by T. A. Grey
She spun around fast, her eyes going straight to the stairs and onto the man of her thoughts, the man who confounded her and intrigued her.
He was standing on the stairs, his eyes heavy and low-lidded, lips parted. Their eyes met and all too fast he was gone, bolting up the stairs.
What the…
“Gavin!”
She didn’t have time to stop and analyze the fact that she just, kind of, sort of, caught a glimpse of his face. The damned man seemed to invariably always find shadows and he moved so damned fast. Maybe she even needed glasses, too. But she’d gotten a glimpse.
A glimpse of scarred flesh, red jagged lines and pink smooth skin. Scar tissue. Pain. The face of a monster.
But Gavin MacKellen was no monster.
Her heart thudded against her rib cage like playing a xylophone.
He was running away. No, no way. She wouldn’t let him.
Some wild energy took hold of her, some instinct that sent her flying after him. She didn’t know why or what for, but all she knew was she needed to catch him, needed to stare into those eyes and memorize every strange, deformed line of his face.
She didn’t know why she needed any of this, only knew she had to.
Her bare feet streaked across the concrete floor then pounded up the stairs.
The door cracked as it banged closed ahead of her. His heavy steps thundered through the house matching the beat of her heart.
“Gavin!” she called out again.
She caught a glimpse of retreating flannel and fitted blue jeans as he turned up the stairs. Hope and excitement burst inside her. She was going to see him, she was going to win this time.
She raced up the stairs, saw his dark figure dart into his bedroom. His brand new door slammed shut, a lock clicked.
Alicia flew into it, breathing hard. Her hands pawed at the door handle. “Gavin MacKellen, open up this door right now.”
Silence greeted her.
Her jaw twisted and she beat her palms against the door. “God damn you! Don’t do this! Just show me already.” She screamed with all her frustrations and fears and yearnings.
Finally he spoke, sounding like he stood on the other side of that door. “I can’t do that. I’m sorry.”
Her fist banged on the door not once but twice, then three times. “I don’t want your apologies. I want these games to stop!”
More silence.
Frustration peaked and she growled, pulling at her hair and wanting to stomp her feet into the ground. One step, then two, she backed away from the door.
“The way you look at me, you want me. I know it and you know it.” She was breathing hard. “And yet here we are again on opposite sides of the door. I’m sick and tired of this game, Gavin. Do you hear me? Sick and tired of it. I’m done. I can’t even get through a week of this let alone a month. I’m just done, finished.”
She paced outside of his door, clenching her hands and unfisting, arms swinging in agitated movements.
“I said, do you hear me?” she shouted when she got no answer.
“Turn around.”
She blinked at the door. “What?” It was like she couldn’t even comprehend what he just said because it was so out of left field.
“Turn around and don’t move.”
“Why should I?” she asked between clenched teeth.
“Because I’m coming out.”
“You’re a coward.”
A ragged sigh, then, “Sometimes a man needs to work through things on his own. That’s what I’m doin’.”
Glaring, she spun around and crossed her arms. “Whatever; I’m turned around.” God, she as so mad she couldn’t even keep still. Her foot tapped incessantly against the floor.
The door opened with a creak; it took everything in her not to turn around. In fact, she was still debating doing just that even though it was a bitch kind of thing to do. She didn’t like the idea of lying or manipulating to get her way, because that wasn’t how she operated. She wanted him to show her because he wanted to, damn it.
Heat grew at her back as he came closer, reminding her quite suddenly that she stood there in nothing but lingerie. Oh.
Her foot stopped tapping as awareness came over her. What was he going to do? Would he finally show her his face?
Breathless, she waited. Butterflies danced in her stomach. Her fingers rubbed over her cuticles in a memorized, nervous gesture.
“Gavin?”
A cloth moved over her eyes. She started to shake her head to dislodge it but he reproved her with a gruff, “Don’t. It has to be like this. I can’t…I just can’t yet. Please,” he said, sounding like a man in pain. “Please give me this.”
