by B. Cranford
“Sorry. Jade, what happened tonight?” He turned his attention to her briefly, before looking back at the dark road, but not before she saw something soften in his gaze.
“Typical Saturday night assholes, thinking that a short skirt and high heels means I want it even if I say no.” She shook her head in disgust. It wasn't like she couldn't hold her own—she could, and did, on a far-too-regular basis, but there were women who didn't or couldn't. And the fucking bastards, like the one who'd tried to pin her to the brick wall outside the club, took advantage of that inability and just kept on assuming it was their right.
“If someone touched you, I swear to fucking God I'm turning around and going back there.” His hands on the leather-wrapped steering wheel clenched until his knuckles were white and his forearms bunched where they peeked out of his rolled-up business shirt.
“Calm down, Neanderthal Man, I took care of it.” She smiled to herself as she briefly raised her left foot. “Why do you think I wear shoes with a pointy toe? They do a lot of damage.”
Declan huffed out a laugh as his hands loosened and his forearms relaxed. “Smart girl.”
Jade didn't want to feel pride at the compliment, especially the condescending use of girl instead of woman, but she couldn't help it. She was proud of herself and her ability to take care of her body.
She would not be a victim.
“Anyway, I stumbled when I was walking to the main road to find a cab, and that's when you showed up. So, you see, I was fine. No white knight needed,” she added, cocking one eyebrow.
Not that she wasn't grateful. She just didn't want him to get ideas.
“I thought I was a Neanderthal, not a knight.” He took another quick look over at her, smiling, before facing forward once again. The road from Madison became darker the farther away they got, and she was relieved he wasn't speeding, texting, not paying attention or otherwise showing off.
“You're both. Depends on the situation.” Fidgeting, she re-crossed her legs. Which was purely for comfort, and not an attempt to ease the ache that had formed between her thighs at the first sound of his deep voice.
“I'm glad you're okay,” Declan spoke softly, but she heard the truth in his words. “But you know, if you're ever not . . .”
He trailed off, she suspected, because he knew she wasn't the type to accept help, but that didn't mean she didn't appreciate it. “I know. Thank you.” Her voice was equally soft, and the mood in the car shifted.
The almost angry tension changed to a wavering, shimmering, damn near visible sexual tension.
It was always like that with them.
Unfortunately.
Declan cleared his throat and began tapping his fingers on the steering wheel. He looked like he was searching for a safe topic of conversation, which was wise, given the fact she was seconds away from doing something stupid.
Like inviting herself back to his place instead of going to Brighton’s. They say a habit forms after the third time of doing something, and since they’d only been together that one time . . .
Surely once more wouldn’t hurt?
“How come you're going to Bright’s place, anyway?” Jade did a double-take at his question, considering she'd just been thinking about forgoing Brighton’s adorable home and her pet-sitting duties in favor of sitting somewhere else.
On his cock, her mind helpfully supplied, and maybe on his face.
“They're leaving early tomorrow and I'm looking after Storm and Lowe this week. My stuff’s already there,” she responded, grateful that her voice held steady despite the wayward thoughts currently circling through her brain. Jade had agreed to watch Brighton and Sebastian’s rescue cat and dog while they took a two-week trip around the country, stopping for signings at bookstores all over to celebrate the release of Brighton’s latest Patrick the Panda book. It was a good thing she had too, because if she were headed to her own home . . . well, she didn’t think she’d make it there without a detour into Declan’s pants first.
“Makes sense,” was all she got in response from Declan, and, without anything else to say, they lapsed into silence. The rest of the drive was quiet, just the sound of the tires traversing the road and the low hum of the radio, tuned to some sports station in the background.
Jade rested her head against the window, feeling exhaustion begin to wash over her. She’d had a few drinks earlier, though she wasn't drunk by any means, and now, even as illicit thoughts of her chauffeur made her ache, her body was ready to shut down and recharge. Her eyes drooped closed and though she fought to keep them open, she eventually lost the battle.
