Off Limits Collection

by Jane Anthony

  The throbbing pulse between my legs beats as his mouth glides up my throat. My panties are past damp. He hasn’t even touched me, yet I’m so wet my thighs are sticky. It only takes being near him for my body to respond this way, but his lips on my skin and his masculine scent this close up adds a slick layer of want on top of my already raging case of need.

  Taking his hand in mine, I slip it between my thighs. “Do you feel what you do to me?”

  His thumb moves in a slow circle over the flimsy piece of soaking cotton making me gasp. “I feel it,” he whispers against my skin, increasing the pressure with his hand; tight little circles that concentrate on the tiny nub beneath the fabric of my underwear.

  The rock-solid ridge in his jeans jumps at the touch of my hand, and a groan vibrates against my neck. When his lips find mine, he uses his body to lower me back to the bed. His tongue plunges into my mouth, teasing mine with its delightful twirl. A series of slow, sensual caresses that only serves to reignite my already flaming desire.

  Catching the light from the living room, his gray eyes sparkle in the dark. He pushes my hair back, dropping kisses to my forehead, cheeks, and nose before sitting up. "Good night, cowgirl."

  I squeeze his forearm as he tries to get up. "Will you stay until I fall asleep?"

  Dang, Case. Desperate much?

  "Do you want me to?" I nod. It's a loaded statement. I kind of want him to stay forever. "All right. Scooch over."

  The lower half of his face is all I can see from the corner of my eye as he settles in, allowing me to cuddle into his shoulder. “You ever think about going back to Texas?”

  “Sometimes.” His grip tightens. “I never really felt at home here, you know? Then again, I don’t know if I really fit in down there, either.”

  His hand comes up, sweeping the hair off my temple and circles around my ear. The lightness of his rugged touch sends a shiver across my skin. “You fit perfect right here.”

  With the room so dark, everything seems magnified. His heartbeat drums a gentle rhythm against my cheek, his breath, so deep and calm, washes over me, comforting me in a way I can’t remember ever feeling. The rich sound of his voice soothes my weary soul. Together, all the sounds that make up AJ Morello lull me into a cozy cocoon of warmth I wish could last forever.

  Chapter Eleven

  AJ

  "AJ!" My eyes drift open, still glazed over from the nightmare attacking my subconscious. "Are you okay? You're screamin’ in your sleep."

  Casey's eyes are as crisp and clear as the afternoon sky outside her bedroom window. Just staring into them fills me with an instant sense of calm. "Yeah. Bad dream."

  The nightmares have started up again, as fresh and vibrant as ever. Every time I close my eyes, all I see is wreckage. The taunting sounds of sirens and screams fill my ears. I hear Jillian crying my name, but I can't find her. My arms and legs are concrete. No matter how many times I try to move, I’m stuck.

  Concern crosses Casey's beautiful face, a look I inadvertently put there. Punishment for mistakes I’ve made and can't undo. I finger the scar in my hairline. The puckered flesh is a visual reminder of the damage still lingering inside.

  Casey's fingertips follow mine, tracing the Frankenstein mark on my forehead, proof of how broken I once was. "Tell me about this."

  I pull a Marlboro Red from the box and hold it up between my fingers. “You mind?”

  “Nah. Go ahead.”

  Lighting my cig, I take a long drag, holding the sweet smoke in my lungs before letting it out. Casey rests on my shoulder, extending two fingers and taking the cigarette from my hand. I watch the orange glow on the cherry as she places it to her lips and takes a hit before handing it back. She exhales slowly, letting the smoke billow out of her gorgeous mouth.

  “I was in a car wreck,” I say, flicking my ashes into a half-empty Solo cup on the table.

  “A bad one?”

  "Bad enough. But the accident isn't the worst part. It's what happened before it that haunts me." I pause to take a drag on my cigarette, summoning the memory that won't leave me alone.

  “I found my sister in bed with my best friend. Shit got ugly.” I slip the cigarette between my lips and pull before handing it back to Casey a second time. “I wasn’t too keen on the idea of them together. I guess I wasn’t too keen on the idea of anyone touching my little sister.”

