by Diana Gardin
“Yeah,” I answer her, my voice soft and rough. “We weren’t close or anything. But it sucked, you know? Going back to a town I never wanted to see again. Remembering. It sucked.”
She stares a moment longer, and then pops off the couch like a jack-in-the-box. I miss her touch immediately and pull my hand back into my lap. I’m being so stupid right now. This chick hates me.
And I don’t need the grief that would come with trying to change that. I decided a long time ago to just let it be.
“Where are you going?” I ask, expecting her to say good night and flounce right back out my front door.
She pauses, headed toward the kitchen rather than the front door. Turning her head, she gives me a sexy smirk that I don’t even think she means to be sexy. Goddamn. She’s trouble. Always has been.
“When you’ve just buried your dead mother, you shouldn’t have to drink alone. So I’m going to find the strongest liquor you have in your bar, and then I’m going to catch up to you.” She turns on her heel and marches out.
The second I think I’ve got Mea Jones figured out, she throws me for a completely fucking loop. And that should make me crazy. It does. It makes me feel like the wheels are about to come off.
But when she’s the one riding beside me…I kind of don’t mind it.
4
Mea
I’m not sure what I’m thinking. All I know is that the sound of his voice when he told me about his mother, the shards of pain that sliced straight through the middle of it, and the anguish in his eyes pulled me toward him like a magnet. Leave it to me to be attracted to all the darkest, most tortured places inside of a guy rather than the light and the warmth. At that moment, when he blurted out what was hurting him, he was vulnerable and sad and beautiful.
Painfully beautiful.
So painful that it made my insides ache for him. So beautiful that it made the very core of me burn for him.
I don’t know anything about Drake, not about his family or his background or his past. And this bit that just slipped out drew me closer to him than the one night that my body had been wrapped around his. I’d never wanted to know him before.
I don’t want to know him now, do I?
I thought I knew everything I needed to know about the quiet, good-natured, ridiculously sexy ex-army Ranger. But maybe there’s more to him than I ever imagined.
Of course, I’m the last person who should be delving into anyone’s personal life or dark past. I have my own ghosts that haunt me every single day. Just trying to make myself better and accomplishing my dream of opening my own yoga studio is what I need to be focused on. Not my painful past. Not Drake’s, either.
So why am I now digging myself in deeper? I can’t answer that. It’s unexplainable. But I know that at least for tonight, I need to be here for him.
I grab a bottle of tequila—go big or go home, right?—from the cabinet underneath the bar in the dining room and two shot glasses.
Drake’s eyes widen when I reappear in the living room, and he leans forward with his elbows on his knees. He’s completely wrecked.
I hold up the bottle. “Found some!”
With a crooked smile that jump-starts my heart in a way I don’t want to analyze, he gestures toward the spot next to him. “By all means, sweetheart. Give it your best.”
I plop down beside him and narrow my eyes. “Was that a challenge, Sullivan?”
His eyes twinkle with amusement. “I think I’ll lose every challenge with you, Mea.”
Nodding firmly, I pour myself a shot. “You’re damn right about that.”
Knocking it back, I relish the burn of the liquid. I’m no stranger to tequila. Or any other type of liquor, for that matter. There have been a lot of nights in my life that I’ve just wanted to be numb. To forget.
But this isn’t one of them. This is for Drake.
Smiling broadly, I take a second shot. “No chaser.”
He raises a brow. “Impressive.”
After the third shot in quick succession, I sit back and raise two fists in the air. “I think that was a good start. At this rate, I’ll be where you are in no time.”
He smiles, a real, genuine smile that turns his face into the purest form of light. For a second, I’m caught by it, frozen in the depth of his sunshine. How can one man be full of so much light one minute, and so much darkness in the next?
It’s the first time I’ve realized that usually when he smiles, it’s hollow. His normal smirk shines only a fraction of the light that this full-watt grin does.
What’s Drake Sullivan been hiding behind that easy smirk?
