No Limits (Stacked Deck Book 5)

by Emilia Finn

  He lifts his arm, his leg, allows me to spin, then he drops them back down again and traps me. His eyelids are heavy, hooded. Sleepy.

  He grins. “Hey, cutie.”

  “What the fuck is going on?” I taste my breath, and clap a hand over my mouth when I realize how close we are. “Oh my god! What did… did we…” My heart threatens to explode from my chest. “Oh my god!”

  “Relax,” he chuckles. “We didn’t fuck, I didn’t even see your ink – for more than twenty-five or so creeper minutes – and your breath doesn’t smell… bad.” He grins when I squeak. “Seriously, relax. You’re unsullied. We didn’t fuck. We fell asleep watching a movie.”

  “The last I checked, you were dressed!”

  “Well, you fell asleep during the movie. I couldn’t take you to my bed, and I didn’t wanna leave you down here alone, so I took liberties and got comfortable.”

  “Oh god!” I shove back from him and peek under the blanket that covers us. The blanket that absolutely wasn’t here when I fell asleep.

  I look at my stomach, at my bare legs. I can’t not notice his bare stomach, his ridged abdominal muscles, but my brain is focused on the search for a lipsticked name.

  “Where did you…” I try to look at my back. “What did you write?”

  He chuckles and pulls me back in until our chests touch, and my breath comes to a dead standstill. “I wrote nothing, I swear. You’re innocent. Well…” He grunts his displeasure. “You didn’t do anything sexual, but you should know, if you were my girl, platonic sleeping with another man is on the no-go list. That shit wouldn’t fly with me.”

  “Good thing you’re not my man, then, huh?” I push away from him a second time, and drag my legs from beneath his.

  Sitting on the edge of the couch, I drop my feet to the floor and steal the blanket to wrap it around my shoulders. My shirt is still on, but my sweatpants are not.

  “Fuuuck,” I whimper. “Why didn’t you wake me up, Bry? Why didn’t you send me home?”

  You’re a coward, Madilyn!

  “It’s not my job to save your relationship with another man. In fact, I’d be quite pleased for you to go back to him now and tell him where you slept. After that, I’ll pick you up and bring you right back here where you belong.”

  “Where I—” I spin with wild eyes. “You’re insane!”

  “You’re pretty.” He reaches up and tucks messy hair behind my ear.

  His bicep bulges, now that I see him with no shirt. His chest is thick, his pecs defined, like he spends at least half of his week working on them. His stomach is ridged, and his junk is covered by a pair of black boxer shorts.

  Thank god!

  But despite all of that, despite the overwhelming sexiness that I see, my eyes are drawn to the ink peeking around his shoulder. His chest is bare of ink. His arms. But there’s a tiny bit of shading that creeps over his traps and calls to me to check.

  He follows my eyes, then looks back to me. “If you wanna see, you have to use your manners. You have to say the words out loud like a big girl.”

  “I hate you.” I turn away and break the sizzling contact that his playful grin sends straight to my toes. Asshole Bryan is easy to hate. But the playful version… it’s easy to ask him to ruin my life. “I’m going home.”

  “Gimme a sec.” He pushes up to sit, but he stops halfway, buries his face in my hair, and draws in a long, loud, obnoxious breath that sends goosebumps to my toes while my temper spikes.

  I shove, but he’s far too heavy for me to move. “Get the hell off me!”

  Laughing, he sits on his ass in nothing but underwear, drops his face to his hands, and yawns. But he smiles, and between his fingers, he peeks at my legs. “Seriously, though.” He stops smiling. “What do you want me to do? Drop you off? Call you a cab? What’s safest?”

  “Safest?”

  “Men have been known to snap over less. I’m not sending you home to take a beating from him, so if there’s even a small part of you that thinks your boyfriend might—”

  “Jackson isn’t my boyfriend, Bryan.”

  His words snap off in an instant. His head whips around to me. Shock, pure shock plays over his face. “What?”

  My heart beats like a hummingbird’s wings.

  I need to shut the hell up. I need to shut my trap and go home, but I can’t stop the words. I can’t stop my verbal vomit.

  “I never said he was my boyfriend.”

  “But you—”

  “You assumed.” I shrug. “You know what they say about assumptions.”

