Toxic

by Kathy Coopmans

  “Don’t.” I’m right up in his face. My finger is tapping his chest. “You don’t get the right to kick me out right now. I’ve put up with your bullshit for long enough. You, Alex, are going to listen to me.”

  He steps back running his hands through his luscious dark hair, leaving it messy in the sexiest of ways. It’s then I notice the black eye forming and the welts on his cheeks. Clarity strikes me. Someone hurt him. God, how I want to drop my defenses and take him in my arms. If I do, I’ll never follow through on what I came here to do. I have to continue, no matter the cost or overwhelming need I have inside of me to be a friend to this guy.

  “I don’t want your money. I have my pride. You may be able to pay off everyone else in your life, but not me.” I dig the envelope out of my purse, clutching it in my hand. “I’m sorry, truly sorry for whatever is eating you alive. I can tell it’s something bad. But listen, Alex, it does not give you an excuse to treat others like shit.”

  I shove the envelope into his chest. He doesn’t move. I step a little closer. It’s a stare down of epic proportions. Two strong-willed individuals who are not willing to step back. It’s Alex who moves first, lowering his face to within an inch of mine. It’s the first time he doesn’t reek of whiskey. The combination of oranges, leather, and straight sex intoxicates me. Ironic that he’s sober as day while making me drunk as hell on him.

  “It’s not polite to return gifts.” His voice rumbles around me in a seductive dance that taps right between my legs.

  “I never said I was polite. An apology for being an asshole isn’t a gift. I’m not taking it.”

  “You are,” he growls between clenched teeth.

  I open my mouth to reply, and God help me now because, on instinct, I raise my hand, lightly brushing the nasty bruise forming below his eye. Alex winces at the touch, shuts his eyes, and inhales deeply. I try to keep my eyes on his face and not on his arms and chest, which are bulging against his light blue dress shirt. It’s hard not to. He obliterates the word ‘sexy.’ Raises the bar for other men to challenge him in defining what it means.

  “Your touch feels good, Maria.” I smile even though he can’t see me. It fades when his lids flutter open. I drop my hand. My hard demeanor shifting right back into place.

  “I’ll leave it with your secretary. The hundred-dollar bills are in there from last night, too, and so is a set of keys I’m guessing you lost.”

  I put the final puzzle pieces together last night during my Google search. Alex’s unmistakable sexy-as-sin black BMW was in the majority of the pictures.

  He lets out a breath, and in return I hold mine. His eyes flare the bit of life buried deep down in his lost soul. His tongue darts out and seductively swipes across his bottom lip. Energy zaps in the air. Heat steams my blood, and his heart pounds faster with every beat underneath my touch. He and I can’t happen, no matter how badly my body may be craving it.

  I tightly smile and step back, moving my hand away from the envelope. It’s his choice to let it drop to the floor or hold on to it. “Take care, Alex.”

  I turn on my heel, heart cracking over a man I barely know. I’d give anything not to leave. To turn around and say something to make that man smile. I can’t shake the pull I feel. It’s powerful and all-consuming to a point it frightens me. It would be easy to chalk it up to the fixer in me, but I know it’s so much more than that. Alex has somehow gotten to me. There’s a back-and-forth game of tug of war going on inside of me. Sorrow and empathy are battling between attraction and curiosity.

  My hand grips the doorknob. I turn to get one last glimpse of a sober Alex. He has the envelope clutched to his chest. His battered face makes my knees go weak. I manage a forced smile as I soak in the man before me.

  “Alex.”

  I wait for him to look up at me. His haunted, rich cocoa eyes pierce through my skin.

  “I don’t know what happened.” I gesture to his face. “It’s none of my business. But it would be wrong of me to walk away without saying that I like this Alex a whole lot better than the other half of you. I hope for his sake he makes his presence known. Sober looks good on you. Don’t let the ugly side win.”

  I’m wrecked as my cowboy boots click on the marble floor. Alex Diamond pulled at my heartstrings when it was least expected. There’s an invisible rope tugging us together. It’s a force I won’t be able to avoid. Or at least that’s what my heart is telling me.

