by Marni Mann
Just because she worked with us didn’t mean I wanted to spend my downtime with her. I hardly got any time off. My musicians were as high maintenance as Brett’s actors. So, when I wasn’t working, I wanted to relax and chill with my buddies.
Looking at some dresses wasn’t that.
What it sounded like was fucking hell.
“And what am I?” I asked him, unsure of why he couldn’t go to her place by himself. “A chaperone?”
“You’re the fourth wheel.”
I shook my head. “Not interested.”
“Her stylist is hot as fuck. Trust me, brother.”
Brett and I had the same taste in women. If he said she was hot as fuck, then I knew she must really be something to look at.
My feet slid off the cushion and dropped to the floor. “Now, I’m interested.” I stood, taking the pizza boxes out of his hand, so he could carry the beer, and I followed him to the elevator. “It surprises me that you let the realtor move James into your building.”
Jack and Scarlett, our other two business partners and best friends, also lived in downtown Miami high-rises. But not me. I didn’t want to share walls or risk the chance of running into a client or an ex in the lobby. My fucking luck, I’d end up living above someone I’d dated, and I’d have to see her every goddamn morning at the gym.
That shit wasn’t for me.
So, I’d bought a house on the water that was only a few minutes away. I didn’t have a hell of a lot of land, but I had a direct view of Biscayne Bay that was prettier than any of those fuckers had.
“Why?” he asked.
“You won’t even bring the women you fuck back to your place because you don’t want them to know where you live, but you’ll let James be a neighbor.”
“It’s different.”
I laughed as we stepped into the elevator, Brett hitting the button for James’s floor.
“What’s so funny?”
He’d forgotten we’d practically been brothers since we were kids. All these years later, and I could still see right through him.
“Something tells me you didn’t mind running into her.”
“Jesus, don’t start with me.”
I continued laughing and shook my head. “I’m not starting shit. I’m just saying, if a girl who looked like James lived by me, I wouldn’t exactly be pissed off about it. But you’re not me, and going down to her apartment isn’t you.”
“She’s my client.”
“So, that makes this different? If anything, it should make it worse.”
“It makes her off-limits,” he snapped. “We’re going to her place to see some dresses. That’s it.”
He was getting worked up, proving my point even further, and that only made me laugh harder.
“Something you could do in the office,” I said.
“You’re fucking starting again.”
“And, now, I’m dropping it.”
Brett moved, so I couldn’t see his face. He’d done that on purpose, which was the final bit of proof I needed.
Damn it, I loved it when I was right.
Eventually, he’d admit it since he sucked at keeping secrets from me.
We stepped out of the elevator and walked down the hall. When we reached the apartment, Brett knocked on the door, but James wasn’t the one who answered it.
Jesus fucking Christ.
The chick standing in front of us was the hottest woman I’d ever seen. And that wasn’t something I said often, considering I worked in the music industry and was surrounded by the most beautiful women in the world.
Brett said hello to her, and then he immediately walked into the apartment.
I didn’t.
I stayed right where I was, not wanting to move a goddamn inch unless it was to get closer to her. I lifted my hand off the bottom of the pizza boxes and held it out. “Max Graham,” I said.
As she shook it, I felt the lightness of her grip, the softness of her skin, the heat that poured through her fingers.
“Eve Kennedy, James’s stylist.”
She was too gorgeous to be a stylist. She should act or model or stand naked in my office, so I could look at her every moment of the fucking day.
“Brett and I are partners,” I told her in case she thought I was the pizza delivery boy.
“Do you represent actors like Brett?”
“Nah, I work with musicians.”
Her brows rose, and I could tell she was intrigued. “Really? I need to hear more about this. I’m a music junkie.”
“How about you invite me in first?”
“Oh my God, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to keep you standing in the hallway with food. Come in, please.”
Once I got inside, I set the pizzas on the table, and I grabbed a beer that Brett had put in the fridge.
“James will be right out,” Eve said to him. “She wanted to take a quick shower before she tried anything on.”
I held the pizza box open for Eve. After she took a slice, I got one for myself, and then the three of us went into the living room. Brett and I sat on the couch, and Eve took a spot on the ottoman.
“I spoke to your team and kept their recommendations in mind when choosing each dress,” Eve said to Brett, now in full business mode. “Several are black, but more than half are in jewel tones, which look incredible with James’s skin tone…”
I stopped listening.
I wasn’t interested in their conversation.
Instead, my mind was picturing Eve in the shower with water dripping down her skin. Her long, lean legs spread just enough that I could see underneath her pussy, her C-sized tits having the hardest fucking nipples.
When I realized she had caught me staring at her, I wedged the beer between my knees and took a bite of my slice. “When does the fashion show start?”
“Right now,” James said.
I looked in James’s direction but only for a few seconds because my gaze was being dragged back to Eve. She was speaking to Brett about the dress James had on, and I was watching the way her lips moved. How her tongue casually licked the inside corner of her mouth. How her eyes had turned so serious.
