Shiver

  The hand on my thigh yanked me closer to him. I planted my hands on his chest—it was hard and packed with muscle. I probably should have pushed him away. I didn’t. Instead, I fisted his shirt and sucked on his tongue. His growl vibrated in his chest and poured down my throat. I wanted to drown in him. And that was bad. But I couldn’t quite pull back. Every cell in my body seemed to scream with frustration. Scream for him.

  “Come with me,” he whispered, flicking out his tongue to trace my scar. His hot, clever mouth took mine again before I could answer. “Don’t think. Just come with me.” He sucked on my pulse, and I melted into him with a soft moan.

  A cell began to ring, jolting me out of my pliant state, and the spell was broken.

  I shoved away from him, seriously pissed at myself for being so weak. “I have to go.” I raked my hand through my hair. “I know I must seem like a fucking cock tease right now, but I’m not. I swear. This just … It can’t happen.”

  His head tilted, and he seemed to be weighing my words. I tried to stand, but his hands caught my face. “Shh. Calm down. No one’s calling you a cock tease. Now, why can’t this happen?”

  “Your phone’s still ringing.”

  “Answer my question, Kensey.”

  “Just forget it. There are a whole lot of women here who I’m sure will follow you wherever you want to go.”

  “I want the prickly, flight-risk sitting right here glaring at me.” His teeth tugged on my lower lip hard enough to sting. “I want to see her pretty eyes glaze over while I fuck in and out of her pussy until she can’t take it anymore.”

  “Kenz?” Sarah’s voice came from outside the cabana, shaking with nerves.

  He bit out a harsh curse. “Kensey …”

  I swallowed and repeated, “I have to go.”

  A muscle in his cheek ticked. “You sure that’s what you want?”

  No. “It’s what I’m going to do.”

  He brushed his nose against mine. “Why fight the inevitable, Kensey? Why?”

  “Kenz?” Sarah called out, louder this time. “I need to know you’re okay. If that rich motherfucker is bugging you—”

  With another curse, he let go of me and rose from the sofa. I followed him as, jaw hard, he stalked out of the cabana.

  Sarah jumped back in alarm. “I just want to check on Kensey.”

  “She’s fine,” he bit out.

  Drawing herself to her full height, as if braced for war, Sarah spoke, “Look, about Edilio—”

  “He won’t get fired,” began Blake, “providing he doesn’t pull that shit again. If you girls get the urge to come here, you call me. You don’t put his job at risk.”

  “C-call you?” asked Sarah, stunned.

  Blake turned to me as he fished something out of his pocket. Holding a business card between his thumb and forefinger, he said, “Take it. If you need anything or that trouble you won’t talk about gets too close, you call me. Now come on.”

  “Wait, what?” But he was already pulling me through the crowds, his hand cuffing my wrist. I was about to wrestle out of his grip, but Sarah elbowed me and then slashed a hand against her neck. She didn’t want me pushing him, worried for Edilio. So, with a resigned sigh, I let Blake guide me out of the Clubhouse and over to a black Lexus that was parked in the circular driveway. A tall, burly guy leaned against it, smoking a cigarette.

  “Rossi will take you both home,” said Blake. The driver flicked him a look of surprise and then inclined his head at us.

  Sarah smiled. “Cool.” She happily climbed into the car, but I wasn’t so keen. I didn’t know either guy, and I didn’t like accepting favors.

  I turned to Blake. “Look, you don’t have to—”

  He put a finger against my mouth. “Get in the fucking car, baby,” he whispered softly. “I want the peace of mind that you got home safely. Where’s the harm in giving me that?”

  “Come on, Kenz, let’s go,” urged Sarah.

  With yet another resigned sigh, I held up my hands in a gesture of surrender. Blake rested his hand on my head as I hopped inside, protecting it from the roof of the car. He shut the door and then spoke quietly to the driver, but I couldn’t make out the words.

  “That guy is a menace,” I muttered.

  Sarah’s eyes widened. “I think he’s fabulous.”

  “Fabulous?”

