Spitfire Suckerpunch (House of Pain Book 2)

by Lavender Parker

  Finally, she smiled. It was a small smile, but it was good enough.

  “Now I want to know,” he said, running his thumb under her chin. “I want to hear you say it.”

  “Say what?” she asked, even though he knew she knew exactly what he was talking about.

  “That you love me. I want to know,” he said, hearing the demanding tone in his voice. She heard it too and she gripped his shirt tighter. She would probably want to punish him for it later, he thought, his dick going hard at the thought. But for now, he wanted what he wanted and he didn't care if he was demanding. He wanted her to say it, goddammit.

  “I love you,” she said, the words clear and sure. Then she kissed him, smashing her lips against his like she wanted to punish him right then and there. He groaned into her, wanting that just as much as she did. He didn't give a shit who was around. He circled his arms around her waist and lifted her off her feet, pulling her against him. She let her bags drop to the floor and threw her other arm around his neck, not fighting him in the least. It wasn't a frenzied kiss, no. It was a slow, deep kiss, a kiss that promised more to come. It was a kiss that he was going to remember until the day that he died. His girl loved him and if he had his way, he was going to spend the rest of his life making her happy. The rest of his life was starting with this kiss and he wasn't ever going to forget it.

  “I want my keys back,” she said, when she pulled back to take a breath.

  “Keys?” he asked, pretending like he didn't know what she was talking about. “You mean the keys you threw in my face?”

  “Yeah. Those keys,” she said. He shook his head, not feeling like making it easy on her. She'd fucking killed him when she'd given the keys back, so he had no intentions of not making her work for it.

  “Say please,” he said, knowing she was going to make him pay so much later. He couldn't fucking wait. She cocked an eyebrow, her eyes flashing and he knew he was in trouble. He couldn't stop himself from smiling at the thought. “Say it,” he demanded.

  “Please,” she bit out, like it pained her to do so. He chuckled, untangling himself from her and then leaning forward to grab her bags off the floor.

  “Maybe,” he said with a shrug as he side-stepped around her and headed toward the locker room.

  “Maybe?!” she called after him. “Boy, you better give me those keys!” He glanced back at her, grinning from ear to ear like the cat that ate the canary.

  “Come and get them,” he said, pushing open the locker room door. She narrowed her eyes at him and glanced around. Austin was doing his best to pretend he wasn't paying attention to what they were doing, bless him, but both Sids were staring at them from the ring unabashedly. Hector, Gennifer, and Mikhail were nowhere to be seen, but Erica and Tiny were watching them in the mirror at the free weights. Tate smiled harder because pretty soon everyone would know. He was in love and he didn't give a shit. She hesitated for a second but then followed him to the locker room door.

  “I'm going to make you suffer for this,” she said with a smile as she pushed past him.

  “I can't wait,” he said, letting the door swing closed behind them.

  Epilogue

  One Year Later

  The music was booming. Shay could hear it echoing in the cold night air as she and Tate hurried up the street to Maria and Big Jimmy's brownstone. She hadn't been in the mood for a loud New Year's Eve party, but Tate had practically forced her out of the apartment. She'd been moody and depressed as the one year anniversary of her father's death had come and gone with little fanfare. She didn't know how much fun she was going to be around, but Tate had been an angel, as always, so she'd felt the need to say yes when he asked her to go to his parent's party with him. He'd guilted her it into it, really. She was so weak when it came to him. So weak, it was almost pathetic. It was just so damn hard to resist him.

  Especially if he said please.

  Tate held her hand as they pushed through the front door and they were suddenly right in the middle of his huge family. Earth Wind & Fire was blasting on the stereo and all the furniture had been pushed against the walls to make room for dancing. Gennifer, her big belly stretching out the front of her tight red dress, was the first one Shay saw as they walked in, and she threw her arms out with a big smile on her face.