  “Overprotective brother syndrome.” Smoke curls around Casey’s lips when she talks.

  “Yeah, I guess. Some words were said, some punches were thrown. I got in my car, just to blow off some steam, ya know? Next thing I know, I’m in the hospital hooked up to all kinds of machines and shit. Jillian’s crying at my bedside. I lost two weeks of my life asleep.”

  The butt sizzles as it hits the water in the cup, and I continue. “My mother’s dying wish was for me to watch out for my sister, and I accepted the task so literally that I almost killed myself in the process. I’ll never forgive myself for what I put Jillian through.”

  Emotion stings my eyes as I remember how small and meek Jill looked in the chair next to me. She didn’t leave my side. Even in the coma, I was aware of what was going on around me. They aren’t real memories, though. More like faded dream sequences that come and go in waves. It was hard to tell the difference between fantasy and reality. I’d hear a voice and imagine it elsewhere. I’d hear music and think I was at a concert. It all seemed so real. The power of the brain is an amazing thing, but the only constant in every dream I had was Jillian.

  My insides shriek with remorse, but my exterior remains stoic as usual. I don’t cry. Even when my mother died, not one tear fell from my eyes. My father sobbed, the emptiness he felt losing his soul mate filling him to the point of agony; Jillian wailed like a dying animal, but my eyes were dry as a bone through the entire service and beyond. I’m the strength when everyone around me falls apart. It’s my cross to bear.

  "But it was an accident. You didn't do it on purpose."

  I detach from her embrace and climb out of bed. My blood feels stagnant lying in this spot, and I need to move to get it pumping again. Casey just sits, watching me stalk the room as memories threaten to drown me. "I wished for a way out, Case. I was a young guy saddled with more responsibility than I was ready for. I hated my life, and I resented my parents for dying and forcing me to finish what they created. I was twenty years old, and every dream I ever had was burned to ash along with my father."

  "What would you be doin’ if things were different?" Petite fingers close around my wrist, stopping my pacing.

  "Honestly?" A sad smile grows on my face as I sit back on the bed next to her. "I'd be doing exactly what I'm doing now. Fixing cars is what I know. I'm good at it. My dad built this shop with the intentions of passing it down. I never would have left it. I just didn’t realize that until it was too late."

  I pull her against my chest, not wanting her to see the hairline cracks in my façade. "I was only starting to become a man. I still had so much to learn from him, but he left me too soon."

  "What was he like?"

  Explaining Anthony Morello Senior is like trying to smell the color nine. Those of us who had the honor of knowing him knew what an amazing person he was. He wasn’t just some dumb mechanic. He was so much more than that. “He was a goofball, a romantic, a natural leader, musical genius, and a born family man. He had funny nicknames for everyone; his smile never faltered.”

  My fingers run through Casey’s hair, trying to control the trembling that’s taken them over. “He taught me about music and carburetors, and a basic knowledge of business that carries me through. Family is number one. He reminded me of that fact repeatedly until the very end. You never turn your back on your loved ones. No matter what.”

  “He sounds wonderful. I’m sorry you lost him.”

  Still losing my hands in her hair, I nod because the lump in my throat is too large to get around. My father was more important to me than anyone was. The morning I found him in his bed was the mome
nt my life turned to shit. It ruined me, and I can never get that image out of my head no matter how hard I try.

  Jillian had already gone off to the shop that morning, but I was dragging my ass, too tired from staying up late trying to impress some random chick with my musical prowess. Getting laid and playing music were all I cared to do. Fixing cars seemed beneath me. I was born for better things than that. I was sure of it.

  I was dressed and ready to head down when I noticed my father’s bedroom door was closed. It was after nine o’clock. The old man was never late for work. The pounding of my heart drowned out the creaking of the ancient floorboards as I walked to his room. I knocked at first, calling for him and praying he’d answer. But he didn’t.

  “Dad?” I said again, turning the knob with shaking hands. A tense knot formed in my stomach; my palms were clammy, but my mind was still in denial. It didn’t want to admit to what my body already knew. Something wasn’t right.

