Crazy Sexy Notion

by Sarah Darlington

  “Is that so?” I automatically hated this woman, since she was Mickey’s ex, and I enjoyed fucking with her.

  Her eyes narrowed at me. Oh, she definitely knew the sweater was hers. Her eyes drifted to my pants for a quick second. Yep, honey, these are yours too. But she didn’t comment on the clothes. She remained calm and collected. “Well, I won’t get in the way of your cleaning. I just came by to pick something up, and then I’ll be on my way.”

  Over my dead body.

  Sandra left the foyer and moved into the dining room. I quickly followed. She walked a full loop around the room, searching for something but picking nothing up. “Have you seen a vase?” she asked me. “It used to be in the room. It was big—hard to miss. Did you move it while you were cleaning?”

  I actually had seen a vase—under the sink in the kitchen. I’d thought it was a weird spot for such a large, expensive looking thing, but at the time I hadn’t questioned it. Now that she mentioned, I think I’d heard Mickey talking on the phone to someone about a vase. “No idea what you’re talking about?”

  She rolled her eyes, walking toward me. I stood in her direct path. “Listen, Cleaning Lady, I think you know exactly what I’m talking about.”

  “Actually.” I pretended to think for a moment. “Mickey did have me sell a vase last week on eBay. It went for a couple hundred dollars. He also had me sell a shit-ton of clothes some woman left behind at his house. I kept this sweater, though—since Mickey said it looked better on me than it did on his ex.”

  A vein in her forehead became visible. Her checks went from white to turn cherry red. “You’re lying. No one calls your employer Mickey and that vase is worth close to forty grand.”

  Holy Mother of Vases! Forty grand and he had it under the sink! He needed that thing in a fireproof lockbox, up in the attic, with a guard dog, and booby traps to block out any thieves—like the one in front of me. No wonder she wanted it. She’d probably been staked out in front of his house waiting for him to leave. That vase was worth more than all the possessions I’d ever owned in my life put together.

  “Newsflash,” I told the trespasser, pushing up the sleeves to my sweater. “Mickey is not my employer.”

  One of her pretty blue eyes twitched. She took a step closer to me. “More lies. He’d never date someone like you. He told me on several occasions that—A, he prefers blondes and B, he thinks tattoos on women are gross.” She gestured to the tattoos on my right arm. “Complete turn off for him. Trust me, I know him very well.”

  I’d always considered myself pretty tough skinned, especially when it came to dealing with mean-girl bitches like the one in front of me, but her words cut more than expected. I loved the mixture of roses, thorns, a random pocket watch, all swirling around a hidden baby footprint of Samantha’s on the upper half of my arm. And Mickey could go fuck himself if he didn’t love them, too. They were part of me.

  In my toughest voice I told the woman, “You need to leave before I make you leave.” I’d had enough of this.

  She lunged at me. Oh, crap. I hadn’t really expected it. I figured this woman was all talk, little action. But she grabbed both of my legs, locking her hands around them, and she drove into me with her small but powerful shoulders. My body slammed to the ground, cracking against Mickey’s hardwood floors. Fuck—it hurt. Her move knocked the air from lungs and before I had time to process she was on top of me, pinning me to the floor. Oh my god, and I thought I was the scrappy trailer park girl here. She squeezed her tiny hands around my neck.

  As a rape victim, this was not a position I ever wanted to find myself in—even if the attacker was another woman. It stirred memories I preferred to keep locked away in some dark corner of my mind. But in the fifteen years since my attack, I’d learned a move or two—taught to me by Frank, the wannabe private detective who lived in my trailer park, who also happened to be a former Marine.

  Take out the posts.

  I squeezed my hands around one of her arms, disabling it and pulling it in against my chest. One post down. I locked my leg around one of her legs, the one parallel to the arm I already had in my grasp, pinning her leg in. Two posts down. Now that she was unstable, I rolled. Frank’s training worked! We rolled together and in a split second I became the woman on top. Now I had the control. Now I knew I needed to act fast and attack. I jabbed her in the throat. Then I kneed her in the groan. She didn’t have a penis, but my moves were still effective. I left her choking and curled in a ball.

