Going Under (The Blackhawk Boys Book 3)

by Lexi Ryan

  “Crazy things Alex DeLuca makes me do,” I say, swimming toward her. “Act out Juliet’s lines in the balcony scene for a tenth-grade English project. After that, I’d say swimming in my underwear is pretty tame.”

  She giggles. “We got an A, didn’t we?”

  “I could have done without the dress.”

  I can’t see her face, but judging from the scoffing sound she makes, I’m guessing she’s rolling her eyes. “The girls loved you in the dress.”

  “I wouldn’t have done that for anyone else.”

  She swims forward and loops her arms around my neck. “Well, tenth-grade me appreciated it.” She looks up at me through wet lashes.

  My breath catches.

  How can you be so beautiful?

  I keep waiting for her to back away and let me go, but her arms are still around my neck, her body nearly pressed against mine. I could have my hands all over her in the next breath. Does she know what she’s doing to me?

  I swallow hard, but the words I shouldn’t say roll right off my tongue. “Having you this close puts ideas in my head.”

  “Anything good?” she asks.

  My gaze drops to her mouth, to the delicate ridges of her collarbone, to the swell of her breasts in her wet tank. “Good but dangerous.”

  “Because we’re friends?” she whispers.

  “Because you’re too precious to me.”

  “Precious things are for boxes and safes.” She wriggles closer, the front of her body rubbing against mine. “They’re locked away, hidden. I’ve spent more of the last four years hiding than I have living. If that’s what it means to be precious, then I want to be cheap. Common.”

  “But there’s nothing common about you.”

  “I want to live. I want to feel.” She presses her lips together and drops her gaze to my chest. “I could swear I catch you looking at me, and I could swear that sometimes what I see in your eyes is a reflection of how I feel when I look at you. I’m here and I’m sober, and I’m asking. Please. Kiss me. Touch me.” She brings her gaze back up to meet mine and tilts her head to the side as she studies me. “We can be friends again tomorrow, but don’t make me stay in that box tonight.”

  “I’m sorry.” I hate those words. They always sound too thin. Maybe it’s because when we really mean them, they carry the weight of so much that’s left unsaid that it’s a wonder they can make it off our tongues at all. When the apology is sincere and necessary, there’s too much weight for three syllables, too much burden. I don’t know if she could ever forgive me for my secrets, but do know I’ll break a million times before letting her shatter. “I can’t.”

  She drops her arms to her sides and backs away, and I grab her wrist before she can get too far. I can’t take it anymore. I can’t take my guts being twisted with how much I want her. I can’t take the way she’s looking at me like I’ve broken her heart. But mostly, I can’t take another second wondering if she really tastes as sweet as I remember.

  I slide my arm around her waist and pull her back against me as the other hand threads through her hair. And it’s stupid and foolish and selfish, but I kiss her. I lower my mouth to hers and sweep my tongue across her lips until she opens beneath me. I cup her face in my hands and kiss her for all I’m worth. I kiss her the way a man kisses a woman he’s wanted for five years. I kiss her the way a guy kisses a girl when he needs her to know she’s beautiful. If a kiss would speak, this one would say she’s everything and I’m nothing. If a kiss were constructed with words, this one would be stacks of beautiful, glass windows of precious, and stone pillars of too fucking good for me.

  Because this kiss isn’t just a bad idea. It’s a broken promise.

  * * *

  Alexandra

  Sebastian’s mouth is magic on mine. It’s like a fantasy but better, because this is real, and I never could have imagined the full heat of him or how small I’d feel when his big hands cup my face, or the way his breath is choppy and desperate—as if this is equal parts exhilarating and terrifying.

  His mouth skims across my jaw and down my neck, then back up to nip at my earlobe. “Is this what you want?” His voice is low, more breath than sound. “You want me to make you feel good?”

  Before I can reply, he’s kissing his way down my neck again, mouth sucking, teeth scraping. His hands find my ass and then he’s shifting our positions in the water, pressing my back to the side of the pool and lifting my legs to wrap around his waist.

