Pretty Broken Bastard

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Pretty Broken Bastard Page 15

by Jeana E. Mann


  “I don’t. My fiancée is a cousin of the groom.” I winced at his reference to the woman who’d replaced me. She stared at us, her smile drifting into a frown of confusion. By dumping me, he’d advanced his position in society. “Shouldn’t you be in jail?” he asked, his eyes hardening. “You missed your court date.”

  “I—um—” I floundered in the effort to make a snappy comeback. Why did he make me feel so inadequate? Frustration and anger welled up inside me.

  “Harold?” His fiancée placed a hand on his forearm. Her eyes widened in warning. “Don’t make a scene.”

  “This is Jo. I’ve told you about her. She’s the one who broke into my apartment.”

  “Our apartment,” I said, finding my voice at last. “You know, the one with my name on the lease.”

  “Any questions for Ms. Hollander will need to be directed to me. She’s retained my services as legal counsel,” Calloway said, stepping from behind Carter.

  Harold smiled, his gaze bouncing from me to Calloway and back again. “Is this a joke?”

  “Ms. Hollander has filed a countersuit for compensation owed to her in the loss of her apartment and possessions as well as damages resulting from her wrongful arrest. I’ve also submitted a request to drop the protective order.” He gave me a shrewd smile. “In the meantime, I’d suggest you lawyer up, Mr. Rodgers, because we’ll be suing the proverbial pants off you.”

  The color drained from Harold’s already pale face. “Jo, you can’t be serious.”

  I opened my mouth to speak, but Calloway lifted a finger to stop me. “Ms. Hollander has nothing further to say, Mr. Rodgers. If you have any requests, you can have your attorney contact me on Monday. Now, I suggest you go back to your side of the room and leave my client in peace.”

  I watched Harold slink away, his confused fiancée trotting on his heels. “You couldn’t possibly have done all that on a weekend,” I said to Calloway.

  He gave me a wink. “No, but he doesn’t know that.”

  “That guy’s a dick,” Carter said, looking down at me.

  “I realize that,” I replied dryly. Had I been so desperate for a boyfriend that I’d overlooked Harold’s obvious flaws? Nothing about his personality or appearance appealed to me anymore. All I could think about was how imposing Carter looked standing next to him, how I wanted to run my fingers through his hair and rain kisses on his handsome face.

  “I’ll see you in my office next week Ms. Hollander,” Calloway said. “If you’ll excuse me, my wife is giving me a dirty look. Apparently, I’m in trouble again.” He winked and downed his bourbon in one gulp. “You two have a lovely evening.”

  “Thanks, I appreciate your help.”

  He extended a hand. I took it in both of mine and gave him a smile. With a parting nod, he weaved his way across the room and disappeared into the crowd.

  Carter’s hand moved lower on my back to the upper swell of my buttock and squeezed. Warmth returned to his eyes as he gazed down at me. “Shall we get the fuck out of here?”

  “I thought you’d never ask,” I said, breathing a sigh of relief.

  He yanked on the tail of his bowtie, pulled it from his collar, and dropped it onto the tray of a passing waiter. The rough grasp of his hand found mine, threading through my fingers. “What’s the quickest way to the parking lot?” he asked the waiter.

  “Through the French doors to the terrace. Down the path on the left.” He pointed a finger toward the gardens. “Around the bend and past the gazebo.”

  “Thanks.” He gave the man a nod and pulled me in the indicated direction.

  I trotted next to him, heels tapping on the ballroom floor. We breezed past the other guests and onto the terrace. Carter unbuttoned the collar of his shirt. Our feet crunched on the gravel, my heels tottering on the uneven surface. He gripped my hand tighter.

  “Slow down. I’m going to break an ankle.” I winced as the stones cut through the thin soles of my shoes. “Wait. Just a second.” I kicked off my shoes and picked them up by the straps, letting them dangle from the fingers of my free hand.

  “Better?”

  “Yes.” Something about the way he looked at me erased the bitter taste left by the encounter with Harold.

  “Come on,” he said, in his gruff voice.

