Hearts Series Bundle: Books 1-6

by Sabrina Lacey

  As I tiptoe toward the stairs, I realize that Dad heard me come in, in the dead of night, and already had his shotgun pointed at me, so what the fuck am I doing? Sneaking is the wrong way to go about this. With all of my weight, I change tactics and walk into the living room like nothing is amiss.

  “Well, look who’s up. Bathroom’s that way.” My dad says with a quick glance my way before he looks back to the T.V.

  “What are you watching?”

  “What does it look like I’m watching?” He doesn’t look back to me. So I watch the screen for a couple minutes as my mom comes in and puts a beer in front of him and reaches to take away the empty one. “Thank you,” he mumbles. She smiles and I shake my head at the complexity of their relationship. I’ll never understand them.

  “You’re watching Orange Is The New Black?” I ask, glancing over to his jacket on the table behind us. Next to it are his keys.

  Dad picks up his beer and takes a swig. “Great fucking show,” he says, reaching to the remote to tune me out with louder volume.

  This gives me an idea. “Hey, Dad, I was thinking…”

  He turns up the volume louder. I glance over to the kitchen and see my mom’s back as she cleans the stove with a sponge and big bottle of yellow liquid. Probably something organic, knowing her. Taking a couple steps closer to the keys, I continue, “What if I moved back in here with you guys?”

  He snorts, eyes glued to the screen.

  There is no way in hell I would EVER move back in here. I’m thirty years old for Christ’s sake. “Why not, Dad? I’m tired of living in the city.”

  “I’M TRYING TO WATCH MY DAMN SHOW!” he bellows, throwing up his arm in disgust and looking to the side. He grabs up the clicker and hits the volume yet again and just as he does, one of the girls starts a fight in the onscreen bathroom. Their catfight masks the sound of my dad’s keys being quietly lifted from the table.

  Walking to the den, I clutch the keys to my chest like I’m holding my wounded shoulder, grumbling loudly, “Alright! Alright! It was just an idea! I’m going back to sleep.”

  In the den, I close the door and dash to the window, pulling it up and biting down my yelp of pain as I climb out. My feet fall with a crunch onto the plants outside. I look toward the kitchen window, waiting to see if Mom heard. I don’t see her pop her head out, so I rush to the fence and out to the street to climb into my dad’s Ford pickup and drive back over the Golden Gate Bridge.

  My phone I left in the den. If they do check in, without the GPS that’s lodged in it telling them where I am, there’s no way they’ll find me. Not until I want them to. The pain in my shoulder is pounding. Even though I was careful, I irritated it to no end just now.

  But I don’t care.

  All I care about is getting to Rebecca.

  19

  Brendan

  M.R.I. Experience: weird, but cool.

  Lung: on the mend. Wound: stretched a little, but good enough.

  Eyes: on Annie’s ass as she walks out of the hospital first, since I’m a gentleman.

  ________

  “Do you want to drive?” Annie asks me, moving a soft lock of hair behind her ear as we leave the hospital.

  “No, that’s okay. You can drive, but thank you for that.”

  She nods. “I wish I’d brought your shoes back.”

  Walking barefoot along the pavement, I say with a laugh, “It’s okay. I’m just happy to be out of that room. I wouldn’t have cared if I left wearing one of their hospital gowns.”

  “The jeans and jacket with no shirt combo is very hot, by the way,” she smiles and reaches for my hand, like it’s the most natural thing in the world for her to do. I keep my eyes forward, but I’m very aware of her next to me. Walking out into the real world with her by my side feels natural to me, too, and that’s what makes it strange. I’m normally not this comfortable with the women I’m interested in, because that interest has always had an inevitable end-date.

  Distracted by these thoughts, I let her hand go and carefully lower myself into her car. She gets in and we both shut our doors at the same time, saying nothing, the silence charged. As she puts the car in gear and looks behind her back to reverse out, I glance to her face and see her mind is just as full as mine, so I sit back and focus on the dashboard. It’s got a thin layer of dust on it and I mentally make note to have it detailed for her when I’m up and running again. I know a carwash that does a great job with interior detailing; I’ll take it there for her as a thank you for helping me.

