Stone: At Your Service (Carolina Bad Boys #1)

by Rie Warren

  Stepping back, I raised my hands. “I’ll let you run from me this once, Leelee. But trust me, next time I see you, next time I’m with you, I won’t let you get away.”

  She hesitated for a moment before she turned on her heel. Leelee walked away without a backward glance.

  Chapter Eleven

  Friday: Second Dance, Last Chance

  THE SHUTTLE RIDE BACK to the Ramada was another exercise in this fucking sucks. Leelee’s brittle smile combined with my broody mood, tension arcing between us. Thankfully the rest of the Hens peck-peck-pecked about the Magic Mike not-Night, oblivious to the undercurrent of awkwardness. Disembarking, I let Nicky take my hand and tug me inside. Everyone was in my way, the crowd more congested than ever. The lobby overflowed with balloons and posters and camera flashes. It seemed a Big Name Author had made her appearance.

  I didn’t care about that shit. I just wanted to keep track of Leelee as she slid away from the group. I planned to hunt her down later. Craning my neck, I glimpsed her on the escalator that rose to the second floor. I considered storming after her, but she needed time to blow off some steam without me in her direct line of fire.

  Nicky made his excuses to go hobnob, and I grabbed a sandwich from the over-priced in-hotel deli, heading upstairs. One hoagie down and digesting, bottle of water glugged, gym shorts and workout ignored, I flipped open Ride.

  Jase fucked women for money. He dressed in a monkey suit for wealthy society broads, women who had too much bank and not enough bang in their bedrooms. He undressed for them and made sure their orgasms weren’t the fake kind screamed out to massage the egos of their high-powered ‘daddies’. He pocketed the cash and got out as quickly as he could.

  Going home alone, he relegated each lady to a memory of money made that had nothing at-fucking-all to do with lovemaking. They were distilled into dollar signs and decimal points as Jase reminded himself he was lucky he could use his body as a business transaction. He’d hit the shower—painfully hot water, strong soap, three complete washings—hit his studies, and study his bank account.

  “Oh shit.” Jase was a bigger fuckup than me.

  All his tats, his motorcycle, his rep—it was to keep people off his back. He let people think what they wanted because their opinions didn’t matter. But Ave’s did. She was the only person he wanted riding his back. She could never find out how he kept them flush.

  So maybe he was a rent boy who let women use him for easy money, but at least he paid the bills on time. That usually included Ave’s share too so she could concentrate on her studies. He managed to keep his grades at dean’s list level, which wasn’t too shabby. And it meant his dad continued to foot the bill for tuition and fees even if he didn’t bother with those pesky necessities like food, shelter, clothing . . . condoms.

  When Jase slunk into the kitchen stinking of high-class perfume, Ave closed her books and stood to make her escape.

  She was clean, she was innocent. That’s why Avery was so special to him. She didn’t make him feel dirty no matter how filthy he felt. Ave made Jase want more, from her. And frankly, her skittishness after a long evening of riding some woman he hoped he’d never see again made him a little on the tetchy side.

  He grabbed her elbow.

  “I have an exam tomorrow, Jase.” But her protest died on a whimper when he curled his arms around her.

  “So fuckin’ beautiful, baby.”

  She covered her face with her hands. “I’m horrible.”

  Every moment with Ave showed him a new side. This one had him growling, “Who told you that?” Tears slithered down her cheeks and he scooped them away. “Stop, honey, stop. Please.”

  Hesitant fingers slid through his hair when his lips replaced his fingers on her face, his tongue collecting the salty teardrops. “Jase?”

  Immense hunger ripped through him with that one little question. He shed his leather jacket and wondered how much Ave was willing to give. Because for her, for the first time, he’d give everything.

  This kid was killing me, his thoughts so precisely mirroring mine. Jesus, maybe I could pick up some pointers from him about how to win Leelee over, especially since she was the one who’d created him.

  “Are you using me?” Ave asked, pulling her skirt down around her thighs when he tried to tug it up.

  “You’ve gotta be fuckin’ kidding me.” The kiss he brushed along her neck made her sigh. There was no duplicity in his actions, just sheer want. For her taste, her feel, her freshness he’d never experienced.

