Beneath These Scars

by Meghan March

  Fuck the police. They’d done nothing for me last time, and right now I only had an unlocked door freaking me out.

  “I guess I’ll find out when I get inside.”

  Levi lowered the box to the small bistro table on my little deck. “Let me go first.”

  “Baby boy, I’m armed. I’ll go first,” I replied.

  I didn’t wait for him to protest, just pushed the door open and kept my grip on the gun. My apartment was still and quiet. I scanned the room, and Levi stepped in front of me.

  “Jeez, kid.”

  “Like I could let you do this yourself. Or let you go first. I was raised better than that.”

  “I’ve been taking care of myself a long time,” I said with a snort that was more than a little bravado.

  He grunted, and together we moved from room to room. Everything was in its place, right down to the blouse and skirt I’d tried on this morning before work and then tossed on my bed.

  I circled the kitchen again, and that was when I saw it. The glass I always kept next to the sink was upside down in the drying rack.

  A memory crashed into me. The burst of pain as the back of Jay’s hand slammed into my cheekbone, and he murmured words in the quiet, menacing tone that never failed to make my stomach drop. “I told you I didn’t want to see that glass sitting out again. Put the goddamn thing in the dishwasher when you’re done, Yvie. How many times do I have to tell you before it gets through your head? Next time, I’ll break every fucking glass in this house and you can drink out of the goddamn dog bowl.”

  Jay. He was back. He’d been here.

  My skin crawled as if I’d just rolled in fire ants, and ice water filled my veins. Rational thought stopped and instinct kicked in.

  Fight or flight.

  “I can’t stay here tonight,” I blurted and headed for the door. “I can’t. I have to leave.”

  Levi might have said something, but the blood rushed too loudly in my ears for me to hear anything. I was already outside and down the stairs, falling onto the tiny garden bench in the back, before Levi closed the door to my apartment and made his way to me.

  “Yve, what the hell? You’re freaking me out. What’s going on?”

  Razor-sharp shards of helplessness twined around me, tearing through my courage and determination as if it were nothing but tissue paper, and shredding my illusion of safety. I was powerless again. Terrified. Waiting for the other shoe to drop.

  All the horrible feelings I’d spent years eradicating came flooding back. I wrapped my arms tightly around my middle when I whispered, “I can’t stay here. I have to go. He was here.”

  Levi dropped to the bench beside me, and I couldn’t stop the instinctive flinch. He scooted away and gave me some space.

  “Then we’ll go. Let me get the box. You get in the car.”

  I did as I was told while Levi returned the box to the car. When he climbed in and we pulled away, I was already feeling ridiculous. Two blocks away, I wondered if I was imagining things. Could my mind be playing tricks on me? Did I wash the glass?

  No. I knew I hadn’t. Someone had been there.

  So much for not running. Apparently I was just as weak as I’d always been, but running wasn’t the answer.

  “You can take me back. I’m good now. I just . . . freaked,” I told Levi. Embarrassment seeped through me at my overreaction.

  “Um, I don’t think that’s a good idea. You didn’t freak, you flipped the fuck out. I’ve never seen you like that. And if your first instinct was to get out of your place, then I’m going to make sure you stay out—at least for tonight.”

  “No, I’m fine. We can go back.” My skin prickled and my heart hammered even as I said the words. I didn’t want to go back to my apartment; I needed time to toughen up my armor before I went to slay that dragon. It was a momentary weakness. I could allow myself that, right? But only momentary.

  I turned to Levi. “Just drop me at a hotel by the airport. That way you can catch your flight. I don’t want to make you miss it.”

  But Levi turned in the opposite direction and headed for the Garden District. “I have a better idea.”

  “Um, what?”

  “Stay at my place. It’ll be empty, so it’s perfect.”

  It sounded like a great idea. Until I saw his place.

  I turned to Levi. “Who the hell are you?”

  THIS WASN’T THE KIND OF place I should be staying as a guest. A woman like me had more business cleaning this house than curling up between sheets that probably cost more than my car. Hell, even cleaning this house would require a background check. It felt all sorts of wrong to be wandering around it by myself.

