My T-shirt was up and over my head then tossed to the floor. I reached for Brando's shirt and helped him tug it off. His warm, bare chest rubbed against mine as he pressed kisses along my neck and across my collarbone. We lay there, our bare chests touching, as I slid my hands up his back and over his shoulder blades. Nothing else in the world existed for me except the way his skin felt beneath my palms, the smell of his hair and the sweet taste of his tongue. When his hand slipped down my lower belly and into my panties, I thought I would lose it for sure.
"Ah." I gasped softly as his fingers found my wetness and touched my most sensitive place. I panted with each gentle stroke, digging my heels into the soft mattress. He entered me with his middle finger, and I moaned in his ear. As his thumb rubbed against my clit, I arched my pelvis toward him. It felt so good. So right. As if he understood my body.
"God, Carina." Brando groaned against my neck, his voice sounding strained. "I love the way your body comes alive when I touch you. I want you so much." He lowered his face to my breasts and pulled one of my nipples between his teeth. I gasped as he sucked hard on each tight peak. Pleasure radiated through my body and gathered between my legs. Even through his jeans he felt hard as a rock as he rubbed himself against my inner thigh. I had been fantasizing about him for so long and reliving our first night together. I never dreamed that the second time could be so much hotter.
"Brandon," I whispered. His full name sounded so much more natural in the moment. My fingers caressed the back of his head, my hips desperately following the movement of his hand. I was so close to coming that I didn't know how much longer I could control myself. "Please. I need..." I begged.
Brando lifted his head and looked at my face. "Shit." He removed his hand from my panties. "Don't you dare come without me." Then suddenly he was gone.
I lay there alone, topless and writhing in the agony of unspent pleasure as Brando hurried around the room, searching through discarded clothes on the floor, and swearing under his breath the whole time. Just when I thought I might have to finish myself off, he was back. He had already removed his jeans and was standing in front of me, naked in all his glory and rolling a condom over the length of his rock-hard erection. I'd just finished kicking off my panties when he positioned himself between my parted thighs.
"You're so beautiful, Carina. So perfect," he whispered, then covered my mouth with his. My fingers skimmed the hardness of his chest, down the taut ridges of his abs, then followed the soft trail of hair that began at his lower stomach. He hissed when the back of my hand brushed the tip of his hardness. I wanted him so badly that it felt like my insides would explode if I didn't find release soon.
"Brandon, please," I whimpered, the need in my voice clear, "I want you inside me."
"Yes, baby." He lined himself up with my opening and slowly slid inside.
"Ahh." We sighed in unison, overcome with the pleasure of being connected.
My head rolled back as I spread myself wide, wanting him to reach the deepest part of me. When he hit the spot where I needed him most, my cry was so guttural that it didn't sound like me.
"Brandon." I gasped, rocking my hips in time with his thrusts. Suddenly he went still.
"Ah, fuck," he groaned softly. "Carina, you feel so..." His lids were heavy with passion, his eyes ablaze with raw desire. Slowly, he moved back and forth. "I wanted this to be longer, but you feel...so...good...baby...fuck...I can't hold it."
His rhythm increased as he slid in and out of my slick wetness, sending me directly to the edge. I tried my best to hold on, not wanting to tumble over just yet. I wanted to enjoy the feel of him and the way he filled me completely. To see the raw need on his face and know it was me he craved. As hard as I tried, I couldn't stop myself from coming. I put my hands on either side of his hips, encouraging him to thrust deeply. An intense orgasm took over my body, and I screamed my release so loud I was sure the rest of the people in the apartment could hear. Maybe I even wanted them to. Somewhere in my haze of pleasure, I heard Brando's low, muffled groans. I watched his lips part, his eyes glaze over in ecstasy, and just like that my inner muscles pulsed hard around him as I came a second time.
When I opened my eyes, Brando was staring down at me. His face relaxed, his eyes were soft and sleepy.