  “You…” He’s speechless – for the first time in his life, I’m certain. “You’re not… Are you someone else’s girlfriend?”

  I clasp my hands together as my cheeks fill with warmth. Then, like I’m leaping from a plane, I shake my head. “Nope. Single.”

  “Fuck me.” He dives so fast that I squeal when he slams me back to the couch. He jumps on top, pins my hands above my head, and rests his weight on me so heavily that I’m back to struggling for air. “Seriously, Madilyn. Fuck me?”

  I scoff in his face. “Despite how utterly romantic that was, I’m gonna go with no. But thanks.”

  “But you’re single!” he whines. “I was a gentleman all fucking night, dammit!”

  “Except for the bit where you undressed me. Slept against me. Studied my ink while I was unconscious. Then you sniffed me this morning. Is that what you mean by being a gentleman?”

  “Trust me, I was controlling my urges. I wanted to sleep inside you.”

  I scrunch my nose. “That visual isn’t as sexy as you’d think.”

  “I wanted to take all of your clothes off,” he continues. “I wanted to study more than your thigh. I wanted to lick you, not sniff you. Don’t you see how I’ve been restricted?”

  “Your levels of self-depravation are admirable, Bryan. But still…”

  He pouts. Popped bottom lip and everything. “Please?”

  “No!” Laughing, I fight his hold and push up to my butt when he releases me. “Begging me isn’t going to get you laid, Bry. I still have to go home, I have to explain to my family why I slept somewhere other than my own bed, and Jackson is still my friend, and I assure you, he won’t be pleased to hear where I’ve been.”

  “Yeah?” Bry stands from the couch, bends and snags the sweatpants I wore last night, and stabs his legs into the fabric. “Well I can assure you, I really don’t give a fuck. In fact, I give less fucks now than I gave five minutes ago. But the fucks I do give?” He grins. “They’re pretty fuckin’ cheerful, because here I was thinking the pretty girl was taken by my archnemesis and I was gonna have to fight him for her.” He tugs the pants up and fixes the rope.

  Damn him for drawing my eyes down to a defined V that leads into his pants. Damn him for being sexy first thing on a Sunday morning, with his ruffled hair and playful eyes. Damn him for existing, and damn the first Bryan Kincaid for stealing a girl fifty years ago.

  “Just because I’m single doesn’t mean I’m looking for a fuckbuddy.” I step into my jeans, and repress the way my stiff knees smart at the movement. “And even if I was, my single status doesn’t automatically default to you just because you pout about it.”

  “I’m just pleased that I don’t have to fight him for you.”

  “Scared you’d lose?”

  He barks out a loud laugh. “Mostly I’m scared I’ll catch the genes that make him such a fuckin’ loser. Now, I only have to fight you. And call me crazy, but I might have fun sparring with you over this.”

  “Crazy.” I button my jeans and sit back down to pull on my sneakers.

  The doorbell rings, and draws my eyes up with a snap.

  I look to Bryan with panic bubbling in my chest. “Don’t you dare.”

  “Sorry.” He bounds over the couch with a giggle. “It would be rude not to answer.”

  “Bryan!” I spin on the couch, but come to a stop when I get an eyeful of the ink that spreads from the back of his neck right
down into his pants.

  I pant, like a fucking dog, as I study the black Mustang sitting atop a midnight-darkened freeway. The shading of a person sitting inside, with one hand on the steering wheel, and the other wrapped around a second person. A woman. The road fades into other things; a garden, a woman’s face, playing cards, and names interspersed between them all.

  It’s a storyboard, a visual happily ever after.

  He looks over his shoulder when I go quiet. “You looked, huh?” He doesn’t need a response, he only smirks. “Agree to fuck me, and I’ll make our visitors go away.”

  “I will not.” I stand and fold my arms with pure defiance shining in my eyes. “I do not negotiate with terrorists.”

  He shrugs and skips to his front door with a filthy grin.

  I stay where I am, pray for the Earth to open up and swallow me whole, but when I hear voices – multiple – I cry a little for what’s coming.

  “Hey! Come on in!” Bry is extra enthusiastic. Extra obnoxious. He’s extra everything, and infuriating while he’s at it.

  I stand my ground, paste on my most professional face, but when my worst nightmares round the corner and step into the living room, I shrivel.