Oh god, he had a way of making her heart flutter and skip beats like a scratched CD. It was the please that did it.
“O-okay,” she found herself saying. She’d say anything, she realized, if she could only get more moments like these. Where Gavin was sweet and caring of her, making her feel special. She couldn’t remember anyone ever making her feel like this. Like she was someone to be taken care of.
The cloth was a tie that would go with a suit. He wrapped it over her eyes. Darkness overwhelmed her, stifling her vision. The sound of her breathing sounded so much louder and harsher like it was being amplified. The heat at her back felt more intense.
He touched her shoulders. She noticed everything about his hands even down to the calloused tips; hands that were used in hard work every day. A man who used them. A shiver raced down her spine making her twitch.
“Gavin, what are you doing?”
Blood raced and rushed, pounding in her ears. The loose end of his flannel shirt brushed her back making her breath catch. She couldn’t keep her mouth closed, had to part her lips just to breathe.
“I’m gonna kiss you.”
“W-what?” Her tongue darted out to wet her lips.
He leaned in, infusing her with his heat and delicious scent. He smelled like warmth and sweat from working—all man. Her mouth watered and a tingle formed deep in her belly.
“Last night you said you wanted to kiss me,” he said in that hoarse, raspy voice. “Well, I’m gonna do it now because I want to. I want it so bad I can’t stop thinking about it. You drive my thoughts. You make me feel wild,” he said, leaning in until his face pressed into her hair, burrowing in her neck.
Another shiver. Gulp.
“You are the complete opposite of wild, I’d say.”
Soft lips pressed gently against her bare neck. Goosebumps streaked across her skin and she shuddered again. Her skin was starting to burn up, anticipation killing her. She craved him, wanted his hands around her hips, their bodies crushed together, his mouth on hers. She wanted everything so she could memorize it. So she could replay the scene again and again.
“Nah, you just didn’t know me before.”
“Before?”
“Before I met you. You may not see it, but things have changed around here, especially for me.”
His hands started to turn her in a slow circle. She felt like a fumbling buffoon trying to turn without sight, but she had his hands on her shoulders guiding her way.
Something soft brushed her stomach and her muscles flexed to pull herself away from it. Then the touch came again and she relaxed, recognizing it as his opened flannel brushing her.
Now that he had her facing him, Alicia felt herself steadily losing her bravado. Heck, she hadn’t realized she had bravado until it vanished. Right when she needed it, too.
Were they really going to kiss?
Why couldn’t she get her breathing under control?
Her ears perked and she almost smiled, almost. Why couldn’t he get his under control either?
Something tugged at her hair—his fingers. He was brushing it on either side of her face. She swallowed hard. It felt good. Really good. The strands tugging at her scalp creating little pinpricks of pleasure.
The wait was killing her. Her toes curled into the cold floor. “Are you going
to do it or what?”
That raspy voice laughed, a strange, morphed sound. “I was working up to it. Anxious?” he asked, his voice taking on a husky quality.
A shiver went through her belly. “Maybe I am,” she responded daringly.
He cupped her cheek, a rough thumb swiping over it, then pressing into the dip at the corner of her mouth. “I think you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”
Her lips twitched with a smile. That’s nice and all, really but… “Are you stalling?” God, was she really that excited to kiss him?
Yes.
“No…” He cursed. “Maybe.”
“Let me help you then.” She smiled, reaching to grab hold of the open flannel and jerked.
A grunt, and then she could feel him leaning down, so she rose up on her toes. Blindfolded or not, she knew when they were close, could feel the warmth of his face, his ragged breaths. He smelled like coffee.
Damn, but he was tall, she thought, standing on her toes, straining. Heat suddenly suffused her chest where their bodies aligned, chest to chest. In prime position, she tossed one arm around his neck to catch him in her trap.
Tension radiated from him as if he was struggling.
