Weary and worn down, Silver drifted over to the window and looked out at the quiet, still street. There had been a time when he’d very much liked the calm of a sleeping world, of being the only person awake in the wee hours – but this was different.
He drank his whiskey and thought about the maddening conundrum that was Jolene Angeles. Despite receiving three pretty damn great job opportunities before Christmas, the woman had declined the interviews politely, but very firmly. His contacts had told him that she’d been resolute: she wasn’t even slightly interested in leaving the employ of The Road Devils. Not for any fancy office job or title or bump in salary.
Was she sticking around just to torment him? To make a point?
He drank again, pondered that issue as hard as he was able to at 3 a.m. and being as fucking exhausted as he was from the accumulation of sleep deprivation. And his mental faculties were undoubtedly messed up – he was starting to forget things at work, and he was zoning out in the middle of conversations with the guys – but he was still able to recognize paranoia when he saw it. And thinking that Jolene was staying where she was just to piss him off was, undoubtedly, totally paranoid.
So why was she staying then?
Is she interested in one of the guys?
He threw back the rest of the shot, ambled back over to the whiskey bottle for a refill, thought about that new perspective on things. He’d been surprised how upset he’d been when he’d found out from Zoe that Jolene had spent Christmas Day with Scars, Zee, Keira, Wolf, Jinx and Kansas.
And Cowboy. Of course. Seemed like every time Silver turned around lately, Jolene and Cowboy were together somehow.
Oh, Silver was sure that Christmas Day had just been a meal and watching Keira enjoy playing with the boxes and wrapping paper, and Silver had turned down the invitation that Scars had extended for him to come anyway, even before he’d known about Jolene being there. He’d spent Christmas alone and drunk and watching movies, as he always did, and he was thrilled to have avoided an awkward situation in close quarters.
And yet, and yet…
If she was interested in one of his brothers and that budding romance was her reason for sticking around, why did that bug him?
Watch out for the paranoia, man. It’s creeping in. Thank Christ you’re out scouting parts in Nevada from tomorrow… a break from all of this crap will do you good.
He sighed and drank deeply, then stared at the street some more. No lights on in any houses, but then again, there were none on in his. Silver was standing alone in the dark – and he had been for a long, long time.
**
At nine o’clock, Silver dragged himself into The Garage. He was feeling rough as hell, even after four coffees, and resolved to stop drinking goddamn whiskey at 3 a.m. pretty much every night. He’d made that resolution before, of course, so he knew that he wasn’t going to fucking follow through, and that made him even angrier.
He nodded curtly at the guys, in zero mood to exchange pleasantries. He’d never been particularly affable or warm, but he knew that lately he’d been coming off as a prize dickhead to his brothers. Jinx had tentatively asked him the day before if he was OK, and Silver had been as cold and distant as possible, shutting the other man down completely. Silver hated himself when he was like this, but at this exact moment, he didn’t have a clue how else to be.
He strode into his office, shut the door and sat at his desk, already dreading the day ahead and wondering just how the hell he was going to get through it. It all just felt so impossible.
There was a knock at the door, and he shut his eyes and sighed.
Be nice now… come on. Dig deep.
“Come in,” he called, aiming for a ‘welcoming’ tone of voice, achieving closer to ‘seriously disgruntled’.
The door swung open and Drake stuck his head around it cautiously. “Hey, man.”
“Hey.”
“Jo asked me to let you know that she needs to see you when you get a chance.”
“Why the fuck doesn’t she come down here and tell me that herself, if it’s so fucking important?”
Drake paused, cocked his blond head at Silver, clearly taken aback and quizzical. “Ummm… because she came in at seven-thirty, we had coffee together, and she asked me to pass on the message. She knew I’d see you on your way in and she wouldn’t. What’s the problem?”
“No problem.” Silver spat the words out between gritted teeth. “None at all.”
“Really? ‘Cause it seems like there’s a problem.”
