Dirty For Me (Motor City Royals)

by Jackie Ashenden

  “Yeah.” He pushed his hands farther beneath her, his fingers heading for her sex.

  Sneaky.

  Tamara shifted on the vanity, angling herself against him. “She’s an amazing artist.” She ran her fingers along his collarbones, tracking the lines of them, the dips and hollows, the only fragile architecture in his strong frame.

  He shivered. “What are you doing?”

  “Admiring you.” She let a finger rest in the vulnerable hollow of his throat, feeling the beat of his pulse. “What about the words on your back? What do they mean?”

  “Stop.” His hands on her butt squeezed hard in warning. “I’m not a fucking art gallery.”

  She looked up at him, keeping her fingers moving on his skin. The expression on his face had gone tight. “You don’t like me touching you?”

  “That’s not exactly what I had in mind.” He flexed his hips again, his cock pushing insistently against her. “Let me in, baby. Stop screwing around.”

  “I’m not screwing around.” She spread her hands, slid them up over his broad shoulders and down his arms, caressing. “I think you’re beautiful and I want to touch you.”

  “You wanna touch me, then how about you wrap that mouth of yours around my dick.”

  She could feel his muscles shifting and moving under her hand, the tension beginning to radiate off him. He didn’t like her doing this, that much was obvious, and probably, if she kept it up, she’d lose him. He’d either walk away or turn it back on her, and this moment would be lost.

  Well, that wasn’t going to happen.

  He was going to accept this from her whether he liked it or not.

  Tamara ran a hand up behind his neck, curving her fingers around his nape. Then she urged his head down, his mouth meeting hers, and she kept it there, unmoving.

  He stilled and she got the impression he was waiting to see what she’d do.

  Gently, she traced his lips with her tongue, before deepening the kiss gradually, keeping it sweet and gentle, an exploration rather than a demand, rubbing her thumb against the back of his neck in a caress. Showing him that this wasn’t just about mutual hunger and satisfying her desires.

  That this was about him.

  Another shudder went through him. “Tamara,” he murmured roughly against her mouth, and she could feel him tense even further. “What the fuck?”

  She exerted more pressure on the back of his neck, keeping him there. “Let me do this, Zee,” she whispered. “Let me do this for you. Touch you. Kiss you. Please, let me give you this.”

  He pulled back and just for a second she saw the pain burn bright in his eyes. And grief and longing, and something in her own chest tightened in response.

  “Why?” His hands were hard on her. “You don’t need to give me anything.”

  “I know I don’t. But I want to. You ran me a bath last time and you . . . held me.” She swallowed. “Why can’t I hold you?”

  “Because I don’t want you to.” The words were bitten off, abrupt.

  She didn’t know how she knew, but she could tell he was lying. “Just for tonight.” She raised her other hand, slid it over the short, black velvet of his hair. “Just this once. Please. For me.”

  He didn’t speak, the look in his eyes unreadable. But he didn’t pull away and eventually, when she pulled his mouth down again, he let her. And when she kissed him again, his mouth opened, letting her in.

  Such a sweet kiss. Deepening into something hotter, more intense.

  She ran her hands over his shoulders and down his back, tightening her thighs around his waist, desire clenching hard inside her as she held him, all that powerful strength between her hands.

  Then she drew away, kissing down the strong column of his neck, licking the hollow of his throat. When his hands tangled in her hair, she thought he was going to pull her back. But he didn’t, he just wound his fingers in deep and let her kiss him farther down the wide expanse of his chest, let her graze her tongue over his flat nipples, then feeling them harden. Hearing the harsh hiss of his breath.

  Her hands slid down his sides, tracing the contours of his six-pack before sliding around his lean hips and down over the tight muscles of his butt. Stroking, caressing.

  He was so beautiful, so strong. And though he might be rough, he was hugely protective too. A man who cared. A man who let things matter to him.

  Tamara closed her eyes, his skin salty and spicy beneath her tongue, and she was suddenly desperate for more of him. To get closer to him.

