danced the next five songs nonstop so she could avoid him. She knew this because she’d cast sneaky looks his way every now and then and, as per her shitty luck, had been caught every time. His dark gaze hadn’t left her once; she’d felt it, the heat of it moving over her skin. And she’d secretly loved it.

  But now, instead of watching her, those green eyes were focused on a hot blonde with a killer rack and a pouty mouth.

  Deacon’s usual type.

  “You wanna dance?” Alex turned toward the deep voice. The guy standing behind her was good-looking, tall, a little rough around the edges. Perfect one-night-stand material.

  “We already are,” she yelled back. He’d come in closer, moving with her to the music. His grin widened, and he pulled her in to his body, both hands landing on her hips. Before long they were dancing with the deep, sensual bass of the song.

  She rested her hands on his biceps. They were firm, more lean muscle than bulk. Not like Deacon. Deke worked out a lot, and it showed. This guy was definitely nothing to sneeze at, though. She might’ve considered taking him home for the night if things were different. This was the kind of guy she imagined she’d end up with. This guy was from her world.

  The song ended and another one started. It had a faster tempo, but she and Mr. Rough Around the Edges didn’t break apart or pick up the pace.

  “You got any place to be later?” he said against her ear.

  Did she?

  She wasn’t so sure anymore. She glanced over to where Deacon and the hottie with the rack had been earlier. She’d purposely not looked since he’d found his new friend. Just seeing him with someone else shredded her. They were gone.

  She sucked in a pained breath. God, she was such an idiot.

  Gripping his shoulders, she went up on her tiptoes, and her dance partner bent down close so he could hear her. “Sorry, this was really nice, but…”

  Strong hands gripped her upper arms, pulling her back and spinning her around. Deacon’s furious gaze came into focus. “Let’s go.”

  The guy she’d been dancing with stepped forward. “You all right, babe?”

  Deacon turned to him, and she could see his fists clench and unclench at his sides. “Turn around and back the hell off while you still can.”

  Holy shit. Alex stepped between them, planting a hand on Deacon’s chest. The muscles bunched hard as stone beneath her palm. She’d never seen him this angry before, this close to the edge of his control. It kind of freaked her out. It also, surprisingly—and inappropriately—turned her the hell on. “I’m fine. Thanks for the dances.” She didn’t hear the other guy’s response because Deacon was dragging her through the bar. “Where’s Rusty and Piper?”

  “Dancing.” He turned to her. “Don’t worry, Alex, they didn’t see us.”

  Was that bitterness in his tone?

  She expected him to take her out into the street, but instead he dragged her down a corridor at the back of the club, and pulling a key out of his pocket, unlocked a door and led her inside a small office. It was dark, the only light streaming in through a frosted glass window on the other side of the room, the fluorescent sign beyond casting them in a blue wash.

  “How did you get that key?”

  He shut the door and pushed her against it, staring down at her, gaze fierce, blazing hot. Her breathing came faster, harder. A rush of heat, of pure lust, pumped though her veins, heady, exciting. She fisted his shirt on either side of his waist. “Deke…”

  “I’m tired of playing games with you.”

  He ground the hard length of his erection into her, and despite the anger, the confusion, she wanted him, wanted him so bad she shook from it. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Were you going to screw that guy? Or were you just trying to piss me off?”

  Her anger flared. “I assumed since you’d already found a friend, then so could I,” she threw back.

  “Jealous?”

  “No.” Liar.

  “I warned you. No one touches you but me.”

  A shiver of pleasure, of anticipation moved through her body. She tried to push him back, but they both knew her heart wasn’t in it. He didn’t budge.

  His expression went from pissed to hard control in an instant. Mr. Chill was back, and for the first time, she didn’t want that side of him in the driver’s seat when he touched her. She didn’t want to disconnect, didn’t want him to make this easier on her. No, this time she wanted the fire, the heat, and God help her, the emotion…she wanted everything.

  Then his fingers were in her hair and his thigh went between her legs, and though she recognized the hard persona, the cold businessman who demanded obedience, this was a Deacon she had yet to be introduced to. Because despite the cool exterior, his eyes blazed hot. That intense gaze told a different story all together.

  This Deacon was wild—determined.

  Firm, warm lips tickled the side of her neck, sucked the delicate skin there, and he pressed his thigh more firmly between her legs. “I’m going to fuck you now, Alex.”

  A whimper was all the reply she could manage, and his dark chuckle told her he knew exactly how much she wanted him. That all the attitude and resistance had been for show, a way to protect herself, and right then she didn’t have the strength to fight it, to pretend this wasn’t what she wanted as well.

  Strong fingers dug into her inner thigh, then moved higher. The sound of her panties being torn from her body came next. Cool air hit her overheated flesh, and she moaned like a B-grade porn star when he slid his fingers through the drenched folds. She moved her hips like a cock-starved nymphomaniac trying to get those fingers where she wanted them most.

