Plain Jane and the Bad Boy (Plain Jane Series)

by Tmonique Stephens

  It wasn’t intentional. She was sure Liam hadn’t taken off his shirt for Mack and Billy’s entertainment. They wouldn’t appreciate the beads of sweat rolling down his shoulders and back. Or how each individual muscle comprised to make one stunning back, flexed with each swing of the sledgehammer.

  The Mayhem tattoo emblazoned between his shoulder blades was beautiful and sickening—and he shouldn’t have it. When a member left the club, their tats were either burned, or cut from their body. Sometimes both. Still having the tat and displaying it proudly around other members, what did that mean?

  “Hey, didn’t know you were there.”

  She’d zoned out and hadn’t realized he’d stopped swinging and was facing her. Oh, look at that. His front was sweaty too. Beads collected to travel between his pecs to his washboard abs. All that he hid under those loose T-shirts.

  “Um…” Thoughts scattered, she scrambled to gather them. Focusing on the bald eagle tattooed over his left pec didn’t help when it drew attention to his nipple.

  He stepped forward. She backed up. Before, he would stop and give her the space she needed. This time, he didn’t. He followed her until she was pressed against the wall in the hallway.

  She should feel threatened. He was close. So close…yet not too close. Not close enough. The space between them seemed vast and she hated it. Suddenly, everything felt weird—her skin, the hair on the back of her neck, the straps of her bra, the pinch of her flats, her heart vibrating against her ribs, the air sawing in and out of her mouth.

  “Come here.” He held out his hand and waited for her to take it.

  His hand was dirty and callused. Around his neck, a filtered mask. “Should I be wearing one of those?” she asked, stalling.

  “Nah, you’re only here for a few.” Hand still outstretched waiting for her.

  It wasn’t easy to reach across the distance and take his warm hand. Did he realize the amount of faith it took? She suspected he did as he tugged her into the bathroom until they were in front of a partially demolished wall.

  “I took on this house for a fellow vet. He’s disabled and needs wheelchair access to all areas of the house, especially the bathroom.”

  He held her hand as he talked. His fingers moved over the back of her hand in a soothing, abstract rhythm. Did he even realize what he was doing? Either way, she didn’t want him to stop. “That’s really sweet.”

  His grin was all sorts of sexy. “We’re gonna knock out this wall so he has a seamless transition from the bedroom to the bathroom.”

  “Sounds like a big job.”

  “Yeah. I’m doing it at cost.”

  “Really?” She squeezed his hand and brought it to her chest. “That’s so…I can’t put into words how…” He stared at her and her train of thought went skiing off the rails. Flustered, she dropped his hand and looked away, and would’ve retreated all the way to the front yard, except his heavy arm circled her waist with a loose grip. She could escape if she wanted. She didn’t.

  “Wanna take a swing at the wall?” A slight pivot and they faced the structure. Partially destroyed, she could see into the bedroom.

  “What? Huh?” Talk about a left turn outta nowhere. “Um. I guess.” Except she’d never hit anything, never mind a wall.

  His arm trailed away across her lower back as he picked up the sledgehammer. “Yeah, you want to, and if you don’t, I want you to.”

  Well all right then. Just take her decision making away.

  Standing in front of her, he brought the handle of the hammer to eye level. “It’s heavy, so you need to grab it with both hands.”

  He hadn’t lied. The minute she wrapped her hand around the handle and he slowly released it, the weight registered. “You want me to swing this thing?” When I can barely lift it?

  He snorted. “You are stronger than you think, Sabrina.” He took her by the shoulders and spun her to face the wall. In her ear, he whispered, “You’re a survivor. You’re a badass bitch. Channel your inner Wonder Woman or Harley Quinn and smash that shit.”

  Liam stepped away. He gave her plenty of room to swing and miss.

  “Now, do I need to explain the objective is to hit the wall and not any vital organs?” She threw a glare at him over her shoulder. “There is a hospital nearby, I will get you there in time, so don’t pull your punches.” He chuckled.

  She hoped he wasn’t joking about the hospital. “All right. I can do this,” she mumbled, hoisted the sledgehammer, and took a whack. The gentlest whack in the world. She’d barely marred the paint job.

