Hard Curves (Dangerous Curves Book 2)

by James, Marysol

  “So… plea bargain?” Jax said. He was impatient to get to the goddamn point, since the back-and-forth between lawyers had been dragging on for weeks now. Enough was enough. “Is that what you’re driving at?”

  “Yes. Almost definitely.”

  “With jail time?” he said.

  “Maybe a year, at most.”

  “A year?” Jax leaped to his feet. “For beating Sarah in to a coma? Fuck that.”

  “It’s the law, Jax,” Felicia said. “This is how it works.”

  Fuck. Maybe I should have beaten him senseless when I had the chance.

  “OK,” Sarah said calmly. “If that’s the best there is, then take it.”

  They both stared at her.

  “Sarah,” Jax said. “You’re saying… you’d be OK with that asshole getting a year?”

  “At most?” Felicia added.

  “Am I thrilled?” Sarah said. “No. Of course not. But I want to get on with my life, guys. I want to focus on my recovery, and on Noah’s painting career, and on my relationship with you, Jax. I have things to do, you know? I don’t want to spend years dealing with Dave, thinking about Dave, fighting with Dave, only to lose in the end, anyway. I want to shut that door, once and for all.”

  “Sarah.” Jax spoke as softly as he knew how. “Are you sure, baby?”

  She gazed back at him and he smiled at the look in those blue eyes. Pure determination, courage and heart. That was his girl all the way, and he fully relaxed now. He’d have her six, no matter what she decided. This was her call, and hers alone.

  “I’m sure,” she said. “I have to decide how I want to live my life, Jax. And I choose healing and happiness.”

  “OK,” he said, his throat tight with love for her. “Then that’s what we do.”

  They both looked back at Felicia, who nodded. Their unified front was oddly touching and moving, and she found herself smiling at them.

  “OK,” Felicia told them. “So that’s what we’ll do.”

  Chapter Seven

  Naomi sighed and rolled her shoulders back to ease some of the tension there. The auction was that evening and she was stressed to the eyeballs. OK, yes, everything was ready and she was confident of a successful event, but still. The control freak in her was rearing its ugly head big-time.

  Oh, come on now. Admit to what’s really bothering you. Pretending it isn’t there isn’t going to make the situation go away. Classic alcoholic behavior: ignore the big old purple elephant in the room! Cover your eyes and nobody can see you!

  OK, the truth, then. The truth was that she hadn’t spoken to Matt since that awkward conversation in her office the week before, and that was bothering her. A lot. Oh, sure, she’d seen him when he dropped Callie and Noah off; they’d exchanged hurried greetings and comments about the brutal winter weather. Safe and polite and generic.

  It was crystal clear to her now that letting him see her in that moment of weakness had been a huge mistake. Men hated heavy emotional shit, and Matt was about as male as men got. He’d gone all white knight for the damsel in distress – then when she didn’t offer up his reward, he rode off in to the sunset.

  Was that fair, though? Or was that her mother’s conditioning talking? Naomi knew damn good and well that her faith in men was shaky at best, and her years of alcoholic drinking hadn’t brought the best kinds of men in to her life. Was she mentally writing Matt off as a shallow, womanizing bastard just because she expected men to be shallow, womanizing bastards?

  Or maybe he’s really just a shallow womanizing bastard.

  She sighed again, got to her feet. She wandered in to the small bathroom attached to her office, and gazed at herself in the mirror. Behind her, she saw her dress for that evening hanging on the shower curtain rod. She planned to clean up and get ready here, to save time as the inevitable last-minute problems unfolded. Best to be on-site and not trying to deal with things on the phone.

  She looked in to her own eyes, demanding total honesty from the woman standing there. No bullshit; not anymore.

