Whiskey Sharp--Jagged

by Lauren Dane

  That made her snicker. Her aunt Robbie often joked that she and the Dolan sisters were from the black sheep line of the family as most of them were unfortunately more like her dad.

  After they cleaned the kitchen up and had been dismissed to take the leftovers home, he produced the data card the scene with her father was on and they headed to her room to watch. She didn’t want to talk to Maybe about it until she’d seen it for herself.

  He put a hand on her arm as they settled in with her laptop to look. “I’m telling you before we start that you are not responsible for anything he says or does.”

  Lovely. This was going to be bad.

  Something borne out as they watched and she finally closed her laptop at the end.

  It was impossible not to feel responsible for what he’d said and done. She felt sick that her dad had brought all that negativity and hate into the bakery.

  “I can see you’re about to apologize and I have to tell you up front if you do I’m going to get pissed off. He’s a piece of shit and that is not your fault,” Vic told her.

  He totally fascinated her. Even when he was mad.

  “I’m horrified. I’m sorry, even if you don’t want me to feel guilty how can I not? He was so hateful. He brought that to you. To your family. Because of me.” Embarrassment rode her hard. She cared so much about Irena and Pavel; that her father came into their bakery and said the things he had—threatened the things he had—made her wish the ground could swallow her up.

  She also couldn’t deny how it made her feel to see both Irena and Vic defend her, to watch the anger on Vic’s face as her father had said all the ugly things he had. It was an odd feeling to have someone care about her like that. Be so willing to go to the wall for her. For her heart. And her freedom.

  Yeah, Irena had been right. They knew her.

  “I’ll have to call our lawyer in the morning. Let her know what’s going on.” She would have anyway as she had an evaluation with her therapist for the conservatorship case first thing. “I can’t believe you didn’t tell him you were all citizens. He’s going to research you. Dig into your lives to make trouble.”

  She stood so she could pace a little.

  “I didn’t tell him because it’s none of his fucking business. And let him dig. He’s got nothing to find.” His voice stayed so rational and calm. It should have annoyed her but it really actually was comforting.

  “I’m glad you’re so calm when someone like him is out to hurt you. Because of me.”

  “We’re not doing this, Rachel. I know you. You’re thinking maybe you should back off so we’re out of the line of fire. Which is bullshit and I’m not going to allow it.” Vic had his adorably stubborn face on.

  “He’s trouble, Vic.” It wasn’t as if she wanted him to walk away. But it was for the best. At least until all the court stuff with her parents was dealt with.

  He waved a hand, just like his mother. Totally unconcerned. “He’s a bully. You can’t give in to a bully or they get worse. I’m not giving him a single bit of space on this. He’s out of line. No one is going to threaten me and mine like that. Especially a paper tiger like him.”

  “Do you know how I’d feel if he managed to hurt you all in some way? In any way?” she asked, trying—and failing—to hide the emotion in the words.

  He shot to his feet so fast it surprised her. That he’d grabbed her upper arms and it hadn’t set off any of her internal alarms also surprised her. But she supposed her heart knew he’d never harm her.

  “You think I would just walk away? Let you handle all the bad stuff and then waltz back when things cool off? Is that the quality of man you think you have in me?” His voice held a thread of anger but also she’d offended him and that’s what caught her up.

  She didn’t want to hurt him like that. Even to push him away. She knew it was weak, but she couldn’t help it.

  “You should,” she muttered. “Find a nice Russian gal who can cook and doesn’t come with a crazy family.”

  “There is no such thing as a Russian who doesn’t come with a crazy family. Even if I wanted such a thing. Which I do most assuredly not. I like the spunky American who spent hours with my mother learning how to make one of my favorite meals.”

  She tried very hard to retain her stoic expression but it was nearly impossible because he was sweet. And so bossy he wasn’t going anywhere. Even when he should.

  “I’m not a good choice,” she said at last.

  “Fuck off with you trying to tell me what my good choices are.”

  That made her laugh even though he frowned her way.

  He hadn’t ever been like this with her before. Pushy. Annoyed enough with her to actually show it without fear she would reject him or run the other way. Which she should. But she hadn’t yet, despite knowing it was best.

  Maybe it wasn’t best. She’d gotten attached and clearly he was and not afraid to show it. Which pleased her and freaked her out too. She’d gotten used to him and everyone who came with him.

  “I’m going to have to speak with Maybe about this,” she said at last.

  He harrumphed to let her know he was changing the subject but knew her game. “I told Alexsei some. Let’s both go. That way she knows we’re all in this together. Then we need to run by my house for a few minutes.”

  He seemed to underline the word together with his tone and some tense thing deep inside her gut seemed to unfurl a little.

  “All right, let’s go do this already.” Rachel took his hand as they went to go speak to Maybe.

  * * *

  THREE STEPS PAST his front door after they’d run to his place to pick up something and she found herself backed against the low table behind his sofa. A knickknack of some sort toppled onto the floor with a clatter but it didn’t slow him down.