  Liam cleared his throat. He’d slipped into a worn blue T-shirt, the same color as his jeans, which did nothing to hide the stunning body beneath the cotton, and did nothing to erase the memory seared into her brain. “That’s not gonna do, honey.” Legs braced, arms folded, a condescending smirk on his face.

  She gave him a mental middle finger, hefted the sledgehammer, pretended she was Black Widow—her favorite badass because she had skill, not superpowers—and beat that wall like it stole her paycheck.

  The second swing rattled every bone in her body and barely put a dent in the drywall.

  “Good thing I hired you for paperwork and not manual labor,” Liam said dryly from the bleacher section. “Pretend it’s someone you hate.”

  Poof! That was all it took to gain the strength to lift and swing in a more coordinated, less herky-jerky motion. Enraged, she put her all into the third swing. Imagining Vincent’s face as the target fueled her. His arrogant mug, the bloody lip she got one Christmas, the fractured arm two years ago, the pain, the lies—shit, all of it, poured into her muscles. And damn, it was almost orgasmic. What she wouldn’t give to beat him the way he beat her, to hear his cries for mercy, to hear him pray for deliverance.

  Beneath her onslaught, the drywall crumbled, exposing the metal framework inside. She kept at it until her arms screamed and sweat burned her eyes. Halfway lifted, the sledgehammer faltered in her sweating hands. Liam snatched it away before she dropped it, and caught her when she stumbled.

  Flushed against him, the entire length of his body registered in excruciating detail. Chest, abs, pelvis. Too close. No one had been this close since—Do not think of his name. Especially not now.

  He swept her hair behind her head, threaded his fingers through the strands and brought her in close. “Feel better?”

  Better? No. Rage continued to hum through her body, making her feel…alive. Every single inch of her aware of every single inch of him. Suddenly, he wasn’t close enough. With a slight movement, she leaned in, and that was all it took.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Liam kissed her like he was testing the waters, his lips brushing hers, patiently teasing in an erotic dance. They were warm and softer than she expected, and utterly delicious. In the recesses of her mind she realized this was the first kiss she’d had from someone other than Vincent. Forcefully, she shoved him out of her mind.

  On tiptoes, she leaned in for more, just a little more, then she’d end the contact. Just a bit…

  He angled her head and grazed his lips across hers, back and forth, back and forth, until her lips parted. The first touch of his tongue had Sabrina pulling back. Liam didn’t stop her, but he didn’t release her either. His palm remained on her nape, his fingers in her hair. With his free hand, he cupped her chin, the rough pad of his thumb stroked her bottom lip. The sensation had her breath trapped in her lungs and her nipples tightening, painfully. She hated Vincent’s kisses. They were sloppy, and hard, he liked to bite, and he tasted of cigarettes and vodka, which always smelled like rubbing alcohol to her. Do. Not. Think of him!

  “Hey, where did you go?”

  She blinked and refocused on the man in front of her. Liam. Damn, she wanted his mouth on her mouth, and anywhere else he wanted to put it.

  She tilted her head, ready for him. He skimmed her lips and cheek, then dipped his head to press an open-mouthed kiss to her neck. A moan slipped free but only as long as it took for him
to slant his mouth over hers. Languid heat pulsed through her veins to collect between her legs. She throbbed. Her mouth opened and she let him inside. His tongue, tentative at first with light strokes that teased her, incited her to want more, desperately. Just receiving wasn’t enough, not anymore.

  She sucked his tongue into her mouth and opened wide as he swept into her mouth and took command of the kiss, and of her. He wrapped that hard body around her, let her feel every inch of him. A tiny part of her braced, ready for panic to chase away the passion, but it never came. All she felt was heat from him, but mostly, from herself. And all of it pooled in her groin.

  She rubbed against him, couldn’t help it, the ache between her thighs was maddening. He moaned into her mouth and the sound of his hunger reverberated in her bones. All from a kiss, two mouths meeting, never, ever, had she burned, ached, lost herself like this from something so monumentally simple. A kiss.

  One hand stayed in her hair, holding her steady. She couldn’t escape. Fuck, she didn’t want to. The other hand strayed to her ass and squeezed. Her leg came up all on its own, and that hand of his slid down to her knee and kept it wrapped around his hip.

