Recompense For Love: Book Three of the Against All Odds Series

by Gemini Jensen

  “She’ll come around, Stars. I know someone else who was a sassy little firecracker at that age. Try not to read too much into it.”

  She gnaws on her lip, and even though we’re having a serious conversation, the sexy-as-fuck visual shoots straight to my groin, injecting me with a huge dose of sexual frustration.

  Why do I have to want her at the most inopportune of moments?

  I glance over to Ari and Willow, who are playing happily together with a huge set of Lincoln logs. They’ve used the entire living room floorspace to create a vast set of miniature structures which they’ve deemed a village.

  Despite the fact pretty much all the buildings look exactly the same to me, the two of them can name off each shop or whose home is whose, by memory. In a way, they remind me of Lyra and me when we were little, except we argued a whole lot more. Hopefully that just means they’ll be preoccupied for a while.

  “Look, I…uh,” I huff, scratching the back of my neck as I try to decide the best way to broach the subject.

  “Spit it out, Nash.” She narrows her eyes in my direction, and I can practically see the wheels spinning inside her head. She’s always cautious, ever untrusting. It’s what makes this so hard.

  “Right. I brought pizza for the kids, but I was hoping in doing so, I’d get a chance to talk to you about something.”

  She stares at me silently, and I swallow.

  She stares a little more, and I’m my heart feels like it’ll burst from my chest if it beats any harder. Then she turns toward the living room, calling out.

  “Kids, you need to come get your pizza before it’s cold.” I grit my teeth together harshly, clamping down the curse words that are attempting to claw their way up my throat. She’s got to be fucking kidding me. She’s trying to shut me down, obviously planning to hide behind pint-sized human shields.

  “Classy, Lyra,” I growl through clenched teeth.

  Instead of arguing, I’ll go with the flow. For now.

  “She’s right. Ari, get in here.”

  Her mouth pops open in surprise, but it’s only a split second before she contains herself. Nervous my opportunity will disappear, I become the fastest pizza-plater in existence, slinging double the slices out so that she can’t use having to dish out seconds as an escape plan. Next, I take it a step further, picking up the remote to Lyra’s kitchen television—why the chick has a tiny television in here when you can still see the one in the living room is beyond me—and turn it to the classic cartoon channel.

  I fight the urge to fist-pump the air with a roar of victory once I see it’s Scooby-Doo reruns. Ari is a sucker for those teenage sleuths and their talking dog.

  In less than a minute the room is silent, the two kiddos suddenly focused intently on their food and cartoons.

  “I gotta get my phone out the car. I forgot it. Be right back.” I stand and head out the front door, carrying out the motions of pretending to retrieve something from my vehicle, then heading back to the porch again, where I dawdle.

  After I think enough time has passed, I pop my head inside the kitchen.

  “Stars,” I say her name low and controlled so as not to gather the attention of the kiddos at the same time. When her head lifts up from her phone to meet my eyes, she almost appears guilty of something. She glances back and forth between me and her phone several times, her lips flattening to a thin line before she shifts her hips to the side, sliding the device in her back-pocket.

  Looks like I’m adding another objective to my agenda tonight…

  She stands, but still doesn’t take a step in my direction. I cock my head behind me, motioning toward the porch, then lift my finger to my lips telling her not to disrupt the children. She blinks. My eyes can’t help but roam over her body from head to toe, before settling back on her face again.

  She glares.

  I need to talk to you. It’s important, I implore her using my eyes.

  She sighs, rolling her eyes in true Lyra style, then trudges over to the door like she’s stomping barefoot through algae-infested mud. She stops at the door-jam, defiantly making a point of not stepping out onto the porch.

  “Do you have any empty shoe box or something?” I whisper urgently.

  “Wh—what? I think so,” she scrunches up her nose curiously. “Why?”

