Sweetest Sin: Bad Boy Bundle

by Delilah Wilde

  I rolled over. No light shining in under the door. The hallway light was off. Whatever was going on out there, it didn't concern me.

  At least, I didn't think it did.

  "Why the hell were you out there working on her car to begin with?" Marti's raspy voice was too loud to be considered a whisper. "Now look at you. You've got a new cut on your face. Your eye is even more swollen. What the fuck were you doing out there?"

  "It was an accident," a man said. "It's not like I went out there and got hurt on purpose. It'll be fine."

  "It won't be fine. What about the photographs tomorrow? So you can stand at the arch, big fucking deal. Our pictures are going to be ruined, though. I can't have pictures with me standing next to you looking like this."

  I rolled back over. Somehow, I found satisfaction over something going wrong for Marti's wedding tomorrow. And by the sounds of it, this was something I couldn't get blamed for. At least, I didn't think she could blame me for it.

  My stomach twisted in knots as their words continued to swim through my head. Whose car was he working on? How did he get hurt working on a car?

  Who was he?

  I yanked the blankets off me and rolled over again. All my questions could be answered if I just walked out of the room and headed downstairs to grab some food. But then again, Marti could always turn her rage back on me. I wasn't sure if I was ready for that or not.

  Part of me wanted to run away for the night. To grab Tim from down the hall, hop on his bike, and just ride away. And never come back.

  I couldn't do that to Grams, though. I loved Grams and I felt bad that I hadn't spent much time with her over the weekend. Now the weekend was almost over, and the worst day was about to start in just a few, short hours. The wedding was scheduled to start at three in the afternoon, followed by the reception. I only needed to stick around for the first part of the reception. After that, I could leave and no one would say anything.

  My thoughts turned back to Tim. My lips turned up into a smile as I stretched my sore muscles. I took in a deep breath as my fingers glided over my curves.

  My nipples hardened in no time as the flicked back up. I sucked in my bottom lip and reached up under my shirt. Squeezing and rolling my nipples between my fingers. Imagining Tim's strong hands gripping me. Lightning traveled my nerves down to my core. I wasn't even sure what it was about him that was turning me on just then. Was it the thought of Tim? Or just the thought of what he did to me?

  It didn't seem to matter. I dipped my fingers down between my legs and groaned. My juices coated my fingers as they swirled and danced. Gliding over my opening. My thoughts swam back to the first time Tim touched me. With one hand plunging deep into my pussy while I sucked on his other hand to keep from screaming.

  And I needed that again now. I pressed my fingers into my core as I brought my other hand up to my mouth and licked. Grinding my hips against my right hand and sucking on the fingers of my other hand. The muscles in my stomach tightened and flexed to the point they almost cramped. The heat of my orgasm built up deep within.

  I grabbed my pillow and pulled it down over my head as I grit my teeth. Rubbing and stroking my clit until I couldn't take it anymore. Until my nerves were so sensitive that the slightest movement caused my body to quake out of control.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Shaky and sated, I rolled out of bed and grabbed my robe. The whispers in the hallway seemed to have disappeared, so I hoped this would be a good time to run into the bathroom to wash up a bit before heading back to bed.

  Afraid that my pupils would fall under attack by the bright light, I decided, instead, to leave the light off. My eyes glanced out the window as I was drying my hands.

  "That's weird," I whispered. I squinted, as if that would clear my vision, and leaned in closer to the window pane.

  Smoke poured out of the garage.

  Tim's words rang through my head again. He needed my keys to take a look at my car. Marti was angry at someone for working on my car and getting hurt.

  Was that just a coincidence?

  I finished drying my hands and shook my head. It had to be a coincidence. It probably wasn't even smoke. It was probably steam or something from all the rain. I had myself almost convinced. Still, my stomach jumped into knots. My heart pounded into my throat.

  I couldn't get rid of the feeling that something was wrong. The smoke didn't look right.

  I slunk back out of bed and grabbed a pair of sweat pants.