But not before she heard a whisper from the driver’s side of the car, Declan’s deep voice making her a promise. “I will always keep you safe, Freckles.”
Pulling up outside Brighton and Sebastian’s house, Declan retrieved his phone from the center console where he'd rested it earlier and sent Sebastian a text letting him know he was outside.
With a sleeping, snoring Jade beside him.
The little snuffling sounds coming from her side of the car were as amusing as they were arousing, and his dirty mind couldn't stop imagining himself wrapped around her sleeping body—after fucking her until she begged for mercy—listening to those soft sounds of contentment.
His phone beeped a response, telling him Seb was coming to open the door, so Declan alighted from the Mustang, walking around to the passenger side so he could lift Sleeping Beauty out and carry her inside.
He assumed she had a key on her somewhere—he'd spent enough time over the years partying late into the night with scantily clad women to know they had a way of hiding keys in their skimpy outfits—but hell if he was going to go digging for it.
Knowing his luck, Jade would wake up mid-search and accuse him of groping her.
Which, to be fair, he'd love to do under different circumstances, but not when she was unconscious after a night of drinking. No way. He'd seen enough of his athletes make stupid mistakes like that, not that he would even consider it.
Her body, her rules.
Besides, if he was going to run his hands all over her lithe little frame, he wanted her alert. And participating.
Maybe not actively participating. Maybe tied up.
Jade didn't stir as he carried her up the two steps leading to Seb’s house, not even when the porch light kicked on, the motion sensor having picked up that Declan was approaching. She looked peaceful in his arms, which, much like sane, wasn't a word that fit her big personality. Sure, her hair was still pink, her tattoos still colorful, her piercings still three-deep in her ears, but with her eyes and mouth closed and the lines on her face relaxed, she looked . . . content.
And contentedness was a good look on her.
“Hey, man.” Dec nodded to Seb as he pulled open the door, dressed in gray sweatpants and nothing else. “Sorry to wake you.”
Sebastian answered with a raised eyebrow; a silent I wasn't sleeping look communicating that Seb had, as Declan had suspected, been busy with Brighton. “No problem. What happened?” Sebastian’s blue eyes moved to Jade, who shifted minutely in Declan’s arms, a barely audible whimper escaping from lips painted a shade of purple not dissimilar to her fuck-me heels.
“I was late at the office, and when I stopped at a red light near Club Row, I saw a chick sitting on the curb, clearly having struggled through the rain. Bright pink hair.” Declan shrugged, the movement stifled by the weight, little though it was, of Jade’s sleeping body. “I pulled over to check on her, and she asked for a ride.”
Sebastian's face betrayed his skepticism as Brighton walked up behind him, resting a hand on his shoulder. Her short, wavy hair was a mess around her face—more evidence that sleeping was the opposite of what these two had been doing in bed—and she smiled at Declan.
“Hey, Dec.” Brighton stepped around Sebastian, and looked down at Jade. “Thank you for bringing her home.” The smile she gave him widened, and Declan returned it, glad to have made his friend happy.
<
br /> Brighton had had more than her share of disappointment over the years, including losing Sebastian—not to mention the very house whose porch he was currently standing on—when Sebastian’s gambling addiction had spiraled out of control. She'd fought back, got her life on track, including a successful career writing children's books, and around about a year ago, had reunited with Seb.
She was finally getting her happily ever after, and though he was sure from the outside it looked as though his relationship with her was underscored by some unrequited feelings, Declan couldn't be happier for her.
He loved her, the same way he loved Sebastian—something he would more freely admit to her than him—and that was as a friend. The woman currently passed out in his arms, however . . .
Yeah, she’s not my friend.
“Where should I put her? She's small, but man, my arms are getting tired.” He exaggerated a weary expression and Brighton laughed.
“Don't let her hear you say that,” she replied, before turning back into the house. “Follow me.”
