Just when I thought she was thoroughly depleted, she looked down at me with wild eyes, threaded her fingers through my hair, and tugged. “I need you,” she said, taking my bottom lip between her teeth. “More of you.” Her fingers found my zipper and released me. “All of you.” Her hand wrapped around my cock. “Just you.” Slowly, she began moving. “Please, Dare.”
FUCK.
Up. Down. Up. Down.
Pleasure ripped through me, setting my world on fire, scorching my mind until all common sense was burned to a crisp.
Breathe, Dare. Fucking breathe.
I didn’t know how much more I could take. I had to have her. Right fucking now.
Hooking my hand under her leg, I lifted her so that she was straddling me, my rock-hard erection pressing impatiently against her. She moaned, kissing me urgently while grinding against me, her nails digging into my thighs, spurring on my need. I lifted my hips, and she rose to her knees, guiding me into her opening.
Jaw tight, teeth gritted, I filled her.
Inch by tight inch. Groan by hard groan.
All the while, I focused on her and only her. Those beautiful eyes swimming with lust. That soft smile playing across her lips. The erotic curves of her body.
The piece of art that was Ree.
“Oh, god.” Her head fell back and she practically sang my name as her muscles contracted around me, taking me in further, pulling me deeper.
My hands slid over her ass before settling on her hips, directing her to set the pace she needed. I surrendered control, worshipping her as she rode me, savoring this moment.
I wanted to show her what it meant to be loved.
She deserved love.
So much fucking love.
“I don’t ever want this to stop,” she said as if she’d read my mind.
“Then keep moving, baby.”
She pulsed up and down, first slowly, then faster and faster until we were both breathing heavily. Giving her full control of this moment was a test of will.
Her legs quivered, and her eyes rolled back in her head, the air around us thick and heavy with sex and freedom. Every sultry moan spilling from her lips confirmed we were each other’s missing half.
Two parts. One whole.
One hand still on her hip, my other climbed to her chest, claiming her heartbeat as I possessed her from the inside out. The move—combined with my length breaching a nerve-filled territory—pushed her over the edge with the sweetest sound I’d ever heard, and I exploded with her, pleasure engulfing us as she broke apart, crumbling against me, trusting me to cushion her fall. Just like she had that very first night we’d spent together.
I pushed her hair out of her face as she continued to tremble on my chest. “You know what else I see when I look at you?”
“A thoroughly satisfied girlfriend?” We were speaking in pants, our breaths one and the same.
Girlfriend. We’d never used that word before. Ree was beyond girlfriend for me.
That realization was like a blast of endorphins to the heart.
“I see a phoenix,” I said. “A woman who rose from the ashes and is going to conquer the entire fucking world one day.”
thirteen
Two weeks later, I was on day twenty-seven without Ree and my own detox was failing miserably. There was no way in hell I could get her out of my system.
Nor did I want to.
Not anymore.
Though we spoke on the phone nightly and I drove out to visit every Sunday, we hadn’t been able to sneak in a repeat performance in her room. I missed the feel of her, the smell of her, the thrill of her mere presence.
And I missed drawing her.
Once I’d put pencil to paper again after so many weeks without it, I was going crazy to get back to my art. I hadn’t said anything to her yet, but was hoping that maybe once she was out and I was done with my commitment at the tattoo shop, we could head back to Paris together, pick up where we’d left off.
Still, I couldn’t complain. The time she spent at the facility was paying off. Slowly, but surely she was becoming my true Ree—the girl I’d seen glimpses of and fallen hard for. She’d always been there, but had too often been eclipsed by all-consuming pain. Now the sadness in her eyes was ebbing, giving way to strength and determination.
And happiness.
This last week, instead of being submerged in the darkness of the past and talking about the mindfuck that was her family, she’d focused on looking toward a brighter future. Her dream of discovering talent and covering the walls of her own gallery with art was no longer just a fantasy. She now saw it as a reality, a real possibility. And I was going to do whatever it took to help her realize it.
