Redeemed (Dirty Air Series Book 4)

by Lauren Asher

  “Are you sure about that?”

  I nod.

  “All right, if that’s what you want. But just so you know ahead of time, I’m not betting on giving you a blowjob this time.”

  My skin heats. “Why not?”

  “Because if I win, I’m going to ask you to try out the F1 simulation with that fancy wheel you have there.” She points to the one Noah shipped.

  “I better not lose then.”

  I’m able to download the most recent version of Mario Kart without any issues.

  Chloe cracks her knuckles one by one. “Step aside, sir. Bowser is here to rock and roll.”

  “Bowser?”

  “Did you expect me to pick Princess Peach? And here I thought you knew me better than that.” She sticks out her tongue.

  My skin prickles with memories of that tongue on my skin. I cough as I load the screen, trying to rein in my hormones.

  Chloe and I take turns competing in a championship against one another. She’s a natural, and I find it hard to keep up with her high scores. And worse, I barely put any effort into beating her.

  I don’t mind losing the bet. As long as Chloe stays by my side, I can attempt the simulation afterward. Honestly, playing with her wasn’t about avoiding what I came in here to do. I just wanted to spend time together since she was gone the whole morning, and it seemed like a good idea.

  She doesn’t leave once as I situate myself in the fake cockpit and start up the latest simulation game. My hands tremble as I get a feel for the throttle paddle. The fake F1 cars line up on the grid, one by one, reminding me of old race days.

  Chloe’s hand covers mine. “I just want you to know I’m really freaking proud of you right now.”

  A blush creeps into my cheeks. “It’s just a game.”

  “It’s more than that.”

  “How so?”

  “This is your redemption.”

  Chloe runs the needle through the linen before pulling it up over her head. She sits crisscross on one of the lawn chairs by the lake, seeming to enjoy the early morning breeze.

  “What are you making?” I plop down on the chair beside her after my morning workout of mowing the lawn. Could I pay someone to do it? Sure. But could I give up the opportunity to give Chloe a front-row seat to me working the machine while hiding her attraction? Definitely not.

  She flashes me the embroidery circle. It’s an exact replica of the lake and mountains surrounding us.

  “Wow. You are incredibly talented. How did you make it look so real?” I peer over and check out the fine thread details. There has to be hundreds of multicolored stitches recreating the scene.

  “First I sketch whatever design I want on the fabric. Then I pick the threads. For an intricate design like this, I split the threads to make it finer.”

  My eyes widen. “Wait. You drew that first?”

  “It’s not that hard.” Her cheeks flush.

  “No. It’s incredible. Do you have pictures of other ones you created?”

  I didn’t realize she was this good at her designs. They’re like pieces of art, woven together by thousands of threads. It’s a shame she hides this talent from the world.

  She pulls out her phone and opens up an album. “Here. You can flip through all of those.”

  I grab it with greedy hands. The different designs Chloe made range from picturesque nature scenes to quotes and poems. All her designs show up on different objects, from clothes to accessories. I had no clue she was this talented.

  “Are you sure you don’t want to start up a shop? These are amazing.”

  She laughs. “You’ve never seen other designs to know if that’s true. What if I’m secretly terrible and you have no clue?”

  I roll my eyes and pull out my phone.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Researching the market.”

  She snorts. “Why would you do that?”

  “Because someone I know speaks from a tall soapbox to others about boosting their self-esteem yet doesn’t do the same to herself.”

  “Burn,” she hisses.

  I smirk and scroll through Etsy and Pinterest. Spending time with Maya taught me all the tricks of where to purchase certain types of custom items. There are quite a few talented embroidery shops, but nothing compares to the designs Chloe makes. It’s like she channels her inner Bob Ross and makes intricate landscapes out of thread and a needle.

  “Okay. I’ve completed my analysis and have the results.” I turn toward her.

  “And?” She bites her lip.

  “Your designs are superior. The end. You need to start a shop, ASAP.”

  She laughs. “I appreciate your kind words. It’s nice.”

  “But?”

  “But starting up a business is the last thing I should do.”

  “Why not?”

  “Well, once I go back to America, I need to pick my jobs back up. This summer has been fun and all, but reality will come knocking eventually. Brooke can’t live with some stranger subleasing my room forever.”

  My stomach dips at her words. “When do you plan on leaving?”

  She shrugs. “I’m not sure. I’m still figuring out when I’ll tell Matteo about who I am.”

  Can I cast my vote for never? “And if you tell him?”

  “Then I guess I’ll see from there. I’ve never been much of a planner.” Her smile doesn’t fill me with its accompanying warmth.

  “Have you ever considered staying here, even after you tell him? Don’t you want to stay with your dad after being apart after all this time?” My voice carries a hopeful note.

  Her eyes return to her embroidery circle. She fiddles with the needle, twirling it with her fingers. “Honestly, no, I didn’t think it was even an option to live here. I wasn’t thinking that far ahead when I booked my ticket. But now that you bring it up, I wonder if it’s a possibility.”

  “Really?” I didn’t expect her to admit that. Maybe there is some hope after all.

