Dangerous Love

by Casey Clipper

  She shut him up by launching herself at him, taking his face into her hands and kissing him forcibly. Growling, he twisted until she somehow ended up underneath him, his hand sliding up her tee shirt, his tongue touching her tonsils.

  "All right, all right. I'll leave," Kayla said, laughing.

  Derk positioned his muscular thigh snugly between her legs. He ground himself against her. His erection strained through his denim and caused a sizzled friction against her wound-up body through her thin yoga pants. Her hands slid up his firm back, his muscles flexing through his tee. She lightly scratched her stubby nails up his spine and under his longer hair, running her fingers through the dark, thick tresses.

  He grabbed her leg and hitched it over his hip, his hand moved to her breast while his hips gyrated against her. She got lost in him and his sexuality, his desire to have her, his taste, and his showered scent.

  Yanking his mouth away, she opened her eyes to find him staring down at her, his body continuing to slowly move.

  "You're so hot," he rasped.

  Her hips arched, begging for more.

  "Do you want this?" he asked, his voice husky. "Do you want me as bad as I want you?"

  "Yes," she croaked, because she did. Her mind couldn't think properly. Her body ruled her ability for all rational thought.

  The corners of his mouth twitched, obviously pleased with himself and her answer.

  "Bad girl," he whispered. He leaned down and sucked on her ear, his tongue delving into the crevice. "Not now, but you will give yourself to me, M. When I say," he whispered, his warm breath tickling down her neck.

  She moaned in disgust, making him chuckle.

  "So beautiful. Innocent," he said, brushing her hair back and taking her mouth again.

  Finally, something registered in her brain. Innocent. How she loathed that title. "Get. Off. Me!"

  Surprised, he propped up. "What the hell?"

  She bolted off the sofa and straightened her clothes. "I am so sick of men thinking I'm so innocent, naive, and can walk all over me because of it. I'm not," she yelled, desperately trying to hold herself together from outright crying.

  "M, innocent isn't a bad thing. I love it. I told you that," he said.

  "Why?" she demanded.

  "Well, I..."

  She waited, her arms crossed over her breasts, her weight shifted to her right hip.

  "Why?" she demanded again.

  He grinned, as if finding her amusing. "I like to break the innocent ones."

  She blinked. "What does that mean?"

  "Take the good girls and make them bad." He shrugged negligently.

  No idea how she felt about that, she took a retreated step back. Apparently, she was only a game to him. No more. No less. Should she be surprised? No. He saw her as a venture to conquer, then leave.

  Time to dig deeper. "And when you've accomplished your task?"

  He splayed his arms across the back of the sofa casually. "Then we both go our separate ways."

  That stung.

  Why? She had no clue. Except she didn't want to be looked at like a game. Been there, done that, have the stained tee. She wanted to be loved. Loved for who she was and what she was capable of giving a man. She wanted to be able to give a man her entire self and have that man take it, accept it, relish it, cherish it. And vice versa. God, what she wouldn't give to have a man trust her with his true self and be able to love her uncontrollably and unconditionally. Was that really too much to ask? She didn’t think so. She craved that untapped love so badly she could practically taste it.

  But Derk wasn’t that man. She knew it. He might as well have it tattooed across his forehead. What had she been thinking?

  She hadn’t. Another stupid, stupid mistake. But at least this one could be nipped in the bud before it blossomed.

  "Get. Out," she said through gritted teeth.

  He snorted and crossed his ankle over his knee. "I don't think so."

  "Kayla!" she screamed.

  Thank goodness her girlfriend must have been listening closely, because she shot out of the bedroom.

  "Get him out of here," Mackenzie hissed, then stormed off to her bedroom.

  Ten minutes later Kayla knocked softly on her door and opened it. "He's gone. Not happy, but gone." She came into the room and sat. "What happened?"

  "He was honest. I'm a game. A project he wants to change." She sighed, disheartened. "Am I really so undesirable that a man couldn't want me for me? I mean, I know I'm not the smartest, sexiest, thinnest. But I'm not a bitch and I work hard. I take nothing in life for granted. I...I...don't understand," she said and broke down for the first time since finding that jackass she'd married pounding into her neighbor.

