Krush Page 6

  “I was tired of waiting. She was six months along and she was dragging her feet. She didn’t know how to tell her parents, but I couldn’t do it anymore. I couldn’t put on the fake smile and pretend anymore. It was snowing and I told her to stay home, but she was going to him.” He ran a shaking hand down his face and slumped on the couch. His head fell forward. “She died. Took the secret with her.”

  She stumbled over to him, knelt on the floor, and took his hands. “Cole.”

  His hands tightened on hers and his glassy brown eyes stared at her. “I didn’t understand why she would do that. Why she would turn to someone else. She’d tried to tell me but I didn’t understand. But… I think I get it now.”

  She flinched away, but he gathered her up and pulled her over his lap, his arm snug around her waist. There were no words. No thought that could follow his thinking.

  “This pull we have. All these extremes you make me feel.” His knuckle grazed her face. “The need I have for you. It wasn’t there with her… or anyone else. Since the moment you shook my hand it’s been there. Shouldn’t a relationship be more than just comfortable?”

  She hadn’t even wrapped her head around the word ‘relationship’ when his thumb brushed along her bottom lip.

  “If you could see how your eyes darken when I touch you. I know you feel what I feel.” His mouth kissed up her neck, and how much he wanted her was firm and hard against her ass. “This is what has been missing. You are what’s been missing from my life.”

  Her heart constricted with his words, and she was lost. This beautiful man saw her but she couldn’t keep him. It wouldn’t be fair to him.

  But she didn’t stop him when he pushed her back and pinned her to the couch. He jerked down her shirt and his mouth latched hard onto her nipple. She gasped and arched against him. He pushed up her tight skirt so it bunched around her hips, and ripped at her panties. He snapped open his slacks while she pulled hard at his shirt. The need to feel his bare skin was overwhelming. He helped her shove it off his shoulders, and then his mouth hovered over hers.

  “I need you. But we don’t fit,” she panted against his lips.

  “We fit perfectly, Anjinho Anjo.” He drove in hard, as though to prove his point.

  *

  Much later, Angel lay in his bed, memorizing his sleeping face as tears seeped into her pillow. No matter what he’d said, they weren’t a perfect fit, and she wouldn’t be the one to hold him back. She didn’t fit into his world. Couldn’t fit in his world. No matter their connection.

  She sucked in her bottom lip, forced herself not to touch him one last time, and quietly got up. She’d gathered her things the day before, so all her stuff was in one place.

  She laid the tiny pink shell they’d found on their first outing next to his laptop. It would be up to him to see it.

  At the last minute, she grabbed the button down shirt he’d worn the night before and stuffed it in her bag before she slipped out the door, off the boat and to her flight.

  Chapter Eight

  Cole stood on the sidewalk and thought about his Angel. The one who’d captured his heart and left it in pieces. Left him with no word. Again. He turned the shell over and over in his fingers. Small yet significant she’d said. So was she.

  He stepped into Booseys. It was just as she described. Wooden floors, brick walls, bar on the left, and a stage in the back. Determination in his steps, he stopped at the bar, and looked for his girl. The one he hadn’t seen in over a month. Instead, a tiny redhead stopped in front of him.

  “What can I get ya?”

  He smiled at who he knew to be Lila. “Angel.”

  She stopped and her bright blue eyes widened. “Holy shit, you’re Cole.”

  He shifted his gaze behind the bar to a tall man with a long goatee. He flung a towel over his shoulder and scowled. “Did you say Angel?”

  “Yes, sir. You must be Mick.”

  Mick widened his stance and crossed his arms over his chest. Cole could see how that would scare some, but he had no intention of leaving without seeing Angel.

  “I’m Cole. I met your daughter on the cruise.”

  They had drawn a crowd now. He recognized each person who was important to her. All the DirtSlap band members along with Cassie and Shelby.

  “Why are you here?” Mick asked, his stare never wavering.

  “Well, duh. He’s here for Angel.” Lila’s huff interrupted them, then she eyed him up and down. “Damn, she did good.”

  He chuckled and Lila winked at him. “Don’t worry. She didn’t tell me much. She’s very private but I caught her more than once looking at your picture on her phone. Why the hell did it take you so long?”

  “That’s a great question,” Mick said.

  “If it’s all the same to you, I’d rather tell her first. Is she here?”

  Mick raised a dark brow. “No. She’s not. So tell me.”

  “I mean no disrespect, but I think it’s something she needs to hear first.”

  “The dude has balls, I’ll give him that,” Cassie said and smirked.

  “I’ll take that as a compliment, Cassie.” Her green eyes widened and he met each shocked gaze. “Yes, I know who each and every one of you are and I’d love to talk, but I need to see Angel. Can someone tell me where I can find her?”

  It wasn’t long and he had her address, thanks to Lila who had hastily written it down and shoved him out the door.