  “Oh.” Evie stops on a dime, skids on the tile, and studies me with wide eyes. I’m dressed… but I did not check my hair before declaring I would hold the line. “Wow… um… okay.” She looks to Lucy, then to Ben. Finally, she looks to Bry with lifted brows. “Did I miss a meeting for the endorsement deal?”

  “Nope.” Bry comes around the couch and yanks me to his side with so much strength that he robs my body of breath. “We fucked.”

  “Oh!”

  “Bryan!” I spin in his arms and slam my fist against his ribs. “We did not!” I turn to Evie and swallow down what I’m certain is vomit. “We did not! He’s lying.”

  “She has ink in secret places.” He grins for his cousins as they stand in place and cover their smiles. “Bet you didn’t expect a chick in a skirt suit to have ink in her private places, but here we are, and that shit is true.”

  “It’s on my thigh, you douchebag.” I shove him off when he tries to grab me again. I turn back to Evie. “We did not f—” I swallow and summon the business professional I pretend to be. “I didn’t. We didn’t. I would never.”

  “You wouldn’t?” She releases Ben’s hand and wanders forward with a taunting smile. “You think you’re too good for my cousin?”

  “What? No! I didn’t say—” I close my mouth with a snap. “I didn’t say that. I’m saying that you have the wrong idea about what’s going on here.”

  She comes to stop in front of us. Studies me from my toes to my hair. Then she extends a hand that I automatically take.

  It’s the business professional in me. The deeply entrenched manners that demand I take her hand.

  But she doesn’t shake it. She spins it, and glances at my elbows. Cut, with dried blood.

  “Wowza.”

  “Oh my god!” I screech above Bry’s chortling laughter. “That’s not what it looks like!”

  Evie only looks to her cousin and offers a fist. When he bumps it, she does a little head-bob. “Nice score, Bry. I’m surprised, but not unimpressed.” She looks to me. “You’re very pretty. He chose well.”

  “We didn’t– I didn’t—” Then her words hit me. “You think I’m pretty?”

  She laughs. “I’m not the only one. You… uh… have fun?”

  “We didn’t have sex!” I cry out, only to draw laughter from everyone else in the room. “I swear we didn’t.”

  “She has a birthmark on her butt cheek.”

  “I do not!” I slap the back of my hand against Bryan’s toned and disgustingly hard stomach. “I’m in a business partnership with these people, and now you have them thinking you and I are…” I widen my eyes, like that will help explain the way my brain is exploding.

  I turn back Evie. “We didn’t. He’s teasing.”

  She lifts a dainty shoulder in lieu of saying she doesn’t care. “Ben and I are in business partnership, too. Doesn’t mean he didn’t do nasty things to me this morning.”

  “Eve,” he groans. “Discretion, please.”

  She grins. “He’s shy sometimes. He’s a sweetheart like that.” She walks back to her man and slides under his arm. “Anyway, it’s cool you’re here. We were coming to talk Stacked Deck anyway.”

  “That’s…” I shake my head and curse the nausea that rolls in my stomach. “None of my business. I’ll get out of your way and let you do your thing.” I spin away from Bry’s grabbing hands and snatch up my bag. “I’m sorry that I interrupted.”

  “Not as sorry as me,” he extra groans. Then he looks to Evie. “Breakfast?”

  “Sure!” She flashes a playful smile and contradicts everything I thought I knew about her.

  I thought she was a bitch. I thought she was unapproachable. So far, she’s a tease, but she’s not mean about it.

  She takes Ben’s hand and begins dragging him toward the kitchen. “We’ll start cooking.”

  “I’ll just see myself out.” I slide my bag over my shoulder and try my best to slink away. “See ya, guys.”

  “Nope.” Bryan grabs me up so fast that I squeal, but he’s still shirtless, and now I’m in his arms. My stomach dips, then my eyes snap to his and stop. He’s right there, smiling eyes, plump lips glistening from running his tongue over them. “It’s not time for you to go home yet.”

  I swallow the lump in my throat and hate that my arms go around his neck. His lips are just an inch from mine, so close, so unbelievably close, and yet, a million miles away.

  “Bryan,” I whisper when the others leave the room. “I can’t stay here. This is just…” I shake my head. “It’s crazy. You’re a Kincaid.”