“No. And anyway,” Silver said, seizing on something else to bitch about. “I thought she took a few extra days off and wasn’t back until tomorrow. What the hell’s she doing here already?”
“I don’t know,” Drake responded, clearly irritated now. “Why don’t you ask her? She’s exactly fifty steps away, just up the stairs there.”
“Fine.” Silver got to his feet. “I will.”
“What’s your fucking damage lately, man?” Both Drake and Dux were famously patient men and it took quite a bit to piss them off – they were former Enforcers and they knew how to keep their cool in any situation under the sun – so Silver blinked a bit. If he’d managed to get a rise out of Drake Keeler, then he must be pretty damn insufferable. “Like seriously, what the actual hell is your problem with Jolene and life in general?”
“Nothing. Now get back to work.”
“Sure, sure,” Drake muttered. “I’ll be delighted to get away from you, that’s for certain.”
Silver stalked out of his office, refused to meet the eyes of any of his brothers standing around working. He was not in the mood for Jolene, not in any way, shape or form. No way and no fucking how.
He stormed up the stairs and practically yanked the door off its hinges, not even knocking. Too damn bad if she didn’t like it. That was when he saw Jolene for the first time in over a week… and he was suddenly off-kilter and -balance, wondering if he’d finally started hallucinating from exhaustion. Because the woman sitting at Jolene’s desk looked exactly like his Ana, like her in every single goddamn way and his confusion doubled, tripled, as he tried to fully take in what he was seeing.
But Ana is Jolene, remember?
Well, yes she was – and no she wasn’t. The woman that Silver had met at The Roaring Red had had a certain look, a certain attitude, and Jolene had seemed to go out of her way to dress in the exact opposite way, though it had to be said that at very selected moments, she definitely had the feisty and sassy spirit that Ana had exhibited.
But this Jolene? This one was new, brand new, and so damn familiar to him. This one looked like Ana.
She’d clearly spent some time and money over the holidays at a beauty salon and doing some serious shopping. Her nails were painted a sort of mocha color, her full lips matched; she was wearing new earrings and she had a thick gold cuff encircling her elegant wrist. Her lustrous hair was down – not in one of those unflattering tight buns or droopy ponytails – and it had been trimmed a bit. It curled and cascaded over her shoulders in dark waves, and he was stunned to see that the gray hairs were gone from along her temples, dyed a glossy black. A part of him was pissed off that he was noticing all this kind of small shit about the woman, but a bigger part of Silver remembered how it had felt to grip the softness of her hair in his fingers as he’d moved her sweet mouth over his cock, directing her for his pleasure.
But the most stunning thing about this new Jolene was what she had chosen to cover her lush body with. That night at The Red, in that fire-engine-red dress, she’d called to mind a 50’s screen siren. Since that night, there had been no hint of a starlet at all in Jolene’s wardrobe. Quite the opposite, actually.
Well. The 50’s pin-up babe was back, and with a vengeance.
There she sat now in a white blouse, but it was utterly unlike any of the boxy white blouses of late. This one was cr
isply fitted and cut perfectly and the top two button were open, revealing a tantalizing glimpse of white lace and smooth flesh. Her trim navy blue pencil skirt was over the knee but not even remotely modest: it was molded to her incredible body like a second skin and had a tightly-cinched in waist that emphasized her breasts even more, making him wonder if she had a corset on. Peeking out from under the desk were stacked high heels in a deep chestnut brown that made her ankles look delicate and sweetly-curved.
It was a polished and professional outfit, tasteful and expensive – and the whole effect took his breath away. It left exactly nothing to his imagination or memory, and had the impact of a fucking ten-ton Mac truck.
God help me.
Silver stared, stared without a word. Truthfully, he had no idea what to say. And the gorgeous, amazing woman sitting at her desk just stared right on back, clearly surprised at his tumultuous, noisy entrance followed up by frozen silence.