  "I'll just run out to the garage and prove there's nothing wrong. Then I can come back to bed." I told myself. "Tim probably just started the engine to my car while he was working on it and it just looks weird because of the weather."

  I took a moment to rethink my choice in tee shirts before heading down to the garage. If Tim was outside working on my car, I didn't want to show up wearing this dingy gray tee shirt. I opted instead for a fresh tee shirt. Conservative enough to pass myself off as someone who was merely concerned about my car, but if I decided I wanted to turn on the charm, it could cling to my curves. After throwing on some sneakers and a sweater, I tiptoed out into the hallway and down the stairs.

  Rain drops fell softly against my skin.

  I got to the garage and pulled on the door.

  Locked.

  I pulled harder.

  The doors creaked and buckled. Still they wouldn't open.

  I stretched up to peer through the windows. I couldn't see anything. No movement. Just choking exhaust filling every crevice.

  I walked around the side of the garage and started testing some of the windows. They were all shut tight, but one happened to be unlocked.

  This is crazy, I thought. Tim is probably upstairs sleeping and just left the car running. "That's got to be it. I'm going to break in here like a crazy person and there's probably nothing even wrong."

  I pulled the sweater off and wrapped it around my face, hoping it would work as some sort of flimsy gas mask for when I got inside. Then I climbed up the pile of firewood to the window and forced it open.

  The air inside the garage was smothering and hot. The car engine sat running, pouring out its exhaust. I held my breath and ran to the doors, hoping I could get them unlocked and open. I tripped over something on my way, landing on the cement floor and knocking the wind out of my chest. My knee cracked against the floor.

  I fought to keep from taking in a new breath. But I couldn't do it. I taste of exhaust made me want to puke as I struggled back to my feet to get to the door. Finally, I got to the release button and pulled.

  The doors loosened and I was able to push them outward. Exhaust fumes billowed as they escaped.

  As the air cleared in the garage, I looked back. I was going to have to go back in to turn the car off, I just wasn't looking forward to going back in there. My eyes darted around the garage. Tools lay scattered across the floor.

  Then something twitched on the floor.

  At first I thought it was an animal, a raccoon or something stuck inside the garage. I leaned in closer and as the air finished clearing out, I could see a foot.

  Oh God, a human foot.

  I scrambled over, tearing my sweater away from my face, and saw Tim lying on the floor. Blood covered the side of his face. "Oh my God," I whispered over and over again. "Oh my God. Tim, what the hell happened?"

  I pressed my ear against his chest and held my breath. I couldn't hear anything. "No, no, no, no, no, no...."

  I clamored up to the car to turn off the engine and grabbed Tim's shoulders to drag him outside. Then I tried to listen for his heartbeat again.

  Thump. Thump.

  It was slow, but it was there. I sighed with relief and tapped his cheek. "Tim?" I whispered. "Tim, oh my God, Tim. Please be okay. Please tell me my car didn't kill you."

  He coughed. His eyelids fluttered and his eyes rolled back into his head. I shook his shoulders, cursing my own bad luck to not bring a cellphone with me. "Come on, please be okay," I whispered as I tapped on his c
heek again. I used the sweater to wipe away some of the blood.

  He coughed again and opened his eyes. He blinked a few times, trying to focus. Then he shook his head and tried to sit up.

  "You have to go," he said.

  "What? I what? What do you need? Do you need a doctor?"

  He shook his head again and glanced around the yard. The house was completely dark, only a faint light on in the kitchen. The rain slowed to a mist, working with the moonlight to give the grass a silvery lining.

  "Doctor," he spat out. "Grams...Snoopy."

  His speech was so broken and forced. I wasn't sure what he was trying to say. I left him curled on his side and ran inside the house to the kitchen.

  "What the fuck am I doing?" I whispered to myself. How was I going to get him to the hospital? I glanced around the kitchen. A cookie jar in the shape of Snoopy. Inside, I pulled out a set of keys.