  With a gasp, I jumped to my feet and ran for the archway that led to the kitchen. I needed the phone to call the police. Instead of making it to the phone, I ran smack into Mickey’s hard chest. I hadn’t heard him come in.

  “Ouch, dammit.” I’d hit his chest pretty hard with the side of my face, and I nearly fell backward in reaction.

  He grabbed my shoulders to steady me. “What’s going on?” His blue eyes were fierce and protective. His automatic concern kind of surprising me.

  “Sandra. Dining room. Vase.” I bit the words out.

  His body tensed. Something unfamiliar settled over him. A tightness on his face. A clinch in his jaw. An air of icy coldness. Reactions, I guess, I’d never seen in Mickey.

  “Stay here,” he ordered and started to stalk off toward the dining room.

  “Oh hell no.” I followed after him. “Where’s Samantha?”

  “In the car with Nick—“

  We came into the dining room. Sandra was where I’d left her. Only, she’d stood to her feet. She rubbed at her neck, but otherwise seemed unaffected by my counter attack.

  Upon seeing Mickey, Sandra cleared her throat. “You’re really scraping the bottom of the barrel these days.” Um? I take it she meant me. “But then again I guess rebound girls aren’t supposed to be special.”

  “You,” Mickey told her, “and every other woman in the time since I’ve been apart from Raven have been rebound girls. She’s the only thing special I’ve ever loved. Get the fuck out my house, Sandra.”

  Wow. His words were so intense that they gave my arms a spattering of goosebumps. Did he really mean that? He’d been carrying feelings for me for all these years?

  Unaffected, Sandra didn’t budge. “You know…I picked out these curtains.” She pointed at the very neutral colored drapes. I should have known. “And this rug.” Also brown. “I arranged the china in the cabinet. Your late grandma’s china. The grandma that died while we were together. Remember, how I held your hand through her funeral. That grandma.”

  “I don’t know what you’re getting at, Sandra,” Mickey grunted. The tension rolled off him in waves. I could tell he was losing patience. I’d lost it about ten minutes ago. “We broke up. It’s over. Could you please just get the fuck out? Don’t make me ask a third time.”

  “Give me the vase and you’ll never hear from me again.”

  “Fine.” Mickey didn’t hesitate in the least, automatically giving in.

  “And I want my fucking sweater back,” she said to me.

  I couldn’t stand silence another second. “Woah. Woah. Woah. Hold the front door.” My arms went up in shock. Not about the sweater. I didn’t need this sweater. In fact—I yanked the sweater off and flung it in Sandra’s direction. I stood there in only my black lace bra. But, hell, I was hardly modest. My real concern was Mickey’s easy compliance. Under no circumstances did I think he should give her the vase. The money wasn’t my issue. It could be some ten dollar flee market find and I still wouldn’t have wanted him to give it to her.

  I took his hand tight in my hand, standing on my toes, and I whispered hurriedly in his ear. “Do not give her the vase—on principle alone. I don’t care if she stalks and haunts us forever. Do not give it to her.”

  “Us?” he repeated, staring down at me. The only word he seemed to take away.

  “Yeah. Us.”

  I don’t know when, where, or how—but I guess we were an ‘us’ now. I hadn’t been an ‘us’ with anyone for real in my life. A wave of heat
ran through me. It scared the hell out of me, but kind of in the best way.

  “Sorry. Never mind, Sandra.” Mickey surprised me by automatically taking my advice. “You’re not getting the vase. I paid for it. Possession is nine tenths of the law, or something like that, and hell could freeze over before I gave it to you. So, one more time, get the fuck out.”

  “Uh! Oh my God! Mick—why do you have to be so difficult?” she huffed. “This is so far from over.” But finally, with the gray sweater clutched tight in her hand, Sandra got the fuck out.

  CHAPTER 19:

  MICK

  Today was the longest, weirdest day, and I was so thankful when it finally ended. This month I only had one day off—seriously, one fucking day. And it kind of blew that it had to be spent dealing with my brother’s issues and Sandra’s craziness. But on the other hand, I think I’d made some sort of progress with Raven. So all wasn’t lost.

