by Cari Quinn
“Blue?” She frowned. “But Carly’s favorite color is red.”
“So why did you ask? Get red.”
“But the blue goes better with the cake. Kizzy’s doing one with purple frosting. She said she saw the perfect cake online at Kiss Kakes, this fancy bakery in Salem. She wanted to just order one from there but the shipping would’ve been crazy expensive.”
I’d tuned out after she mentioned us having to eat something Kizzy made. “Kizzy’s baking the cake? Are we going to die? Why can’t Carly make it?”
“She can’t bake her own birthday cake. That’s not right.”
An image of Mia in an apron and nothing else sprang to mind—and sprang other parts of me into instant wakefulness. “You can’t bake?”
Mia was still too busy studying the candles to reply. I grabbed both boxes, threw them in our cart, and nudged her forward. “Problem solved. Next?”
She didn’t move. “I can’t just buy whatever I want, Fox. My budget won’t allow it.”
I could always tell when she was irritated because I suddenly went back to being Fox. “I know that, babe. But I don’t have to worry about it, so we’re good. Get whatever you need.”
If someone said that to me, I’d be happy. But not my girl. Nope, she slitted her eyes and jolted the cart until it bumped my thigh.
“I’m not with you for your money.”
“I figured, since you won’t take any.” I decided to just keep shopping—sad when that became my preferred out—and hoped that she’d get with the program. “So what else do we need?”
“It’s what else do I need. You’re not responsible for providing things. You’re a guest.”
Getting annoyed wouldn’t help anything. Certain areas between us would remain tenuous until she got used to being in a relationship. I didn’t have it all nailed down myself. “I’m your guy. That means I’m throwing the party too.”
“You’re a guest,” she stressed, walking past me.
“Goddammit, Mia, stop being so fucking stubborn. Yeah, you have brass balls. I know it. I see it every day. But when we’re outside the gym, it’s not all your way or the highway. I have the right to put my foot down about something.”
She swiveled toward me. “Like what?”
I leaned across the cart and braced my elbow, holding my fist in the air. “Arm wrestle me.”
Her lips twitched. “Why?”
“Just do it.” She rolled up her sleeve and gripped my hand. “Count of three. Ready?”
Her chin quivered with the smile she couldn’t quite hold back. “Ready.”
“One. Two. Three.” I didn’t check my strength and took her down with one swift movement. She resisted admirably, but I’d never allow myself to lose with something so important on the line.
Besides, I knew my opponent. She had tons of power in her legs. Her arms were weaker. I’d been working them relentlessly for the last week and a half for that reason.
I hadn’t been sleeping, thinking of that weakness rearing its head in the ring with that asshole Costas. We’d worked out a strategy for the fight where she’d draw on her strengths—her speed and agility, how adept she was at Muay Thai, and her kicks—and we’d practiced it endlessly. That would have to be enough.
“I won.” I finally released her hand. A few other shoppers were eyeing us, but that was nothing new. We tended to attract attention wherever we went. Fighting as easily as we breathed might’ve had something to do with that.
She rubbed her wrist. “No shit, Sherlock. Why you wanted to arm wrestle me in the grocery store is my question.”
I stepped closer and pressed my mouth to her temple, speaking just loud enough for her to hear. “You promised me a night if I won. All night, in my bed. My rules. No tapping out.” I tipped up her chin. “I’m collecting tonight.”
“Uh-uh. That only applied to our fight. Since we’re not fighting, you lose that condition.”
“Show me the written proof.”
“Tray—”
“Back to Tray.” I smiled triumphantly. Yeah, she was weakening. Big time. “You know you want to spend the night with me. We have been most nights anyway.”
We’d spent them watching movies and hanging out with Carly, Slater, and Kizzy, when she wasn’t on the warpath over Pierce. Basically, we were getting used to being a couple. It was weird…and nice.
“Yeah, but tonight’s Carly’s birthday.” She bit her lip. “All night? At your place?”
“Mmm-hmm. All night in my bed.”
“But your eye—”
I cupped her cheek, rubbing my thumb over her wet lower lip. “Be with me.”
