by Harlow Cole
“The vultures,” I finally answered. “They’re here, just like they always were.” My hand roughly cupped her cheek. Fingertips pressed into her hairline. “Wanting what’s mine.”
The pad of my thumb rubbed harshly across her bottom lip. Back and forth. Erasing anyone else who’d pressed up against it.
“I’m not yours.” The denial came out as a whisper, a silly little breathless lie.
“Yes, you are,” I said forcefully. “You always will be. And I think I’m fucking done with playing nice about it.”
I didn’t give her a choice.
Or bother stopping to evaluate where this fit into my master plan.
My lips just forced their way onto hers, rebranding the skin that used to hold my mark. It was harsher than I’d intended, but jealousy burned a toxic path right through me. I had to wipe away the last inch of that guy’s words with the taste of her mouth.
Prickly sparks shot up my spine. My cock went from slightly pissed off to diamond hard. Dude didn’t want to hear my head whine any more about patience. He’d waited four long fucking years for this, and she tasted too much like sweet memories and promise to turn back now.
My hand tangled up into her hair, turning her so I had a better angle to suck on her bottom lip.
I should stop myself.
I knew that.
But greed wouldn’t let me.
Neither would her low, needy whimper. It gave me the perfect opening.
My tongue plunged into her mouth, igniting every possessive nerve in my body at once. Both my hands slid down her hips till I cupped her round ass and pulled her flush against me. She melted into me, the fight and resistance evaporating behind shared lust and primal need.
“I hate that he’s touched you. Fucking hate it, baby girl.” I barely pulled back to murmur my angry words against her lips. “Fucking hated every second you were with him.”
One of her hands threaded into the hair at the back of my neck, tugging me hard back toward her. I forced my tongue back inside her mouth, thrusting it in and out. Circling slow. Withdrawing just enough so she’d feel it good when I drove back deeper, demonstrating what I really wanted to do to exorcise Pink Polo’s memory.
She gave as good as she got. I don’t know how I ever thought we would have some trophy hello kiss. A sailor coming home to dip his girl over his arm. We never worked that way. We never kissed syrupy sweet on the front porch. Not from our very first time in the hall outside her room.
Kissing Ashley always felt like everything but the final act. Pulling closer, grabbing harder. Brutal, hungry lips. Biting. Hot, heavy breathing. Grinding. Praying for pauses to catch hold of a single breath.
Her lips were always a full-fledged addiction all their own. With absolutely no tolerance, I should have prepared myself to get totally fucking stoned from the first hit.
She moaned against the continued onslaught. Her nipples pebbled against my chest, coaxing me to dig my fingertips harder into her ass. I nestled her fully against my tortured cock. That poor bastard had activated his homing beacon and was motherfucking desperate to feel any part of her rubbing up against him. He wasn’t gonna feel ashamed for trying to frantically dry-hump her.
“God. So. Fucking. Good.”
My teeth plucked against that pouty top lip. As I was about to lift one of her legs up against my hip, to give my cock a better angle, her two little fists loosened their death grip on my shirt. They reared back instead to pound against my chest.
Drawing away, I looked down at her with hooded eyes. I watched in disbelief as her face morphed from sheer need to undoctored anger.
Her mask of pride snapped fully back into place.
It looked funny next to her shiny, swollen lips.
Her index finger jabbed into my chest. “You can’t . . . we can’t . . . don’t do that again.” She dragged the back of one hand across her mouth, like she naively believed it could wipe us away. “You can’t just come in here all Neanderthal, act like you have some kinda territory, and manhandle me. You’re no better than Preston.”
“Manhandling? Is that what you want to call what just happened here?”
She nodded, but I didn’t miss the way her breath still caught in her chest.
I smirked.
“Fine. Tell you what. I’ll wait for you to come to me, if that’s how you want to play it. I’ll wait for you to beg even, if you want. But know this. I’m done playing nice, Ashley. You never liked it nice anyway. I think the time’s finally come for me to start reminding you.”
6
Strings Attached
Ashley
“Why are you in such a pissy mood?”
I stirred a spoon through my watered-down crab soup, one of the only half-edible creations in the crappy cafeteria where we’d eaten too many meals. The place smelled like antiseptic and burned shoe leather—the perennial special on their weekday menu.
“Just wish they’d come and give us the results,” I replied. “We could use some good news.”
Nathan leaned back in his wheelchair and looked away from me. “Yeah, well, don’t hold your breath.”
We were waiting for the results of one more MRI. One more confirmation of what they all kept telling us. On paper, the surgery last year still looked like a complete success. The experimental procedure we’d decided couldn’t possibly make things worse, should have made them better. There should have been groundbreaking progress. The doctors all thought the nerves were healing enough that he could regain feeling. Move. Stand. Maybe even learn to walk again.
Only he wasn’t.
Couldn’t or wouldn’t?
I’d squashed down that annoying doubt for so many months. They had to be missing something.
Why would he choose to stay in that chair if he didn’t have to?
My phone rang while I studied his sullen profile.
“What’s up?”
