by Cari Quinn
“Mia.”
Shoulders shaking, I let my hair cover my face. I shut my eyes, tight enough not to feel the sting of the water. Maybe if I concentrated hard enough I’d wake up in my bed alone. The way things were meant to be.
Somehow he knelt in front of me in that tiny space and thumbed my hair back, holding it away from my cheeks. My eyes opened but I couldn’t make out his features. He’d turned opaque. A shadow of what might have been.
I blinked, over and over, until his face restitched into what I knew. Until he became more real than the haze in my mind that so gleefully wanted to take me under.
That strong, stubborn forehead, the nose he’d broken. His high cheekbones, the slash of his generous mouth. And the stark fear in his gorgeous, wounded eyes. Even the one that was unharmed reflected pain. I would’ve ached for him too, had I had any reserves left.
“Dammit, Mia.” His lips formed words I could barely hear over the roar in my head. “Listen to me.”
“You don’t want me,” I said through chattering teeth. Of course he didn’t. He wouldn’t. I still had bruises all over me, inside and out. One wrong move and they’d start to bleed.
They already were.
He gripped my waist and lifted me on his lap, spreading my legs so that they fell on either side of his hips. Opening me to him so that with a heartbeat, a breath, he was inside me. Filling me up and chasing the darkness away. Mine, his. They were so different, but right then, they were exactly the same.
“Hold onto me,” he rasped near my ear.
I dug my fingers into his shoulders, his arms. Scoring his skin with my nails. Small hurts that he welcomed with low grunts against my neck. His uneven breaths centered me in the eye of the storm. For once, I wasn’t alone. Warm water poured over us, cocooning us in our need, and together, we rode out the ecstasy. Nothing existed except pleasure. No thought, no regret. Only pure emotion that he gave me with every driving stroke that broke me open and sewed me back up. With him, I became whole.
The hunger built, rising, rising. Crowding out everything until I couldn’t inhale without feeling him in every pore. He took over everything. Became everything. Each sensation piled together, multiplying the intensity of them all.
He slid his hard, thick length so deep that I tipped backward, freefalling with only his strong hands to anchor me. The stream hit me full in the face, and he pressed his open mouth to my throat, sucking, licking, leeching the water from my flesh. Pulling more from me than I’d ever given before, then returning it tenfold.
My shoulders met the shower wall, and he didn’t stop thrusting, driving me up until I could look down through the spray and meet his hazy blue eyes. So blue. Even the one that was puffy and sore. Focusing on me had to hurt him, but he never looked away as I neared the peak, then shot right over it.
He whispered things, dirty, muffled ones. Then sweet, loving ones. Mixing them together until his voice and the endless flexing of his hips tripped me into another orgasm, stronger even than the first. I couldn’t keep from crying out—or latching my teeth on his shoulder and biting down, hard.
Quivering, I wrapped myself around him and kissed the closed eyelid of his injured eye. He had wounds too. He’d bled.
I’d made him bleed, and he hadn’t run yet.
He drew back with a harsh gasp, yanking himself from my body a second before his hot release pulsed over my belly. While I was still recovering, still processing, he cleaned me off with a handful of cool water and gathered me up in his arms. He turned off the water while I stared up at him, stupefied into silence.
How did he keep doing this to me? He unraveled me with a look, a touch. Turned me into this trembling, feeling creature who not only craved pleasure, she even believed she deserved it.
He stepped out of the shower and let my feet lower to the floor. But he didn’t let me go. “You never have to get on your knees for me. I’m not like those other men. But want you? Want you?” Pressing his forehead to mine, he gripped my chin with shaking fingers. “Jesus Christ, Mia, if I wanted you any more, I wouldn’t be able to breathe.”
Before I could fumble through a response, he bundled us both in towels, then swept me up in his arms and carried me out the door. Past my wide-eyed, gap-mouthed sister, who still had her arm raised as if she’d been about to knock. Past his dog, who trotted toward us until he caught Tray’s beady-eyed stare and plopped his butt on the rug.
