He murmured something else, but she wasn’t listening, too busy trying to stay upright, because the floor was doing strange things it normally wouldn’t. Like moving.
“Really?” His voice again, much nearer this time. “Then why can’t you stand up by yourself?”
She blinked. “What? I am standing up by myself.” And then realized that somehow she wasn’t standing, but being walked through the bar, Rush’s powerful arm around her waist, his big, warm body at her side. “Wait. Where are we going? Are you walking me to my car? Because you don’t need to. I can take care of myself.”
He glanced at her. “You’re not going anywhere near your car, you little idiot. You’re coming with me.”
Okay, now that he’d said it, maybe driving was a stupid idea. “Where to?”
He didn’t smile. “Home.”
Chapter 6
Ava’s eyes went round as gold coins as they stepped out of Jack’s and onto the sidewalk. “Home? Whose home?” She was leaning unsteadily into his side, looking up at him.
Her body was warm and his hand fitted almost perfectly around the delicious curve of her hip. He couldn’t stop thinking about how easy it would be to lean down and cover that rosebud mouth with his. She’d taste like bourbon and sweetness, he just knew it.
What he didn’t know was how the hell she was messing with his head. Completely aside from the whole fact that she was getting into some deep shit on the say-so of some anonymous asshole, and that he’d just committed to trying to keep her out of said deep shit, there was also the little issue of how her hand on his leg had made his dick suddenly desperate for some attention. Usually it took at least nakedness, some writhing, and maybe a soft hand stroking him.
But no. Apparently Ava’s hand on his shin—his fucking shin, for Christ’s sake—was enough to get him interested. He shouldn’t have moved her hand up under the table, he really shouldn’t have. But…he just hadn’t been able to help himself. She’d given him that wide-eyed shocked look, as if she had no idea at all about what she was doing, and he’d been angry enough about it to show her what exactly that was.
He was a man of seasoned tastes. Highly seasoned.
One self-confessed virgin touching him on the fucking leg should not in any universe have gotten him hard.
Yet she had, and not only that, she’d had way too much bourbon to drive and he couldn’t take her home because he probably shouldn’t drive either. And he didn’t feel right about putting her in a taxi and sending her back to the sheriff when she couldn’t even stand up by herself. Unfortunately, that left him with only one option.
Taking her back to Lone Star.
Since when did you grow yourself a conscience?
Fuck if he knew. Whenever it had happened, it sucked. Because now he was stuck with a tipsy Ava who was leaning all over him and giving him those wide-eyed looks that made him want to show her precisely what she should be all wide-eyed about.
Wrong. Wrong. Wrong.
Christ. There was one thing he could do with her that should get things back on the straight and narrow. Remind them both of who she was. Who she’d always be.
“Come on,” he muttered, tightening his arm around her as they crossed the road, heading straight for the old hotel that now housed Lone Star Bounty.
Ava said something, but he didn’t pay attention, too busy trying to ignore the movement of her body against his as they walked. There wasn’t anything overtly sexy about it—she wasn’t wearing a G-string or a tiny pair of pasties or a stretchy dress that hid nothing. She was wearing fucking mom jeans and a shirt that could have kept Dolly Parton’s tits a secret, and he still couldn’t concentrate.
Fucking hell, what was going on with his stupid dick? He didn’t want Ava St. George. He didn’t.
“Oh,” she said brightly as they went through the hotel doors and into the dimly lit, shabby foyer with its moldering carpet, its dusty chandelier, and the smell that was cigarettes and sadness and the old bastard’s cigars. “We’re going to your home.” She gave a happy sigh and relaxed against him. “I remember this.”
As they entered, Zane and his girlfriend, Iris, came down the stairs, a small, bright spark of a girl racing ahead of them. Jamie, Iris’s sister.
“Jamie, wait!” Iris yelled after her, giving Rush a grin as she went past them and out the doors.
But Zane, the prick, paused, slowing and narrowing his gaze at Ava and then the arm Rush had around her waist. “Going somewhere?” he asked, his tone deceptively casual.