Running with Leo had become a morning ritual of sorts. It relieved some of my tension. Not to mention, it got me away from the constant orgy inside the house. It was as if every member of No Man’s Land—save for Leo who had a girl back in L.A.—was trying to fuck someone out of their mind. Two or three times night.
It didn’t help that rock stars apparently gave zero flying fucks about noise levels. “The louder, the better” was the motto around here. Listening to what I could only assume they’d call “research” for their Nailed to the Wall album was driving me nuts.
Not because I cared that they were screwing their way through all of Amsterdam. And not even because Synner kept sending half-naked chicks to my bed in search of something I had no intention of giving them. It was the knowledge that the only girl in the entire city I wanted was out of reach.
Today’s three mile run had to hold me over just until tomorrow.
Tomorrow, when Ree returned to me.
Finally.
“Mind if I hit the shower first?” Leo asked as soon as we returned. “Indie is going to have my balls if I’m late to the studio again. She will literally chop them off, string them into a necklace, and wear them around her neck where Syn’s currently hang.”
“Thanks for the unnecessary visual,” I said with a groan. “Yeah, go ahead. Defend your boys.”
“Thanks, man. You’re a nut-saver.” He clapped me on the back as I headed over to the fridge in search of a bottle of water.
I made it halfway across the living room before a muffled shout from Dash’s bedroom stopped me in my tracks.
“What the hell is wrong with you?!” The woman’s voice was high-pitched and laced with a strong Irish accent. “Good lord. FINE! I’m getting out, you arse!”
His door burst open and a tall, curvy chick in her mid-twenties tornadoed through the living room. Long, auburn hair whirled about her as she grabbed her leather jacket and shoes, then slammed the front door.
Dash stumbled out of his room in just his black jeans—all six-feet three-inches of him looming in the doorway—looking like he’d just seen a ghost. “Fucking fuck!” He smashed the doorframe with his fist and stalked over to the kitchen.
Following closely behind, I said, “What the hell did you do to her?”
“Fuck, fuck, fuck...” He shook his head, and went straight for the coffee, the string of curses growing longer with each passing second.
“Dash…what did you do?”
He let out something that sounded like a half-groan, half-moan. “I crossed a boundary I shouldn’t have.”
“Her ass?” I raised my eyebrows and leaned against the fridge door.
“No,” he said, gripping the kitchen counter, his eyes fixed on the coffee pot. “Her hair.”
I reached over and poured him a cup because he clearly needed one and wasn’t moving to do it himself. He just kept cursing and shaking his head as his knuckles turned whiter and whiter.
“Her hair? What the hell did you do to her hair that had her running scared?”
“Her hair was fucking red.” The words came out through clenched teeth.
“Jesus.” I ran a hand over my face. “You’re making absolutely no sense.”
Dash shook his head. “I thought her fucking hair was brown,” he said. “L
ast night at the club it looked dark brown. But this morning I woke up next to a redhead!” He lifted his head up. “FUUUUCK!”
“Okay,” I said, frowning. “Sounds like an honest mistake.” I’d had some unfortunate beer-goggle incidents when I’d been trying to fuck Ree out of my head. I was glad I’d been drunk enough to forget most as soon as they were over. “Not sure what you’re getting so upset about. Shit happens, Dash.”
“I don’t make mistakes.” His jaw tightened. “And I don’t DO redheads!”
“Funny, I could’ve sworn you did anything and everything with a pulse.” I laughed, relaxing a little. Though, the more I thought about it, I realized that in the two months I’d been with the band not a single redhead had come out of my brother’s room. Dash shot me a look that could’ve cut through glass, so I raised my hands and backed off. “Okay, okay. No red-haired chicks. Got it.” More seriously, I added, “So you didn’t actually hurt her, right?”
“Of course not. I just told her to get the fuck out.”
