Better When He's Bold Page 7
I pulled open the door a fraction and called Race’s name. There wasn’t a response, and I was about to go explore the tiny space he’d brought me to, when he suddenly appeared in front of me, green eyes flashing and that dimple indenting his cheek. No boy who was as bad as he was should be that beautiful. It wasn’t fair. Somewhere along the way he had ditched his button-down shirt and was now only wearing a white wife-beater, and his hair was sticking up in a sexy mess all over his head. He had a bottle of peroxide in his hand, along with a clean white towel.
“Let’s fix you up.”
I nodded and took a step back into the bathroom. It was too small a place to be in with him considering my lack of clothes and how much I wanted to be all over him. I felt my heart dip and his mossy gaze scanned over me from head to toe, turning darker and blacker the more naked skin his eyes took in.
“Sit down.”
I propped myself on the closed toilet lid and gazed at him with big eyes. “Be gentle.”
The dark center of his eyes flared and the corners of his sexy mouth turned down.
“What’s going on, Brysen? Why is someone fucking with you?”
I could only shake my head and shrug. It was a bad idea because the towel already didn’t offer much coverage, and with each move I made it dipped lower across the swell of my breasts. Neither one of us mentioned it, but both of our breathing changed. Mine rapid, his shallow and raspy.
“I don’t know. Honestly. For the most part, I’m a pretty nice person, I mind my own business . . . I don’t know.” My voice was barely a whisper that quickly turned into a yelp of pain when the white cloth soaked in peroxide hit the raw surface of my knee. I jolted so hard, the towel almost fell all the way down.
Race closed his eyes briefly and sank to his knees in front of me so he could grab my arm. He straightened it out with light fingers and looked me dead in the eye.
“The gunshots at the party were about me, not you. I was there to collect money, and the kid who owed it wasn’t happy about it. Why did you think someone was shooting at you?”
His long fingers softly manipulated the cut. I felt him stroke over the rock that was embedded in there still, and then heard him swear under his breath.
“I need to find something to get that out with.”
As he rose effortlessly to his feet and loomed over me I gulped and blinked back tears that suddenly filled my eyes.
“I got home from the party and someone sent me a text from a strange number telling me that I looked pretty and that they were sorry they missed me. It felt really threatening, like they missed me with a bullet, ya know?”
It sounded so crazy, so far-fetched, but the way his teeth clenched and his jaw went hard made me glad to share it with someone who wasn’t going to just dismiss my concern.
“You have no idea who it could be?”
All I could do was shake my head. He just stared at me for a second before disappearing and coming back with a pair of tweezers. I wasn’t looking forward to this part, but having his hands on me was distracting, and being this close to him, breathing him in, was a sensual treat I wouldn’t ever typically be awarded.
“Keep your arm straight.” He took my hand and put it on his shoulder before sinking down on his knees in front of me again. He was so pretty. I just wanted to touch him, to pet him and stroke him all over. I vaguely wondered if he got away with all he did just because it was impossible to fight against the pull of all that magnetism.
I curled the edge of my fingernails into the cords of his neck when the tip of the tweezers started poking around the wound. I swore, clamped my teeth down hard on my bottom lip, and tried to stop from screaming. It hurt, really hurt, even though he was moving slowly and trying his best to do as minimal damage as possible. I tasted blood, heard him say my name, felt the burn of peroxide, and then his mouth was on top of mine.
His hands were in my hair. His tongue was twisted and turned all around my own. I was pulled off the toilet and onto his lap as he fell back with a dull thud against the wall. Race wasn’t a small guy, and the bathroom wasn’t exactly roomy, which meant I was all over him and the towel I had been using for minimal coverage was a thing of the past. I was very naked, very on top of him. His rock hardness and the sharp sting of the tile against my injured knee barely registered because all the parts of me touching all the parts of him were hot and tingly and things like cuts and scrapes didn’t matter. His chest under the thin material of his white wife-beater was strong and warm. I wanted to curl into him, fall into him, and put everything else I was always holding on to down. As dangerous as he was for me to get tangled up with, feeling him, pressing into him, made me feel safe, and had security floating around my head in such a heady way that I practically mauled him trying to get closer.
I tunneled my fingers through his hair and heard him groan into my mouth. If he was going to adopt the habit of kissing me senseless every single time he felt I needed a distraction, I was going to have to make a point of getting out of sorts around him more often. I felt his body react underneath mine. Felt him get even harder through the layer of denim separating us, and his hands got tighter in my hair. There was always an edge to Race, a razor-fine line that lurked behind all that Midas glow he possessed that hinted at a stronger core, a wilder side to him that I think he kept out of sight from the rest of the world. He was so much more than a disinherited rich kid, had so much more going on than being Bax’s partner in crime, but it was so easy to be blinded by his sheer beauty and suave manner that I think all the facets to him were easily overlooked. Right now, with his hands getting a little rough, his breath rasping in and out, and his eyes glinting all hot and dark, there was no mistaking that he was capable of doing really bad things to me . . . God, how I wanted him to do all of them.