  He murmured against her skin as he pulled her sweater up and off, kissing over the hollow of her throat and over her breastbone. She sucked at learning new languages, but it sounded sexy as hell, even if he was just ordering pizza or something.

  His hands were urgent and a little rough. He so rarely was that with her. Nearly always controlled. His skin was hot, wrenching a gasp from her at the sensation when he got rid of his shirt and slid, skin to skin against her.

  She raked her nails down his back, a dark thrill tripping through her at his snarl in response.

  When he dropped to his knees as he pulled her jeans, socks and panties off, she tried not to gasp. Or beg. Or cry.

  In the quiet dim of the house, a shaft of light from the porch shone off his back, gleaming off his skin. Avarice at the sight. She wanted to mark his skin. Not just with her nails and teeth, but with ink.

  Everything about him made her greedy.

  “Widen your stance and lean back on the table,” he urged, his voice rough with need.

  Weak-kneed, she willingly obliged and he rewarded her with slow kisses and drags of his tongue from her ankle up her calf, pausing at the back of her knee and finding that place that never failed to send a shiver through her.

  She’d dug her fingers into his hair, freeing it as she held on. He spread her open and licked. Thank god she had something to lean on or she’d have fallen over at how good it felt.

  And that was before he slid first one and then another finger into her, easing her open. Readying her for his cock. She spasmed around him as he stretched, twisting his wrist until his fingertips brushed that sweet spot inside that sent a bolt of intense sensation through her.

  An involuntary sound, a deep groan of desire, erupted from her chest.

  He hummed his satisfaction over that. “So wet. Someone likes that, hmm?”

  Uh yeah. What woman wouldn’t like that?

  He licked and kissed her into a state of bonelessness. Stroking his fingertip over that spot inside her in time with his tongue as she was pinned to the table supporti
ng her weight.

  Orgasm unfurled and spiraled through her as she cried his name.

  One hand at her hip to keep her steady, he got to his feet and then turned her, bracing her hands. The click-click-click of his zipper sliding down seemed to climb up her spine.

  The crinkle of a condom wrapper being opened sounded and there was a momentary loss of his heat as he stepped back to roll it on. She bit her lip to keep from begging him to hurry.

  He petted down her back a moment, murmuring that she was beautiful. She felt beautiful.

  Supremely sexy. Feminine.

  The breath whooshed from her as he began to push his way in, the fat head of his cock sliding against her slick flesh.

  Rachel closed her eyes and gave over to all he made her feel.

  So full. Body and heart. He filled her up and saw her without any guise. Saw all of her, darkness and all and he not only tolerated it, he seemed to celebrate it. Accept it as just as beautiful as her face.

  She thrust back against him to meet his inward progress and grinned at the sound he made. Her debonair, suave gentleman baker’s normally impressive ease slipped a little.

  Rachel made him do that. Power flared, thrilling her to her toes. Sure it was hot that he desired her, found her sexually attractive. Beautiful. But it was another thing entirely that she could draw something from him she was certain he didn’t give often or easy.

  He kissed her shoulder and then bit, making her writhe.

  “So strong,” he said in her ear before he licked it. “Beautiful. Tight,” he said, voice strained.

  It was his own fault. He did something to her when he bit her like that. Grabbed her with claws and dragged her toward another climax.

  He palmed her nipples before tugging slightly. Freeing one hand, he slid it down to her clit where she nearly came at that first touch.

  “Again,” he said before brushing his fingertips over her clit in slow circles. Restless, she gripped the table’s edge tighter, pushing back again harder, demanding more.

  He gave it to her. Like she’d known he would. Sent her hard and fast over the edge, reducing her to nearly weeping at how fucking good it felt with him deep within her body.

  He muttered a curse and followed, his fingertips digging into the muscle at her hip.

  While the sweat on her skin was cooling, he pulled out, stepped away to deal with the condom and was back by the time she got her panties and jeans back on.

  But she’d always feel naked with him.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  “MY FRIEND SAID we could use all his backcountry skiing stuff,” Vic told her as he unlocked the front door to the borrowed condo. “There are trails for hiking just beyond.” He pointed. He loved a good backcountry hike, especially in the snow.

  She didn’t respond, but he figured it was that their hands were full as they unloaded their things.

  So he brought it up again several minutes later once they’d finished up.

  Not quite looking him in the eyes—a huge red flag when it came to her—she said, “I love a good backcountry hike but only when there’s no snow. And I don’t cross-country ski anymore. But I’m perfectly capable of hitting the slopes while you go out. I won’t be offended or anything.”

  It was her tone that had him paying close attention. He took her hand and pulled her close, down into his lap on the big overstuffed couch.

  “Tell me,” he urged gently.

  Rachel paused for a time and then finally spoke. “That’s how I got... Where I was when Price held me. I can downhill ski. I can snowboard. But I can’t seem to find the pleasure in being deep in a forest when there’s so much snow. It slows you down. You can be tracked by someone else. It makes you slow.” She shivered and he fought the urge to bundle her up and take her away from there and anything that made her feel that way.