Releasing a shaky breath, she nodded. “I—I need…”
I rubbed against her, slow and determined. She’d started lowering her walls with me, but I was greedy and wanted more. I wanted all of her. “Tell me, baby.”
“Napkins. And plastic silverware.” She jerked away and disappeared down the next aisle while I smothered a chuckle.
That was my Mia. If you didn’t launch a sneak attack, she’d block and defend like a pro.
A few minutes later we walked out to the parking lot to my car. That was something else we’d been doing the last couple of weeks—driving. I’d taken my car out of long term storage to teach her, despite her freaking out about refreshing her rusty skills on a ’Vette. Perfectionist that she was, she’d remembered the basics pretty quickly. We’d mostly practiced in parking lots and on back roads. We’d also gone to Long Island and I showed her some of my old haunts. She’d been okay driving there, if a little uncertain.
Now it was time to build her confidence.
“Heads up.” She juggled her shopping bag as I tossed her the keys. “You drive.”
“What? Out here? No. I can’t. I’ll get arrested.”
“Yell a little louder, why don’t you? I don’t think the cop at DD heard.” Rolling my eyes, I pulled down the passenger seat and shoved my bags behind it. “Stop being a wuss. We’re like ten blocks from your place.”
She handed me her bag and I piled it on the others. “I don’t know. What if—”
“Get behind the wheel. I’ll help keep you calm, I promise.”
She rubbed her palms on the thighs of her jeans. “How?”
“Stop stalling. We have stuff to do at your place before Carly gets back.”
“Okay, okay.” She rounded the hood.
I got in the passenger side, pushing the seat way back. I shut the door and strapped in as she did the same, watching with amusement as she went through all her pre-driving checks. Move the seat closer. Adjust the rearview mirror. Fiddle with the seatbelt. Then, finally, putting the car into gear, checking over her shoulder—both of them—and inching backward.
“I hate reversing,” she muttered.
“You’re doing fine. Just stay steady on the gas. Don’t forget your turn signal.”
“I remembered it. I wasn’t ready yet.” She navigated around a forgotten shopping cart, hit her signal and crept into traffic. Good thing we were on a residential street, because she was doing about fourteen miles an hour, with occasional surges to sixteen.
“Turn off here.”
“Why? That’s not the way back to my place.”
God, her nerves were so cute. Why didn’t I find them annoying? I couldn’t figure it out. “It’s the scenic route.”
“Scenic means more than ten blocks.” But she dutifully switched on her signal and turned onto the next block.
“Just relax.”
“Relaxing,” she mumbled, scanning in all directions while tightening her fingers around the wheel.
I shifted my hand to her thigh and she jolted. “Easy. It’s important to be aware of your surroundings while driving. You have to stay alert no matter what’s going on.”
“Yeah.”
Nonchalantly, I toyed with the zipper of her jeans. Tugged it down. “I thought we’d do a little experiment.”
She shot me a panicked look, but I didn’t miss the e
dge of excitement in her expression. It magnified when I nudged aside her panties. She’d exchanged the first animal print pair for one in her size and I actually found it hotter than hell, minus the Juicy on her ass. I slipped my finger down her lips. Wetness slicked my skin.
“Tray,” she half whispered, half moaned.
I pressed deeper, circling the stiffening nub of flesh. “Open your legs for me.”
She swallowed loudly enough for me to hear and parted her knees, jamming her foot down on the pedal in the process. “Dammit. There’s a cop up there.”
“Just drive. Slow and easy. Rock your hips.”
“I can’t do this.”
“You are.” When she set her jaw, I drew my finger slightly away. “Want me to stop?”
She shook her head. “No. You know I don’t.”
I hid my smile, but barely. I waited until we’d cruised past the cop before unsnapping my belt and leaning closer to lick the hollow of her collarbone. She stifled a cry in her throat and I pushed deeper, harder. “See how much I trust you? I’ve had this car since I was sixteen. I lost my virginity in it, about five times over.”
“You’re fucking crazy,” she gasped.
“Probably.” Laughing, I licked up the side of her neck, finding that crevice between her jaw and ear that always smelled so good. “Next time we’ll try this with my face in your lap. That’s the advanced level.”
