“So I’m reading too much into it…” she shook her head. Her eyes roamed around the shop and when they returned to him, he was horrified to see tears welling up there.
“Yeah,” he muttered. “I’m really not interested. What can I say. I’m sorry.” You’ll never know how much.
“But I thought…” suddenly she was unsure. His sharp words truly hit home. She went from disbelief to acceptance and her petite shoulders slumped with the weight of it. “I should have known better,” she hissed. A single tear fell when she blinked. It tracked its way down her cheek and dipped off her chin. It took everything in his willpower not to reach out and brush it away. “It’s always me. Always. No one wants me. You’re all the same. You make me think that I’m something, that there is something, and you take what you want and then you leave. I wish I could blame you, but I can’t. I’m the one who is stupid enough to fall for it every single fucking time.”
Those dark black velvet eyes of hers filled up with more tears. They ran down her cheeks in rivers, falling off her chin, splashing onto her clothing. She sniffed, reached up with the backs of her hands in a futile attempt to stem the tide.
She stared at him for one more second, her eyes brimming over. His heart broke. He wanted to reach out to her, gather her against him, tell her it wasn’t true for a second. That she couldn’t really believe it. That he hadn’t used her. He hadn’t ever meat to. That she was beautiful and far, far too good for him. That he needed her to keep her distance because she didn’t understand. She didn’t understand the risks and he did.
“I already fucked up your life,” he said brokenly. “I can’t do this and hurt you even more.”
“Fucked up my life? You haven’t fucked up my life in any way.”
“I would. I would, if we kept this going.”
She chewed on that for a moment. The twin spots of red on her cheeks reddened further, staining her jaw and her neck. “Yeah, well, you’re a coward,” she finally hissed, some of the fight coming back into her. “You’re a fucking coward.”
She spun, but as she was doing so, his hand snaked out, faster than either of them anticipated. HE didn’t know who was more shocked. Her, at the contact, or him for having done it. They both started at his hand, grease stained and calloused, strong and tough as iron on her dainty, alabaster wrist. It looked so out of place there, him touching her. He didn’t even deserve the honor, yet somehow, she saw something in him.
“Wait,” he ground out. “I… just…”
“Meet me.” The words were so very hard to hear. He didn’t have to strain though, because he could read her lips. “Tuesday night.” She didn’t even try and tell him where to go. She didn’t yell or scream or put up a fight. She wasn’t desperate either. Her eyes searched his and saw right down to the bottom of his soul. Somehow, impossibly, she just knew what was there.
“Carrie- I- I can’t.”
“You can. Tuesday night. Please, Sean. Just one more time. And then we’ll stop. I just need one more night…”
She wasn’t broken. She had enough spirit in her than he ever would. She wasn’t pleading with him. He knew then that though she was tiny, she had a will in her that he didn’t. She would fight for him. He thought he was the one that needed to keep her safe. He’d failed to account for the fact that perhaps even if he told her everything and she understood the risks, she’d still choose him.
“Alright.” He gave in.
The fire in her eyes didn’t change. She looked at him just as fiercely. He slowly unwrapped his fingers from her arm.
“Alright,” she whispered before she turned and left, just as suddenly as she’d appeared.
She knew he was going to try and skip out early. She’d come, anticipating him. She came prepared to fight for what she wanted. To be in his corner and not give up on him. Even if he’d made her doubt, for a few seconds, the validity of her feelings, with the cruelty of his words.
As he went back to gathering up his things, he didn’t know what to feel. He’d never really had someone in his corner before. Someone he could rely on and trust. For a crazy instant he wondered what it would be like to tell her the truth. Every single detail. He’d never told anyone. That was the thing. He knew they’d be safe as long as they knew nothing.
He knew he had to do it. Because he couldn’t let her go. He had to tell her and let her decide.
Chapter 11
The Last Time
Carrie
She’d never been one of those people who sweated a lot. Even when it was hot out, and it was always hot in Miami, she didn’t really get more than a glow on her skin.