  Deacon made a rough sound against her throat. “You’re soaked, so hungry for my cock.” His fingers did another up-and-back through her slick, quivering flesh. “Desperate to feel me thrusting between these pretty lips.”

  She was. She was desperate to have him inside her. He kept up with the torment, his other hand massaging her aching breasts, pinching and tugging her piercing. Right then, she could easily come from that alone.

  “Undo my jeans. I need inside that hot little body.” His voice was low, full of hunger, barely restrained.

  It was a command, demanding her acceptance, and sent another rush of heat between her thighs. She slid her hands between their bodies, and with trembling fingers, popped the button. Dragging down the zipper, she pushed his jeans and boxers low enough to free his straining
hard-on.

  His fingers dug into her thighs as he roughly shoved her skirt up around her hips. “Wrap your legs around my waist.”

  That was all he said before he pinned her to the wall, positioned his cock, and slammed deep inside her. She gasped at the intrusion, the feeling of fullness, of being taken. She was under no illusion that this was anything more than fucking of the most down and dirty variety. And that’s exactly what she wanted.

  Deacon hissed when he slid out then thrust back inside her. “Is this what you wanted?”

  She couldn’t speak, couldn’t form a coherent sentence if she tried.

  “You wanted to feel my cock deep inside you? Pounding into you?” He nipped her earlobe again, sucked the tender skin there. “Answer me,” he whispered harshly.

  “Y-yes.”

  He reared back, but there was no triumph like she’d expected, just raw animal need. He took her mouth then, and they ate at each other like they were starved. Tongues thrusting in time to Deacon’s thrusting hips slamming into hers.

  He didn’t hold back, fucking her against the wall, using his strength to shove her higher, then slamming her down on his cock with every short, deep, jarring thrust. He rode her hard, so hard it was impossible to catch her breath, giving them what they both needed. Then he placed a hand on her hip, fingers digging into her flesh, holding her immobile, and looked down between their bodies, watching as he slid in and out of her.

  “Ah, shit. Fuck,” he rasped. Then he seemed to snap, pinning her back against the wall. He pressed his face against her throat, his whiskered jaw rough against her skin, holding her so tightly she could do nothing but take it, take what he gave her. The only sounds in the room were Deacon’s grunts and her wanton moans begging him for more.

  Tightening her arms around his wide shoulders, she held on as her building orgasm reached its peak and slammed through her body, ripples of pleasure radiating from her center to the tips of her toes. She cried out, digging her nails into his back as he fucked her through it. He kept going until she felt the next one start to build. Deacon stiffened, muscles going rock solid, then he planted deep inside her, hips moving with shallow, grinding thrusts as he came, and she went over again, with him this time.

  When his breathing slowed, he kissed the damp skin between her shoulder and neck, traced her jaw, and took her mouth in a slow, deep kiss that curled her toes.

  He said against her mouth, “I love how hungry you are for me.”

  She didn’t bother denying it, was done fighting him. What was the point? She wanted this, wanted whatever he could give her in the time they had left. There was no way to guard her heart, she knew that now. When the time came and he walked, it would hurt like hell, but she would get over it. She had to. Until then, she’d enjoy every damn minute. “I hope you have plenty of stamina.”

  He smirked and stepped aside, tugging her skirt back down. “We’re going to walk out of here, and you’re going to tell my sisters you’re not feeling well. Then I’m taking you home, because, baby, the night has only just begun.”

  He scooped up her torn underwear, put them in his pocket, and placing his hand on the small of her back, led her from the office. She did as he said, didn’t even think about fighting it.

  Her friends were worried, disappointed that she had to go, but she forced down her guilt and convinced them to stay. Martin was going to give them a ride home when they were ready, so they could carry on having a good time.

  Then Deacon took her hand, and she held his in return. No, she clung to him, like a lifeline, happy to let him lead the way. Let him lead her blindly down a path she knew was dangerous and promised nothing but pain when they reached their destination, but she would walk it all the same.

  The crowd was thick and pushed in from all sides, threatening to tear them apart. She leaned in close to him. “Don’t let me go.” Her words came out kind of desperate, and if he’d been listening for it, gave away far more than she ever wanted him to know.

  His fingers flexed around hers, and he turned to her, expression so intense, exhilaration spiked through her belly. “I don’t plan to.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Deacon woke with a start, hand automatically going to the other side of the bed, seeking Alex. The sheets were cold…the bed empty.

  His stomach dropped, disappointment slamming into him from all sides.

  She’d fucking run, again.

  He’d thought things had changed between them last night. When they got back to his apartment, it’d been a repeat of the club—he’d taken her hard on the kitchen counter. The sound of her cries as she’d broken apart beneath him still echoed in his head, made him hard even now. He’d been mindless, so desperate for her that his hands had been shaking. This last week had driven him near insane with wanting her so badly.