  “You came!” she exclaimed, pulling Shay into a hug. Gennifer had gotten a lot more affectionate as she had grown more and more pregnant. She always claimed it was hormones, but it was still a little unnerving for Gennifer to be so nice all the time. Not that Shay minded all that much. The more she'd gotten to know Gennifer, the more she liked her. That went for all of Tate's family, actually. Even Brandon. “I have gossip,” Gennifer whispered in Shay's ear.

  “If it's about Tiny and Austin, I probably already know,” Shay replied back. “And if it's about Hector and Erica, I don't want to know.” Gennifer rolled her eyes and smiled wide.

  “You're no fun,” she said with a laugh.

  Tate took their coats and got them drinks and the night passed surprisingly fast. Shay was having more fun than she cared to admit as it neared midnight. She danced with Tate, who was less awkward on the dance floor than he had any right to be, as well as Big Jimmy who demanded a dance. Tate's father was a big guy, but he was a surprisingly limber dancer. Shay was almost sad when the dance ended and Tate pulled her back toward him possessively.

  Almost.

  She noticed how Tiny stayed on the fringes of the crowd, interacting with the family only when necessary. Shay was tempted to pull Tiny and Gennifer into a room and force the girl to tell them the whole sordid story about what had happened with Austin. Shay only had part of the story, but it was obvious the poor girl was in distress. The problem was that Big Jimmy, Hector, and Tate didn't know that anything had happened between Austin and Tiny. And it had to stay that way for Austin's sake. Tiny didn't want to make it too obvious that something was wrong.

  And then there was Hector, pretending to be happy as he smiled and danced with his new girlfriend. The woman seemed nice enough, but everyone in the family knew he was still in love with Erica. It was only a matter of time before he tried to crawl back to her for the umpteenth time. It was an annoying cycle, but Shay couldn't quite blame him. She knew what it felt like to not know how to love someone. She knew what it felt like to be lonely. Luckily for her, she'd learned how to stop getting in her own way. She'd learned it from Tate. As the clock counted down the minutes until the new year, she leaned against her man and closed her eyes and thanked God for him for the millionth time.

  At thirty minutes to midnight, Austin showed up, wearing a three piece suit like he'd just come from a fancier party. Tiny disappeared in the kitchen and Austin pretended like he didn't notice. Instead, he shared an odd look and a hushed conversation with Tate. Shay wondered what the quiet conversation was about but before she could find out, Gina and Thalia walked through the door.

  “Auntie?” she asked, completely surprised and confused. “What are you doing here? I thought you were going downtown?” Gina opened and closed her mouth, like she didn't know what to say. Thalia bit down on her lip and giggled, like she was trying to keep from speaking as well. To see two of the most loudmouthed people she knew so quiet was disconcerting, to say the least. She turned back to Tate, a strange feeling taking over her. She had a feeling something was happening and she had no idea what. “Did you invite them?”

  “It's a holiday,” he said with an unconvincing shrug.

  “What's going on?” she asked, her eyes locking on his. He shook his head and she felt her stomach jump into her throat. She could feel everyone's eyes on her and suddenly the music wasn't playing any more. She glanced around at all the familiar faces, knowing something was up. He was planning something, keeping something from her. And everybody else knew, too. “What is it?” she repeated, glancing at Gina. Gina just stared back at her, a goofy smile on her face, giving her no hints.

  “I was going to wait until after midnight, but since
no one in this damn family can act natural, I guess I'll just do it now,” Tate said, clicking his tongue and shaking his head.

  “Do what?” she asked, even though she had a feeling she knew. He'd been acting strangely all afternoon, looking out at her out of the corner of his eye when he thought she wouldn't notice and being more quiet than usual. She'd thought it was because of the date, or maybe because she'd handcuffed him to the bed and then had her way with him all morning, but now she wasn't so sure. Now she was sure it was something else, something a lot more life-changing. He turned to Austin and held out his hand. Austin fished a little blue box out of his pocket and gave it to Tate, a smile teasing his lips. Shay's heart dropped all the way to the shag carpet beneath her feet. “What's that?” she said dumbly, although she knew.

