by Cari Quinn
“Yes. And because she could trust me, even if she didn’t like me much more than I ever liked her. And because I’m a big motherfucker.”
She snorted. Since his still half hard dick was wedged against her belly, she had to concur. He was big in all ways.
“What leverage did she have on you?”
She expected him to argue. Or just not answer. Not to reply as if he’d been waiting for this day all this time.
“My garage was in trouble. It needed some money to keep going, and I didn’t want my men to suffer just because my career had hit the skids and I was too stubborn to touch much of my father’s money.”
“You mentioned a garage in the car. Where you store the Stingray. You own it?”
“Yeah.”
“So you worked on cars too?”
“Some.”
“Your career. Racing, you mean. Why did it end?”
He rubbed the side of his face, looking anywhere but at her. “I got involved with a fan and she OD’d. The press implicated me, that I had contributed to her decline. Her family was wealthy and powerful.”
The words spun through her head, turning her stomach and making her dizzy. Overdosed. Of course.
Another parallel. But she wasn’t going to press that point because it was a miracle he was even answering her questions at all.
“So’s yours.”
“I shunned my father’s help. If I didn’t want anything to do with him otherwise, didn’t seem right to have him bury the story, now did it?”
“And your mother? You’d sided with her once against Lila. For obvious reasons.”
“Yeah, until she got married three times more and made a mockery of everything I’d ever thought about her. They belonged together.” He shook his head in disgust. “I got lucky in that I found my grandparents when I was a teenager. I have my brother. As for the rest, I didn’t need them then and I don’t need them now.”
Hearing that made her immeasurably sad. She would’ve given anything to have her family back, and his was alive and he was renouncing them. Not that she didn’t understand, but God, your family was your family.
And sometimes you had to make your own.
“Lila held money over your head to help me. What else?” Elle asked after a couple minutes.
“She made the story go away. Got the press off my back.”
“How?”
“How do they do any of the shit they pull off, her and Donovan? Grease the right palms, call in the right favors. It’s still out there if you dig, but it became sixth page news instead of first thanks to her influence.”
“The girl who overdosed. The fan. You cared for her?”
He nodded, and she swallowed the rush of envy toward some tragic faceless woman she didn’t even know. Being jealous of someone who had been around long before her made no sense.
But he’d acknowledged that he’d been involved with her. Elle still didn’t know if their involvement would last beyond this trip.
Elle brushed her hair out of her face. Now that the adrenaline was backing off, her aches and pains were returning in full force. “That explains why you shun fan contact and can’t stand the press.”
“I never liked the whole fan culture. Not the fans themselves. Just the environment that’s conducive to making strangers think they own a piece of you. It’s dangerous.”
“As you found out.”
“I’m hardly the first. The fanbase was less rabid in racing, but it was a definite factor there too.”
“So that’s why you didn’t want to join the band.” Elle rubbed her hand under her nose. At least she’d stopped crying. “And because I was there.”
“Lila wanted me to join, but I didn’t know you were already a contender too. I initially agreed, then I backed out.”
“She let you?”
“Yes, because you were safe. For what it’s worth, I think she really just wanted to make sure you were okay.”
“At your expense.”
He didn’t reply.
“That night at Vinnie’s, I don’t remember much. But you told me to run. You helped me out a window—” She paused, struggling to bring the hazy details in her head into sharper focus. “The bathroom. And you had a hat. Hair.” She touched his head and he shifted toward her, leaning into her palm. “Dark, like Michael’s. It was almost long.”
“No. It just wasn’t short.”
The correction was so like Mal she had to laugh. Her eyes grew damp again and he shook his head, reaching down to lace his fingers with hers.
“Don’t. Just don’t. You’re thinking that I had no choices, that it’s your fault I was there.”
“It was. You keep having to step between me and whatever the latest threat is, and now I’m here in bed with you and it feels like—”
He moved away from her before she could finish, climbing off the bed and stalking away. She almost thought he’d walk through the door and keep going, but he didn’t. He gripped the back of his neck before shifting to face her again. “It feels like you’re grateful to me.” His voice was gritty and low. “That this is just some misplaced sense of gratitude.”
“No. God, no. You think I screw everyone who does something kind for me?” She didn’t expect an answer and she didn’t get one. “If you think I’m crazy for regretting you never really had a choice before getting sucked into my melodrama, I think you’re crazy for believing I’d ever do this just to say thanks for pushing me out of the way. Twice.” She took a breath. “Fucking twice now, Malachi. What’s next?”
“You might be keeping score, but I’m not.”
She buried her head in her hands. “You know what I’m feeling right now?”
“If you say regret—”
“Christ, no. Who regrets the best sex they’ve ever had? Like times fifty-eight-thousand?” She glanced up as he sat on the edge of the bed.
The suckiest part of this whole conversation? She hadn’t even been able to properly appreciate his fine specimen of a naked body.
“The only thing I’m regretting is I didn’t get my afterglow. That’s a requirement. Instead I had to take a stroll down memory lane.”
