Wrecked (Axle Alley Vipers)

by Sherilee Gray

  After a few more minutes hosing herself down, she turned off the water and headed back to the front of the house.

  I will make you give in, Cole Black. I’ll do whatever it takes. Just you watch me.

  Then, before she could stop herself, she turned toward the apartment above the garage— and sucked in a startled breath.

  Because he was watching her. Arctic blue eyes watched her from the kitchen window.

  Without even realizing it, she’d won the first round.

  She smiled to herself.

  Let the games begin.

  Chapter Six

  Cole moved to his kitchen window and froze, hands gripping the edge of the bench hard enough to make the Formica groan. Piper stood in her yard, garden hose turned on, aiming the jet of water at herself.

  But if you want me, for anything, you know where I am.

  “Shit.” Had she really meant what he thought she did? Or was she thinking more along the lines of a neighborly cup of sugar? Fuck. He couldn’t allow himself to believe it. Believe that shy, sexy, little Piper West—the woman of his dreams—had just invited him into her bed. His head might actually explode if he did.

  He swallowed hard, gaze following the water’s trajectory. The way it sluiced over her neck and shoulders, her arms, soaking into her shirt and shorts, gathering at the apex of her thighs and down her legs, making her skin glisten.

  Not just my goddamn head.

  Groaning, he licked his lips, like he already had her salty, sweet taste on his tongue.

  Jesus.

  Was she doing it on purpose? Was she trying to kill him? Because that’s what it felt like. His heart smacked around in his chest so damn fast, so hard, the possibility of having a heart attack wasn’t out of the realm of possibility. And his dick…shit. He’d never been so hard.

  Was that…

  Motherfucker.

  Even from this distance, he could see her nipples pebbled and hard, straining against her tank as the cool water ran over her. He wanted to peel her wet clothes off, lick every inch of her smooth skin. See if she was wet anywhere else. See more than the tops of those succulent little nipples.

  Finally, she turned off the hose and dropped it to the ground. Gripping the front of her shirt she wrung out the excess water, giving him an enticing glimpse of her smooth, rounded belly. She was walking back to the front of her house when she turned toward him, eyes locking with his.

  “Goddammit.” He needed to move away from the window, now, but he couldn’t tear his gaze from her. He stayed where he was, watching until she disappeared into her house.

  ...

  This was how the first week in his new apartment began. The week from hell. A week he aptly dubbed: Operation Piper fucks with Cole until he loses his goddamn mind.

  Sunday – 11:16 a.m.

  Cole sat back on the couch, feet up on the coffee table, and took a long pull of his beer, draining it. The game hit halftime so he climbed to his feet to get a refill. Grabbing one from the fridge, he twisted off the top.

  The bottle was halfway to his mouth when music started up. Loud music.

  He shook his head and stared at his feet.

  Don’t do it. Do not look. Walk away. Walk away now.

  The sound of Piper singing, loudly, drifted up to him, and before he knew what he was doing, he was at the kitchen sink, staring down at her. A growl rumbled from his chest, and he cursed repeatedly. The woman was barefoot, wearing pink cutoffs and a bikini top—a fucking bikini top—the scrap of orange fabric barely covered her lush tits. She was practically naked. Bucket in hand, she headed to her bright pink Corvette parked on the front lawn, and to his horror and voyeuristic delight, started soaping up its shiny surface, like she was in some eighties rock video. Suds and water somehow ended up all over her. Her arms, her soft, rounded stomach, her breasts…breasts that had the ability to make a grown man cry. In fact, he thought he was pretty close to shedding a few tears himself.

  He followed the bubbles as they slid over her stomach and her shapely thighs. “Jesus Christ.” He slammed down the bottle in his hand, causing it to foam up and overflow all over the bench. Closing his eyes, he prayed for salvation.

  None came.

  Forcing himself away from the window, he parked his ass back on the couch and tried to watch the rest of the game.

  He had no idea who won.