  I laid in bed, watching the Red Socks game, doing my best to stay off my foot while also waiting on Raven, waiting to see where she would sleep tonight. I’d offered to move Nick to the couch bed in the living room. She’d told me not to. But it was nearing the bottom of the ninth and she still hadn’t come to bed.

  Finally, the door to my room clicked open. Raven soundlessly came in, shutting the door behind her. Her eyes were on me, yet she said nothing. Shit, my heart picked up speed and a few butterflies made a quick home inside my stomach. I sat up, clicking off the game. The game was tied and probably going to go into extra innings, but I hardly cared.

  After Raven had epically flung Sandra’s sweater at her, she’d replaced it with one of the shirts from my closet. Once again wearing anything but her own stuff. If she needed more clothes, first chance I was going to take her shopping.

  I cleared my throat. “Hey.”

  “Hey.” She spoke softly. “I’m going to get ready for bed.”

  “Okay.” I swallowed hard, watching her disappear into my bathroom. I’d never been this ‘nail-biting, seeing-spot, what-the-hell-is-wrong-with-me’ nervous before. My heart now felt like it might explode. I had no idea where this night might lead. I had no idea if Raven wanted it to lead somewhere or wanted me to back off. If she was angry with me, still hated my guts, or if she simply wanted me in all the same ways I wanted her. Unable to remain still a second longer, I got out of bed and followed her into the bathroom.

  Inside I caught her brushing her teeth.

  Her eyes narrowed in the mirror as I came in, but she kept brushing. Digging through the towels in the closet beside the sink, I pretended to look for something. But mostly I just looked like an idiot standing there. She finished brushing, and I realizing I could be useful so I handed over a hand-towel for her to dry her mouth on.

  “What are you doing?” she asked, taking the towel from me. “You’re hovering.”

  I was. I knew I was.

  “Mickey?”

  “Sorry. I need to brush my teeth, too. Do you mind?” I’d already brushed them, but I lied because I needed some reason to be in here.

  She moved aside.

  I stepped in her place and picked up my toothbrush. Through the mirror she watched me—her stare intense.

  The moment I had a mouthful of toothpaste she surprised me by asking, “Do you prefer blondes?”

  “No,” I mumbled. “Why would you ask that?”

  “Just curious.” A hint of pink touched her cheeks.

  “Well—” I spit out the toothpaste and cupped some water with my hand to rinse. When I finished I revised my statement. “Yeah, actually, I always thought I preferred blondes.”

  She breathed out, and if I wasn’t mistaken she sounded frustrated. “What about tattoos? What are your thoughts on them?”

  I’d never known Raven to be insecure like this. Or jealous possibly. Sandra must have said something to her before I got home. Which made me want to strangle Sandra all over again, but it also gave me an opportunity here. “In general I hate them, yeah.” I took the towel from her, drying my mouth. Then I tossed it in the sink and turned around, leaning against the counter. “You’re worried what I think.”

  She shook her head, crossing her arms. “I’m not worried.”

  “It’s cute.”

  “It’s not cute. My tattoos are part of me—I can’t be with someone who barely tolerates them.”

  Frustrated and riled Raven, especially because she was vexed by a simple misunderstanding about me, had to be the sexiest thing. A new energy coursed through me. I couldn’t stop myself from moving closer to her and smiling. It had been ages since the one time I’d been inside her. There was mountains of shit and issues between us, none of the stuff she’d told me earlier in the day forgotten, but I suddenly knew exactly where this night was heading and I couldn’t have been happier.

  “Stop smiling that cocky grin at me,” she started. “I’m being serious. You—”

  I stopped her words when I wrapped my arms around the small of her waist, pulling her body in against me, burying my face in the nook of her neck, breathing in the scent of her, and giving her a few kisses against her soft skin.

  Holy fuck shit, holding her felt like home and relief all mixed up as one.

  Her breathing changed. “What are you doing?” Her words were softer now.

  “I’m going to make you come so many times tonight you’re going to beg me to stop.”

  “What?” she whined. “Mickey. I’m trying to have a serious conversation here.”

