Rebel’s blackened stare is piercing, but as upset as he might be with me, I don’t miss the way his gaze slides down to take me in. I’m as naked as the day I was born. I’m also filthy and sticky from my run. Pushing past him, I head for the bathroom and a much needed shower.
“What did my brother want?” Rebel asks over the hiss of the running water.
Soaping up a washcloth, I tell him, “He didn’t want anything. He was running, just like me.”
“Not what I meant and you know it. Did he say anything?”
“He said plenty of things.” I know I’m pushing his buttons, and maybe it makes me a bad person, but I get a sick thrill from doing it. There’s no telling how he’ll react. Will Rebel hold back, or will he tackle me to the floor and punish me? Now that I know for certain that he hasn’t been sleeping around with Red, my nipples tighten at the thought of him unleashing his brand of exquisite torture.
A tall, dark shadow falls over the curtain. Standing under the fall of water, I raise my arms and arch my back, pushing my chest out as I rinse the shampoo from my hair. My eyes are closed, but the chilly draft that drifts over my wet skin lets me know that Rebel is watching.
“You’re playing with fire, pussycat,” Rebel’s gruff voice warns.
“Maybe I like to be burned,” I toss back. Shutting the water off, I wring my hair out and accept the towel Rebel holds out. He watches me as I step out of the shower and begin drying off. Since he’s being so patient, I suppose I should be a little more flexible with the answers. “He told me he’s not responsible for sending those pictures.”
One of Rebel’s midnight brows arches up. Leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed over his chest, he looks skeptical. “And you believed him?”
As if I’m stupid to do so? “Yes, I did. In fact, he showed me the same ones on his phone. He’s been seeing Florence. They’re sleeping together and those pictures belong to them.”
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” Dropping his arms, Rebel curses under his breath. “For how long?”
Slipping into a pair of jeans, I shrug. “I didn’t ask.”
Rebel’s silence is the first indication that he is turning around some serious thoughts. Usually, he just shouts when he’s upset about something. “We’re not done with this conversation, but I need to make some calls,” he finally says. Turning to leave, he throws over his shoulder, “Pack an overnight bag. You’re staying with me tonight.”
I snort a laugh and shake my head as I take my time running a brush through my hair. “Yeah, sorry, but that’s not going to happen.”
In the mirror, I see Rebel’s reflection reappear. “Pack a bag or spend the evening naked. You know which one I prefer.”
Oh, do I. Stifling a smile, I lift my chin in defiance. “You didn’t even ask nice.”
Stepping back into the room, Rebel approaches me from behind and leans down over me. His hands flatten on the counter on either side of me and he stares directly into my eyes via our reflections. "Please.”
I can’t help but to start laughing. It’s such a typical Rebel response. Not the word, but the way he said it. It wasn’t a request. “Why am I staying the night again?”
“Because after I’m done with my calls, I’m going to be in a terrible mood, and I’m going to need someone or something to take it out on,” he drawls. With a devious smile, he lowers his mouth to my bare shoulder and wraps his lips around it. I feel the soft, wet heat of his tongue on my flesh followed by the blunt edges of his teeth. “Pack a bag,” he reminds me, then shoves away from the counter, leaving me to finish getting ready.
***
Rebel has been in his office for hours. Literally hours. I’ve been doing anything and everything I can think of to occupy myself while I wait for him to make good on his promise, but I’m fast running out of options. I’ve watched television, played around on my phone, loaded and unloaded his dishwasher, and even did a little light dusting even though the place was spotless to begin with.
Now it’s late, and I’m starving. Since he’s clearly forgotten my existence, I’ve decided to help myself to his kitchen and make something to eat. It’s surprisingly well stocked for a bachelor. After sifting through the many options, I pull out a couple of T-bone steaks and everything I need to make baked potatoes and a salad. Earlier, while standing out on the balcony overlooking the city, I saw that he owns a grill, which will be perfect. I haven’t had a good steak in ages, and I’m sure Rebel hasn’t had a woman, besides his mother, cook for him in a long time either. Now is the time to put my cooking skills to the test.