  Truth Number One: she was attracted to Matt Kingston to the point of fever pitch. She was deeply, crazily, out-of-control turned on by the man. She wanted to peel off his clothes and touch that huge, muscular body with her fingertips, with her tongue. Her pussy gave a helpless pulse at the thought of Matt groaning under her as she licked him, stroked him with her hot mouth. She’d take him to the edge of orgasm and then take him in to her body, as deep and hard as he could go. The thought of how he’d feel inside her, how he’d look when he came, made her breathless.

  Besides her pure lust for him, there was also Truth Number Two: she liked him. He was kind, funny, smart. And God, the way he was with Callie and Noah was touching and genuine. More than once, it had almost reduced her to tears to watch them all together.

  But here came Sad Truth Number Three: despite these two realities, she was an alcoholic in recovery. She wasn’t emotionally equipped to deal with a committed relationship, especially with a guy who didn’t do commitment or relationships. One day she would be ready to be with a man, for sure – but not now. And with a player like Matt? Not ever.

  Which led to Damn Truth Number Four: no matter what her body wanted, or what her heart ached for, her head had to take the lead here. And her head was telling her to stay away from Matt; as far away as she could get.

  Truth Number Four sucks.

  **

  King sighed as he watched Noah and Callie put on their indoor shoes. Fuck, the urge to walk down that hallway to Naomi’s office was strong today. He hadn’t set foot in it since she’d rejected his cautious advances the week before, and it was only through sheer force of will that he stayed put. Showing his hand had obviously been a huge mistake, and no way he was in a rush to be so stupid again.

  “Hey, King?”

  He turned to see Caitlin standing there, looking harassed.

  “Hey, Caitlin. How’s it going?”

  “OK.” She pushed her hair back off her face. “Most everything is ready for tonight, but I was wondering if maybe you could help with a few things?”

  “Yeah, of course. What do you need?”

  “Can you come back this afternoon? Maybe around two?”

  “No problem.”

  “Oh, great. Naomi’s closing up the Heart Center early today so we can clear the main room and set up. We’ll need some help with moving the tables and easels and supplies in to one of the spare rooms in the back, and setting up the stage, and moving the pieces for auction in to the order listed in the catalogue.”

  “Sure.”

  “Thanks.” She wandered away, looking distracted.

  “OK,” King said to Callie. “So you have a good morning, sweetie. Make lots of art.”

  “I will.” She smiled up at him. “And tonight is the auction.”

  “It is.” He ran one hand over her long dark hair affectionately. “You want me to buy your sculpture for a whole lot of money?”

  “No!” she said. “You have lots already. Let someone else buy it.”

  “OK.” He shifted his attention to Noah now. “And how many paintings do you have going up for sale, man?”

  “One.”

  “It’s really good,” Callie piped up.

  Both men stared at her, stunned at her volunteering that kind of information.

  “Is it?” King said. “You’ve seen it?”

  She nodded.

  Noah swallowed, shuffled his feet. King could actually see him gathering up his courage to say something to Callie, and King found himself rooting hard for the younger man.

  “Your sculpture is good too,” Noah finally whispered.

  King shut his eyes in relief, in disbelief.

  “Is it?” Callie whispered back. “You’ve – you’ve seen it?”

  Noah nodded.

  The sile
nce stretched out between them and King fought with himself to not fill it, to stay totally still.

  “I like you,” Noah blurted. “I think you’re nice.”

  Callie blushed a bright red.

  “Pretty, too,” Noah added, obviously crazed with courage at this point.

  “I – you – thank you,” Callie murmured.

  More silence.

  “I like you too,” Callie said. “I think you have nice eyes.”

  Noah turned purple. “Thank – thank you.”

  King bit his lip to stop a smile from splitting right across his face.

  “Do you – do you want to do sculpture today?” Callie said in a rush. “Come with me?”

  Noah almost reeled backwards. “Not painting?”

  “No. Sculpture.”

  “I – I’ve never…” Noah floundered. “I don’t know how.”

  “I can show you,” Callie offered. “I can help.”

  “And on Monday you do painting?”

  “Yes. Monday painting.” She smiled up at him. “With you, OK?”

