Unshed tears lined her lower lids when she finally looked up. “That's what you said before. Don't you get it, B? It didn't end well. You left me. I told you…. You knew, and you signed a very cut-and-dried document stating I could never reach out to you again, never find you, never mention we ever happened. I woke up in the hospital alone. Alone and scared. You turned your back on me when I needed you most. That's why I hate you.”
She choked back a sob but couldn't stop the tears from escaping and falling down her cheeks.
“You paid me off. The money put me through undergrad. So every class, every book I bought, I thought of you and how to you I was a disposable fling. I loved you, you fucking bastard.”
Her palms connected roughly with my shoulders. The hard concrete of the store floor did nothing to absorb the impact of my ass slamming against it. Still in shock at her assault, I stayed sitting on the floor as she shoved from the chair to stand over me.
Gone was the insecurity. Gone was the sadness.
Pissed-off Beks glared down with hurt and anger in her honey brown eyes.
The idea of her taking the money didn't sit well, especially since I had no fucking clue why she was paid off. She still wasn't telling the full truth about our story. And yeah, I was fucking pissed at myself for not remembering. I shouldn't take my anger and frustrations out on her, but like she and I had discussed the night before, I was an asshole and always got the final word.
“Sounds like you weren't too heartbroken over losing me like you've been making it out to be. What was I worth? Couple hundred grand? A million? Tell me, Rebeka, what price tag did you put on us?”
“Fuck you.”
“Believe me, baby, I'm dying to, but you said no touching.”
The fierce fire behind her eyes and the fisting of her hands had me shifting back an inch. She looked like she was about to fucking explode. Instead of resorting to violence, which was shocking based on her body language, she flipped me the bird with both hands and stormed toward the front of the store.
Damn, did I know how to pick them.
I shoved off the ground with a groan and dusted my shorts off as I scanned the store for her but came up empty.
Huh.
At the checkout counter, I rapped my black American Express on the wooden counter while the salesgirl took her sweet-ass time ringing everything up, Beks still nowhere in sight. A sinking feeling told me that wasn't a coincidence. When I pushed through the front doors, the two salespeople at my back, I was somewhat prepared for what I'd find and didn't overreact.
No idea why, since she stranded my ass in the truck I'd just bought her, I laughed at the empty parking space where the truck had been.
8
Rebeka
Halfway to the apartment, dread rolled my gut, making me queasy. What in the hell did I do? At a red light, I scanned the clean dash and took a deep, memory-making sniff of the new truck smell. No way would he let me keep this thing after leaving him like that.
Shit.
The quick consideration of turning around was dashed as my stubborn ruling side pushed the gas pedal down, urging me faster through the side streets, putting more and more distance between me and the asshole.
At the front door of my apartment, I dropped the truck keys the second it was locked behind me and turned for the kitchen. The half-empty bottle of white wine rattled against the pint glass in my trembling hand. Only after half the glass of cold, crisp goodness was in my belly could I take a deep, calming breath. I topped off the glass with the remaining wine, grabbed the emergency bag of last year’s Halloween candy from the top of the fridge, and slid down the cabinets until my ass hit the cracked linoleum.
Vibrations against my ass sent my heart in overdrive, only to have it plunge when Ryder's name flashed on the screen instead of the person I wanted.
Ryder: Hey, just checking in. After yesterday and being around your dad, I wanted to make sure you weren't sitting on the kitchen floor drinking.
Ryder: You moved on from that asshole. Keep reminding yourself that. Nothing that happened was your fault.
Ryder: You deserve better than he could've ever given you anyway.
Ryder: Let's find Mr. Rebound. How about Dos Amigos my next night off? Kyle said he'd be DD.
Mr. Rebound. Even though it didn't sound appealing at the moment, I had no reason to say no.
Me: Count me in.
Ryder: All serious, you okay?
Me: Yes? No?
Me: I want to be. But how can I when he said he doesn't remember? How can I move on when I don't know if he's the one who sent me away or not?