  Alex hadn’t protested, not once. No, she’d egged him on, just as wild for him. There’d been a softness in her eyes when he’d carried her to bed that hadn’t been there before. She hadn’t tensed when he’d wrapped her in his arms, she’d snuggled closer. He’d thought his little viper was finally dropping her guard, finally letting him in.

  He rubbed his hands over his face. She’d run the first chance she got. And that fucking stung. But it was his own damn fault. Idiot.

  He’d meant to bring her back to his apartment at the end of the night, spend his time worshipping her body, making slow, sweet love to her like she deserved. Instead he’d let jealousy and mistrust skew his judgment, his actions. He’d found the owner of the club, a guy he knew through a business colleague, borrowed his keys, then dragged Alex off the dance floor and fucked her against the door. Fucked her the way he’d been desperate to for years now. And she’d taken it, all of it, the full force of his need—and met it with her own.

  He’d pushed too hard, too fast. Fuck, he’d ruined everything.

  Shoving back the sheets, he yanked on a pair of jeans and strode to the living room. When would she stop running from him? The way she’d wrapped around him last night, he’d thought…

  He stopped in his tracks, sucked in a breath. There, sitting on the small balcony off his living room was Alex. She hasn’t run. She hasn’t left me.

  Wearing his black button-down, sleeves rolled up, legs bare and propped on the railing, she looked relaxed and tempting as hell. Lifting a mug to her lips, she took a sip.

  He strode across the floor, trying to control his racing pulse, trying to appear calm and collected when he was anything but. He stepped through the door and joined her outside. “Any of that left for me?”

  She tilted her head back and smiled at him, causing all the oxygen to leave his lungs in a rush. “Nope, sorry.”

  She handed him her mug, and he accepted it, taking a sip before placing it on the small table beside them. “You’re up early. Trouble sleeping?”

  “Drinking does that to me.” There was that smile again, and he couldn’t help himself. He leaned in and brushed his lips across hers. She kissed him back, like it was the most natural thing in the world, like he’d been giving her morning kisses their whole lives. He wanted that more than anything. “I didn’t want to wake you, so I thought I’d check out the view.”

  “What do you think?”

  “Not too shabby.”

  He took the seat beside her. “Come here, Alex.” She didn’t hesitate, just hopped up and climbed in his lap, curling against him. He threaded his fingers through her hair. “I’m glad you stayed.”

  “Yeah?” she whispered.

  “Yeah.” Tilting her head back, he kissed her again, slow and easy. She slid her arms around his neck, giving herself over to him, no resistance, and for once, no smart comments. Finally, he pulled back, giving her one final nip. His cock was hard as iron, but he wasn’t in a hurry to do anything about it, not yet. He wanted her where she was, wanted this quiet, intimate moment to last as long as she’d allow it. “You hungry?”

  “Not yet.”

  All the things he wanted to say swam
through his mind, were on the tip of his tongue, but he kept them to himself. She wasn’t ready to hear them, not yet, despite the fact she was currently in his lap, wearing his shirt, in his apartment, without being forced to.

  He had to keep things light—she was still so skittish, and if she thought he wanted more, he had no doubt she’d be out of here in a shot. “You wanna hang out today? Maybe catch a movie later?”

  He felt her nod against his chest. “Sure.”

  His heart hammered behind his ribs. This was it, the breakthrough he’d been hoping for, and he sure as hell refused to waste a second of it. “First, though”—he pulled her ass down tight against his erection—“we’re going back to bed.”

  Deacon shoved his hands in his pockets and looked out over the city. He should have stayed home. He wasn’t getting any work done, not when all he could think about was Alex. She’d stayed with him Friday and Saturday night. They’d spent all of Saturday watching old DVDs, eating junk food, and fucking like rabbits. He hadn’t been able to get enough of her.

  He wanted her still.

  The only reason he was at the office and not holed up in his apartment with her, was that Alex had to go to work, some urgent job Rusty had called her in for. A protest had been on the tip of his tongue when she told him she had to leave. But he knew her well enough to know that wouldn’t fly.

  He tried not to come in to work on the weekends, especially on Sunday. But the apartment had felt empty after she’d left. A damn mausoleum, like she said the first time she’d seen it. And there was plenty for him to do here. He had to go away for a few days, had meetings to prepare for, but he’d accomplished nothing, had been as good as useless all day.

  “Screw this.” He grabbed his jacket from the back of his chair and headed for the door.

  The elevator dinged as he shut the door behind him, and his ex-wife walked out. Her watery blue gaze lifted and caught on his immediately.

  Jesus.

  Tammy had obviously had fun spreading her poison. Thank God he was in the office alone. He did not need an audience for this.