  “Hey, he let Edilio keep his job, he didn’t throw us out on our asses, he saved us from paying an outrageous cab price, and he’s allowing us to come back here—the guy is fucking awesome. Especially since he’s offered to help you. That’s the kind of person I’d want on my side if I had a stalker.”

  I clenched my teeth. “I don’t have a stalker.”

  “Like I’ve said before, it’s close enough to count.”

  Rossi slid into the driver’s seat. “Right, girls, where am I taking you?”

  As Sarah rattled off our addresses, I looked out of the window at Blake. He was staring at me, expression unreadable. God, he was annoying. Stubborn. Determined. And I wanted him with a ferocious intensity that spooked the shit out of me.

  Almost as if he knew what I was thinking, Blake gave me a wolfish smile and backed away from the car. Rossi then put the car in gear and drove off.

  As my place was closer to the Clubhouse than Sarah’s apartment was, Rossi took me home first. He didn’t pull away from the curb until I was safely inside the building—I wondered if Blake had asked him to wait or if Rossi was just being courteous.

  Considering it was the early hours of the morning, the place should have been quiet. No, as I wandered up the stairwell, I could hear muffled voices, the cry of a baby, and a TV blaring. I could also smell pot coming from the floor beneath mine. Hopefully that smell wouldn’t find its way into my apartment.

  Reaching my floor, I dug my keys out of my purse, wondering if I should go straight to bed or—

  My front door was ajar.

  I froze, switching from tired to alert in a single instant. The hairs on my nape and arms stood on end. I’d locked the door before leaving. Definitely locked the door. Fuck, was Ricky in there, the little bastard? Maybe.

  Even as I told myself that I should just hang back and call the police, I found myself taking a step forward. As quietly as any woman could move on high heels, I slowly and cautiously crossed to the door, but I didn’t open it. I stayed completely still, listening hard for any noises coming from inside the apartment. And I heard … snoring. It was a snore I knew well.

  Exhaling heavily in both relief and exasperation, I shoved open my door and walked inside. As I flicked on the light, Cade bolted upright on the sofa, shielding his eyes like I was holding a damn solar flare. I could smell his brand of beer, as if it were seeping fast out of his pores.

  I slammed the door shut. “Dammit, Cade, I thought—” I scrubbed a hand down my face.

  “Thought what?” he mumbled, collapsing back onto the pillows he’d clearly gotten out of the closet, along with the blanket he’d draped over himself. He’d stayed over enough times to know where I kept them.

  “That someone had broken in,” I replied.

  He grunted. “I need to crash here.”

  “Fine.” I turned off the light and locked the door. “Just don’t vomit on the sofa again.”

  His brows drew together. “Hey, I replaced the sofa.”

  “Yeah, and I’d like to keep this one.” Leaving him to sleep, I headed to my own bed.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  It was the snoring that woke me the next morning.

  Cade, you are such a pain in my ass.

  Rolling onto my back, I rubbed at my eyes … and the events of the previous night flashed through my brain. Squeezing my eyes shut, I cursed myself. I was an idiot—that much was without question. Why else would I make out with a guy I was intent on pushing away?

  I couldn’t even say I just got swept up in that kiss he blindsided me with. No, I’d been as into that kiss as he had. The feel of his mouth on mine had been like
a blowtorch. I’d wanted nothing more than to be closer to him. As close as it was possible for two people to be.

  Then I’d hated myself, because who the hell kissed a guy like that when said guy thought they were a suicidal, attention-seeking, crackhead?

  I did, apparently.

  With another harsh curse, I edged out of bed and headed for the bathroom. After brushing my teeth and doing my business, I went to the kitchen and switched on the coffeemaker. I was only wearing a tank top and shorts, but they weren’t indecent, and it wasn’t like Cade hadn’t already seen all there was to see.

  He wasn’t lying on the sofa, to my surprise. He was sprawled on the floor. From the small kitchen, I threw a balled-up dishtowel at him. It landed on his face, and he jerked.

  “Wake up,” I called tiredly. His only response was a throaty groan. “Come on, Cade, I can’t deal with the snoring anymore. You have to be at work in an hour.”

  A tanned hand lazily dragged the dishtowel from his face. “I shouldn’t have to work on a Saturday.”

  “And yet, you do.”