  5

  Alex

  I’m not sure what to think about Maria storming in here. Her fiery temper seizing hold of some kind of lust that went straight to my chest before it tugged on my balls.

  She was in here all of five minutes, yet her smell still lingers. Sweet and sass, fucking all kinds of wicked spices are mixing up inside of that woman.

  A tiny, perfectly wicked fairy with a body of an enchantress.

  I rub my temples, the argument with my dad striking my nerve endings. Jesus Christ, I’m all kinds of screwed up, and if the wicked truth didn’t stare me in the eyes with the amount of worry his features showed, it sure as shit struck me down when Aaron cold-cocked me, told me to pull my head out of my ass, or he’d drag me into the ring. Fucked-up thing is, my brother might be able to box, but he sure as shit doesn’t have the street-smart fighting I’m used to doing, and he’s the last person I’d inflict physical pain on. The emotional pain I’ve caused is bad enough. So much so, he didn’t hesitate to tell me he’d give up ruling the empire one day and take over my job if I didn’t straighten myself out.

  “Screw you, Aaron; you will not get this job.” I might not be a stone-cold killer like him, but I do know how to defend myself with my fists. It was a necessity growing up as a Diamond.

  He knows as well as I do that I followed the leaders of our empire around while pretending I was interested in ruling one day. Not sure when I realized it wasn’t for me. But I stayed on, learned the ins and outs of running a business. Got damn good at it, too.

  And to me, that’s what it was all about. The numbers, figures, and the money.

  My money, material things, and the ability to do what I want don’t mean shit when you don’t have someone to share it with. A woman who doesn’t give a crap whether I’m rich or poor.

  Someone made for me. Her. Maria.

  I learned the ways of the street, the dealings of guns, and how to sneak up on someone in the dead of night without a sound. I was also taught by Aidan Hughes, my dad’s head of security, how to fuck someone up, kill them, or permanently make sure they never talk again with one solid expertise punch to the throat.

  Maybe getting in the ring with the one man who might have many years on me but can still fight the raw and dirty way I like might be the kind of thing I need.

  I grab my phone, pull up his name, and shoot off a text, asking him if he’ll be out here this weekend for the game.

  When he responds back with a yes, I ask him if he’d like to hit the mats with me, and chuckle when his response of It’s about time sends a surge of adrenaline through my bloodstream.

  “I need a drink,” I sputter to myself, open the drawer on the left of my desk, and grab my stash. Take a solid swig out of the bottle and pour a few fingers into a glass.

  I know better than to be drinking at work, especially when I’ll be driving home. After the morning I’ve had with my aggression, anger, and confrontation with everyone, it has become clear that today isn’t the day to quit. The empty bottles rattle around in the drawer as I push it shut. A brutal fucking reminder of how out of control I am.

  My mind gets the best of me. Maria’s touch, her face, and her words stream into my brain.

  I like this Alex better.

  Shit. I scrub my hands down my face. Flinch when I feel how warm the knot under my eye is. Damn thing is going to be puffed up, swollen, and black and blue for days.

  “What happened to you?”

  I look up just as I reach for the crystal tumbler with the team's logo pristinely etched across the glass, dow
n the rest of the whiskey, and glance up at Justice.

  “Alex.” Her tone pleads with me to talk to her, say anything to ease her mind.

  “I’ll be fine. Go home to your daughter. I got the rest of the week. The season has started. There’s no need for you to be here. Thanks for covering my ass today. I’ll see you at the game on Sunday.”

  I rattle my blunt shit off quickly. I mean it, though; she needs to get going.

  Her brows pull down in that uncertain look I’ve seen many times over the years. Her fuck-off expression would be funny if this position I got myself into weren’t screwed a hundred different ways.

  “Someone finally told you to pull your shit together, and now you’re drinking at work because of it. Well, good for them. You need to put that glass away right now. If you don’t want to talk about your face, then tell me who the woman was who just stomped her boots all over our floor. She’s pretty, Alex. What did you do to piss her off?”