I gave him a slow, lazy smile as he placed a tender kiss on my mouth before sliding out of me. He got up to discard the condom while I sat back against the headboard, pushing my hair away from my face. I was searching the floor for my T-shirt when Brando returned to the bed.
"Leave it." He sat down, lifted my wrist, and darkened his name with a pen. After he was done, he positioned us so we were lying with my head on his chest, then covered us with a blanket.
We lay there in silence for a while. The only sound was the low hum of music and occasional hoots of laughter from the party outside. I was just drifting off to sleep when Brando spoke.
"Let me decide what I can handle. Okay?" I lifted my head so I could see his face. The moment had been so perfect I didn't want to ruin it. He made it hard to deny him anything. Except, I couldn't get him involved. It was too risky. Instead, I did something I loathed. I lied.
"Okay," I whispered. Brando's smile cracked my heart right down the middle, leaving an ugly jagged scar behind. I couldn't bear looking into those eyes knowing what a piece of shit I was, so I kissed him. His lids fluttered closed as his arms tightened around me. I wanted my touch to convey the feelings I could never say in words. It was impossible to be his when my future was controlled by another man.
The next morning I'd changed back into my clothes and followed Brando from his room. The apartment had crap scattered everywhere. Beer cans and plastic cups sat on every surface. Several pizza boxes were sitting on the kitchen counter, and the remains of marijuana smoke still wafted through the house. We were almost to the front door when a voice called from the living room.
"Yo," a man rasped, followed by a series of coughs. "Yo," he repeated and shuffled from the dimly lit room into the foyer. "I didn't know you were here...oh." The man stopped speaking when he saw me. He was tall and thin, almost gaunt. His dirty blond hair was long and stopped just above his shoulders. His face had the haggard look of a man who drank too much and ate too little. He was also the loud, mouth guy at Harley's party.
"Todd." Brando was the first to speak. "This is—"
"Carina Risto," Todd interrupted. "Yeah, I know who she is." He didn't offer how he knew that information.
"You're Showtime," I added, suddenly able to place his face. What I knew about the racing world could fit in a thimble. My brother, Jamie, told me once that after a racer had proven their skills and made the top ten list, they were worthy of a name. They didn't choose them, their racing peers did. It was an honor and a show of respect. Todd had been given a name, which meant he was good.
"That's me," he answered, his bloodshot eyes narrowing as he studied me a little longer. "Where are you headed?" he asked, his attention going back to Brando.
"I'm going to take her home and then go by the shop."
"Cool, man," Todd replied with a yawn.
"You and I are going to talk about that party last night."
"Dude"—Todd started back to the living room—"stop being so paranoid," he called over his shoulder before he flopped back down on the couch.
****
Brando drove me to my place, a little studio apartment above the restaurant. He put the car in park, and I pulled open the handle to get out.
"Carina." He reached over and gently grabbed my hand. He didn't even have to say anything more. The look in his eyes told me he needed answers.
"Brando, please. Let me sort my shit out first." I tugged my hand back, and he released me.
"When can I see you again?" His voice was calm, but his jaw ticked as if he were trying to control his frustration. I hated that I was doing that to him. The island was small. I knew it would be impossible to avoid each other. The thought of never seeing him again hurt more
than I was prepared to admit.
"You know where to find me," I replied, then got out of the car. "Thanks for coming to my rescue last night."
"You kind of rescued me, too." Brando smiled briefly, though his eyes remained a little sad. I got out and gave a floppy wave as I shut the door.
I watched him drive off, wondering what he'd meant when he said I'd rescued him, too.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Brando
Women. The ultimate enigma. The suckers of souls. The killers of confidence.
I didn't know how long I'd been driving. I just had to clear my head, or maybe I needed to locate my balls. I'd never allowed myself to be tied into knots over a girl before.