I just hope I don’t burn his place down.
On second thought, since Florence owns the building, I hope it goes up in flames. I’m sure Rebel has insurance.
After wrapping the potatoes in foil, I pile everything I’ll need to get them and the steaks going, and then I head out onto the balcony. Lifting the lid on the grill, I take a look around for the bag of charcoal and lighter fluid, but I don’t see any. Then I glance down and see the giant propane tank underneath.
“Shit.” Well, what the hell am I going to do now? I’ve never used a propane grill before. I like things simple and straight forward and this...this is space age. This must be what old people feel like when someone hands them a cell phone.
Chewing my bottom lip, I look around for an instruction manual or something that might help me figure this thing out, but there’s nothing. I guess I could always ask Rebel what to do, but then dinner wouldn’t be a surprise. I could just cook the steaks under the broiler...but then they wouldn’t have the flavor I was going for.
Determined to figure it out on my own, I stand there for several minutes glaring at the grill. Then I notice a little button on the side that seems out of place with the other nobs. Standing back, I reach out and touch my finger to it. Well, if the thing explodes, then at least I’ll die knowing that I screwed Florence over one last time.
I press the button and...flames! We have flames! I’m so excited I do a little jig of joy to celebrate, and then I grab the food and layer it on the grate, getting down to business.
The food doesn’t take long to cook. When there are only a few minutes left on the clock, I head down the hall to Rebel’s office. The door is open a crack, and when I stop to listen, I only hear silence.
Rapping my knuckles lightly on the door, I call softly, “Rebel?”
There’s a slight shuffling before he replies. “It’s open.”
My nerves rattle as I push the door open. There’s a heaviness to the air, which I guess is to be expected. He’s been busy ruling the world today.
Rebel isn’t behind his desk as I expected. Instead, he’s seated across the room in a red leather smoking chair. He’s still dressed in part of his work attire with the top few buttons on his shirt undone and his tie hanging loose like tails over his chest. His long frame spans the entire chair, his head resting on the low back with his face tilted toward the ceiling, his long legs and bare feet extended out in front of him. In his hand is a glass of amber liquid—his drink of choice. Even from across the room, I can feel his stress.
“I’m sorry if I’m intruding...”
The hand holding the scotch jerks a little, which I assume is a signal for it’s fine, or don’t worry about it. I’m not sure. I’ve never seen him like this before.
“I made dinner,” I offer. “If you’re hungry.” His eyes open and he lifts his head, but he doesn’t look at me, which makes me feel like I am indeed intruding on a private moment. Maybe he just wants to be left alone. “I’ll keep your plate warm.”
Backing out of the room, I grab the handle, prepared to close the door behind me, but Rebel’s gruff voice stops me. “No, leave it open. I’ll be out in a minute.”
“Okay.” I head back down the hall, passing through the living room and into the kitchen, retrieving our plates and carrying them back to the living room where I’ve decided to make a little picnic style setup around the glass top elephant c
offee table. I select a bottle of red wine next from the fancy schmancy wine refrigerator and set it along with two glasses beside our plates. Then I sit down on the fluffy shag carpet and wait.
Rebel comes out shortly thereafter, his strides heavy. I can tell that whatever he dealt with earlier is still with him. When he sees me sitting on the floor, he gives me a strange look coupled with a soft smile.
“What are you doing down there?”
Tilting my head, I indicate the plates waiting on the table in front of me. “I thought we could eat picnic style tonight.”
He studies the plates as he comes to sit down beside me. “You made all this?” he asks with a touch of wonderment in his voice.
“I hope you don’t mind that I raided your fridge.”
Rebel’s dark gaze lifts, shimmering with some unnamed emotion beneath the slashes of his dark brows, and for a moment, he just stares at me. “I’m sorry. I left you hanging, didn’t I?”
“It’s fine. You had work to do.”