With her free hand she reached to cup his cheek so she could easily find his mouth. But he jerked away. “No,” he said harshly.
“I was just trying to---”
“Forget it,” he cut her off. He started to pull away. “This was a bad idea. I knew it wouldn’t work.”
Hey, hey, hey. What was going on here? Suddenly frantic, she grabbed at the flannel lapels again and tried for blind-chaotic kissing.
Her lips flew at him, found his chin. Strange textures met her lips, skin with dips, distortions.
Tension blasted off of him in waves. Feeling a rush in her blood to hurry, she strained on the tips of her very toes and aligned their mouths without sight—no easy feat—and then it was cinched.
She was kissing Gavin MacKellen.
Without her vision, everything felt intensified. His lips couldn’t possibly be that soft to the touch but firm beneath. Could they? She slanted her lips across his, matching them together.
Warmth, tingles, flutters, all of the good stuff exploded inside her. Her grip tightened on his flannel. This was good.
Really good.
Her tongue tasted his bottom lip then pushed inside. That’s when his shell cracked. She tasted him, he tasted her, then his tongue met hers and they brushed, wet and hot. His head canted and took over the kiss.
Oh my.
A harsh, wicked sound vibrated from deep in his chest, something close to a purr or maybe a growl. Then, he was backing her up into the wall, his arm stealing around her waist and his hand cupping her cheek.
Then Gavin MacKellen was kissing her.
It was better than anything she’d ever had before. She thought she’d kissed some pretty good kissers in her life. Obviously not. Gavin just blew all her other kissing partners straight out of the water.
It wasn’t just the kiss either. It was being held in his arms, feeling the heat of a man, the strength of his body, and—she arched her hips up and found him straining against his jeans—he was all man.
Then someone banged on the front door and ruined it all.
He pulled back with a curse, then before her muddled brain could process it, he pushed her into her bedroom and closed the door. Before she could even pull the tie off her face she heard the lock click closed.
She banged on the door. “God dammit, Gavin!”
* * * * *
Whoever was on the other side of that door was getting a beating. Whether woman, man, or child, he didn’t care, because someone was gonna pay for interrupting his and Alicia’s first kiss. Then he was going back up there to finish it.
Holy hell.
He scrubbed a hand over his face. They kissed.
The banging at the door persisted. Growling, he threw it open.
“What?” he snapped.
Jo MacKellen raised his hands, palms out. “Whoa, there, Gav. You called me, remember?”
Gavin shook his head, struggling to remember, struggling to regrow brain cells back after that kiss. Holy fuck it’d been better than…he couldn’t even think of a comparison.
Jo cocked a dark brow. “Yeah, remember? About fifteen minutes ago, you called me sounding panicked. Couldn’t find Alicia,” he said with exaggerated patience.
“Right, yeah.” He cleared his throat, which still didn’t take the rasp out of it. “Well, I found her.”
Jo looked him over from head to toe. “Everything okay? You look a little…distracted.”
“Great, great. We’re fine.”
Jo’s cocked brow clearly said oh, is that right? He peered into the house then up the stairs. “Where was she?”
“Found her in the basement.”
His cousin frowned. “What was she doing down there?”
“Working. Had herself a little shop set up down there.” He left out the part about finding her in the hottest little panty/bra thing he’d ever seen. And the kissing, too.
Jo nodded, his eyes seeing Gavin’s flushed cheeks and missing nothing. Bastard.
“Listen, I came here for another reason too.”
“What is it?” Please, not another murder.
“Dan Knight was on watch today over Alicia. He said Marcus came by.”
His body completely froze. The only movement he made was a single blink.
Jo nodded, understanding Gavin’s reaction. “He said he didn’t go in the house but that he shared a few words with Alicia. I don’t know what about.”
That sick fuck was here talking to Alicia. He charged out the door in the next second, only one thing on his mind.
“Gav, Gavin? Where are you going, man?”
He palmed his truck keys out of his pocket, opened the truck door and glared at Jo. “You comin’ or what?”