  Tuesday – 6:05 p.m.

  Shoving his car door open, Cole headed for the stairs. He’d forgotten his workout gear when he left for work that morning, and if he missed a session at the gym his leg tended to act up, getting stiff, or at least stiffer than usual. He hit the first step when his phone rang.

  Deke.

  He put it to his ear. “Yeah.”

  “Hey, can you do me a favor?”

  He’d learned in the last few days he didn’t care much for Deke’s favors, not one goddamn bit. “What’s up?”

  “I’ve been trying to call Pipe for the last hour. She left me a message, but now she’s not answering. Do you mind heading over to check on her?”

  Yes, I fucking mind. He choked down his refusal and tightened his fingers around the phone. “Sure.”

  “Thanks.”

  They disconnected, and Cole headed across the parking lot toward Piper’s cottage. Her car was parked out front, so she had to be home. He knocked on the front door, but no one answered, so he walked around the side of the house to the backyard.

  That’s where he found her. She was lying on a lounger, shades on, book loose in her fingers at her side. Head tilted, soft blond hair around her face and shoulders.

  “Pipe?”

  She didn’t answer, and he realized she was out cold, fast asleep.

  Jesus.

  Fucking beautiful.

  He glanced around the backyard, and his gut tightened. For some reason, when he’d envisioned his future with Piper, a future she had no idea he’d wanted with her, he’d seen them here, in this cottage together.

  His gaze moved over her, and he gritted his teeth. He’d imagined hot nights, holding her in his arms, kissing her whenever he damn well wanted to. Of one day watching her belly grow round with his baby inside her. A swing set back here for their kids.

  Shit. He needed to stop this.

  But he couldn’t take his eyes off her. She tempted him, pushed him beyond all reason. She had on a green sundress, and while she’d slept it had twisted around her waist and hips, lifting high enough that he could see her orange lace panties. Just a tiny glimpse, but enough he got an unobscured view of how they hugged her, the outline of her sexy little slit. Even through the fabric he could tell she was completely smooth there.

  His mouth went bone dry.

  The urge to crouch down and lift her dress higher to get a better look was almost too hard to resist. He ate her up with his eyes—greedily, hungrily, like a starving man. That’s when he spotted something on her upper thigh, vibrant red and green ink, just a sliver of it showing.

  Piper had a tattoo.

  Something about that twisted him damn near inside out, pushed him past reason, and the next thing he knew, he was grazing her silky smooth skin with the tip of his finger, tracing what he realized was the base of some kind of flower.

  Piper moaned, and he pulled his hand back, jarred from his lust fog, and shot to his feet.

  Her head rolled toward him, and a second later she scrambled to a sitting position, shoving her shades to the top of her head. She blinked up at him several times. “Cole?”

  Shit, he’d always wondered what she’d look like when she woke first thing in the morning, all sleep rumpled and warm, all soft and pliant.

  Lock it down.

  “Your brother’s been trying to call you.”

  She opened her mouth to say something, but he turned away and got the hell out of there—befor
e he did something he could never take back.

  Wednesday – 8:30 p.m.

  Dropping his gym bag, Cole slid his key in the door. But the sound of a car door closing had him turning around and looking out at the street below. A guy climbed out of his car and, straightening his tie, headed toward the cottage. Cole watched him cup a hand around his mouth and discreetly sniff. Breath check. Which could only mean one thing. He was here to take Piper out.

  A date.

  Jogging up the cottage steps, the guy knocked on the door. Cole turned fully, unable to look away. The door opened a minute later, and Piper stepped out, a smile beaming from her beautiful face. Her dress was blue and stopped just above the knees. It hugged her curves to perfection, and he didn’t need to be standing in front of her to know her eyes would glow against the color. He could see the guy’s face redden all the way from across the lot. He could also see the way the fucker’s trousers tented at the front.

  With a growl, he took the first step, heading back down—then slammed on the brakes.