  “Coffee,” he slurred.

  “I’m making it as we speak, but you need to get off the floor and come get it.”

  He lifted his head, seeming surprised to realize he wasn’t on the sofa. With a groan, he let his head fall back down. “Coffee.”

  “You can have it when you get up.”

  With an indignant huff worthy of a rebellious teenager, he awkwardly struggled to his feet. “God, you’re mean.”

  “And you’re going to be late for work if you don’t get your ass in gear.”

  “Yeah, yeah.” He stumbled his way to the kitchen, kissed me on the cheek, and took the mug I set on the counter. He took a quick sip. “Damn, I needed that. Thanks for letting me crash here.”

  “I didn’t have much of a choice,” I pointed out with a smile. “You were already settled on the couch when I got home. Want to tell me why you crashed here?”

  “Had a fight with Kerri. Her apartment’s close to yours, so my drunken mind figured it made more sense to come here than go home.”

  “A fight, huh? Was it a bad one?”

  “Don’t remember. Just remember her yelling at me and shoving me out the door.”

  I winced. “Sorry to hear that.”

  He just shrugged, like it was nothing, and took another gulp of coffee. But I wasn’t convinced he was so blasé about it. I’d gotten the feeling that he liked her a lot.

  “By the way, next time you stay over, could you make sure you close and lock the door before collapsing on my sofa?”

  He frowned. “I did lock your door.”

  “Well, it was open when I got here.”

  His head jerked back. “Really? Huh. Sorry, Kenz. I could have sworn I closed and locked it.” He chugged back another mouthful of coffee. “Fuck, I need a shower. Do I have any spare clothes here?”

  “In the closet from the last time you crashed here. Top shelf.”

  “Awesome.” He disappeared into the bathroom, cup in hand. With a coffee and a bowl of cereal, I settled at the small breakfast bar and checked the emails on my phone as I ate. Nina Bowen’s email account had a few, but none were from Smith. I replied to each of the emails, typing—

  A knock at the door made my brow pinch. Crossing to it, I looked through the peephole. My stomach plummeted. Shit. What the fuck was Blake doing here? And why did he have to come here when I looked an absolute mess? I had bedhead, no makeup, and looked half dead. Oh, the universe hated me.

  With an inner curse, I opened the door and smiled wanly. “Morning.”

  His eyes heated as they raked over me from head to toe. “Can I come in?”

  “Well—”

  He pushed his way inside, kicking the door shut behind him. And that was when Cade came walking out of my bedroom, freshly showered and slipping on his tee. Blake went rigid, and his glacier blue eyes iced-over. I winced. Naturally he’d assume that me and Cade had spent the night together—who wouldn’t? But then some of the tension slipped from Blake’s muscles, and I noticed he was looking at the pillow, blanket, and rumpled sofa.

  Coming to a surprised halt, Cade blinked. “Blake.” His brow creased in confusion. “What brings you here?”

  Blake planted his feet. “I need to talk to Kensey.”

  Cade’s eyes narrowed. “You mean you want to give her shit about working at the bar?”

  “No.”

  Cade didn’t relax at that. If anything, he looked even more uneasy. “Then why?”

  “That’s between me and Kensey.”

  Oh, Cade didn’t like that. His brows lifted. “There’s a you and Kensey?” His focus shifted to me. “There’s a you and him?”

  Rubbing at my nape, I said, “No. But there’s a you-need-to-get-to-work-before-your-dad-kicks-your-ass.”

  “You’re trying to get rid of me? Nice.” He turned back to Blake. “Why are you here?”

  “I told you, I need to talk to Kensey. In private. If she wants to later tell you what was said here, she will do. For now, I need to talk to her alone.”

  For a few moments, Cade didn’t speak. His eyes cut to me. “You’ll be okay?”

  “I’ll be fine,” I assured him.

  With a grunt, Cade slipped on his jacket, kissed my cheek, and then shot Blake a warning look before striding out of the apartment. Leaving me alone with Blake. Which wasn’t good. Not at all. And I felt my stomach roll.