I wondered what her expression would be if I told her where I wanted to put my tongue.
“So, what do you think?” Eve asked Brett.
“It’s good,” Brett said. “Let’s see the next one.”
Neither of the ladies knew Brett like I did, so they had no idea he was doing everything in his power not to toss James over his shoulder and carry her to the closest bed. But his face and his voice told me how hard he was fighting that urge.
I wasn’t too far behind him.
This fashion show needed to end. I was more interested in spending time with Eve than watching James put on these fucking dresses.
“How many will she be trying on?” I asked.
“Twelve,” Eve said.
That meant we had eleven more to go.
The only good thing about this situation was that Eve’s attention would be on James, and that meant my attention could be on her.
And that was what I planned to do the whole time my ass was on this couch—memorize every inch of her, every twitch of her lips, every freckle I was able to see.
Finishing off my slice of pizza, I grabbed my beer, kicked my legs onto the ottoman not far from where Eve was sitting and said, “Looks like we’re going to be here for a while, so I might as well get comfortable.”
“Tell me some music dirt,” Eve said, smiling at me, as the two of us stood on the balcony outside James’s apartment. “I’ve only ever worked with actors. I’m so out of the know when it comes to your industry.”
Once James had finished trying on all the outfits, I’d gone out to get some air, trying to calm my fucking cock. It had been hard since dress two. The smirk Eve had given me during dress eight had me gripping the goddamn armrest of the couch, so she wouldn’t find herself tossed over my fucking shoulder and stripped naked on the way to a bedroom.
S
he shifted positions, looking at me from the corners of her eyes, and it sent me her smell. It reminded me of a New England summer night that had hints of orange and leaves.
Those were some of my favorite scents.
Fuck.
I glanced away for a second, and then I turned toward her again, catching the tail end of her grin. “What do you want to know?”
“Who doesn’t write their own lyrics? Who lip-syncs? You know…the dirt.”
Even her voice was sexy.
It was a little raspy, like she’d been screaming from all the things my tongue was doing to her cunt.
“You’re asking the wrong person,” I said.
“No, I think I’m asking the right one. Something tells me you just need a little incentive to spill.”
I heard the door slide open, and Brett stuck his head through the opening. “I’m going to head up.”
“I’ll be there in a little while,” I told him.
Once the glass was closed, my eyes went back to Eve’s lips and the long piece of dark hair hanging down next to it. The strands were caught in her gloss, and it took everything I had not to move them. “What kind of incentive?”
The smile was back.
It was even larger now.
In the time I’d spent in this apartment, Eve had shown me she wasn’t shy or timid at all. She was smart. Witty. And she had one hell of a mouth on her.
Before she could respond to my question, she needed to know something about me.
“I’m a forward kind of guy. I say what I want, and I rarely use a filter. In other words, I don’t fuck around. So, just be straight up with me.”
“I don’t fuck around either.”
Finally, it sounded like I’d met my match.
“Tell me what’s on your mind,” she continued.
I gently gripped her waist. If I pulled her any closer, she’d be able to feel my cock, so I kept her a few inches away, but I leaned into her ear, so I could whisper what was on my mind.
I knew she wanted the same thing because her body tightened.
Her neck tilted back, giving me more skin to breathe against.
She sighed into the hot Miami air.
Before this night was over, this body was going to be mine.
Sneak Peek of Wild Aces
Trapper - Seventeen Years Ago
Blood. I tasted it. I didn’t know if it was coming from a tooth getting knocked loose or if it was dripping from my sinuses. But my nose was definitely banged up pretty badly. My lip was busted open, and my mouth was aching from the inside.
“You little fucking pig,” I heard.
I wanted to cover my ears, so I wouldn’t have to listen to him anymore, but I couldn’t. I had to rub all the spots he’d kicked and try to make them feel better. This time, the spot was the back of my thigh. Man, it’d hurt so much when he stomped on it. My whole leg tightened, pain shooting all the way to my ankle. I pushed my shoulders back, trying to stretch out my body, and that was when he kicked me in the butt, right between my cheeks so that it felt like he was splitting my ass open.
“What did I tell you about Gracie?” he shouted. “She’s off-limits to your fingers and to your goddamn fucking eyes.”
Another kick—this time, in my side.
Craaaack.
I screamed. I couldn’t bear the pain. The noise told me he’d broken my rib, and it wasn’t the first time. I knew what it would feel like, how hard it would be to breathe.
He kicked me again, a few inches lower. Same feeling, same craaaack, same scream shooting out of my mouth. Small silvery stars flashed in front of my eyes as sweat covered my skin.
I knew what was coming next. It always happened when the pain was that bad.
I clawed my way forward just to get away from him. He followed me, stomping on my calf, as I threw up. All that came out was blood. My breakfast was long gone, and he hadn’t fed me dinner. He’d said there wasn’t enough food to go around.
But he’d eaten. They all had.
Everyone but me.
The blood coming out of my mouth didn’t make him stop. It seemed to make him kick harder—the back of my other leg, this time.
