Shakedown

by Vale, Lani Lynn

  I didn’t bother to ask him how he knew I was staring.

  “Studying your bruises, wondering what happened to you to get them on your head when you were wearing a helmet.” I paused. “I know that you were ‘hit’ by that van, but that doesn’t explain the contusions underneath where a helmet would normally reside.”

  He grunted out an affirmative sound. “I agree. Doesn’t make much sense at all. It was like the helmet was put on after the fact.”

  I agreed.

  But, with how lethargic his voice sounded, I didn’t say anything in case he needed to sleep.

  Something in which he did.

  Soundly.

  Something in which I did next to him for far longer than I ever intended.

  When next I woke, the natural light from outside had dimmed to full dark, despite what I could see on the clock being only six fifteen in the evening—daylight savings time blew.

  Carefully getting out of bed, I walked into the closet that I’d seen Bruno disappear into earlier and snagged a t-shirt that looked like it was the oldest and softest he owned and walked right back out.

  When I got to the bathroom, I carefully shut both doors almost all the way, keeping the one to the bedroom partially open just in case Bruno needed anything, and took the hottest shower I could stand.

  And, just sayin’, but Bruno’s shower got super-duper hot.

  I’m talking, burn the piss out of your inner organs hot.

  I. Loved. It.

  By the time I was done, my skin resembled a red cherry, and I felt cleaner than I’d ever felt in my life.

  My water heater at home didn’t get that hot. And the water heater at my parents’ house, though it was new, never really stayed hot long enough to call it worthwhile.

  Sharing a house with seven thousand people would be like that, though.

  If the shower wasn’t running, the washing machine and or the dishwasher was.

  There was just not enough supply to keep up with demand.

  However, Bruno’s place didn’t have that problem.

  I was smiling when I stepped out of the shower onto the fluffy bathroom mat.

  Even the mat was soft.

  It was like this man had prepared his home specially for me.

  If he kept it up, I might not ever leave.

  Smiling at that, I walked over to the sink where I’d tossed the t-shirt I’d procured and dropped the towel—again, my God, it was so soft and fluffy.

  Leaning forward—I reached for the shirt and thought I heard a groan.

  However, when I turned to survey the bed where I could clearly see Bruno’s face, it was to find his eyes closed and his big body breathing easily with sleep.

  Frowning, I turned back around and pulled the shirt over my head, sighing happily when I felt it settle into place around my neck and shoulders.

  After I was ‘dressed’ I picked up the towel and headed for the kitchen to see what I could make us for dinner.

  I wouldn’t call myself a chef or anything, but I was capable of cooking a meal.

  A meal, might I add, that would pass muster if push came to shove.

  Cooking was just one of those things that took time away from reading or napping or generally sitting down and being immobile, and I tended not to do those things if I didn’t have to.

  But when I opened his fridge, it was to find it fully stocked.

  Hell, there was even meat sitting on the shelf.

  Sadly, when I looked at the expiration date, it was all out of date, even the milk.

  So, throwing those things away, I went through his freezer, pulling out a pound of meat that resembled hamburger.

  After putting it in a bowl of cold water to thaw, I looked through his cupboards and then stalled on what I thought might be the pantry.

  However, I couldn’t figure out how to open it.

  It took me a good two minutes of searching to finally realize that the thing didn’t slide, push in, or pull out. It pushed up.

  Which was super cool.

  And super weird.

  But whatever.

  When I walked into the pantry, two things struck me with what I saw.

  One, my mom would love the size and the stock that Bruno had here.

  Two, the man was just as OCD as I was.

  Everything had its place.

  The pasta was all on one shelf, the canned veggies on another.

  And below that there was Mexican-themed—refried beans, spices, tortillas, and jalapeños.

  I decided to go with that, seeing as I knew how to cook tacos, and they took a short amount of time.

  I’d just come out of the pantry, and started to place my spoils on the counter, when I heard a creak from behind me.

  I frowned and turned to find Bruno sitting behind the bar-height counter with his forearms resting on the cool marble surface. His head was in his hands, and he looked tired as hell.

  Upon seeing me with my hands full, he got up and made his way around the counter, and I found myself staring at the man in all his glory.

  He was wearing gray sweatpants and nothing else.

  I’d always heard that gray sweatpants were utterly enticing, but I hadn’t really seen the ‘big deal’ about others wearing them.

  But with Bruno wearing them?

  The man was downright drop-dead gorgeous.

  I’m talking, beautiful, not going to change my mind that he’s the sexiest thing in the world, better than the hero in my favorite book, stunning.

  He walked toward me, and I couldn’t stop my eyes from going to the bulge between his legs.

  I mean, there were his abs, his dazzling, well-defined chest, and shoulders that looked like they could hold up the world.

  But it was his dick, which was bouncing slightly behind his sweats, that held me captive.

  He got so close that I froze, meaning he was easily able to take the jalapeños from my hands without much protest from me.

  Not that I would’ve put up a protest on him taking some stuff, but it wouldn’t have been the jalapeños, because they were holding up the can of beans.