“Long overdue one.”
She couldn’t argue that point.
He reclined against the pillow, stretching out his big body and giving her basically no choice but to ogle him. She deserved the ogle, dammit. It wasn’t fair she hadn’t gotten her post-sex cuddles either.
Though with Mal, those seemed highly unlikely.
“I like being held after being boned brainless.”
He lifted a brow and held out an arm. “Then why are you so far away?”
She curled up against his side and pressed her cheek to his chest. His rampaging heartbeat would always be his tell. The one way she knew for certain he wasn’t unaffected, no matter how he might seem.
His fingers drifted through her hair, untangling the snarled strands. He played with it so long that she almost fell asleep, lulled by his now slowing heartbeat.
“Best sex ever, huh?”
She opened an eye. “Took you long enough to preen.”
“Was still pissed at you gratitude-fucking me.”
“Which I did not do.” She turned her head and met his gaze. “You know I didn’t. It couldn’t have been like that if I had.”
His thumb traced her cheekbone. “I’m supposed to drive back and meet some investigators tomorrow in the city.”
Just like that, her newly attained sense of calm split in two. She knew it had been a false one, since she hadn’t fully unpacked the Lila, Vinnie, and Mal situation. But it had been enough of one to allow her to nearly fall asleep.
So much for that.
She sat up and rubbed her shoulder. Hello, pins and needles, right on time. “What?”
He looked up at the ceiling. “That’s what I wasn’t telling you. That they’re looking into the accident and want to talk to me about it. You too.”
“Looking into it how? What do you mean?” She bi
t her lip. “They think it wasn’t an accident?”
“They’re investigating.”
“Yeah, I got that part. And what, you were just going to tell them I was too emotionally unstable to talk to them?” She slugged him hard in the gut. “Seriously, dude, you are getting on my last nerve.”
He caught her fist and held it against his rock-hard stomach. He probably hadn’t even felt her damn punch. “I told you now,” he said evenly.
“Only because I just melted down.”
“No, because if I believe you’re strong—and I do, or I wouldn’t be here right now—I need to treat you that way.”
“Sure about that? Sure you’re not saving me to make up for the one you couldn’t save?”
She nearly groaned aloud. God, she hadn’t meant to say that. Hell, to even think it. He’d cared about that woman, and losing her had to have been difficult. To throw his kindness back in his face—again—was unconscionable.
“I didn’t even try,” he said quietly. “I decided she was too much trouble and I cut her loose.”
“Addicts are trouble. They’re bad bets, and a smart person has to understand that. There are no guarantees.” She swallowed hard, knowing full well that she might end up driving him away.
But she owed him honesty. Unvarnished and uncensored.
If she couldn’t give him anything else, she could offer him that.
“I’m trying, God, I’m trying so fucking hard, but I slipped once already. Twice if you count the alcohol separately, and you should because I never had a problem with drink. But I didn’t care what I got in me. It hasn’t even been two weeks, and I’ve slipped twice. That’s what addicts do. We manage to make it for a while, and then something happens, life happens,” she swiped at the tears that had started again, “and we slip. We fall. And sometimes we don’t get up again.”
“Tell me someone who doesn’t use something to get through every day and I’ll tell you they’re a liar.” He leaned forward and cupped her jaw. “So-called healthy addictions are addictions too.”
“What, you think someone who likes to jog too much is the same?” She shook her head, but she couldn’t quite bring herself to move his hand from her face.
She loved him touching her far too much.
“In a way, it is. We all need something to make it through the night. Someone.” He dragged in a breath. “It isn’t what the textbooks recommend, but fuck them. Fuck everyone who says they know what’s the right way to handle this shit.”
“What are you saying?” she asked shakily.
“Until you can do this all the way on your own, let me help.”
“How?”
“Let me be your addiction for a while.” His gaze stayed steady, never wavering. “As long as it takes.”
Chapter Twenty
In the night, she turned to him. More than once. Twice, three times, she lost count. Sleep never lasted long, but in the moments between, he was there. Covering her with his body, surrounding her, filling her. Chasing away the darkness with pleasure and need.
She hadn’t agreed to his idea. It wasn’t safe or sane. She’d worked the program, and she understood all too well how dangerous it was to transfer an addiction.
But she wasn’t strong enough to say no, especially since she’d already been halfway addicted to begin with. From the first time they’d danced—as weird as it was because the jerk barely moved—something about being against him had felt right. Familiar, but exciting too. She’d never anticipated being with someone before so much in her life. And now that they’d been together, she only wanted more.
And more.
Luckily, he was more than happy to oblige. As was his overeager cock. Beast indeed.
Toward morning, he murmured for her to stay in bed. That he’d be back soon. She’d nodded and fallen back asleep, exhausted and sore and emotionally weary in a way rest couldn’t cure.
The next time she opened her eyes, the room was full of sunlight. She crawled across the mattress to fumble for her phone on the nightstand, pushing aside the half empty box of condoms.
They might have taken a while to make it into bed, but once they’d gotten there, there had been no stopping them.