“Hey. It’s me,” Logan replied. “I know you’re busy, but we kinda have a weird situation here. I think you’d better stop by on your way home. I’m not sure how you want to handle this.”
“Handle what? What’s going on?” My voice had enough concern, my brother turned with furrowed brows.
“We got a new tenant this afternoon. I know you said I could fill out seasonal contracts, but this guy sounds like he’s looking for something more long-term, and his request is . . . well, this whole situation seems a little unusual.”
“Uh, okay. I’ll be there as soon as I can.” I disconnected the call and stared down at my phone.
“What’s that all about?”
“I don’t know. Logan wants me to come by. I’ll take you home first and then—”
“No, it’s fine. Let’s get out of here. Doc will call us.” He rolled his chair back from the table. “I’d rather get bad news over the phone anyway.”
I discarded our trash and followed after him, trying to recall images of him as that optimistic, easygoing boy I used to know.
* * *
“What the hell is that?” Nathan asked as he hoisted himself down into his chair.
My mouth couldn’t produce an answer. It was hanging open too wide. He pushed his way toward the ramp near the back of the dock house. Logan stood, waiting there, with an older gentleman in an old-school captain’s hat. As we got closer, I shielded my forehead with one hand, so I could fully soak in the magnificence of the sleekest luxury yacht I’d ever seen.
“Holy shit. That thing has to be at least a hundred feet,” Nathan said.
“She’s a hundred twenty. Pure beauty,” the older gentleman corrected, holding out his hand in greeting.
I shook it and tried to soak in his words.
“Name’s Jake Resnick. Brought her up from West Palm Beach. Was told to deliver her to ya and sign for you to keep her. Gonna take up four or five whole slips I’m afraid, but luckily, looks like you folks have some room to spare right now. I have a check to cover the security deposit and to prepay the first three months’ rent.”<
br />
“Paperwork all looks legit, Ash. You just have to sign.”
“How did this . . . who . . . did my father send you?” I took the papers from Logan’s hand, searching for details that would fill in the gaps.
The owner’s name was listed as a trust.
A name I didn’t recognize.
Five slips times three months. My mind turned over the numbers. I might’ve had a lifelong hatred of algebra, but even I knew that added up to a crap-ton of money. Not to mention, the free advertising. This thing would cause a stir. Everyone sailing by would see her. Want to gawk at her. Park next to her.
My finger trailed down over the fine print. I set it down on the counter and picked up a pen to sign at the bottom.
“This might be the best gift my guardian angel has ever . . .”
The exuberance died in my throat. Words caught as I noticed the name buried halfway down the page.
“Have you captained this yacht before?” I asked, trying to cover the budding anger I didn’t want my brother to hear.
“No, ma’am.” His fingers smoothed over the gold braided strips on the cuff of his jacket. “Purchased a few weeks ago from what I understand. Detailed and retrofitted for the new owner. Renamed, of course. I don’t know much more than that. They just hired me on to bring her up here safely. This is my retirement gig. Used to sail much bigger boats for the Navy.”
I didn’t mean to be rude, but I’d started walking away before he even finished his explanation. I needed to see it for myself.
“Ash? Everything okay?” Logan called out from behind me.
My strides grew longer, my pace more impatient, as I neared the end of the dock. As I drew closer, my perspective changed. The thing grew taller, lurching up right out of the water. It completely overpowered me with its hulking size.
The sleek lines of the design were capped off by glistening silver rails and polished teak decking that glowed like honey in the midday sun. I reached the stern and peered down at what I already knew I’d find.
Toward Happiness.
St. Michaels, Maryland.
“Goddamn it, Brayden.”
* * *
I didn’t bother to knock.
Never have before. Why start now?
Voices filtered in from the back patio. I stomped my way toward them; the paper half-wadded in my fist. He was deep in conversation with a guest—the tall, athletic guy I’d seen him with at Foxy’s that first night. They were seated at the table, inspecting a mass of papers spread out before them.
“I’m telling you, with these latest results, I know this will work. I just need you to get him . . .” The guy’s words tapered off as he looked up at me.
Brayden turned suddenly with wide eyes and a raised brow. “Ash?”
“What part of no don’t you understand?”
They both blinked.
I rested my hand against my hip and prepared to dive. “I know it’s not a word you hear from many women, but do I look like I want to be your charity case? I told you I wasn’t going to take your goddamn handouts.”
His friend gathered the papers into a stack and scraped his chair back to stand. “Uh, I’ll just give you guys a minute.”
He shyly smiled at me. His kind eyes seemed oddly juxtaposed to his hulked-out body and armful of tattoo ink. On closer inspection, he looked more WWE wrestler, or renegade superhero, than he did a ball player.
He walked off in the direction of the guesthouse.
Brayden pushed his chair back and stood, sliding his cap around backward to unveil those wicked eyes. His board shorts and wifebeater tank highlighted the tan earned from all his sailing. A cocky grin lit his face as he pushed against a lock of hair that had fallen across his forehead.
“I guess she arrived, huh? You didn’t have to bring me the contract personally. Is she a beauty? I promised Evan he’d get to smash the champagne bottle, but you and I could christen her in a different way.” His voice rumbled, deep and sexy to match his lewd suggestion and the accompanying fuck-me eyes.
