by L. D. Fox
“Yeah, I think I lost that somewhere back in eighty-two, when I banged those sisters.”
Drew let out a long sigh. “The Jones’s sisters?”
“What? No, not them.” He laughed. “Probably shouldn’t have agreed to let their brother watch us—”
Drew made a disgusted sound and hung up the phone. Bryce was still laughing as he let himself back in the house. When he slid back into bed, Joy stirred and rolled over. Her hand went around his waist.
“Why’re you so cold?” she murmured.
“’Cos you’re doing a shitty job of warming me up, peaches.”
“Sorry.” Her arm tightened, and she let out a soft sigh as she plummeted back into the depths of sleep.
Bryce stared down at her, pushing a strand of hair out of her face. There was enough ambient light that he could make out her features, but not much more.
“I’m going away this weekend,” he said, sticking his hand up under her shirt. She made a soft sound when he cupped her ass and drew her closer. “Don’t be here when I come back.”
“What?” Joy’s eyes flashed open. She blinked at him a few times before pushing herself to her elbows. “What the fuck, Bryce?”
He shrugged. “I told you when we met; this wouldn’t last longer than a week.”
“I thought you were just being an asshole.” She pushed away from him, but he yanked her back.
“Any last words?”
“Yeah.” Joy slapped his chest, wriggling to try and escape him. “Go fuck yourself.”
“I’d prefer it if you did.”
She was still struggling when he slid on top of her, but pretty soon she was making the same animalistic sounds of pleasure as before.
“Why?” she whispered, still clinging to him, still trying to catch her breath.
“Why what?”
“Why can’t I stay?”
“Because I’m done with you, baby girl.”
Joy exhaled softly, turning her face to him. In the dimness of his bedroom, he could see wetness shimmering on her lashes.
Jesus, he hated it when they bawled. He pulled out of her and sat on the side of the bed, using his shirt to wipe off his dick.
She slid her arms over his shoulders, hugging him hard.
“Is there someone else?”
He laughed, reached behind him, and slapped her ass.
“There will be. Next week.” When he got to his feet, she clung on for all of two seconds before releasing him.
When he was done pissing and had tugged on a clean pair of briefs from his walk-in cupboard, the bed was empty. He walked through the house, his smile fading when he saw that Joy’s handbag wasn’t on the kitchen table. That her shoes were gone. Her car keys, gone.
He went into the dining room he’d converted into his study and got the stack of papers Harry had faxed through. After staring at them for a while, rubbing his thumb over the place where Angel’s name had been printed, he let out a weary sigh and dropped the papers back on the desk.
He returned to his bedroom and pulled a duffel bag down from the cupboard. He tossed in some clothes. His fingers paused in the act of opening his nightstand drawer. Then he shook his head and took out his Smith & Wesson. He caressed it for a few seconds, brought it up for a quick whiff, and bundled it in the faded red t-shirt he’d found in the back of his cupboard. A round of ammunition went on top of it, and he wrapped everything in another t-shirt, this one black and just as faded. The parcel went in the bottom of his bag, socks and two pairs of clean briefs going in after it. Then he tossed back the shirts he’d shaken out and zipped the bag closed, setting it down by the door.
It was almost two in the morning when he climbed onto the couch, drew one of his discarded suit jackets over his legs and another over his torso, and tried to fall asleep.
33
Love at First Sight
Drew’s shoes crunched on brown pine needles when he stepped from the car. His footsteps were echoed a few seconds later when Angel opened her door and came to stand beside him.
“And?” he asked, sliding his arm over shoulders. “What do you think?”
“Fuck Netflix; I’d live here if I had to eat out of a can every night.”
He squeezed her, and she turned her face up to him. “Beautiful, isn’t it?”
“That’s an understatement, and you know it.” She turned back to the lakehouse, shifting until her body was flush against him. “Cold, though.”
“Let’s get everything inside, and I’ll get a fire going.”
