"You sure about that?"
"Definitely."
"Oh yeah?" he said. "Well, let me ask you something? You ever have that happen before?"
"What?" I said.
"You ever have some stranger come up and give you crap for no good reason?"
"Well, I am a waitress," I said. "So, yeah. It happens to me all the time, actually."
"You know what I mean." He leaned toward me, over the center console. "I shouldn’t have left you alone."
"Why not? I don't need a bodyguard."
"That place," he said. "I mean it's nice enough." He shook his head. "But the crowd. Shit." He reached over, brushing a stray lock of hair from my face. Something in his voice changed. "I wanted to kill him."
"Which one?"
"Both."
"Well, you did a pretty good job of half-killing them, so that's gotta count for something, right?"
He gave me a look. "I can laugh at a lot of things, Chloe. But seeing you hurt isn't one of them."
"Except I wasn't hurt." I grinned over at him. "I wasn't even touched. So there."
He closed his eyes as if shutting out an image too painful to watch. "But you could've been."
"Hey," I said. "I want to ask you something, and I hope you'll be honest with me."
His eyes opened, and he met my gaze with an intensity that was almost too painful to bear. Slowly, he nodded.
I leaned very close. "By any chance," I whispered, "are you Lawton Rastor?"
His face froze. The moment seemed to go on forever, and then, his lips twitched. He gave me that crooked smile of his, the one that made my breath hitch and my heart melt. "Me?" he said. "Nah. I'm the guy with Chloe Malinski."
"Oh her?" I said in a disappointed tone. "But she's just a nobody."
"Baby," he said, "she's somebody, alright." Slowly, he moved his lips closer to mine. "Matter of fact, she's everything to this guy I know."
"Oh yeah?"
"Oh yeah."
Chapter 42
He closed the distance between us, crushing his lips onto mine in a kiss that seemed born of half relief, half desperation.
I raised my hands and brought them to his head, feeling the tousled strands of his hair dance around my fingers as our lips, our tongues, and our breaths combined. The center console dug into my side, but I barely noticed.
My voice was breathless as I said, "I want you."
His lips drifted lower, leaving a trail of soft kisses down my jawline and toward my shoulder. "Ready to go home?" he said.
Home. It was a funny word. "I feel like I'm home right now," I said. I glanced toward the rear of the car. "Hey, look a back seat."
I felt his muffled laugh against my shoulder. "No way."
"Aw c'mon," I said. "I know you want to."
I reached out toward his leg. I trailed my hand across his jeans, starting at the knee and working my way up, slowly and surely. When my hand hit a definite bulge, the muffled laugh turned into a muffled groan.
"Baby, you're killin' me over here."
"Then you should just give in," I teased. "It'll be so much simpler."
He pulled his head back and gazed into my eyes. "Not gonna happen. Not here. As tempting as you are."
"Why not?" I said.
"A place like this," he said, looking around the dim parking lot, "bad things can happen. And if anything bad happened to you—" he shook his head "—I'd never forgive myself."
"With you here?" I said. "I'm not worried."
Funny, I meant it too. Wrapped in his arms, and feeling him close to me, I felt like nothing bad could ever happen, not to me, and not to him.
"Here's the thing," he said. "Yeah, we could climb into that back seat, but I'd have to keep an eye out."
I felt a hand on my knee, mirroring my own motions from just a moment earlier. His hand drifted higher up my thigh, and higher still, going so slow I felt like I'd combust right then and there.
When his hand finally reached the intersection of my thighs, my eyes drifted shut, and my lips parted. The sound that escaped might've been a sigh, and it might've been a moan.
"Or," he said, rubbing his thumb in a slow, circular motion across that perfect spot, "I could take you home, where the only thing I have to think about is you."
"Home," I said. "Now."
By the time we reached Lawton's estate, I was burning for him, feeling the heat of that brief touch simmer and grow with every turn and every mile. When we finally roared through his gate and skidded to a stop in the turnaround, he cut the engine and jumped out of his car.