  She leans both hands on my desk, her lips trying to hold back a smile. It’s contained by her anger.

  I hold back on telling her she has Maria all wrong. The woman is fucking stunning, beautiful, and gorgeous. A man’s dream in the middle of his Goddamn never-ending nightmare.

  “I’ve had a half a glass; I’m done. Her name is Maria. Met her in Montana.” I’m not about to tell her there was only that much left in the bottle. I don’t bother to hide my smile either when flashes of the sexy little thing who stormed in here, dropped her anger along with doing her best and failing to hide she’s feeling something for me all over her pelt me like a cold, hard rain. My little fairy left me hard as granite. She also left me her last name. Wasn’t quite sure if it was Richards or not. I was kind of hoping it was her when my secretary said Maria. Glad it was, and now that I know, she isn’t walking away from me as easily as she might think.

  Knew that girl was full of something powerful. Her little ass swaying in those shorts, bare legs all decked out in sparkly cowboy boots, about had me doing my own kind of stomping down the hallway to lift her up and smother her sass with my mouth. Fuck me if her hellion temper didn’t spark something inside of me I haven’t felt before, and the sooner I figure out what, the fucking better.

  Whatever it is that I feel has me wanting to toss the empty thousand-dollar bottle of whiskey up against the wall.

  “Hmm. She doesn’t look like your type. What did you do to piss her off?” she repeats her question. Shit, I got so lost in my thoughts I forgot Justice was standing here.

  Tried to apologize by throwing my money at her when my behavior has been anything but excusable.

  “I ran into her at the bar the other night. Things didn’t go too well between us. And, little miss nosey, you’re right; she isn’t my type, which is probably why she left here pissed off,” I lie. Goddamn, it feels like a filthy lie. One I need to wash off my skin. Maria might be the opposite of other girls I’ve dated, but who’s to say she isn’t the right one for me?

  As much as I’d love to sit here and catch up, I want Justice to go home so I can figure out how to approach Maria without it blowing up in my face.

  “You look tired. I’ve been distracted. Please go home. Relax and enjoy your family.”

  I thought for sure Justice would be the next person waiting in line to chew my ass out. I was wrong. She’s never been the type of person to pry unless she fears something. If I can keep my excessive drinking hidden from her, then I’m going to. It’s the least I can do for all the fuckups I’m making.

  I’ve been wandering around like a lost sheep while she’s been busy with Liam and her daughter as well as picking up my slack.

  My gaze drifts to the glass. I lift it and place it where it belongs. Grab a few files that need my signature and pretend I’m reading, hoping she’ll take the hint and go.

  I love Justice; she’s like a sister to me, but I want her to go home and take care of her family. Besides, discussing these strange feelings inside of me or why I’m still thinking of the challenging, ruffled little temptress who tossed my money in my face while she stood there with her nipples poking through her shirt, her chest heaving as she told me off, is not happening.

  Maria’s fiery, brash approach when she shoved open my door and skewed her angry words all over caused an erection that still hasn’t deflated. I need Justice out of here, so I can stand up without having to hide the bulge in my pants and grab my laptop to do a search on the girl who has me twisted up.

  Christ, was she a vision of a hot, sticky mess. One I’d gladly lick and nip every part of until I reach the woman buried beneath all the innocence I’ve no doubt she possesses.

  Maria has no idea the things I want to do to her. I want to climb inside of her, find out who she is, what makes her happy or sad after I’ve fucked her so hard she isn’t able to walk around in those sexy boots because her legs can’t keep her up.

  I have never had these kinds of powerful thoughts about a woman in my life.

  “Do you like her?”

  Probably more than I should. “No.”

  The problem I have slams me in the face harder than my brother’s punch did. That hit hurt like a bitch. Knocked me on my ass as well as started my long, slippery road to try and help myself. A lot of good it did, though, when I took a swig because now I want more to give me the courage to seek out a woman who hates me, and that notion alone makes me sound like a fucking pussy. I’ve never been a man to not go after what I want, desire, or crave.