I knew the day I walked into Annette's Catch and laid eyes on the new girl, that she was different. When Carina came to my table, her eyes stayed on the floor while she spoke. It was strange that she wouldn't look directly at me. I didn't know why not making eye contact with her bothered me, but it did. Suddenly every detail about her became important. Her legs were long and slender, so it made the shorts she worked in seem extra short. Her red hair was pulled into a bun that looked loose enough to fall apart after a hard shake, and I spent the entire time wishing it would. She also never smiled. Ever. Nothing would have pleased me more than to see her look at me and smile.
But I should have known better. She was a Risto.
It was impossible to be involved in the street racing game and not know the name Ritchie Risto. The founder of the Carolina Crew. I wasn't a racer and never wanted to be. I had a hard enough time just being the younger brother of Mack King. Expectations were too high. I chose a different path and became a tattoo artist. I didn't know the first thing about carburetors and Mack couldn't draw for shit. It was just safer that way.
I wanted to get off the island, maybe spend a couple of days in Key City at my brother's, but it was well after midnight, and the ferry back to the mainland was no longer running. I made a call to Todd and was relieved when he picked up.
"Hey, man. Please tell me I'm not going to find a house full of people when I get there?"
"Oh, I thought for sure you'd be with what's her face." Todd knew her name, and for some reason, it bothered me that he pretended to forget.
"No," I said through clenched teeth.
"Struck out, huh?" Todd chuckled, and I wanted to smash his face in.
"Steph is here, but she's going to be leaving soon...Ouch, I'm just sayin', babe...shit, will you quit it?" His voice grew muffled as he spoke to someone in the background, presumably Steph. "Bring some beer, bro," he said before he hung up.
Fifteen minutes later, I was pulling into the condo parking lot. Among those who had warned me against getting involved with a Risto, Todd had been the first. I wasn't from the island, but Todd had been born and raised there, so he knew everything about everyone. The last thing I wanted to hear was I told you so.
Slowly, I got out of my car and trudged up the sidewalk that led to the front porch. The ocean crashed behind the building, and a bell clanged its familiar tune in the distance. Just as I reached for the handle, the door swung open, and a woman came rushing out, her shoulder slamming into mine as she passed.
"Sorry—" I started an apology, but she cut me off.
"Fuck off," she yelled over her shoulder without stopping, striding down the walkway barefoot, high heels dangling in her hands. Confused, I went inside to look for Todd. The place was trashed, as usual, and the lights were dim. I made my way down the foyer and nearly tripped over a Frisbee that was lying in the middle of the floor. I rounded the corner to the living room and found Todd sitting on the couch with his head tilted back and snoring.
"Todd," I shouted, then tossed the Frisbee at his chest. "What's wrong with Stephanie?"
"Huh?" He sat up, rubbed his face, and looked around.
"What's wrong with Stephanie?" I repeated.
"What do you mean?" His eyes were bloodshot red as he blinked at me.
"She just left, and she looked pretty pissed."
"Fuck." Todd sat back against the cushion. That's when I noticed his jeans were pushed down around his ankles, but thankfully his T-shirt was long enough to hide...whatever. He became aware of his predicament the same time I did. "Shit." He reached for his pants and quickly tugged them up. I hid my smile but decided to keep my mouth shut. It was tempting to give him a hard time, but I resisted. Todd could be a hot head, and I wasn't in the mood for a fight. Drunk Todd equaled a belligerent and reckless Todd. There was no reasoning with him in that state. Once, he'd almost thrown someone off a third-floor balcony for being a fan of a rival football team. Obviously, he and Stephanie had been in the middle of something and he'd passed out on her.
"What?" Todd asked as if he was waiting for me to comment.
"Nothing." I smirked.
"Where's the beer?"
"Where the hell am I going to buy beer at this hour?"
After dark, Sea Whisper Island closed down tighter than a frog's ass underwater. The quaintness of the town was one of the things I loved about it when my brother, Mack, and I moved here from Charleston. The downside was not being able to escape anytime you wanted. A ferry ran from the island to Key City every day, and on the hour between 5:00 a.m. until midnight. For the first time, I understood the term 'trapped in paradise.' Todd stumbled from the couch and made his way into the kitchen, then a few seconds later he was talking to someone. His tone was low, but he spoke quickly. Gradually his voice grew louder and louder.