“We’re going to bed,” he said over his shoulder, presumably to Carly. She might’ve answered, but I was too busy burying my flushed face between his shoulder and neck to hear. “Goodnight.”
Without another word, he carted me, towel and all, to my tiny ass twin bed and hauled me so close that his heart beat a steady rhythm against my back. I still hadn’t wiped the dazed smile off my face when he softly started to snore.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Tray
I woke to the smells of sausage, eggs, and various baked goods. Rolling over, I pressed my cheek into a pillow that smelled like Mia and savored the heavenly scents wafting over me.
Then the arguing began.
At first it was a low hum, like a hive of bees exiting their nest. It rose steadily, punctuated by an occasional expletive-rich outburst. I already had a headache, and their shrieking didn’t help. Then came an unholy screech and “I’ll screw him if I want to and you can’t stop me!” followed by the vicious slamming of pots and pans and the incessant beep-beep-beep of a smoke alarm.
I figured that must be the crescendo.
Eyes still closed, I fumbled on the floor for my pants. They weren’t there. I opened my one functional eye and peered around, searching for something that resembled my clothes. No dice. They must still be in the bathroom. Or else Mia had burned them in effigy during her war with her sister.
At least I still had my towel. I got up and hitched it around my waist, deciding to skip a bathroom run until I ascertained no one was dead and the place wasn’t actually on fire.
Yawning, I headed down the hall and stopped dead on the threshold to the small kitchen. It looked like it had been attacked. Smoke curled up lazily toward the ceiling from a simmering pot on the burner. Flour and other powders spilled over the counter and littered the floor. On every surface were open boxes and bags of ingredients, most of them erupting their guts. Even my dog lay atop a pile of cornflakes, happily gnawing on a bone I hadn’t given him.
In the center of chaos stood Mia and Carly, both of them covered in substances I couldn’t identify.
And they were staring at me.
“Where are your clothes?” Mia snapped.
“Don’t get dressed on my account. Really.”
Mia slapped her hand over Carly’s eyes, which earned a high-pitched squeal any weasel would’ve been proud to call his own. So that sound Mia made when she was pissed was a family trait. Good to know.
“Fox, at least put on your damn pants.”
So we were back to Fox. Figured. It had been nice while it lasted.
I strolled over to the stove and leaned up to fumble with the still screeching smoke alarm. Once I’d silenced the noise, I snatched a cooked sausage link and turned to face the frowning women. “This is great,” I said, chewing.
“Glad your stomach’s satisfied.” Though Mia didn’t sound glad at all.
“Not all he got satisfied,” Carly muttered, earning a sharp side-eye from Mia. “Nice to see you’re allowed to have sex and I’m not.”
“Carly Ann, you’re being disrespectful. We have a guest.”
Even I had to laugh at that. “Yes, I’m company. I expected a spot of tea and look what I got.” I gestured to the messy floor.
Neither of them seemed amused.
I took another sausage link and bit in. Delicious. “So who do you want to screw?” I smiled when Mia turned her death glare my way. “Just making conversation.”
“You really don’t want to know.”
“Oh yes, I do. Especially now that you’re so sure I don�
�t.”
Carly clamped her arms over her egg-smeared chest and cocked a hip in a gesture identical to Mia’s current stance. “Giovanni. I don’t want to screw him, necessarily. I just want a chance to get to know him without your freaking girlfriend snarling and slobbering all over him.”
“Giovanni,” I said. “You can’t mean—”
“It’s him, Fox.” Mia looked like she was ready to club her sister with the nearest object. In this case, the industrial-sized box of pumpkin bread mix that appeared to have been gnawed open by giant rats. “She’s got the hots for the guy who did that to your eye.” Marching forward, she grabbed me by the head and dragged me toward her sister, skirting the lump of dog on the way. “Look at his eye, Carly. The poor man’s practically blind because of that Neanderthal and you want to have sex with him?”
Carly shrank away as if Mia had presented her with a bloody carcass. “Owie. I’m sorry, Fox.”
“Thanks.” I twisted out of Mia’s hold. “Cool the show and tell, Dr. Science.”