He strode around to the passenger's side, flung open my door, and threw me over his shoulder, barbarian style.
I couldn't help it. I squealed and giggled all the way up the front walkway. He pushed through the front door and slammed it shut with a haphazard kick.
Without breaking a sweat, he headed up the wide stairway with me, still laughing, slung over his shoulder. I lost one shoe halfway up and the other when we hit the top step.
He strode down the long hall, heading straight to his bedroom. When he reached it, he hoisted me up and flung me onto his bed, where I landed with a fit of laughter that made my insides ache.
He stood at the foot of the bed, looking down on me with a smile so wicked, and a body to match, that my breathless laughter quieted to mere breathlessness.
He was so damn beautiful. And he loved me. And I loved him. I was living a dream, and I never wanted to wake up.
He leaned over the bed, and unbuttoned my jeans with one hand, and then went for the zipper. He straightened up, and took a pant leg in each hand, tugging slowly and surely until I wore only my shirt and underpants.
When he leaned down to tug at my panties, I said, "No fair. You're still dressed."
"Who said anything about fair?" he said, giving my panties a slow tug downward. "Baby, you are so beautiful," he said. "It hurts just to look at you."
"So are you," I said, motioning him toward the bed. "But you're too far away."
With a small chuckle, he grabbed my ankles and pulled me toward him, until my pelvis rested at the edge of the bed. Slowly, he ran a hand up my thigh. "Better?" he said.
I crooked my finger, motioning him to come closer. When he did, I gripped the hem of his shirt and tugged upward until he gave in, lifting his arms, and letting me tug it, hard, over his head and toss it onto the floor.
Leaning over me with his bare chest, with all those muscles, ridges, and tattoos, I could almost envision him as a conquering warrior, come to claim his prize. I felt my knees tremble and my breath catch. He knelt at the foot of the bed and lowered his head, kissing the inside of my thigh just above the knee.
That small kiss ignited a flame, sending a quiver of heat straight to my core. I felt his tongue on my skin and his hands on my thighs, caressing the skin with slow, steady strokes. His mouth moved higher with every kiss until I felt his lips brush my opening and his tongue giving me a long, sweet stroke.
I was panting now, squirming against him and gripping the bed coverings with both fists.
"I love the way you taste," he said. "And feel."
I felt a finger slip inside me, and I ground my hips upward, wanting more. So much more. Soon, a second finger joined the first, and he took my hot, swollen clit into his mouth. He sucked, lightly at first, and then harder, making me moan and sigh in time with the motions of his mouth and fingers.
I lifted my torso, resting my weight on my elbows, to look down at him. His eyes lifted, meeting mine, and something in my heart gave way. Because what I saw there, it wasn't just a gorgeous guy who knew exactly what he was doing.
It was a guy who made me feel whole in ways I'd never imagined.
And damn, I loved watching him. When his eyes dipped down again, I let my gaze soak up the rest of him, those powerful shoulders, those strong arms, the neck I loved to caress when we kissed on the couch.
When my head drifted backward, my body followed. Soon, my eyes drifted shut too.
/> The movement of his fingers and the motions of his tongue were sending me closer and closer to that sweet abyss. Then I fell over with a series of shudders and sounds that I wouldn't want the neighbors to hear.
When he lifted his head, I couldn't stop quivering as he stood, and finally unzipped his jeans. "I love you so damn much, Chloe," he said. "I never wanna let you go."
"Then don't," I said, "because I love you too."
I lifted my head, and made a motion to get up. I wanted to taste him too, to have him in the same way he had me.
"No," he said. "Stay right there. I want you just like this. You're so damn beautiful."
When his jeans reached the floor, and his navy briefs followed, I felt a shudder of anticipation. His body was a work of art, and not just the parts that had graced all those magazine covers.
Still standing, he pressed the tip of his massive erection to my opening, and then with one slow steady movement, he surged forward. My slickness welcomed him, closing around him as our two bodies became one.