  “So am I.” I did not stop kissing her neck. Now that I’d started it was hard to stop. After a second, a soft moan left her lips and I felt her body melt into me. There we go. My hands found their way to the bottom of her shirt, the tips of my fingers tracing across the bare skin of her stomach for a mere moment before I yanked the shirt up over her head. I flung it aside, lost somewhere in my bathroom.

  Now that I’d revealed what was underneath, I bent to kiss the jet-black ink on her shoulder. “You know who was blonde with clear skin...you.” I said the words against her skin before pulling back to look her in the eyes. “I think my whole life I’ve been chasing some perceived version of you in the women I’ve dated. Obviously, I’ve had shitty luck in love. But now I know that’s because I’ve been chasing the wrong thing all these years.”

  She groaned, staring back at me. “I’m nothing like the little girl I used to be.”

  “I know. I’ve known that since the moment I knocked on your door in Pecan. I don’t want some imaginary image of who I thought you’d be. I want the woman you are. If Sandra ever tries to get in your head again, because she’s manipulative like that, you can tell her that I have a thing for brunettes and tattoos now. Because I do.”

  She shook her head. I couldn’t figure out what it was that was holding her back—but something was. Hell, maybe she still hated my ever-loving guts and always would.

  “Let’s go to bed. I’ll keep my distance if you want.” With a sigh, I started for the bathroom door.

  Her hand caught mine before I could leave the bathroom, pulling me back. “No,” she whispered. And before I had a chance to process what was happening she grabbed hold of my face and pressed her lush lips to mine. An exhilarating shudder rocked through me. Time froze. Her lips were warm, inviting, and the rush of relief I felt in her kiss was surreal. I breathed her in, savoring the minty taste of her mouth against mine, loving the feel of body tucked safely in my arms, enjoying the way my heart felt like it literally might explode.

  This kiss was everything. Everything I felt—she seemed to be feeling it too. It confirmed that I wasn’t bat-shit crazy. That my original notion about wanting to bring her home with me wasn’t so insane after all.

  And then she shocked the hell of me when she broke her lips from mine and dropped to her knees on the tile floor in front of me.

  I swallowed hard. Fuck me.

  My heart beat like wild. She tugged at the top edge of my drawstring sweat, pulling the material down, releasing my cock from the confi
nes of my pants. In the mere moments we’d been kissing I’d grown fully hard. But now my erection became downright painful, as I was in awe of her boldness, in love with the way her green eyes looked staring up at me, lost in her, waiting to see what she’d do next.

  She placed a single kiss against the swollen head of my dick. Her kiss provoked a playful smile that crept across her lips.

  “What’s that smile for?” I asked.

  “You have a beautiful cock.”

  “What?” I rasped as she gently stroked her hand up and down my shaft.

  “I’m picky,” she clarified. “And it’s perfection. Never mind.”

  She shook her head, laughing off her comment, before sliding her tongue in a circle around the crown of my cock. “Oh…God. Fuck, Raven,” I swore, pulling my hands through my hair, tugging at the silky, soft strands as I watched her. She kept up the motion—her playful torture session was just downright mean. I ached for her to take more of me in her mouth. And when I thought I might burst from the anticipation of it all, she opened her mouth and took me inside.

  I nearly came right then and there. This, had to be what heaven felt like. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t think past the way her hot, wet mouth felt moving against my extra sensitive skin.

  But I couldn’t let her finish. Not before I made good on my earlier promise. “Stop. Sweetheart.” My throat was scratchier than ever before. “I need to be inside you—now.”

  She stopped, letting my cock free from her mouth with a small ‘pop.’

  I took her hand in mine, pulling her to her feet, leading her out of the bathroom, and straight to my bed.

  CHAPTER 20:

  RAVEN

  Mickey’s eyes were raw and primal as he pushed me down on the bed. I’d unleashed something fierce in him, something I hadn’t seen in him the first time we’d fucked. Whatever it was it couldn’t be controlled, or tamed, and if it was coming from anyone else I might not have liked it. But because it was him I wasn’t afraid, only excited. With him I felt this safety that I’d never experienced with another person, this tranquility, this trust. I had my issues with sex, maybe I always would, but in this moment, same as our first time, they faded away.