  “I didn’t want to have to tell you, but I found a little bird out here. It looks like it accidentally flew into your window, the poor little fellow.” I shake my head remorsefully. “I’m not sure whether it’s just knocked itself out, or if it’s dead. I think it’s just knocked out, but unfortunately, the little guy appears to have broken his wing. It’s supposed to be cold tonight. He’ll die if he just lays there…”

  Her eyes widen in horror and she gasps. “Oh, no.” Then she’s immediately in motion, practically knocking me out of the way as she makes her way out onto the porch and heading toward the large kitchen window.

  Thoroughly inspecting the area, she turns to me with a furrowed brow, taking a step back when she notices I’m much more close to her than she expected.

  “Well, where is it? Did you do something with it alr—” before she can finish the question, I have her pressed up against the side of the house. Her mouth pops open again, but I silence her with my lips.

  She releases a squeak of surprise, but it quickly transitions to a needy gasp that I swallow whole. If I could, I’d make it my life’s mission to devour each and every sound of pleasure that ever falls from her lips—all of them mine; none of them ever belonging to anyone else.

  When her fingers twine through my hair and squeeze, locking me in place so that I couldn’t break free even if I wanted to, my heart soars.

  Mine. Mine. Mine. I keep chanting the singular word in my head.

  It’s the only thing I can focus on, the need to claim her. Possess her. Keep her.

  As if she can hear the thoughts floating around inside my head, the tides shift. She freezes mid-kiss, and since I still have her pinned to the house, ensuring she has no room to retreat, she uses the leverage of having her fingers tangled in my hair to wrench my lips away from hers.

  “You lied to me,” she accuses, her lagoon eyes crackling with fury.

  I shrug nonchalantly.

  “Let me go.” She wriggles against me, gently at first, then violently once she realizes I’m not going to be polite and listen to her request.

  “Never.” The word is loaded with double-entendre, but I don’t think she catches them.

  “Nash, so help me God, if you don’t let me loose, my knee is going to find your balls.”

  She couldn’t knee me in the balls if she tried. Not with my thigh holding her’s hostage against the house.

  “I’d rather your hands find my balls. I’d love if you gave them a little massage while you were kneeled in front of me…”

  “That will never happen,” she grates out.

  I flash her a mischievous grin.

  “Never say never, Stars.”

  Her lips twist angrily and struggles against me some more. I just press closer.

  “Keep with that. The more you struggle, the more you turn me on.”

  “You’re crazy.”

  “A little. But it’s your fault. Somehow we just keep on finding ourselves in this position…”—my hand comes to rest on her hip, squeezing—“you always trying to run away, me turning into the bad guy ‘cuz I’m forced to catch you.” I narrow my eyes at her, and while she’s glaring at me now full-force, her face turning red from anger, she’s also biting her lip.

  If given the chance, she’d probably do a whole lot more than just knee me in the balls. She’d likely wallop me over the head. I’d get my ass handed to me, but it doesn’t diminish the fact there’s a hunger in her eyes that can only mean one thing.

  She wants me. She tries so hard to hide it, to fight it, but it still shines through her façade.

  I toss her a wolfish grin at this knowledge, my ego growing by the second…along with something else.


  “While I love a good role-play sesh, I have a feeling you wouldn’t be down for all that, being too naïve, too innocent and all.” Her nostrils flare, but I don’t miss a beat. “So, since that’s out of the question, this whole run away from any serious conversation, avoiding talk of any type of relationship thing, is going to have to stop. Next time I have to chase you, I can’t give any guarantees as to gentlemanly behavior on my part.”

  “The kids…” she reminds me, like I might have forgotten about them.

  “Are fine. Listen.” Laughter fills the kitchen along with a sound-cue from the show signaling something funny just happened.

  “I know you’ve been hurt in the past. I know I’ve been one of the ones to do it. I’m not that same guy, just like you’re not that same girl who lets people run all over her. Just go on one date with me. See how things go before you write me—write us—off.”

  “No.” She shoots off the one-word answer with so much force, I can feel the resoluteness.

  “I’m not releasing you until you agree.”

  “Then I guess we’ll be here all night,” she snips.