  Zee’s fingers tightened in her hair and beneath her palm she could feel the beat of his heart, getting faster. “Tamara.” His voice was harsh. “Pretty girl . . . I gotta be inside you. Please . . .”

  Please. She’d never heard that from him before.

  She lifted her mouth from his skin and looked up, reaching to touch the hard, firm line of his jaw, his skin a little rough from his stubble.

  There was something brilliant in his eyes and, this time, it wasn’t anger. Only desire. Only hunger.

  He reached for a drawer in the vanity near her thigh and opened it, pulling out a condom packet and holding it up. She took it from him and opened it, taking out the condom. Then she leaned back, making space between their bodies so she could roll it down over his cock, nice and slow. He shuddered as she did so, the breath hissing between his teeth. But he didn’t move or touch her, letting her take the lead.

  So she did, gripping the base of his shaft in her hand and guiding him, feeling the head of his cock pushing into her, the stretch of her sex around his a delicious burn.

  She let out a soft ragged breath, because he was big and he felt so damn good. Then she flexed her hips and took him deeper, watching silver flare in his eyes and hearing the sharp intake of his breath.

  She took him as deep as she could, then she locked her legs around his waist, holding him there. And then she began to move, deep and slow, never taking her gaze off his.

  He kept one hand tangled in her hair, the other moving to the small of her back, bracing her as he followed her lead, the shift of his hips slow and deep as the swell of the sea.

  “Christ,” he whispered, his silver eyes searching hers. “What have you done to me?”

  “Same thing you did to me.” She slid her hands up his chest and around his neck, holding on to him. “You ruined me, Zee.”

  And because it was easier and because she’d said too much already, she pulled his mouth down for another kiss.

  Letting the heat and the desire work its magic until they were both lost.

  * * *

  Much later, complaining he was ravenous, Zee urged her out of bed and took her to a nearby diner that, in his opinion, did the best Coney dogs in Detroit.

  It was late, the night was sticky with heat and loud with the drunks on the sidewalks and spilling out of the bars, and she would have much rather been in bed with him. But she was hungry too, and besides, she couldn’t deny that there was something special about walking the streets of Royal at his side, his fingers laced through hers. As if they were truly a couple and not just two people indulging their chemistry. As if, somehow, she belonged with him.

  It was a dangerous thought, so she ignored it, concentrating instead on how different the streets seemed now she was with him. That first night, after his class, she’d stood out on the sidewalk and the place had seemed a jungle, while she’d been a prey animal among the lions.

  Now, although it was still dangerous, there was something familiar about the streets, something recognizable. Two girls standing near a streetlight and taking selfies on their phones. A couple of young guys sitting on the sidewalk and drinking beer while they chatted. A family who’d had a late night on their way home, screaming, overtired kids in tow.

  The same kind of people you’d see anywhere, in any neighborhood.

  Zee gestured across the street to the large brick building they were passing. A pink neon sign that said SUGAR INK glowed in the windows. “Rachel’s studio,” he said.r />
  It looked like a cool place, Tamara had to admit. “Does she do all your tats?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Including the line from Ezekiel?”

  His mouth curved, an almost smile. The first she’d seen that seemed to be genuine amusement. “You really wanna know what that means, don’t you?”

  “I’m curious.” She tightened her fingers around his. “Come on, it’s our last night. Might as well tell me.”

  “ ‘The one who sins is the one who will die,’” he quoted softly. “It’s for my dad.”

  She waited for him to elaborate, but he didn’t and she decided not to push. They’d already talked too much about the painful stuff anyway. “Rachel seems nice,” she said, changing the subject. “I mean, prickly, but nice.”

  His smile deepened and her heart turned over inside her chest in a way that should have worried her if she’d been paying attention to it. Because, damn, his smile was amazing. “You mean, she’s a prickly bitch.”

  “Hey, I didn’t say that.”

  He lifted a shoulder. “She is. Some stuff went down with Levi that . . . well, she’s never been the same since.”