But he didn’t move immediately, instead staring out at the lakehouse. Embedded on the rockier part of the slope framing the western side of Blackwater lake, the two-story cabin looked like something out of a fairy tale with its peaked roofs and log walls, despite the thickness of the shadows oozing from the eaves. Twilight always came suddenly here, and it had been chasing them the last mile down the dirt road they’d taken to get here.
How was it he’d only been here once? Granted, Penny hated vacations that required more effort than changing channels on the television, but surely he and Juliet could have made the trip—
“Can you open the trunk?”
Drew blinked, shrugged inside his jacket, and gave Angel a nod as he released her. He grabbed his key from the ignition and pressed the button that unlocked the trunk, going around the back of the car to help Angel unload their bags.
Hers was just a rucksack — the same one she’d arrived with less than a week ago — but he’d packed a suitcase.
“You’d better hope there’s enough in there to keep you warm,” he said, handing Angel’s bag to her.
She shrugged. “The way you were going on in the car, I’m spending most of the weekend in bed.”
He grinned at her, but she didn’t return the smile. Instead, her eyes returned to the lakehouse, drawn there by some invisible force. She slipped the strap of her bag over her shoulder, crossed her arms over her chest, and strode over the fallen pine needles toward the steps leading down to the cabin.
Inhaling a massive draft of fresh, pine-scented air, Drew followed.
Halfway down the steps, he took out his cellphone. There was a single bar of signal — surprising, since the last time he’d stayed here there was no reception at all. But, as he came to a halt in front of the wide door that barred their way into the cabin, that one bar of signal disappeared.
Angel was looking at him when he glanced up and slid his phone back into his pocket.
“Did she call?” the girl asked, stamping her feet.
“Not yet. But she couldn’t have been more than thirty minutes behind us.”
“I hope she gets a flat,” Angel muttered, stepping aside and gesturing wildly at the door. “Can you open already? I’m getting frostbite.”
He smiled at her. “This is nothing. You should feel it just before dawn.”
“Christ,” she murmured, stamping her feet again. “I’m not going to make it till then.”
He took his key from his pocket and unlocked the door, pushing it open to let Angel step inside. She did, but hesitated at the lintel.
“Who left the lights on?”
Drew stepped past her, cutting off the small draft of chilly air trying to work its way deeper inside the house.
“I have someone come in once a week to air out the place.”
“Course you do.” Angel gripped the strap of her rucksack as she edged deeper inside. “Where do I put my stuff?”
When she turned, Drew caught hold of her arms. She stiffened, eyes narrowing into wary slits.
“You’re going to behave yourself this weekend.”
She shrugged, but he didn’t release her. Then she nodded. “Why wouldn’t I?”
“Because you’ve made it abundantly clear how you feel about the fact that Kelly’s going to be here, too.”
“So I can’t have opinions anymore, is that it?” She scowled at him. “Because I’m always going to have opinions, Mr. Sugar. You can’t—”
“Just as lo
ng as you don’t voice them or act on them, you can have as many opinions as you want.”
His smile wasn’t returned, but he could feel Angel’s eyes on him as he moved past her. “Come see your room.”
They stood in a small, cozy living room. The fireplace was empty, but a warm orange glow streamed from sconces studding the wall. It was warmer in here than it had been outside, but he knew the fireplace would heat this room enough that they could wear short sleeves in here without feeling the cold; double-paned windows and the insulation in the walls took care of that.
There were three doorways from the living room; one led to the kitchen, the other to the downstairs bathroom, a third to the stairway. He headed for the stairs, but Angel had become stuck again.
She gazed out the double doors that opened onto the deck. Or, perhaps she was staring at the lake. A light wind ruffled the surface of the water, spoiling the mirror-like effect it normally had. He’d hoped they could see the milky way reflected on that unbroken surface later tonight; perhaps the wind would have died down by then.
“Come on.” He grabbed hold of Angel’s arm and steered her toward the stairs.