He pulled back a little and slicked his tongue over the full curve of his bottom lip. That gesture alone could have made me spontaneously orgasm, but he trailed his thumbs along the edge of my jaw, used the edges of his palms to tilt my head back a little, and leaned forward to kiss me softly behind the ear. His mouth was indulgent, sucking, tickling, and knew every single secret spot I seemed to have. I was shivering so hard and whimpering in such a needy way, I had to do something to stop myself from coming apart in his hands like a cheaply made toy. He was handling me like he owned me. Like he had been doing it forever. Like he wanted to give me back everything I had given away in the last year, and I was going to start crying again if I didn’t do something with my hands or with my mouth.
I pressed forward, bent down so I could seal my mouth back over his, and kissed him with all the desperation, all the fearless anticipation, I could feel swirling around in the tiny space with us. I had never been locked in such a passionate embrace, been so turned on and worked up in such an unromantic setting, but none of it mattered because Race’s touch was electric and everything about him and me just seemed to HAVE to happen.
I used my teeth to nip at his lip, swirled my tongue across his, and breathed him in and out. I clutched at his silky hair and tried to refrain from grinding on the erection that was becoming more and more persistent where my legs were spread wantonly across his lap. I wasn’t a sexual dynamo or a shrinking violet. I was just a normal girl with normal needs, but something about this guy made my head go crazy, made my blood go hot and fiery, and I wanted to do things, say things that I had never even thought of before. That was the danger of Race, always making me want what I couldn’t and shouldn’t have.
He pulled back from my ravenous kiss and we looked at each other with lust-filled eyes. We were both breathing like long-distance runners and there was no missing the reaction from either of our bodies to the other. I was all liquid and needy, he was all hard and ready. I think all we were waiting for was the other to give a solid green light. I was naked and sprawled all over him, and I didn’t know how much more welcoming I could be when he suddenly used the edge of one of his knuckles and guided it across my collarbone and down the center of my
chest. It made my heart skip a beat and both of my nipples pucker into painful points of readiness, knowing they were undoubtedly his destination.
I exhaled his name, curled my fingers tighter into his hair, and prepared myself for what was going to come next. His mouth on me . . . anywhere on me . . . yes, please. Only all the excitement, all the arousal and pulsating need that was throbbing between my legs and in my blood, went still, froze when I heard my phone go off from somewhere in the midst of the pile of torn and bloody clothes I had left on the floor. Race was good, really good, and I was turned on, more so than I think I had ever been in my life, but the ring tone was the one I had assigned specifically to Karsen, and it struck me in a blinding rush that I should’ve been home hours ago. I hadn’t told anyone what was going on or where I was. A call this late from her when she had school the next morning couldn’t mean anything good.
I scrambled up off Race’s rock-hard form so fast his head actually thunked back against the wall with an echoing sound. I pawed through the pile of clothes until I found my cell and sprang to my feet. I pulled on the long-abandoned T-shirt resting on the sink and wandered out of the tiny bathroom.
“Karsen?”
“Brysen, will you be home soon?” My sister’s voice was shaky and unsure. I wanted to kick myself. I looked over my shoulder as Race followed me out into the minuscule living space.
“I will. Something came up after work and I just lost track of time. I’ll be there in twenty. Why are you still up?”
I heard her sigh and then sniffle like she was crying and I swore at myself silently.
“Mom came out of her room a little while ago and got mad at Dad for something. He shut the door to the office and she went into the kitchen and started throwing things all around. She was screaming and yelling that no one in this family appreciates her and that she could just disappear and we would never notice. She broke all the dishes. I went in to tell her I would clean it up and she screamed at me that I was a worthless pain in the ass.”
Now I swore out loud and tugged hard enough on my hair that it hurt.
“Just go to your room and stay there. Ignore her, Karsen. She’s just in one of her moods.” I was sure it was fueled by vodka or something else, but that was still no excuse. My little sister didn’t deserve to be the target of that kind of unjustified anger.
I heard her whimper a little and then take a deep breath. “I’m sorry. You shouldn’t have to rush home to deal with this.”
I just shook my head. There was no one else who could do it. I tried my best to keep the house dry, to keep what was basically a loaded weapon out of my mother’s hands, but every time I turned around it was like I was being circumvented and another bottle of vodka appeared. “I’ll see you in a minute.”
I ended the call and turned to find Race watching me with curious eyes. All the dark and lusty black had retreated back into the color of fresh pine and there was no running from the probing quality of his gaze. I took the sweatpants he held out to me, even though Dovie was way shorter than me. I needed to cover up the damage to my skin as much as possible. I didn’t need to give Karsen any more reason to freak out for the night.
“I need to get home.”
He tilted his head a little and ran his hands over his messy hair. I wanted to sigh and rub up against him like a cat.
“I’ll follow you.”
I bit down on my lip and fought back an automatic rejection. Having him follow me home made this feel like something more than an almost hookup. He lifted one blond brow and walked over to the couch, where his abandoned shirt was lying.