  Clasping hands again, we ran across the lawn toward the parking lot and freedom. The cool grass tickled my bare feet. The sprinklers erupted before we reached the other side. Droplets of water arched through the air. He tugged me through the spray, his eyes dark and playful. His mischievous nature was one of the things I loved best about him, and he never failed to surprise me. If he’d been affected by the words of his father, he didn’t act like it.

  “You’re ruining my dress,” I said.

  “I’ll buy you another one.” The promise in his tone made my pulse leap. Did that mean we weren’t over yet? I’d assumed the end of the weekend would signal the end of our relationship. I wished, with all my heart, that I was wrong.

  Chapter 25

  Carter

  The drive home flashed past in a blur of laughter and smiles. I hadn’t felt this lighthearted since—well, ever. This had been one of the best and worst weeks of my life. I’d faced down the judgmental stares of my father’s crowd and lived to tell about it. Having Jo at my side, seeing her with Harold, hearing his condescending words, made me realize how inconsequential my problems were. Those people—Reagan and Senator Mayfield—they might be my blood relations, but they weren’t my family. I could pick and choose how much influence they carried in my life.

  Behind Jo’s smiles, I sensed the wheels turning in her brain. Was she obsessing over Harold? I wanted to ask but couldn’t bear to hear the answer if she said yes. All I could think about was how badly I wanted her, how much I wanted this euphoria to continue beyond tonight and tomorrow and the next day and the next.

  When we reached home, she went straight to the elevator. “I can’t wait to get out of this dress,” she said. “Can you undo my zipper?” With her right hand, she swept her hair to one side, baring the slim column of her neck.

  “Sure.” My hand trembled as I pulled on the tab. I blamed it on the vibration of the elevator and the aged mechanism. The dress gave way, slipping down to her shoulders. She caught it to her chest with one hand. I longed to run a finger down the groove of her spine and press a kiss to the soft skin between her shoulder blades, because I was gone—totally, completely, and irretrievably gone—for her.

  “Are you hungry? Because I’m starved,” she said. “I could go for some leftover pizza.”

  “Sounds good. I’ll bring some up.”

  After changing into a pair of sweats, I brought up the pizza and a couple of cold beers. I entered my bedroom, pulse sprinting. Jo came out of the bathroom, rubbing her cotton candy lotion onto her hands, the sweet scent setting fire to my blood, wearing my T-shirt again, her hair spilling down her back. There was something oddly normal about the scene, like she belonged here, like we did this every day. And how great would that be? Instead of vast emptiness, to find Jo in my bedroom when I came home from work each night? She smiled at me, and I forgot to breathe. I needed to say something, anything to break the silence. The window of opportunity to make her mine grew narrower as the seconds passed. We settled in the center of the enormous bed, the open pizza box between us, a nonsensical comedy playing on the television at low volume.

  “I’m sorry about Harold,” I said, choosing my words carefully. “I didn’t know he’d be there.”

  “It’s alright,” she said through a mouthful of pepperoni pizza. “I kind of enjoyed the look on his face when he saw me, and especially when Calloway gave him his business card.” Her smile lit up the room and my heart. “That was priceless.”

  “Yeah.” Canned laughter echoed from the TV. Jo picked the pepperonis from her pizza slice and ate them one by one. We fell silent again. I became hyperaware of every blink of her eyes and nuance of her expression, dying to know what was happening ins
ide her fascinating, pretty head.

  “I’m sorry about your dad and the way everyone looked at you. I don’t like him.” The fingers of her left hand curled into a fist. “And I’m on the fence about Reagan. Why would she invite you into that kind of environment unless she had an ulterior motive?”

  I lowered my pizza to the plate and thought about her question. Why indeed? “We’ve known each other for about a year. She had no idea that I existed. I ran into her at a benefit for wounded soldiers last summer. I was there with Mom. Reagan put two and two together and figured it out. She said seeing me was like taking a trip back in time and meeting our father.” I shook my head, remembering the way she’d cornered me and demanded answers. “Of course, I denied the connection, but she kept turning up at my office. That girl is like a bloodhound. Eventually, she hired a private detective and sniffed out the connection between my mom and the senator. He was really pissed.” I snorted at the memory of his red-faced outrage.

