“Now is when I’m supposed to say I’m sorry. I didn’t come over here for this…exactly. I meant to say I was sorry about before. I was an ass. I shouldn’t have…”
She reached up between them, pressing her fingers to his lips.
He caught her wrist and when she would have tugged away, he tightened his grip and sucked one finger into his mouth.
The blatant sensuality of it left her quivering.
“You didn’t do anything I hadn’t wanted you to do for a long time, Alex.” She forced the words out through stiff lips, the humiliation she’d felt that night—and for so many nights before that, coming to the fore.
“I…I know that.”
She blinked up at him and then looked away, feeling defeated.
He pulled her atop him, ignoring her attempts to resist and in the end, she just braced her arms against his chest and tucked her chin against his chest, staring at nothing.
“You’ve stared at me from the time you were a kid. All big eyes and long skinny legs. It used to make me miserable, because…” He blew out a breath that tickled the hair on her temple. “It didn’t seem right, my best friend’s baby sister watching me like that. So I ignored it. After a while I got used to it. Then it just became…I dunno…background noise.”
“Gee, thanks.” Ali tried to turn away, but he wouldn’t let her. When she continued to twist and squirm, he reversed their positions so that she ended up pinned under him, his hips driving her into the mattress.
“Keep it up, Ali-cat, and I’ll be inside you before we even finish this discussion,” he warned.
She jutted her chin up, glaring at him.
He bit her chin and then sucked on it lightly.
She clenched her hands into fists to keep from reaching for him.
Just looking at him made her heart stutter, but this…hurt. There he was, his dark brown eyes heavy with sleep, a half smile curving his mouth, morning stubble darkening his chin and upper lip, and he was talking about how he’d always known she’d loved him.
It had bothered him and then he’d just ignored it.
That love she’d nursed for him, the dreams that had been the one bright spot in her life—next to books—had amused him or aggravated him and then it had just become background noise.
And I still love him. The knowledge hit her hard and fast and she wanted to cry.
He’d shown up on her doorstep, given her that sexy, slow smile and she’d just spread her legs and given him exactly what he’d wanted.
She was still the same, pathetic twit she’d always been.
Closing her eyes, she averted her face. Defeated, she asked, “Why are you still here?”
Why are you so sad?
But Alex didn’t ask.
Instead, he rubbed his lips across hers and murmured, “Because you got inside my blood. You did something to me, Ali. Months, baby. I haven’t stopped thinking about you for months.”
He caught her lip between his teeth, tugged on it, sucked on it and when she shuddered, he let it go.
“I messed up before. Let me make it up to you.”
“Make what up?” She went from lying passive under to him to exploding, shoving against his chest and twisting.
He rolled away and she practically flew out of the bed. She grabbed something from the foot of the bed and he almost swallowed his tongue when she shoved her arms into what turned out to be a men’s dress shirt.
Then he could have sworn a blue streak.
That was his dress shirt.
Blood drained out of his head and down, down, down to his cock.
Now how and in the hell was he supposed to have a rational conversation?
She glared at him, shoving her tumbled her hair from her face and when he didn’t answer, she narrowed her eyes. “Well?”
Alex cleared his throat. He went to speak and his voice cracked.
So he cleared his throat—again—and tried to speak. Again.
But what came out wasn’t an answer to her question.
“That’s my shirt.”
Alison looked down. Then she went red. But all she did was shrug, and he couldn’t help but admire the sheer bravado it took for her to stare him in the eye. “Is it?” she asked.
She lied, too, straight through her teeth.
She knew damn well whose shirt it was.
She didn’t blink an eyelash and she didn’t look away.
But Alex spent his life dealing with liars and he knew when somebody wasn’t being honest.
Alison shrugged her shoulders. “I grabbed it from Mike’s house when I crashed over there one night. I assumed it was his.”
“That a fact?” Alex stared hard at her fingers as she rolled up one sleeve, then the other. She did it with quick, economical motions, the cuffs precise, almost as neat as if she’d measured them out with a ruler—on both sides. When she was done, she caught her hair out from under the collar and tugged it free.
That action lifted her small breasts and pressed them against the front of the shirt.
He wanted to catch one nipple, then the other in his mouth and tug on them, suck on them, bite them…
Alison sniffed. “Well, if you’re not going to answer my damn question, then would you mind leaving? I need to shower and get some errands done. I start my new job soon and I’ve been gone for almost two weeks. I have a million things—”
The rest of the words were crushed under his mouth. Backing her up against the bed, he trapped her between him and the solid length of wood that made up one of the posts.
Her hands shoved against his chest.
He stopped, but didn’t pull away.
Pressing his brow to hers, he said, “I’m still here because I can’t get you out of my head, Ali. You’ve been stuck inside there since that night back in February. I fucked it up then. Let me make it up to you.”
Heat flashed in her eyes, but it wasn’t from desire.
It was anger. Pure, deadly feminine anger.
There was little in the world Alex respected as much as a woman’s anger.
When she shoved him back this time, he went.