As the alcohol begins to send signals of pleasant numbness throughout my arms and legs, I lean back against the cushion and pull my legs up to my chest, facing Drake. I study his profile, noting again just how attractive he is right before he turns his head and meets my gaze.
“Why are you doing this? I thought you hated me.”
I squirm, discomfort settling hard in the bottom of my stomach. My tongue is looser now after three shots of tequila, and I speak without my usual guard. “I don’t hate you. I just…” My voice, already set in a whisper, fades away into nothingness.
Drake leans toward me. His forehead wrinkles and his eyes go all soft in concern. He reaches out, but when I flinch away his hand drops down beside him. A flicker of understanding crosses his expression, and I close my eyes so he doesn’t see any more of what I’m trying so desperately to keep behind my high stone walls.
“Mea…I didn’t hurt you that night, did I?” His voice is heavy, like he’s already carrying the weight of my past pain. His gaze burns into mine, like he needs the answer to this question more than he needs his next breath.
I shake my head, wanting to reassure him. “No, Drake. It was…me. It’s always me.”
He just keeps staring, and I need to ramble on. “I have rules, you know? When it comes to being with men. I don’t do anything more than a one-night stand. So seeing you again, after…it surprised me. I didn’t expect to ever see you again, much less have you so embedded in my life.”
He nods slowly. But his expression stays soft as he scrutinizes my face. “Rules…about sex. Why would you need those, Mea?”
The energy that constantly keeps me moving buoys me and I pop up from the couch and begin to pace. Drake’s eyes follow me, burning into my skin and burrowing deep inside me where I don’t want him to go.
“I just do. Okay?” My face is defiant as I halt and face him once more. Silently, I dare him to ask me more so I can either fly out the door or completely shut down.
Instead of pushing, Drake nods and pats the couch beside him. “You promised me a drinking partner.” He picks up the bottle and lines up two shots. Grabbing his, he glances at me, as if waiting.
With just another moment of hesitation, I return to the couch and grab the shot. Drake holds his up toward mine and we clink. Then we both down the liquid courage in one gulp.
An hour and two shots later, Drake’s big body is sprawled out on the floor beside the couch and I’m giggling uncontrollably at his imitation of my old roommate Greta’s fiancé.
“All those Navy SEALs are the same.” Drake laughs, low and throaty. The sound of it does something chemical to my insides, making them melt in reaction to the sound of his voice. His forehead wrinkles as he adopts a comically stern expression, eyebrows pulling together. “I can swim three hundred miles in a hurricane! I’m a SEAL!” He punctuates his statement with a wild fist pump, and I dissolve into a fit of laughter. In my inebriated state, I roll right off the couch and onto the floor, landing directly on top of Drake. His hard, muscly form breaks my fall, strong arms instantly wrapping around me securely.
For a moment, neither of us moves. His caramel-colored eyes turn molten. My eyes drink in every detail: his full lips, jagged scar, imperfect nose. Impossible male beauty up close and personal. My insides turn to Jell-O as my limbs betray me, beginning to tremble as all of his hard places line up with my soft
ones in what seems like a dream. His eyes hood as a storm begins to brew within them.
Jerking into action like a rubber band snapping back, I half-crawl, half-walk backward on my hands and feet. Kneeling a few feet away, I attempt to take a deep breath. But the alcohol working in my system prevents my head from clearing the way I need it to. I can’t be taken in by all of Drake’s gorgeousness and the pure sexual energy that exists between us. I’m in control here.
Who am I kidding? And what am I thinking? Sacrificing my control to cheer up Drake?
Drake sits up with slow and careful movements, eyeing me like a trainer would approach a cornered jungle cat.
“I…I think I need to go.” My words come out in a rush.
Drake shakes his head. His eyes are kind but his words are firm. “Not happening, Mea. You’re in no shape to drive, and I’m in no shape to take you. You can stay.”