  He’d been furious when he’d woken up alone on the boat. Everything he’d poured out to her and she’d disappeared without a word. All it took was two weeks away from her, being with his family, seeing the people he associated with and knowing they were the same as those people at their last dinner. All of them knew Melanie. No one there would accept her. His family would, but not his business associates.

  So he’d come clean with his parents. Shipped all of Melanie’s stuff to her parents and put his house up for sale, furniture and all. Kept only his personal belongings, hopped in his truck, and headed to Nashville.

  Now he stood at her door.

  Alien Ant Farm blared from her loft apartment. He knocked, and when nothing happened, he banged louder. The music fell down a notch, and she yanked open the door.

  He’d been starved for her, and there she stood, wearing his button down shirt, a bandana tied up in her hair, and a paintbrush in her hand. The lips he’d missed parted, the paintbrush fell to the floor, a tear slid down her face, and she launched at him. He staggered back a step as he caught her. Her arms tight around his neck, her legs around his waist, she buried her face in his neck.

  He inhaled her scent and pulled the bandana from her black hair so he could shove his hands in it. With his heart beating double time, he stepped into her home and kicked the door shut behind him. He hadn’t known what to expect, since she disappeared without a goodbye. He had prepared a speech, had arguments laid out to convince her they belonged together—then hungry lips sought his.

  *

  Angel clung to him. He was here… he was really here. God, she needed him. She slanted her lips over his and he answered. A month and a half without him had been an eternity. She didn’t care why he was here, only that he was, and she needed him. Frantic, her hands clawed at his back, pulling at his t-shirt. They fell on her bed and she rolled him, breaking the kiss to yank his shirt off.

  He felt too real to be a dream, and she wasn’t wasting a moment to figure out if he was or not. His skin was hot, his warm eyes luring her in. She unsnapped his shorts, and with her legs braced on either side of his hips, she slammed him in.

  “Cole,” she panted.

  He sat up and cupped her face, his breath heavy on her cheek. “You’re wearing my shirt.”

  She whimpered, wanting to move, needing him to move. He took his time, unbuttoning the shirt, while he filled and pulsed within her. She bit his lip as she quickly flung the shirt away. He rolled, grabbed her hands, pinned them above her head, and moved. Oh, how he moved. Every nerve alive. Ever
y ache filled with all he could give. Every broken piece of her heart mended.

  “Anjinho Anjo, coracao. Eu te amo.”

  Her eyes flew open. His voice was a balm on her soul, even if she didn’t understand the words. The reverence was there. His nose brushed along her cheek.

  “Little Angel, my heart. I love you.”

  Tears slipped down her face as she arched into every stroke. She clung to him as he buried his head against her and came, filling her. She cried out, her legs and arms wrapped tight around him.

  He lifted his head and wiped at her tears.

  “You left me,” he murmured with pain in his eyes. “Why?”

  With their bodies still joined, he wanted to talk? “I… we… we don’t fit. Our worlds—”

  “Fit.” His thumb traced her lower lip like he always had before, and she closed her eyes because she’d missed it so much. “I sold my house. Turned over that branch of my business to my brother Adam. I can start another branch anywhere. Anywhere you want to live. Here or anywhere.”

  She gaped at him and her heart skipped a beat, then hammered in her chest. “You sold your house? You loved that house.”

  He shook his head and a slow smile spread across his face. “I can build another house. One that fits us.”

  “Us?”

  “I’m not letting you go again. I love you, Angel.”

  She trailed her fingers along his face and he kissed her palm. “I love you, too.”

  A grin split his face. “I know you do.”

  She blinked, then burst out laughing.

  “Ah my Angel, you know what your laugh does to me.” He nuzzled her neck and she turned her face toward him.

  “How did you find me anyway?”

  He arched a brow and smirked. “Lila.”

  She laughed again as they rolled across the bed.

  KRUSH is a novella and #3 in the DirtSlap Series.

  FUEL DirtSlap Series #1 is Cassie and Thrand’s story.

  WRECK DirtSlap Series #2 is Ethan and Shelby’s story.

  Both available now at all major retailers.

  Two more DirtSlap novels are coming soon.

  Ashlynn Pearce

  Were it not for Hope, the Heart would Break…

  Once upon a time…You ain’t gonna believe this shit!

  (I always wanted to start a bio like that!) But seriously—scrap that, I’m not serious, but I do love to write. Create characters. Give them hope that there is something better around the corner. It’s my passion. I live and breathe stories. When I’m not arguing with the characters in my head (yes, I do that, you can ask my hubby who thinks I’m nuts btw), I’m taking care of said hubby, my two kids and a melee of furbabies. I’m Okie born and bred and, yes, we get a lot of twisters and, no, there aren’t any teepees around that I’ve seen.

  Come on over, say hi and see what I’m up to!

  www.AshlynnPearce.com

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