In a gesture that is rare for Rebel, he reaches up and cups my cheek. The intimate way he’s looking at me, I get the feeling that he has something heavy he wants to say to me. Instead, he leans in, placing a gentle kiss on my lips. “Thank you for dinner.”
An odd combination of disappointment and warmth wend their way through me, settling in my stomach like a stone. I don’t know what I had hoped for him to say, but it wasn’t that. Picking up my fork and knife, I give him a sharp nod.
“So what kind of business did you have to take care of?” I ask conversationally.
“The personal kind.”
He says this with a slight tip of his lips as if he’s teasing me, but I know it’s just his way of nicely telling me to butt out. “Okay, Mr. Mysterious, have it your way. I’m sure we can find something completely boring and mundane to talk about. Let’s see...” I tap my chin with my finger, thinking. “Oh, did I tell you that I spoke to Annie the other day, and she said that Brody is really enjoying himself down there in Virginia. I promised her that I’d come down soon for another visit.”
His fathomless eyes slant up, annoyance in their dark depths. “You promised her, or him?”
“Both,” I chirp, smiling as I see the darkness in his eyes deepen. He looks away, his jaw set as he saws mercilessly into his steak. Placing my hand on his hard, muscled thigh, I tease, “Aw, don’t be jealous. He’s just a friend.”
“I’m not jealous, Josephine. And he’s not just a friend. We’ve been over this before. Men and women can’t be just friends.”
“I don’t agree. Brody and I are friends.”
Hands resting on either side of his plate, Rebel’s fingers tighten around the utensils, turning the tips white. “If that were true, then he wouldn’t want more.”
“It doesn’t matter if he wants more or not,” I challenge. “What matters is that I don’t reciprocate, and he respects that.”
With a derisive snort, Rebel shakes his head. “You’re living in a fantasy land. The only reason he ‘respects’ it is because he doesn’t have a choice. Don’t think that he isn’t undressing you in his head every time he looks at you though.”
Bumping my shoulder into his, I ask, “Is that what you do to me?”
“Every chance I get. As far as I’m concerned, you’re bare ass naked right now.” His gaze shifts to mine, glittering with humor and heat.
Flushing, I suck my bottom lip between my teeth and bite down. When Rebel looks at me like that, I feel beautiful—his gaze lighting up every cell in my body.
“Come here.” Sitting back, Rebel lifts his arm and drapes it over my shoulders, pulling me into his side while his other hand comes up to grasp my chin. He lifts my face to his and looks into my eyes. “Men are sick fucks. At the base of it all, they’re just looking for someplace to get their dick wet, and you’re too fucking beautiful for me to trust any man but me around you.”
“What about your brother?” If by some chance we end up together for the long haul, then how will we make that particular situation work? From where I’m sitting, it seems nearly impossible.
“He’s not someone I care to discuss tonight.”
“But with our history...How will it ever work for us?”
His thumb strokes across my cheek in a tender caress. “It will work because we’ll make it work.”
“But how?”
“He’s already moved on. He won’t bother us again.”
I feel the frown on my face deepen. “He’s moved on with your boss, a former flame. You said before that this is what he does. He tries to take your girlfriends. Aren’t you worried that he’ll come back again for me when he’s through with Florence?”
Rebel’s brows pinch together. “Are you worried what will happen if he comes back for you?”
Looking into his eyes, I feel a small lump form in my throat. I am worried. Not because I don’t think I can resist his advances. I can. “No,” I say firmly. “It’s not that at all. I worry about your parents and what they’ll think about me suddenly dating their other son. As far as they know, I was with Ransom. I’m going to look like a bed-hopping tramp. Then, say years and years and years down the road, we decide to get married? Have kids? What then?”
Chuckling, Rebel bends down and touches his lush lips to mine. “I’ve already spoken to my parents about us. They know about the confusion, and they know how it happened. Ransom and I have been engaged in this...battle, if you will, since we were kids. What’s happened isn’t a shock. They understand and, if anything, they’re worried about you.”