  The kiss deepened. No longer gentle, his mouth was rough, his mustache abrasive on her lips and skin, and yet, she wanted more. Demanded it.

  “Easy, baby,” he said, coming up for air.

  Easy? Why would he say— She looked down to find one hand fisting his shirt, the other shoved down his pants. Flustered, she released both, and yanked away, but Liam’s hands on her hips didn’t let her get far. “I-I’m s-sorry! I sh-shouldn’t…” Why couldn’t she string a sentence together?

  “Shhh.” He gave her a barely there kiss on her forehead. “It’s okay, baby.” His hands ran up and down her sides from her ribs to her hips, the motion soothing. “There’s nothing to be sorry for.”

  “Then why did you stop?” she demanded.

  His chuckle was low, sultry, and he kissed her again, his tongue delving deep into her mouth. His kiss was hot, demanding she respond in kind. She licked into his mouth, moaning with each stroke. His hands slid to her ass and palmed two handfuls and pulled her into his body, and rocked her against his hard length.

  The feel of him shocked her back to her senses. With a twist of her head, she broke the kiss and pushed at his shoulders. Immediately, he stopped and put a fraction of daylight between them. His heated gaze roamed her features, concern, not anger etched on his grill. His hands remained on her ass.

  “Hey.” Slowly, his hands coasted upward to her waist. “Easy, there.”

  She couldn’t catch her breath. Frankly, she wasn’t sure she wanted to. Breathing, shit, thinking seemed to stop when his lips touched her body, but she wasn’t ready for this. For any of this. “I’m…” Deep breath to clear her head. “I’m not ready—”

  “I know you’re not, and it’s okay.” He kissed her temple and just held her, and it was enough. Surrounded by his strength, his warmth and scent teasing her senses, her hands crept around to his back. She held on.

  “Have dinner with me,” he asked when she finally released him. His gaze devoured her.

  Did he say have dinner with me or have me for dinner? Either way, yes almost popped out. Then she remembered her responsibilities. “Can’t. Vivi.” Disappointed, she eased out of his arms. It would’ve been nice to have dinner, in a restaurant, with other adults, like a regular person. Not that she had anything to wear to such an event. By the end of the relationship, Vincent wanted her in shapeless, drab outfits. Now, that’s all she had.

  “Oh, yeah.” He gave her a sheepish glance.

  Clearly, he forgot she had a child, which didn’t piss her off because it meant he didn’t see her as someone’s mother, but as a woman.

  His gaze narrowed. “Where is Vivi?”

  Talk about forgetting her child, she’d done just that. “Oh! She’s with Mack.” She spun away only to be halted by Liam taking her hand. “Mack won’t let anything happen to her and we don’t hear screaming, so she’s okay.”

  Made sense, but she still wanted to check. Without asking, Liam led here to the living room windows looking out onto the front lawn. There, she spied Vivi being entertained with a game of peekaboo from a very animated Mack. The carrier was on the hood of Liam’s truck. Her little arms and legs flayed, and her squeal of delight reached into the room.

  “See, nothing to worry about. Maybe we could get him to babysit.”

  Um, no. “I’d better go.” Yet she continued to hold his hand.

  “Wanna tell me why you stopped by? Or did my charm draw you to me?”

  He flirted with her. Yeah, they’d just shared a blistering kiss, but flirting meant it wasn’t an accident. Stop being a dolt. He invited you to dinner. Of course, he’s flirting. But why? God, I’m so confused. And horny. I’m actually horny, when I’d swear the nerve endings down there had withered.

  A mental check brought her back to the present. “Um, you had a visitor. Said his name was Razor.” One blink and his expression went from open to shuttered. Clearly, Liam didn’t care for the man. “He said he wanted to talk to you but didn’t say what about. It was all pretty vague.”

  Liam pulled his phone from his rear pocket. Next instant he had the phone pressed to his ear. “Yeah, this is the son of Finlay Callahan, patient in bed eight. He all right?” Fear bled through his words. No one was ready to lose a parent.