  I darted up the stairs to my room, grabbed my cell phone off its charger, and ran back down the stairs. I slipped in the wet grass on my way to Grams's old station wagon, but I managed to crawl inside. She wasn't going to be happy to wake up and find her car missing, but she would understand once I had a chance to explain everything to her.

  I pulled the station wagon up closer to Tim and jumped out to help him in. His coughing shook his entire body, and he vomited onto the grass. Finally, he curled into the backseat and I strapped him in as best as I could. Then I hopped back into the driver's seat and took off down the driveway.

  ***

  Most of the night was a blur for me. I woke up with rain to see Angela looming over me. I couldn't tell if the water streaming down her face was rain or tears. Everything seemed blurry, as if it were part of a dream I was trying to remember.

  I was still trying to piece everything together. The taste of exhaust coated my mouth and throat, making my stomach lurch.

  That's right.

  I had to get Angela out of here.

  "Do you need a doctor?" she asked.

  I tried to bob my head, holding my fist over my mouth to keep from puking. The cold air sliced through my lungs every time I tried to take in a deep breath. If Angela could take me to a doctor then she wouldn't be here. "Doctor. Grams...Snoopy."

  My words stuck in my throat. But she must have figured them out because the next time I opened my eyes she was pulling me into Grams's old station wagon.

  "Male. 29. Possible carbon monoxide poisoning," were the next words I heard. Bright lights flashed above me as a team of people shoved me down a hallway. One doctor snaked a tube down my throat while another one shined a little flashlight into my eyes. I could hear Angela somewhere in the room trying to explain how she found me.

  All this fuss...over me.

  "You were right to bring him here. His oxygen levels are low, but they're climbing. We're going to keep him here so we can monitor him."

  "Okay," Angela replied. "How long?"

  "It's hard to say. We've placed a tube to help him breathe and to protect his airway. We're going to monitor him over the next eight to twelve hours. If his oxygen comes up to normal, we'll remove the tube and see if he it stays that way. It'll give him a chance to clear out the rest of the carbon monoxide. Now, I have to ask you this, has he ever exhibited signs of self harm or suicidal tendencies before?"

  "I...no that's not what this was. I don't think. I don't know. I was talking to him and he seemed happy just a little while before this. He was just going to work on my car."

  "On your car?"

  "Yea, a tree fell on it the other night. He was going to take a look and see if he could fix it or if he knew someone who could."

  I tried to shake my head and hold out my hand, to let the doctor know he was fishing up the wrong scenario. But no one seemed to take notice.

  Soon after that, everyone cleared out of the room. Angela's breathing seemed hard. She walked over and sat down on the chair next to me. I couldn't hold my eyes open. Her fingertips grazed against my temple as she brushed my hair away from my face.

  How the hell was I going to tell her to stay away from that wedding now?

  ***

  I hated that doctor for planting the idea of suicide into my head. That thought hadn't even crossed my mind before he said something. But now it was all I could think about. I couldn't think of any other explanation. And it made me realize how little I even knew about Tim. I wasn't even sure what he did for a living. I couldn't even say for sure if he was happy.

  Trying to look at my car for damage caused by the tree falling shouldn't have required turning on the engine. And even if he wanted to test it out to see if the car would still start, it didn't require it to be running long enough to fill the garage with fumes like that.

  And why lock the doors?

  Unless he was trying to keep Marti out. Maybe that was it? Maybe Marti had gone after him for something? She was arguing with someone out in the hallway about working on a car so late at night. Maybe it was Tim? Maybe she found out about us and she was jealous and he had to lock her out of the garage to stay away from her?

  All these thoughts floated through my head one after the other. I hated myself for not realizing that something was wrong sooner. I sat down in the chair next to his bed, debating whether I should stay there the night or not. I wasn't ready to call Grams yet to warn her about the car. I didn't want to wake anyone up. But then again, it didn't seem right to leave Tim by himself in the hospital.

  I leaned my head back into the chair and propped my feet up against the bed. It wasn't comfortable, not even close. But I was exhausted. More than anything I wanted to know the answer to the doctor's question.