“Make it up to me,” she said, her voice mocking. “Make what up to me, Alex? The fact that you and I went at it like bunnies while we were both half asleep that night? We were both involved in that, so you don’t need to concern yourself there.”
“Ali—”
She slashed a hand through the air. “I’m not done!”
And she shouted.
Alex didn’t think he’d ever heard her shout.
Rocking back on his heels, he tucked his hands into his pockets and inclined his head, waiting.
“Now you were a bit of an ass—claiming fault when I was the one who woke up before you did. If anybody was at fault, it would probably be me.”
“What the—”
She stormed over to him. “I was the one who was awake, therefore I was more capable of giving consent. But you were the one apologizing? Because…why? I’m your best friend’s little sister? Because I was a virgin? Because you spanked me and I liked it? Or because you liked it?” she asked, drilling her finger into his chest.
Alex caught her wrist and yanked her up against him.
Then he shoved his hand into her hair.
“How about all of the above, sugar?” he asked, his mouth hovering a breath of hers.
She blinked.
“Well?”
Lowering his mouth to her ear, he said quietly, “I fucked my best friend’s little sister. I sank my cock into her without really being awake…and I spanked her. I enjoyed every last minute of it and it would be easier if I could have pretended to be drunk, or even asleep the whole time, but I was awake the second I had you wrapped around my cock. I was awake when I paddled your pretty ass and I was awake when I made you come. Not once, but twice. I was awake enough to know I shouldn’t be doing it and I was awake enough to know that I wanted to do it again…and again…and again…” He hiked her up.
She
glared at him, but that didn’t keep her from wrapped her legs around his hips and when he put her on the bed, she lay there, almost waiting.
“You think maybe I shouldn’t feel guilty.” He braced his hands beside her head, staring down at her.
“I’m a big girl, Alex.” She sneered at him.
Why did he find that so damn appealing?
He rolled his hips against her and the soft curls between her thighs teased the head of his cock. He’d never put his jeans on and the shirt she wore had ridden up to her waist.
“You are. But I’m an idiot sometimes. So you gotta bear with me.”
She gasped when he changed the angle of his hips so his cockhead bumped against her clit.
“I want to take you again.”
She opened her mouth.
He saw the want in her eyes, even if it was mingled with anger.
Anger was fine.
Angry sex wasn’t a bad thing.
But she shook her head at him.
“I….” Alison licked her lips. “I need to think, Alex.”
Think.
Alison banged her head against the door twenty minutes later.
He was gone.
She was still so turned on, she practically hurt.
Absently, she reached up and toyed with her necklace and turned to stare back down the hall to her bedroom.
She told him she wanted to think.
She’d been waiting for him for what felt like half her life and now she had him and she told him she wanted to think?
She’d lost her mind.
Moving back into her bedroom, she stood at the door and stared at the rumpled bed. A shiver went through her as she thought about what they’d done, how he’d touched her, how he’d held her.
“I fucked my best friend’s little sister. I sank my cock into her without really being awake…and I spanked her. I enjoyed every last minute of it and it would be easier if I could have pretended to be drunk, or even asleep the whole time, but I was awake the second I had you wrapped around my cock. I was awake when I paddled your pretty ass and I was awake when I made you come. Not once, but twice. I was awake enough to know I shouldn’t be doing it and I was awake enough to know that I wanted to do it again…and again…and again…”
So he liked having sex with her.
Alison had kind of noticed that.
He liked having sex with her.
But did he…was there anything else there?
She loved him.
She’d always loved him.
“Stop it,” she muttered. She had to stop thinking about this. Striding into the bathroom, she started to unbutton her shirt. It was Alex’s. She’d swiped it back when she’d still been living in the house her parents had left her and her brother. Alex had sometimes crashed with them and he’d left it there. She’d washed it for him and had gone to set it aside, then, in a fit of guilt and greed, she’d taken it. She’d worn it to sleep in so many times, his scent had long since faded, but she couldn’t bear to part with it.
Staring at her reflection as she slid it off her shoulders, she wondered what it was he saw when he looked at her.
She conjured up the memory of the startled look on his face when he’d met her at the baggage claim.
He hadn’t recognized her at first.
His eyes had slid over hers, a faint look of appreciation on his face, but he hadn’t known her.
She looked different enough, she knew. Stronger, thanks to the weights and workouts. She was still slim and if she got stressed and stopped eating—which happened—she’d go back to being too skinny. She’d never been anorexic, per se, but after her mother’s death, there had been days she’d go without eating. Her dad hadn’t noticed. But Mike had. So had Alex. If it wasn’t for them, she might have ended up in a lot of trouble.
Then her dad had died and she did get in trouble. She’d been in college by then, and it was harder for her brother and Alex to watch over her. There had been a time when she’d probably gone close to ten days without eating, only drinking when she thought to. It had nothing to do with body image—up until recently, Alison had no body image. But she’d been horribly depressed and just…uninterested. In everything.