Dammit. This was all he needed. Mr. Super-Judgmental on the case. He gave Zane a fuck-you grin. “Yep.”
“Rush—”
“Hi, Zane.” Ava’s smile was wide, her voice only a little slurred. “How’s Jamie doing in that new school?”
“She’s doing great.” Zane’s intense blue gaze didn’t move from Rush’s. He didn’t say anything, just raised one dark brow.
Rush resisted the urge to give him the finger. Instead he urged Ava past his irritating brother and ignored him. He wasn’t damn well explaining why he had a drunken Ava leaning against him. If Zane suspected his motives, then let him. It wasn’t as if that was anything new. Being the bad guy was just easier sometimes.
He headed on through the foyer and down the hallway, right to the back of the hotel, pushing through the big double doors that led to the kitchen.
The massive room held long counters running along the walls, several huge commercial stoves situated at various points, and one large commercial oven. When his father had been alive, all the appliances had been disconnected, the only thing useable being the microwave and the big walk-in cooler that mostly stored beer.
However, after Zane and Iris had gotten together, Iris had had one of the stoves connected up so she could cook healthy food for when they visited with Jamie—whatever the fuck “healthy food” was.
At a long counter against one wall were several bar stools that Zane had dragged in from the bar. Rush pulled one out and had Ava sit down. She did so obediently, looking around her with interest. “Wow, this still looks the same as I remember.”
Rush said nothing, making sure she wasn’t going to tip over or anything before going over to the cooler and tugging the door open. There wasn’t much in there apart from the usual beer, but since Iris and Jamie had become part of their lives there was always some milk alongside. He didn’t even have to sniff the carton to make sure it hadn’t gone off, not with Iris on the case and looking out for her sister.
He grabbed the carton and came back out, going over to one of the shelves where they kept cups and hunting around for a glass. Finding one that at least looked clean, he brought it over to where Ava was sitting and set it on the counter, pouring some of the milk into it. She watched him, her eyes widening. “What are you doing?”
“What does it look like? Milk.” He pushed the glass in her direction. “Drink it. It’ll line your stomach a bit.” Without waiting for a response, he went to put the milk carton back in the cooler then moved over to the pantry, searching around among the packets of ramen and various other instant meals that he and his brothers usually lived on. There should be something here…he could have sworn…Quinn had better not have been helping himself…Ah. Bingo.
Rush pulled out the half-eaten package of chocolate chip cookies and came back to the counter where Ava was sitting. Pulling out a chair for himself, he thrust the cookie package at her. “Food. Eat.”
Ava blinked at it, then looked at him. “Milk and cookies? You got me milk and cookies?”
What the fuck are you doing? She’s not a kid anymore.
He scowled. Of course she wasn’t a kid anymore. That’s why his dick was still hard. There she was, the wholesome, redheaded, freckled little girl he used to babysit, and he wanted to fuck her so badly he couldn’t think.
He was the world’s giantest pervert.
He was going straight to hell.
He’d had to do something to remind them both of who’d she’d once
been to him. Something that would also ideally help with her little drunkenness problem. Hence the milk and cookies, just like he used to do years ago.
“Yeah,” he said belligerently, meeting her gaze, daring her to protest. “So if you don’t want to puke your guts out all over my nice clean kitchen floor, you’d better drink up.”
She blinked again at him, her mouth in a round O of surprise. Then abruptly she reached for the glass and took a deep, long swallow. He tried not to take any notice of the long, elegant expanse of her throat, or the cute way she wiped her mouth afterward; instead he busied himself with taking a couple of cookies out of the packet and sliding them across the counter to her like they were chips at a poker table.
“God,” Ava said, her voice all husky and soft. “That was so good. Just what I needed.”
And you could give her other things she needs. Things she doesn’t even know she needs yet…
His jaw felt so tight he could have ground steel with it. “Eat.” He tapped impatiently on the counter. “You’ll feel even better when you’ve got some food in you.”