“Erm,” Jolene said at last. “Happy New Year.”
At those low, golden tones, he came back to himself. “Hi.”
“Can I help you?”
“Yeah.” He pulled it together now and thank Christ because he wasn’t going to give her the satisfaction of knowing that he was helplessly, completely fucking turned on. “Drake said that you wanted to talk to me?”
“I do.” She stood up, all grace and beauty and sleek lines, and Silver’s hard-on went into overdrive when he saw her perfect ass in that tight little skirt. “You’re leaving tomorrow afternoon for your Nevada work trip, right?”
“Yeah. I’ll drop by here and set some jobs to the guys, then take off around eight a.m.”
“OK, so I’ve prepared some new expenses sheets for you to use.” She picked some papers up from the desk and came around to meet him, her arm extended. “Here you go.”
Silver wanted to be like a statue and make her come all the way over to him, but some sense of inbred politeness overrode his desire to be a stubborn prick. He took a few steps forward and met her halfway – and that was when he smelled her perfume.
It was warm and sultry, with woodsy or smoky undertones. It was sweet and untamed and fierce, like wild honey or wild roses. It was her, her absolute essence.
It was how she’d tasted on his tongue.
That was when Silver lost it.
He lost his mind, and his cool, and his arrogant nonchalance: his whole protective layer of self-preservation crumbled and shredded into a thousand little pieces. She had to get the fuck away from him once and for all, all the more so when she looked like this – because if she was going to show up in his face day after day in all this breathtaking glory, it was just a matter of time before Silver fell to his damn knees and begged her for forgiveness and another chance.
She had to go. Now.
Being a surly douchebag hadn’t worked so far. Ignoring her, putting up roadblocks to her job, making her life generally more difficult hadn’t worked. Hell, even actively and secretly finding her better job opportunities and creating real-life job offers hadn’t worked.
So, time to kick it up a few notches. Catch her by surprise and come at her a whole new way.
Come on, man. You can be a raging asshole, right? Sure you can.
Jo watched as Silver moved towards her, all power and grace like a jungle cat, and she braced herself for impact: even just handing him a piece of paper and brushing his fingertips was always a potential minefield of sensations and wants. Her body remembered his so clearly, so immediately, that she’d started to wonder if he’d somehow imprinted on her, left some mark on her and in her. Like a burn or a scar, something permanent and forever a part of her.
As he got closer, she saw that he looked tired, maybe even exhausted. His eyes were heavy-lidded and had dark purple smudges underneath them, and Jo wondered if he wasn’t sleeping well. Not that it was any of her goddamn business, but still… she felt a little tug of concern for him.
They were just a foot apart now, and she waited for him to take the expense report documents, wanting to be back behind the physical barrier of her desk and paperwork. Silver was always too much for her senses: too male, too masculine, too muscular. Being this close to him was always a challenge to her self-control because as much of a jerk as he’d shown himself to be time and again, her treacherous, traitorous body still responded to him.
Down, girl.
The thing was that she’d stopped walking, but he hadn’t. He just carried on moving towards her, not slowing or deviating course, and she looked up at his set, hard face, totally taken aback about what he was doing.
Then his arms were around her, his body was pushing hers back step by insistent step. She dropped the papers and raised her hands to grip his large biceps, pushing against him ineffectually, loving the groove of hard muscle under her fingers even as confusion began to bubble up inside her.
“Silver!” she gasped. “What are you –”
Then his mouth was on hers, and her words and breath were cut off as effectively as if he had his hands around her throat. She pushed hard on his chest now, and his response was to growl and shove her back again, then lift her roughly onto her desk. Papers scattered to the floor, her phone joined them with a crash. And still Silver kept his lips on hers, his large hands cupping her face to hold her in place, his mouth hungry and hot, his beard scratching her face in that way that drove her wild.
Jo struggled for all of four seconds – and then she stopped.
