Crave Me: An O'Brien Family Novel (The O'Brien Family Book 3)

by Cecy Robson

  “Don’t call me bossman.” He winks. “Unless we’re in bed.”

  His mouth immediately seizes mine, his tongue pushing through in one rough stroke. This isn’t our typical good night kiss. This kiss is more like the ones we sneak in his office when we’re alone, in between meetings when our hands wander and the thrill of getting caught heightens our senses. He palms my ass, the motion possessive and filled with masculine power.

  If I told him to stop, he would. But, just like the other day when I brought in his lunch and kissed him hello and he pulled me onto his lap, I don’t want him to stop. That doesn’t mean we shouldn’t.

  I pull away, my lips swelling from one hell of a kiss. I hold up my hand when he tries to follow. “Are you clean?”

  “What?” He waits, realizing what I’m asking. “Yes, you don’t have to worry about anything, beautiful.”

  “I’m clean, too,” I tell him. “And I’m on birth control. I don’t want to use a condom tonight unless you want to—”

  I barely get the last word out before he’s all over me again. “No condoms,” he says, speaking low against my ear as he tugs the lobe with his teeth. “I want to feel you completely when I’m inside of you.”

  Between the flicks of his tongue, that accent, and his comment I seriously almost orgasm. Somehow, I ease away. “Give me time to get ready for you, and I promise I’ll let you do anything you want to me.”

  The halogen lights of the parking deck bleach our faces, but don’t quite suppress the blush claiming his gorgeous face. “Anything?” he asks.

  I look at him dead in the eyes. “Anything,” I promise.

  I lean in for quick kiss. Well, at least I mean it to be quick. Evan deepens it, fusing our lips and pushing me against the side door. The hard bulge building in his pants ram me in the stomach, begging me to spread my legs.

  Holy shit. Every minute Sister Marguerite spent during health class, proselytizing about the sins of the flesh and burning in hell if we surrender to it, is wasted. Fire and brimstone is looking pretty damn good seeing as I’m seconds from having sex, standing up, in a Goddamn parking deck.

  He wrenches himself away when the double-doors leading toward the elevator fling open and a few staff members file out. My F-150 shields us, giving us time to compose ourselves, but just barely.

  “Good evening, Mr. Johan, Miss O’Brien,” they say at once.

  Evan nods politely from where he’s leaning over the hood of my ride with his hands clasped, appearing to pause in the middle of an intense conversation and not an intense moment.

  I’m leaning against the door with my arms crossed, nodding like I’m agreeing and not thinking about the giant erection ready to bust through his pants.

  He buries his hands through his hair as they step out of earshot. “You have no idea what you do to me,” he tells me.

  “You’re right,” I say, yanking open the door. “Why don’t we hop inside and you can show me.”

  He groans, dragging his hand down his face. “You’re forgetting the cameras,” he says, motioning to the one perched on the closest pillar. “Not that I did a better job of remembering.”

  “Oh, the cameras. Yeah.” I tug on his arm. “Why didn’t you remember? You’re supposed to be the reasonable one.”

  The dark and lustful look he pegs me with immediately erases my smile. “Any semblance of reason is lost the moment I touch you,” he tells me.

  “You’ve been reading that poetry shit again, haven’t you?”

  He laughs and pulls me to him, making me smile. Damn, I have it bad for him. “I’m not trying to seduce you.” I think about it. “Never mind, I am. But I know you have a company to save. So if you have to go, go. Just promise to make it up to me later.”

  “I promise,” he says, speaking as if he’s gifting his soul in that simple statement.

  My mouth is capable of three things: loud, louder, and non-stop. But nothing I say will carry as much emotion as I sensed in those two words, except maybe three words I’m not ready to tell him.

  I back away and slip into my truck. “Try not to be too long, okay?”

  “I’ll be with you soon,” he assures me.

  But it won’t be soon enough.

  It’s not until I pull out and round the corner that he heads back into the building. I let out a sigh, wondering exactly when I fell as hard as I have.