“Because of her hair.” I started laughing again.
He nodded. “Yeah.”
“Alright then,” I said with a shrug. “I personally find your war on gingers baffling and hairist as shit, but at least we aren’t going to have any trouble on our hands. Save for your poor girl’s bruised ego.”
“She’s not MY girl.” He growled the words as his fingers impulsively drifted to the little wren on his chest.
Interesting. “You know, if you have such a stick up your ass about redheads, maybe you shouldn’t have let me add so much auburn to your wren tattoo. All those dark red feathers—”
“Shut it, Dare.” His grip tightened around his coffee cup. “You may be blood, but do not go there.”
VERY interesting.
Before either of us could say anything more, my phone buzzed, the caller ID lighting up with Rex’s number.
Today was turning out to be full of surprises. “If you’re calling to ask about Jasmine for the third time this week, she’s safe and sound,” I said as I picked up. “And still very married.”
“Dare…” Rex’s voice caused a chill to run down my spine.
There were only three reasons he would sound like that. Two of those were currently partying in Vienna. The other—my mom—I hadn’t talked to for a week. Shit.
“What is it? What happened?”
“Your mom’s counselor called.” I could hear him sigh. “She’s been skipping her meetings.”
I ran a hand through my hair, at a loss for words. “Why?” was all I could manage. “Why now?” She had been doing SO well lately. She’d earned her one year sobriety chip just last month.
“Something has her spooked,” he said.
Spooked? Shit. That could only mean—
Dash leaned in and mouthed, What’s wrong?
I shook my head, worry taking hold, and turned on the speaker so Dash could hear.
“Rex?” I said. “What happened?”
“She got a call from Rykers.”
All the air rushed out of my lungs. Dash white-knuckled the edge of the counter.
“When?” we both asked in unison. As if that REALLY mattered.
He had found her number. He had found her.
FUCK.
Rex didn’t speak for what felt like an eternity. Finally, he said, “Two weeks ago. He said he was coming for her, that he was being released soon. She pleaded with me not to tell you, but I can’t keep it from you now that she’s missing meetings.” Another few heartbeats of silence followed. “I’m sorry, Dare. This is my fault. I should be taking better care of her while you kids are away.”
I shook my head. “Rex, it’s enough that you flew to L.A. to be with her this summer so Dalia and Dax could travel and I could be here. The last thing you should be doing is blaming yourself. She’s not your responsibility. She’s mine.”
And so was my father and his threat.
Dash bent down to the speaker and asked the one question I wasn’t brave enough to ask. “Is Celia using again?”
“From what I can tell she’s clean,” Rex said, and I breathed a small sigh of relief. “I’m keeping a close eye on her and I’ll drag her to those goddamn meetings if I have to. She’s safe, Dare. I swear. I just thought you should know why she hasn’t been herself lately. She’s so afraid to tell you about Daren’s call.”
That name. That fucking name still haunted me to this day.
“Maybe I should come back,” I said.
“No!” There was a sharp edge in Rex’s voice. “You need to live YOUR life. For once. Your mom will be fine.”
“Rex—”
“No, Dare. Listen to me. You stay where you are. If you show up here all of a sudden, that’s just going to spook her more.”
I nodded, torn. For the moment, he was probably right. If she was already scared, it could send her over the edge, and I really didn’t want to be the cause of her falling off the wagon again.
“Okay,” I said. “I’ll stay. But you call me the minute you hear anything at all. Promise me that, Rex.”
“Of course. If anything changes, I’ll call.”
As soon as Rex hung up, Dash began pacing the room.
“I’ll call my mom and see if he’s been in touch,” he said, running his fingers through his hair. “We don’t know if it’s really him yet.”
My head pounded. “Sure we do, Dash. My mom doesn’t have that many admirers from Rykers.”
“At least we know he’s still incarcerated, right?” I was pretty sure Dash had meant that to sound reassuring. Except his words had the opposite effect.