  When I’d asked Levi who the hell he was, he’d just smiled and said his brother was loaded and had left the country today on a business trip. I’d stowed the urge to ask more questions, not wanting Levi to miss his flight.

  Please, God, don’t let Levi’s brother be a drug kingpin. That would just be too much for me to handle right now. But then again, if he were some kind of cartel badass, then I guess I was in about the safest place possible. The panel of the security system mounted on the wall by the front door had taken a fourteen-digit code to enter, and I still couldn’t believe I had it.

  This mansion was even bigger than the house my mama’s man lived in. The one she wasn’t ever allowed to go in because she was the mistress. I came from classy roots, no doubt about it. The blood of owned women ran in my veins going back almost a hundred years. It was the family tradition, a dynasty of whores, if you would. And I’d thought I’d been flouting tradition by marrying the man who wanted me. Turned out that marriage to a man like that was an even worse sort of slavery.

  A shudder racked my body. I needed to find something to do before thoughts of Jay had me freaking out again. So I wandered the first floor, avoiding the rooms with closed doors until I smelled chlorine.

  Seriously? An indoor pool?

  As if I needed more evidence Levi’s brother was loaded. I stared longingly through the glass walls at the blue water surrounded by a gorgeous tile mosaic floor in shades of cream, aqua, and gold.

  The house was empty . . .

  Could I indulge a little? I weighed the decision. How often did a girl from Tremé get to use a private indoor pool with one of those lap lanes that let you swim against the current and keep going forever?

  The answer was simple. Almost never.

  And if I were swimming, maybe I could finally shut off my brain before I drove myself crazy. There was just one little problem—I didn’t bring a bathing suit. I pushed through the door to the pool room anyway, breathing in a deep lungful of the chlorine-scented air.

  Again my mind went to the fact that the house was empty. Just little old me rattling around inside. Levi had said his brother wouldn’t be home for a week. I’d be gone tomorrow, so tonight . . . screw it. I kicked off my sandals next to a lounge chair and tugged my shirt up and over my head. My bra followed, and then my skirt and underwear. In for a penny, in for a pound, I thought.

  I strode to the side, curling my toes over the tile edge, and dove in.

  My body relaxed and I breathed a sigh of relief as I broke the surface and swam a few yards underwater. It was the perfect temperature, and the thrill of naughty, decadent freedom built with every pull of my arms and kick of my legs.

  I made my way down the length of the pool, diving under the surface and pushing off the bottom to pop my head up again. Reaching the lap lane, I swam to the side and wondered where the control was that would activate the current. Locating a small panel at the end, I tested the buttons one by one until the current surged to life.

  Win.

  I let it push me backward before lowering my head and paddling against it with what felt like long, smooth strokes. I swam until my arms, shoulders, and thighs burned with fatigue. Finally ready to get out, I let the current sweep me back again until it lessened, and I dropped my feet to the tile bottom and got my footing.

  A low, de
ep voice came from behind me, and I froze.

  “How the hell did you get in here? And more importantly, how can I have you strip on command if you’re already naked?”

  IT HAD BEEN A LONG fucking day.

  I was supposed to be on my way to Dusseldorf right now, but the week of meetings I’d been scheduled to attend had fallen apart three hours ago when the CEO of the supplier had been hospitalized with a heart attack. A quadruple bypass had a way of changing plans. Inconvenient as hell, and yet not a damn thing I could do about it.

  So now I had a rare evening free of plans or commitments. Which meant I’d worked until everyone had left for the day plus another hour before finally heading home.

  I’d planned to do nothing but relax with my cigar and Scotch until I walked past the glass walls of the pool room that stretched along the back quarter of the house. And that was when I saw the intruder.

  What the hell?

  I shoved open the glass door, and my eyes zeroed in on the bare, heart-shaped ass and toned legs that flashed in the water as a woman swam in my lap lane.