  The beans that then nearly dropped directly on my toes.

  He bent down and caught them before they could drop a half a foot, and then swore swiftly as he pressed his hand to his forehead.

  I placed the rest of the items on the counter that I’d been juggling, then gently took the two items from him before placing them on the counter, too.

  Then I reached up and pressed my hands to his head and slowly started to rub the pressure points above his temples.

  He sighed and dropped his hands to my waist, startling me slightly at first.

  But before I could pull back, the uneasiness fled, leaving me with a sense of rightness.

  His eyes were squeezed tightly shut, and the lines around his eyes were deep while the veins in his forehead throbbed with each beat of his heart.

  I started to work my massaging hands around his head, pressing in trigger points all down the length of his neck in hopes of relieving some tension.

  I was so caught up in studying him as well as pressing my fingers into his muscular flesh, that I wasn’t ready for the intimacy when his eyes suddenly popped open.

  I’d never been this close to him as I looked into his eyes, so it was a surprise to see all the striations of color in what I thought were just normal green eyes.

  But they weren’t just a normal color green.

  They were a little bit of brown, and a little bit of blue.

  The colors were boring on their own, but together they were extraordinary.

  I was so caught up in what his eyes looked like that I hadn’t realized I was leaning in until he jolted me out of my inner thoughts.

  “Does your hair dry straight?” he wondered.

  I snorted. “My hair dries into this humid, massive mess that might or might not look good after I tame it with a brush.”

  He licked his lips, then slowly dropped his hands from my hips.

&n
bsp; I felt like I’d lost a part of myself when he stepped backward, putting distance between us.

  “I don’t think I can help,” he murmured softly.

  I swallowed hard. “That’s okay. I don’t need help. I’m fully capable of cooking sub-par tacos all on my own.”

  The corner of his mouth kicked up into a small smile, obviously still in pain.

  But there was something in his eyes as he watched me cook dinner that made me feel like there was something brewing underneath the surface, and I had no clue what kind of monster I’d unleashed.

  CHAPTER 14

  I say fuck so much, I forget that people actually get offended by it.

  -Bruno to Belle

  BRUNO

  “Give me the kid.”

  The man with the dingy yellowing teeth smiled, revealing a piece of black between his front two teeth.

  I wanted to knock that piece out with my fist.

  “Who are you, anyway?” he asked, chewing on his gum so loudly that I wondered if he realized just how fuckin’ annoying he was.

  There was no way he knew.

  Otherwise he’d be grinning like an asshole, knowing that he was getting to me.

  I didn’t react.

  To anything.

  Even pieces of shit like this who drove around with children in a panel van.

  I hadn’t set out to rescue any kids today.

  In fact, I’d been so lost in my own head that I hadn’t realized that anything was up with the van I’d been following at a long distance until I’d stopped with him to get gas.

  The driver, the asshole I was currently talking to, kept looking over at me warily.

  You know, like a kid that knew they were doing something wrong, yet they kept doing it until they were caught?

  The guy had stared at me nervously out of the corner of his eye, warily shifting from foot to foot, drawing my attention way better than if he’d just filled his tank up and not acted so guilty.

  I’d gone inside to get a drink, and when I’d come out, it was to see the guy holding open the back of the van doors, staring in at something.

  Something hit the doors, and the guy had to scramble to get whatever it was contained.

  I was just getting to my bike when I heard the cry of a kid shut off abruptly as he slammed the doors closed.

  The ‘thump’ of a body hitting something solid had me tensing.

  Then I heard the muted wails.

  Which led to now, me confronting the piece of shit.

  Only, I hadn’t expected the little weasel’s quickness.

  Before I could take a step past the gas pump—a gas nozzle still in his panel van—he’d all but dashed toward his front seat and dove inside.

  Knowing I wouldn’t catch him, I hopped on my bike, bottle of water toppling out of my hand to mix with the gas that was now pouring out of the pump that’d been ripped free when the van had taken off.

  Starting my bike up with a roar, I sped toward the van that was now careening down the street unsafely.

  I caught up to him, had my phone in my hand to call the cops, and had another panel van—one identical to the one I was chasing—come out of nowhere and hit me so hard that it knocked my helmet free of my head.

  “Bruno.”

  I blinked open my eyes, surprised to find Belle leaning over me in the bed, her cool, soft as hell hand covering my cheek.

  I glanced at the clock on the bedside table. Three past three in the morning.

  I looked back to her, my breath catching in my chest. “Yeah?”

  She was once again only in my shirt.

  Her unbound breasts were rubbing deliciously against the soft material of my favorite t-shirt.

  Her hair was surrounding the both of us, and it smelled like me—something that I found that I quite liked.

  “You were having a nightmare,” she murmured softly.

  I rocked my head back and forth on the pillow, not remembering anything of what I was dreaming.

  Though, that had a lot to do with the woman that was currently leaning over me, who had no idea just how sexy she was.

  “I…” I started, but shrugged, absently lifting my finger up to twirl a piece of her hair around one lone finger. “I don’t know.”

