Changing Lanes: A Creekwood Novel (Creekwood Series Book 2)

by A. Marie

  “Stop that. Goddamn it, Beck! You’re bleeding.”

  Blood replaces the mucus dripping down my face.

  “She has to come, Dad! She has to!” I yell through the warm liquid. I’m a caged animal and he’s the bars keeping me from what I really want.

  We’re both heaving, both fighting to breathe like we actually can.

  “Listen to me. She’s not coming back. You have to move on. You need to.” My dad shakes me, his hair finally falling forward, and a whimper escapes…one of us. I can’t tell who.

  The pounding is making it hard to concentrate but I try anyway.

  “Beck, I’m trying my best. I really am. I can’t take losing you, too, so please just stop. We’ll get you cleaned up, then we need to leave. They’re not going to call her. She doesn’t want us to. Do you get that?”

  “You. You mean she doesn’t want you. She’ll come back for me.” She has to. I need her. He doesn’t.

  “If that were true, she would’ve taken you with her.”

  I rear back as if he slapped me. He might as well have. It would’ve hurt less. The look in his eyes haunts me. It’s the same one I see when I look in the mirror and I drop my gaze to the cast still in his hold, wishing he’d let go like he let go of her.

  “She will. She’ll come for me,” I whisper over a hiccup. Maybe not this time. Maybe not this injury. There will be a time though where I’m hurt so bad that she’ll have no choice but to come back and when she does I’ll be waiting. Always waiting.

  There’s yelling and I furrow my brows, confused.

  “Beckett! Open the door!”

  Paige? Why is she here? How?

  In a quieter voice I hear, “here goes nothing,” then my door is kicked in. My bedroom door. The one in my apartment, not the hospital room from so many years ago.

  I sit straight up in bed, realizing too late that I’m drenched.

  “What the fuck?” I yell at her. She wasn’t supposed to see this. She’s not supposed to be here period.

  Thank all my unlucky stars her door was locked last night. What a mistake that would’ve been. This is already too fucking close, just like I told Marc.

  Paige’s eyes are frantic as she sweeps the room. Landing back on me, they soften but only marginally. It’s enough though. Goddamn it, it’s enough.

  I grit, “get out,” but am thoroughly ignored as she comes further into the room. Like, what?

  My clammy body, ready for flight, is covered only by a sheet until it’s yanked out of my grasp by my nosey ass roommate.

  How long will an eviction notice take to type up ‘cause I’m done.

  I drop my feet to the floor, ready to end Paige’s interrogation before it can even start but she catches me off guard, saying, “You’re bleeding. What the hell happened?”

  I pause, noticing the red pool on the sheet in Paige’s hands and scowl. Feeling my upper lip, my fingers come away covered in blood.

  Shit. This hasn’t happened in a long time.

  “What happened? I heard-”

  “Fuck if I know,” I cut her off, afraid to hear her finish that sentence. “I was sleeping. You’re the one that busted in here without permission. Now get the fuck out of my room. And you’re paying to fix my door, too.”

  I’m blessed with an eye roll and Paige coming even closer, not leaving like I told her to. This girl.

  Parting my knees with hers, she plugs my nose just above my nostrils. She thinks it’s a simple nose bleed. She has no idea and I intend on keeping it that way.

  “What are you doing?” My voice comes out nasally and not at all intimidating like I hoped. “I told you to leave.”

  Her face lowers until we’re at eye level with each other and my heart slows. What is she going to say? What does she see?

  “Since when do I listen to you?” she asks softly. It’s meant to be rude but there’s a pleasantness to her tone, like her melodic voice is meant to distract me from being led to slaughter.

  “Since you sit outside my door like a fucking creep.”

  She laughs then straightens, rearranging her feet. My legs fall open to the sides to make room which brings her chest in my line of vision. She’s wearing an oversized plain t-shirt that barely covers her ass which appears to only be concealed by a thin, black scrap of fabric trying to pass as underwear.

  Are you kidding me? She really is trying to kill me.

  “You’re one to talk.” Her arched eyebrow has mine raising in response.