  “I mean he’s my dad, and I don’t have many ties in America besides Brooke. I’m not saying I’d stay, but it’s not exactly a no either. Does that make sense?”

  It makes a hell of a lot of sense. All I need to do is convince someone who already wants to stay that she shouldn’t leave in the first place.

  Mission accepted.

  33

  Santiago

  “Please tell me you’re joking.”

  “I wish I was.” I press the button to start up the projector. The screen rolls down from the ceiling, and the lights dim on their own.

  Money may not buy happiness, but it can buy moments like this with Chloe. I’ll take domestic bliss in my at-home movie theater any day over the real deal. Crowds aren’t my thing, and it’s not like I can hide my celebrity status from the world and go on a normal date.

  Chloe stands from her side of the couch. “You’ve never seen Pretty in Pink? Like ever?”

  “No.”

  “Are you even human?”

  “Unfortunately.”

  She laughs and snatches the controller straight from my hands. “We must fix this.”

  “Why?”

  “Because that movie set my standards way too high for romance.”

  Now, she has my attention. “Tell me more.”

  “The whole reason I am obsessed with eighties movies in the first place is because my foster mom only had a VHS system—no cable TV.”

  Well, this is a depressing start to her story.

  “Brooke and I binged every tape she had over and over again. We still have a yearly marathon to this day to commemorate our childhood.”

  “And what movies are your favorites?”

  Her whole face lights up. “Pretty in Pink, no duh. And then The Breakfast Club, Ferris Bueller’s Day Off, and Say Anything. I mean that scene with the boombox is one of my favorite movie scenes ever.” Her enthusiasm grows as she explains different movies I have no clue about.

  I ask her questions just to hear her talk. I
t’s too much fun, watching her expressive face brighten every time I question something. Who knew being clueless about a topic could be this enjoyable? Chloe rolls her eyes when I make an obvious mistake and smiles when I remember a detail she shared a few minutes before.

  Every damn second of the conversation is worth it.

  I clear my throat. “We better get started if we ever plan on watching all these movies.”

  “You want to see them?”

  “Of course. I’m curious to see how someone woos a woman with a boombox outside of her house.”

  “With a meaningful song, of course. Bonus points for nostalgia if you play ‘In Your Eyes.’”

  “I’m mentally noting all of this.”

  “Do you plan on wooing someone in the near future?”

  “You never know. Someone told me wooing is important.” I grin.

  She smiles to herself as she settles back onto the opposite end of the couch.

  “You’re going to not only torture me with this movie but also by sitting far away? What kind of man do you take me for?”

  “The kind who wants to make me happy?”

  “What about my happiness?”

  “Of course that’s important.”

  I point to my empty side. “Then get your ass over here. I like to cuddle.”

  She lets out an exaggerated huff and scoots over toward me. I place my arm on the back of the couch, giving her room to lean into me.

  “A smooth guy would’ve made a move rather than forced me over here.”

  “I’m crippled. Have pity on me.”

  She pinches my side. “Don’t even try it.”

  I laugh. “Why bother making a move when I know I’ll get what I want?”

  That statement earns me a harder pinch right between two of my ribs.

  “You’re awfully cocky.”

  “Emphasis on the cock.”

  She lets out an obnoxious laugh that leaves her wheezing. “Please stop. My heart can’t handle any more of this.”

  The movie starts, interrupting us with the intro to Pretty in Pink. Chloe cuddles up to my side and rests her head against my chest.

  I wrap my arm around her.

  Yeah, I could definitely get used to this, chick flicks and all.

  Chloe has officially infiltrated my home. Having her around is like living with constant temptation in the form of short shorts and hints of cleavage. She scatters her items around the house, and while it should frustrate me, it only makes me smile like an idiot when I find them. And I mean it. Her shit is everywhere, but it surprisingly keeps me grounded in a good way. The kind of way I want to hold on to and relive day after day.

  Chloe is working her way so deep into my heart that I’m struggling to remember how life was without having her around. But the best part of having her around is I have yet to fall into my dark place again. For the first time in a long time, I feel happy. Truly, unequivocally happy. I look forward to waking up earlier than her and cooking breakfast before she runs off to work.

  In the past few months I’ve known her, Chloe Carter has banished the monsters making my days dark, and replaced them with everything that makes her days special.

  It’s not enough to have her here living under my roof. I want to cut a piece of my heart out and tuck Chloe inside, protecting her from the world.

  She’s like a rainbow after the storm, and I’ll be damned if she fades away once the sun breaks through the clouds.

  34

  Chloe

  “I’ve been thinking about something…” I pass Santiago the wrench he asked for. Did I mention I love his car garage yet? No?

  It would make grown men weep, it’s that beautiful. Hell, I’d consider shedding a tear or two for the Bumblebee-lookalike Camaro in the corner.

  He rolls half his body out from underneath his latest fix-up. “That’s never a good idea.”

  I push my foot against his rolling device, attempting to shove him back under the car.

  He laughs at my effort. “I was joking. What have you been thinking about?”

  “Well, you going back to racing for one thing.”

  His penetrative gaze stays locked on mine. “What about it?”