“Someone tried to run you over a couple hours ago, Bry. You really think I’m letting you out of here on your own right now?”
I wanted to tell him that I appreciated it, that no one had kept an eye on me for way longer than I wanted to admit to.
“Thanks, Race.”
He didn’t say anything else, just waited for me to get myself situated, and then guided me out of the loft part of the garage into the part that actually had all the cars. I wasn’t a mechanical girl but even I could tell there was way more than basic car repair happening under the place Race was calling home. We walked outside and I had to admit I was surprised and pleased that the BMW was there in one piece and unscathed.
“It must be nice to have minions.”
He pulled the driver’s door open for me and flashed that dimple at me. That dimple was going to be my utter downfall, I just knew it, and so did my vagina.
“I can give or take a minion. It’s having the authority and the power to make shit happen that’s nice.”
I looked at Race over the frame of the door and blinked at him. “Is that why you’re doing what you’re doing? The power?”
I wanted to ask how he could be so comfortable in a role that had people pulling guns on him and putting him in danger. He didn’t seem like a cavalier person. There was too much working behind those forest-colored eyes and under all of that glorious hair on the top of his head.
The dimple got a little deeper and he pushed off the car, making the muscles in his shoulders ripple and my tummy dip.
“In a place like this, there aren’t very many good people running around. That means there are a lot of bad things happening under the surface and a lot of bad people doing those things. I’m not a bad guy, Brysen, but I’m not a good guy either. I’m just enough of both to keep a handle on those bad things to stop them from spilling over and infecting the few good ones left in this godforsaken place. That’s why I do what I do.”
I gulped and tried to tell myself that this didn’t make a difference, but it really did. He smirked at me and turned to walk to his flashy car.
“Besides, someone needs to get paid to do it, might as well be me. I don’t have a trust fund anymore.”
There it was. The two sides of him that made him unpredictable and hard to really get my head around. Altruistic and selfless while, in turn, being arrogant and flippant about his current circumstances.
I got in my car and waited for him to get the big, metal gate open so I could exit the compound. It was an odd place for him to be living. It was industrial, more a fortress than any kind of home, and it was right in the center of the Point, which automatically lent itself to a sort of filthy, postapocalyptic feel. For all his posturing about not being part of this place, Race oozed an essence of wealth and refinement that was just part of his genetic makeup. Living in a place that didn’t even really have furniture or anything to make it welcoming or comforting spoke to something greater going on with him. If my own living circumstances weren’t so all over the place, there was a really solid chance I would spend an inordinate amount of time trying to unearth the deeper subtext behind his choices.
The drive out of the city was fast, mostly because I was in a rush and worried about what was happening at my house, and partly because I was subconsciously trying to outrun the man and the red sports car behind me. I knew that scene in the bathroom wasn’t leaving my mind anytime soon, and I also knew if Karsen hadn’t called and interrupted, I would’ve taken a step with Race that would fundamentally alter the relationship we had.
All the lights were off in the front of the house when I pulled into the driveway. I took a long second to collect myself, found a long-sleeved sweater in the backseat of the car to cover my arm, and climbed out of the car. I was just going to wave Race on, hope he just kept driving, but he stopped and got out of the car, the new Mac clasped in one hand. Crap. I had forgotten all about the computer.
He didn’t give me a chance to say anything, just shoved the lightweight laptop in my hands, bent down, and pressed a hard, marking kiss to my parted lips and told me, “Keep your eyes peeled for anything weird until I can get a handle on who might be screwing with you. Forward me any more shitty text messages, and look over the notes I saved for you. I rearranged them in a different order. I don’t know who is teaching that class, but they are clearly an idiot and should never have gotten tenure.”
“Race . . .” I called his name and he looked at me over his broad shoulder. I didn’t know what else to say to him, so he grinned at me and I just shook my head.
“This”—he pointed a finger between him and me as he pulled open the car door—“is happening. Maybe not now because it isn’t a good time for you, and maybe not later because I might not be around all that long, but at some point in between, sooner or later, it’s going down. Be ready for it, Brysen.”
How could anyone ever be ready for that? I practically ran inside when I heard the motor on his car rev up. I slammed the front door behind me and marched toward the kitchen, full of so many different emotions that I could taste all the different sweet and sour flavors of them on my tongue.
My mom didn’t just break every dish we had; she had also pulled everything out of the fridge and splattered the contents along the floors and counters. All of the cabinets were empty. The water in the sink was running, and it looked like she had taken the entire jug of dishwashing liquid and poured it all along the floor. It was a mess, a nightmare that was totally preventable and unnecessary, just like the current state of my life. I wanted to kick something, namely both my parents, but that wouldn’t get me anywhere, so I ground my teeth together and went upstairs to set the expensive gift from Race down on my bed and check on my sister. It was going to take hours to clean the kitchen up, and that was after I checked on my mom and ripped my dad a new one. Not that either of those things would do any good. Nothing ever seemed to change.