When Opposites Collide Boxset

by Kathy Coopmans

  I lift my gaze from her tempting ass to Saxon’s brows lifting as he moves off to the side of the front door to allow us to pass. Eyes still bulging out of his big old head. It’s fucking priceless. The man is rarely left speechless, until now. There may even be drool running down his chin under all that hair. But it’s not Amelia he’s staring at. It’s Zoe.

  I make quick introductions keeping everything simple. My heart a pounding reminder that this is actually happening.

  “Down this hall, ladies.” I roll her suitcase down the wide hallway to the last bedroom on the left. “Here. Sorry about the paint fumes. I just finished it up, but it should air out quickly. Your own bathroom is over there.” I point to the open door and admire her reaction.

  “Oh, my God. Zeke.” The amazement floating from Amelia’s voice makes me aware my heart's still beating. It’s practically bashing out of my chest. “You didn’t have to do all this.”

  “The white was boring.” I shrug.

  “Amelia, it’s the same color as the dress. I swear periwinkle is your color.”

  Amelia remains silent taking in the entire bedroom. I’ve bought a new king-sized bed, mattress, bedding. Dresser. A matching desk, equipped with a computer. A phone, and Christ, I may have overdone it.

  “It’s beautiful, Zeke. All of it. Thank you so much.”

  Her face brightens when she looks at me then to the bed. Her gaze trained on the black and white bedding.

  I clear my throat. “You’re welcome. I’ll give you girls some time. Saxon and I were about to start making dinner. Zoe, you’re more than welcome to stay.”

  “Robbie will be home soon. I have to get there before he does.” She tugs down on her short sleeve nervously.

  “Robbie?” I ask.

  “My fiancé.”

  It’s in the way she tugged at her sleeve, the flush on her cheeks, and trepidation in her voice that makes my senses flare up. Something isn’t right with her and this Robbie. The time will come when I’ll ask Amelia if she knows anything about it.

  Zoe squeezes Amelia to death before leaving. The girls share an emotional good-bye, and I walk Zoe out leaving Amelia to do whatever it is she needs to do.

  “What the hell?” Saxon hisses up in my face as soon as our feet hit the kitchen tile.

  “What?”

  I’ve always loved jerking the man’s chain. He grows red in the face, letting me know it’s his tell sign of blowing up.

  “Calm down, Saxon.” I pat his shoulder. “Amelia is my new roommate. She’s going to be working for me.”

  “In your bed?” he asks with a cocked-up brow.

  “Do you think of anything besides booze and pussy?” I shake my head at him.

  “On rare occasions, but seriously, start fucking spilling before I get my own answers.”

  My hands shove into his chest, pinning him up against the refrigerator. The asshole has always been bigger than me, but it’s never stopped me before from putting him in his place. “She needed a place to stay, and I offered. Between her surgeries and what put her in there in the first place, do you honestly think I would bring her here for any other reason than being her friend? Jesus Christ, Saxon.”

  There are so many other details he doesn’t know about, and I’m not the one who will tell him. Brother or not, her trust is safe with me. Amelia’s past is just that, her past, and once justice is served, it will all be buried deep.

  “Chill out, Zeke.” He shrugs out of my grasp. “See how simple words communicate nicely.”

  “Fuck off,” I whisper.

  “Who's the friend?”

  “Just that, her friend, Zoe. She has a boyfriend, so stay away from her.”

  “Never stopped me before.”

  “Pig.”

  A flash of blond beauty rounds the corner, forcing me to step back from Saxon.

  “Hey.” She waves.

  It takes everything inside of me to remain calm and not do fucking cartwheels like a toddler in celebration.

  “Hungry, darling?” Saxon steps up to Amelia, offering her his hand. “Only this asshole calls me Saxon. My friends all call me Brick. I’m the smarter one. Better-looking one and all around nicer one.” Idiot.

  I watch Amelia closely, wondering what her reaction will be. I don’t want people treating her with kid gloves. She deserves to be treated like everyone else. Sheltering her will do no good.

  She hesitates only for a tick before putting her hand out to shake his. If you weren’t watching her, you never would have noticed it.