As Carrie entered the park and spotted Sean already seated on what she’d come to think of as their bench, she was a little astounded to find beads of sweat dotting her hairline. She knew they were there because they kept rolling down her temples while she drove. There were beads of sweat at the base of her neckline. They trickled down her back every few minutes. Her palms were also sticky. She kept flexing her hands as she walked.
It wasn’t just the sweating that was the issue. She was a mess on the inside. She’d told Sean one more time. One more night. Just. One. More. She hadn’t expected him to agree. She knew she didn’t mean it. One. One more would never be enough, no matter how many one mores there were.
Her mind was always filled up with sea swept eyes and the heartbreaking look here both when they finally found the connection it seemed they’d both been searching for and when he tried to drive her away. The strings Sean had somehow managed to wrap around her heart tightened as she neared the bench.
She paused, hardly daring to sit down. Before she could, Sean stood. He was dressed like he always was, jeans, that leather jacket overtop a soft cotton t-shirt and those black boots. His hair was combed out and pulled back. It was his face that was different. Though it remained impassive, a mask in place, his eyes gave him away. He was there and he wanted to be there, but something held him back. It was more than fear. The rest of her insides clenched hard. Why does he want to drive me away when I can tell what he really wants is for me to stay?
“Not here,” Sean said abruptly, voice deep and gravelly. “I have somewhere else for us to go.”
“What?”
His eyes burned into hers and she sucked in a breath. “Do you trust me?”
“Just a few days ago you were trying to make it clear that I shouldn’t. Or at least, that you didn’t want me to.”
“But do you?”
“I don’t even know you…”
“Is that a yes or a no?”
All her emotions were so twisted up, sorting them out seemed nearly unthinkable. It was true, she barely knew him. It was also true that he’d tried to push her away and not nicely either. He’d showed up out of nowhere and could disappear just as easily. He was as mercurial as the wind.
He waited patiently, his face nearly a grimace as the mask slipped.
“Yes,” she finally whispered. She jumped as his hand came down to rest on her wrist. “Then come with me. I know we don’t have a lot of time.”
She didn’t resist as he led her back through the park and to his bike. She’d missed the second helmet hanging from the handles when she pulled up in her car. She’d seen the bike, but it hadn’t registered with her.
Sean held one out to her. She swallowed hard, but it did nothing to clear the lump clogged in her throat. She finally took it, hands shaking so badly it was a massive effort to get the thing fitted over her hair. She pushed the strands back and finally just shoved it on. She figured it fit well enough.
Sean got on the bike first. She waited as he backed it out of the spot. He waited after and it was clear she was supposed to get on. Her feet felt heavy, so heavy she could barely lift them. She was actually wearing jeans, by some miracle of foresight she hadn’t had, and ankle boots.
Carrie knew full well that she probably looked beyond silly. She swung a leg over the huge bike and sat herself down on the seat right behind Sean. There wa
sn’t much room left, since he wasn’t a small man. He shifted forward slightly and she leaned into him and they fit.
They fit so damn well that it hurt. She didn’t have much time to think about it before Sean started rolling the bike down the street. He started out slow at first, probably to let her gain her bearings and sped up after that. She wrapped her arms around Sean’s leather glad chest and hung on for dear life. Even though she was scared of the bike, the wind rushing all around her, the thick feeling of her head in the helmet, the foreignness of it all, her body still tingled at being pressed so close to Sean. He’d tried to push her away, but there she was, wrapped around him and hanging on for dear life.
Even driving his bike with her clinging to him, Sean was still perfection. He sat ramrod straight, navigated and controlled the heavy bike easily.
She didn’t ask where he was taking her. She’d said she trusted him and oddly enough, she did. It might have been misplaced, but it didn’t change the fact that it was true.