  Gripping the railing, he made himself stay where he was. Hung the fuck on so he didn’t go down there and make a complete asshole of himself.

  What the hell did he think he was doing? He had no right to go over there. What would he even say?

  He watched as the other man placed a hand at the small of Piper’s back. Every muscle in Cole’s body turned to stone as he led her to his car.

  Before Piper climbed in, she looked his way. When she spotted him standing there, her smile widened. She pointed at her date’s back as the guy walked around to his side of the car, then placing a hand over her heart, did a silly, sexy little jiggle, an I’m-so-excited-for-my-date happy dance.

  Excited wasn’t what he was feeling in that moment. And he sure as fuck didn’t feel like dancing.

  A minute later, they were gone.

  Cole forced himself to go inside. He decided if the guy touched her when he dropped her off later, he’d be living the rest of his life without hands.

  Chapter Seven

  Trapped.

  The smell of gasoline. Toxic fumes. Sirens wailing in the distance. Screams of people he couldn’t see.

  Something warm dripped into his eyes. Throat raw and burning.

  A groan.

  He turned to Adam…

  No. Please, God, no.

  Bang, bang, bang…

  Something smashed through the car’s rear window.

  Cole rolled to his back, eyes flying open.

  The banging in his head continued, but the sound became distorted, morphing into a boom, boom, boom.

  An incessant thump of a bass beat, rattling his apartment windows.

  Rubbing his hands over his face, he let out a shuddering breath and worked at shaking off the confusion, the fear. He was coated in cold sweat, shivering. The sensation of being trapped still with him.

  Shoving back the sheet, he sat up. His body was covered in reminders of that day, scars that told the story of all he’d endured. His left leg was more scar tissue than healthy skin. His vocal cords irreparably damaged. He’d never be the same again.

  Sometimes he wished he’d lost the leg completely. Maybe it would’ve helped with the guilt, the guilt that he’d survived when Adam hadn’t been so lucky.

  Holding his knee, he maneuvered his leg from the bed. It was stiffer in the mornings, ached like a bitch, too. A constant reminder of what he’d done. He’d allowed emotion to take over, and because of that he’d made a phenomenally bad judgment call. All it had taken was a split second’s loss of concentration, and he’d caused the death of a good man.

  Like he could ever forget.

  The noise coming from outside got louder. He tagged his jeans from the floor, yanking them on, and limped to the kitchen window.

  And immediately wished he hadn’t.

  The music was coming from Piper’s, of course. The woman loved music, always had, and she liked it loud. All the doors and windows were open so she could hear it outside. The sun was up, the heat of another day already making itself known, lighting up her pale blond hair like a halo.

  Piper stood on a chair, painting the window trim of her cottage. She had on shorts that were near indecent. The smooth pale skin of her thighs making him think of squeezing them in his hands, of spreading them, wrapping them around his waist. The top she wore clung to her, and when she lifted her arms to reach a higher section, her full breasts lifted as well, swaying and bouncing as she moved. The woman was either not wearing a bra or one that struggled to hold all that she had going on.

  Piper’s breasts had taken a starring role in more than a few of his fantasies. What would they feel like overflowing in his hands? Would her nipples be brown or pink? Would they turn cherry red after he’d sucked and nipped them, until she was writhing beneath him, begging for his tongue, his cock?

  The song changed, and she did a little dance, shaking her round ass, and he bit back a curse. Couldn’t she stay in her house for one damn day? When she wasn’t working, she was outside, parading around her backyard in next to nothing.

  A car full of young guys drove past, and they honked and hollered out the window at her. Piper just shook her head and carried on painting. The car did a U-turn, and when they drove past again, they slowed right down, and the comments fired out the window were a lot more suggestive.

  Before he knew what he was doing, he had the door open and was halfway down the stairs. He limped across the parking lot, the asphalt hot beneath his bare feet, the sun heating the skin of his shoulders and back. He hadn’t even put a shirt on, but right then didn’t care. He ignored it all, couldn’t think straight. He sure as hell couldn’t take much more of this.