  Touché.

  Yeah, she knew exactly what she was doing last night.

  A towel is wrapped around her head like she just got out of the shower and I fight the urge to rip the stupid thing off to run my fingers through her hair. My senses are on overdrive having her in my space. Her smell, the light yet sure touch of her care, the rumble of her knowing laugh—it’s all clashing together into one tantalizing spell.

  Leaning into her touch, she approves, saying, “Good. Tilt forward so the blood will stop.”

  Blood?

  Oh, yeah. The reason she’s in here in the first place. Not to seduce me but because she heard me dreaming about my mother. The only woman that’s been able to twist me up like a fucking pretzel.

  Until Paige came along.

  Whatever that shit last night was must’ve brought on the dream. Or more accurately, nightmare. Either way, I haven’t had one for a while. A long while, thankfully. The guys have heard them, maybe even seen the results a time or two when I couldn’t get to the bathroom to clean my face fast enough, but nobody’s ever kicked down my fucking door during one. No, that honor goes to Paige. The pushy as shit, sexier than hell biker perched between my thighs. The reminder has my cock pulsing to life.

  “Want to talk about it?”

  And that reminder has the poor guy shriveling up into a damn near comatose state.

  “I’m not interested in having a heart-to-heart,” I snap, throwing her words back in her face.

  With a shake of my head, her hand falls away as I push to standing. Our bodies slide along each other’s in the process and Paige’s shirt raises from the friction. She goes to fix it but I shoot out to stop her hand with mine.

  Her gaze leaps to my face, watching me closely.

  My finger grazes her flat stomach and I almost groan from the contact. Seeing it in the pool nearly undid me. Her black strap bikini was the ultimate temptation daring me to look without being able to touch. Feeling her skin now has me contemplating dropping to my knees to taste the goods.

  “Why would you kick down my door with bare feet?” I ask quietly.

  “I didn’t have any shoes on.” Such a hardass.

  “You know what I mean.”

  Sighing, she says, “My brother Nick had night terrors when we were younger and they always scared the shit out of me. You could never tell if it was real or not. The crippling fear from an unknown source always made me anxious. I would watch him through every single one just to be sure nothing was actually terrorizing him.” Her voice lowers. “It felt so real, that sometimes I thought it was.”

  She drops her head to watch my finger move back and forth, back and forth and I do the same. An image of this stomach tightened in climax last night as she cried out my name beckons my dick out of his abrupt nap.

  Jumping on the subject change, I ask, “You have a brother?”

  After a snicker, Paige spins on her heel to walk back out of the room.

  Girl never does what I expect. Never. It’s what I like most and least about her.

  Spark fully back in place, she throws out over her shoulder, “Glad you’re not dead. Next time, keep your door unlocked so I don’t end up breaking my foot.”

  I snort. There won’t be a next time if I can help it.

  “Or you could try minding your own fucking business,” I call out in vain as I watch her lace covered ass sway out my splintered door, my eyes swinging like a pendulum to track each cheek. As glad as I am not to be dying either, it’s not a bad way to go.
I’m just sayin’.

  The outstanding ass and body attached to it stop and I jerk my gaze up to see Paige peering at me through heavy lids.

  “I will when you do.” Eh. Fat chance. “Get yourself cleaned up. I need a ride to get my bike and Marc already left for work.”

  Hold up.

  “You weren’t walking around like that when he was here, were you?”

  Chick has the nerve to smirk at me then disappears into the hall before yelling, “Let’s go, roomie.”

  The lack of ass in my room brings everything back into focus. And this, not only what happened last night but also today, now, is bad. So bad. This is exactly what I was worried about.

  Oh, I’ll give her a fucking ride alright. I’ll drive her past her breaking point until she’s ready to move out of both the apartment and my life.

  Roomie.

  CHAPTER 11

  Paige

  “No way,” I say, glaring at his Ninja.