Declan knew the house well, having helped Sebastian decorate it after Sebastian had revealed to Brighton that it was hers—courtesy of his very wealthy, very generous parents—and then as a frequent visitor and occasional overnight guest. He walked gingerly behind Brighton as she led him down one of the hallways to where two guest bedrooms sat, joined by a Jack-and-Jill bathroom.
“That one.” Brighton pointed at the door on his right, the one that led to the other room on his left. It was firmly closed, something that wasn't typical in this house. “Her stuff’s already in there.”
She held the door open for him, and he nodded his thanks as he walked through, pausing briefly when Brighton called out, “Hold up, lemme grab a towel really quick.” He watched as she laid it across the covers of the bed, then he gently placed the freckle-faced woman in his arms on the bed.
“Should I?” He gestured at Jade’s feet, still clad in her purple heels, the trickle of blood at her knee dry on her skin.
“I'll get her,” Brighton replied, shaking her head and making her way over to the bed to begin removing Jade’s shoes. “I'll have to get her out of these clothes anyway. No one wants to go to bed wet.”
Declan didn't say anything, but he wanted to. On the other hand, Sebastian, who had followed them both to the guest room, started to snicker. Brighton rolled her eyes and held up her hand to stop him, but Sebastian’s mouth lifted in what even Declan would call a sinful smile, causing her face to color.
“Oh, come on, Bright Star—” he started, stopping when Jade’s eyes popped open and she scrambled into a sitting position on the bed.
Declan smiled softly at her, her bewildered expression and sleepy eyes making him wish, not for the first time, that she was the type to accept more help, to let a man care for her the way he wanted to care for her.
The type to forgive a man who made a mistake and was still hoping—fruitlessly, no doubt—for a second chance.
Jade didn't utter a word, instead swinging her now bare feet around, standing and stalking to the bathroom. Brighton followed her, closing the door behind them, and Sebastian gave Declan a sympathetic look.
“She'll be fine now, bro. You can head out.” There was something in Sebastian’s tone that made Declan wonder if he was missing something, but given it was after two in the morning, and he had a full day of work the next day—or that day, technically—he wasn't about to argue.
“Yeah, all right. Thanks.” He reached out to slap Sebastian’s bare shoulder, harder than was necessary, enjoying a moment of teasing with his friend. “I'm fucking exhausted. Golfers, man. Who knew?”
Declan started back down the hall, Sebastian behind him. “Golfers?” his friend asked, confusion in his voice.
“Had a client who sunk his ball in the wrong hole. Major damage control.” Declan fought the urge to roll his eyes and shake his head. Idiot athletes were a dime a dozen in his business, and even being the owner of the most sought-after boutique agency in the business didn't spare him from dealing with those who let their emotions lead.
Or their dicks, in this case.
Sebastian laughed. “Seriously?” He shook his head, no doubt thinking about his perfect relationship with his perfect woman—Declan wasn't jealous, per se, but being around them when they were so in love was getting a little nauseating—and wondering why anyone would stray.
Declan knew his friend would never.
He'd fought too hard to get his life, this house and his girl back to risk it.
“Seriously. I'm out, man, good luck on the tour.” He landed a second slap on Sebastian’s shoulder, and headed for the front door, making sure to flick the lock as he left, pulling the door closed.
As he drove home, he thought about sassy Jade, sleepy Jade and his idiot client. And he couldn't help but wonder, if his pink-haired Freckles was actually his in more than just his solo-session fantasies, would he be searching for other holes to play?
No.
He’d had her once, and all these months later, it was still her—only her. Besides that, he knew he'd be too busy trying to keep up with Jade to even look elsewhere.
Because just the idea of her in those purple heels, in that little black dress, with that bubblegum hair was exhausting and exhilarating. The real thing, he knew, was a handful.
But what a handful.
Jade awoke with a cotton-wool feeling in her mouth, a pounding in her head and a rough tongue having its way with her face.