  The steering wheel slides along my fingers as I straighten my truck. With the exception of a few random cars, the three-level lot is almost completely empty.

  I wave to the security guard as he opens the heavy metal gate to let me out. Every evening at six, all entrances are sealed tight. Access in and out is only permitted following a thorough clearance by armed guards. But I won’t complain. I like feeling safe.

  Yet when I pull onto the main road that sense of security immediately vanishes.

  Last night, I left close to ten, something I do fairly frequently when I’m rushing to finish a project or brainstorming with Evan. Normally, it’s no big deal. But from the moment I left the building, I couldn’t shake the feeling I was being watched.

  I didn’t notice anyone tailing me and thought the lack of sleep was getting to me, until I turned onto my street. Finn jogged toward me when I pulled into our driveway and hopped out, having just completed his evening run. I started toward him when screeching tires had us looking up the block.

  “What was that?” I asked.

  “Some asshole in an old Jeep.” It’s what he claimed, but then he pressed his hand against my back, frowning as he led me inside.

  He didn’t have a good feeling, and neither did I. But when nothing else happened we brushed it aside.

  I was so busy today, I didn’t even bother mentioning it to Evan. But now . . .

  I switch on the radio when that awful sense returns. “Relax,” I say aloud, forcing myself to take a few breaths.

  The song finishes playing and the DJ announces more snow for the weekend when bright headlights flash across my rearview mirror, overtaking the expanse and closing in. I can’t make out the car. I only know it’s as big as my truck.

  I push on the gas, he follows, staying close enough to blind me with his lights and keep me from getting a make on the vehicle. I try to convince myself I’m just being paranoid—that it’s not Bryant. He doesn’t know where I work and—

  The car withdraws. It’s only then I start to breathe again.

  It’s not him . . .

  I shrug out of my coat when I realize how badly I’m sweating. What’s wrong with me? It’s only eight-thirty and this isn’t the first time I’ve been out after dark.

  I roll my shoulders, trying to shake the tension that remains when I just make the next light and think I’ve lost him. Two streets down, I make a right, but as I reach the next block those same damn headlights appear.

  Paranoid or not, I’m done. “Alfred, call Evan.”

  “Calling Evan, Wren,” Alfred announces.

  I almost smile. Evan had his tech heads install Alfred’s software in my ride shortly after I started working for him. They tailored it, and my new phone, to respond to my voice and needs.

  But the smile that wants to come dissolves when I change lanes and the car follows.

  The call goes to voicemail. “Evan is not available, Wren,” Alfred’s responds. “Leave message?”

  I don’t answer, too busy watching the car edge closer.

  “Wren is trying to call you, Evan,” Alfred answers, leaving a message for me.

  “Alfred, call Curran,” I say.

  The line rings twice, the car inching closer with each long, dragged out ring. It’s a black SUV, but that’s as much as I see.

  “Hey, Wren,” Curran says. “What’s going on?”

  The tightening in my chest makes it hard to speak. “I’m on my way home,” I manage.

  “Why are you calling?” he asks, picking up that something’s wrong.

  I slam on the brakes when the car in front of me stops at a l
ight. Shit!” I yell, my tires screeching. The SUV zips around and past me, cutting a hard right.

  “Wren?” Curran asks. “What the fuck’s going on?”

  I shake my head, pissed at myself for not being more careful. “I thought I was being followed.”

  “By Bryant?”

  “I don’t know,” I admit.

  “Did you get the make or a plate?”

  “No, I almost hit the car in front of me and he sped past me before I had a good look.”

  “But it was definitely a guy?”

  I stumble over my words. “I don’t know,” I say, wishing I’d been smarter. “All I saw were headlights closing in. But last night, I felt like I was being followed, too.”

  “By the same car?”

  The truck behind me blasts his horn when traffic moves ahead without me. I mutter a curse and stomp on the gas.

  “Wren?”

  “No. That one was an old model Jeep, dark green maybe a 2004. Finnie saw it, too.”

  “Why didn’t you call me?”

