by C. M. Owens
I laugh while pushing her up on the bed, and she watches me with soft eyes, running the length of my body with her gaze.
“You know this is risky. Angel has nightmares sometimes. She could wake up and come in here. She’s not even asleep yet.”
Good thing I’m persistent.
“I’ll sleep on the side near the window. If she comes in, I’ll drop quietly to the floor and hide out until she’s asleep. I’ll sneak out before she wakes up. Or I’ll make it look like I just got here. My bags are still in my car, so I have clothes. Don’t make me spend tonight alone.”
Yeah. I’m not above using the Christmas guilt here. I want Allie in my arms, under me, on top of me, beside me. I don’t care where she is as long as she’s near me. I’m fucking obsessed, and I love it as much as I hate it.
“You can really get out of sight if she comes in?” she asks, seeming hopeful.
“No doubt. I don’t want to leave.”
She almost looks relieved, and she pulls me to her, kissing me before I can react, and I grab her bare hips, pulling her to me, relishing the taste of her lips.
“Good. Because I slept like hell without you here. You had so better not have messed up sleep for me,” she grumbles, and I can’t help but smile.
I’m an asshole for hoping she can’t sleep without me ever again.
***
ALLIE
Stupid? Yes. This is exactly what it means to be kissed stupid. Wren Prize makes me a true dumb blonde. And I’ve really always hated that damn cliché judgement.
But when he flicks that tongue inside my mouth, my brain automatically brings memories forth of him flicking that tongue somewhere else. That sets off a chain reaction, and heat pools between my thighs.
My body is on fire and chilled at the same time, and I push closer, feeling as though I can’t get close enough. Now we’re naked, on my bed, and he’s taking his time, teasing the hell out of me with that tongue, moving it down my body.
His lips… there aren’t enough words to describe the talent he possesses with those lips. The hungry kiss we had turns into something more drawn out, almost reverent, and complete torture.
He trails whisper soft kisses up and down my body, a worshipful touch that has me arching off the bed. He untangles my hands from his hair—even though I didn’t realize they were there—and pulls them away, keeping me from rushing his slow, deliberate, and soft ministrations. I swear he’s trying to touch everything on my body with that tongue.
He pushes my legs apart, and I shiver when he gets close, settling his body in the space he’s created. I shiver when his hair tickles my lower stomach.
“You don’t have to do that,” I say in a shaky breath. “I’m more than ready.”
I feel, rather than see, him smile just before his hot breath fans my sex. What do I do? I whimper, because apparently embarrassing, unintelligible sounds are my specialty with Wren Freaking Prize.
“I’m doing this because I want to, Allie. You’ve become… an addiction.”
“Wren, if you don’t—oh shit.”
My words end on the first flick of his tongue, and when he pulls that bundle of nerves into his mouth and sucks, I damn near see stars that quickly. He’s sucking and flicking his tongue in unison, and I grab a pillow to muffle my sounds as he holds my bucking hips against the bed.
I don’t just fall off the edge; I explode, turning into nothing more than sensitive fragments of my normal self. It’s almost painful when he doesn’t stop immediately, and a soft cry escapes me. He finally peels himself away from the cradle of my thighs, and he crawls over me, moving up my body like a smooth predator.
When his lips find mine, he pushes inside me, and I shudder against his gentle, measured entry as he slides deeper. The second he’s fully seated inside me, he kisses me harder, exploring my mouth thoroughly like he’s trying to imprint himself on me forever.
Mission accomplished.
I’m his.
And Wren Prize can break me with very little effort at this point.
His hips rock, pulling out and pushing back in with that painstakingly slow motion, and he continues with his tormenting pace. He holds my hips down when I try to make him move faster, and gradually, a sheen of sweat builds between our bodies.
Minutes, hours… I’m not sure how long he drags it out, but I’m ready to explode by the time he finally rolls over, keeping us connected as he brings me with him, and I slide down, almost holding my breath to keep from moaning too loudly.