  "Oh, honey," Kayla said sympathetically. "You're a terrific catch. Derk is a jerk. Ha! Rhymes. Your ex was a cheating asshole who treated you like garbage. You need a nice guy. A man who appreciates what you have to offer."

  "Yeah, where do I find one of those?"

  Kayla shrugged. "As soon as I find out I'll let you know."

  10

  Man, he fucked up. Derk considered himself a bright guy, but clearly when it came to Mackenzie he had zero deduction skills−though he had never found it necessary to try to figure women out. Mac walked him right into that trap, then sent him packing. Now he sat in his living room pissed and bewildered. Why the fuck did he give a shit if this chick wanted nothing to do with him? He had fifty women on his phone he could call and they'd drop whatever the hell they were doing to blow him, fuck him, or whatever else he desired.

  Running a frustrated hand through his overlong hair, he exhaled a drag off his cigarette. He didn’t need this girl. Woman. Whatever. He picked up his phone and scrolled down to find Claire’s number. Time to move on.

  ***

  Seated in his living room, Derk pulled up more information on Mackenzie, accessing her final divorce documents, and lit another cigarette. No matter what, he couldn’t get her off his mind. Even last night when he had Claire bent over her table and pounded into her body, Mackenzie’s sweet, soft body was beneath his. Was he pissed at her? Yeah, but that didn’t stop the fixation he had over her.

  And that made him irate. He didn’t get all moony over a woman. He didn’t have time for it and refused the hassle. Not only that, he’d seen first hand what a woman would do to a man’s psyche. He vividly remembered his parents’ fucked up marriage. For as far back as he could remember, his mother had been the queen of the mind-fuck. His father had been a man brought to his knees numerous times by his wife. Oh, Derk’s mom was gorgeous. In fact, she could have passed for pre-blonde Marilyn Monroe. He’d inherited his mom’s dark brown eyes and his dad’s coal black hair. His parents had been a model-type couple. But their cohabitation skills sucked. Mom was needy. If Dad got wrapped up in work, she’d do something to drive him insane as a form of punishment for not giving her his undivided attention. Like go out with her single girlfriends to a bar, stumble in the door around three in the morning−minus her wedding rings. Always Dad waited up for her, seething. That last time she’d pulled the stunt was the final straw. If only Dad could have waited a couple weeks until Derk moved out of the house so he hadn't been a first hand witness to the carnage that night.

  Reading over Mackenzie’s file, Derk felt his blood simmer into a slow boil. She’d been screwed. So her admission to having nothing wasn’t a lie. That fucker took everything. Cagey bastard.

  Sighing out a puff of smoke, he recognized he should stay far away from Mac. She was no good. The mere fact she’d been in the foster care system meant she’d be the clingy type. A kind of woman who’d want a commitment, love, a home with a white-picket fence and two point five children. Absolutely nothing he was willing or capable of providing for her.

  Fuck. He’d never get her out of his one-track-mind until he claimed her body, grew tired of the same-old, same-old, then moved on. His MO worked well for him.

  Snuffing out his cig, he shut down his laptop, shoved his
feet into his boots and grabbed his car keys. He was due at the Murphy home in fifteen minutes. Time to answer for tossing Murphy’s two men out of his house.

  ***

  When Derk stepped into the Murphy mansion, he was blasted in the shin by a two and a half year old little monster who clung to his leg like a leech. Why the hell hadn’t the mannies taken care of this awful habit yet? The kid started doing this months ago, and Mrs. Murphy had taken a header down the attic steps and received a gash to the back of her head. Talk about a dramatic scene. Derk could still see the gory scene of Courtney’s light blonde hair soaked with blood while Mr. Murphy held her in his arms as an ambulance was called. The open wound on her head had required staples. Stupid kid. A perfect reason why he never intended to reproduce.

  “Daniel,” a feminine voice scolded. “Let go of his leg immediately.”

  At least the kid listened. That was a change.

  Daniel released his leg, took off running down the long hallway and disappeared into the kitchen that was located to the left. Courtney Murphy glided down the stairs, stunning in a pale blue shift dress.