  “OK.”

  They turned and walked off together. They weren’t touching, not even looking at each other, but King could see the connection between them as clear as day. He heaved a huge sigh, delighted for them, already looking forward to calling Sarah and his sister Lori and filling them in. They’d talked about the whole situation, and they had all been hoping for the best.

  You go, man. Thank God one of us has got his shit together when it comes to the ladies.

  **

  Late that afternoon, King walked in to the Heart Center, carrying the last speaker. He was acutely aware of the fact that everyone had gone home to get ready for tonight – everyone except Naomi. They were alone, and he was itching to get the hell out of here before he pulled a Noah and blurted out his feelings to the woman. He strongly suspected that Naomi wouldn’t be nearly as welcoming as Callie had been.

  He set the speaker down on the raised stage, then spotted Naomi ten feet up on the damn ladder again, and he shook his head.

  Jesus Christ. Stubborn woman. I was only outside for three minutes.

  “Hey,” he said. “I told you to wait for me to do that.”

  “It’s fine.” She stretched out her arm, straightening the sign. “This is the last one.”

  He walked over to her now, stood under the ladder. He admired her ass in those jeans as she got up on her tip-toes and leaned over a bit. She leaned a bit farther, and farther again, and King felt concern flare in his chest.

  “Hey, careful,” he said. “You’re going to lose your –”

  Before he could finish his sentence, Naomi lost her balance. With a shriek of surprise, she fell. King automatically stepped forward, arms extended, and he caught her easily. She landed on her back with a very unladylike “Oooof!”, and she landed hard. It all happened so fast, she didn’t fully understand where she was. Stunned and confused, she closed her eyes, trying to get her bearings, and he gathered her close.

  She felt his arms around her, felt his heartbeat against her cheek. God, he was pure muscle, and hard and huge everywhere. He was so hard, in fact, that it hurt to land on his broad chest like that, and Naomi wondered briefly if she may actually have been better off hitting the floor. Her breath had been knocked out of her by the force of impact, and she gripped his t-shirt and gasped for air.

  “Hey,” King said, a bit shaken at how badly she could have been injured. “You OK?”

  She nodded, still holding on to him.

  “Naomi?” He shifted her a bit in his arms, trying to see her face. “Talk to me. You alright?”

  “Yes.” She opened her eyes now and stared up at him. “I just – it happened so fast.”

  “I know.” He saw how pale she was from the shock. “Take a minute, OK?”

  She shook her head. “I’m fine, Matt.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah. You can let me go now.”

  He didn’t want to, though. He wanted to walk right on out of there with her in his arms, wanted her all wrapped around him as he took her back to his place. He wanted to hold on to her until he laid her down on his bed, and then he’d only let her go long enough to undress her. He’d make love to her until she called his name and came undone in his arms, and then he’d hold her some more. He’d hold her all night long, and she’d wake up in the morning, still cradled in his embrace.

  How can she seriously expect me to let her go? I’m only human.

  Naomi gazed up at him, breathless again, but now for a completely different reason. Good Lord, the look on his hard face was something else. Such intensity, and all of it directed entirely at her. She shivered: a bit out of fear, far more out of desire, and he felt it. Her eyes were melting up at him and their dark, hot depths were all he saw.

  Come on, man. She might say yes. The answer may be yes.

  Finally giving in to his longing to taste her, he lowered his head and took her mouth. Gently at first, but when she moaned and twisted in his arms to get closer, he cupped the back of her head in one huge hand and pulled her in tighter. King deepened the kiss, ran his tongue over her perfect lips, swallowed her gasp of desire in to his own mouth.

  Naomi couldn’t believe how good he felt and without one second of thought, she raised both hands to his face. His stubble rasped against her sensitive palms, and it felt better than she’d imagined. He tasted like mint and citrus, and he smelled of musk and spice, and she couldn’t get enough of him.