“Storm, stop,” she groaned, rolling onto her side and cracking one eye open, only to come face-to-face with little Lowe, who looked for all the world like he was smiling at her. “How did you even get up here?”
Lowe yipped as if in answer, and after gingerly pulling herself into a sitting position, Jade noticed a set of homemade steps at the side of bed. Which explained her early morning visitor, because there was no way Lowe would have made it on to the bed otherwise.
“You’re spoiled, you know that?” Lowe yipped again, as Storm began grooming right in front of them. “Storm, come on, it’s too early for that.” Last thing she needed was to be flashed by a white pussy at . . . she glanced over at the old-fashioned alarm clock on the bedside table, and gasped.
Twelve o’clock? With the sun streaming in through the open curtains, the day was clearly half over, and she was only just waking up.
“Holy shit,” she muttered to herself, earning another yip from Lowe. “Sorry.”
I’m apologizing to a dog, she thought, shaking her head and immediately regretting it. She couldn’t work out why she felt so bad; she hadn’t drunk that much the night before.
Besides, Jade’s hangovers were usually accompanied by missing memories and she had a clear memory of being driven home by Declan. Of not basking in his delicious, spicy scent and enjoying the way the moonlight glowed around his perfect face.
Something was clearly up with her if she was waxing poetic about moonlight and spice.
Lifting the little dog out of the way, Jade slid from the bed and made her way over to the attached bathroom, discovering quickly it wasn’t just her head aching, but her whole body.
What the hell?
Her reflection in the long mirror that spanned the length of the double-sink was messy. And that was being kind. She looked awful, she felt awful and shit, she’d just realized that Sebastian and Brighton left that morning, and she’d slept through it.
Washing her face quickly, and scrubbing her teeth with a little more attention, she quickly dressed and made her way to the main part of the house as Lowe and Storm wove their way in and out of her legs, threatening to make her fall flat on her face.
The idea of being knocked down by the animals at her feet reminded Jade of her close call outside the club, and her stumble in her haste to get to a cab and get home. Another reason to be grateful that Declan had seen her and stopped.
She didn’t think the guy would come after her, but you never know. Plus, he was unlikely to
be the only asshole in the area looking to take advantage of someone in her situation.
The kitchen was quiet in the way that homes seemed to be when there was no one else around. The counter, a long, light-colored wood atop white cabinets, was bare but for a slip of paper. Heading over to it, she saw a list of instructions from Brighton.
Damn, she was lucky to have a friend like Bright. She’d basically forced the woman into friendship when Brighton had started up with Sebastian again—her regular, warm presence at the office causing their paths to cross—and Jade was grateful every day that Brighton hadn’t been turned off by her aggressive pursuit.
She’d needed the friendship just as much as Jade had.
At her feet, Lowe and Storm sniffed and pawed at her legs, making sure she wasn’t going to forget that they were there and, given the hour, that they were hungry. “Sorry guys,” she spoke softly, her voice gravelly. She hadn’t noticed that when she first woke, but her body was obviously battling something—not last night’s alcohol, but something else.
Ugh, I do not want to get sick. Like she had a choice in the matter.
Following Brighton’s instructions, Jade set about feeding the pets then herself, making a couple of pieces of dry toast, tea and grabbing a banana to round it out. Typical illness food.
Thankfully, it was Sunday, so she had a day to rest and recuperate before she had to be at the offices of Figures Accounting the next morning.
Full of food and energy, Lowe and Storm made for the doggy door that Sebastian had put into the back door, which led to an expansive green lawn where they could run around and have fun.
Well, Lowe would run around. Storm would watch disdainfully, pretending to be unamused, while soaking up the sun, grooming himself and maintaining his dignity.
Knowing that the animals would be fine on their own for a while, and still feeling like she’d been hit by a car, Jade meandered to the large, cushy gray couch that was in the front room. As she stretched out, she thought about opening a book on her phone and reading for a little while, but before she could, fatigue took over.