Wreck Page 9

  He opened his hand, and Spaz crumpled to the floor.

  He shook so hard he could barely stand. The only thing that seemed to squelch the noise in his head was Shelby’s soft cry. He didn’t care what Mick and Dooley would do. He just needed…he advanced on her.

  He pulled her to him, and she wrapped her arms around him. She didn’t reject him or say anything. He should disgust her, but instead her soft hands were cupping the back of his neck.

  “Come with me,” he mumbled into her hair. “Please.”

  She sniffed and nodded. He grabbed her hand, and they went out the back where his bike was parked. He hopped on and unlike last time, she got on without a word, wrapped her arms around him, and they took off.

  With her body pressed against his and the whip of the wind, the voices quieted to a chaotic hum. He quickly headed out of town through winding roads, and he didn’t care to where. He just wanted to get lost. Away from the wreck that was his life.

  He’d thought his nightmare was over. But watching Spaz reveal himself would forever be etched into his brain. Too many memories. All best forgotten and erased.

  But those hostile voices never left him in peace.

  He finally pulled into her driveway, waited for her to get off, and then kicked the stand down. Questions filled her eyes, but he marched down the slope behind her house.

  “Ethan,” her voice was quiet, but it punched right through the racket in his head.

  He stopped when they reached her back patio that led from the lowest level of her house. His heart pounded as he replayed Spaz pulling out that contact.

  “Talk to me.” He paced back and forth. Attempted to get some kind of control on emotions that spread like a black disease. He was failing miserably.

  “I don’t know what to say,” she whispered.

  Her voice…it was the key.

  “Anything. Everything. Your favorite color. Food. Friends. Weather. I don’t fucking care. But, please, talk to me.” He paced faster, his lungs working overtime. Cold sweat covered him and had him shaking.

  *

  Shelby watched Ethan coming apart. It was bad enough to hear what he had lived through, and then he almost killed that guy. She’d never in her life witnessed anything so violent. But instead of being afraid of him, she was afraid for him. She wanted to help him, but she had no clue how.

  She stepped towards him and reached for his hand, forcing him to stop his frantic pacing.

  “All right. But come sit, and I will talk.”

  He looked up at her, his dark eyes haunted by pain, fury, and fear. She swallowed and willed herself not to cry. She couldn’t help him if she cried. She led him to the two person cushioned patio furniture and sat down. He stumbled after her and fell in beside her.

  “My favorite color—”

  He pulled her sideways into his lap, wrapped his arms around her tightly, and buried his face in her neck. He didn’t kiss her. He just held her, his breath harsh and uneven against her skin.

  “Just make the voices stop.” His voice nothing but a guttural plea.

  She blinked the tears away, placed an arm over his wide shoulders, and looked up at the stars in the cloudless sky. “My favorite color is peach. I have a weakness for chicken alfredo pasta. Fall is the best season. All the leaves turning every color. Orange, red, and yellow.”

  She paused when he took a deep breath, and she couldn’t resist threading her fingers into his hair that brushed at his nape. His tense shoulders eased a little at her touch.

  “My best friend is Skye. I met her in high school. My mom and stepdad didn’t approve. I don’t know if it was because she wasn’t rich as hades or because she was the only friend I chose myself. All the other so-called friends were kids of my parents’ friends.”

  She knew she was rambling. Between not knowing what to say and the heat of his body so close, her thoughts were nothing but muddied water. Because once she touched his hot skin, she couldn’t seem to stop. Her hand slid up and down his neck, and his breathing evened out. She laid her cheek on his head.

  “I haven’t seen Skye in a long time. She’s in Vegas working for her cousin. I talked to her yesterday after you left. She said she might come visit. I would love to see her. I told her I was working at the bar. She was very happy I had gotten away from my parents. They’ve controlled every move and decision I’ve made my entire life ever since my mother got married and moved me to Texas. Insisting on taking care of Gran’s things is my first rebellion, so-to-speak.”

  He moved his head back and forth, his lips and hair brushed lightly across her skin. It caused a small whirlwind of awareness skittering through her body.

  “How old were you when you went to Texas?” His voice was a quiet brush of air along her neck.

  “Ten.”

  “I was nine when my mother died.”

  So many questions she wanted to ask, but she didn’t. She never liked her mother knowing her every move and thought, so she held back. If he wanted her to know, he would tell her.

  “I’m sorry,” she said.

  “I’m not.”

  She pulled back a fraction, shocked by his words. She didn’t get very far because he never loosened his hold. His head remained resting along her collarbone.