  Tamara glanced up at him, his beautiful face painted with neon as they walked. “What’s Levi like? He’s the one in jail, right?”

  “Yeah. He’s a good guy. At least he was.” The smile faded from Zee’s face. “Gideon says prison’s changed him. Things are gonna be tough when he gets out.”

  She didn’t know what to say to that, so she just squeezed his hand in wordless comfort.

  He turned his head, glancing down at her, and for a moment she was lost in the silver gleam of his eyes. “You don’t need to care about me, Tamara,” he said softly. “That’s not what this night is about.”

  Yeah, she knew. But it was too late. She did care.

  “You had to protect yourself. . . . Sometimes that’s all you can do.”

  He’d said that to her to make her feel better, to comfort her, and that meant whether he liked it or not, he cared too. A dangerous thing to think. Then again, here she was, out in one of Detroit’s dangerous neighborhoods, with a man who was danger incarnate. How much worse could it possibly get?

  “I know,” she said, and smiled. “Think of it as an acceptable sex side effect.”

  His eyes glimmered in the light and the grim set of his mouth relaxed. Then he lifted her hand and kissed the back of it. “Come on, I’m hungry. And for once it’s not for you.”

  The diner was kind of low-rent, with scratched Formica tables, red booth seats, and cheap red neon signs. But Tamara didn’t care. For once, in her borrowed T-shirt and hoodie, she blended in fine with the clubbers and drunks all after a late-night protein hit.

  She slid into one of the booths, ignoring the stained table, grinning as Zee was pounced on by the very pretty waitress. He ordered them both Coney dogs and a Coke each, seemingly oblivious to the waitress’s attempts at flirting.

  “I think she likes you,” Tamara murmured as the waitress left with their order.

  He lifted a shoulder. “A lot of women like me.”

  “If you do say so yourself.”

  “Hey, it’s a fact.” He leaned back against the booth seat, fixing her with those silver eyes of his. “But it’s not me they’re looking at. It’s this.” He bent one arm, his biceps flexing in a way that had her mouth going dry. “The muscles and tats. The fight shit. That’s all they want.” His voice was causal, as if it didn’t bother him. But she remembered how he’d been in the bathroom, when she’d touched him gently. How it had made him uncomfortable. She didn’t think that was because he didn’t want it.

  “You are a fighter, it’s true,” she said carefully. “But that’s not all you are.”

  He tipped his head back against the seat, staring at her from beneath surprisingly thick dark lashes. “And you know all about me, pretty girl?”

  “You’re also really protective.” She leaned her elbows on the scratched Formica. “A warrior. Kind of like a knight or something.”

  His mouth curved. “A knight?”

  “Sure.” She grinned back at him. “My knight in shining armor. With a really big . . . sword.”

  Zee laughed and Tamara promptly forgot everything she’d been going to say. Lost her whole train of thought entirely. Because the laugh lit him up from the inside, the smile turning his mouth like sun coming up on a cold winter’s day. Making everything around her seem brighter.

  He was a beautiful man anyway. But when he laughed, he was to die for.

  Her heart flipped, turning over and over, and she understood all of a sudden what was worse.

  She could fall for him.

  Chapter 13

  Zee couldn’t have said what had woken him. Perhaps it was the light that filled the room, which must mean it was morning. Or maybe it was the warmth of the woman in his arms, her blond hair lying like silk across his chest.

  More likely though, it was the man standing at the foot of his bed holding a silver baseball bat in one hand and slapping it lightly across the palm of the other.

  Every single cell in his body froze.

  Holy fucking Christ.

  The man was older, heavier, and there was gray in his black hair, deep lines around his light blue eyes and his mouth. But there was no mistaking the cold gleam in those eyes, or the edge in that smile.

  Joshua Chase. His father.

  There were a couple of guys in suits standing behind him, their expressions stony. The usual thugs.

  Dread coiled tight in Zee’s gut, but he ignored that, fixating on the fierce, black rage that came along with it instead.

  So. After all that, his father had come to him. And not only had the prick broken into Zee’s goddamn apartment, but he’d also found Zee with his arms wrapped around Tamara.

