by Decadent
“Stay there!” She retreated. “He treated me like a worthless whore, and you were going to let him.”
“I—”
“You offered yourself like one,” Deke broke in. “What did you expect?”
“Go to hell!” She turned her back on them and thrust her bra and thong in her pocket.
“I’m there, kitten. I’m so hard, I’m losing blood in the rest of my body. You sure you don’t want to stay and help me out?”
The nerve of the unbelievable asshole! “You’ve got a palm and five fingers. Figure it out.”
She marched to the front door. The sound of the door slamming reverberated into the peaceful East Texas afternoon until she laid rubber on the road and sped away.
“DID you find her?” Luc asked, his annoyance coming through loud and clear. Damn the perfect digital cell phone signal. In the old analog days, he could have pretended he hadn’t heard.
“Yeah.”
Deke had found Kimber, all right. And just like she had at seventeen, she’d tied his gut up in knots so crazy an Eagle Scout with Houdini ancestry couldn’t get them undone.
“You’re going to apologize for scaring her off and make sure she doesn’t get into trouble,” Luc reminded.
Deke didn’t want to. But as Luc had rationally pointed out, scaring the crap out of Kimber was only a temporary solution to a problem that wasn’t going to just go away because he wanted it to. Kimber was too tenacious to simply give up. She’d track someone else down to help her in her quest to catch Jesse McCall—someone who, at best, would cause her discomfort because they didn’t know what the hell they were doing. At worst, they would take total advantage of her and hurt her.
The Colonel would kill Deke if anything happened to her because he’d had his dick in a knot. Her old man was scary, too. Tough SOB. Mean when he needed to be. Not that he’d condone Deke and Luc introducing his baby to the joys of anal sex . . . but somehow he figured the Colonel would pick that over Kimber picking up a very minor acquaintance in a bar and doing—he couldn’t think about what she might do with two other guys. He gripped the thin wooden table in front of him and didn’t let go until he heard it crack.
But it wasn’t his old boss who motivated him now. It was Kimber herself. He’d had vivid fantasies about her once upon a time, great for jacking off to. But reality was far stronger, like comparing a gust to a category-five hurricane. She’d tasted like sugary innocence. Sweet in his mouth. So damn perfect. Bright in his arms, like a summer day. She was white heat and soft skin and . . .
God, listen to him. Fucking pathetic, going on about the girl like he was Keats or something. Hell.
One fact he couldn’t escape, however: Kimber was the sole temptation that, as much as he hated to admit it, might be stronger than his self-control. He should be pushing her away as fast as he could, before he swallowed her whole, like a snake does its prey. Before he destroyed her. But she wasn’t going to give up her quest, and he wasn’t going to let anyone else tutor her.
Blowing out a breath with a short, ugly curse, Deke lifted the long-neck to his mouth and swallowed. And he stared.
Kimber was currently on the dance floor at Adam Catrell’s bar, The Hang Out, swaying her sweet hips to a Shakira song about that very part of her anatomy. With thighs bared by a skirt so short it neared indecency, a strip of pale belly bared, she danced—sandwiched between Adam and his brother, Burke. The club was smoky and crowded and just getting loud. And despite all that, Deke couldn’t mistake the lust on either brother’s face.
“Are you listening to me?” Luc ranted.
He gripped the phone tighter. “You made yourself real clear last night, cuz. I’m going to play Sir Galahad and ride in to save the day.”
“Don’t forget the apologizing part.”
“Back off.”
Luc sighed. “Tell her we’ll help. Nicely. No mention of using her ass so harshly that she won’t sit for a week.”
Deke winced. He’d treated her badly, hoping to dissuade her from this foolish, reckless idea. Luc knew that, but admitting it out loud would only give him more ammunition. He already had right on his side . . .
“You’re pushing it.”
“You’re the one pushing. You’re shoving Kimber away when she’s done nothing but ask for a favor. And it’s a favor we’re both dying to grant.”
“Hell, yes, I pushed her away. She’s a virgin.”
“She isn’t Heather.”