  “Sorry, Derk,” she said softly as she approached, leaned up and greeted him with a kiss on the cheek. He respectfully kissed her in return. Now, Mrs. M, she was a woman. A woman a man could, would, and should lose his mind over. Nothing but class, charm, and loyal to a fault. She was the epitome of what was expected from a wife whose husband ruled the largest crime ring in the Northeast.

  “Twerp is getting stronger,” he murmured.

  She rolled her eyes. “Tell me about it. He’s becoming aggressive too. Last night I was wrestling around with him and he punched me in the mouth. Needless to say, Derrick isn’t happy, and poor Russ and Jarrett were on the receiving end of his ire.”

  When he pulled back, it was then he noticed her swollen lip. Man, her two year old was really putting a beating on her. Someone better do something soon because the kid was out of control.

  “He’s outside with Smith,” Courtney said, anticipating his next question.

  “Thanks, Mrs. M.” He strolled down the long hallway, his boots echoing off the dark grey pristine ceramic tile floor. When he stepped onto the deck, Mr. Murphy, along with Derk’s usual partner-in-crime, Smith, glanced up.

  “Derk.” Murphy nodded.

  “Mr. Murphy.” He walked over and plopped down next to Smith. “Saw Mrs. M’s lip.”

  Derk watched the man’s eyes flash black. “He’s only aggressive with Courtney. Caitlin he doesn’t touch. Without a doubt my daughter would hit back. She doesn’t tolerate much from her little brother. It’s as if he knows Court won’t do a damn thing about it.”

  “What’s she supposed to do?” Derk challenged. Wasn’t it Murphy’s job to correct his son’s behavior?

  Right before him, Derk watched Mr. Murphy’s features change to a sinister mask. Ooookay, maybe he pushed that comment a bit too far.

  “Watch. Your. Self,” Murphy said, low and dangerously.

  Normally Derk didn’t apologize. Never had. To anyone. Not his style. Of course he was rarely wrong to concede, and he refused to apologize for his personality trait of tell-it-like-he-saw-it. But he was able to recognize when he crossed a line. And he had this time. He held up his hands, leaned further back in the chair, and propped his long legs on the table. “I’m not saying a word. Just concerned for Mrs. M. Don’t like seeing her marked up.”

  Murphy’s features transformed just as quickly to form a regardful study. He remained silent for a moment. Probably remembering Derk had been around when Mrs. Murphy had been beaten to bloody hell by a douche bag before she ever became Murphy property.

  Murphy nodded and the subject was dropped. It was easy to get on the man’s good side. Though most people didn’t know how. Derk did. Respect and admire Courtney, who was Murphy’s beating heart. Well, that is if he had a heart. If Murphy did, Mrs. M must have it stashed away somewhere in a closet because Murphy was as cold as ice.

  The three men went into business mode for about twenty minutes. Derk gave an update on the Joey situation, having recouped the money owed to Mr. Murphy’s Eastern territory leader. Today he was to accompany Murphy to a meeting for a deal that opened a door for the man to work his way into the South. Talk about reaching to the four corners of the country.

  As they finished their discussion on the agenda, the sliding glass door flew open, and Murphy's two children bolted out of the house, across the deck, and down the steps to the backyard.

  “Hi Daddy, Smith, Derk,” Caitlin yelled on her dash past them, Daniel quick on her heels.

  Their mannies, Russ and Jarrett, casually followed. Tagging along behind them was Lynn, Russ's sister. She cradled her soon-to-be stepson, Brady, in her arms.

  "Well, if it isn't L-Y-N-N," Derk teased. Their interaction consisted of nothing but barbs. He loved it.

  She rolled those gorgeous hazel eyes, but she didn't fool him. Those peepers shined with humor.

  "Great. Jackass−present and accounted for," she said as she made her way down the steps.

  "You know you love me, sweetheart," he called after her.

  "As much as a cold sore," she quipped over her shoulder.

  He chuckled. Man Lynn was a hoot. Too bad she was head-over-heels for Mrs. Murphy's cousin, Ryan.

  "Heard her daycare business is taking off," Derk said, pulling his cigarettes out of his jeans and lighting up. Murphy despised the habit but he didn't argue too much when they were outdoors.