  “Where do you live?” she asks, as soon as we’re at the exit.

  “Go left. My place is just a couple blocks up from your bar.”

  She smiles, instantly wistful. “Oh… right.”

  I know what she’s thinking, that we were supposed to go there that night. I’d promised her it was nearby and… “Yeah.”

  She cuts a glance to me as she turns the wheel, checking her rearview. “Burgers first though, yes?”

  A grin spreads on my face instantly. “Right! I forgot. Burgers! Zoe’s is great.”

  “That’s on Mission, too, yes?” I nod. She smiles and heads in the direction of home. God, I can’t wait. “Tell me about your job. Do you love it?”

  Grateful for a familiar subject, I launch in, telling her all the things I love about my job; the people, the creativity it affords me, the pay. She listens to a few of my campaigns and shows real interest, asking good questions, really listening. When we get to Zoe’s, we’re still talking about it, stopping only to order a couple of burgers and fries to go, with a salad to share. We take a seat at the bar while we wait and Annie opts not to drink, but I get a Sazerac, one of their signature cocktails because she wants to taste it, see what the competition is doing.

  “Well, it’s not really your competition, since you don’t serve food. You want to promote that, too. Show what you are, clearly, so that people know what they’re getting.”

  She leans forward a little and puts her head on her hand, facing me on her bar stool. “What am I, exactly?”

  “You’re a dark and classy lounge bar for the hip, up and comers who want to get together with friends, or make out in a dark corner if they’re really lucky.” I grin at her as she looks at my mouth, hers spreading into a slow smile.

  “You nailed that,” she says.

  My grin fades and I lean in and kiss her. She receives the kiss and bites her bottom lip, licking it as I pull away. She tries the drink and likes it, and we go back to talking about Location Times Three until the burgers arrive.

  Walking outside, she points to her car. “See, told you we wouldn’t get a ticket.”

  I chuckle, shaking my head. “Parking in the red in this city is begging for a ticket.”

  After she opens her door, she looks at me over the top of the car. “I would normally agree with you, but I think you and I are fresh out of bad luck.” She tilts her head to the side and shrugs both shoulders before dipping down and getting in.

  I lower myself in, holding the bag of food, and give her my address. Then I take a deep inhale. “Annie?”

  She’s looking to her left to see if traffic is coming. “Yeah?”

  I take in her profile, her arms bent at the elbows, her hands gripping the wheel. As I follow these, my eyes naturally fall on the radio. It’s off. I didn’t even notice it was off. “My place is really close to here, so you’ll want to drive slow.”

  Annie pulls out onto the street and mumbles, distracted by traffic, “Okay. I can do that.”

  With my eyes on the cars in front of us, I’m stunned and silent. I was just about to give her the speech. I was going to tell her what I tell all of them, not to get attached. ‘I will be seeing other people.’ Everything Rebecca and Teri, and probably all the others, have memorized. The voice that is always in my head saying, Protect yourself, said a louder, Don’t.

  20

  Rebecca

  Dress: black lace, see-through, long sleeved, lingerie.

  Panties
: what panties?

  Bra: you’re kidding, right?

  ________

  Inspecting myself in the mirror, I’m feeling pretty fucking sexy. My nipples are sensitive little tips, poking through the lace in their excitement, or fear. Both, I’d imagine. The dress, if you can call it that, falls less than an inch lower than my hips. I can see everything, and so will he. If he shows up.

  In my five hundred dollar pumps, I stroll back into the bedroom and bend to start the fire, my hands shaky. As soon as I get the kindling to flame and lick the thick, oak logs, I rise, wondering What time is it? Glancing up at the antique clock, I’m disappointed to see it’s twenty after nine, and I walk to my phone. But just as I’m about to dial, I remember what he said: I might not have my phone. Don’t call me.

  “Dammit!”

  Looking frantically around the room, I walk to the window and peek out the curtain, looking at nothing, really. With the phone smacking repeatedly against my open palm, I pace the room, the warmth of the growing fire fanning the flame of my anxiety.