  He was close to breaking point. Pushed to the brink by flimsy, pink satin nighties, orange lace panties, short shorts, and tiny goddamn bikini tops. He was this close to dragging her into her girly pink bedroom and fucking her into the mattress.

  What am I doing?

  The car full of guys had gone, but he was still moving forward. He needed to turn around and go back inside.

  But he couldn’t do it.

  He had to get close to her, had to be close to her. He was suddenly desperate for just a hint of her strawberry scent—the body wash or shampoo she used, mixed with Piper’s own unique sweetness. Whatever it was, it was fucking addictive. He needed a close-up look at those full lips, needed to feel those soft blue eyes on him.

  Needed to hear her voice, her laugh. He just needed her.

  He didn’t stop until he was standing right behind her, her succulent ass almost at eye level. An ass that was out for the whole damn world to see.

  “What the fuck are you doing?” he growled before he could stop himself, before he could tame the anger, the hunger, the frustration that came through loud and clear in his broken voice.

  He felt like an animal, and right then he was fucking ravenous.

  She squeaked, wobbled on the chair, reached for the window frame, missed, lost her balance, and tumbled back. He reached out, catching her before she hit the ground. Her breasts smashed against his chest, fingernails digging into his bare shoulders, making him groan.

  No bra. Just thin fabric between his bare chest and hers. “Jesus, Piper.”

  She stared up at him, eyes wide, stunned, then she snapped out of it and slapped his shoulder. “Don’t sneak up on me like that.”

  “That chair’s not stable. You could have broken your damn neck.” She still hadn’t let him go, and he struggled to breathe evenly.

  Her eyes dropped to his mouth. “Whose fault is that?”

  He tightened his arms, pulling her in closer. His cock, which was already hard, got even harder when he felt her nipples stiffen, grazing his chest. Jesus. He tilted his hips back. The last thing she wanted was some sad cripple getting hard again while she was pressed up against him.


  “You’re drawing a crowd. Maybe you should cover yourself up, yeah?” The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them. She shoved at his chest, but he couldn’t bring himself to let her go.

  Her cheeks turned pink, eyes flashing. “Hardly a crowd. It was one car, Cole. And I can’t see how the way I dress would affect you.” She scowled. “Besides, I thought you’d still be asleep.”

  “I was asleep, until you started blasting music loud enough to rattle the windows.” What was he doing? Let her go. Walk away. “Shouldn’t you be working in the garage?” Where you’re mostly covered up and your delectable body isn’t on display for any asshole to see.

  She shrugged, which smooshed her tits harder against his chest. “We decided to have a weekend off.”

  She clung to his shoulders, and it felt good, too damn good. It would be so easy to wrap her legs around his waist and press her against the side of the house. Take that pouty mouth and fucking devour it.

  He reluctantly let her go. It was either that or come across as even more of a pervert than he already was where Piper was concerned. Of course that only made things worse. The sudden movement caused her nipples to drag down his chest. The soft heat of her body lingering, as though she’d branded him. He watched her, fighting an internal battle to keep his hands to himself. Her taste, her smell had been etched into his senses, and he wanted more. Jesus, he was hard, and so wound up he was on the verge of splintering apart.

  She stumbled back a step and lifted a hand to her blond hair, which she’d piled on her head in a messy bun, and brushed the loose strands back from her face. She stared at his chest for a few beats, no doubt horrified by the scars marking his body.

  He waited for her to look up, waited to see the disgust, the pity on her face, stiffening when she lifted her heart-shaped face to his, bracing for what was coming. But there was no pity, no disgust when she looked at him. No, there was something else entirely. Her cheeks were flushed, lips a darker shade of pink than usual. And when she bit down on the lower one, forcing the top one to puff out in a way that was extremely sexy—he wanted desperately to pull her back into his arms and suck on it. But it was her eyes that got to him most, they were bright and…fuck…hungry.