“I don’t see how you can be mad at me when I’m only going out with him to help you and your boyfriend out. He never would’ve agreed to fight you otherwise.”
“Carly, can it.”
“You had us both dress up like freaking hookers and now you’re acting all high and mighty just because he might like me and I might like him. Frigging hypocrite.”
I swallowed the last of my sausage and propped a hip on the table. The support would probably come in handy. Or I could always slam it against the wall. “You dressed like hookers, huh? Tell me more.”
“It’s nothing.” Mia developed a sudden fascination with her nails. “I knew he’d need persuading since he wasn’t answering my calls so we—”
“Persuaded him?” I interrupted pleasantly, cracking my knuckles. “What exactly did that entail? Be specific.”
“She had us get dressed up in titty tops and short skirts.”
For a second I had no voice. Literally none. “Titty tops?”
Mia cursed under her breath. “Don’t be stupid. It wasn’t anything. I didn’t touch him and he didn’t touch me.”
“I have a picture!” Mia made a grab for Carly but she was too fast. Carly tapped buttons on her phone and tossed it to me just as Mia snatched her arms. “Look, Fox. See?”
Oh, I saw. Mia looked luscious in a low-cut shirt—titty top seemed like an accurate description—and a skirt that barely covered what I’d had my mouth on last night. And again this morning when she’d woken to find me between her legs.
Lifting a brow, I opened Carly’s email program and attached the picture, sending a copy to myself before returning her cell. “So you dress up for him in a way you wouldn’t for me. Correct?”
Mia pushed her hands through her sexy bedhead hair. “I did it for you, you jackass.”
“Is that so?” I didn’t know if I believed that, not with her need for money and notoriety on the line. But part of me ached to believe. A very large part.
Not the one beneath my waist either. I’d call that medium-large, with occasional reaches for greatness.
“It’s so.”
I stepped forward and grabbed her waist, pulling her close. “For the record, I prefer you without clothes.” I bit her earlobe. “And that part of you is all mine.”
“Now who’s a Neanderthal?” She elbowed me back, but there was no missing her smile. Carly clearly didn’t, because she looked between us as if she couldn’t quite trust what she was seeing.
I knew the feeling. Ever since I’d walked into Mark’s last night, I’d been waiting to wake up and return to the way things were before my injury. I’d caged all the elephants in the room—her nearly telling me about her past, her upcoming fight with that bastard—just to live in denial a little longer. It was worth it.
“So what does the dress-up thing have to do with Costas and Carly?”
Mia averted her gaze. “She offered to go out with him if he fought me.”
“No,” I said immediately. “Not happening. Off the table.”
“Excuse me?” Carly pushed Mia aside and got in my face. Like sister, like sister. “Balling Ame doesn’t mean you have any right to say what I do.”
“You’re about to step on my toe.” I kept my voice mild as I glanced down at Carly’s sharp-heeled boots. “I wouldn’t advise that. I also wouldn’t advise you to insult my relationship with your sister, which isn’t your concern if I’m not allowed to be worried about your welfare.”
She stepped back and angled her head. “I’m not a child.”
“No one said you were.” I gentled my tone. “He’s a prick, Carly, and not because he beat me. I’ve heard some stuff that would change your mind about him.”
“Like what?”
“For one thing, he’s been in prison.” For petty shit, best as I remembered, but I didn’t elaborate. In my mind, being in prison for something small was similar to being a little bit pregnant. Neither status existed.
She tossed a quick glance at Mia. “You’re sure about that?”
“I’m as certain as I can be without seeing his arrest record. He’s also been with a lot of women. He’s not nice about it when he’s done with them either.”
Whether I tacked on that last bit for Carly’s benefit or mine, I wasn’t sure. I wasn’t exactly a saint when it came to women myself. In fact, my relationship with Mia—if it could be called that—was probably the longest I’d ever had.
Forget probably.
“What else?” Carly demanded. “He kicks puppies and robs grannies of their lunch money?”