  Nurses came into the room through the rest of the night and into the morning. Every time, checking his stats, feeling his pulse, checking the beeping monitors, and offering fake smiles of reassurance. I was sure they all believed he had done this to himself on purpose.

  By nine, I knew I couldn't delay any longer. I had to call Grams and at least let her know that I had her car.

  I dialed her number and waited for someone to pick up the other line.

  "Hello?"

  "Hi Grams."

  "Angela, hi sweetheart. Where are you? Marti is looking for you."

  "I know, I'm sorry I'm not there. Tim's hurt."

  "Hurt?"

  "I found him last night, he's hurt pretty bad." I didn't have the stomach to tell her what the doctors were all theorizing. "So I'm sorry I didn't wake you up but I took your station wagon and brought him to the hospital and the doctors are all working on him."

  "Is he going to be okay? What happened? Which hospital are you at?" Grams asked the series of questions before I could process the answer to the first one.

  "I, uh. Well...."

  "You stay there with him. Don't you worry about anything happening over here."

  "But, what about Marti's wedding? He's mostly sleeping anyway. They have him on a bunch of medications now. I was thinking I could sneak out of here, get to your house just for the ceremony, and then pack some clothes and come back here with you."

  "Oh, I'm sure that will be fine. I'll let everyone know."

  She hung up before I could say anything else. I was glad she had volunteered to let everyone know I wouldn't be there for the entire day. Marti was going to be pissed, of course. And my mother was probably going to demand an apology again. Or worse.

  I took a breath and stared at Tim for a few minutes. I hoped he would wake up so he could clarify all the questions running through my head. He didn't, of course.

  All the way back to Grams's house I wondered what she had said to everyone. Was I going to walk into a room filled with angry people demanding answers? Or concerned family members who would try their best to carry on their day without us?

  I pulled into the driveway and slammed on the brakes.

  I couldn't believe my eyes. The beamer! The fucking beamer!

  "Holy shit," I swore out loud as my eyes darted around the front yard.

  It fin
ally stopped raining, but the ground was still wet and puddles had sprouted up everywhere in the driveway. No one was in the front yard at all.

  I drove Grams's station wagon up as close to the front door as possible and jumped out. I couldn't find anyone.

  "Hello?" I ran through the house screaming. "Hello?"

  "You must be Angela," a man said from the top of the stairs.

  "Where is everyone?"

  "Well, Marti and the rest of the wedding party are off doing wedding day things. Well, most of the rest of the wedding party, anyway. Hair, nails, pictures. All the stuff you're supposed to be doing."

  "What are you doing here?"

  "Me? I came for my wedding. But imagine my surprise when I show up for my wedding and find not only the man who attacked me, but also the little slut who rammed into my car."

  "You're the groom?"

  "Nice to meet you. Now, your little stunt is going to cost me over $1000 to buff out of the bumper of my car. Pay up."

  "I'm not paying you a dime. Even if I had the money, which I don't, I didn't do anything wrong. You were brake testing me and you failed. Simple as that."

  I felt fairly confident that he couldn't do anything here, but my heart thumped in my ears anyway. If he tried to do something here he would have to explain it to Marti and everyone else. And even though Marti wan't exactly the best person to confide in, and never had my side in anything, even she couldn't marry someone knowing what this guy was like.

  I hoped.

  "If you aren't going to pay me in cash then I'm going to take it out of your hide," he yelled and lunged at me.

  I ducked and twirled out of reach and ran toward the door.

  He jumped over and around me, knocking into the kitchen door just as my hand wrapped around the doorknob. My nail bent backwards, snapping clean from my fingertip as the door jerked out of my grip.

  "Let me go," I said.

  He grunted and swung out for me. I grabbed the umbrella stand and swung it around with all my might. It cracked against his shoulder and knocked him off balance for a moment. He managed to grab the other end of the umbrella stand and yanked it toward him. I let go of it before he could pull me along with it. I opted to grab the coat rack instead, flinging that around like a wizard with a staff, and clocked him in the side of the head.