  Soft starving eyes slid to his. “Don’t do this, Jase. Not if you’re going to hurt me.” Her shoulders rolling forward, she tried to hermit her way back into her shell of protection.

  Everything. Ave meant it all. Her shy ways, her bookish looks, her need . . . she needed him like no one ever had.

  “I wanna make love to you. Wake up with you.” His lips tripping across her mouth again, he aimed inside.

  Tentative licks met him. Then wild wet heat. Every motion, every intense and deep emotion, she met. The lapping, the teeth scraping, the lashing in and out as their mouths meshed had Jase on the edge of dragging his jeans off and grabbing his cock.

  He let her go to get rid of his shirt, chuckling in a tight, low drawl when her fingers traced the grooves of muscle and the trail of hair from his stomach to the top of his pants. His cock rapped hard against the zipper. He was full, erect, eight wide inches of dick begging to be fucked or sucked.

  Pulling her hands off him, watching her eyes widen, Jase smirked. “Want it, darlin’?”

  He was pushing her, he knew it.

  The stain on her cheeks and the flush up her neck was a telltale sign she liked it. He breathed against the small curl of her ear, tasting her earlobe, as sweet as her lips. “I know you do. You wanna see me naked again, you wanna fuck me. You want my mouth on your cunt and your hands driving into my hair to hold . . . me . . . tight.”

  Her whimper drove a spike of need through him. He slipped his tongue into her mouth, hauling her into his arms. He’d never been kissed like this. Little pants of breath, small sips of lips in between deep, heady, all-seeking lunges. His hands dragged up her nape, into her hair, clasping, winding, tightening.

  Breaking away from her addictive lips, Jase clasped Ave’s face. One hand fell to her waist, bunching up the blouse, touching bare skin he’d never seen. “Are you gonna insult me again by asking about my intentions with you?”

  “No!” Her mouth was so swollen he wanted to fuck it with his cock, slowly.

  “Are you gonna tell me what happened to you, baby, to make you think you’re anything less than goddamn perfection?”

  She gasped and turned to flee, but he grabbed her around the waist before she could get away.

  A whip of her hair flicked across his face, and fury filled her expression before being buried inside. “Not now, Jase.” She slid her hands into the out-of-shape cuffs of her sleeves. A nervous twitch. One Jase wanted to break her of once he found out what had caused it.

  Touching her cheek, he sought her eyes. “Sleep with me tonight, Ave.”

  She shook her head.

  He wrapped his arms around her and rocked side-to-side. “Sleep with me. Every night. Goddamn it, I want you however I can get you.” He kissed her neck, her lips, her lowered eyelids, murmuring all the time. “I’m not what you think.”

  He was worse, though. Dirty, inside and out. Used, paid for, a fuck for money. But not for Ave, never with her. She didn’t know. She had no idea. And he planned to keep it that way.

  One silent nod of her head beneath his chin and Jase groaned. All the months of wanting, the years of searching, of finding Avery, and she was going to sleep with him. He wanted to strip off and do a victory dance before bending her over the table.

  He was pretty sure those wicked ideas gleamed in his eyes, but he tried to extinguish them.

  “Now,” he tilted her chin up for a quick kiss, “put on your ugliest nightgown and get to my room. I’m holdin
’ you all night long.”

  And that was it, all he wanted.

  A sniffled weak laugh came from her before she turned away.

  Jesus Christ. I gave a watery laugh, too. Who knew Jase had it in him? The story Leelee wrote was explosive, emotional. It was full on, hands-down-your-pants hot, and I’d gone and gotten myself all worked up over her again.

  “Fuck.” I closed the book. All I wanted was Leelee as she’d been last night, open and fresh-faced instead of armored in attitude as she’d been today.

  Checking the time, I saw it was coming up to eight already. I did a round of redneck washing in the bathroom then commenced my hunt for Leelee. She’d had enough time to cool down, and I’d had enough to heat up.