  “Will you tell me these things up front from now on?” He hated the idea that she might have felt pressured to do something that took her back to that terrible time.

  She winced. “I’m sorry.”

  Seeing her flinch pissed him off. Not at her, but at the situation. He wanted her to know without even asking that he wasn’t mad at her. Nor did he see those things she did to keep her peace of mind as silly or outrageous in any way.

  It was the opposite. Seeing how she’d rebuilt herself in the wake of such a terrible tragedy only made him respect her more.

  He took a breath and cupped her cheek. “I’m going to do my best not to ever hurt you. I know these are words and eventually I’ll show you in deeds. I like going places and doing things with you so if I know some of the big things I’ll feel more comfortable. I don’t want to plan a trip and have it be really uncomfortable for either of us. And. I want to remind you that I don’t want your apologies for this sort of stuff. There’s nothing to be sorry about.”

  She nodded. “It took me a year or so after getting out of the hospital before I could get out in nature any more than a big park. Slowly I was able to hike short trails at popular times of the day so there’d be other people around. I don’t hike alone anymore and I hate that. I’ve tried to do it, you know, make myself so I can just get over it.”

  “How’d that work out for you?” He made sure she heard the sarcasm in his voice.

  She blushed. “Sometimes it does work. With some stuff.”

  “That’s a lot of words for nothing specific.”

  “This is what I get for not dating only dumb guys,” she mumbled, startling him into a laugh.

  “You don’t have to tell me. It just sounded like you had a story there.” And he wanted it. Craved these confidences because he knew they were built on a foundation of trust. Intimacy of the deepest sort.

  She took a deep breath and said, “I considered living in a high-rise, high-security building with a doorman and all that stuff when we moved out here. Maybe was okay with that as a choice but asked if we could look at houses as well. She likes to work in the yard, you know? We looked at both houses and condos. All nice. And then we looked at our house now. And I had this sense, standing on the front porch, that I had this choice to make about how I’d go about my day-to-day life. I knew Maybe would be happier in a house. I knew we’d be better roommates with more space to share. I also knew that if I chose the apartment, I’d be accepting a level of security that would hinder the future I wanted.”

  She was quiet awhile and he let her be.

  “So we chose the house. I had to talk myself down from bars on the windows. But I have a state-of-the-art security system. It took me about six months before I felt truly relaxed here. I still have trouble sleeping, especially if anything sets off the motion lights in the side and backyard. So what I originally meant was sometimes I push past the fear and make a choice—one that might even freak me out—and it’s the right choice.”

  He kissed her.

  “And sometimes, like with backcountry skiing, I just can’t do it. It’s too much. It takes me back in such a way that I can’t do anything. I can’t think clearly.”

  “You have limits and you respect them. There’s not a damned thing wrong with that. I want to respect them too. So just mention something up front if you know, or if you don’t and it just comes up. There are things I can’t do since Danil died either.”

  “I hate being weak.”

  He snorted. “Only a strong person ever says that.”

  It was her turn to snort.

  “Let’s hit the slopes,” she suggested. “We’re here and it’s still daylight. I haven’t skied here yet.”

  He heaved them both to their feet, still holding her tight so he could kiss her in earnest. Slow and careful because he loved every part of her.

  She put her forehead to his chest, tucking just under his chin for long moments afterward.

  “First mulled wine is on me,” Rachel told him softly.

>   “Deal.”

  She tensed slightly and then relaxed before speaking again. “Before we go I need to do a walk of the outside of the condo. Just to get a basic feel for it.”

  He should have thought of that up front. Given the security of her house and the story she’d just told him about choosing the house instead of the high-rise condo, of course she’d want to be sure this place was safe.

  “Sure.” He fought to remain nonchalant. He knew that’s what she needed so he shoved his own desire to protect and cosset and gave her space. “Need my help?”

  “No. Oh, and since I’m being honest and all. I was wondering. At your house there are a few little things. A window lock, a back door, some other stuff.”

  “Things I can fix to make my house safer? Induce you to come over more often?” he asked, keeping his tone light.

  “Yes.”

  “Show me what, or give me a good description and it’s done. Not a hard thing to handle. Especially if it means you’re there more often. I like it when I don’t always have to share you with other people.”

  “Okay,” she said, scrambling from his lap to grab one of the bags she’d brought along before heading outside.

  He changed into ski clothes but would wait to choose which boots until she said which she wanted to do. Vic’s father and his uncle would often take them out on hikes when they were growing up. He’d always loved being outside. That she loved it as much as he did was pretty awesome.

  He looked forward to having many more days with her on the slopes.

  * * *

  RACHEL PUT UP her external alarms and then braced a window with the wooden dowel she found in a nearby closet. Each step she took gave her control, settled her sense of order and safety. She’d sleep well that night next to Vic.

  When she returned to the living room after changing it was to find him standing at the big windows looking out over the snow covered trees like a spread in Hot Russian Dude Monthly magazine.

  “I’m pretty sure you’re why lumbersexual is an actual thing.”