  “Brick, huh? I can see why.” She eyes him up and down. He is a big scary fucker to some. To me, he’s the idiot ready to get pounded in the face in about two point five seconds or less.

  “You got a last name, Amelia?” Saxon’s gruff voice fills the kitchen. Uh. Yeah, she does, and you know what it is already. What the fuck you up to?

  “Moore,” she squeaks out.

  “Nice to meet you, Amelia Moore.” He steps back saddling up to the bar, pouring himself a whiskey.

  “Would you like some help?” she asks, tentative in her movements.

  “Not this time. Have a seat and keep my idiot brother out of trouble.”

  I make my way into the kitchen, grab her a bottle of water out of the fridge, and slide it across the bar with a wink. The two start talking about nonsense. I find out quite quickly she loves all kinds of sports, and before I know it, the two of them are arguing over the Raiders and the 49ers. When Amelia says the Raiders are her favorite team, I swear on the cross my dick jumps in my jeans. Fuck. This is going to be hard, and I’m not talking about my cock.

  I listen to the two of them while cooking. I’m no psychologist, far from it, but even I know this is considered a victory. I send multiple sideways glares at my brother’s crude language and sexual references. I even go as far as dropping the knife in my hand when he mentions her family and change the subject right away. Steering it back to sports and how much Amelia loves to play basketball. I know Saxon can’t help it. It’s who he is. He wants to dig without her knowing. There’s no shiny exterior hiding in his core. He wears it the same way he wears his motherfucking badge on his leather cut. Proudly. Amelia never flinches, relaxing comfortably in the bar stool, sipping on a bottle of water.

  “Dinner’s ready,” I announce pulling three plates from the cupboard, some silverware, and napkins, setting them down in front of them.

  We all circle the island, dishing out the food, and then settle comfortably at the bar. Conversation is light, but Saxon never strays from trying to pop a question or two into the mix about Amelia’s past. She blows him off every single time.

  “You gonna finish that?” Saxon asks pointing to the remaining half of Amelia’s steak.

  “No, going for more potatoes. Kind of a carb-type girl.” Amelia slides the steak onto Saxon’s plate.

  “You’re like an angel sent from God, woman.” Saxon grins then picks up the meat and begins eating it like a modern-day caveman.

  Amelia’s laughter trails behind her as she makes her way into the open kitchen, helping herself to more mashed potatoes.

  “Anyone need anything while I’m up?” she asks.

  “We’ve got legs,” Saxon replies around a mouthful of steak.

  Saxon’s phone goes off. He answers it with a grunt and replies sharply with, “On the way.” He’s up, pulling on his cut and walking toward the door. He turns halfway and strides over to Amelia.

  “You’re a good woman.” He pulls her into a tight hug. “And yes, I’m only saying that because you gave me your steak. Call ya later, brother, and answer your Goddamn phone when I do.”

  Amelia and I finish our dinner in silence.

  “I’ll do the dishes,” she offers.

  “You don’t have to.”

  “I want to.”

  “Okay, I won’t turn away help.” I stand from the barstool stretching my arms up over my head.

  Painting a room kicked my ass. The gym has nothing on that damn workout
. I’m feeling muscles I didn’t even know I had. When I look over to Amelia, her gaze is focused on the slice of skin peeking out between my T-shirt and gym pants. I look away quickly not wanting to make her feel uncomfortable. Thank fuck my bathroom is far enough away from her room, because with her looking at me like that, there is no way in fucking hell I’m not going to be jacking off to this woman.

  We work side by side until all the dishes are dried and put away. I walk her down to her bedroom, showing her the bathroom that’s connected to it. How to adjust the showerheads and making sure I reassure it’s private and only hers.

  “Thank you for all of this. I already love it here.” She steps up to me, giving me a quick hug, and then steps back. “And don’t tell Saxon, but he’s not the better-looking brother.”

  That makes me throw back my head laughing. “It would probably crush the giant.”

  “He was nice, and thank you for not making him treat me differently.”