“Watching your foster sister get ready in the bathroom? What kind of fucking pig are you?”
But I hadn’t been watching her. Gracie wasn’t even home tonight. I had been down in the basement where I slept on a mattress on the dirt floor, looking at one of the magazines I’d stolen from under his bed. There was no use telling him that, or any of them, the ones who’d blamed me for things in the past. I was always being accused of something I hadn’t done. But you wouldn’t know I was innocent by looking at my body. And when I remembered how they’d treated me, I almost didn’t know it myself.
He wasn’t beating me because he thought I had been looking at Gracie. He was beating me because he could. Because I needed his house and his food and his so-called care. Because I wouldn’t fight back.
“Gracie ain’t like one of those girls in those magazines you like to beat off to,” he said. “She’s going to graduate this year and make something of herself and put me up in a real nice house. She doesn’t need little boys like you gawking at her, rubbing your little dicks, hoping she’ll come over and straddle you.”
The dirt on the basement floor covered my lips and the inside of my mouth. When I spit it out, it was covered in blood. More blood.
Smaaaaack.
The sole of his boot slammed against my shoulder, and he dragged it down the top of my arm. It burned, like I’d slid along some sharp rocks. “I can’t let your little dick get near Gracie again.”
Again? I’d only seen Gracie twice. Both times, she had been sitting at the table with her parents and her little sister, eating dinner. Both times, I had been told there wasn’t enough food for me, and I’d been sent back down to the basement.
“You hear what I said?”
He was screaming at me. I had no choice but to hear. And because I’d heard this all before, from men just as mean and cruel as him, I knew what was coming next.
He was going to kick me out.
Out of another house.
“Get your shit, and get the fuck out.” His boot pressed down onto the middle of my back, and he laughed. “I forgot; you don’t have any shit. So, in that case, just get the fuck out.” He put all his weight on my back and stepped over me.
I slowly rolled over in the dirt. Everything ached; everything stung. Almost everything I was wearing had blood splatter or stains on it. This was going to be the last time he saw me, so I couldn’t leave here all hunched over and yelling about how much he’d hurt me. That would mean he’d won, and I didn’t want him to think that. But, man, I was full of pain when I stood up. My cracked ribs made it almost impossible for me to straighten my back.
“You think you’re a tough boy, huh?”
There were only a few feet between him and the stairs. I just wanted to get out of there. Fighting back or mouthing off might only make things worse for me.
“Aren’t you gonna answer me, boy?”
I kept my eyes on the ground and shrugged. Even that hurt.
When he took a step closer, I sucked in the deepest breath I could take, preparing myself for what part of my body he would break next. I didn’t flinch, didn’t cover myself or cower. I stood up straight, and I waited.
“That’s right; keep your fucking eyes to the ground. You don’t deserve to look at me.”
He was standing over me now. I could feel his hatred and evil. I could smell his nasty odor—cigarettes and sweat and something fishy.
“You don’t even deserve my fist again.”
He cleared his throat, like something was stuck in it, and coughed whatever it was into his mouth. I could hear it swishing around his tongue. And then he smiled…just before he spit it on me. A thick glob hit my eye and dripped down my nose and over my lips.
“Get the fuck out of my house.”
I hobbled as fast as I could up the stairs and thro
ugh the front door. The puddles on the sidewalk soaked through the holes in my sneakers and made my socks wet. My jeans hung too low on my waist, so I tripped over the bottoms. My knees bent, and my hands shot out to catch me. I screamed from the pain in my ribs as I fell. I cradled my arms around them, picked myself back up, and kept on going.
I cut through the park, knowing a payphone was just on the other side. I saw it once I got past the slide, all silver and shiny under the streetlight. When I reached it, I hugged it and tried to catch my breath. The back of my throat was burning. When I spit, there was more blood—not as much as when I had thrown up, but it was there. My skin stung, like I’d poured alcohol on the scrapes and cuts.
I reached into my pocket for a quarter. It was the only money I had.
I hoped Adrianna would answer.
“Hello?”
Oh, man, it was such a relief to hear her voice.
“Hey,” I said. “It’s me. It happened again.”
“Oh God, Trapper. Are you at the house now, or are you somewhere safe?”
I looked around. There were some guys not too far away, standing in a circle and speaking Spanish. Two girls were on the other side of the street, waving at the cars driving by.
“I’m safe.”
“Will you be okay until morning?”
“I…I think so.”
“Then how about I meet you at our usual place?”
“Yeah, okay.”
“I’ll bring you to the group home until I can find you another place to live.”
I knew it was her job to bring me in, but sometimes, I wished I could just live out here. It would be better than most of the places I’d been. “Okay. I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Try to get some rest.”
I hung up and walked until I found a bench. It was in front of a bus stop, and a lady was sitting on one end of it. I put up the hood of my sweatshirt when I caught her looking at me. She’d seen enough. I didn’t want my bloody, battered face to scare her. I plopped down on the other end, leaning forward to take the pressure off my ribs.