  “What if I just lit a fire for no one? Jesus, Rebecca. This is bullshit. Call him.”

  I slide the phone open. Hold my finger to his name. The door knocks and my head flies to it, my long, overly-brushed hair flying. Tossing my phone onto a chair, I go to answer the door, wringing my hands. I don’t even pause before I swing it open.

  Tommy’s standing there in his normal, casual, well-cut style, a jacket half-zipped over black jeans and boots, his olive t-shirt bringing out the sparkle in his hazel eyes. Taken aback by what I’m wearing, his sexy smirk twitches and his eyebrows raise up. I say nothing. Neither of us has said a word. I straighten my back, my normal response to nervousness. A lady can get away with anything. He slowly rakes over me with an appreciative stare, a surprised breath escaping him as he meets my stone-like stare. .

  “Come in.” I turn and walk into the room, glancing over my shoulder, hoping to catch him in the act of looking at my ass. He is, and instantly I’m glad he came. That look is exactly what I needed.

  “And here I thought we were going to talk,” he says, one corner of his mouth turned up.

  I turn around in a slow circle as he closes the door and locks it. “What? We are. I don’t want you to do anything. Except open that wine you’re carrying.”

  21

  Tommy

  What Rebecca Wants: a shoulder to cry on.

  What Rebecca’s Going to Get: a whole lot more than that.

  ________

  Walking up the steps to The Inn, I realize I don’t know what room she’s in. Using my charm, I get the room number out of the girl behind the desk without much trouble. “Do you have a wine opener?” She nods, leaves and returns with one in a matter of seconds, along with two wine glasses, looking at me like I’m the sweetest boyfriend she ever saw. If she only knew.

  “Is this the night?” she asks, handing me the glasses.

  “Yep. Tonight is definitely the night.” Just not for what you think.

  “Ahhh…” she says, her head tilting in that way women do when someone gets engaged.

  “Yeah.” I smile at her and leave to take the stairs two at a time. Walking up to Room 10, I knock with my free hand, the one with the bad shoulder. In the other, I’ve got the fifty-dollar bottle of wine cradled, the glasses held upside down by their stems. This’ll loosen her up.

  The door opens and before me stands one of the most beautiful women I’ve ever seen, in what can’t even be called a dress. Her long hair hangs over one shoulder, covering one of her silhouetted breasts. The other is bare save for a sliver of lace and I glance to her nipple, see it standing up and saying hello to me, as hard as it can get. Holy fuck. Below her sweet little belly button is a delicate landing strip that would make me hard in an instant, except I can’t get one nagging question out of my head. I wait until we’re inside to ask it, because I can’t stop myself.

  “Did you buy that for Brendan?”

  She pauses, her hands defensively flying up to cover herself. A frown creases her pretty eyebrows. “No. I bought it today.”

  I nod and stroll to a table to open the bottle. My eyes land on the fire, the heat from it warming my left side, soothing the ache of my wound. I close my eyes for a second.

  This is your moment, Tommy. Don’t let that fuckhead Brendan ruin one more day of your life.

  “Hey. I’m sorry, Bec. It’s just... I’m not sure what you’re doing calling me.”

  What a load of bullshit that is.

  22

  Rebecca

  Tommy: looking pained, almost tortured, as he opens the bottle.

  My Conscience: riddled with guilt that he feels used.

  ________

  If I’m honest with myself, I wanted him from the first moment he walked into Brendan’s living room with that smile, those sparkling eyes, that sexy, confident swagger. There is no denying it now that I’m watching the muscles of his arms work as he turns the corkscrew – I want this.

  “I’m sorry, Tommy. Maybe I shouldn’t have asked you to come.”

  He cuts his eyes to me. “I can leave. Do you want me to go?”

  I shake my head and walk up behind him, slide my arms around his waist and press my body to his as he tenses, his whole body rigid… at first. He puts down the bottle, and turns quickly, wrapping his right arm around me and searching my eyes.

  “Say you don’t want me to go.”

  I blink and look at his lips, the taboo place I was never supposed to be. “I don’t want you to go.”