  “Awesome. That’s all I wanted anyway—to spend time together.”

  She rolls her eyes. “If you say so, Ponyboy.”

  “It’s Horse-man now, sweetheart. I’m full-grown.” I grin. “But I just got one Hell of an idea. I saw something the other day that made me think of you.” I reach into my back-pocket, and retrieve a tiny gift-wrapped package, holding it out for her.

  Her brow crinkles in confusion as she looks into my eyes, seeming to ask I’m for real. I nod.

  Slowly, her fingers inch toward the package before taking it.

  “It’s not much. Nothing extravagant. Don’t get all stressed. ‘Know how you are about expensive gifts and shit.”

  Those words have her ripping the paper away in an instant, and my body buzzes with happiness when I watch the tips of her mouth curve into the smile I know she’s trying her damnedest to fight.

  “I love them,” she admits sheepishly, opening up the box and studying the beautiful star-inspired deck.

  “Can’t think of a better way to put that to use. Remember what we used to do when we couldn’t reach an agreement?”

  “We’d play for it,” we say together in unison.

  “We’ll play a few hands. You choose the game, but if I win, you’re going on a date with me.”

  “And if I win, you’ll leave me be.” Her words stab through my heart, but I try not to let it show.

  “Right,” my taut voice responds, and I finally take a step back, releasing her.

  “If it’s the only way to get you off my back, fine.” She crosses her arms over her chest in defeat, a scowl marring up her expression.

  “Hell. Try not to be so enthused. You’re acting like you’ve just agreed to murder some cute and cuddly kitten or something. If I remember correctly, you always kicked my ass at cards.”

  “Yeah. I had Gray teaching me. Something tells me though, you know something I don’t.”

  “What could I possibly know that you don’t? You think you know everything,” I smirk, and she shoves at me playfully. “It’s cards, Stars. Technique only goes so far. The rest is up to fate.”

  “Let’s get it over with then,” she sasses confidently, cocking her hip out.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Lyra

  Nash peers overtop of the hand he’s currently holding, those green eyes smoldering in my direction and tossing my stomach while grating on my nerves all at the same time. His expression is sure and confident—full of himself, that’s what he is. And then he has this highly sexual side to him, an insatiable appetite if I’d have to guess, and more so than any other man I’ve been with.

  He’s experienced.

  He knows what he wants, and just goes after it.

  I think it’s that side of him that gets me all wound up and flustered. That side speaks to me, piques my curiosity. He was right when he said I’m innocent and inexperienced—not that I haven’t had sex, because I’ve had quite a bit of it—it’s just, my number of sex partners are few and far between.

  I don’t know much about sex, I’m not even sure what things I prefer and what things I don’t, due to lack of experimentation. I’ve been hung up on the rung of plain ol’ vanilla, and never moved up the pole.

  Appearance-wise, it’s like a surprising paradox.

  Nash is a complex, multifaceted sex god, who sometimes seems to think he’s god’s gift to women, and I’ve barely even scratched the surface. There’s so much more to him. He’s every woman’s dream guy. He’s the perfect blend of the tough, alpha protector, combined with the handsome, well-dressed GQ model.

  I mean, seriously, when does that ever happen? It’s either one or the other—rugged and sexy, tough guy, or handsome and suave businessman. Never both at the same time.

  Most importantly, he’s caring. Loving. Loyal.

  I’ve always known these things about him, but after the accident, I wondered if those parts of him had been wrenched away, never to return again. Then he shows up back in town, Ari in tow, and proves to me, that yes, he is still the guy from my youth.

  He’s so many things at once, it’s dizzying. And when he stares at me the way he is right now, intense and studiously like he’s trying to extract every thought that’s ever ran through my head, it’ frightening.

  If he broke my heart as a mere boy, letting him in now would destroy me forever. I’m all about girl-power and not letting people get you down—men especially, but this man could set fire to my soul then walk away, kicking through the leftover ashes like it’s nothing.