  The strand of hair felt like silk, giving the sheets underneath my back a run for their money.

  I wanted to bury the rest of my hand in it and never let go.

  “You were shaking the bed, and I couldn’t sleep,” she murmured.

  The smile that lit my face at that announcement had her shrugging.

  “Just being honest,” she admitted. “Are you okay?”

  I sighed and reluctantly let go of her hair, causing her to frown herself.

  “What?” I countered, not bothering to answer her earlier question.

  She blinked.

  “I guess I’m upset that you keep staring at my lips, and then not kissing me,” she admitted. “You keep touching me, looking like you might, and I work myself up to it, and then you don’t.”

  Before I could say a thing to that, she grinned and pulled away from me, heading toward the bathroom seconds later with my t-shirt hiked up high over her hips.

  And I realized two things.

  One, she was naked underneath my t-shirt, and two, I’d been sleeping next to her all night exactly like that.

  I rolled over onto my side, away from the bathroom, and tried to control the raging erection that was tenting the front of my sweatpants.

  I’d never, not ever, been unable to control myself around a woman.

  Until Belle.

  She came back to bed a short time later, and I had to tense my entire body to keep from reaching for her.

  Then, before I could tell myself that this was a bad idea, my control snapped.

  I moved until she was underneath me, but not one single piece of me was touching her.

  I stared at her in the dark.

  “I think you need to go to the other room,” I told her breathlessly.

  The only light in the room, the stupid light that came in from the moon that had illuminated her backside, was nonexistent in the bed.

  Meaning, I couldn’t see her face or judge how she felt by my new position.

  But I hoped that she felt threatened.

  She should, anyway.

  I was about to do questionable things to her if she didn’t get the fuck out of my bed.

  And even if she did, I didn’t know if I could stop myself from following her right out the door.

  But she needed to take that first step, because I knew that I couldn’t.

  “Why?” she asked.

  She didn’t sound scared.

  What was wrong with the crazy woman?

  Couldn’t she tell when a dangerous man was losing control?

  Because I was right there, on the verge, and seconds away from putting my hands on her when I knew that she didn’t like to be touched.

  “Because I want you. I want to touch you. I want to put my fingers inside of you. My cock. My tongue. And I want to not stop until we both have exactly what we want,” I growled.

  She breathed out swiftly, finally showing me the first sign that she wasn’t completely unaffected.

  “Who’s to say that I don’t want all those same things?” she asked, her breath once again fanning against my own.

  I shifted slightly, my body starting to tire now that I was holding myself so still over her. “I’m going to touch you.”

  She inhaled.

  “I’m going to press my lower body against yours. And then drop down onto my forearms and kiss you,” I continued.

  There was a long stretch of silence as I waited for her to argue or protest, but she did neither.

  I began to lower my body onto hers, one slow, agonizing inch at a time.

  I didn’t want to frighten her with my touch, too much too soon.

  So even though it damn near killed me—figuratively and literally—I took my time, until my lower half w
as pressed into her, and she was gasping for air.

  “You okay?” I asked, digging my lower half into her splayed thighs.

  She felt like heaven, and I hadn’t even gotten started yet.

  My hard cock pressed against her intimately, and it was then I realized that she wasn’t breathing.

  Fuck.

  “Belle?” I questioned and started to pull off of her.

  She caught me around the waist with her legs and held me exactly where I was before taking a deep breath. “I’m okay.”

  And she did sound okay.

  In fact, she sounded more than okay.

  She sounded excited.

  Which was a good thing because I damn well was, too.

  “Tell me if I do something you don’t like,” I ordered.

  She nodded, and the only reason I knew she did that was because I felt her hair slide up and down the sides of my chest where I was slowly starting to lower myself onto her.

  When I was in a more comfortable position, my chest now blanketing hers, I shifted my weight onto my left arm and used my right hand to trail up the side of her neck.

  My fingers encountered more hair than skin, so I gathered it all up and held it away from her before dropping my mouth to her throat and skimming my lips against her soft skin.

  She hissed in a breath, and I pulled back, waiting for her to protest.

  She didn’t, so I went back to it, trailing my lips up and down the length of her throat until goose bumps were pebbling her flesh. Once I was sure she was used to my touch there, I allowed my tongue to follow the same path, causing her to hitch in a breath of surprise.

  Her legs tightened around my waist, and it was then that I remembered that she’d been naked underneath my shirt—which had started this whole thing—and I was now pressed against her with only the thin fabric of my sweats separating us.

  “No,” she murmured.

  I paused, trying to figure out what had set her off.

  “No, I meant, No. As in short for Bruno. Shit. Keep going. Don’t stop,” she explained quickly.

  I grinned at that, going back to her throat with my mouth, laying soft kisses there now, while my free hand dropped from her hair to trail down the length of her body.

  My hand caught her outer thigh, and I teasingly trailed my palm down the back of it, allowing my fingers to move closer and closer to the part in her thighs with each sweeping touch.