  He was in his bed, lying on his back. The grayish blue hue of his skin stood out against all the white in the room. I ran to his bed, but it was too late. He was stiff and so cold; I felt like my fingers would freeze just from touching him.

  Stumbling back, I searched my pockets for my phone to call 911. I didn’t know what else to do. When the operator came on the line, I couldn’t say the words out loud. I didn’t want them in the atmosphere; I didn’t want to believe it. The only thing I could think about was my sister. How the fuck was I going to explain this to Jillian?

  A second death.

  Another lost parent.

  The end of life as we knew it.

  I settle back in bed taking Casey beneath me. Her slender body molds against mine the moment our lips touch. Her legs hook around my waist, encasing me in warmth. It’s so intimate. Just holding her in my arms, surrounded by her sweet scent, is enough to make me happy.

  For the first time in my life, my brain isn’t screaming at me. It’s not telling me I’m the family fuck up, and it’s not shouting at me to do something worthwhile with my life. The degrading voices have stopped, leaving me with nothing but peaceful quiet and a sense of contentment I’ve never felt before. It’s because of her. She’s the missing piece. The one I’ve needed all along.

  Chapter Twelve

  CASEY

  AJ pushes the stick shift as he puts the massive truck in gear. This time, instead of leaving his hand on the knob, he rests it on my knee. When I grin, he responds with a flirty little squeeze. As comfortable as the touch of his hand is, it doesn't stop the bout of nervousness threatening to eat me alive. Meeting his sister is a big deal.

  Using one hand, he cuts the wheel and swings into the parking lot of the bright yellow building where he works. Hidden behind it, a blue-gray house sits among the trees. A garden of pink and red pansies flanks the stone walkway leading up to the tall colonial with black shutters and a black front door. A lovely little dollhouse sitting alone back here in the middle of the woods, private and secluded from the busy street.

  “Your sister lives behind the shop?”

  “Yeah.”

  AJ grins, and my eyes focus on the crooked tooth that can only be seen when his smile is this wide. It’s so insignificant, but something about it drives me nuts. That tiny bit of imperfection on an otherwise perfect specimen that reminds me that he’s a real person. Reality trumps fantasy, always.

  “This was my parents’ house. We grew up here.”

  He jumps down from the truck and comes around to my side then opens the door for me. I’m fully capable of climbing down myself, but he’s always there to help me. Taking my hand or guiding my waist. Little things like that make it hard not to fall for him.

  “What’s up, dick? What are you knocking for? Just come in.”

  The guy in the doorway must be the brother-in-law. He’s tall, light, and has the greenest eyes I’ve ever seen on a human being, but the tattoos are a bit much. So much ink covers each arm it takes away from the size of them. I’ve never understood why someone would go through all that pain just for something that only fades over time. There are so many places to find art. Permanently embedding it into your skin seems like an unnecessary practice. AJ’s body, what I’ve seen of it, is smooth and flawless. Just the way I like it.

  “I don’t want to walk in on you salivating all over my sister again, ass!” AJ threads his fingers with mine as we walk into the foyer together. “Jameson, this is Casey.”

  A screech comes from deep within the bowels of the house. From upstairs, a squeaky voice bellows for her husband over the loud shriek of rock music. “Welcome to the nut house, Casey,” Jameson says turning toward the stairs, before addressing AJ again. “Zakk’s in the kitchen. You’d think the kid hasn’t eaten in days. Let me see what Jill wants.”

  “My nephew is like a bear. Come between him and his meal and he’ll bite your damn arm off.”

  Zakk sits in his highchair, trying like hell to get a Cheerio into his mouth but failing miserably. His lips pinch together in a pout, but his face lights up the minute he sees AJ. He pumps his little fists in the air, reaching toward him as AJ picks up the O-shaped cereal and lifts it to Zakk’s open mouth. “Miss Casey, meet Zakk Anthony Tate.”

  Oversized green eyes blink at me as Zakk chucks me a toothless grin. They are the only evidence that ties him to Jameson. The thick black hair, smooth olive skin, and plump little lips are all too familiar. Zakk is a dead ringer for AJ.