  How? I had no idea. Who? Also no fucking clue. But I wasn’t going to interrupt this show for anything. My night had just gotten a whole hell of a lot better.

  She swam for another few minutes before floating out of the current and standing with her back to me. Time to solve the mystery.

  “How the hell did you get in here? And more importantly, how can I have you strip on command if you’re already naked?”

  She spun to face me, all wet, naked curves. Immediately my eyes dropped to her round tits tipped with nipples just a shade darker and pinker than her skin.

  Her mouth dropped open and she screamed. The shrill sound echoed off the glass walls of the room, and she ducked underwater just as she remembered to cover herself.

  A shame, really. My eyes moved up to her face.

  What the hell? Was that—? No way.

  Yve?

  My dick, already hard from watching her swim, pulsed against my zipper. My dress pants would do little to hide my hard-on, but I didn’t give a damn. This was my house, and she was the one trespassing—naked.

  Her expression flashed from confusion to realization, and then morphed into indignation. “What the fuck are you doing here?” she demanded, her words rife with disbelief.

  “What am I doing here? It’s my house.”

  Her brows wrinkled together into a deep V, as if she was working out some complex scenario. “You’re Levi’s brother,” she finally said. “No way. No goddamn way. His name isn’t Titan.”

  Levi. She was fucking my brother? The punk was on his way to New Zealand. Why the hell did he have his girlfriend in my house? And why didn’t I know the woman I haven’t stopped thinking about is fucking my brother? Frustration and anger boiled through me hot and fast.

  “It was before he decided to legally drop it and just go with Levi. Like the kid is Prince or something.”

  It had been a rebellious move as soon as he’d graduated from military school and told me he was going to pursue his career in music. One year living in LA waiting tables had cured him of that, but the legal name change had already been done. Now he was finally back in college, and on an extended mid-semester break. And what did my little brother do? Use his quarterly trust fund distribution to buy a plane ticket to New Zealand to visit a sheep farm or some shit like that.

  Yve couldn’t be involved with Levi. But then, how the hell would she know him if she wasn’t dating him? Levi didn’t exactly have many friends. But if they were together, wouldn’t he have told her who he was? No. He wouldn’t have. That was my brother. Deny the money to the very end, except when he got the bright idea to spend a couple of weeks in New Zealand.

  I still didn’t believe it. She had to be almost ten years older than him. Not that there was anything wrong with that, but wouldn’t I have known? It didn’t make sense.

  “How do you know my brother, and why are you here if he’s on his way to New Zealand?”

  Yve’s gaze on me was hard as she wrapped her arms around her body more tightly, almost as tightly as her lips were pressed together. “He works for me at Dirty Dog. He said no one would be home.”

  His boss? Then she was fair game. Satisfaction pulsed within me.

  “That doesn’t answer my question about why you’re naked in my pool. Not that I don’t appreciate the view.”

  Her cheeks flushed a deeper pink, and the color reminded me of her nipples. My dick once again jerked against my suit pants in response. Now that I’d seen those tits, I’d never get them out of my head. I needed to see them again. Now.

  “Look, I didn’t know,” she said. “I never would’ve come here if I’d known this was your house. He said it’d be empty, and I needed a place to crash for the night.” She lifted her arm, unable to suppress the natural urge to gesture, and the movement revealed a flash of nipple.

  Come on, gorgeous. Throw yourself at me like the rest of them. I’ll fucking catch you.

  Flushing deeper when she realized what she’d done, Yve slapped her arm back down to cover any other accidental peeks, and sank further beneath the surface.

  Some of the most beautiful women I’d ever seen had performed intricately planned stripteases, and that little flash of nipple from Yve Santos was having more of an effect on my cock. Apparently my dick had declared its preference for honey-tanned skin, dark brown waves, and eyes the color of amber.

  I wasn’t going to argue with it, because I wanted her. So I would have her. That was how life worked when you were Lucas Titan.

  “I think you’ve overstayed your welcome in my pool,” I drawled.

  “Then how about you hand me a towel?” she shot back.