“Jesus. Do you want me to…wreck…your…car?” She was concentrating so hard that she started braking for a stop light halfway up the block.
“No. I want you to come on my hand. On my fingers. I want to feel you pulsing as I push inside you.”
She didn’t say anything, but her breathing had gone shallow and fast. She wrapped her hands around the wheel, as tightly her thighs were clutching my hand.
“Two?” I knew what she wanted. What she needed.
Silently, she lifted her hips, giving me the room to slide two fingers into her snug wet slit. I groaned as they bottomed out inside her, flexing them before I retreated and sank in again. Her body clasped me and she hit the gas, rolling through a light just before it turned red.
“You little lawbreaker.” I bit her neck and she moaned, gyrating her ass. I rubbed the side of my thumb over her clit and she whimpered. “You’re turned on by this, aren’t you? That’s why you’re so wet. So wet for me, baby.”
“Tray. God. Don’t stop.”
“Never.” I glanced out the windshield. “Turn here. Signal first.”
She did, grumbling under her breath. Then I rubbed her clit, hard, while surging my fingers deep. She shattered, her hot arousal wetting my palm. She bucked and clamped her legs around me, keeping me in place while she rode out her orgasm. Still quaking, she tapped the gas just hard enough to get us to the next light.
“Beautiful.” I kissed her shoulder and eased back, hating to leave her warmth as much as she protested my exit. “Turn here. Go left.”
After going left, she cut me a glance. I chose that moment to slip my index finger into my mouth. “Mmm.”
“God, Tray.” She trembled. “You’re so bad.”
I grinned. “Admit it. You like it.”
She gave me a hint of a smile as she refocused on the road. “Yeah. I do.” She cast a quick glance at my lap. “Guess I’ll have to return the favor later. If you’re good.”
“So what you’re telling me is I’ll be one-handing it tonight?”
Her laughter was the sweetest sound I’d ever heard. Each time, I wondered if it would be the last. I couldn’t shake the feeling that if I blinked, we’d be over.
I didn’t want to think like that. I wasn’t a pessimist by nature, the past few months of discontent aside. But as happy as Mia made me, she also made me more terrified than I’d ever been in my life.
The possibility of losing her—of being left to wonder what we could’ve been—was more than I could face. So I didn’t.
Instead I savored her flavor on my tongue as we shared a private grin. And I fought to hold on, harder than I’d ever fought in my life.
When we walked up the hall to her apartment, hand in hand and juggling bags, we were too busy laughing to notice who had camped out in front of her door.
“Yo. Not a-fuckin-gain.” Kizzy jumped to her feet, jostling precariously the covered cake pan she held. “I’m sitting here waiting with a cake I slaved over all day while you two were out engaging in pleasures of the flesh?”
“I engaged in no pleasures,” I said soberly, only to have Mia stomp on my toe.
“Then why does she have a sex glow?”
“I do not. God.” Mia pulled out the key, jammed it in the door, and headed inside.
I motioned to Kizzy to follow. “She’s lying,” I said in a deliberately loud whisper. “She absolutely has a sex glow.”
Kizzy slapped Mia on the ass. “I knew it. You’re such a shameless skank.”
Except Mia wasn’t smiling anymore.
Neither was I.
I watched Mia carefully set her bag on the counter. Too carefully. Her face had closed down like an under baked cake sinking in on itself. Her eyes had shuttered. Sex glow—gone.
Kizzy was her usual oblivious self, stomping around the kitchen and rampaging about glitter sprinkles and pudding filling. Mia put things away and didn’t reply to Kizzy’s tirade. Then she excused herself and went to the bathroom while I stared up at the ceiling and wondered what the hell to do.
I didn’t know how much Kizzy knew, so I couldn’t tell her to watch her mouth. For that matter, I wasn’t supposed to know anything myself. Mia had never mentioned telling me anything again after that moment in the locker room and I definitely hadn’t pushed it.