Ryder: Either way, he didn't fight for you. That's what matters, doesn't it?
Ryder: Thirteen years, Beka. Thirteen. You owe it to yourself to move on.
Me: Yeah.
My thumbs paused over the bright screen at a pounding knock at the door. Instead of putting energy into standing, I crawled on all fours to the front door and pulled it open.
“Groveling?” Brenton said, humor lacing his words.
“Drinking.”
“Ah.”
Hot, dry air whooshed into the warm apartment as I shoved the door wider, allowing him to enter. Still on hands and knees, I crawled back toward my candy picnic. At the click of the bolt, I paused and shot a glance over my shoulder to find Brenton still at the door, blatantly staring at my ass.
Knowing exactly what I was doing, I gave it a little wiggle. His nostrils flared as his gaze shifted to mine. My breathing tripped and mouth went dry at the want pulsing off him.
“Careful, Beks.” One more long look at my full, round ass and he marched past to the kitchen. “What do you have to drink?”
“Whiskey's in the pantry, vodka in the freezer, chilled white wine in the… wait, nope. All that is in my belly.”
“It's been thirty minutes.”
“I'm a pro, what can I say.”
“Anything nonalcoholic?”
“Shit. Sorry. Um.” I mentally inventoried the fridge's contents. “There's a gallon of tea in the fridge.”
The solid cabinet door dug into my upper back as I sipped the crisp wine and eyed him while he moved about the kitchen. “How'd you know where to find me?” I asked around a mouthful of Mr. Goodbar.
“Asked your neighbors, who I have to say seemed shady as fuck. Did you have to pass a background check to get into this place?”
The thin foil of the miniature Hershey's bar crinkled between my fingers. “I guess? Who knows. All I knew was I could move in immediately, and it fit within my budget.”
His knees cracked, and he let out a grunt as he sank to the floor beside me, tea glass in hand.
“Hi,” I said, then took a sip of liquid courage. “Sorry for getting so pissed.”
“And for leaving my ass.”
“Well, technically you deserved that.”
“The fuck?”
“Just agree and move on. Where's your stuff?” Leaning forward, I craned my neck around the small wall dividing the two rooms to the front door, searching for his bags.
He coughed and spat the sip he'd taken back into the glass in his hand. “What the hell is that?”
“Tea?”
“It's molasses.”
“Oh yeah, it's a little sweet. I buy it from this place down the street. My one splurge. Where's your stuff?”
With a grimace, he took another tentative sip. “They're delivering it to the ranch.”
I didn't stop my eyes from rolling toward the ceiling. “Right. Of course they are. Do you always get your way?”
Those green eyes slid to me. “Except when it comes to you.”
“Do you like it? Being a pilot?”
Long, muscular legs stretched out before him, filling most of the small kitchen floor. “Yeah, I love it. I love serving my country and what the military gave me.”
Warmth bloomed in my belly from the wine, strengthening my confidence and lowering inhibitions. Swiveling around, I leaned back, resting my head
on his firm thigh. “What's that?”
“A family. A dependable family. One who pushes you to be better than you were yesterday.”
“That must be nice.” I focused on a dark smudge across the white fridge. “I'm guessing the blackouts you described are an issue for someone in your role.”
An incredulous huff resounded through the small room. “You could say that. But I've never had an issue while flying. I came here to get help before that could ever happen. I won't risk my brothers’ lives like that. If I can't get better, I'll file for a medical discharge, but that's the last resort. I want to go back. I need to go back.”
The muscle beneath my head flexed when I shifted for a better angle to look up to him. “Why?”
His head was leaned back against the cabinet as he stared ahead. “With Caleb gone, I don't have anything good here. I can't tolerate five minutes around Dad, and I'm certain the feeling is mutual. In Kentucky I'm needed, wanted. Here… here I'm just reminded of how alone I am.”