  “I’ll never do that to you, Amelia.” I tuck my hands into my black gym pants, hiding my growing erection.

  “I know. I trust you.”

  Her eyes dart up above the closet, and she whispers the quote I drew on the wall.

  The bluebird carries the sky on his back. -Henry David Thoreau

  Tears well up in her eyes. Not sad or remorseful ones, but the hopeful kind.

  “Good night, Bluebird.”

  It takes everything inside of me not to wrap her up in my arms, hold her tight until all her worries fade while whispering quotes into her hair. I don’t. I walk to the door backward, keeping eye contact with her the whole time. The minute I go to pull the door shut is when I realize her demons are not as buried as I thought.

  “No! Doors. Always have to have the door open!” Amelia screams.

  I nod knowing this has everything to do with the nightmare she lived night after night in her own childhood home.

  “Doors always open.” I smile gently at her before backing the rest of the way out and making my way down the hall to lock up.

  My mind doesn’t stray from the beautiful woman across the hall when I crank on my shower and step inside the confines of the dark gray tile. My head still whirling with emotions and every possible thought involving my Bluebird. My mind knows this can’t happen, but everything else in me is battling otherwise with a torrent emotion.

  She’s growing stronger and stronger by the day, yet is still so fragile. If my fingertips ever grace her milky white skin, it will be game on. That day will only come when she’s decided. My cock stirs to life as this storm of emotions overtakes me. It’s violent and consuming throughout the angry veins throbbing down my erection. It’s the type of ache that leaves no survivors behind, and there’s a lingering feeling deep down in my gut that it might be my heart that gets shattered.

  My palm wraps around the aching throb, the water the perfect lubricant as I slowly stroke from base to tip. I close my eyes and see the perfect hue of blue. Just a canvas of gorgeous and endless variety of color. My grip tightens around my aching dick while beginning to pump it faster. Everything about this is wrong. So damn wrong that when tomorrow comes and I have to face her, I’ll struggle to look her in the eyes with a clear conscience.

  I tilt my head upward, my back against the wall. My hand sliding up and down my cock in a frenzy and need for this woman who has me twisted up inside. I want her so bad that my balls burn to feel this release. She’s the first woman I want and know I can’t have. The first I need and wish I didn’t.

  “Fuck, Amelia.” I squeeze my cock, my hand moving faster, while my other hand cups my taut balls tightly, my mind spinning out of control. My head jerks up, my mouth falls open, then I release with a guttural growl. The shower washing away any evidence as I fight to catch my breath.

  Guilt makes its way through the steam, and I’ll be the damned if I’ll allow it to cut me up and strike me down.

  “Fuck it.” I clean up, grab a towel, and dry off.

  It isn’t until long after I’ve climbed into my bed unable to sleep that I make the decision that I need to come out and tell Amelia that there really is something I want. Her. And it does not come with a price.

  42

  Amelia

  My knees go weak as I gaze around the room. Never in a million years would I have expected to come here to this. I knew his home had to be nice. But this, it’s almost too much. Like everything else he’s done for me has been.

  I left the next day after my talk with Ronan. My new start fresh in my mind. I spent a few nights with Renee, allowing her to pamper me more. She took me to a spa. Spoiled me rotten with a pedicure, a haircut, lowlights, and even talked me into getting a bikini wax after I chewed both her and Zoe out for somehow sneaking not one but two bikinis into the pile of clothes from Target. Sneaky bitches. I have never felt this clean or refreshed in my entire life. But now as I stare around the room, the walls start to close in on me. Reminding me that I can’t cry for help if I have a nightmare. I refuse to put any more burden on Zeke than I already am. No matter what he tries to tell me, this has to be just as much of an adjustment for him as it is for me.

  I shuffle my feet to the dresser, grab a cami and a pair of sleep shorts, and make my way into the bathroom, going through my nightly routine of washing my face, brushing my teeth, and applying moisturizer. All of this is still new to me. I’ve never felt this good about taking care of myself in a long time.

  I make sure the door is still open, climb into bed, and damn near sigh when I rest my head on the pillow, my body sinking into the soft mattress below me.