  “She probably used the truth to blackmail him. Apparently, that’s a big thing in your family,” Jo said between bites of food. I choked. She pounded my back until I found my breath again. “She overshared a lot in the short time we talked. I can see why your dad is so big on non-disclosures.”

  “In his line of work, you can’t be too careful. In fact, that’s why he wanted to talk to me. He’s worried you’ll spill the family secrets to the press or the tabloids.”

  Her mouth, which had popped open, snapped shut again. She moistened her lips. “I’d never do that.”

  “I know. I trust you.” Trust was a rare commodity in my world, something I didn’t give lightly.

  “You could always blackmail me to keep my mouth shut,” she said, cocking a saucy eyebrow. “You know, family traditions and all.”

  “I can think of better uses for your mouth,” I said, my gaze falling to her lips.

  “A-a-a-nd he’s back.” She pushed her plate aside and groaned, patting her stomach, unfazed by my comment. “I ate too much.”

  “Am I fucking up again?” I asked, searching her face.

  “No. I like that you say what you mean. Don’t ever stop.”

  I moved the pizza and plates to the dresser and stretched out on the bed beside her. We stared at each other for a minute before Jo lowered to her side, facing me with her head propped on her hand. Blood thundered through my veins, spurred by the tender heat in her eyes. Usually, that kind of look would be my cue to burn rubber, but not this time. Not with her.

  “About the other night, at the hotel, I should have told you about the warrant right away.”

  “That was a dick move, Eckhouse. I’m still a little pissed about it.”

  “I know, and you should be. My timing is bad. I don’t have any experience with these things. I’m great with a pickup line, but I have no idea what happens after the sex part.” She rolled her eyes, but a half smile played on her lips. “I want to find out—with you. I love you.” The confession leaped from my heart to my mouth before my brain could censor it. A cold sweat sprang up on my forehead.

  Her breath stuttered, breasts rising and falling, nipples plainly visible through my shirt. “Carter, I—”

  “Before you say no, just listen.” I blew out a deep breath and dove headlong into dangerous territory. I’d never been so nervous before. Then again, I’d never laid my heart out on a platter for anyone either. “I know you don’t do relationships and neither do I, but what if we both agreed to not see anyone else—together, at the same time, with each other?”

  “You really are bad at this,” she said, and I couldn’t decide if she was trying not to laugh or getting angry. “But keep going.”

  “That’s it. That’s all I’ve got.” The saliva in my mouth had dried up, leaving my tongue fat and fuzzy. I cleared my throat, conscious of a scalding heat in my face. “Was it that bad?”

  “No, it was sweet and perfect.” She sat up, gathering her legs beneath her, and cupped my face, her touch light and tender.

  “Is that a yes?”

  “It’s a maybe.” Her pupils expanded, darkening her irises to black. “Before I can answer, I need to know, the other night, did you fuck someone else?”

  With a thumb on her chin, I tipped her face to mine, searching, hoping to find the motive in her question. Did she have feelings for me? More than anything, I wanted her to be jealous. I wanted her to stake a claim on me. Rhett’s words replayed in my head. Being in a relationship isn’t a nuisance, it’s a privilege. Now, I understood his point. I felt like I’d been gutted, my heart exposed and beating in the open air.

  “When you came home late, I assumed—” The white edge of her upper teeth worried her pink bottom lip. “I just assumed you hooked up with someone.”

  Of course, she did, because that was my pattern. I prowled the bars looking for anonymous sex. Shame heated my face. I shoved it away, deep inside, to drag out and dissect at a later time. Right now, my skin itched. The kind of itch that only she could scratch. I opened my mouth to reply, but she stopped me with a finger to my lips.

  “It’s okay if you did. We weren’t—aren’t—together. But you need to know that when I’m with someone, I’m with them. I’m all in. I don’t cheat. If we’re together, I’ll expect you to do the same.”

  I didn’t want to get my hopes up, but this sounded promising. “I haven’t been with anyone since this started between us.” I hadn’t even looked in the direction of another woman. Jo had been the only female on my mind. No one compared. No one.