I shake my head just as firmly. “That’s not a good idea.”
Drake sighs. “I’ll sleep on the couch. You take my bed. You don’t have to worry about anything with me, Mea. You’re staying.”
My eyes dart from his sincere gaze to the hallway where I know his bedroom lies. I only hesitate for a second before I agree. “Okay. I’ll leave first thing in the morning.”
Because we’re both too far gone to worry about changing sheets and other niceties, Drake walks me to his room and I fall back onto his bed. I open one eye to watch him. He stands in the doorway, both arms hanging on the doorjamb above him, his white dress shirt long since unbuttoned, the rippling abdominal muscles and toned chest ripe for the viewing. With a big swallow, I squeeze my eyes shut once more just as the room begins to spin.
“I’m gonna put some water next to the bed. Drink it.”
I open my eyes and scowl. “Bossy.”
He only chuckles as he walks away, and then I’m lost in the darkness as sleep pulls me into its arms.
5
Drake
When I open my eyes the next morning, my first thought is that my head fucking hurts. My next thought is a question: Why the hell am I sleeping on my couch? Then my brain snaps back to last night and Mea’s flawless face and sex kitten little body. I groan at the tent my instant erection creates in the blanket thrown over me.
Just the thought of her. That’s all it takes.
Last night is the closest I’ve been to Mea since the one night we spent together years ago. And just like that, my brain flashes back to the memory I’ve kept locked away in a secret compartment of my mind, labeled “Best Night Ever.”
Her full lips quirk upward in a seductive smirk as she plants two small hands on my bare chest and shoves. Allowing her to think she could actually move me with her strength, I fall backward onto my bed. Propping myself up on my elbows I lean back and stare at this sexy goddess standing in front of me.
Without a word, she slips the straps of her tank top off of her slender shoulders. My eyes rivet to the creamy caramel skin as it’s exposed. My fingers curl as I suppress the urge to rise up and touch her. It’s obvious she’s running this show.
In the hottest fucking striptease I’ve seen in my life she removes the skimpy top and the skintight jeans painted on her legs. She’s so small and petite, I know my hands could wrap twice around her tiny waist. I can’t wait to put that thought to the test.
When there’s nothing left but a simple black bra and panty set, she walks toward me. Each step is deliberate and steady, and the sight of her confidence mixed with the portrait of her nearly naked perfection would be enough to bring me to my knees had I been standing. She stops just in front of me. She scrunches her lips to one side as she studies me.
“Strip,” she orders.
Not needing to be told twice, I make quick work of removing my jeans. My shirt was dumped somewhere in the living room, and I’m not wearing underwear tonight. The evidence of the way she turns me on springs free, and her eyes glaze over in the semidarkness of the room.
I crook a finger as I slide back on the big bed, beckoning her closer. She obliges, following me. Her round tits bounce as she crawls toward me, and the first thing I do when she reaches me is unhook the clasp of her bra. Cupping her fullness in one hand, I kiss the plush skin of her breasts. She sighs, dropping her head back and straddling my lap. My ready and willing cock twitches in response as her hips move restlessly against me.
When I lift my head from her chest, her eyes meet mine. The heat in them matches the fire blazing a path through my veins as we stare each other down. She’s using her eyes to send me a message, one I can’t quite decipher. Finally coming to some kind of silent decision, her lips finally meet mine for the first time.
She tastes like mint chocolate with the barest hint of forever.
Forever? I’ve never attached that word to a woman, never. I only met this girl today. For all I know, I’ll probably never see her again. But something inside me tells me she’s something to remember. Something to spend time on. She’s special.
When we pull free, we’re both out of breath and she gasps as my hips jerk underneath her.
“Condom?”
Nodding, I reach over and grab a foil packet out of my nightstand drawer. I hand it to her and she tears it open with her teeth. I’m hungry for her when she grasps a firm hold of my shaft and rolls the protection on me. She leaves her hand where it is for a moment, staring down as she strokes me. A litany of curses fly from my mouth and every single muscle in my body goes rigid. Her touch is going to undo me. Never have I been in danger of coming just from one stroke of a woman’s hand.
