Man in Queue

by Shandi Boyes

  I don’t know him very well, but I must trust him when I request, “Keep this conversation between us.”

  Usually, I follow procedures to the letter, but there is a niggle in my gut warning me to remain vigilant. Regan’s attacker could have assaulted me and left, but he removed me from the premises. That has my suspicion piqued. He wants Regan, but she isn’t the only target on his wish list.

  After Brandon agrees to keep things on the downlow, I disconnect our call and head back inside. My timing is better than a perfectly laid out skit when Regan walks into the main area of our room two seconds later.

  I do a double take when my scan of her body reaches the luscious curves of her thighs. She’s not wearing any pants. She’s wearing nothing but my short-sleeve shirt and a smirk sultry enough to buckle the knees of the world’s strongest man.

  With her eyes on me and her lip caught between her teeth, she murmurs, “It’s lucky a majority of my work is done from home. Imagine the coronary my boss would have if I turned up to work like this?”

  I grumble under my breath that a coronary will be too easy a death for him if he ever sees her like that.

  I thought I said my sneer softly enough it was only audible to my ears, but the streak of lust blazing through Regan’s eyes weakens my hypothesis. “A marathon romp with a record-breaking number of orgasms and you’re still playing the jealousy card. God—I’d kick up a stink if it didn’t make my insides quiver.”

  If my cock wasn’t already standing to attention from her comment, it has no chance of staying down when she shoves me onto the mattress before straddling my lap. I growl. Pants aren’t the only piece of clothing she is missing. She’s also not wearing any panties.

  “Nuh-uh.” She slaps my hand away when it sneaks up to grip her ass. “We’ve been there. Done that. Multiple times.”

  I grin and waggle my brows at her last comment. Sex is the one thing I can give her without holding back. It is something we share that is solely for us. No one can control it, demand we adjust it, or alter the inane connection that comes with it. When we’re together like that, unified as one, I feel as if I can take down the world with my bare hands.

  My cocky smile droops an inch when Regan murmurs, “I really wish you’d let me call Raquel. If we don’t address your wound properly, it could scar.”

  I cup her hands in mine, removing them from an old scar hidden behind a scruffy chin and overdue-for-a-trim hair. “Won’t be my first scar, unlikely to be my last.”

  I issue my comment in jest. Regan doesn’t take it that way. “I don’t like this.”

  She isn’t the only one harboring dislike when she removes herself from my lap, taking the seductive heat warming my cock right along with her.

  “This isn’t me. I don’t watch someone I care about be assaulted and do nothing about it. I fight. I win. I make culprits pay. I wouldn’t act like a bimbo who stupidly believes sex is more important than discovering the people responsible for dumping a man in an alleyway with no concern for his life. Normal Regan would stop this. I’m not exactly sure how, but I know she wouldn’t be holed up in a hotel room with her boyfriend, acting like nothing happened.” She suddenly stops talking as her eyes dart to the partially cracked open curtain.

  My heart drums against my ribcage as I encourage her to repeat her statement. “Holed up with her. . .?”

  She doesn’t play along as nicely as she has the past ten hours. She remains perfectly quiet and painstakingly still.

  “What did you call me, Rae?”

  Regan’s brows cinch. “Nothing. I didn’t say anything.”

  Why she decided to become a lawyer, I have no idea. She’s a terrible liar, her poor skills only second to her inability to hide her emotions. She wears them on her sleeve, visible to the entire world.

  “I won’t let anyone hurt you, Rae. Not even me.”

  Her chest rises and falls three times before she faintly whispers, “I’m not worried about me.”

  She flattens her ear on the bedding we’re lying on before slanting her head my way. It feels like the world implodes in my stomach when she locks her glistening eyes with mine. She is worried about herself, but not in the way I first perceived. She’s worried what will happen to her if something were to happen to me. That’s not surprising. It’s been eight years since Luca passed, and she’s still picking up the pieces of her life. Just the thought of going through that again has her skin clamming up and her eyes watering.

  “Come home with me.”