Not because she felt that it was useless to fight back, though. Whatever the hell was going on here, whatever had just set him off and whatever his intentions, she knew deep down that if she panicked or started to cry or tried to scream, Silver would stop.
The thing was, she didn’t want him to stop.
Without any conscious thought, her hands moved up and over his broad shoulders, her arms looped around his neck and her legs wrapped around his hips, pulling every inch of him closer. Jo kissed him back now, her mouth alive and eager and greedy under his.
God, I’ve missed this.
Silver felt her response and grinned to himself. This was going to be even easier than he’d hoped. He’d humiliate and hurt her so badly that she’d run screaming and never, ever look back.
He wouldn’t do it yet, though… he’d push her a bit farther.
Ignoring the little voice in his head that was telling him that he was really putting off dealing the death blow of shame because he was enjoying being close to Jolene again, he doubled down on the seduction scene. Keeping one hand firmly in her hair, he moved the other down the middle of her body, tracing the hollow between her perfect breasts. When she shuddered and gasped, he flicked a button open, then another. The blouse slid off her shoulders and pooled around her waist, and he gathered the material in his hand, trapping her arms behind her in the sleeves.
He lowered his silver-blond head now, his tongue tracing the curve of her throat. He moved lower, planting soft little kisses on her silky skin, inching closer to her breasts.
“Silver,” she whispered as he circled her nipple with his thumb, took his sweet time moving to the other one, going back and forth and slowly driving her insane. “Silver, please…”
“Please what, baby?” he muttered, his breath hot on her body, his lips hovering over her pouting little nipples, but not touching, not yet. She arched, silently begging for what she wanted, but he needed the words. He tightened his grip in her shining hair, forced her to arch back farther. In this position, it was like she was offering her body up to him completely, and he liked that just fine. “Say what you want me to do.”
“Please put your mouth on me,” she said breathlessly. “Please kiss me.”
“Kiss you where?”
“Silver –”
“Where, Jolene.” It wasn’t a question this time, it was a command. “Tell me.”
“Oh, God.” She shut her eyes
, and he saw her working up the courage to say what she wanted. “I – I –”
With a stab of desire, he remembered how he’d teased her that night in the cabin, reduced her to a pleading, sobbing mess against the wall, before he’d taken her so hard that she’d stopped breathing for a few seconds.
“Where?” he said again, his voice rough and low with memory of her body clutching around him. “Tell me right now or I stop fucking touching you.”
“Please kiss me on my breasts.” Jolene opened her eyes and he saw the glittering black depths of her desire. She was moving on the desk, shamelessly writhing and twisting and as her tight little skirt rode up, her thighs opened to him in a silent plea. “And on – on my pussy.”
“Is that what you want?”
“Yes. Yes, please.”
“You want to come on my mouth, sweet thing?”
She gave a small cry at his words, and he almost lost his resolve then and there. God, he wanted to slide that smart, expensive skirt higher, higher still, slip his fingers between her legs, find her soaked heat. He ached to lower her panties down and off, then hook his arms under her splayed knees and lift her hips off the desk. He longed to raise her to his lips and feast on her musky, sweet center, just lick and stroke and suck until she screamed his name and shattered under his mouth.
But that would all be a gigantic fucking mistake.
No. No, it wouldn’t.
Yes. Yes, it would, asshole. Now do it.
“Yes,” she said, her voice molten with abandon. “On your mouth, Silver.”
He paused, watched her as she shamelessly started to raise her own skirt, exposing her generous golden thighs. He saw a quick flash of white lace between her legs, smelled her wild honey arousal and knew that he had to bring the hammer down now, because he was seconds away from doing exactly what she’d asked for.
“You’re kidding me, right?” he asked her, disgust dripping from every syllable as he took a huge step back. “You think I’d ever touch you like that again, you cheap whore?”
She went stock-still and stared up at him, unblinking and barely breathing.
The Devil's Silver (The Road Devils MC Book 2) Page 20