  "It is." Mr. Murphy nodded.

  Derk didn't miss the underlying tone of displeasure. He glanced at the man and cocked a brow. Naturally, Murphy didn't elaborate. Never did. He only stared back at him with those dark, soulless eyes. But Derk could guess. Lynn didn't borrow money from Murphy to open the daycare. Therefore, Murphy couldn't hold the loan over Lynn and Ryan's heads as a way to ensure they stayed in Courtney's life. Since both her beloved cousins found women to spend the rest of their lives with, they retreated from Courtney's life because of Mr. Murphy's far-from-legal earnings. That devastated Mrs. Murphy. Derk didn't know what was in the water across town at the Millen home, but he wanted none of it if it turned a man into a pansy-ass woman slave.

  On cue, Courtney stepped out onto the deck. Murphy's eyes brightened slightly and he grinned. Her amazing blue eyes never left her husband's hungry gaze. She went straight to him and elegantly slid into the seat beside him.

  "I love the blue," Murphy said low and appreciatively.

  "Thank you," she said softly as Mr. Murphy kissed her lightly on her lips.

  Smith silently left his seat to give the couple their privacy. Derk tried to keep his noise level down but he'd never been the strong silent type, like his partner.

  Derk pulled out his cell. It took every bit of self-control not to contact Mackenzie. Hanging around the in-love Murphys could do that to you. Make a man consider what he was missing in his life. That his world could be considered empty. That waking up in a cold bed most mornings wasn’t exactly fulfilling for a thirty-five year old man.

  Fuck that shit.

  He dialed Claire.

  "Hey, baby," she answered on the second ring.

  "I'll be over around ten." He disconnected before she said a word. Not that Claire would ever deny him. She was a sure thing.

  Why the fuck did that not rile him up like it used to?

  11

  Derk never showed back up to take Mackenzie to work. Part of her felt a twinge of disappointment. All that managed to do was confirm he truly wasn't interested in her. Only her body. So she spent the night pouring herself into her work, which was easy since her section of the bar remained busy throughout the evening. Apparently, the bar flies picked up on the fact the sexy bartenders worked designated areas, so the patrons conveniently positioned themselves according to their preferences.

  Around one in the morning, Derk’s friend from the other night appeared in Kayla’s section. The thinning crowd sent Kayla packing early.

 
“I’m going to head home, call me when you're finished so I can come and get you,” Kayla said to her on her way out the door.

  “Okay,” she called back.

  While Mackenzie cleaned a bit, she kept a close eye on her customers and noted Derk’s friend needed a refill.

  “Another?” she asked.

  He nodded.

  She slid the beer in front of him then leaned on the wood bar. “I’m Mackenzie.”

  He gave her a once over. “Smith.”

  She smiled. “Nice to meet you. Derk’s friend, yes?”

  He shrugged.

  Well, so much for conversation. Most men that wandered into the bar relished one of the bartender's undivided attention. Guess he wasn't one of those. Maybe he was gay? She started to wipe down the liquor bottles, then glanced his direction, again. All right, so he's hetero. She caught him eyeing, Dana, the bar's other token bleach blonde goddess, with a glazed over look like he wanted to devour her.

  She left him to finish his beer in peace and drool. For another half an hour, she worked diligently to prepare the bar to close. She noted Smith had left twenty minutes ago and left her a twenty as a tip. Wow.

  Finally, at the end of the night and after everything was closed up, she called Kayla to pick her up, but her girlfriend never answered her cell. That forced Mackenzie to take a seat on the bus stop bench.

  Déjà vu?

  She tried Kayla’s number numerous times but got nothing. Everyone else left for the night. Most of the employees pulled out of the parking lot thirty minutes ago, including her manager.

  Mackenzie felt tears sting her eyes but refused to allow them to fall. How had she gotten to this soul-crushing point in her life? Seated on a bench in the early morning hours, no car, no ride home, no saved money, no husband. How pathetic.

  She remained glued to the bench. If she had to sit all night, she would. Never again would she attempt to walk home alone.

  Lost in her own form of misery, she was frightened beyond comprehension by a hand placed on her shoulder. She screamed bloody murder until she processed Smith stood behind her.