Wren grabs my hips, trying to set the rhythm once again, but this time, he thrusts into me from underneath, and it’s so hard that I can’t help but cry out and quickly try to mute it by biting my lip. From there, the pace quickens, and he uses my hips as handles, driving me down, pushing me back, and I work with him, letting him control it.
My stomach muscles tighten, nerve endings fire, and my toes literally curl when an almost painful orgasm rips through me. Wren shoots up, clamping a hand over my mouth as he flips me to be on my back once again, and muffles the sounds I can’t quiet any longer.
His hips keep rocking, and he buries his face in my neck when he suddenly thrusts in hard one last time, holding himself at the deepest point. His growling groan gets lost against my flesh, and his warm, delicious breath sends chills down my neck.
I. Can’t. Move.
My body feels like it weighs a thousand pounds, and Wren chuckles when I don’t bother covering any piece of myself or make any effort to move off the bed. I still have to set the clock for three so I can wake up and be Santa—hide the presents just a few hours before Angel wakes up.
Wren is all-consuming, and I’m apparently very willing to be consumed.
“What are you thinking right now?” Wren asks, his lips trailing down my neck in a lazy motion.
So many things go through my mind, but to sum them all up, I go with the shortest version of the truth.
“I’m addicted to you, too,” I mutter in a barely audible tone.
He pauses, his kiss suddenly stopping against the curve of my shoulder, and I feel his smile grow once again. “Good.”
Chapter 27
WREN
Three and a half weeks of climbing in and out of Allie’s window has been heaven and hell at the same time. Heaven because she lets me stay, lets me hold her, and the sex is fucking incredible. Hell because I can’t touch her in public since someone might say something to Angel. And hell because I have to sit way away from her when I’m hanging out with her and Angel so that Angel doesn’t catch on.
But I have no idea how to prove to her that I’m the real deal. It’s hard to convince a woman you’re not leaving, when she’s had to raise your child on her own for over six years. Angel is my priority, and Allie is right up there with her.
“You drove us thirty minutes out of Sterling Shore to go to a bar?” Allie asks as we walk inside the bar/club establishment.
A small, square dancefloor is toward the front, and a band is playing for the cheering crowd. This is not an ideal date, but it’ll have to do.
“I want to celebrate. Angel is now in private school and in class with Carrie. We still haven’t technically had a first date. And since Bella wanted a girls’ night with just Angel, I thought this would be good. No one here is going to know—”
“Well, I’ll be damned. Allie and Wren in a bar,” Maverick Sterling says from behind me.
I turn to see him grinning over my shoulder, and then I spot Corbin beside Allie, his mocking smile focused on me. Fuckers.
Allie cocks an eyebrow at me, silently saying, “No one, eh?”
“They don’t count.” I shrug, motioning between the two womanizing Sterlings.
“The hell?” Maverick asks, just as a girl wraps her arm around his, and bids for his attention.
He grins down at the black-haired girl and winks. “Not right now, pretty thing. Let me talk to my friends. I’ll find you later.”
Apparently she said something I couldn’t hear over
the music in order for him to say that. She winks at him, then casts a narrowed glare at Allie. Fortunately, Allie doesn’t notice.
I pull her closer to me anyway, letting the woman know she’s mine and not Maverick’s, since the bastard is propping up on her. Maverick’s arm falls off Allie’s shoulder once I have her back resting against my front and my arms around her waist.
I think she’s smiling. It’s hard to tell from this angle.
“You two come to party?” Maverick asks, grinning salaciously between me and Allie.
I roll my eyes before kissing the top of Allie’s head.
“We came to have fun away from Sterling Shore. But not to party. Angel will be waiting up. She’s excited about seeing Carrie tomorrow.”
Immediately, Maverick pouts. “Rain won’t let me use Carrie to pick up women. Do you know how much easier life would be if I could show them what a great uncle I am?”
Carrie calls all the Sterlings uncles, even though Kode is technically her only uncle.
Allie laughs, surprising me, and I look down, amused as she shakes her head. “From what I’ve heard, you don’t need help,” she brazenly points out.