Or some cock. My cock.
Holy fuck. Would his stupid brain just shut the hell up?
Ava picked up a cookie and took a tentative bite, her teeth small and white as they sank into the treat. She made a small moaning noise in her throat. “Oh my God, yes. These are delicious.”
She’s delicious. You’d like to bite into her…
He looked away and cleared his throat. “Eat up. You’re not driving anywhere tonight and I’ve had too many bourbons too, which means you’ll have to stay here.”
She chewed on her cookie and tilted her head, her gaze resting on him. “Why are you doing this, Rush?” she asked bluntly after she’d swallowed. “I mean, I got the impression you don’t like me much anymore.”
This time it was his turn to blink as he glanced at her. “What? Where the hell did you get that idea?”
“Well, you haven’t exactly been friendly.”
“Why, because I was trying to stop you from charging into a situation where you’re probably only going to get yourself killed? Yeah, sure. Not very friendly of me at all.”
She colored and reached for a second cookie, chewing on it as her gaze dropped to the glass of milk in her hand. “I thought it was because I didn’t come to see you right after you got out of prison. And you know, I’m sorry about that. I should have, but I didn’t. I was kind of afraid.”
Drunken honesty. Great. That was exactly what he needed to hear, that she’d been afraid of him. “What were you afraid of?” He didn’t want to know and yet he had to ask.
“Oh.” She sighed, looking down at her milk. “I was afraid that you’d have changed. That you wouldn’t be…my friend anymore.”
That hit him like a goddamn knife straight to the chest. She’d been a lonely kid; he’d always known that. Not many friends at school, and a father who barely spoke to her. She’d always told him, with the simple honesty of kids, that he was her best friend. He’d been proud of that once.
“No,” he said, hoping to hell his voice wasn’t as thick as he feared it was. “I’m still your friend, Ava.”
“Oh, good.” She glanced at him, giving him the sweetest smile he’d ever seen. “I used to have a giant crush on you, did you know that?”
Shit. He’d been hoping the situation wouldn’t get any worse, but nope, life was clearly hell-bent on fucking with him.
“A crush?” The word came out sounding weird, like he was trying to pronounce it in a different language and couldn’t quite get the accent right.
She gave an honest-to-God giggle and put the milk down, covering her face with her hands. “I shouldn’t have said that. I can’t believe I did.”
He just stared at her, astonished. Okay, so she must be way drunker than he thought, especially if she was confessing to crushes and giggling like a teenage girl. Perhaps she was mistaken. Perhaps she’d only thought she’d had a crush on him.
“You didn’t,” he said, as if by saying so he could make it true.
Ava lifted her head. Her hands were still covering her face, but she spread her fingers a little, peeking at him from between them. “I did.”
He didn’t like cute in a woman. In fact, he actively loathed it. Unless the cute involved her bending over naked, shaking her ass, and grinning at him from between her spread legs. That kind of cute he could do. But a girl peeking at him from between her fingers and blushing after confessing to a crush? Nope.
So he had no fucking idea why his heartbeat sped up. Why he suddenly wanted to lean forward until their faces were only inches apart, to stare at Ava until her blush was the color of an erupting volcano. Then slowly but surely pull her hands away so he could really give her something to blush about.
You. Are. So. Screwed.
His hands closed into fists. He liked experienced women. Women who knew what they were doing. Women he could walk away from without a backward glance because he knew they didn’t want anything from him, just like he didn’t want anything from them.
Which made virgins off-limits, along with any woman who looked at him like she wanted something more. Any woman who’d get herself hurt tangling with an asshole like him.
Women like Ava.
And the worst part was that she didn’t seem to realize the danger. Okay, she was drunk, but still. She was right to be afraid of him. Right to be afraid that he’d changed, because he had. Sure, he’d gone to jail for something he hadn’t done, but once inside he’d been as bad as the rest of them. He’d had to do things to survive that no sane person would choose to do. Things that had hardened him into the man he was now.