  My dad’s words echo in my head. The craving for alcohol is not the solution to my torment. Not sure if taking on Aidan and his quick response to throwing down is either, but this nagging feeling over Maria is a craving much stronger than the booze and fighting. And fuck all if I’m not ready to dive in headfirst and figure out why.

  “You’re full of shit. You like this girl, and you’re afraid. Do me a favor and go after her, Alex. Don’t make the same mistake I did.” Her eyes slope down to where my fingers are curled tightly around the edge of my desk. The pain from gripping tight to control my shakes is shooting up my arm. I welcome it. Dad’s words crawl out of the dark corners of my mind again. These ones sucker-punching me in the chest.

  It is all about the pain. I use it as a crutch; the liquor intensifies it on some days; on others, it leaves me drowning in my self-pity that I’ve lost all respect for others as well as myself.

  “This situation isn’t anything like you and Liam’s, and you know it.”

  “No, it isn’t. My point is, why would you let her go if you like her? If she cares about you at all, she’s going to look past everything, Alex. Fight for what you want instead of swallowing it down. I’m going to take you up on your offer and go home. I’m trusting you, Alex.”

  I breathe deeply and smile.

  Trusting me is an easy thing for her to say when she doesn’t know the truth of what’s eating me alive.

  “I’ll take care of everything. Now go.”

  After I walk her to the door, I pivot around quickly, grab my laptop along with the nearly melted ice bag my brother tossed at me, and type in her name. There’s nothing about Maria, but there’re several links, articles, and awards about the bed and breakfast and a few about the bar.

  “Damn.” I really don’t want to go back to that bar. The temptation of drowning in whiskey is one I need to avoid if I’m going to beat this before I drown.

  I’m suddenly uncomfortable in my seat, my dick hard just thinking about that sweet singing voice mixed with her sexy body.

  Before I can think about what I’m doing, I grab hold of myself through my dress pants. The pressure of my hand will have to do until I climb inside of all that delicious skin just begging me to sin. Unzipping my pants and freeing my straining cock, I grasp hold and hold back the moan as I begin to stroke. Visions of Maria and handfuls of her hair in my hands scatter across my brain. Her mouth on my cock, her tongue tasting me, has me jumping out of my seat, tilting my head back and running my hand up and down my shaft. Fuck, t
his feels good; it would feel a hell of a lot better if I were buried balls deep in her pussy or her tight, shapely ass. I shake my head, squeeze the head of my dick, and swirl the leakage down my shaft. The thought of being buried in all that hard exterior and soft, soft body, her mouth shooting off my name in pleasure instead of anger.

  I stifle my moan, keep my eyes trained on the door as I lose myself in the pleasure of release. It’s been a long time since I’ve gotten myself off, even longer since I’ve done it while sober. The relief starts to shake my legs, crawls up my spine, and taps out in my balls. I pump my hips forward, jerking and tugging on my cock. My balls are getting tighter. The angered veins in my neck catching hold of my throbbing pulse. One more long stroke, and I’m coming all over my hand, praying to God that the next time I come, it’s inside of her.

  6

  Maria

  The first week of school at Boise State is in the books. Even though it’s my third year of college, it felt like my first day of kindergarten all over again. The campus compared to the community college at home is overwhelming at best. This place is huge. It took me all week to figure out my routes and plan of attack navigating from class to class. A full twenty-one-credit semester is going to kick my ass. Regardless, I welcome it.

  My one saving grace is that I love web design almost as much as singing. The coding is soothing and the outcome always a cherished prize. I love building things from the base up, fixing the puzzle, and constructing something from my creative mind.

  My mom encouraged the idea after I brought it up because she knows all too well about how rough a singing career can be. Hell, if I get to sing at The Shade Tree and work my dream job during the day, I’d be one happy woman. I’m simple like that.

  “I’m sorry for leaving you so much, Dixie girl.” I bend over and pull my best friend to my chest.