  I’m not too stupid to realize it.

  I’m not too stupid to realize he’s distracted me from a look alone, enough to cause my mind to go through the motions of dissecting every aspect of him. Shit. Was he trying to do that all along? Does he know the power he wields over me?

  “Stop staring at me like that,” I finally snap, my patience already worn thin before agreeing to play cards with him. It’s not just about the date. I have a feeling what we’re really playing for, is my heart.

  Will it be broken, or will it remain intact.

  “Like what?” His eyes smile back at me, just the hints of a smile tugging at his luscious lips.

  “Like you’re going to eat me alive at any given moment,” I mutter, squirming in my seat as I attempt to get comfortable.

  It’s a moot point, but I have to win this game. No distractions from pretty, green-eyed monsters.

  “We both know I could, Sweetheart.” He tosses me a wink, then goes back to studying his hand. My cheeks grow warm as I think about that night…

  Fuck. More distractions.

  I scoot all my money into the center of the table, careful not to knock over my expertly arranged stacks of coins.

  “I’m going all in.” This is a gamble, but I’m thinking he has a shit hand.

  As kids, he always had that cocky-ass smirk going on, when in fact, he didn’t have shit to play. He probably has a pair of Aces, or three of a kind. I’m betting my straight is enough to beat him. Too bad it isn’t suited.

  He matches my bet, and is still somehow left with a few coins. I just have to beat him this hand, then one more, and his ass is grass. But if I lose this hand, I’m royally screwed. Oh, well.

  Gray has always taught me cards is about taking chances, but being smart about it.

  I flip over my cards, and his mouth pinches, then slides into a frown. His forehead wrinkles just slightly, and I swear I see little beads of sweat breaking out across his sun-kissed skin. His eyes flit to mine, an expression of defeat settling over them.

  I should be absolutely elated in this moment, because it’s looking like I’m the winner.

  Instead, I feel pretty shitty.

  He slides his free hand through his hair, blowing out a frustrated puff of air.

  “Fuck,” he mutters. Then he tosses down his hand.

  “You’
ve got to be shitting me,” I yell a little too loudly. Sitting on the table, neatly arranged for me to see is a four-of-a-kind. An ace four-of-a-kind. “How in the Hell did you get all four aces. What’d you do, sell your soul or something?” I accuse, glaring at him.

  His white teeth gleam, kind of like a hungry predator, kind of like ‘most popular frat-boy’ reveling in attention at a college party.

  “Fate,” he shrugs.

  I can’t help but roll my eyes.

  “Guess I’ll be going on that date,” I agree none to happily, but still trying to be a good sport, because I’ve never been one for acting like a sore-loser.

  He slips from his chair and stands, and I fight the urge to stare.

  I lose said fight.

  I know exactly what’s underneath that white button-up shirt that’s currently rolled up to the elbow, showcasing thick forearms.

  I’ve been privy to viewing that delicious V of his lower abdomen.

  I lick my lips unconsciously, and damn it if he doesn’t catch the reaction, smiling cockily back at me.

  “Hungry still, Stars? Ari’s over there asleep on the couch now that Willow has gone home. I could stick around a little longer, maybe feed you something. Wouldn’t mind eating some more myself…”

  “But there’s no pizza left,” I kindly remind him, slightly confused.

  “Exactly.” His devilish grin blindsides me, but then I gasp in horror, understanding the double-entendre.

  “Shut up. Just text me when you figure out when we’re going on the date.” I gather up the new deck of cards, shuffling them, then sliding them back into their package.

  He gathers Ari up into his arms, somehow not even waking the little guy, and cradles him protectively to his chest.

  “Looks like somebody got worn out. Willow just suggests something, and he follows suit, gung-ho behind her. Kind of like us as kids, except we disagreed about everything. He’s so independent at home, it’s surprising he lets her lead them,” he muses aloud.

  “Maybe he’s just being gentlemanly. Not sure where he gets it from though,” I tease, putting the last few items on the table away.