  “When are you planning on scheduling your test run?”

  He rolls back underneath the car without answering me. The sounds of tools being used fills the silence, and a few bolts drop onto the cement floor.

  “I scheduled it for next week.”

  “What?” I crouch down, trying to see his eyes. “You’ve been holding out on me!”

  “I booked it for a day you’re working.”

  “Why would you do that?” A throb I’m unaccustomed to blooms inside of my chest. I thought he wanted me to go with him. Did he change his mind?

  “It’s not because of you.” He rolls back out from underneath the car. With more agility than I expect from him, he stands up.

  “Do you not want me to go anymore?” Somehow I hide the hurt in my voice.

  “It’s not you, it’s me.”

  Right. A classic brush-off. For some reason, it feels a lot different being on the receiving end.

  “Then what?”

  “I didn’t want to disappoint you. I was afraid I’d chicken out and doing so would be a hell of a lot easier without you there.”

  “Because I wouldn’t hold you accountable.”

  He shakes his head, stepping back into my personal bubble. “Because making you unhappy is the last thing I want.”

  He reaches out for my cheek. The roughness of his palm brushes against my skin, and everything inside of me aches for more. “I want to make you proud of me.”

  “Of course I’m proud of you. What roommate wouldn’t be? You kicked my ass in Mario Kart earlier and completed a bunch of simulation laps.” I jokingly shove his shoulder, but it comes off forced. My eyes flutter shut as his thumb trails across my lips.

  “Roommates, huh?”

  “The bestest. Like the show Friends.”

  “The one where they all get together? I couldn’t have picked a better choice myself.”

  My eyes snap open. “That’s not what I meant.”

  “You attempt with everything in you to resist us.” He runs a finger across my clavicle, eliciting a shiver from me.

  “I try hard to show you that certain things are more important than sex.”

  “That exists?”

  This time I shove his shoulder harder. He budges an inch before standing his ground.

  “You’re hilarious. Really.” Sarcasm weighs my words down. “And stop changing the subject.”

  “Then stop avoiding the one that matters. I’m changing, and if you haven’t realized that, then you’re not looking hard enough.”

  He’s right. It’s obvious that he is changing, little by little. Between his daily trainings in the simulation lab to his discussions on the phone with Noah, he really is attempting to get back out there. He even bought a second F1 simulator set so we could play Mario Kart together every day after I come home from work. Can I withhold what we both want when he is trying to be different?

  I don’t bother with a rebuttal once his lips touch mine. Whatever kiss I had on replay in my head from the elevator doesn’t do the real deal justice. It’s like comparing a single flame to a blowtorch.

  His lips dominate, stealing away my thoughts. He traces the seam of my lips with his tongue, begging for entrance. I wrap my arms around his neck and let him take control. I can’t help it. Kissing him is like eating dessert before dinner. I know it’s bad for me, and it’ll spoil my appetite for everything afterward, but I can’t help wanting to do something forbidden.

  His hands palm my ass before he lifts me up. I wrap my legs around his waist, holding on with dear life as he places me on the hood of his car. My hands search for any kind of purchase.

  His lips never leave my body. My neck, my lips, the soft spot right behind my ear all fall victim to his touch. I ache, my lower half throbbing with need.

&
nbsp; Nothing can stop him from his relentless torture. He fists the bottom of my shirt and tugs it off my body. His greedy hands explore every inch of my skin while his lips trail their way down my neck. “Tell me not to stop.”

  Is he crazy? My neck pulses rapidly, each breath becoming a chore.

  “Don’t stop,” I whisper, my voice hoarse and desperate.

  He pushes my body down against the hood of the car. Metal bends beneath our weight, but I can’t find it in me to care. I can’t find it in me to do anything but feel.

  He leans down and presses his erection against my center.

  My fingers dig into his shoulders as I moan. “If you’re going any further, then you better have a condom on your person.”

  He abandons me for the rolling cart, finding his wallet in the mess of tools. I practically weep at the foil package in his hands.

  “Been saving that for when you get lucky?” I smirk.

  “I’ve been lucky ever since you stumbled into my life. This is an added bonus.” He smiles. It’s devilish, with a hint of something else in his eyes.

  Oh my God. He did not just say that. My pulse quickens as he makes quick work of his sweatpants.

  Everything seems promising until he freezes, his pants halfway down his legs. His body tenses as he exhales a deep breath.

  That can’t be good. I want to stop him before his brain gets going.

  “Hey.” I snap my fingers as I prop myself up on the hood of the car.

  His eyes snap in my direction. He remains stoic, his face unreadable.

  “Santiago, if you don’t fuck me, I’ll kill you. Leg be damned.”

  His forehead scrunches as he contemplates whatever demons threaten to take control of him. He clutches onto the condom with a death-grip. The foil crinkles under the added pressure, but he doesn’t move an inch toward me.

  Our moment is lost to whatever thought took over his lust. I release a tense breath as I scoot down the hood of the car. Making quick work of finding my clothes, I grab my shirt off the floor and throw it over my head.

  I move toward him, helping lift the band of his sweatpants to cover himself. “It’s okay. You’re not ready yet.”