  He kissed her over and over again and she responded: she said yes. All female heat and need; so soft and curved against his muscle and hard planes. King kissed her like he owned her and she ached to just let him take her. Any way he wanted; as many times as she could take him.

  King shifted her again, held almost her whole weight on one massive forearm, freeing his other hand to move over her now. His fingers tightened on her cheek as he kissed her, then he moved his hand down her body. She arched when he caressed her throat and stroked down slowly.

  Her breasts were rising and falling rapidly, and he skimmed her side until he reached her hip, slid over her taut stomach, glided up her body again to her other breast. Naomi gave a low cry against his mouth when he circled her nipple, and he kissed her harder, deeper.

  “Naomi,” he muttered. “You’re so fucking beautiful, baby. God, I’ve wanted you like this for so long…”

  His words smashed through her lust, the verbal equivalent of a bucket of freezing cold water. Suddenly, she saw how this would look to anyone just stumbling on to this scene, and she was horrified. She was totally out of control of this situation, and she was seconds away from giving everything to a man who hadn’t even taken her out on a date. A man who was a known player and commitment-phobe. A man who was the exact opposite of the kind of man she should be with in recovery.

  Oh, my God. What the hell am I doing?

  “Matt!” She jerked back, struggled to free herself. “Put me down!”

  “Hey, it’s OK…”

  “It’s not OK. Let me go, right now.”

  “Alright, Naomi… whatever you want.” He took a calming breath. “I’m not going to force you.”

  Carefully, he set her on her feet, watching to make sure she didn’t sway or fall. As soon as her feet hit the floor, she backed right up. King stared at her, totally stunned at her quicksilver change in mood. Ten seconds ago, she’d been liquid fire, writhing and murmuring in his arms, her soft hands on his face. And now, she was looking at him like he was a frightening stranger who was trying to drag her in to an alley, and she was about as warm and welcoming as an iceberg.

  “Honey…”

  “Don’t call me that,” she snapped, trying to ignore the way her nipples tightened and tingled at his possessive growl.

  “OK, I’m sorry.” He held up his hands in a plac
atory gesture. “Naomi. What’s wrong?”

  “I – I shouldn’t have… that shouldn’t have happened.”

  “Why not? It’s clear we both wanted it to.”

  “That doesn’t mean that it was a good idea.”

  King grinned, slow and sexy. “Actually, that means that it was a fucking great idea. That was the hottest kissing I’ve ever known in my life, and I want more of it. More of you.”

  She glared. “Sorry to disappoint you, then, ‘cause that’s all you’re getting of the kissing and of me.”

  He paused, finally really hearing her anger. “Naomi?”

  “What?” She moved farther away.

  “Are you – did I hurt you? Scare you?”

  “No. You pissed me off.”

  He blinked. “I’m sorry… I thought you wanted this, too.”

  “No.”

  King suddenly had no idea what to say or do. “OK, then. My mistake. It won’t happen again.”

  “That would be awesome.” She crossed her arms tight across those amazing breasts. “Now, if you don’t mind, I have to get ready for tonight.”

  “Yeah.” He pulled himself together a bit, still trying to get his head around what the hell was going on here. “Yeah, me too. I’ll get going.”

  “Good.”

  “So… I’ll see you in a couple of hours, I guess.”

  “Yes.”

  King stared at her, trying to think what to say to bring her back to him, but his mind was blank. Naomi was looking at him like she’d be overjoyed if he just dropped dead on the spot, her head tipped to one side in a gesture of annoyance and impatience. He saw her rigid body language and knew there was nothing to be said or done. She’d been pretty damn clear: she didn’t want him around. Like, at all.

  That was when King came to truly believe that she still saw him now as she had that first day in his garage. He was the guy who couldn’t be openly associated with her organization because of his team-for-hire; he was the guy who ran a garage which fixed bikes belonging to MC creeps and criminals. He was questionable in so many ways, and rough around the edges, and he undoubtedly scared her to death.