  His eyelashes sweep down. “You’ve got a body like a twenty-one year old, Bec.”

  I melt, and before I know what’s happening, he turns me around and pushes me toward the bed. I catch myself with my hands, my oh-so-short dress riding up and showing him my backside.

  “Stay like that,” he says, eyeing me, walking from side to side like a Panther in a cage.

  I’m bent over, my arms straight, my breath shortening, excited. “I didn’t know if you were going to come,” I whisper over my shoulder, my face half-shielded.

  “Why’s that?” He walks closer and lowers onto his knees.

  I hesitate, and whisper, “He said he was going to tell you not to come.”

  Tommy smirks and runs his fingers up my leg to the back of my knee, and even more slowly up my thigh until he shifts directions and travels inward. “Oh, I’m going to cum. But you first.” I gasp as he lunges his tongue into the crack of my ass. His fingers slip inside and work the folds of my pussy, playing with my clit and slipping inward to penetrate me. I’m shocked, but he’s so good at this that I can’t help but moan, my back arching on its own.

  He says on a thick rasp, his fingers still working, “Louder, Bec. You paid for the room.”

  He shoves his tongue in again, defiling me until I moan so loud that he pushes three of his fingers in and makes my body quiver with a huge release that brings tears to my eyes. I cry out and rub my ass against his face, savagely aggressive, unchained by society’s conventions as I have never been. He doesn’t stop, one wasn’t enough, and I feel the sharp, burning tingles burrow deep inside me all over again as his fingers pulse in and out of me. I’m losing my mind, feeling like I can’t take it. It’s too much! He licks my cheeks and bites me hard as I quake again, crying out as he wiggles his hand in place and pulls out to cup me and vibrate his strong fingers, until I literally fall apart, collapsing on the bed in front of him, everything wet.

  “That’s my girl,” he growls, pulling up my legs and, with one arm, turning me over with the speed of a U.F.C. wrestling move. He grunts a little with the move, and his eyebrows knot, but only for a second. He unzips his pants as I rise up on my elbows to watch him separate my weakened knees with his legs. First one, then the other. Boom. Boom. I’m lying here, on display, his eyes locked between my legs. He drops his pants and shows me what he’s working with - thick, full, and long – a cock that explains why he has so much swagger.

  My eyelashes slide u
p his tight, muscular body half hidden under his shirt, wondering why it’s still on. I meet his eyes, a torrid, animalistic stare that looks back at me as he strokes himself and puts on a condom. Oh good. Just like Mark and Brendan, he’s all for protection. Now that I think about it, they probably just don’t want to get anyone pregnant so no one can stake a claim on them or their great genes; the cocky motherfuckers.

  He grabs my legs and drags my ass to the end of the bed. But he moved too quickly, and he cries out and muffles a slew of swear words.

  “You okay?” I ask, surprised.

  He winces, glancing to my legs, my body open and waiting for him. He’s looking at me like he’s searching for strength. What is going on?

  He nods, pushing away a frown. “Yeah. Just pulled something at the gym. My shoulder’s a little sore. It’s all good.” He flashes a sexy smirk and lifts up my knees, wincing as he does.

  “That must have been some work out,” I say.

  “It was.”

  “Well, it was worth it, because look at you.”

  He glances to me and something’s behind his eyes, like he heard what I said in a different way than I meant it. “It was worth it,” he smiles.

  I hook my feet around his hips, impatient to have him inside me. He’s made me his with the carnal devouring he just pulled on me. There was no shame in it, and that’s contagious. I feel free. I want to feel that free all the time, not just now. I want to be free every second of every minute of every day, for the rest of my life!

  Bending his knees a little, he cuts his eyes to mine to watch my face as he plunges his cock into me, growling, “Oh, you’re so fucking wet, Rebecca. Oh fuck!” He closes his eyes and hammers me, holding my legs up high in front of him as he moves, undulating and dipping and getting in deep and hard, moving faster and faster, then slowing up skillfully, knowing how to work it. I claw onto the blankets and clench my teeth under moan after aching moan. We’re panting and groaning together, moving with every thrust, and it is spectacularly fucking hot.