“You've never been alone,” I whispered. “You know, I had a crush on you way before you ever noticed me.” The sadness in his gaze disappeared when he looked down with a small smile. “Sometimes I'd follow you when you'd sneak out of the main house at night. I'd watch you watch the stars.” Shutting my eyes, I focused on those memories. “One night I couldn't stop from going to you. Even though you were the boss’s grandson, the prick everyone said you were, I walked out onto the dock and lay beside you.”
The hard floor dug into my elbows as I leaned up to take a deep swallow of wine. “You were so angry, sad, upset—hell, everything. That day had been bad. Your dad was in town visiting, and as much as he and your grandfather tried to cover it up, I knew how your dad treated you and Caleb when no one was watching.” Summoning some courage, I leaned back against his chest. The strong arm that snaked around my waist held me tighter against him, sending a wonderful sense of protection to sweep over me.
“How in the hell could you have known that?”
“I told you. I watched, and I listened. I saw things no one else did. And what I saw was something I related with. So I went out, lay beside you, and wrapped my hand around yours. Maybe it was a weak moment for you, but you didn't pull away. That night, we gazed into the night sky for hours, not saying a word to each other. When you got up to leave, you held your hand out to help me up, and it just happened. That moment… from that moment, we were us.”
The neighbor's music blared through the thin walls, and the elephant man who lived above stomped like he was about to come through the ceiling. We just sat there, content, me in his arms on my dirty kitchen floor.
I smiled down at the empty glass in my hand. “Is this happening? You here?” Angling my face, I nuzzled his neck and took in a deep breath. “Sorry, I get snuggly with white wine. I'm not responsible for my actions after one glass.”
The rumble of his words vibrated from his chest to mine. “And how many have you had?”
“One. For sure two,” I breathed against his skin. “Okay, could be three. I guzzled a lot when I got home.”
“Because you felt bad for leaving me?”
“Yeah… my bad.”
“My. Bad. That's all you have to say? How about ‘Sorry I left you, Brenton, and I'll gladly let you bend me over the counter to make up for it.’”
My half gasp, half giggle filled the kitchen, and I shoved his chest. Beneath my fingers, his chest shook as he chuckled at my reaction. Fine lines spread out from his eyes from a full, happy smile.
“The counter is too cold.”
His green eyes twinkled with a challenge. “We could negotiate on the location, Beks. But until you amend the whole no-touching piece of our agreement, I'm hands off.”
“I hate sober me right now,” I grumbled, then grabbed his tea to take a swig. “Thanks.” With the hem of my T-shirt, I wiped the remnants from my upper lip.
“Rebeka?” My full name and the restrained anger in the single word caught me off guard. Instead of looking at me, his eyes were zeroed in on my stomach. “What's that?”
Right. Mr. I Forgot What I Did To You.
“Not all my scars are emotional, B,” I said, almost like a curse before pushing off his leg to stand. The room swayed at the quick movement, but strong hands gripped my shoulders, steadying me. I tried to shrug him off but couldn't loosen his grip.
“Answer me.”
“No,” I gritted out, then tilted my head back to meet his burning gaze. “Fuck you. You can't demand to know—”
“Fuck yes I can!”
“Not when you should already know, dammit. I wasn't as lucky.” He dropped his hold and took a step back but kept his stare locked with mine. The cracking of his knuckles echoed in the kitchen. “And I know I'm a fucking bitch for being pissed at you for not knowing and to keep bringing this up, but you know what, I have that right. I have the right to….” As I stared into his eyes, a revelation pushed through. “I have the right to do whatever the fuck I want.”
The force of my lips pushing against his knocked his head against the cabinet. I brushed my fingertips up the inked arms I'd been lusting after all day and gripped his shoulder, digging my nails into his tight muscles.
“Rebeka.” My name on his lips pulled a throaty groan from my chest. “Rebeka.”
“No, I don't want to think. I don't want to remember. I don't want to be mad anymore. Take me, right here, right now.”
“Beks—”
Instead of letting him talk me out of my plan, I shifted against the very noticeable hard-on pressing between my thighs. The hiss that passed over his lips gave the opening I needed. Massaging his tongue with my own, I offered him everything I had in hopes of convincing him this needed to happen.