  My eyes were drawn to the mess Cade had made. I’d need to return the pillow and blanket to the closet. Of course, I’d have to wash the blanket first. After that, I’d need to plump the sofa cushions and—

  “Does he do that a lot?” asked Blake.

  Snapping out of my must-clean daze, I blinked. “Stay the night? Not really. Why are you here?”

  His hand delved into his pocket. “I believe this is yours.” He dangled a familiar earring in front of me.

  “Thanks.” I took it from him. “You didn’t need to deliver this so soon. In fact, you could have just handed it to me at the bar.”

  “I could have,” he agreed, settling on a breakfast stool. “Any coffee?”

  Knowing by the set of his jaw that he wasn’t going to budge, I poured him a coffee and set it on the counter in front of him. I didn’t take the stool beside him; it seemed safer to keep the breakfast bar between us.

  He sipped from the cup and groaned. My stomach fluttered, because he’d made that same damn noise when he kissed me last night. It made no logical sense, but I was wildly turned on … and he hadn’t touched me. Hadn’t smiled or flirted or anything. Just looked right at me, and those smoldering eyes drew me in. Like fucking quicksand or something.

  I wanted to slap myself. Really. It was truly fucking annoying.

  He looked around. “This place is … tidy. I didn’t take you for a neat freak.”

  “Hmm. Why are you here?”

  “To negotiate.”

  “Negotiate?” I echoed.

  “Last night, you said, ‘It can’t happen.’ You’re not fighting me just to be stubborn or because I made a bad first impression. There’s something else. You’re going to tell me what it will take to make you stop fighting me. Then we’ll see what we can do about it.” He went back to sipping his coffee, and I just stared at him, not sure what bothered me more—that his tenacious streak seemed endless, or that a part of me liked his little declaration.

  On the one hand, it was kind of flattering that he wasn’t letting this go. He knew the dark details of my family situation, but that didn’t appear to matter to him. On the other hand, though, it was also kind of sad. Why? Because this wasn’t about me as a person. He simply liked what he saw.

  I sighed. “This is damn ridiculous, Mercier. You can’t be short of offers from women. Maybe you like the chase, I don’t know, but there’s nothing so special about me that you can’t let this go.”

  “My name is Blake—use it. I don’t find fun in a chase. I like having what I want when I w
ant it. Am I short of offers? No. Nobody with money ever is. But I’ve already told you, I want you. Now tell me what’s holding you back from me.”

  I folded my arms across my chest. “Well, it boils down to three things, really. One, I have too much self-respect to sleep with someone who has a piss-poor opinion of me. Two, I don’t know you, and I’m not interested in fucking a stranger. Three, you don’t want anything more from me than a quick jump—I don’t do one-night stands.” And there was something about him that set off my inner alarms.

  He arched a brow. “You’ve never had a one-night stand?”

  “I’ve had them. I promised myself I was done with them.”

  He frowned thoughtfully. “I’ll address your points one at a time. Let’s start with number one. I don’t have a low opinion of you—I have a low opinion of the picture that Libby Williams painted. I’ve watched you. Talked to you. Asked others about you. A different picture has formed in my head, and I like it. I like it a lot.”

  Oh. Well, then.

  He leaned forward. “To be truthful, Kensey, you fucking fascinate me. Life dealt you shit cards, but you’re not bitter and you don’t walk around with a chip on your shoulder. You’ve stuck by a mother who made a series of bad choices that have affected you in tons of negative ways—another person in your position might have abandoned her long ago, and no one would have blamed you for that. Despite the relentless bullshit you’ve received from the Buchanan Brigade, you haven’t let them drive you out of Redwater or make you miserable.”

  The Buchanan Brigade … I liked that.

  “You’re absolutely stunning, but you don’t play up your looks. You don’t use much makeup. Don’t wear anything revealing, flattering, or eye-catching. The only time I’ve seen you dressed up was at the Clubhouse, but I’ll bet you only did it because you would have stood out if you hadn’t. You like to blend, but it doesn’t work so well, Kensey. Someone who looks like you will attract attention with every step they take. You’d have guys cueing up if you didn’t have that indefinable quality about you that makes you seem … unattainable. Elusive. Out of reach. It’s very intimidating for a guy.”