That was just dirty pool. Deke gripped the phone, pissed at how low this conversation had become in the space of a heartbeat. “She has nothing to do with this. Kimber just isn’t my type.”
Luc laughed in his ear. “Really? Who is your type?”
Deke paused. Hell, he could barely remember another woman’s name for thinking about getting inside Kimber. “Alyssa Devereaux.”
“That blond strip club owner with the Tupperware breasts?”
“She’s not a whore,” Deke protested, knowing from previous discussion that’s exactly what Luc thought.
“Maybe, but you don’t really want Alyssa. She doesn’t want you.”
“She wants you.” A fact that had pissed Deke off when he’d last seen Alyssa a few months ago.
“And I’m not interested. Besides, you’re only telling yourself that you want her because you think she’s ‘safe.’ ”
“I want her because she’s hot and I hear she gives a killer blow job.”
Luc snorted. “You want Alyssa so bad that you jacked off last night and moaned Kimber’s name. I heard you through the wall.”
Deke felt a flush crawl up his face. “Invest in some fucking earplugs. Yeah, Kimber got me hot. So what? She’s a virgin. Man, I’m telling you, they’re bad news.”
“I’ve been with a virgin. It was a beautiful experience. They’re not bad news; Heather was.”
“Leave her out of this.”
“No! You pushed Kimber out the door with a slew of ugly words yesterday because of Heather. Deke, you weren’t responsible—”
“We all know I was. I live with that fact every fucking day. Drop it,” he growled. “Now.”
“I think you’re wrong.” Luc sighed. “But I’ll drop it if you’ll go talk to Kimber. Apologize. Tell her we’ll help.”
He took another long swallow of his beer and stared as Burke Catrell grabbed Kimber’s hips and gyrated his cock against her ass. The bastard apparently wanted to wear his nose somewhere in the middle of his forehead. Deke would be happy to make it happen if Catrell didn’t get his fucking hands off her. His blood was beginning to boil, and the fury rising in him was about up to his eyeballs, ready to overtake his brain.
“She looks otherwise occupied,” Deke snarled into the phone.
“But she came to you first.”
Yeah, she had. Damn Luc and his logic. And Kimber was putting on this show for his benefit, he’d guess, given the way she kept sneaking glances in his direction.
“Get over whatever snit you’re in,” Luc said, “and do the right thing.”
“If I bring her home, I’m going to end up fucking her. We both are.” He sighed heavily. “You know it.”
Deke wanted inside her. Bad. Damn bad. Not just her ass, though he’d enjoy it. Not just her mouth, though he was sure a blow job from Kimber and her lush pink mouth would be mind-blowing. He wanted her—all of her—and suspected that bypassing her pussy just wasn’t going to be an option.
“We’ll respect whatever her wishes are. If she changes her mind, great. If not, we’ll live with it. And you’re making excuses.”
In a way, he supposed that was true. They were truths, in his book. He didn’t have any business teaching Kimber anything about sex. He would want in her pussy if she came back to their house. She drove him out of his ever-lovin’ mind with desire, and his self-control would be shattered. And she scared the hell out of him. What if the past repeated itself? She wasn’t Heather . . . but close enough.
Given all that, he still couldn’t st
ay away.
Refusing to dwell on that reality, Deke lifted his bottle and emptied it. Then slammed it down on the table.
“All right, I’m on it.”
“Bring her home.”
Home. As if she belonged to them. As if they could just claim her like some stray kitten. Luc wanted to. His cousin was hearing wedding bells and babies crying, which made a nice little soundtrack for his picket fence fantasy where he and Luc and the girl of their dreams lived happily ever after. Deke snorted.
Still, he pushed his chair back, stood, staring as Kimber did an X-rated rumba with the Catrell brothers. With a glower, and hoping for a fight, he crossed the room.
Chapter Three
ON the dance floor, the elder Catrell brother reached for her again. Kimber gyrated, turned, hips swinging, as she edged away from him. She’d forgotten his name. Oh, he was handsome. Damn good-looking, in fact. Blue eyes, sandy hair, ripped body. Once upon a time, she might have been attracted to him, but now learning how to please Jesse so they could live happily ever after was her mission. Determining if ménage was something she could handle was key.