  “Please,” I moan, because he’s hard between my legs and pressed right where I need him. I rock into him as he takes my breast in his big hand and grazes my hard nipple through the layers of wet cotton and lace.

  “Please what?” he asks. He draws back and meets my eyes.

  “Touch me.”

  “Fuck.” He lowers his mouth to mine, but it’s as if our whole bodies are part of the kiss. Everything moving and searching and rocking. He squeezes my breast then pinches my nipple between two fingers. When I roll my hips, his cock presses so perfectly against my clit that my whole body shudders. My thighs flex, pulling him closer, and I thread my fingers through his hair and tug.

  “Tell me to stop,” he whispers against my ear. “Fuck, you feel so good, Alex, but I don’t want to hurt you.”

  “Then don’t stop.”

  “Jesus,” he hisses. I roll my hips, unable to resist that delicious friction, and he groans. He brings a hand to my face, cupping my jaw in his big palm. “I feel like I’ve spent my whole life wanting to see you like this. Turned on. Undone.”

  His words are intoxicating. I’m lost in the sound of his voice and the thrill of his touch. He nips at my bottom lip, cups my breasts, presses his hard cock against the needy ache between my legs.

  “More.” I want to feel him inside me. I want to know the weight of him and see his eyes when he’s as close to me as two people can get. “Please. I won’t break.”

  “Maybe I want to see you break.” He wraps his hand around my hip and curls his fingers. “Maybe I want to make you fall apart with my mouth and put you back together one piece at a time.”

  Suddenly, he’s lifting me onto the side of the pool and spreading my legs. He slides his hands under my ass and pulls me to his face.

  “Oh,” I gasp. Because he’s kissing me. His mouth is between my legs and his lips and tongue and oh my God. I’ve never felt anything like this. The air is cool on my skin, but I can only focus on the heat of his mouth and the scratch of his beard between my legs.

  I put my hands behind me to prop myself up and stare in disbelief at the image of him there, his hands gripping my hips, his mouth working delicious magic against me.

  But then he pulls the strip of lace to the side and there’s nothing between his tongue and my clit, and I can’t keep my eyes open anymore. I can’t do anything but hold on as my body scales some invisible cliff. I cling and I rise, and his hands grip my hips tighter, his mouth relentless. I climb, and I stretch, and then there’s nothing but release and cool air as I fall.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Alexandra

  Slowly, Sebastian lowers me back down into the water, his eyes locked on mine as my body slides over his. “You okay?” he whispers, his voice a little gruff. His mouth tilts into a lopsided grin that makes my heart squeeze.

  “I’m…” I take a breath and shake my head. “Yeah. I’m good.”

  He studies me and tucks my hair behind my ear. I’m equal parts loose-limbed satisfaction and awkward energy. I’ve never done that before, and I didn’t expect it tonight. My old boyfriend wasn’t interested, and if I was curious, I wouldn’t have had the courage to ask. Does Sebastian expect me to return the favor now?

  The idea makes my heart kick into another gear—pounding faster and harder. Because this is Sebastian, and touching him in any way makes my whole body hum, but the idea of putting my mouth on him makes my nerves rattle.

  I skim my hands down his chest and to the waistband of his briefs. He hisses out a breath and
squeezes his eyes shut.

  “Hey, Alex! Are you out here?”

  Just as the patio lights click on, Sebastian and I both spin toward the back door and the sound of my brother’s voice.

  Dante’s gaze shifts between me and Sebastian. “What the fuck?”

  “What are you doing here?” My voice squeaks. “Jesus, Dante. Have you heard of knocking?”

  His jaw hardens and his hands flex to fists at his sides. “I called. I knocked. No one answered. The front door was unlocked.”

  “What are you doing here?”

  “Mom wanted me to check on you.” He narrows his eyes on Sebastian, and in the gleaming patio lights, betrayal is all over his face. “But I guess you’re not alone.”