“Isn’t that enough? You don’t want to get mixed up with him. If you don’t trust your sister’s opinion, trust mine. I know his type.”
“That’s all people are to you? A type?” She looked back and forth between Mia and me. “You don’t think people can change?”
This shit was getting way too deep for this early in the morning. I rubbed my aching sinuses. I’d need another hot shower just to breathe. “I’m giving it to you straight. You do with my advice what you want.”
I wasn’t about to tell her that I didn’t much care if she heeded my warning since I’d be delivering a much stronger version of my speech to Costas very soon.
“Does it hurt a lot?” Carly asked in a small voice. “Your eye?”
I dropped my hand from my head. “Well, it’s not—”
“Yes, it hurts a lot,” Mia interjected. “If I stuck my fist in your eye, would it hurt?”
“I don’t know. How about if I put my fist in your mouth and we’ll see?”
“Ladies—”
They edged toward each other, fists up. If this had been a porno, it might’ve been hot. In real life, I really didn’t relish trying to separate these two, especially since I only had one intact eye left.
Mia lowered her arms and let them hang at her sides. “I just don’t want you to get hurt.”
With obvious reluctance, Carly did the same. “You’re worrying for nothing.”
“You’re all I have,” Mia whispered, her voice thick. “I won’t let anyone harm you, ever. If that makes me a horrible big sister because I love you so much, well then, fine.”
Tears welled in Carly’s eyes. “I love you too. You know that.”
“Yeah.” A tear rolled down Mia’s cheek. “I do.”
Carly rushed into Mia’s arms and they started doing the same rocking/dancing/sobbing thing they had the first night Mia had brought me home. That lasted about five minutes. Then they pulled apart and with mutual water-logged grins, started cleaning up the mess they’d made.
“Man, I’m glad I was an only child.” I stepped over my dog to go look for my clothes.
When I returned wearing my jeans—and only my jeans—the kitchen was back to rights. Mia stood at the counter, chopping vegetables. Carly manned the oven, using oversized mitts to lift out something in a big casserole dish.
They were cooking for an army. Not that I minded. I was hungry enough to do a dece
nt imitation of one.
Carly glanced up at me and grinned. “Hey good-lookin’.”
Mia sighed. “Fox, why are you still half naked?”
Still Fox. I might never be Tray again. “You owe me a rub down, which I sorely need.” I returned Carly’s grin and sauntered over to Mia. Sliding my arm around her waist, I pressed a kiss to her hair. “I wanted to make it easier for you.”
“You’re worried about me, Sis?” Carly snorted. “This dude’s asking you for sexual favors right in the middle of breakfast. Actually, before breakfast.”
“We covered that hours ago. Catch up, squirt.” I laughed as Carly stuck her tongue out at me.
“I have to finish these vegetables for our omelets. I’m due at work soon.”
“Okay. I’ll go hang upside down and hope the mucus drains out on its own. Since I can’t blow my nose and all.”
Carly transferred her casserole dish back to the oven. It looked like a quiche, only thicker and fluffier. “What happens when you blow your nose?”
“You don’t want to know.” Mia reached in the cabinet above her head for a small jar. “Go on and sit in the living room. I’ll be right in.”
Shaking her head, Carly took over on the vegetables. “Kinky bitches.”
I walked into the living room and stretched—Mia’s twin bed hadn’t done much for my back—before perching on the arm of the sofa. “What time do you get off?”
Mia tapped her chin as she came toward me. “I think it was around ten, ten thirty and four a.m.?”
Her grin caught me completely off-guard. I liked it a lot. Hell, I loved it.
“You forgot four thirty and four forty-five,” I murmured, tugging her between my legs.
“No, I didn’t. Trust me.”
“You guys are sick,” Carly called.
“Rephrasing my question.” Hoping her sister was occupied mixing or stirring or pureeing, I rubbed Mia’s ass, enjoying the way it filled my palms. “When are you done tonight?”
“Four. Then I have three hours at the gym.” She unscrewed the top of the jar and a minty scent filled the air.
“Perfect. Let’s go out.”