“Please, B,” I begged against his lips. “I need this. I need you.”
In response, his fingers brushed up the back of my spread thighs to grab a handful of ass, pushing me harder against him.
“Make me forget,” I whispered, opening my eyes only to find his already open and staring down into mine.
“Make me remember,” he whispered back.
Clutching the hem of my T-shirt between my fingers, I tugged it over my head and let it float to the floor. Callused hands skimmed across my scarred stomach. His thumbs brushed up and down causing a wonderful heat to spark each place he touched. Green eyes locked with mine his head dipped and slick lips pressed tender kisses along my ruined skin. My eye lids fluttered closed at the adoring way he treated the part of me I loathed the most.
Forehead pressed to my bellybutton his roaming hands paused just below my bra.
“Man up, Graves,” I groaned. “I'm not drunk. I'm horny as hell, and I need you to fix the issue.” Taking one step and then another, I leaned against the opposite cabinet. “We can go slow later if you want. I'll even whisper sweet nothings in—”
He covered the small area between us in one step. Hands around my waist, he hauled me up and set me not so gently on the counter.
“Holy hell, that's hot,” I said against the skin of his neck. Angling back, I pointed to his shirt. “Off. Take it off.”
“Damn, woman,” he admonished, but still ripped it over his head, giving me a full view of his muscular shoulders, perfection pecs, and defined abs. White wine dripped from my lips. Yep, wine not drool. Wine.
“B.”
“Beks.”
“If you don't take care of this situation right now, I'll start without you.”
“Bossy little thing, aren't you?” he murmured as his hand wrapped around my throat, tipping my chin up with his thumb. “If I wasn't so obsessed with winning, I might like to watch that show of your hand doing everything I told it to.”
“Brenton,” I begged. With a quick dip of my chin, I snagged his thumb between my lips and bit the soft pad.
Pressure released around my ribs, and the bra straps eased down my arms. Sharp nibbles traced along my collarbone, sinking lower and lower with each pass.
“You
have fucking perfect tits,” he mumbled against my skin, palming both breasts for emphasis. His teeth softly nipped at my peaked nipple, shooting a jolt through my body. I dug my short, dark nails into his scalp, holding him tighter against my chest.
After each bite, his lips and tongue sucked and licked to ease the pain, only to repeat the pattern all over again. The delicious mix of pain and pleasure had me squirming against the laminate in search for anything to relieve the building pressure between my thighs.
“Pants off, now,” he commanded. At the slight hesitation, he pulled me off the counter and set my feet on the ground. Caging me between his strong arms, he said, “Now.”
A shiver racked my shoulders as I stared into his hooded eyes. “And if I don't?”
Another chill raced down my spine at his intense stare. “Condom.”
“Bedroom, side drawer.”
Instead of bolting to the bedroom like every other male would’ve done, he widened his stance and crossed those inked arms over his broad, naked chest. “Came back with that answer pretty quick. Needed those recently, have you?”
“What?” I croaked. We were not having that conversation now. “Brenton,” I whined.
“Answer first.”
“Maybe once, twice. Hell, I don't know. Does it matter who I've slept with when they were all piss-poor fill-ins for you?”
Something I couldn't read flashed in his stare. With a curse, he stormed out of the kitchen, leaving me half naked, confused, and waiting.
And waiting.
One minute, then another passed without him returning. I snagged his T-shirt from the floor, slipped it over my head and tiptoed down the short hall to peek around the corner into the bedroom. He sat perched on the edge of the bed, staring at something clutched in his hands.
“You coming back?”
“I gave you this. I remember.”
Inching around the doorframe, I eased into the bedroom and sat beside him on the bed. I pulled the stuffed pony he must have found in the drawer from his hands. “When you got accepted to SMU.”
“I remember buying it, giving it to you after flying in from Dallas. You….” Turning, he leveled me with a hard, considering stare. “You were proud of me. Believed me when I thought I could be more than what everyone expected of me. And I….”
Vote Then Read: Volume III Page 227