  “I think you’re capable of getting it yourself, woman.”

  Her eyes widened in shock. Was she expecting a gentleman? I wasn’t in the mood. No, I wanted to see Yve dripping wet and naked. I wondered if she’d turn this into a battle of wills. The thought turned me on even more.

  What was it about this woman?

  She straightened her shoulders even as she hugged herself again. “You’re a dick, you know that?”

  “I’m aware. It’s also my house, my pool, and my rules.”

  Mulish. That was the only word I could use to describe her expression. Would she do it?

  Her eyes narrowed on me with that strange and haunting golden-amber color. “Fine. If you insist.” She dropped her arms, stood tall, and walked toward me, every bare, naked inch of skin slick with water.

  Fuuuck.

  She made her way to the stairs, and my eyes were riveted on her as she climbed out.

  Jesus. Fucking. Christ.

  I swallowed hard, but fought to maintain my trademark smug smile. Yve’s body could stop a rampaging mob in its tracks. My resolve to have her under me shot up to needs to happen right the fuck now.

  She stared me down, which surprised me. Most women didn’t have the guts to do it. I could think of only one who’d gone toe to toe with me, and sadly, she now belonged to another man.

  Yve was in a class all her own, though. Round, high tits, a narrow waist, and a smooth, gently curved stomach flowed into the sinfully perfect flare of her hips. Naked, proud, and sexy as fuck, she strode toward me. I expected her to go right for the stack of towels, but she didn’t.

  My cock, already hard, surged against my zipper, testing its strength. She stopped in front of me.

  “As big of a dick as you are, I hope you’ve got the equipment to match.” Her hand shot out, and before I could guess her intent, her fist wrapped around my cock.

  “Jesus fuck, woman—” I grunted.

  “Don’t you ever try to humiliate me again, you rich prick.” She squeezed my dick in warning, and Christ almighty if it didn’t get even harder.

  But I wouldn’t back down from anyone, even now. So I repaid her in kind, reaching out a hand to cup her lush, full breast. Good God, did I want to fuck those tits.

  She swallowed and jerke
d, but not before I rolled her nipple between my thumb and finger and squeezed. Her pupils dilated. She wanted this. Wanted me.

  A rush of power laced my pumping blood. She was wild—and unpredictable if my dick in her hand was any indication. But I would bend her to my will. And we’d both fucking love it.

  Her grip on my cock tightened again.

  “You getting a good feel for it, Yve? Getting wet thinking about how I’d stretch your tight little cunt and fill you up?”

  She sucked in a sharp breath. “You have no shame, do you?”

  I shook my head slowly. She might have had me nearly by the balls, but I was still the only predator in this room.

  “None at all. In fact, I’d give a whole hell of a lot to watch you sink to your knees right now so I could fuck that sassy mouth of yours.”

  She swallowed, and once again, moved faster than I anticipated. Before I knew it, she released her grip as her other palm cracked against my cheek.

  I caught her wrist midair as she pulled it back for another run at me. “You get one. That’s it.”

  “Let. Go. Of. Me.” Yve spat the words from between gritted teeth.

  “For now.” I released her wrist and she spun, stalking stiffly to the towels.

  My dick, missing her grip already, throbbed at the sight of her perfectly heart-shaped ass, and I bit back a groan. Mmm. That ass.

  She wrapped a towel around her, covering all that smooth, sleek skin—skin that I could spend hours tasting—and turned as she jammed a corner of the towel between her breasts.

  Her eyes flashed with anger. “You’re an asshole.”

  “That’s not news,” I replied. “What is news, however, is that you’ve got the most perfect tits and ass I’ve ever seen.”

  The dusky hue of her nipples once again stained her sharp cheekbones. “An asshole and a pig.”

  “And you’ve got a lot of explaining to do. Dry off, and I’ll meet you in the conservatory. I have a feeling this is going to require Scotch.” I stepped toward the door of the pool room, and paused. “In case you haven’t familiarized yourself with the house beyond the pool, the conservatory is in the east wing. Next door after you pass the library.”