But another man, one with military hair, hungry eyes, and a furious stride, had seized her attention in some darkly fascinating way, much like he had five years ago.
Uh-oh. Deke was definitely headed her way. What the hell did he want? At his house yesterday, he’d gone out of his way to humiliate her. Was he here for round two?
Suddenly, Adam Catrell wrapped his arm around her and dragged her close, lowering his head toward her. Kimber’s first instinct was to panic. Did he intend to kiss her in the middle of the dance floor? She didn’t know him. As she discovered about thirty seconds into this dance, she didn’t want him. Especially not with everyone—with Deke— staring.
“You got something going on with Deke?” he shouted in her ear over the music.
“N-no.”
Not that she could manage to forget her afternoon in his kitchen, when he and Luc had kissed her and . . . Better to forget it. Or try to. Lord knew, she hadn’t had much luck with that so far.
In a way, it was her own fault. In retrospect, she realized that military men weren’t built for eloquence, but brute force. He’d tried to say no to her request. When she’d pushed, Deke had stopped talking and simply acted, intentionally scaring her off with his crude words.
Damn if it hadn’t worked.
Then she’d compounded her mistake by coming here and assuming that if being with Deke and Luc had aroused her while being “educa-tional,” then being with Adam and . . . Brad-Brian-Brock-whatever his name was—would be equally enjoyable.
Nope. Almost since this dance started she’d wanted out. But running away like a coward with Deke looking on just wasn’t an option. With her thoughts whirling like a salsa dancer on speed, Kimber tried to decide her next move.
Then Deke had risen from his chair and marched her way, looking more than ready to take the decision out of her hands.
She risked another glance in his direction. God, he was close now. Close enough that she could see a muscle ticcing in his jaw as his sharp gaze zeroed in on Adam’s hand, now riding low on her back, almost on one cheek.
“You’re not involved with Deke? I’m guessing he doesn’t see it that way.” Adam lifted his head—but didn’t move his hand—and turned to greet their mutual friend. “Hey, Trenton. What brings you to The Hang Out, man?”
“An unfinished matter with Kimber.” He directed that disconcerting denim-blue stare at her. “Can we talk outside?”
Deke had phrased his words into a question, but his glare said he wasn’t asking at all.
Kimber swallowed. Wearing a pair of fine-fitting jeans, black boots, a khaki T-shirt with the word Army stretched in black above his solid left pectoral, and a demanding glare, Deke looked like a man on a serious personal mission. Everything about his demeanor seconded that. He hadn’t greeted his buddy and had barely answered Adam’s question. He hadn’t said hello to either of them. No pleasantries; just down to business.
What more did he have to say that he hadn’t said to her in his kitchen yesterday? In a few words, he’d both annoyed and spooked her, and she’d run like a girl in over her head. Just like he claimed she was. Since nothing in his expression looked remotely apologetic, she couldn’t imagine what he had in mind, other than more humiliation. No thanks.
“You said plenty yesterday. We don’t have anything left to talk about.”
“Yes, we do.”
“I’m busy dancing.” She turned away to engage Adam’s brother again—Brett? Buck? Something like that.
She flashed the blond club owner a smile and swiveled her hips—all too conscious of Deke’s gaze drilling into her back.
As soon as the nameless Catrell brother smiled back, the song ended. The DJ announced a JELL-O shot special and his intent to take a break.
Deke grabbed her wrist and whirled her around to face him, golden brow arched. “You’re not dancing now.”
Damn it! Kimber fisted her hands on her hips. “Say whatever you came to say, then.”
“Outside.”
The command in his tone raised her hackles. “Is this going to take long?”
“No.”
“Then just say it and be gone.”
He hesitated. “I don’t think you want an audience.”