Besides, how could I be sure she’d intended to tell me about the kidnapping? Maybe she’d planned to tell me about her and…those guys. Damn that bartender at Vinnie’s for pantomiming Mia’s back room activities and putting that picture in my head. I really didn’t need to know. It wasn’t going on now—it couldn’t be. So none of that was important, unless she wanted to tell me.
But the skank comment had hit home for a reason. Either because of that fucker who’d imprisoned her or because of the men she’d…serviced. I didn’t know. I could make her come, but I couldn’t figure out how to fix the broken places inside her. I wasn’t even sure where they all were.
“She didn’t even look at my cake.” Kizzy dropped the thing on the counter and yanked off the lid.
“I’m sure she’ll be right out.”
“Probably brushing her teeth.” She stuck her tongue in her cheek in an obvious imitation of a blowjob and grinned.
I didn’t grin back.
“Hey, what’s wrong? You guys seemed cool when you came down the hall.”
“We were.”
She drew her brows together. “Then what’s the problem?”
I sucked in a breath and swallowed all of it—the regret I couldn’t make it better, the recrimination I hadn’t already told Mia what I knew, the helplessness. Especially the helplessness. “She’s sensitive about certain things. So you know, if you could not make the skank comments, that’d probably help.”
Her eyes narrowed. “You know about that?”
So those guys and the blowjobs were a real thing. Down deep, I’d hoped otherwise. “Not exactly. Just rumors. It doesn’t make a difference to me. What happened before doesn’t matter.”
“Yes, it does.”
We both looked up guiltily as Mia stopped on the threshold of the kitchen.
“It matters that I can’t take a joke. It matters that my…someone I’m seeing has to wonder what he’ll hear about me next. And that most likely, it’ll be true.” She rubbed her wrist over her mouth. “But I can’t take any of it back. It’s who I am.”
“No, it’s not. It’s part of your past, but it’s not you.” I couldn’t stop myself from going to her. Sometimes it felt like there was a cord between us, and if she stretched too far, I’d snap back. “I’ve done things I’m
not proud of too—”
“Have you ever given someone oral sex for twenty bucks?” she asked in a dead voice. “Have you let a guy come in your throat and then rushed to the clinic to make sure they didn’t give you something that would cost a hell of a lot more than a Jackson to fix?” When I didn’t answer, a corner of her mouth lifted. “No, Fox. You haven’t. But I have. Over and over again. Don’t worry though, I don’t have anything. I’m clean.” Her equally dead eyes met mine. “If you can believe me.”
“I believe you.”
“Why?”
I didn’t want to be having this discussion in front of Kizzy. Absolutely did not. That didn’t mean I could walk away from it. “Because I don’t have a choice,” I gritted out, wishing I could pull her close and shield her from all of this. “People make mistakes every day. Tomorrow you get up and you try again. The people who care, the ones who matter, will stick by you.”
She stared down at her feet. She’d taken off her shoes and socks and her bare unpainted toes made her seem horribly vulnerable. “Why? Why would anyone stick with me? All I do is push people away. I hurt them.” She lifted her head and stared me in the eye, unflinchingly. “I hurt you.”
“Because we love you,” Kizzy said hoarsely, blinking too fast. Still not dispelling the sheen in her eyes.
Tears weren’t all that far away for me either. Mine gathered in my throat, swelling into a fist that blocked my airway.
And from Mia, nothing. Just a blank stare.
Mia turned and gripped the counter. “We bought wine,” she said, sounding distant. “I don’t want Carly to have too much, but it’s her eighteenth birthday. She should have fun with her friends.”
I looked at Kizzy, who was gazing at me. Neither one of us had a damn clue what to do. Call Carly, she mouthed, but I shook my head. I couldn’t drag her into this mess, not on her birthday. We’d dug this grave, so somehow we would figure out how to draw Mia back out of that silent, scary place she’d retreated into.
Yet again we were slapping a patch on the wound, but it would have to do for now. She had a fight tomorrow, and I’d be damned if she got hurt because we forced an issue she wasn’t ready to face.
I wasn’t sure I was ready either. Maybe I wouldn’t ever be. How could I be ready to listen to her talk about being hurt? How could I ever let her put her mouth on me and not think she was imagining a money transaction afterward?