That man was not anyone a sweet little innocent like Ava should mess with.
“I’ve screwed up, haven’t I?” Ava closed her fingers, hiding her eyes. Then she lowered her hands, keeping her gaze on the counter. “God, this is so embarrassing. I swear I’m never touching bourbon again. Look, it was years ago and…” Her voice trailed off and she reached compulsively for her half-eaten cookie. “Can we forget I ever said anything?”
Oh no, she wasn’t doing that. She wasn’t telling him that kind of shit and then taking it back.
Before he could examine too closely why he might feel so pissed off about that, he reached out, took her round chin in his hand, and tilted her head up.
Touching her? Yeah, not such a good idea, dick.
So much not a good idea. Her skin was very smooth, very soft. Very warm. Nothing a man with his kind of past should be touching.
But he didn’t let go.
“No. We cannot forget it,” he gritted out. “Why the fuck are you telling me?”
She was staring at him in that big-eyed way she had, and he noticed there were cookie crumbs at the edge of her lower lip. He moved his thumb absently, brushing them away.
Big fucking mistake, asshole. What the hell are you doing?
More softness. And smooth, like a velvet pillow.
Ava opened her mouth, her breath catching audibly. “What are you doing?”
“Answer the fucking question.” He was leaning closer toward her, his heartbeat accelerating in a way it hadn’t done with a woman for years. He had no idea what was wrong with him. “Why the fuck would you have a crush on me?”
“I…I was a teenager.” Her voice had a husky edge to it. “You were my friend. And I thought you were…hot.”
A teenage crush because he’d been a friend. Christ, she had no idea. By that time, he’d already started down the path that had led him to eight years in a jail cell. The path that had begun with his mother’s deathbed confession that she’d been seduced by a skip years ago. That he was the result. That he wasn’t the person he’d always thought he was.
Let her go, prick. She’s not for you, so stop playing with her.
He was going to let go. Swear to God he was.
At least he had been until Ava’s small pink tongue darted out and licked his thumb.
—
&
nbsp; It was the cookie crumbs. She knew they were there, she could feel them on her lip. And he was staring at them. And all she could think of was that she didn’t want cookie crumbs on her mouth when she was face-to-face with Rush Redmond, who was holding her chin and staring at her in a way that made her forget to breathe.
So she tried to lick them away.
But they weren’t there. She’d forgotten that he’d brushed them away in a touch so gentle, so soft, he’d stolen all the air in her lungs. All the air in the whole room.
There weren’t any cookie crumbs on her lip, only Rush’s thumb. Only his skin. Hot and salty and…unexpectedly delicious.
Oh, you idiot.
As soon as her tongue touched his finger, a spark flared in his eyes, a deep intense green, and she couldn’t look away.
Her tongue was tingling, her lip acutely sensitive. Like she’d burned herself sipping too-hot coffee. But it wasn’t pain she felt, it was something…different. Something new. Something that made her pulse beat so loud in her head she felt nearly deafened.
“That was a very stupid move, little girl,” he said, his voice rich and deep and rough.
She wanted to tell him she hadn’t meant to. That she was drunk and she’d thought she had cookie crumbs on her lip. That he was confusing her with the way he looked at her and the things he said.
You’re not confused, though. And it’s not milk and cookies you want from him.
Oh boy. He was right, that had been a very stupid move. Because now that she’d had that one taste of him, she wanted more. Wanted to see what would happen if she did it again. If she took his thumb into her mouth and sucked…
Not sure he’s a boundary you should be pushing.
No, he definitely wasn’t. Yet she couldn’t seem to help herself. Perhaps it was the drink, or perhaps it was only her own stubborn nature leaking out from behind the image of the coolly controlled cop she made sure was always firmly in place.
Perhaps it was just him.
Whatever it was, she couldn’t resist the urge, putting her tongue out again and licking the tip of his thumb, the taste of him hitting her senses like another shot of bourbon. Watching him as that brilliant flare of green lit up in his gaze.
Take Me Harder Page 9