  ****

  I checked the second floor bar first, figuring that’s where she headed after the shuttle dropped us off. No such luck. I scoped out all her hideouts and hangouts. I pounded up and down the halls and that elevator at least half a dozen times, fedora angled over my eyes not doing a damn thing to hide my growing scowl.

  An hour had passed by the time I returned to the bar, intending to swallow down the bitter taste of regret with a couple brews. There she was. She sat alone at the bar, nursing a glass of white wine. Her shoulders were practically up to her ears as she hunched forward. Classic get-out-and-stay-out posture. Too bad I didn’t read body language so well. I plunked down beside her, not bothering to ask if I was welcome because I already knew the answer to that. Ordering a beer, I chanced a look at Leelee’s profile. On second thought, I added a shot of bourbon, too.

  She might’ve been sitting all hunched up to keep people out, but that was because otherwise she looked completely defenseless. Vulnerable, unprotected, undone Leelee sent a piercing blow to my heart.

  She flinched from the hand I set over hers. But that was okay, I deserved it. Besides I knew how to handle her, just like my Camaro when I’d restored it back to its pristine bragging-rights glory—lovingly, tenderly, and with patience. I’d worked methodically on that machine, coaxing the engine until new life burst from the old. I did the same with Leelee. Murmuring quietly, I stroked her fingers and then her palm when her hand fell open. I knew how to take care of her: by telling her as I did then that everything was going to be all right because I was gonna make goddamn sure of it.

  She let me caress along her arm so I could pull her closer, sheltering her with my body. Only then did the tension ease from her shoulders.

  “LaForge won’t take no for answer.”

  I knew how to make sure he’d take no, with my fist making it so. “What’d he say to you this morning, babe?”

  She wiggled closer in my embrace but wouldn’t look at me, didn’t answer me. Instead she tipped her wineglass up for a long drink.

  “You’ve gotta tell me. If you don’t, I’m gonna throttle it out of LaForge.” I held my rage at bay, barely, because I was all about the comfort, but I couldn’t stop from gritting my teeth.

  “The usual. He’s just findin’ new ways to deliver the message that if I don’t sign with his agency, he’ll bring me down.”

  Lifting her chin, I stared hard into her eyes. “Something else you’re not tellin’ me here?”

  Her gaze skated aside and she shook her head. Suspicion crawled all over my skin. But I’d let it slide until tomorrow, because I was a selfish SOB, and if Leelee was talking to me again, I didn’t want to rock the boat by throwing around a bunch of macho vibes.

  I settled for slow strokes up and down Leelee’s side. After several long minutes, she purred contentedly against me. We had a couple more drinks, shared a basket of Buffalo wings, fighting over the last celery stick and blue cheese dressing. I almost gagged when she dumped half a bottle of ketchup on our order of fries. I smiled when she belatedly interrogated the bartender about what brand of ketchup it was, because she hated Hunts and preferred Heinz.

  I complained about carburetors and handsy female customers, to which she nodded in understanding, even talking shop with me. She cursed about writer’s block and handsy male agents . . . and I knew exactly what she was talking about. She told me about Sunday dinners with her folks—usually ending up in the garage with her dad as they fiddled with his latest project—just like me and the Stone’s gang all converging at Ma’s once a month. Leelee lived alone in the condo she and Patrick the Fuckstick had purchased. She’d replaced his candy-ass with one feisty kitten named Mews. Writing and her girlfriends were her life, just like JJ and the guys were mine.

  It was easy, being with her, but beneath our innocent, getting-to-know-you conversation, the sexual current raced headlong. The compulsion to kiss her was so strong, I stared at her lips. I remembered licking the bow-shape. I couldn’t forget how she’d opened that pretty mouth and sucked on both my balls.

  The din of the crowded bar gradually drifted away. It was getting late; tomorrow was the book fair. Writers and readers wanted a fresh start for a day of pimping, promoting, autographs, freebies.

  It was time for last call when I heard the music piped in from the speakers, Leelee and I the only ones left in the place. Soft strains of jazz drifted over us, and I recognized the Chet Baker tune.

  We faced one another on our stools, Leelee’s knees pressed between my thighs, while she talked about her plans for the sequel to Ride. Her hands waved in the air as she explained the next chapter in Jase and Avery’s lives.