  That clears the fret from her face by replacing it with pure, unbridled fear. . . or is it fury?

  “What?!”

  “Come home with me,” I repeat, acting as if she is hard of hearing.

  She heard me; I’m just unwilling to accept the denial streaming from her eyes. This is the perfect solution for our predicament. An impromptu trip to my hometown will get Regan off her stalker’s radar long enough for Brandon to work his magic, while at the same time surrounding her with more law enforcement officers than Theresa has on her team. It’s perfect—a true win/win. . . if I can convince Regan.

  “I can’t—”

  “Can’t or don’t want to?” I question, using her words against her.

  Her lips quirk as she struggles to hide her smile. “Both.” She raises to a half-seated position. “This is absurd. We’re grown adults, for crying out loud. We don’t rush home every time we get a boo-boo.”

  “Rae. . .”

  My grumble of her name isn’t because I disagree with her. It is a warning that I’m five seconds away from pinning her to the bed to convince her with the tactics I used Saturday morning.

  “We need to do this.”

  “No. You need to do this. There’s no we in this scenario.”

  She rushes to her feet. I don’t know where she’s going; there are literally a few feet of carpet between us and the door.

  I smirk when she walks three paces before spinning on her heels to retrace the steps she just took.

  “You pace when you’re frustrated.”

  Her wide eyes stray to mine. “No, I run when I’m frustrated. But since I don’t have clothing, I’m doing the next best thing. Count your blessings, Mister Fancy Pants. If I had the means, you’d never catch me.”

  There she goes with her poor lying skills again. The clothing part of her statement is accurate, but I know she has no intentions of running from me. If she was planning to bolt, she would have the instant she found me in the alley. Regan has never hidden the fact she finds relationships confusing. I’m nowhere near as worried. It’s new—everything new takes some adjusting.

  A wry grin crosses my face as I switch tactics. “You said Normal Regan wouldn’t sit by and watch a person she cares about be assaulted without doing something about it. I’m doing something.”

  Regan’s face screws up as if she vomited in her mouth. The reason behind her disgust comes to light when she asks, “Your plan to combat being assaulted is to hide as if you’re a coward?”

  “No!” I lower my voice, which in turn reduces my anger. “I’m drawing out the perp. Forcing him away from his comfort zone.”

  She throws her hands into the air. “By running home to mommy and daddy with your tail between your legs.”

  My smirk morphs into a genuine smile. She’s extra cute when she’s riled up with jealousy, but it has nothing on her spit-fire attitude when she’s preparing to fight. She has her fists up and is ready to grapple, except she isn’t defending herself. She’s protecting her man.

  Her step slices to half its natural stride when I stand to my feet. Unlike her, I haven’t put on a single stitch of clothing. I am as naked as the day I was born and as stiff as I’ll be the day I’m laid in my final resting place.

  “Alex. . .” Regan stammers in warning, stepping back. “I’m not some naïve twit you can wave your magic wand at and put me under a spell.”

  I continue toward her with slow and purposeful strides. Her eyes narrow as she scrutinizes my face.
The curl of my lips and the spark in my eyes reveal I took her magic wand comment as a compliment.

  She pops out her hip, highlighting the seductive swells of her body. She’s mad, but it only makes me more determined. I’d rather her be angry and horny than harmed and unbreathing.

  “Two nights—tops. Then we’re even.”

  She looks at me like I’m insane. “Even? How will this make us even?”

  A crass grin stretches across my face when her eyes drop to my cock to take in its twitch. “I saw yours, then you saw mine.” I wait for her eyes to float back to my face before adding on, “I’ve been introduced to your parents, so now it’s only fair you meet mine.”

  “I didn’t invite you to meet my family. You forced an introduction.”

  Her strong words weaken when I reach her, twist her, then arch her over the chair tucked into a small writing desk at the front of our room. I grind my cock against her ass without shame, my earlier releases a forgotten memory.

  I can tell by her expression that it’s taking everything she has not to respond to my grind. Her teeth are gritted and exposed, but the warmth between her legs can’t be contained.