He’d expected her to be awed by the place, but there was something else… something considering in her eyes when she glanced at him over her shoulder.
“How much did this place cost?”
“More than it should have.” He clenched his jaw, looking past Angel and up the carpeted stairs. Their footfalls thudded back to them, barely muffled by the carpets.
“Then why’d you buy it?”
He shrugged then. “Every man needs a lakehouse.”
His eyes returned to her. She was looking up, toward the door at the top of the stairs. Whoever had built this cabin had warmth at the top of their mind. Every area was self-contained; there were more doors in this place than in his house back on Elm.
Angel opened the door, stepped onto the landing beyond.
“Last door on the right.”
She moved ahead of him, glancing at each door they passed as if trying to see through the wood.
He inhaled deep. The cabin smelled as fresh and earthy as the air outside.
Angel opened the door, gave him another unreadable look over her shoulder, and stepped inside.
The white bedsheets and shaggy rug that lay over the thick carpets made the pale wood that formed the walls seem that much darker. That much warmer. All the room contained was a queen-sized bed, a dresser with a single ladder-back chair, and a doorway that led to the small en-suite bathroom.
The stretch of windows on the eastern exposure of the room had curtains, but they’d been tied back with satin cords. All the better to let the sunrise in. All the better to see the lake spread beyond, framed by majestic pillars of pine, rocky cliffs, and the purple sky.
Angel’s bag thumped to the floor. She spun to him, a gleam in her blue eyes.
This room was warmer than the living room downstairs — the maid had switched on the house’s heating when she’d left, and the small radiator had had just enough time to draw the chill from the air.
“What is it?”
Angel shook her head, blinking at him a few times and then moving closer. “I love it here.”
“You’ve only been here five minutes.”
“So?”
“So, I’m sure by tomorrow you’ll have fallen in love.”
“I just told you—”
He grabbed the top her arms, drawing her up to the tips of her toes so he could stare deep into her eyes.
“I wasn’t talking about the cabin.”
A flicker of confusion crossed over her face, but it was gone as soon as it arrived.
“What do you want, Mr. Sugar?” Angel’s eyes searched his, her mouth remaining open after she’d spoken.
“Haven’t I made myself clear?” He stepped forward, pushing her back in his wake. “Because I thought I did.”
“I thought so too,” she murmured, seeming not to notice the change in her position as he guided her closer to the bed. “But then you go and invite Miss Prissy from next door to come with us. Mixed signals, much?”
His lips spread into a beguiling smile. “Ah, but you’re missing a crucial bit of information, Angel.”
“Yeah?” The back of her knees thumped into the bed. She sat, perhaps not entirely of her own volition, and tipped her head back so she could maintain eye contact. “What’s that?”
“I invited Bryce, too.”
A tremor of panic tightened her eyes. “Why would you do that? I mean, after what he did—”
“After what you did,” Drew corrected absently. He tugged at a lock of Angel’s hair — she wore it loose around her shoulders, a look that complimented the fur-framed jacket she’d borrowed from Penny’s cupboard — and curled it around his finger.
“Why?”
“I told you, I’m done fighting. It’s time I just accepted it. He’s better than me. He’ll always be better than me. And there’s nothing I can do about it.”
He sank to his knees, and she shifted back on the bed before he grabbed hold of her hips and dragged her back.
“So I’m making sure you’re all mine, sweetheart. Hook.” He kissed her throat. “Line.” His lips brushed her collarbone. “And sinker.”
She swallowed hard enough that he could see her throat moving, then brought up a hesitant hand and tucked her hair behind her ear. It was such an innocent gesture, one he’d never seen her make before. Evidently, he’d rattled her. But, then again, she’d been rattled ever since she’d gotten into the car this morning outside his house on Elm. She’d kept glancing over at him when he was peering out through the windshield as if he couldn’t see those movements from the corner of his eyes. Watching him. Studying him with that tiny, calculating frown between her brows.