  “Because I can give you what you need, right?” Her hand smoothed down my abdomen and inside my sweats, fingers tightening around my erection, squeezing, punishing, demanding. I hissed at the pleasure-pain, enjoying her flirty tone as much as her confidence.

  “Yes.” I grunted. Lust tugged deep in my belly, contracting my balls. I cupped the left cheek of her bottom, letting my fingers dip into the tender flesh between her ass and her upper thigh.

  “If I agree to be with you, I’ll take care of you, Carter. I’ll make sure you’re satisfied in bed and everywhere else, but you have to treat me right.” Her palm slid up my shaft. I swallowed and tried to speak. Nothing came out. When I met her gaze, she had a smirk, like she was enjoying my confusion. “No more withholding information. You have to be honest and upfront about everything, even if you think it’ll upset me.”

  “I will. I promise.” I held my breath, mesmerized when she bent, took my nipple ring between her teeth, and tugged.

  “Okay, then.” She pushed me onto the bed with more force than I thought possible for such a petite girl. “Just so you know, I’m in love with you too.”

  Using both hands, she drew the hem of the shirt over her head and tossed it aside. My heart skipped a beat at the sight of her flawless skin, the flat stretch of her belly, and the tiny triangle of her white cotton thong. I placed a hand on the small of her back, drawing her closer. The warmth of her bare back permeated my palm. With my free hand, I cupped one of her breasts, thumbing the tip until it jutted out.

  “What am I going to do with you?” I asked, shaking my head. The ache in my balls escalated to a throb. “You’re a handful.”

  “Shut up, Carter. You’re talking too much,” she said, right before she kissed me.

  Chapter 26

  Jo

  In the morning, I awoke to a heavy, male arm wrapped around my waist, and Carter’s muscular chest glued against my back. Looking at him, naked and glorious, the bedsheets tangled around his narrow hips, made my heart race. He’d kept me close all night, pulling me into him, curling his body around mine. It was the best feeling in the world. I felt protected and cherished, like he truly appreciated my presence. Now that we were sort of, kind of seeing each other, I wasn’t sure how to handle myself. I decided to take a shower and clean up before pondering all the changes in my life. The hot stream of water soothed my aching muscles and battered body. I closed my eyes and let myself relax for the first time in weeks. A knock on the bathroom door sen
t my heart into palpitations.

  “Mind if I join you?” Carter’s voice rumbled from outside the shower.

  I peeked around the glass wall partition to find him standing in the center of the bathroom. “It’s your shower. You don’t need my permission.”

  A smirk curled his lips. He strode toward me, naked and confident. I bit my lower lip, mesmerized by the flat stretch of his belly, the cut of muscle below his hip bones, and the long, thick length of his cock between hard thighs. “You’re like a fantasy come true,” he said. His eyes darkened as they swept down the span of my nude body.

  “So are you.” I shivered at the heat in his eyes. He drew a fingertip down my sternum.

  “If I asked you to get on your knees for me, would you?”

  “Yes.” I swallowed past the thickness in my throat. I kneeled in front of him, holding his hips. The granite tile bit into my knees, but I didn’t care. This was erotic as hell. I’d kneel on broken glass if he asked me. He fisted a hand in the hair at my nape. Using the one hand, he tilted my face to look at him. I blinked against the spray of water at my back.

  “Open.” The pad of his thumb swept over my lip. Obediently, I opened my mouth, eager to taste the salt of his skin. With his free hand, he held the base of his cock. It jutted out, swollen and dark. His voice was harsh and broken. “Suck.”

  I did as he requested. Not because I owed him a dozen favors or because I felt intimidated. I did it because I wanted to give him pleasure. And I knew, without asking, that he’d give back more than I gave him, because that was the way he was.

  With both hands gripping his ass for control, I let him fuck my mouth, slowly at first then in short, jabbing thrusts. The water beat down on my shoulders and back. The head of his cock brushed the back of my throat, bringing tears to my eyes. He threw his head back, braced one hand against the wall behind me, and groaned. When his legs began to shake, I knew he was close. I cupped a hand over his balls and kneaded. He began to plead and praise me in broken sentences. In that moment, I held all the power in our relationship.

 

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