“I’m so done with you.” I pinched the bridge of my nose between my fingers. “You’ve got to stop all of this. You’ve got to go back to New York and leave the past where it belongs.”
“Can’t do that. Not till I get what I came for.”
“What the hell did you come here for, Brayden? That’s what I keep asking. What I can’t figure out. Do you think this is fun? You came here to fix your arm and just decided it would be sporting to mess with the rest of us while you’re at it? What kind of a sick bastard are you?”
He rubbed his hand across the scruff on his jaw as he stepped toward me. “I came because it’s time.”
“Time for what? For you to wave your money around like a magic wand? That’s not gonna work. News flash, you live inside a fairy tale. You don’t even know reality anymore. Come wear my shoes for a day. I’ll serve you a double helping of the real world. There’s no magic that can change the past. It needs to stay buried. Where it belongs.”
“I disagree.”
“Yeah? Well, that just makes you sound like a lunatic.”
I closed my eyes and tried to channel my need to launch myself over and smash him right in the nose.
“You said you didn’t want a handout. I’m not giving you one.” He shrugged with sarcastic innocence. All the muscles at the top of his shoulders bunched up near his neck. “Just needed a place to park my boat. Simple as that.”
I snickered at his pathetic attempt. “How the hell am I going to explain this to my brother? He’s going to ask who that behemoth belongs to. He’s going to find out you’re here.”
“Ash, by now, I’m sure your brother already knows I’m in town. You need to let me see him. I can help him, too. More than you know. At least let me try.” His Adam’s apple bobbed as his voice grew thick. “I came back here because it’s time to heal more than just my arm.”
I hadn’t even noticed him swallow up the distance between us, crowding me like always. I needed to wind myself up in yellow caution tape, so the motherfucker would back up off me.
He did it on purpose. He knew it left me off-balance.
“You feel it, don’t you?” he asked softly. His index finger trailed down the side of my arm.
On the drive over, I’d promised myself I wouldn’t let him touch me.
“Feel what? Annoyance that you still don’t get the concept of personal space?”
“The pull between us. That thing that happens as soon as we’re in a room together. The burn.”
“Most people call that indigestion. There are home remedies for it. You should try one.”
He chuckled low in his chest, amused instead of put off.
I turned my back on him to stare across the lawn toward the water’s edge. The blue expanse stretched out beyond us with too many miles of better-forgotten possibilities.
“You can still feel my hands, can’t you?”
Hot breath lingered near my ear. I could smell his aftershave, almost feel the prickle of his two-day beard.
“Molded to your hips. Digging into that sweet spot right where your thighs meet your ass. Did you let yourself dream about it the other night after I kissed you?”
The side of his jaw lightly grazed the skin on my right shoulder. Not close enough for contact, just close enough to tease.
“Did you close your eyes and imagine my middle finger coaxing you open while my tongue pressed flat against your clit? Did you touch yourself, thinking—”
“Stop,” I ground out the command on one long exhale as I clenched my hands into fists.
“I dreamt about that noise you make in the back of your throat right before you come. It’s what I hear every time I squeeze my cock in my hand.”
“Brayden.” Turning abruptly, I pushed with both hands against the hard wall of his chest. “You have to stop this.” My voice grew more demanding. Unfortunately, so did my desperate need. My body was reacting too violently, recalling too much about the dirty things he’
d whispered.
He grabbed ahold of my wrists, refusing to let me go. “I don’t think you want me to stop.”
Warm lips barely brushed across my temple. My breath came out in short, panting bursts. He slowly released me, letting my hands fall back to my sides.
“Close your eyes, and feel me, baby girl. Let yourself remember how good we are together. Think about all the things my hands love to do to you.”
Fingertips grazed across the flimsy strap of my tank top.
“Don’t.” I meant it to sound like a direct order, not a sad plea for mercy. I glared up at him, fighting tears that wanted to form. “Why are you doing this to me?”
“Because I want you. And you want me. Give in to it. It’s that simple.”
His words threatened to break me open.
Giving in to simple notions could only lead to more extravagant pain. For me. And for Nathan. How would my brother ever face the person who’d ended his future before it ever began? Simple choices no longer existed as a luxury for me. I couldn’t let Brayden spin me up into his make-believe.
“You really think anything between us could ever be simple?”
“Yes,” he answered without hesitation.
“Then, you’re a fool. Nothing was ever that way for us. We didn’t start out simple. And you made certain we didn’t end that way.”
His eyes narrowed as my biting words hit their easy target. He eased back away from me, face somber. I took greedy gulps of air, trying to calm my body and clear my mind, as he strode slowly back toward the table.
“You’ve turned down my offer to help you financially. And you’ve turned down my offer to take care of you physically,” he added with hardened impatience. He fingered a piece of paper left sitting on the table. “I hope that doesn’t mean you’ll be the fool and turn down my request for a favor.”
He turned back to face me, holding out a crisp white page folded into thirds. My name was scrolled on the outside in black ink.
“I was going to bring this by later, but since you’re here now . . .”