Through heavy-lidded eyes, I watched him. The muscles of his abs shifted and moved in time with his hips, and I felt my own stomach contract, at first a little, and then a lot. His body was magnificent, and he knew how to use it.
Every thrust, sometimes slow, sometimes fast, was reaching places I almost didn't know existed, and not just with my body. It had never been like this. Not with anyone. Not ever. I ground against him, feeling him move inside me and relishing every motion.
Almost before I realized it, I was clutching the bedding yet again, moving my own hips faster in time with his, faster and faster, until with a symphony of shudders and moans, we reached that glorious peak and floated back to Earth.
Except it didn't feel like Earth. It felt like Heaven. And when he settled down next to me a moment later, it felt like home.
It felt like I belonged.
Chapter 43
When I woke the next day in the Parkers' guest room, reality hit like a cold fish to the face. Last night had been a dream, a wonderful dream. But today, I had to face reality.
At five o'clock in the morning, Lawton had left for the airport. He'd urged me to stay, to sleep in his bed, to stay at his house. The invitation included both me and Chucky, who we'd retrieved from the Parkers' later that night.
But as I watched Lawton get dressed, I knew that delaying my departure wouldn't really help. It would only postpone the inevitable. So when he left for the airport, I asked him to drop me and Chucky off on the way with the anticipation of his return in just a couple of days.
As we said goodbye in the Parkers' driveway, I soaked up that final feverish embrace like my sanity depended on it. In a way it did, because if things continued to go downhill as far as house-sitting was concerned, I might not be his neighbor very much longer.
If I didn't hear back from the Parkers within the next day or two, I'd have some tough choices to make. Would I need to check with their bank? Leave their house? Call the police?
I sure as hell hoped not. It was exactly the kind of thing I tried to avoid, especially if I ever wanted to work again as a house sitter.
My day improved considerably when I arrived at work that evening and learned that Brittney had called in sick. Keith gave me the news personally, not looking too happy about it.
"Is it the flu?" I asked.
"Wouldn't you like to know?" he said.
"Not particularly," I said. "And just for the record, she really is terrible at this. Like I already told you, she insulted every single customer."
"And like I already told you," he said, "maybe she wasn't adequately trained."
"Hey, I tried," I said. "She never listens. You know what I think? She's trying to sabotage me."
"Chloe," he said, "not everyone is out to get you."
"I'm just saying, it's a problem."
"Wanna know what the real problem is around here?"
"What?"
"Your boyfriends."
I stared at him. "What do you mean?"
"Well, first, you've got one of them beating the crap out of his own car in our parking lot, and then you've got this other one coming in every day asking for you. What do you think? This is some kind of dating service?"
"I don't even know who you're talking about," I said.
"Sure you don't."
"I don't," I said. "Whoever he is, he's not my boyfriend."
"Funny, that's not what he said."
I felt my eyebrows furrow. "What'd he look like?"
"Heavyset guy, longish hair, said his name was Chester."
"Shaggy?" I said. "He's not my boyfriend. He's not even my friend."
Keith crossed his arms. "Oh yeah? Well from what I heard, you were all over him the other night in our parking lot."
"I was not!"
"Oh really? Well Jordon said he saw you on the guy's shoulders, making a regular spectacle of yourself. Got anything to say about that?"
"I was taking video," I said. "And it wasn't even my idea."
"Just so you know," Keith said, "if he comes in here again, I'm writing you up."
"You can't write me up," I said. "It's not my fault if he comes in here."
Keith pointed to his name tag and cleared his throat. "What does this say?"
I gave him a look. "You don't know your own name?"
"Very funny," Keith said. "Go on, read what it says below my name."
I rolled my eyes. "Manager."
"Exactly. I'm the manager, and if I say you're getting written up, you're gonna get written up. End of story."
"Okay, fine write me up. Whatever. Are we done here?"