  God, it feels like I’m losing my mind. “Because I didn’t actually see it until I arrived home. But when I pulled out of work last night, just like tonight, it felt like I was being tailed.”

  “But you didn’t see exactly who it was?”

  “No.”

  “How long were followed?”

  My pulse is pounding so hard in my ears, I can barely think. “Last night, it felt like the whole ride home. Tonight, not long. A few blocks.” I glance at my mirrors. “Whoever he was is gone.”

  “You’re sure?”

  I take another look. “Yeah,” I mutter. “Christ, I just want to get home.”

  “Finnie won’t be there,” he reminds me. “He left for the press tour this morning.”

  “I know. Sol, Kill, and Sofia are with him.” Of course, they just happen to be the ones who live the closest and won’t be home for another week.

  When Curran doesn’t say anything, I start hoping he’ll tell me that it’s probably nothing.

  “I’m sorry I bothered you,” I say as the silence stretches between us. “Give Fiona a kiss from me and—”

  “Where are you?” he asks, his voice gruff.

  “Curran, it’s no big deal,” I tell him, sensing his anger. “If anything I feel like a dumbass for calling you.”

  “You’re not dumbass,” he says. “Look, I’ve been a cop long enough to know to follow my instincts. If something inside you is telling you something is wrong, then something probably is. Where are you?”

  “On Walnut Street, approaching the Forest Theatre.”

  “Okay,” he says, shuffling in the background. “Pull over and stop at Anthony’s or Mulligan’s. I’ll meet you there and follow you home.”

  Almost at once, Fiona starts crying in the background, something she does every time she sees her daddy getting ready to leave. “Curran, don’t. You’re upsetting the baby over nothing.”

  “Shhh. It’s okay,” he says to her.

  I can almost picture him gathering her little body into his arms. “Curran, Evan is meeting me at the house as soon as he’s done at work.”

  “But he’s not there now,” he says, cutting me off as his daughter settles. “You still have at least another twenty before you’re home and anything can happen between now and then.”

  I roll to a stop at a light. “But it’s going to take you at least forty minutes to get to me and another two hours before you’re back to your family—all because I’m seeing things that aren’t there.”

  “Bryant’s missing,” he tells me.

  “What?”

  The car behind me blasts his horn when the light turns green and I don’t immediately shoot forward. I flip him off and punch it, listening closely to what Curran says.

  “We’ve been keeping an eye on him, but now we can’t find him.”

  “Shit,” I mutter.

  “Wren, do you hear yourself? How upset you sound? Pull over and I’ll leave now.”

  Fiona starts whimpering all over again. But even if she wasn’t so upset, I’m not taking Curran away from his family.

  “No,” I say. “There’s no one behind me.” That’s a lie. The same asshole who honked at me is still there, but he makes a left at the next block.

  “Tess, can you take you take her a sec?” What sounds like heavy steps race forward. “At least let me send a badge who’s close your location.”

  I mutter a curse, checking my mirrors again when I reach the next light. “What are you going to tell him? My little sister thinks she’s being stalked?”

  “Yup,” he answers, the edge to his tone tightening the knot in my chest.

  “But it’s not true,” I say, more because I need to believe it. “I haven’t even heard from him.”

  “That doesn’t mean you won’t.” He huffs when I quiet. “Look, just like your instincts warned you that something was wrong, mine are telling me Bryant is fucking with you. There’s too many dots connecting him to you and I don’t like it.”

  “I don’t like it either,” I admit.

  A door swings open at the corner store. Two people stumble out, laughing and acting drunk. “Does Evan know about Bryant?”

  “Yes, I—”

  I jump when the high-tech Bluetooth rings and Alfred’s techno voice streams through. “Evan is returning your call. Should I put Curran on hold?”

  “Curran, hold on. Evan’s calling. Yes, Alfred.”

  I start to correct myself and give the full command, “Yes, Alfred, hold Curran and answer Evan,” but Alfred is already on it.

  “Hi, are you home?” Evan asks, sounding confused.

  He knows it’s thirty-five minutes back to my place, and it hasn’t been that long since I left him. “No,” I say. “Are you on your way?”