  He turns on his heel and goes back inside. Thirty seconds later, I hear the roar of his Harley.

  I turn to Sebastian. “I’m so sorry. I should have locked the door. I should have…” Suddenly, I realize how much worse it would have been if Dante had walked out here even two minutes earlier. “Oh God…”

  Sebastian drops his hands to his sides and turns away from me. Bowing his head, he rests his arms on the edge of the pool and catches his breath.

  “I’ll talk to Dante,” I promise. “I’ll make sure he’s not angry with you.”

  “I’m not worried about Dante,” he says quietly. “I can handle him.”

  But he’s worried about something. “Then what’s wrong?”

  He drags a hand over his face and pulls in a ragged breath. As he moves to the shallow end, water runs down his hard chest in rivulets that I want to follow with my fingertips. But I can’t, because the second Dante appeared, Sebastian withdrew. It crushes me to watch him put as much space between us as possible, and my throat grows thick.

  “I shouldn’t be here with you,” he says. “I know that. Dante knows that.”

  “You’re both wrong.” I feel like I’ve been cut in two. How could we back-pedal so quickly?

  “You say that like you know me.” He shakes his head. “It wasn’t any different in high school, either. You never saw me for who I was. You always thought I was better.”

  “And who were you?” I ask, my voice rough with unshed tears.

  “I was a fuck-up, Alex. A user.”

  A user. “You mean drugs?”

  He shrugs. He keeps his eyes cast forward on nothing, but frustration rolls off him. “Drugs. People. Whatever would get me ahead. Anything that would make me feel good for a minute.” He drags both hands through his hair. “Fuck, I even used you.” The words are a smack in the face. I don’t want to believe what he’s saying. “You think I could have passed English with all the school that I missed if you hadn’t gotten me through it?”

  “And who are you now?”

  He turns to me, and suddenly I wish we were in the dark again, because Sebastian’s eyes land on my scars. I’ve never wanted to cover them more than in this moment. “I don’t know what you want from me, but I’m afraid it’s something I can’t give.”

  I take a deep breath. “What if I just want sex? What if I want you to take me inside to the bedroom and finish what we started?”

  * * *

  Sebastian

  I squeeze my eyes shut at her suggestion. It’s too easy to imagine. Too tempting. Alex in my arms, warm and willing. I need to get out of here. She’s soaking wet and so fucking sexy, and all I can think about is how damn sweet she tastes and how good it felt to make her fall apart.

  I’m walking a tightrope tonight of being as honest with her as I can be without hurting her. Honesty without breaking any more promises.

  “What happens tomorrow?” I ask. “Can you look me in the eye and tell me you’re fine with tonight being some one-time thing? Because even if you don’t know it, you’re worth more than that.”

  I climb out of the pool, find my clothes, and struggle to pull my jeans over my wet legs.

  When I head back into the house, she follows me in, her clothes in a ball held tightly against her chest. She’s shivering. The water itself was warm, but the air’s cool.

  “You need a hot shower,” I say, dragging my gaze over her. “And I’m going to get out of here before I decide I need to help you with that.” Hell, I’m already going to have blue balls for the next month.

  “I never felt used,” she blurts before I can turn away.

  I blink at her. “What?”

  “In high school, you said you used me, but I never felt used.”

  “That’s because it never occurs to you that you should be getting something back from the people who take from you.” I lower my voice. “You’ve been that way as long as I’ve known you. Always doing for someone else. Never getting shit in return. Good night, Alex.” I turn toward the front, but I barely make it two steps before she stops me.

  “Sebastian? Wait a minute.”

  Before I can turn back to her, her hands are on my back, skimming down my lats and making my gut knot.

  “It’s a phoenix,” she says, touching me. I don’t have to see what she’s doing to know her fingertips are tracing along the flames that cover my lower back. I know the artwork well, and as she examines it, I imagine her hands grazing the spirals of smoke that wrap around the bird’s feet. She uses both hands to follow the bird’s wingspan to the tops of my shoulders and backs of my triceps, where the intricate pattern makes the feathers look like a design all its own. The last thing she touches is the human hand reaching from the fire, reaching for the phoenix.