She inhaled deeply and even through the helmet she smelled the rich dark scent of leather and below that, the spice of Sean himself. Inhaling his scent brought back a rush of memory. Her lips tingled as the thought of the kiss they’d shared, the way she’d felt him, hard and throbbing against her leg, the way she’d pulsed in response. She recalled the dusky scent of desire, risking in the air between them.
By the time Sean pulled up at alit-up motel, a rundown looking place with only one other beat up car in the crumbling parking lot, Carrie ached. She throbbed in all the wrong spots. Her nipples chaffed against her clothes and she knew she was slippery and wet between her thighs. A heavy weight settled in the bottom of her stomach.
“I hope you haven’t brought me here to murder me.” She popped the helmet off, realizing her words were all jumbled up.
Sean still heard them. He actually offered a lopsided grin. “Why? Does it look like the kind of place people aren’t heard from again?”
“Yeah, it kind of does. It certainly looks like the place people don’t stay in. It seems like a place that…” she trailed off as she realized the full implication of what she’d been about to say.
“It seems like what?” Sean’s eyes remained trained on hers, even as he took her helmet from her and hung it on the bike’s handlebars beside his.
“Nothing,” she insisted, but she knew her face was stained scarlet.
“The kind of place people go to have one last time together?”
“Not that,” she rasped. “Unless money is being exchanged.”
“Should I take you somewhere nicer? Better?”
“No.” She shook her head. “No, this is fine.”
She realized then, as Sean settled his hand on the small of her back, that she was really going to do this. He’d really brought her to a motel. He was really leading her to a set of stairs that led to one of the rooms on the top floor. Which meant he already had a key for that room. Which meant he’d planned it.
And all she could think about, as he led her up those stairs, as his boots scraped and thumped up ahead of the dull echo of her much lighter tread, was that his hand on her back, strong and steady, was the one of the most amazing things she’d felt in all of her life.
Chapter 12
Absolutely The Last Time
Carrie
The door to their room creaked open. Sean let his hand fall away. She missed the solid, reassuring presence. He stepped away from her and entered the room first. He switched on the light and hesitated inside, as though he expected her to run back down the steps or maybe just to tell him it wasn’t what she wanted. That none of it was what she wanted. That one last time to her didn’t mean a quick fuck in a cheap hotel room.
But with him, that’s never what it would be. It didn’t matter where they were. It didn’t matter that it wasn’t entirely romantic or that the room was old, or that it didn’t cost much. Even if it was old, she realized it was clean. It looked like the motel had been built in the fifties and hadn’t been updated since then. The carpet was low pile, brown, and had mysterious darker spots here and there. She tried not to look at it. The bed itself was a queen with an ancient bedspread, but it was clean and unstained. The beat up desk in the room, the tiny chair in front of it, the lamp with the broken shade, the old TV that wasn’t a flat screen on a tiny little battered stand… none of that mattered. She didn’t even see it. She turned to Sean and he was all that mattered.
“It’s not nice. I’m sorry. I wanted to go… somewhere where we wouldn’t be noticed.”
“Well, this is a pretty good out of the way place then.” She kept tone as light as she could. She sat down on the edge of the bed and folded her hands between her legs.
“Carrie… I can still take you back.” Sean shut the door hard and put the two locks on it.
Her hands clenched her jeans hard. “No. I don’t want to go back. I… I…” What could she really say? It was obvious why he’d brought her. What did it say about her that she didn’t want to leave?
She froze when he crossed the room. He sat down on the bed beside her. She felt the dip of the mattress and she nearly slid into him, since he was so much heavier. She braced herself on the mattress, her hands flying to either side of her legs. She heard his shuddery exhale. When his eyes met hers the intimacy there, the hope, the heat, the pain, all of it broke her heart.
“Why did you really bring me here, Sean? Was it just to- to fuck me?”
Sean’s lids filtered shut over his glorious eyes and it was a long time before he opened them again. She regretted speaking. She shouldn’t have said anything at all. She stiffened, her back so straight that it ached. She wanted to lean closer to him, to take his heat into her arm and reassure herself that he was there. That he wasn’t going anywhere. For the next few hours he was hers.