“Worried about me?”
“They like you, Josephine,” he says softly. “I know you think they don’t because of your job, but it’s like I told you before, they don’t judge. Or at least, they do their best not to.”
Thinking back on that family dinner and the way my dancing came to light still makes me cringe. That was quite possibly the most humiliating moment of my life. Hopefully, someday, I’ll be able to look back on that day and laugh, but I won’t hold my breath.
“Do you tell your parents everything?”
“No, not everything,” Rebel laughs at the worry that must be apparent on my face. “But there are very few secrets in our family. We’re very honest with each other.” He gives me a meaningful look and I’m reminded of all the times that Rebel demanded that I not lie to him and I realize that this must be a sticking point.
Finally, I feel like I’m beginning to understand him a little better. “I feel like I need to apologize. I should have respected your wishes and, even though I stand by my statement that I can speak to whomever I wish, I shouldn’t have hung out with Ransom when I saw him at the park.”
“I won’t lie,” he replies gruffly. “I’m still a little pissed that you did that. I want you to trust me enough to trust my judgment, but I don’t want you to think that my goal here is to rule your life. I have enough shit to deal with in my own to have any interest in micromanaging yours. That being said, I’ve told you before, I like that you push back.” Smoothing the pad of his thumb over my bottom lip, he says affectionately, “I might want to spank you sometimes, but that’s part of the reason I enjoy being with you so much. You’re a constant challenge.”
His words warm me to my core. Rebel’s usually so tight-lipped about everything that I can never really be sure where he stands. But right now I feel connected to him. It’s a connection that runs even deeper than the last time I felt it happen. It’s as if each time we share a part of ourselves with one another, the invisible cord connecting us gets shorter.
Wrapping my arm around his waist, I rest my head on his chest, snuggling in as close as I can. This man...he’s something special. I can feel it in my heart and in my soul. I guess that gives me the answer to Annie’s question. Can I trust this man? Yes, I think I can.
Fifteen
Rebel and I are washing dishes. Well, I’m washing dishes. Rebel is standing behind me grinding his hips into my ass and whispering dirty things in my ea
r. No matter what I do or how hard I try, I can’t resist this man, so I’m throwing in the towel. Where I used to find his chiseled good looks and severe, unforgiving attitude intimidating, now I find them to be his most devastating qualities.
“What do you think of the balcony? The warm breeze sweeping over your skin while I feast between your creamy thighs?”
Instant heat rushes through me at the visual running through my head, and I close my eyes to savor the fantasy that could quickly become a reality. “Isn’t that a little...public?”
“I’m a little exhibitionist,” he quips. “I like the idea of someone seeing me fuck you and knowing they can never have you.”
“You’re so twisted,” I laugh.
“Mmm, you have no idea,” he purrs into my hair. Touching his lips to the base of my neck, Rebel skims a wet kiss down and across my shoulder.
I shiver, goosebumps breaking out down my arms and across my chest. “I’m never going to get these dishes clean if you don’t stop.”
“Leave them. While I’m sure you adore doing chores, I assure you that what I have in mind is so much more rewarding.”
Drying my hands on a towel, I turn in his arms, smiling as I drape them over his shoulders. I’m just about to tell him what I have in mind for him when I hear keys rattling in the next room. “I thought you said Ransom moved out.”
“He did. Stay here.” Dark brows lowered, Rebel withdraws from my embrace and follows the sound into the living room.
My instincts scream at me to do the exact opposite of what he tells me and follow him, but I stay put, deciding to put a little faith in him and trust his judgment. Won’t he be proud of me, I laugh to myself. Remaining perfectly still, I focus all of my attention on listening to what’s going on beyond my field of vision.
“What are you doing here? I told you, barring an emergency, like the building burning down around us, you aren’t to use that key.”
“Oh, lord, Rebel. When did you become so damn uptight? Oh, wait. It was around the time you decided to hook up with that piece of trash from the club.”
Fall for Him Page 11