Maverick likes to pretend he has to chase ass. But we all know the truth. He only chases the ones that aren’t chasing him.
“Yeah, but Carrie makes it so much easier,” Maverick tells her matter-of-factly, and Allie laughs again while leaning back against me, acting like it has become natural for her.
I like it.
“Tag says you’ve been avoiding him since before Christmas. Including his calls. Rye says you’ve avoided him since after Christmas,” Corbin chimes in, and I’d like to punch him.
Billy. That’s why Tag and Rye are calling me. I’ve avoided them like I’ve avoided the reporters. They can’t print that I have a child without risking slander suits if their information is incorrect.
Allie twists her head, trying to see me, and concern mars her features.
“I’m sure you know why,” I tell Corbin, glaring at the ass who ran his mouth.
He shrugs. “I was worried about you. I mean, hell, the tool screwed your fiancée and you didn’t go that crazy. You were surprisingly calm when all that went down. But over at Allie’s house… If I hadn’t shown up, there’s no telling what you would have done.”
I wouldn’t have actually killed him. Christ. It was a fight. I’m sick of everyone freaking out about it.
Allie tenses against me, and I mentally curse Corbin. He looks down at her, and gets the picture, so he shuts up. Maverick looks confused, but he scowls at Corbin like he knows Corbin has left him out of the loop. However, he shifts the subject instead of digging for details.
“Holy hell. Redhead dancing,” Maverick says, pointing to a girl on the dancefloor who is indeed dancing like she’s ready for attention.
Her back is turned, her hands are in her silky red hair, and her short dress is barely covering her ass. I want to see Allie dance and let loose like that.
Leaning down, I get against her ear as Maverick continues trying to urge Corbin into action.
“Will you dance? I’ll be happy to stand back here and watch.”
She laughs before leaning her head all the way back and staring up at me.
“I’ll dance in private. Not in public. At least not like that,” she says, pointing to the redhead.
“You’ll dance in private like that?” I ask, noticing the husky tone my voice has taken and the achingly hard appendage that is pressing against the zipper of my jeans now. Boxers really should be thicker.
She grinds her hips against me, and I hiss out a breath when her ass rubs me in a torturing circle.
“You’re right,” I growl. “I’d probably end up in a fight if you danced like that in public.”
She laughs, but it feels strained. I can almost feel her wanting to ask a question, but she doesn’t.
“You two coming to Tag’s tomorrow?” Allie asks Corbin and Maverick.
I might have been avoiding Tag and Rye since the shit with Billy, but tomorrow I’ll have no choice but to face them.
“Yeah,” Corbin answers, tearing his gaze away from the redhead who is still dancing with her back turned. “We’ll be there all day. Super Bowl Sunday, baby,” he adds, winking at her.
My jaw grinds, and I glare at him. Maverick notices. “Chill, Wren. Corbin has shut down. Ruby isn’t even back yet, and his dick is in hibernation. He’s all talk nowadays. Believe me. He’s sucking as a wingman.”
Corbin punches Maverick in the arm, telling him to shut the fuck up, but now Allie seems intrigued.
“Is Ruby your girlfriend?” she asks innocently.
Corbin chugs some of his beer as an excuse not to answer.
“No,” Maverick answers, mischief in his eyes. Corbin walks to the bar to order another beer while Maverick continues. “Ruby was our best friend until she moved away when she was thirteen—a few weeks before Rain moved in. Corbin went to see her every summer, or she came back with her dad to see him. No clue what happened, but they dated a few times, and it ended every time—well, obviously. If you start asking him about it, he blushes. If you keep pushing, he tries to shift the subject. If you continue to pry, he finds a reason to walk away. Watch this.”
The second Corbin returns, Maverick—being the taunting ass he is—sets out to prove his point.
“So no clue when Ruby is coming back?” Maverick asks.
Corbin tenses immediately, seeming to know Maverick is up to no good.
“Nope. She keeps getting delayed because of one of her other shops. She ended up having to train a new manager, and her stepmom is here, covering the Sterling Shore shop for her until she can return.”