  After our weird exchange this morning, Beckett and I spent the morning ignoring each other. Once I had some regular clothes on, I went to clean up the mess I made but he’d already taken care of it and I felt too awkward to knock on the door that I broke with this morning’s dramatic entrance. I ate breakfast on the balcony overlooking the pool, stealing glances at him as he ate at the kitchen counter, with his back strategically turned to me.

  Why, oh why, did I have to choose today to care if Beckett was being strangled by a demonic ghost? It may not have been a night terror like Nick used to have but Beckett is absolutely being haunted by something. Or someone, judging by what I heard.

  I throw my free hand on my hip. My favorite gray riding jacket and a helmet he loaned me take up my other arm. Today’s heat calls for shorts even though I hate riding in anything other than pants but you can’t argue with hundred-degree dry heat. My loose white tank covers cut-off shorts and my signature black boots complete the ensemble.

  “What?” Beckett bites out.

  Lip sneered in disgust, I lay on the attitude—thick. “Do I look like a fucking backpack?” If he thinks I’m riding with my arms wrapped around him after that whole scene last night, he’s got another thing coming. It was bad enough having his finger on me this morning without making a complete fool of myself by begging for more. And that was just his finger. It is a long finger but still, it shouldn’t have that kind of effect on me. He shouldn’t have that kind of effect on me. He’s my roommate. And kind of a dickish one at that.

  Beckett makes a show of inspecting my body and it’s like last night all over again. His demanding hands and teasing mouth. He’s so good at playing around, he forgets how serious things can get. A want so primal began as soon as he speared me against the building that I couldn’t think straight. My body required one thing and one thing only, and that was Beckett. He consumed me in those moments and I was spiraling into a frenzy of need and want, lost to the feeling of his tantalizing touch. The hardness just beneath his silky shorts, the softness of his hands as they held me in place, the teasing in his voice as it slid over my face coaxing me closer.

  I almost gave in.

  The allure was unbearable to deny until his words turned cold, practically freezing my reaction to him. The hunger raged on, but the provider changed. I scratched the itch he caused and made sure he heard it.

  “Never mind, I’ll get someone else to take me.”

  That’ll do it. He hates the thought of someone else coming to my rescue, as stupid as that is, and he’ll back down.

  Instead though, he says, “Don’t be an asshole. I get it—you’re big, you’re bad, you ride your own bike. Nobody thinks you’re a backpack. Now, get on, shut up, and let’s go. I’m late for work.”

  See? Dickish.

  I can guess what he’ll say but I still try with, “Then let me drive. You can hold onto me.”

  He barks out a laugh. “And here I thought I was the funny one.”

  “You’re not.”

  “Now that’s funny. Come on already. You’re out of your mind if you think I’m riding bitch on my own bike, girl.”

  Ignoring my deep frown, he mounts his green machine and starts it up. With narrowed eyes, I suggest taking his Tahoe but am met with ear-splitting revving.

  But I’m the asshole, huh?

  With my jacket in place, my helmet is tugged over my head in the next instant and I’m gripping his arm for leverage to climb on behind. I feel the rough patch of skin again and briefly wonder if there’s a story there.

  My face blazes and I’m grateful none of my friends from the races are around to see me perched on the pillion. I’d never live down riding as a passenger.

  Even though he deserves it, I leave my jacket unzipped and open in the front so it won’t rub him raw and lean as far forward as his back allows until his shirt and mine are fused together into one thin cloth between our hot bodies. Beckett’s muscles tense when I slide my hands along his sides then I wrap my arms around his solid chest, squeezing hard. My thighs are spread as wide as they can go, just shy of painful, making me glad I wore shorts today.

  Beckett quickly busies himself backing out so I rest my head against his shoulder blade. Typical male, he doesn’t know where we’re going and refuses to ask for help, instead just blundering ahead and hoping it’ll all work out in the end.

  I’m not stupid. I know why we’re taking his bike today. He’s worried I’ll dig into what happened this morning, or in his past, but going off what I saw in his room, I don’t think I want to know. The day I ask about his life is the day he’ll ask about mine and I have no intention of letting Beckett anywhere near my personal business. I’ve already witnessed four grown men buckle from the pressure of my mother’s disease, I won’t put that on anyone else’s shoulders—regardless of how sturdy they might’ve felt beneath my hands last night.