  “I had to hide it from you,” Tate said, rolling the small box around in his big palm. She let out a shaky breath as she held out her drink toward her aunt. Gina took it, thankfully, before she dropped it. She didn't know if any of her muscles were working properly at that moment. “Shaylene 'Sugar' Spears,” he began, his eyes on the box and not on her. She felt her mouth drop open as the reality of the situation fully dawned on her. He was definitely proposing, she knew it with certainty. She knew it before he dropped to his knees in front of her. She felt her whole body clench when he finally looked up at her, his green eyes catching the light in a beautiful way.

  She loved him like this, on his knees and looking at her with so much awe that she thought she was going to burst if she didn't kiss him or touch him. She had so much love for him it was scary sometimes. Even though she was busy with school and the salon and he was busy with work, they'd fallen into a perfect daily routine. They ate together and they slept together and when they couldn't be together, they texted like teenagers. She couldn't imagine her life without him. He'd helped her so much after her father's death, his presence alone was a godsend. He was a good man—dependable, sexy, strong. And he'd even agreed to let her get a dog. Life wasn't perfect, it never would be. But it was as close as Shay could imagine it being.

  And now he was making it even better.

  “Shay,” he said again, his voice lower this time. “I want to make you happy.” She heard her aunt's voice to her right, but she couldn't focus on anything but Tate. She didn't want to hear anything but the words he was about to say. “I want you to let me make you happy,” he said, and she brought her hand up to caress his cheek.

  “You do make me happy,” she said lightly. He wrapped his hand around hers and brought it in front of his face.

  “You've been wearing this ring since the first day I met you,” he said, his eyes on her mother's engagement ring. Her mouth felt dry as he ran his thumb over the top of the cheap stone ring. She ran her tongue over her lips, not bothering to care that she was probably fucking up her lipstick. “I respect why you wear it, but I'm a selfish man. I want you to wear my ring.” He dropped his hand to the open the box he was holding, revealing a princess cut diamond on a plain platinum band. “Shay, will you marry me?” he said.

  She heard a low whine escape from her throat as the reality finally hit her. This shit was real. Tate Grayson was proposing to her in front of both of their families. He was asking her to marry him. She didn't know if it was the heat of so many bodies crowded into the small house, but she suddenly felt woozy. Then he looked up at her through his eyelashes, a dark look under the love in his eyes. “Please?” he added, his tone sending a shiver up her spine. It was a tone she was well used to, and a tone that wasn't exactly appropriate for anyone around them to hear. It was only for her and him, when they were alone and he was begging. But at that moment, she didn't care. She just wanted to fling herself on top of him and kiss him into the ground.

  “Yes,” she said before she'd even really thought about it. She didn't really need to think about it, actually. There was nothing to think about when it came to Tate. There was no one better for her than him in the whole wide world, of that she was certain. Besides, she didn't want anyone else. He blinked up at her like he couldn't quite believe it was as easy as that. To convince him that she was indeed serious, she started sliding her mother's ring off her finger. She was surprised at how easily it came off. After so many years of wearing it, she had an undeniable attachment to it. But she wanted Tate's ring more. He deserved to see his ring on her finger. He deserved to know that she was his girl and no one else's. After all they'd been through, Shay didn't mind a little tradition. He pulled his ring free of the box and slid it on her newly bare finger and then everything got noisy. Everybody started whooping and hollering and clapping, but Shay didn't care. She only had eyes for Tate.

  She flung her arms around his neck and peppered kisses all over his face. He struggled to stand and then lifted her off her feet, wrapping his arms around her waist and holding her to his chest. She wanted to stand there in his arms for a lifetime, but she knew they were being watched. “They're so loud,” she whispered in his ear. “Why'd you do it in front of them?”

  “So that you'd have to say yes,” he answered, his breath tickling her cheek. She laughed, pressing her face to his neck and breathing deep.