  As I watch him feed Cheerios one by one to the chubby version of himself, I’m so overloaded with cuteness that my ovaries quiver. I always thought nothing was sexier than a blue-collar guy, but I was wrong. Watching that same rough, blue-collar man fawning over a baby? That’s a box-clencher.

  “Hey, little guy,” I croon, squatting down to his level and holding the edge of the high chair for support. “You’re a little heartbreaker, ain’t ya?”

  “He’s handsome like his uncle,” AJ says with a sly grin.

  Zakk smacks the tray again, making the Cheerios jump. He looks down at them in awe as if they are magic, having no idea that he was the one who made it happen in the first place.

  “That he is.” I tap the tray with my fingernail. Zakk watches then repeats the action, making the tiny O’s jump again. “Smart too.”

  “Yeah, he’s a keeper.”

  Zakk opens his mouth, shaking his head back and forth trying to get the Cheerio resting atop AJ’s fingertip. A trickle of drool dribbles down his chin. AJ catches it with his hand, wipes it on his pants, and then goes about his business shoveling more food into the baby’s waiting mouth. It’s so natural. As if he's done this a hundred times and can do it in his sleep. The adoration reflected in AJ's eyes when he looks at his nephew is almost that of a parent rather than an uncle. He and Zakk have something special.

  Footsteps shuffle in the hall. The tiniest, most badass looking woman I’ve ever seen comes through the doorway. A studded belt cinches her tiny waist, and a cutoff tee says Megadeth across her large chest. Jameson’s outfit is freakishly similar. “S’up, bro?” She wraps her arms around AJ’s waist and presses her cheek to his chest.

  "S’up, sis?" AJ replies, returning her embrace with a kiss on her head. "Casey, this is my sister, Jillian."

  “Hi, Casey! So glad you could come!” The faint smell of oranges lifts off her hair when she greets me with a less affectionate hug.

  "It’s great to finally meet you! I’ve heard so much about you.”

  “Funny. I’ve heard very little about you.” She wears a sarcastic smirk as her gaze falls on AJ.

  AJ rolls his eyes. “You’re so dramatic.” He pulls two beers from the fridge and opens mine before handing it to me.

  “Thanks for havin’ me, y’all. Smells delicious in here."

  "Compliment my sister's food and she'll love you forever."

  "If she puts up with your shit, I love her already." Jill opens the oven door a crack to peek in then goes about stirring a pot of potatoes as Jameson starts laying out plates on
the table.

  "Let me help with that." I take the silverware from his hand and make quick work of setting it all out.

  "So, Casey. You're from the South," Jillian says with a matter-of-fact tone.

  "No, ma’am. I’m from Texas."

  Three sets of eyes turn to look at me as if I’ve lost my mind. Texas is a whole world of its own. So much so, that it actually wanted to secede from the United States and become its own damn country. To say Texans are proud folk is an understatement. “Texas isn’t Southern. Texas is Texas.”

  "What the hell are you doing in New Jersey?" She wrinkles her nose when she says the state as if it feels funny rolling off her tongue. She’s so dang cute, I kind of want to squeeze her. I’m not a big woman, maybe five-foot-five, but AJ’s sister is so little, I could put her in my pocket. With her deep brown cow eyes and fair skin, I never would have guessed she and AJ were related. Except for the smile—they both have the same wide, infectious grin that takes up half their face.

  I feel AJ's eyes on me and wonder what I should say. Lying to AJ's family isn't the best way to start on the right foot, but I don't want to get into that mess about Davis and Austin either. Now is not the time to be letting out the skeletons I’ve kept well hidden in my closet. "My boyfriend at the time came for work. I followed."

  "Ah, yes. What is it about men that makes us willing to drop everything for them?" Jillian turns to face me, but her gaze lands elsewhere. The fire in her eyes burns fierce and bright. I follow it and see she's looking at Jameson.

  "For you, it was greasy hands and a cool car. I didn’t even have to try," he says with a lopsided grin.

  "What can I say? I like them kind of dirty." Jillian shrugs.

  "Aw, heck yeah. I'm so down with that," I drawl, giggling along with Jillian.

  "Two peas in a friggin' pod over here," AJ mumbles with a roll of his eyes.