  “I had planned to stay at a hotel; you wanted to stay at your family ranch. How is that a forced invitation?” My words are strained from a heavy tongue, my quest to have her beneath me nearly overtaking my endeavor to do things my way.

  Regan waits for my hand to finish skating around her quivering stomach before she replies, “I never wanted to go to Texas. You forced me to go.”

  She balances on the balls of her feet when my index finger pierces the folds of her pussy. “Are you being forced now, Regan?”

  I keep my fingertip perched at the entrance of her pussy. Not quite penetrating the area responsible for the seductive scent wafting in the air, but close enough its presence can’t be ignored.

  When she shakes her head, I lower my chin to skim my lips across her ear. “Because you’re too strong to ever have anything forced on you.”

  Her eyes rise to mine. The lust in them grows from my confession. She heard the honesty in my tone; she knows I’m telling the truth.

  “That’s why I asked you to come with me, Rae, instead of telling you it was what we were doing. I want you to come home with me because you want to, not because I’m forcing you.”

  “Is that so?” When I nod, she asks, “Then why is your cock grinding my ass while your finger skims my pussy?”

  “Because I can’t help but touch you. Your body was built for this. You know it.” She purrs in agreement. “I know it.” We moan in sync when my thumb grazes her swollen clit. “And after our efforts last night, I’m fairly sure every guest at this hotel knows it.”

  She smiles, not the least bit concerned people heard her in the throes of ecstasy. Good—because if I have it my way, they’re about to hear her all over again.

  “So you’re touching me merely because I’m your drug of choice, and you’re due for another hit?”

  “Uh-huh, except I’m not a random junkie picking up B-Grade shit from a skittish dealer on a corner. I’m going for the premium stuff, the superior stuff on the top shelf no one else gets to have. I’m talking the cream of the crop, baby.”

  “Cream you want curdled by uncomfortable dinners, awkward glances, and god knows what other shenanigans occur at family meet and greets. I haven’t avoided them since my teen days for no reason, Alex. I don’t play well with others.”

  The openness in her tone surprises me. She truly thinks our time home will be uncomfortable and awkward. She couldn’t be further from the truth. After getting over the shock of me bringing home a woman for the first time, my family will love Regan. I’m one hundred percent certain of this.

  When I say that to her, her face pales even more. “I’m not a girl you take home to meet your parents, Alex. I’m the one you invite to functions when you want to make an ex jealous, or your coworkers drool in envy. I’m not parent-certified.”

  She groans when I step back so she can spin around to face me. She does, although hesitantly. I attempt to fire off a remark, a comment that any man would be fucking blessed to have her in his life, but she beats me to the task, her comment more pained than pleasant. “Parents have a knack for knowing good people. They’ll smell my rotten insides from a mile away. Luca’s parents did.”

  Finally, the truth smacks into me. She’s not opposed to meeting my parents. She’s recalling bad memories.

  “Do you really think I’d take you home to be ridiculed?” Stealing her chance to reply with one of the many grievances firing through her eyes, I quickly add on, “I’ll walk away from everyone I know before I’ll ever let that happen.”

  Her eyes dance between mine as if shocked by my declaration. This is one notion I can’t understand. Why in the world would anyone as perfect and beautiful as Regan think she’d be second best? I wasn’t lying when I told her dad I didn’t care if our relationship was two hours old or over a decade long, she’ll always be my number one priority.

  “Two nights, Rae, give me two nights of the real you, and I’ll do the same. No holds barred. No secrets. No lies—”

  “No omissions of truth.”

  I smile then nod. “Just two people hanging out like we did at your ranch.”

  Her smile matches mine, her memories just as fond. We only left her ranch a little over twenty-four hours ago, but it feels more like a lifetime. I’d give anything to go back to that moment in the field where we became us.

  After a deep breath that expands her chest, Regan locks her eyes with mine. “Truth?” She only says one word, but the hundreds streaming from her eyes express more than real words ever could.