  When I heard the next song, “Alone Together”, I interrupted her, softly kissing the lips that called to me.

  Dark forest green eyes widened on mine when I pulled away.

  “This song reminds me of my folks.” Drifting my fingers lightly through her hair, I teased out the curls.

  “What were they like together?”

  “I grew up on music like this. Ma and Dad were all about dancing, the old crooners, you know?”

  “You get your singing voice from him.” Leelee’s fingertips trailed a line of fire down my arm until she held my hand, bringing it to her mouth for a kiss on each of my knuckles.

  Her simple sweet touch blew me away.

  “Nah, he was much better than me. It’s just one of the things I hold onto about them. I remember one night at the garage after it was closed . . . I was eight or so. We’d had take-out in the reception so Dad could finish up an order while Ma completed some invoices. I’d fallen asleep on three chairs pulled together, clean coveralls for my blanket, the smell of oil in my nose. The garage has always been a second home.”

  Leelee’s smile grew. “Me too, at my parents. I used to wander into the garage during naptime. Mom wasn’t a fan, but she finally broke down and made up a pallet with my favorite blankets in there.”

  “Goddamn. Can you get any more perfect?” The heat of the fire stoked inside my chest.

  “Shush, now. You’ll make me blush.”

  I grinned when more heat crept up her cheeks in spite of her words. “I woke up alone in the dark. Remember, babe, I wasn’t always the rough, tough, buff dude you see now.”

  Slapping my shoulder, she rolled her eyes. “Please.”

  I captured her hand and nuzzled the soft skin of her wrist, drugging myself on her warmth as the song spun me into memories. The trumpet’s slow sensual music wafted around us, weaving us inside a spell. “I crept behind the desk, and that’s when I heard him singing. That’s how Dad put me to sleep, same as I do with the kid.”

  The higher notes of the song dragged us closer until we were almost kissing.

  “I tiptoed to the door of the first bay, and there they were. Dad was singing this song to Ma. He swirled her around between two cars on lifts, over the grease-stained floor with no candles and no orchestra. No one but the two of them.”

  I’d never imagined having what they shared.

  “What a beautiful memory.” Her rosebud lips burst into a teasing smile. “But I figured you for more of Chili Peppers fan.”

  “Chet Baker, old school all the way.” I leaned in those last few inches, licking the crest of her mout
h, snicking her with a gentle bite of teeth.

  “That explains the fedora then.”

  I tugged the brim lower before angling in for another short pull on her lips.

  She moved closer to whisper, “And it explains the Dancing with the Stars moves. You really are a romantic.”

  I never would’ve thought so before her. “Only for you, babe.”

  This is it. The feeling of being all alone, together. It raced up my spine and pounded through my body, slamming right into my heart. What my folks had, I’d only experienced with Leelee. The night of the tango, in a roomful of people, we’d been intent only on each other. She was heaven in my arms and I wanted nothing more, no one else.

  “You miss your dad.” Her fingertips rasped against the stubble on my jaw.

  I flipped my hat onto the bar. “All the damn time. But I don’t want to miss you. Not tomorrow, not the next day.”

  She shifted off the stool, offering her hand. “Dance with me.”

  “I think that’s my line.” I brought her hand to my chest.

  Warm and soft, her hip filled my palm, her skirt rustling between us as I stood. Leaning down, I nipped her shoulder, drinking her in.

  “I’m re-writing it.” Her body aligned perfectly with mine.

  “For All We Know” began. There was nothing but the song and the sway of our bodies around the emptied room. Bartenders watched, quieting their movements as they cleaned up around us.

  Wrapped around each other, we danced. Her hand skimmed up my back, mine slipped to her neck. Our lips hovered but no kisses were taken.

  Leelee’s cheek lay against mine—her soft to my rough. “Sing to me?”

  No candles, no one else, my voice rumbled with the rich tones of old times. There was no fancy footwork, only feeling. And she felt so fucking good in my arms.

  The music ended slowly. My hands snuck up her back, holding her against me, unwilling to let go.