“You don’t think this is all happening a little fast?” Her voice was unsteady, and the hand she reached out to touch him with trembled against his neck. “I mean, getting married? Putting me in your trust?”
“At my age,” he said with a rueful chuckle, “There’s no time for fucking around.”
Her lips twitched then. “None at all?”
“Well…” he dropped his head, grabbed her knees, and ran his palms up her thigh, gathering her over-sized sweater in folds around her hips. “I guess there will always be time for some fucking around.”
She inhaled sharply when he slid his hand behind the elastic of her dark leggings and tugged them down to her knees.
“She’s going to be here any—”
“Did I say you could speak?”
He glanced up in time to see Angel’s jaw clamping shut. She bit her bottom lip, slowly spreading her legs when he grabbed the inside of her thighs. He sat forward as he brushed his lips against hers. She trembled under that phantom kiss, her breath warming his mouth in a jagged exhale as he speared his middle finger deep inside her.
The sound she made — so soft, so exquisite — made him harden inside his jeans.
“When is he coming?” Angel whispered, her words mingled with a moan.
“Bryce?” He paused, staring at her until her eyes fluttered open.
“Yeah.”
“Tomorrow, probably.”
“Good.” Her eyes closed again, and she let out a sigh that stroked his cheek. “I don’t want to have to think about him tonight.”
“Don’t.” Drew grabbed roughly at her breast, squeezing hard. Angel moaned and tried kissing him, but he nudged her head away with his cheek, putting his lips to her ear. “Don’t ever.”
Sliding his fingers out of her, Drew took her thighs and spread them wide, until her knees brushed either side of the bed beside her. He stared down at her until she began squirming in his grip. When he looked up, pink stained her cheeks.
He ducked his head and swiped his tongue over her, quick and hard.
Angel’s legs tensed, trying to close. She moaned, loud enough to send a thrill through his entire body, as his tongue stabbed deep into her.
Drawing away, Drew gave her a slow, long lick that left her shuddering. Then he looked up at her, his mouth pulling into a lopsided smile.
“Do you like it, sweetheart?”
“Fuck yes,” she said, her hands tightening in his hair. “Why the fuck did you stop?”
“You want more?” he murmured, stroking her with his fingertips. She shivered violently, nodded, and parted her lips for another moan when he shoved his fingers inside her. “What’s the magic word, sweetheart?”
“Please,” she belted out. “Please, Sir. More. I want—”
“Put your things in the cupboard.”
She slammed her fist on the bed, glaring at him. “I didn’t—”
“And you won’t. Not until Monday.”
Her eyes grew wide, and then her mouth turned into a petulant pout.
“Not unless you behave yourself.”
“Fuck you,” she said, reaching down.
Drew grabbed her hand, slammed it into the mattress beside her head. “No, Angel.”
Her gaze flashed from eye to eye, her scowl deepening. “And what if I do, huh?”
“Then you’re leaving. Tonight.”
Her face became slack. “You wouldn’t.”
“You really think you know me that well? Already?”
Something flashed over her face then, but whether it was uncertainty or sulkiness, he couldn’t say. She smoothed her expression, slowly dragged her bottom lip through her teeth.
“Fine, Mr. Sugar. I’ll wait for you. I’ll be your obedient little slut for as long as you want me. Is that what you want to hear?”
“That’s exactly what I want to hear.” He grabbed her wrist, holding her hand up as he tugged off her ring.
Her face twitched, but she didn’t break eye contact with him. He slipped her ring into his pocket, patting it through the rough fabric.
“Let’s not spoil the surprise, shall we?”
“Whatever you say, Mr. Sugar.”
Drew dipped his head and pressed his mouth to hers.
She began grinding in earnest against him, moaning, and he shoved her hips down with a hand again, breaking off their kiss with a laugh. Her expression — half loathing, and half lust — softened at the sound.