Or he didn’t. For reasons she could only guess at, he didn’t want the Catrell brothers, each now staring at Deke intently over her shoulders, to hear what he was about to say. If he said more of the filth he’d spouted to her a mere twenty-four hours ago, then he’d come off smelling like shit. He should know that . . . but maybe he didn’t. Deke was hardly a master of the social graces. The chance to give him enough rope to hang himself made her smile.
“I don’t mind. Shoot.”
“Okay”—he shrugged—“yesterday, when Luc and I had you naked and spread across our kitchen counter with our mouths on your—”
“Stop!” she gasped, feeling furious heat dash up her cheeks.
The brother whose name she couldn’t remember chuckled in her ear.
Deke smiled smugly. Bastard! He’d come to fight dirty and had gone straight for the jugular. Why hadn’t she seen that coming?
“She belong to you and Luc?” Adam asked Deke.
“Yes.”
“Hell no!” she blurted at the same time.
That muscle in Deke’s jaw began working again. “Come outside with me so we can discuss this.”
Did the man just not know when to quit? “I don’t belong to you and your cousin, I’m not coming near your kitchen counter again, and I’m certainly not going outside with you.”
“I came here to say something I think you want to hear.”
“I’m not interested in being just another wet hole to you, and I’m too pissed to care.”
One second, Deke stood two feet away, not touching any part of her. A blink later, he crowded in and hovered toe-to-toe with her, one arm around her waist, the other tangled in the hair hanging halfway down her back.
“I’m not going to ask again. Come outside and talk with me or I’m going to find the nearest chair, pull that little skirt up over your ass, and spank your pretty cheeks red with the entire crowd watching.”
Kimber didn’t waste the breath necessary to say, “You wouldn’t.” She knew better.
Irritation poisoned her thoughts. He was a high-handed SOB. Even as she thought it, though, her belly fluttered with something . . . No, that could not be arousal.
“You have no right.”
He shrugged. “I’ll sure enjoy it.”
Adam shoved his way between them. “As much as I’d like the view, there’s no violence or nudity in the club, y’all. You’ll have to take it outside.”
She whirled on him, jaw dropping. The jerk was letting her go and feeding her to the wolves all in one sentence? Figures the men would stick together.
“You know what? Go screw yourselves—all of you. I’m going h
ome.”
The Catrell brothers laughed. Blood raging with fury, she stormed toward the exit.
Assholes, the lot of them! And she wasn’t stupid enough to believe that Deke would leave it at that. He was following her; she felt him about two steps behind. Damn the man.
As she reached the club’s door, the music started up again. Kimber found the biggest, meanest bouncer of the trio clustered around the door and smiled his way.
“Can you escort me to my car? I’m being followed.” She sent a nasty glare over her shoulder at Deke.
“Aw, honey,” Deke crooned and wrapped an arm around her. “Don’t be mad.”
Before she could tell him where to shove his comment and inform the bouncer that he was an annoying stranger, deranged stalker— something—Deke hauled her against him, dropped his head, and trapped every furious word on the tip of her tongue with a blistering kiss.
She struggled, but within moments, all she knew was Deke.
Warm male, ripe with persuasion, soaked in sin, invaded her senses. His mouth coaxed her. Kimber resisted. She really tried. Despite the fury swirling through her, Deke incited a familiar leap of pulse, a surge of want, that doused her protests. With a brush of his lips, a slow caress of tongue, the soft slide of his palm down her back, he enveloped her in desire—and not just hers. His own was so tangible, she tasted the tang of his arousal on her tongue.
His kiss melted her with the restrained urgency of his own need, softened into a tangle of lips, breaths, and tongues she would never have imagined Deke Trenton capable of. Timeless, weightless, thoughtless, Kimber let herself float away into the heart-racing, heat-pooling power of his kiss.
Until he nipped at her lip, soothed it with a tender lick, then slid a soft brush of his mouth over hers. Without thinking, she leaned into him, seeking more kisses, more contact, more him.
Deke grabbed her shoulders. “I’m sorry about yesterday. Come home with me, kitten.”
“Have a good night, y’all,” said the bouncer with a teasing smile.
While she tried to think of a good comeback, Deke took her hand and led her outside, into the humid summer night.