She glances up at me, and there’s a mixture of awe and concern in her eyes. “You’re big.”
Pride fills me and I shoot her a crooked grin. “Big and all yours tonight, baby.”
A look of determination changes her expression and I don’t have time to take a full breath before she lifts her ass and sits down hard on my dick. We both moan at the sheer ecstasy we feel as our bodies meet for the first time. She stills, closing her eyes, and my arms come up to cup the back of her neck. My hands are so big that my thumbs caress her face.
“You. Feel. Perfect.” The words are clipped and short because I’m in serious danger of busting a nut before she does, and I just can’t have that.
She begins to ride me, slowly at first and then faster. Her tits jiggle, her head flies back as she goes wild. I can’t handle the sensation of her moving on my hardness mixed with the way her inner muscles are grabbing a hold of me like they’ll never let go. Combine that with the way she looks right now, so free and wild, wild, wild.
I just wanna bottle this moment up and save it forever.
When she’s coming, I know it from the way her whole body trembles. Just as she flails in my arms I let loose a growl of possessiveness I don’t even know I’m feeling. Before I know it, I have her under me and I’m driving into her. She’s making little noises beneath me and I close my eyes as I come, letting out a shout. When I’m spent, I roll off of her and lay down beside her, breathing hard and heavy with exertion.
“That was…” I can’t find the words. I glance over at her and see her staring straight up at the ceiling. “You okay?”
Instead of answering, she rises off the bed and starts getting dressed.
“Hey,” I protest, sitting up. “You don’t have to go.”
She shakes her head, chocolate brown curls flying everywhere as she pulls on her jeans and then the sexy heels that stopped me in my tracks at the garage.
As she makes to leave the room, she turns back and tosses a good-bye over her shoulder. “Thanks. That was the best oil change I’ve ever had. You get an A for your service.”
Then she’s gone. Just like that, the girl I know I’ll see in my dreams for months to come disappears.
I’ll always remember her name though. I’m the one who ran her check card through the machine when I rang her up at the garage today. Mea Jones. I’ll probably never see her again.
For some reason, that thought almost
brings me to the brink of devastation.
Shaking my head to clear the memory, I haul up off the couch and walk down the hallway to my bedroom. The bed is empty, but neatly made.
Mea’s gone. Again.
With a heavy sigh, I head off to the shower. I have to open the garage in a little over an hour.
“Boss man!”
Hoover Stone tosses out his usual greeting as he enters the garage through an open bay door. I lift my chin in greeting and he breezes past me to put down his stuff inside the shop. I’ve already opened the office, turning on the two customer service computers and starting the pot of coffee that’s free for customer use. My shop is on the small side, but it’s open and airy and modern, with red leather chairs and a black-and-white checkered floor. I have glass-top side tables scattered around with magazines. It’s a place where people can be comfortable kicking back while they wait for their car to be serviced. I even added free Wi-Fi last year.
The garage is big, with eight bays. I have four full-time mechanics working, but the way business is going I’ll probably have to hire one more by summer. I’m getting my station ready, organizing the tools I’ll need today, when Hoover returns along with Javier Sosa and Will Reeves.
Dare used to have one of the full-time mechanics positions here, too. I hired him when he first moved to town, knowing he’d need a place to work while he got his feet under him. Leaving the army is always an adjustment process, and helping guys out when they’re first discharged is a passion of mine. I’m proud to say that all the guys working in my shop, with the exception of Will, are veterans. Will was still just a kid when I hired him, a teenager with no one at home who gave a shit about him. He was into cars, which I discovered when I found him outside a restaurant one night trying to boost mine. Instead of another charge on his record, I gave him a job. He never looked sideways at a car again, and now, at twenty-three, he’s a damn good mechanic and my shop manager.