  “Soon, I have a few projects to sign off on and was delayed when the lab called with issues surrounding the new Mechanicus prototype.”

  “Sorry,” I say. “I didn’t mean to interrupt your work.”

  He pauses. “What’s wrong?”

  I tried keeping my tone even, but there’s no hiding my frustration. “It’s probably nothing.”

  “Then tell me,” he says, his voice sharpening with concern.

  I groan when traffic slows to a stop ahead of me. There’s been an accident or something, delaying me even more. On the plus side, it gives me more than enough time to tell Evan everything I told Curran.

  When I finish, he doesn’t hesitate. “You’re spending the night at my house,” he says.

  “Wait, I can’t—”

  “Yes, you can. Alfred, show Wren to my residence straight away.”

  “Initiating shortest route,” Alfred says.

  My navigation screen flashes, honing in on the surrounding area and spiraling out like some futuristic satellite. “Whoa, slow down there, Alfred.”

  “Shortest route initiated,” Alfred answers, totally ignoring me and taking Evan’s side. “At the next block, make a left on North 10th Street, travel three blocks, and make a left onto Vine Street toward the Vine Street Expressway.”

  I mumble a few swears, but make the left Alfred suggests.

  “Alfred, shut down my office,” Evan’s voice booms.

  “Shutting down office,” Alfred repeats.

  The sound of shuffling papers increases with Evan’s words. “Alfred, protect Wren and see her inside my residence.”

  “Protecting, Wren,” he repeats.

  I stare blankly as an infrared netting flares out from the screen, onto the dash, and across the cabin. “Uh. What did you just do?” I ask.

  “I’m protecting you,” Evan says, like it’s obvious.

  A small light flashes on above my rearview mirror, extending the bright red, crisscrossing a pattern of lights across the hood. “Evan, what the hell did your Geek Gang do to my truck?”

  “Installed Alfred into your vehicle,” he responds, appearing to move fast. “We discussed this, they applied our protection and
intelligence to fit your needs.”

  “I’m not carrying the Hope diamond,” I remind him. “You’ll see for yourself when I strip down to my panties.”

  “I’m only assuring your safety so I can help you out of those panties.”

  “Wren secure,” Alfred says, oblivious to the surge of blood now thumping my nether regions.

  A 9-1-1 icon appears on the corner of the navigation screen, blinking as if readying to dial. “Is a bazooka going to pop out of my dash?” I ask.

  “No, a machine gun,” he responds, not missing a beat. “It carries more rounds and is easier to manipulate.”

  I only hope he’s joking. “About your tech team,” I begin.

  “Yes?”

  “They’re all virgins aren’t they?”

  His tone drops an octave. “Perhaps, but I’m not.”

  “No, you’re not, big boy.” I glance around as the infrared lights dissolve into the vehicle. I think I read that if the software senses a crash, the police are alerted. “Okay,” I say slowly. “All this Robo Cop tech is fascinating and all, but if Darth Vader pops up in my passenger seat and starts swinging his light saber, I’m going to freak out. This is a little much, don’t you think?”

  “No,” he rumbles. The ding in the background alerts me Evan is at the elevator. “It took me years to find you and I’ll be damned if I allow some manky bastard to harm you.”

  This is the part where the Wren who busts heads and kicks ass interrupts and tells Evan that she’s fine, that she doesn’t need protecting, and that he’s coming to her. But that Wren is too busy laughing at the Wren melting into a pile of goo with sizzling lady parts. “You’re all sorts of hot right now, you know that, bossman?”

  His voice drips with sex. “I told you, there’s only one place you can call me bossman.”

  “I know,” I whisper, my body heating another notch.

  “You’ll be safe and in my arms soon. I swear it.”

  He releases a breath, appearing to fumble with something. “According to Alfred’s message on my phone, you’ll arrive at my house twenty minutes before I do. He’ll allow you in and secure you inside. Make yourself at home. Should anything happen, Alfred will alert both me and the police.”

  “Okay,” I say, well-aware of my quivering tone.