  It’s a heavy load and I’m bearing it the way everyone obviously expects—alone.

  The exit approaches and it finally dawns on him that he has no idea which way to take.

  Biting my lip, I stifle a snicker.

  Beckett’s head turns and I hear his muffled voice demanding directions. It would be too easy to give him the address and I don’t feel like going easy right now considering I didn’t even want to ride back here to begin with. So, I run my right hand down his abs, relishing the way his muscles tighten as I go, until I reach his hip. His work pants are stretched over his thick thighs and I slip my hand over the bulging muscles there, too.

  Beckett’s breathing halts while mine picks up.

  Once I find the inside of his thigh, I spread my palm flat and squeeze to signal which direction to turn. Beckett only sits there for another moment, not reacting whatsoever so I squeeze again and return my hand taking the same path back to his torso.

  His head drops then, shaking slightly, before raising to make a right.

  Good boy.

  The rest of the ride continues with my silent directions and soon we arrive at the first bar my brothers ever let me visit, Xen’s. Them being friends with the owner is the only reason I was allowed in then and still allowed in now at only twenty. Jesse and Dixon graduated together and he makes it a point of reminding everyone within ear shot whenever I stop in. Hence why I had Evan as my designated driver last night. He was the only one Dixon approved of, probably thinking I’d scare the poor boy off before he had a chance to get his pants unbuttoned. Turns out Beckett beat me to it with his concerned roommate act. It was probably for the best considering I came pretty damn hard all on my own. I doubt that guy even knows where the clit is, let alone how to work one. Luckily, my vibrator is phenomenal at doing just that.

  Just ask Beckett.

  I’m full on chuckling when he pulls up next to my baby girl. Unfortunately, Beckett’s thunderous face ends my amusement once I’m back on the ground.

  “What the hell was that? Are you trying to make me come in my pants like a fucking teenager?”

  Oh. That.

  I make the mistake
of grinning and Beckett growls, like literally growls. Instead of scaring me like he intended though, I lose the fight trying to contain my laughter, sending me into near hysterics. My head is thrown back in the hardest laugh I’ve had since one of my friends, Shan, wrecked his bike on the first day of owning it. The guy scraped the entire left side of his Audi, essentially fucking up both rides at once and I almost peed myself laughing so hard that day. It was funny in a pathetic kind of way. Just like this.

  A few thigh squeezes is all it takes to get Beckett off? I file that information away for later use. It seems like it could come in handy.

  And…that sends me into another fit of laughter all over again.

  “Sorry. I’m sorry.” I throw my hands up, biting my cheek.

  Beckett rolls his eyes as he stands to his full height, adjusting himself. Sometimes I forget how tall he is until moments like this when his close proximity reveals the mountain he truly is. One I was all too eager to scale last night thanks to my effort at forgetting my clusterfuck life.

  He adjusts his dick unabashedly and even as he catches me looking, I don’t shy away. He almost brought me to orgasm last night with that impressive package. I’ll gawk as I see fit. And I. See. Fit.

  “It’s bad enough I had to jerk off like a fifteen-year-old all over again, I don’t need to add shooting my load before penetration, too.”

  My eyebrows skim the clouds.

  “Oh, you thought you were the only one getting off last night?”

  I shrug noncommittally making Beckett scoff.

  “Tell me what you were thinking about as you fucked yourself and I’ll tell you what I pictured when I nutted outside your door.”

  Holy shit. This guy’s mouth is as dirty as it is tempting.

  My eyes raise to it all on their own to see his tongue drag along his bottom lip before biting the whole thing into his mouth. My thighs clench and I wish I was on my bike so I could get the hell out of here already.

  I wanted a distraction, right? Beckett checks that box with all the dependability of a number two pencil. He’s been one constant, long distraction since I moved in but he shouldn’t be. Not for me. He needs someone that has the time to open up whatever the hell he has tucked away from the general public.