"Fine," he yelled, the edge on that word so sharp, I knew nothing good had been said and certainly not anything he thought was "fine." Todd came out of the kitchen holding a bottle of bourbon. "Fuckin' crazy women," he grumbled, took a swig from the bottle, then offered it to me.
"No, I'm good." I waved him off. "Are you going to be all right?"
Todd nodded quickly as he scrolled through his phone.
"Yeah. I'm cool. What was that chick's name? The one with the pink hair and big tits? Was it Mindy or Misty?"
"I don't know, man," I answered with a shrug. It wasn't that I couldn't recall anyone with pink hair and large breasts, because there were plenty. Outrageous hair color was popular. In fact, one side of Stephanie's hair looked like she'd been smacked upside the head with a rainbow. I never cared for all that. Natural beauty was more my style. Carina's hair was the perfect shade of red, not too dark, not too light. Kiss by fire, I once heard someone say. It described her in so many ways. Suddenly I was reminded of the torture she had been putting me through. Yeah, fuckin' crazy women was right. "Look, I'm going to turn in. I'll catch you in the morning."
Todd either didn't seem to hear me or care that I wasn't sticking around. He took another drink of bourbon then put his phone to his ear. As I made my way down to the hall to my room, I caught the opening lines of Todd trying to explain who he was to Mindy or Misty.
"I'm the guy from..." Todd mumbled something I couldn't make out. "...remember that time..."
If you sit around a group of guys long enough, every single one of them will have you convinced they are experts on women. Hell, most might even believe that bullshit. Either way, nothing sends a man spiraling into insanity faster than a woman.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Carina
The place was empty, and the bar was closed. It had always creeped me out a little to be alone in the restaurant. Harley and Fox had taken off early for another race, so I had been left all by myself to clean and lock up. It was only fair. Harley had done me a favor by covering my shifts for the past two nights. I had needed time to think, to get my head on straight. The best way to do that was to get away from everyone, especially Brando. My time off had brought me back to my original plan. With my resolve in place and my priorities remembered, I had been prepared to see him that night, to end it before things went too far. It was the best option for both of us. It would save me the pain of losing him once he discovered the truth about me and decided he wanted no part in it. When ten o'clock roll
ed around, I started Brando's coffee with a lump in my throat. Except he never showed, and I tried to convince myself I wasn't bothered by that.
I hummed along to an oldie playing on the jukebox, while my mind wandered in a million different directions. Out of nowhere, loud banging against the glass door made me shriek. I jumped probably three feet in the air before I whirled around to face the door, my hand clutching my chest. Brando was standing on the other side of the glass, motioning for me to let him in. The hard look on his face conveyed that it wasn't a request. My relief was instant as I went to him.
"Jesus, Brando. You scared the shit out of me," I said, moving aside as he entered then locked the door again.
"We need to talk." He came to a stop just inches away and stared down at me. His mouth was drawn into a frown as he crossed his arms over his chest.
"About what?" I played dumb, tilting my head back to meet his gaze. An overwhelming sensation ran through me and squeezed at my heart. I had missed him. Before he could respond, more tapping sounded on the door, much lighter that time.
Brando turned around, the irritation on his face replaced with alarm. I didn't have to look. I already knew who it was.
"It's Hunter. You can unlock it." Brando blinked a few times, as questions began to pile up in his head.
"You mean Hunter Knight?" he growled. I'd forgotten about the bad blood between the King brothers and Hunter Knight.
"Yes, it's fine. He's my cousin." My words didn't make a bit of difference to him. Brando didn't want to open the door, but he did it anyway.
Hunter stepped forward, but Brando blocked him from coming inside. Hunter only had enough room to step over the threshold.
Happily Ever Alpha: Until Midnight Page 4