  I stay frozen through her examination, listening to her breathe, feeling the slight trembling of her fingers and the soft puffs of air against my inked skin.

  When she drops her hands and steps back, I turn to face her. Her face is pale and her eyes are wide.

  I wait for her questions, but she doesn’t ask any.

  Her chest rises and falls with her breath. “Good night, Sebastian.”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Alexandra

  I wait for the sound of the front door closing before I head to the front of the house to lock up and set the alarm. I go straight to the master bathroom and run the steam shower on hot before stripping out of my wet panties, tank top, and bra. My head is spinning and it’s been hours since I’ve had any wine, so I can’t blame it on that.

  Sebastian has a tattoo of a phoenix, and I didn’t even know. The phoenix is the talisman for burn victims. It’s a symbol I’ve been drawn to since those first days in the hospital when I was in such a deep, dark place that only the power of the mythical could reach me. Does that tattoo have anything to do with the night my sister died? Or is it just a coincidence? My hand goes to my side and the tattoo of the phoenix I had inked there when I was in Colorado.

  He says I don’t really know him. Before tonight, I wanted to know anything about Sebastian that he’d tell me, but now I have this cold, sick feeling in my stomach, and I’m not sure I want to know anything.

  * * *

  Sebastian

  I’m not surprised to find Dante waiting for me in front of my apartment when I pull in. He’s in a leather jacket and boots, standing by his Harley like some badass biker cliché, ready to throw a punch.

  If that’s what he wants, I can take it. Fuck, I deserve it. I can still taste her on my lips.

  I park in the space beside his bike and climb out.

  “Not Alex,” he says. He doesn’t look angry anymore, just weary.

  “It won’t happen again.”

  “This isn’t what I had in mind when I asked you to help her come out of her shell. What the fuck were you thinking?”

  That she was so soft and smelled so damn good that I wanted to kiss her and touch her more than I’ve ever wanted anything else. “I wasn’t.”

  He turns away, his jaw ticking. “We almost lost her too.”

  “I fucking know. That fire—”

  “I don’t mean in the fire. After we buried Martina, it was as if Alex just shut down. She was with us, but she was gone. If she had to deal with the fa
ct that—”

  “You don’t need to say anything else. I get it.”

  His exhale is heavy and loaded with worry, and I wish he’d just punch me in the face. It would hurt less than having a friend point out that I’ve fucked up immeasurably. Again.

  * * *

  Martina’s Journal

  I met someone today. I’m gonna call him Mr. Bedroom Eyes. Because damn. Such good eyes, and when he looks at me, I wish we were in the bedroom. Move over, Sebastian Crowe, I’ve found myself a Real Man.

  I was about done chasing after Sebastian anyway, and the minute I met Mr. Bedroom Eyes, I knew my days of chasing a boy were over. I’ve always preferred men to boys anyway. He’s older than me, but that’s the way I like it.

  Sebastian spent too much time trying to keep me in check. Trying to pull me back from partying too much or too hard. He was more interested in being my babysitter than my lover.

  Mr. Bedroom Eyes knows what’s going on. I met him at a party, and I think he’s important, because everyone acted different when he arrived. They all scrambled to make sure he had everything he wanted, and when I saw him I decided I was going to make sure I was on that list.

  He caught me watching him and sent one of his boys over to invite me to join him upstairs. He headed for the stairs before I even had a chance to answer. That kind of confidence is so fucking hot, as is the rest of him.

  I went upstairs, and Mr. Bedroom Eyes was waiting for me. When I stepped into the room, he closed the door behind me, ran his thumb over my lips, and before he even kissed me, he told me to get on my knees. See? A man. Don’t worry, he earned his nickname. And me? I earned my high.

  This might be the start of something beautiful.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Alexandra

  “Hey there, beautiful.”