“Yeah,” I said with a shrug. “For now.”
Ree had warned me that her father had the power to reduce my dad’s sentence. She had also told me what she’d said to the reporters back in the Galerie Yves Robert. The message she’d had for her parents. If the mayor saw me as the reason she was dissing Harvard and the McKinley name…shit.
“Maybe it’s nothing,” Dash said.
Where the hell did his optimism come from? Did it have something to do with the fact that Dash had never crossed our father the way that I had? That fucker had never had it as bad for anyone as he’d had it for me. His name on my birth certificate was like a target on my back.
“Maybe I need to go back home,” I said, placing my head in my hands.
“When I got out of rehab,” Dash said, quietly, “I had someone who helped me through it all, and I never would have made it to sobriety without her. But if she hadn’t been there for me at that time…”
His voice trailed off and I lifted my head to look at him. He had this far-off look in his eyes—a painful mixture of sweetness and sorrow on his face.
I immediately knew what I needed to do, what I wanted to do.
For the moment, I needed to put this out of my mind and focus on Ree. Right now, there was nothing in the world I wanted more than to help her win this fight. I had to do everything in my power to ensure her happiness. That also meant not telling her about my parents. If she got even one whiff of the potential threat—especially if it was brought on by her father—it could send her running for the pills again.
I would just have to take things one day at a time and trust that everything would work out. For once.
Having lived in the middle of a shitstorm for so long, I’d taken the relative quiet of the last few years to be a deserved respite. Having Ree in my life had to be my reward for all the hurt I’d survived growing up.
I just had to hope this wasn’t the calm before the real storm.
fourteen
“Ready?” Dare squeezed my hand and smiled as we stood on the doorstep of Dash’s place.
Yeah, the former scene of my worst walk of shame ever. Talk about your first test straight out of rehab. My heart was pounding, my palms sweating, and I felt like I couldn’t get any oxygen into my lungs.
I started shaking my head. “I don’t know about this, Dare.”
The people inside were fo
reign to me. Not to mention, the last time they’d seen me had not been my most shining moment, to say the least. I had a vague recollection of insulting some girl with blue hair before realizing Dare was there, and then hanging my head as Dash had walked me out. Sure, the eldest Wilde had been incredibly kind, but he had to think the worst of me. Anyone would.
God, I wished I had some pills to settle my nerves.
Shit.
I couldn’t think like that. I had to be able to do it on my own, to live life without help. I’d already faced much worse in my past. I had to be able to handle this with my head held high.
“Ree.” Dare’s lips were pressed against my ear, his warm breath shivering me. “They’re not going to judge you. Some of them have been where you are—Dash has, for one.” I pulled back from him so I could see his eyes. Dash had been in rehab? Somehow, I could breathe a little easier knowing that. “They don’t know you. You have a clean slate with them. I promise you have nothing to worry about.”
I nodded, took a breath, and then tried to smile.
“Think about them like they’re your new therapy group,” he said. “Out of one rehab program and into—”
“No man’s land?” I said, a genuine smile blooming. “That doesn’t sound dangerous at all.”
Dare laughed, shaking his head. “No, it doesn’t.” Then he reached over and brushed his thumb across my cheek. “I’m here. Okay?”
Leaning into his hand, I sighed. “Yeah,” I said, kissing his palm. “I can do this.”
“I know.”
No one had ever believed in me before, and his words filled me with strength.
His strength. My strength. Our strength.
“So…are you ready?” he asked, gently nudging my shoulder.
Not really, but I was never fully going to be. Might as well make this first step.
I nodded. “Ready as I’ll ever be. Let’s go.”
He opened the door, and I followed him inside.
“—don’t understand why we can’t at least have beer here,” a male voice was saying. “And why aren’t there any women?”
There was a loud smack and the guy said “OW! Jesus, Indie, that fucking hurt!”
Escaped Artist (Untamed #3) Page 8