She’d collapsed and the doctors at the hospital had suggested psychiatric counselling, possibly admitting her. But Mike had fought against it, said he’d take care of her.
He had.
But mostly, she’d realized what she was doing to herself.
These days, she always kept some sort of protein shake around the house and even if she wasn’t hungry, she made herself drink one. Some people thought that being skinny was the answer to happiness, but for somebody who had ended up in the hospital over her weight, she knew otherwise.
She looked good now, though. Strong and healthy and she was happy with herself.
Alex probably only wanted her because she looked better, she thought, brooding.
The glint of gold from Niall’s gift nestled in the hollow of her throat and she went to take it off, only to stop.
Leaning forward, she locked her eyes on the necklace.
But she wasn’t really seeing the necklace.
A man gave you this.
Biting her lip, she touched it.
I dreamed of that night for weeks. Months.
He’d been telling her something, Alison realized. Or maybe he had been. Maybe he didn’t know he was telling her something. Maybe it wasn’t there. She didn’t even know, to be honest.
But it was possible…wasn’t it?
“Huh.”
Chapter Ten
Alex rubbed his forehead and then read the text again.
The past week had been…insane.
He’d taken Alison Ryan out to dinner three times. He’d taken her home without touching her three times.
He’d asked her earlier if she’d like to go out tonight and he’d planned on…well. Something. In a few days, Mike would be home and Alex needed to figure out what exactly was going on before that happened.
But his plan to talk to Alison was getting derailed. By Alison. She hadn’t said yes. She’d told him she’d get back to him.
Well, she had.
But this…
Brooding, he read it again.
I’d like to pursue a sexual relationship with you, Alex. Clearly, I have unusual appetites and it’s probably best that I understand more about my needs and how things work before I start dating. How do you feel about this?
He felt ballistic about it. That was how he felt.
But what in the hell was he going to do? Tell her no, lose out on the chance to spend more time with her—and in her—and risk having her end up with another guy who’d make her smile like that prick back in Ireland had done?
And what if she ended up with some asshole? Somebody who hurt her? Somebody who didn’t care about her?
“Son of a bitch,” he muttered, shoving back from his desk.
“Hey, O’Malley!”
He looked up and saw the aggravated gaze of his lieutenant. “Sir?”
A few minutes later, he was also aggravated and now it had nothing to do with Alison. “That was a clean arrest!” he shouted, glaring at the DA and then rounding on the dick of a lawyer who sat adjusting the cuffs of a shirt that probably cost more than Alex made in a month. “Your client smashed in the head of his domestic partner of five years. This is his third offense and that son of a bitch put his latest victim in a coma. What’s he gotta do before anybody realizes he’s dangerous?”
“We’re recommending he participate in anger management classes.” The lawyer eyed Alex over the rims of his gold-framed glasses. “Perhaps you should take some as well.”
The lawyer’s name was Franklin Hobart and he made his living keeping very rich criminals out of jail.
Alex despised him.
“My anger is managed just fine when jack-ass lawyers don’t try to let rich scumbags out just because their daddies are friends with the governor.” Alex curled his li
p.
Hobart smiled. “My client is—”
“A rich scumbag,” the lieutenant said.
DA Katrina Summers held up her hands. “Boys…let’s play nice.” She smiled at Alex, at the lieutenant and nodded at Hobart. “Here’s how things play out. I agreed to the meeting with the lieutenant and the arresting officer—his partner is out of town.” She inclined her head. “If you’d given me more time before you made the trip over the bridge, I could have set this up at a better time.”
“My client is on a very restrictive house arrest.” Hobart held out his hands. “We’d like to make this go away.”
“I’m sure you would.” She gave him a sympathetic smile. Then she reached into her bag and pulled out some images. “Sadly, he’s already violated the conditions of his bail. I’ve got two men heading over with some of the boys with Louisville Metro to pick him up. He was seen buying drugs from a known dealer. We’ve already picked the dealer up.”
The DA paused and then said softly, “I can assure you, he will cooperate with us.”
“Perhaps.” Hobart gave a small, condescending smile. Then he lifted a brow. “But I’d like some more information on him.”
“Sure.” Summers looked at the folder she held and then glanced over the lieutenant. Her eyes came to Alex’s and lingered before she looked back at Hobart. “You see, we have a lot of information on this guy. We’ve been looking for him a long, long time.”
She tossed the file onto the table and Alex had a moment to notice just how fat that file was.
Then he saw the images.
He’d been smiling, because he knew the look in Summers’ eyes. It was a look that promised one thing—victory.
She’d brought him in here, let him get pissed, yeah. But she’d already known that their boy was nailed.
Now he understood why.
A face stared up at him and for a moment, Alex couldn’t even blink.
He’d spent months…no, years, trying to find this man.
Years.
“Does Mike know?” he asked softly, reaching out to pick up the image.
Hobart shot him a confused look.
He barely noticed.
Hobart—and that dickless wonder he called a client—they no longer mattered to him.
Wicked Wild Fantasies Page 8