  It’s all a little too familiar. . . .

  The dread coiled tighter. Jesus, he’d need to act fast if he wanted to get Tamara out of this without her attracting his father’s attention. And the only way to do that was to pretend she meant nothing whatsoever to him.

  Disentangled himself from her and not bothering to be gentle about it, Zee sat up. “Dad,” he said flatly to the man at the end of the bed. “Wondered when you’d fucking turn up. Didn’t bother to knock I see. Well, you can give us some goddamn privacy, okay?”

  Beside him, Tamara had started to stir, shifting and turning over, her eyes opening. Then, as she spotted the fact they weren’t alone, she gasped, grasping at the sheet and pulling it up over her.

  “Hey boy.” Joshua Chase’s voice was a low rumble. “Been a while, hasn’t it? Nice little piece you got there. Hope I’m not interrupting anything important.”

  Zee didn’t bother looking at Tamara, keeping his gaze on his father instead. “No. Just some bitch I hooked up with last night.”

  “In that case, she might wanna get out of here.” Joshua swung the baseball bat in a casual arc. “There’s some father-son shit you and I need to sort out.”

  Tamara said nothing, but Zee could feel the tension in the warm body beside his.

  The dread twisted inside him. “You heard the man,” he said, keeping his voice utterly cold. “Time’s up. Get your clothes and get outta here.”

  At first she didn’t move and he wondered if she hadn’t realized what was happening. But then, no, Tamara was smart. She’d know. Which meant she was probably hesitating because she was naked and didn’t want three strange men looking at her while she got dressed.

  Zee let out a breath and met his father’s gaze. “I’m not fucking talking to you bare-assed. Go wait in the lounge and I’ll be out in a minute.”

  Joshua stared at him a long moment. Then, abruptly, he laughed. “Ah, you always were a rebellious little shit. I like it. That attitude’ll take you a long way.” He glanced at the men behind him. “Whaddya say, boys? Shall we give him some privacy? Or do you feel like a free show from the pretty piece of pussy beside him.”

  “I feel like a free show,�
�� the prick closest to the door said.

  “Yeah, me too,” prick number two added, grinning.

  His father shrugged. “You heard ’em. Come on, share with your old man.”

  Rage began to curl up inside Zee, but he said nothing, keeping it locked down and cold. He couldn’t afford to show anything in front of this man, not a goddamn thing. Which meant if he was going to save Tamara, he had to throw her to the wolves.

  Fuck. Fuck.

  But she was already moving, sliding out of bed without hesitation and grabbing her clothes. She ignored the men standing there as she pulled up her jeans and there was a sulky look on her face, as if men with baseball bats coming into her bedroom was nothing out of the ordinary.

  She was brave, his pretty girl. He had to give her that.

  Since she had no bra and he’d torn her tank top the night before, she grabbed his T-shirt, pulling it on over her head and then flicking her hair out from under the collar. She didn’t seem to care that complete strangers watched her dress, their eyes following her every movement.

  It made him so angry she had to deal with that. Angry and possessive. It made him want to take them down. Smash their faces in, deal out some pain. A couple of minutes and he’d have them begging for mercy. Of course that was if they weren’t packing any handguns, which obviously they would be.

  Christ, he’d love to get his fingers around their throats. Especially his father’s.

  Joshua smiled benignly at him as Tamara moved toward the doorway, her chin lifted, and Zee held the other man’s gaze, making sure not to look after her as she left.

  That’s it. You won’t see her again. You won’t get to be her knight in shining armor. . . .

  He crushed the flash of pain that went through him at the thought. Crushed all the fucking feelings. He couldn’t afford them, not now.

  “So,” he said casually, throwing back the sheet and reaching for the jeans that lay on the floor. “What the fuck do you want?”

  Joshua swung his bat again. “I’m impressed with you, boy. Got away from me real good. And I gotta admit, it was smart to stay in Detroit. I had people looking out for you from New York all the way to fucking Florida.”