Allie looks confused, so I lean down. “Ruby owns a chain of tattoo parlors. Her dad and she are co-owners, actually.”
Maverick starts in again, and Corbin glares at him. “If you’re not dating her, then why not pick out one of the hotties here to take home? You’ve been acting like a loyal boyfriend lately.”
“Fuck you,” Corbin mutters.
“What happened when you two were dating?”
Corbin blushes, as if on cue, and it’s pretty fucking funny to see a guy as big and muscled up as Corbin blush like a girl.
“Maverick…”
His tone is warning, but Maverick continues. “Seriously, dude. I’m dying to know. Was the sex bad or something?”
Corbin shifts awkwardly. “So, the redhead. You going after her or not?” he asks, trying to shift the subject.
“Not if you want her. Go on. Will Ruby get mad if you screw around? I mean, if you’re not dating, what does it matter?”
“I need a beer,” Corbin says, still holding his fresh beer.
Maverick laughs before grabbing his arm. “Just fucking with you. I’ll stop.”
Corbin relaxes, and even I admit I’m intrigued. What the hell is up with Ruby Kross and Corbin Sterling?
“The redhead has my full attention since you’re not going to bag and tag her,” Maverick crudely states, eyeing the redhead’s ass like a steak.
Finally, the mystery woman turns, and both Sterling men spew beer across the room at the same time. My jaw pops open seconds before my painful outburst of laughter spills free, and Allie tilts her head while both Sterlings unleash a litany of surprised curses.
“Isn’t that Britt Sterling? Dane’s sister?” Allie asks, now clearly amused.
“Motherfucker,” Maverick groans. “My eyes. My eyes are burning and my brain needs to be bleached. I’m never having sex again.”
Corbin gags as though he’s just a breath away from retching, and Allie scoots away to get out of the line of fire in case he does.
“Damn it, Britt!” Corbin yells, still trying to wipe his mouth free of the beer he just spat out.
Britt hears him, and her gaze finds us, her doe-eyed innocent expression only causing me to laugh harder. She walks toward us in the shortest, tightest dress known to man, and her cleavage is popping out of
the top.
But the sexual appeal she held to the Sterlings seems to be lost now. They’re both glaring at her like angry big brothers. I feel sorry for any guy who attempts to climb that mountain.
“What?” she asks when she reaches us.
“What the hell are you doing here?” Corbin growls.
She seems oblivious, which is typical for socially awkward Britt, who doesn’t really understand emotions. It’s also one of everyone’s favorite things about her.
“Dancing. I love dancing,” she says honestly. “I come here since they allow eighteen-year-olds in. Silk doesn’t let me in very often unless Dane allows it. And for some reason, he quit letting me come.”
Dane has apparently seen his little sister dance. Fucking hilarious.
“For some reason?” Maverick asks incredulously in an usually higher octave. “Let’s get you home. Where the hell did you get that dress? Do you know what guys think when you wear something like that? They want more than a conversation.”
She beams at him. “I know. I’m trying to fit in, and most girls my age are engaging in sexual relations. Guys seem to lose interest when I speak, but they enjoy my dancing. With the copious amounts of alcoholic beverages they consume in an establishment such as this, I’m hoping they can overlook my lack of communication skills.”
Corbin pales as Maverick chokes on air. “You’re looking for a booty call?” Maverick squeaks, immediately clearing his throat afterwards. “You can’t do that!”
“Why not? You two do it. I just want the virginal membrane to be torn so that I can honestly tell other girls my age that I’m no longer the ‘Virginal Princess’ they keep referring to me as. It’s not an endearing term if their tones tell me anything. But for some reason, males seem to believe there’s something wrong with me mentally, and they state they won’t take advantage. Or they run away when I tell them I’m Britt Sterling. Perhaps other males are alluding to the fact I may have mental problems. I don’t. I just don’t understand social interaction, but I’m getting better. You know?”
I laugh harder, and poor Allie looks confused as hell.