  Even panicked I’m mere hours from losing her, I nod. It’s time for me to be honest. I just need to bring her stalker to justice first. If I confess right now, she’ll never let me protect her. She may not even let me see her again. I don’t want either of those things to occur, so although I’m pledging honesty, it must start from now. I can’t confess to old sins just yet.

  “Okay.” Regan releases another big breath before stepping closer to me. “I didn’t take a shower.”

  My eyes dart to her hair that’s bone dry before scanning the little pockets in her collarbone. They don’t have a single drop of moisture on them.

  When I return my eyes to Regan, she confesses, “After the first time we. . . fucked, you went a little quiet. I knew something was off.”

  Although pleased at her uncomfortable wording, it does little to ease my agitation. “So instead of asking me what was wrong, you spied on me?”

  “No.” She shakes her head. “Well. . . not technically.”

  Catching my stink eye, she adds on, “I intended to take a shower. I switched on the faucet. . . I just never got in.”

  “Did you press your ear against the door?”

  Her lips quirk into a smile. I really wish they wouldn’t. I can’t stay mad at her when she’s smiling at me. It is impossible.

  “Yes.” She chews on the corner of her lip, enhancing her sexpot look. “When that didn’t work, I used a glass.”

  I smirk, half-impressed, half-peeved. “What did you hear?”

  Her smile drops as her eyes narrow. “More my raging heart than anything.”

  I exhale a relieved breath.

  It is quickly withdrawn when she adds on, “But I know you’re hiding something from me, Alex, so until you come clean on what that is, I refuse to go anywhere with you. Trust is a two-way street. You either give it to me fully or cross the road, leaving me on the other side.”

  This. . . this is the exact reason I know she is the woman for me. She gets me. Even while masking my confusion in a way I’ve been trained to do, she sees through it. She sees the real me.

  Now things are about to get even more real.

  9

  I stare at Alex, confused and complexed. I thought he’d be frustrated at my lack of trust, but the crinkle in his brow isn’t there because of what I said. It is
there because of me. I went the honesty route because I thought it was the right thing to do. I’ve lied so much the past decade, I’m having a hard time distinguishing between truth and dishonesty.

  I was also hoping a little bit of honesty would encourage Alex to do the same. If the uneasy crinkle in his top lip is anything to go by, I’m skeptical.

  After curling his hand around mine, Alex guides me to the bed we spent a majority of our night wrestling on. The frustration slashed across his face jumps onto mine when he enters the bathroom to put on a pair of boxer shorts and plain black trousers.

  He throws open the partially open curtain of our patio before joining me on the bed. The late morning sun sends hues of yellow and white dancing across his packed stomach and smooth pecs. I thought he was opening the curtain to let natural light into the room. Only now am I realizing that isn’t the case. He wants me distracted.

  Before I can announce I am on to him, he twists his torso to face me. The worry in his eyes secures my devotion even more readily than his sexy six pack.

  “I need you to know, nothing I am about to tell you is your fault.”

  The fact he feels compelled to say that piques my suspicion. It also assures me this is one hundred percent my fault.

  “There was something off about the man who assaulted me last night.”

  I give him a look. It’s my duh face. “Clearly, only an insane man would go against one as strong and determined as you.”

  My compliment has the effect I am aiming for. His somewhat deflated chest swells as his lips tug high. I had wondered last night if his silence stemmed from shame, but then I realized someone with confidence like Alex would never feel shame. He was mad about what happened, and frustrated by it, but from the details he shared, he’s aware size, shape, and vitality doesn’t matter when you’re victimized inside your comfort zone. That’s why he took me back to Texas after my home invasion. He knew my ranch was where I’d feel the safest.

  “It wasn’t his stupidity that made him distinguishable. It was his mannerisms and size.”

  I’m dying to jump in, but I’m truly lost. From the snippets of conversation I heard through the bathroom door, Alex used words like “waif.” Don’t get me wrong, I know size doesn’t matter when it comes to strength, but it seems pretty futile right now.