  “Even if it was just the cat watching us, I would've said yes,” she said, not caring if he heard her or not. She knew she was going to have to let him go and let the family swarm them with congratulations, but for that one second, she wanted him all to herself. For all the years she'd spent lonely and angry and afraid, she deserved that one second. For all the years he'd spent alone, he deserved it, too. They were never going to be lonely again, though, of that Shay was certain. Because of Tate, she had more family now than she'd ever had. There was more than enough love to go around. But for that one second, she was selfish; she wanted him all to herself.

  Then the clock struck midnight and the new year officially began.

  In the best possible way.

  The End

  ***

  COMING EARLY 2016

  BEAUTIFUL BEATDOWN

  (HOUSE OF PAIN #3)

  Fatima 'Tiny' Dejardins may be shy and she may be too skinny and she may be deaf, but she's never backed down from a challenge. She pulled herself up from a childhood of poverty and heartbreak in Haiti to be a successful college student in one of New York City's most prestigious universities. She has a loving family and a full school schedule. If she was as smart as everybody says she is, she wouldn't have looked twice at Austin Stratford. Rich, cocky, and devastatingly handsome, he's not the kind of man Tiny would've ever met outside of the walls of House of Pain.

  The problem? She did meet him. She witnessed his knowing smile and his dimples and his skill in the ring firsthand. Now she can't get him out of her mind. When he comes to her with an innocent proposal, she can't turn him down. She can't let the opportunity to get closer to him pass her by. Austin has no idea what she feels for him. No one does. But that doesn't mean she's going to back down. By the time she's done with him, he's not going to know what hit him...

  Enjoy this preview from Lavender Parker's THE BURNING ONE, available now!

  Chapter One

  February

  New York, New York

  Chadwick Benedict entered the art gallery on the far side of Chelsea with much fanfare. It seemed he couldn't do much these days without garnering attention. Paparazzi bulbs flashed and people in the small crowd gathered outside screamed his name, but he couldn't make out any particular faces. He didn't take the time. He moved quickly from the big black SUV he arrived in to the cool white loft. Finally the door was closed firmly behind him, and things quieted down. Rolando and Freddy, his two bodyguards, positioned themselves in front of the door and Chadwick was free to roam the art-filled space. It was blissfully, if deceptively, empty of human activity. He knew her people were buzzing around in the back, prepping for tonight. Tonight was the opening, but he'd thrown his weight around and gotten in early to see her work. A perk of being famous. When he heard she was finally back in the states and out of her self-im
posed exile in South America, he knew there was no way in hell he would miss seeing her work. And buying whatever pieces he liked the best, no matter the cost.

  The last three years had been a whirlwind of mind-blowing success and excess, but even before he was rich, he had been no stranger to the art world. He'd grown up around artists, successful and starving. His mother Colletta had been of the starving variety for most of her career. It was only after her death that her name grew famous and her pieces grew expensive. Indira was his mother's superstar student, taught during Colletta's stint at Columbia University. Although he had never met the reclusive woman, he knew her story well.

  Born in India in the late '70s, but raised all over the world, Indira Zacharia Frederickson was the daughter of a British aristocrat and an Indian woman. She'd grown up rich and sheltered, and was considered by many to be charmingly eccentric. She found her first success in her early twenties, when Archie Travers, the famous art critic, discovered her toiling away in her Brooklyn studio on her most well-known piece, Ophelia On The Bank. As a teenager, he had seen the massive Ophelia when he visited the Tate Modern in London, where it hung. Since then, he'd been somewhat obsessed with the mysterious woman. He was drawn to her style. Her work was primitive. Unhinged. Now somewhere in her thirties, she was bordering on irrelevant. But this show would be her comeback. He knew it the second he saw her new work.

  He was no art critic―in fact, he disliked the elitist, racist assholes―but he could sense that her work was powerful. He was immediately drawn to a large, textural canvas, hanging from the ceiling. The slick black oil paint bulged and dripped, the imperfections catching the light, and it made him think of sex, somehow. Unforgettable sex, rough and hard and messy. He raised his hand to the gold chains on his chest, flipping one of big diamond pendants between his fingers.