Jo slowly ground his jaw, then nodded.
Gavin peeled away from the house, the engine roaring.
“What’s the plan then?” Jo asked.
Gavin drummed his index finger on the steering wheel. “Got a smoke?”
Jo’s snorted. “You gonna start that up again? And hell no, you know I don’t like that shit.”
Gavin shrugged. A man could hope.
“So what’s this really about?”
Gavin shot him a brief look. “What do you mean?”
Jo’s bulk made the big truck cab look like he was sitting in a mini-cooper. He adjusted the seat to give him some more leg room then sighed when it wasn’t enough.
“Well, we’re charging out to Marcus’ house, at least that’s what I’m assuming we’re doing, and we’re doing it because of that woman you got holed up in your house. So, like I said, wanna explain?”
“Don’t see what there is to explain.”
Jo laughed. “Oh, please, tell me what’s going on with you and the woman. It serious?” His voice got quiet. “You show her yet?”
Gavin’s jaw cocked, the bone popped. Jo didn’t even have to say it, ’cause Gavin knew. Did you show her your face yet? Fuck no, he didn’t.
“I don’t know if it’s serious, but I know I want it to be.”
Jo peered at him with smart eyes. “So you haven’t shown her.”
Gavin didn’t reply.
Jo sighed wearily then rubbed a big paw of a hand over the back of his neck. “Man, I’m tellin’ you, you gotta show her. Just get it over and done with, like rippin’ a Band-Aid off or stealing that first kiss from a girl.”
Gavin jerked, the truck swerving in the lane. Jo laughed. “I strike a nerve? Which was it—the showing her or the kissin’ her?”
He didn’t answer but his cheeks darkened. Jo boomed out a hearty laugh. “Man, you already kissed her. Good for you. How was it? Wait, wait, wait, better yet, how did you manage to pull that off if you haven’t shown her your face?”
“That’s none of your business.”
Jo shru
gged those huge shoulders. “You’re right. I’m only your cousin, your top lieutenant, and your friend. Plus, if you decide to mate with her, she’ll be my queen too, you know.”
“What does that mean?”
“Just sayin’ that I have some stake in this, is all.” Jo grew quiet, smirking. “It was that good, huh.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Gavin pressed his foot into the accelerator. They couldn’t get there quick enough.
“See, I’m betting that if it was bad, you’d be talking about it, or at the very least looking disappointed. However, when you answered that door you looked ready to tear my head off. So I’m guessin’ it was good. Damn good, too.”
Gavin didn’t say anything as he pulled to a hard stop outside Marcus Graham’s house.
All the conversation and jokes were pushed aside as they stepped out of the truck.
He went up to that front door in long, angry glides. His fist beat against the door. Voices sounded inside then the door opened.
“What do you want?” The tall blond that answered wasn’t Marcus but his younger brother, Dave.
“Get Marcus, now.”
The boy, no more than eighteen, glared at him with hatred usually reserved for a personal vendetta. Not that that surprised Gavin. The whole Graham family hated him, thought he’d stolen the Alpha position out from under Marcus. Didn’t matter that he won it fair and square.
Gavin peered inside the Graham’s house. Marcus was the eldest and kept his two younger brothers, Dave and Harry, in line with militaristic fashion. The house was clean and neat with simple furnishings and no added fluff. Probably cause it’d never seen a woman’s touch of any kind. The Graham’s mother had died when Marcus was eleven and none of the boys had ever been mated or taken on a serious relationship. Their father left them about two years after her death. It’d probably been a good thing. Jerry Graham was a mean son of a bitch with a quick temper and loose fists.
Harry came up from the basement door. He was bulky by Graham standards, whose physiques bordered on slender and lean. Gavin knew firsthand just how strong Marcus was and his slender body did not retract from that.
“Davey, get inside,” Harry ordered, crossing his arms. Dave got behind his older brother. “What’s this about?” Harry asked.