  “And you’re a Turdsky.” He grins. “I think that’s pretty fuckin’ funny.”

  “We’re business associates. Barely.” My voice cracks. “Our families do not get along. I thought your cousin was a total bitch just yesterday, and now you want me to eat food she cooks.”

  “But she’s not a bitch,” he whispers. His lips come closer. Closer. “She’s a sweetheart, and she’ll share the bacon with you. There’s absolutely no reason why you can’t sit in on this meeting. You’re not our enemy, Madilyn.”

  It feels like I am.

  “Come on.” He closes the space between us, but instead of pressing a kiss to my lips, he diverts and delivers it to the very center of my forehead.

  Dammit. Dammit. Dammit.

  My heart tumbles as he lowers me back to my feet, as he throws his arm over my shoulders, then as he pulls me in so tight that he practically chokes off my air. But he drags us toward the kitchen and stops at the doorway until the fighters inside turn back to us.

  “Maddi would love to join us for breakfast. Also, we didn’t actually fuck. I was playing.”

  “Struck out.” Evie pours milk into a pancake batter bottle, studies the line of liquid with one eye as it rises. Then when she has enough, she pops the lid back on the bottle and slams it against the counter with a loud crash. “Tomorrow’s a new day, Bry.”

  “You guys know who she is?” He drags me to the stool beside where Mac sits, plops himself down like it’s not rude for him to take the last seat, but then his hands rest around my hips as he pulls me down to sit on his thigh.

  I’m sitting on Bryan Kincaid’s fucking leg in front of his family. He’s shirtless. And no one is saying a damn thing!

  “Uhh…” Evie looks at me with narrowed brows. “She’s Madilyn Tosky of Monaco Motors.”

  “Monaco Auto,” I instinctually pop out.

  It’s habit. It’s deeply ingrained family pride.

  “Yeah.” She waves a hand in my direction and continues shaking the pancake mix. “That.” Then she looks to Bry. “Did you forget? Because that’s not very chivalrous.”

  “No,” he chuckles. “I mean, do you know who she is, beneath the business suit?”

  “The
ink?”

  “No!” He laughs. “Tosky.” He squeezes me tighter, and I guess he just doesn’t give a damn about appearances, because he rests his chin on my shoulder. “She’s Madilyn Tosky. As in, the granddaughter of the douchebag that Grandma was supposed to marry.”

  “That douchebag,” I snap, “is my grandfather.”

  “That’s literally what I just said.” He huffs, and bounces me when his chest vibrates with laughter. “She’s third generation Turdsky, guys.”

  “I knew.” Bean sits at the end of the counter and smiles for me. It’s not a wild grin, not teasing, not taunting. It’s just… friendly. “Grandma told the story of Shane Tosky and Grandpa Bry ages ago.”

  Evie pops the cap off the now-shaken pancake batter and steps to the stove. “That was years ago. Back when Ben still had cooties.”

  Bry chuckles. “She’s that guy’s direct descendent.”

  “In another universe,” Mac ponders, studying me and Bry, “If Nelly chose Shane and not Bry, that would make you guys…” he closes one eye, as though it helps him think. “Cousins?”

  I jolt back with a scowl. “Gross.”

  “We wouldn’t be anything,” Bry snickers. “If she chose Turdsky, then we wouldn’t exist. The Kincaid genes are strong in me.” He lifts his right arm, flexes his bicep right by the side of my head.

  Evie scoffs, and the guys roll their eyes. But I… well, I develop a crush on his arms, which only intensifies when he wraps that arm back around my belly and rests his palm on my opposite ribs.

  He’s not just resting near me. Not just beside me. He’s wrapping himself around me entirely. And though I was raised to reject this kind of behavior, I can’t walk away. I can’t insist he stop. I just…

  Fuck.

  “If Grandma lost her ever-loving mind and chose the wrong guy, then we wouldn’t exist,” he reasons. “So…” He looks up to the ceiling. “Nice score, Grandpa. You did it up good.”

  “You idiot.” Evie rifles through the silverware drawer, snatches out a plastic fork, and tosses it at Bry… though it hits me.

  Her bright blue eyes stop on mine. “Sorry.” She looks to Bry. “So we’ve come full circle, a Kincaid is claiming a Tosky, and the universe is back on its axis now?”