It was past noon, and more than half a dozen texts waited for her. What the hell? She hadn’t had her phone on silent that long, had she? But she had missed messages from Denver, Michael, and Nicky, along with two missed calls. Lila had texted too.
And Jules. Finally.
Thank God.
Elle swiped the text across the screen and read it with her throat tight.
I’m sorry I’ve been out of touch. Please come home soon.
She lifted the cell to her forehead, her shoulders shaking with the effort not to cry. She couldn’t break down again. Every time she cracked, it became that much harder to shore up her defenses again.
“Let me be your addiction for a while.”
She hadn’t agreed, not officially, but that hadn’t stopped her from fucking him senseless all night long. Already, she wanted him again. He was a craving in her blood that she wasn’t sure she could ever sate.
More texts waited for her, and she had to answer Jules, along with figuring out where Mal had disappeared to.
First, she had to pee. Really freaking bad. And a shower would be good. She’d probably lost a quart of her fluids from the workout she’d put her body through.
Despite everything, she smiled. Actually, that he’d put her body through.
She climbed out of bed and had taken two steps before the ache between her legs kicked in. The one in her shoulder along with the intermittent numbness she was already getting used to. But this? She hadn’t felt that sore since the first time she’d had sex with Andy Carter in the flatbed of his parents’ tricked out Silverado.
Unsurprising, since Mal was basically the human version of a Silverado himself. V-8 engine and all.
On her way to the bathroom, she detoured to the window framed by pretty lace curtains tied back with gingham ribbons. The mix of delicate with homespun was as charming as the rest of the rustic room. She peeked out, pulling the curtain aside and gasping at the few meandering flakes coming down from a slate-gray sky. The sun that had been bright just a few moments ago was already gone, but now there was snow.
She pressed her fist to her mouth. Was it the first snowfall of the season? That was special.
Just as fast as it had begun, it stopped.
She frowned and glanced down at the miles of rolling pastures and orchards below. Well, that was lame. None was on the ground, so those few flakes must’ve been it. She shifted her head, checking to make sure, her hand fisting on the curtain as she glimpsed Mr. And Mrs. Ronson and Mal stringing lights along the back fences. She smiled. He’d bitched nonstop about Christmas, but there he was, helping his grandparents just the same.
Even from this high up, he was freakishly tall and broad. Impossible to ignore. She released the curtain and traced her fingertip over the light sheen of condensation on the glass, grinning as she noticed she’d drawn a heart.
You’ve got it bad, Crandall.
She was overdue. Long overdue. She’d had her share of failed romances, but she’d only felt like this about a guy…never.
Precisely never.
Not even close.
She made herself turn away from the window and head into the bathroom. Quickly, she took care of business and stepped into the shower, glad for once she didn’t have to deal with her sling. The water was pleasantly hot, the pressure strong, and as she palmed the evergreen-scented shampoo, she caught herself smiling again.
There was little reason to. What was waiting for her at home would be emotionally trying, to say the least. As much as she wanted to be there for Jules and Tristan and the rest of the band, she didn’t feel prepared. Who ever could be for something like that?
Now there were investigators in the mix too. What could they think had happened? She didn’t have any answers for them. She’d barely realized what wa
s happening before Mal had pushed her down, blocking her with his body—
She gasped as the shower curtain flew across the rod. She stared at Mal as he stepped in, shrinking back against the tile wall to try to make room.
He cocked a brow as he pulled the curtain closed. “Hi. Remember me?”
It made her laugh and sputter water as she slicked her hair back. “You were just outside.”
“Now I’m in.” He gripped her hip and dragged her close. Right up against his cock, which was already happy to see her. “Hoping to be all the way in soon.”
She groaned softly. “Soreness is a thing here. Ever heard of breaking a girl in gently?”
“No, because there hasn’t been seconds in years.” His mouth came down on hers, hard and unrelenting. She reciprocated in kind, raising up on her tiptoes to wind her good arm around his neck and press her breasts to his chest. God, that felt good. All that hot, taut, wet skin, rubbing against her nipples—
She jerked back. “No seconds?”
“No.” He tugged her up again, taking her mouth with a hunger she’d never get tired of.
How long had she waited to be wanted even half this much?
“For years, you said?” she asked between kisses. Not that she had much time to get the words out.
“No.” He reached down and palmed her ass, slipping his fingers down until they hovered just outside her pussy. “If you want to know how long it’s been since I’ve had an actual girlfriend, just ask.”
“Okay.” She shook back her soaked hair. “How long has it been since you’ve had an actual girlfriend?”
“Since Cassalia, months before the night we met.”
Hearing her name didn’t make Elle’s jealousy abate. She wasn’t proud of it, but she couldn’t help her feelings. Even though his relationship with Cassalia was in the past, it was natural to feel possessive of someone you lo—
Liked. A lot. Right.
It was too soon for anything more.
“Okay.” She arched against him, attacking his mouth to stop her runaway thoughts and because he tasted like spiced apples and sex.