  “He checked out? When? I called yesterday and no one said anything about him being ready to leave.” His surprise morphed into anger, then cooled to a simmer when he said, “Against doctor’s advice, huh. I see. Thanks.” He shoved the phone back into his rear pocket, muttering, “Boneheaded asshole can’t wait to die.”

  She thought he’d forgotten about her when his sharp gaze swung her way. She almost flinched from the intensity. “He showed up to say he wanted to talk? Nothing else?” The question seemed to be directed at himself, not her.

  “I’m sorry.”

  His brow lowered and his lips twisted into a scowl. “Don’t apologize for something that isn’t your fault.”

  Flustered, she blurted, “I’m sorry. Shit. Sorry. Fuck! Sorry is my default.”

  “Sorry shouldn’t be a default.” Annoyance layered his every word.

  She wasn’t having it, not from him. Done taking shit from anyone, she snapped. “Well, sorry for being human.” And huffed away.

  “Hey.” He took her arm.

  She snatched it away, spun, and with one finger, got in his face. “You don’t get to monitor my feelings. If I want to say sorry all day long, I damn well will.”

  A slow grin curled one side of his mouth. “Yes, ma’am.”

  That low voice of his did something to her insides. She dropped her hand and backed up. “I gotta go. Vivi has probably worn Mack down.”

  “To a nub.”

  She laughed harder than she meant to at that image now planted in her brain, and didn’t stop until a stitch in her side had her gasping.

  “You need to do that more, laugh.”

  She didn’t disagree. Also, didn’t admit there wasn’t much in her life to be happy about. Instead of replying to a statement that didn’t need one, she deflected. “I’m going to be late tomorrow. Vivi’s ENT appointment is at nine.”

  “Oh, yeah. You need some company?” The playful tone gone from his voice.

  He surprised her again. “Um…” Used to doing everything by herself, she didn’t know how to respond. Trusting someone gave them room to hurt you, and God knows she’d been hurt enough.

  Liam didn’t deserve that label or to be placed in that box, not after he’d done so much for her. He earned her trust. “I don’t want to take you away from your work.” Her standard delivery when he offered to do something sweet for her.

  Next thing she knew, Liam was striding out of the house and headed for Mack, and Sabrina sprinted after him. “Hey, I’m gonna be late tomorrow. You good with that?” he said to Mack, who gave a noncommittal shrug.
/>   “You the boss.”

  Now she had to suffer through Liam’s told-you-so smirk. “I’ll pick you up and drop you off at work afterward.”

  She gave in, and it wasn’t a hardship. “We’ll be ready at eight thirty tomorrow morning.”

  “I’ll be there.”

  She knew he would, and that terrified her just a bit because it would be so easy to depend on him. Way too easy. Scratch that. It terrified her a lot.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Liam watched Sabrina drive away, his mind not on her taste lingering on his lips, or the way passion had her trembling when he held her, or how he barely stopped her from grabbing his hard cock. No, his mind was on what the fuck Razor wanted, and what did he do to send her running to him, when a phone call would’ve done the job.

  And why wouldn’t she tell him?

  “What was that about?” Mack interrupted Liam’s thoughts and coasted next to him.

  “Huh?” He played dumb.

  “Where you two going tomorrow morning?”

  Liam decided not to go into too much detail. “The baby has a doctor’s appointment.”

  “Really.” Mack rocked on his heels as he lit a cigarette. “You really doing this?”

  Liam angled his head at Mack.

  Cigarette dangling between his lips, he held up his hands in mock surrender. “Man, I’m asking the question everyone else is gonna ask.”

  To hell with everyone else. “Tell me how this is anyone’s business?”

  Mack’s head bobbed once. “You do have a point.”

  “I told you to stop going to Willa’s book club meetings. Guy Code states we talk about beer, sports, and skanky sex. Anything with feeling, avoid at all cost.”

  “Again, you have a point.” Mack finished with a careless one shoulder shrug. “But, man. Single mothers are a red zone. Lots of drama and dirty diapers for a kid that ain’t yours, and baby daddy bullshit. Gotta deal with another man sniffing around your woman, remembering when he was with her, wondering if she got feelings she’s hiding for the bastard. Where is the daddy anyway?” He’d started slowly but ended with a flurry of words.