She wanted to, so she did. She shifted slightly, so that their legs and arms were touching. She didn’t press herself into him like she wanted to, but even that slight touch, the gentle pressure, was enough to kick her heart into a furious, racing overdrive. Desire settled into her stomach, hard and heavy and the throbbing between her legs grew more intense.
“What you are doing, Carrie?” Sean breathed. His voice was raspy and thick, like his tongue refused to work. She understood that all too well.
She wanted to stop, but she couldn’t make her body obey. She turned, reached up and slowly set a trembling hand on Sean’s cheek. It was warm, so very warm. She traced the outline of his sharp cheekbone before she let her hand fall lower, to the crisp hairs of his beard. After that she moved her index finger to gently slide along the curve of his bottom lip.
He stiffened under her touch, but she wasn’t fooled. She could tell from the deep pools of his eyes, just what her touch did to him. She saw the desire she felt reflected there in those strange green depths. Her entire body was hyper-aware. Every single touch, innocent and brief and sweet, was echoed as a throbbing, pounding, ache in her own body.
Carrie finally let her hand fall away, but Sean reached out, quicker than she thought possible. He threaded his fingers through hers.
“Don’t stop.” It was a command, the permission she’d been waiting for.
I shouldn’t be here. I shouldn’t do this. If I give myself to him than he’s going to have that part of me that I can never have back. She was so damn tired of giving. Always giving parts of herself away until it felt like there was nothing left to give. She’d felt that way before Sean. And then she’d met him and she felt filled up, like all those parts of her that were gone were suddenly whole and she was complete again. It hurt even more, to know ahead of time, that she was going to be ripped into shreds. Is this really the last time? Is one more time ever just one more?
She didn’t know and that was the most painful part.
She wished she could have stopped herself from shifting away from Sean on that bed. From shifting away so that she could wrap her arms around his neck and pull herself in against him. She couldn’t stop hers
elf from moving into his lap. She braced herself on the bed, her knees astride his much thicker ones. Her hands moved, hands that were her hands but were not her hands at all, since she couldn’t control them, to the zipper of his leather jacket.
Even though she felt like weeping, she peeled the jacket away from Sean’s powerful shoulders. He helped her, sliding it down his arms. Because she needed to feel his skin beneath her palms, needed it more than she needed her own breath, she trailed her hands over the striated muscle of his arms. She was enthralled by the crisp hairs there, the smoothness of his skin, how soft he was and velvety over all that hard muscle. He was so different from her, so very raw and huge and male.
A shudder ripped up her spine. Her hands fell to his waist and she peeled his t-shirt up, up over his chiseled abs, his narrow waist, his broad chest and the expanse of his shoulders. He raised his hands up and she let the thin fabric fall from her fingers.
She took a moment to look at him, to study the glory of his body. Her eyes drank in the bronzed skin, the scrawling dark ink that ebbed and flowered over his chest and arms, the crisp hairs that dusted his pecs and circled his naval, the hard rigid muscle, the tan nipples. Every single line and plane was magnificent, like he’d been carved and his creator, the artist who designed him, breathed life into him right at the end. His body was the culmination of every single thought she’d had over the past few weeks, every single tortured moment she lay awake in her bed, imagining what he’d look like.
“I want to touch you,” she rasped. Is that really me? Is that really my voice? She felt a little like she was going to go crazy if he said no.
“Then do it.” Sean closed his eyes. His voice was low and thick. “Do it. Touch me.”
Carrie slid a shaking index finger over the chiseled muscle of his abdomen. She traced the ridges and planes before circling her hand upward, blazing a line of passion that ignited the fire in them both. When she leaned forward, she didn’t think about what she was doing. She just did it. Her mouth captured one of his nipples. She took him between her lips before she suckled him. She tasted him with her tongue, the rawness of him, the musk of his skin. Lord, it made her crazy.
Hard and Dirty: Bad Boy MC Romance Page 6