He pointed his thumb at his name tag. "We're done when I say we're done."
I looked at him expectantly.
He glanced at the clock, and then toward the dining area. "Alright, we're done. Now get out there, and remember what I said."
About Brittney? About Shaggy? About his name tag? Honestly, I had no idea what the guy was referring to. But I was used to that. I headed out toward the waitress station, just glad for the chance to make up for lost ground.
Without Brittney, I had a decent chance of making some money tonight, and I wasn't going to let the opportunity slide just because Keith was up to his old tricks.
By midnight, I'd actually made some progress when I heard someone at the bar call my name. I turned, and there he was, Shaggy, his cell phone in one hand and a beer in the other.
I stalked over. "What do you want?" I said.
He frowned. "Why do you gotta be so mean about it? Or, uh, is this part of your waitressing act?"
"No," I said, "I actually meant to be mean."
"Jeez, what'd I ever do to you?"
"Well for one thing," I said, "you're lying about being my boyfriend."
"You're one to talk," he said. "You gave me a fake name." His gaze narrowed. "Betty."
"Look," I said, "I'm really busy. Just tell me what you want, so then you can leave."
"When I tell you," he said, "you're gonna feel really bad."
"Oh yeah? Why?"
"Because the only reason I'm here is to do you a favor."
My gaze narrowed. "What kind of favor?"
"Here's the thing." He glanced around. "I saw you with Lawton Rastor."
"So?"
"So, he seems to really like you."
I made a forward motion with my hands. "And?"
"And I do some video work on the side, weddings and stuff."
I shook my head. "So?"
He lowered his voice. "You know that sex tape of his? If you wanted, I could set up a sequel."
My mouth fell open. "Are you saying you did the first one?"
He glanced around. "I don't like to brag."
"Oh trust me," I said, feeling a cold rage sweep over me. "It's nothing to brag about."
"But I'm guessing you want to be famous too, right?"
I gave him look. "Does Lawton know about this?" Of course, I knew the truth, but his answer would tell me a
lot.
Shaggy reached up to scratch his ear. "Not yet. But I mean, he'd find out eventually, right?"
I crooked my finger, inviting him to come closer. When he did, I moved my head close and whispered in his ear. "Listen, if you ever ask me something like that again, you're gonna be real sorry. And you wanna know why?'
He leaned back and gave a nervous look around the restaurant. "What are you gonna do? Tell Lawton?"
"No." I smiled. "I'm gonna tell Jen."
His eyes widened. "Jen, my girlfriend?"
I nodded.
"You wouldn't."
I crossed my arms. "I would."
Again, he looked around. "She's not here now, is she?"
I shrugged.
"I gotta go," he said. A split-second later, he was heading for the exit.
I gave him a cheery wave. "Don't come back soon!"
Chapter 44
That next day was Sunday. I had the next day off and was determined to make the most of it, especially with Lawton still out of town. When he returned Monday, I wanted to be all caught up on chores and ready to make up for lost time.
I spent most of that Sunday catching up on things I should've been doing all along – doing loads of laundry, creating a new flyer for Grandma's non-existent job, and spending some quality time with Chucky.
But no matter what my hands were doing, my brain seemed to be doing something else entirely. I still hadn't heard back from the Parkers, and I was trying not to panic.
As the hours dragged on with no answer and no return phone call, I couldn't help but consider the worst-case scenarios.
This was a slow-motion train wreck waiting to happen. Mrs. Parker had written me checks, and I'd written my own checks against those checks. It had never occurred to me that her checks wouldn’t be good. The first few had cleared just fine.
Eventually my own checks would bounce, but not right away, only because my account had overdraft protection. Still, it wouldn't be cheap. It was tied to a scarily small line of credit with a scarily big interest rate. If I needed to tap into that line, I'd have virtually no way to pay it back – unless, of course, I wanted to take Shaggy up on his sex tape offer.
And no way was that going to happen.
Rebelonging (Unbelonging, Book 2) Page 15