  My mind drifts back to earlier. The dinner, the talking, and how comfortable I felt around Zeke’s brother. He’s funny. A tad bit scary and yet he’s holding so much pain inside of him that it broke my heart watching him pretend to act as if nothing was wrong. Something terrible happened to Brick and Zeke. I can feel it all the way to my bones.

  The only way I can tell that he and Zeke are brothers is through their eyes. Eyes so intensely green and vibrant that they seer right through you. I swear Brick was reading my thoughts. And the questions he was asking about my family didn’t go unnoticed, either.

  I roll over, tuck my hands under the pillow, and shrug it off as a man trying to protect his brother. I would do the same thing if I had a sibling. I shudder at the thought. My inner self thanking God I didn’t. If those sick bastards had done what they did to me to my sister if I had one, I’m not sure I would be here today. I would have either killed them or myself for not having the strength to protect her.

  I close my eyes. The drain of worrying the past few days slamming me hard. I fall asleep, no nightmares of my past. It’s the man in the bedroom down the hall who enters my dreams. The dreams he’s in are the ones that frighten me the most.

  “Good morning, Doc,” I say when I hear Zeke approaching. The one thing you learn very quickly when living on the streets is to know when someone is coming up behind you. If you don’t, you’ll wind up raped or dead or beaten in an alley. I shake that thought away. Reminding myself I was strung out on drugs when that happened. Too concerned to care.

  “Amelia, you did not have to do this. It looks great. Thank you,” he says as I place the last piece of bacon on a plate and spin around to hand it to him.

  I’m struck dumb. Speechless when I half expect to come face-to-face with him dressed in clothes to go to work. I sure as hell didn’t expect to be staring at his bare chest. Oh, geez, his sweat. He smells manly and his arms are huge. Defined and capable of… I need to stop before his breakfast goes cold and I drop to a puddle of sweat on the floor myself.

  I internally sigh. My legs start wobbling. This is not the way I planned on starting out my day. I wanted to wake up, make him breakfast, and start working. I need to occupy my time.

  “I, uh…I hope you like bacon and scrambled eggs.” I force my eyes away from his muscular chest to gaze up into his eyes. The tension in this room is as heavy as this plate begins to feel in my hands. I w
ant to drop it and reach out and touch his sweaty skin. To taste the salt mixed in. To experience something I have no right thinking about. Especially with him. Shit. Moving in here was a bad idea for a woman like me. I’ve resisted the urge to touch myself for months now. It’s going to be a losing battle to do so.

  “Here.” He takes the plate from my hands, sets it on the bar, and walks around me without touching to get himself a cup of coffee. I feel my face flush. My skin tingling. I need a shower or a run or something to pull me away from these foreign thoughts and feelings. Clear my head and start over. Except, I’ve done all those things already.

  I tiptoed out of my room at the crack of dawn. Checked every room except the one that was locked for a treadmill, weights. I found exactly what I was looking for in his basement. A complete gym that stole my breath right out from under me. I ran, worked out, and tried to block my wicked dream out of my mind. Hell, who needs the gym down the street he mentioned when he invited me with everything he has here?

  And now, with him practically naked, everything bounces right back to the center of my chest in a whoosh.

  “Aren’t you eating?” he asks, sits down, and digs right in.

  “I already did,” I half lie. I picked at the bacon, drank some coffee, and with my stomach flopping all over the place, I don’t think I could keep anything down if I tried.

  “Well, that sucks. I have to be at the hospital in a few hours. I’m not sure when I’ll be home. That’s the thing about working in the ER. It could be when the shifts change, or I could spend days there. I should have talked this out with you last night. I’m sorry.” He keeps his eyes cast down while he eats, which I find strange. Usually, his eyes make contact with me at all times. In fact, they light me up when he does. I’m so confused about everything right now.

  “It’s okay, Zeke. I shouldn’t have shown up here unannounced. You could have been doing all sorts of things or had a woman here. Hell, I don’t know. Do you want to get me started on this charity ball?” I’m rambling, becoming angry. My tone comes out harsh.