  “She never wanted me and made sure I never forgot it with every word she spoke. I know how I was conceived. She’d traded her body for drugs. From Spaz.” His laugh was the kind that made one’s skin crawl. “Then foster home after foster home.”

  He abruptly lifted his head and stared at her. “Why do you let me touch you?”

  She didn’t have time to absorb that tid-bit of information before he switched topics. His hand slid up her arm, and her breath caught.

  “Why?” he demanded.

  His fierce gaze searched her face, but she didn’t have an answer she was ready to admit. He made her feel in ways she’d not thought possible. And although she trusted him, she couldn’t go there. Not sure she’d ever be able to go there.

  “Me with my evil eyes. At least that’s what people said.” His hands cupped her face while his thumbs traced her jaw. “It was why I was never adopted. And it didn’t help I was twice the size of most boys my age.”

  “Why would they say that?” She was caught in his story and the way he was so gentle with her.

  He leaned in close. “Because only a demon would have eyes as black as mine.”

  Her brows furrowed. Why were people so cruel?

  “I’ve never once thought that.” She reached up and touched the corners of his eyes. “I’ll admit I’ve never seen eyes as dark as yours, but I’m very…fond of them.”

  His lips twitched. “Fond?”

  She nodded. No way was she telling him how much she loved getting lost in those dark depths.

  “You’re something, Brown Eyes.” He touched his lips to hers just barely before he pulled back. “I was twelve and living with a foster family with a crazed religious man.”

  His hands continued touching her. One down her neck, the other trailed along the bared skin at the small of her back. He dropped a kiss on her pulse just below her ear, and her heart beat double time.

  “He tried for days to exorcise the devil out of me…by any means possible. Only the possessed would have such black eyes. When that failed, he said ’tis better to pluck out the eye than sin with it’.”

  “No.” She shook her head, not wanting to hear. She fought the urge to cover her ears.

  “Demon eyes or not, I fought like the devil when I saw that knife. I ran away and hid. Was a while before the system found me.” He smirked at her. “So the eyes you are so ‘fond’ of are still there.”

  Revulsion filled her. She couldn’t grasp the horror. How could he say it so lightly? Like it was nothing more than a change in the weather. What was done to him, what he’d been through, was nothing to laugh about. All she knew was bits and pieces of his past…yet he was kind. He had a right to the anger she’d seen, but she’d never seen him be cruel jus
t because he could.

  Not like so many people she knew who had grown up with every luxury.

  She gripped his face so he knew she wasn’t joking.

  “Your eyes fascinate me. Pull me in. I could lose myself there.” Her words tumbled out before she could stop them. “I love your eyes.”

  She blinked at her confession and his stunned expression. She sucked in her lower lip. What had she just done? He growled and lifted her so she straddled him. Her breath rushed out at the intimate contact of their bodies.

  “You’re not meant for me, Shelby. So classy. You shouldn’t be anywhere alone with me.” He shoved his hands into her hair, his lips mere inches from hers. “But your scent. The way you bite that bottom lip makes me want to taste them every fucking time. Tell me why you let me touch you? Kiss you? You never answered me.”

  Gone. Any scrap of hesitancy or decorum that kept her from opening up dissolved.

  “I’ve never felt so out of control and protected in my life. I’ve never felt so safe to be whoever I want to be.” Her voice fell to a whisper. “I’ve never felt so many butterflies.”

  “Safe? After what you saw tonight. After everything I’ve told you. You feel safe?”

  “Yes.”

  He forced her to look at him. “I would have killed Spaz.”

  Tears pricked her eyes. She hadn’t really thought he would. But now? She wasn’t too sure, but there was one thing she was sure of. “You won’t hurt me.”

  His hands caressed her neck, and her hands fisted the sides of his shirt. She closed her eyes and sank deeper into his lap.

  His lips slanted hard over hers, and she opened for him. His kiss wasn’t gentle. He took, she gave. She was so far gone—it didn’t occur to her to fight her feelings. She panted when his lips left hers to skim her jaw.

  “Butterflies?”

  “Mhmm. So many.” Her head fell back to give him better access.

  The piercing in his tongue was cold compared to the hot kiss he placed on her nape. She whimpered, and an arm tightened around her waist. She braced her hands on his shoulders, then thrust them into his hair, pulling him closer.

  “You give me more than butterflies, darlin’.” His teeth scraped down her neck, making her crave more.

  His arousal pressed hard against her, and her hunger outweighed any fear that lingered in the back of her mind. She refused to let it control who she wanted to be right now. And right now she wanted to be Ethan’s.

  His hot breath fanned across her cheek. “Please tell me you’re not a virgin. I don’t think I could deal with that.”

  The odd question got her attention. “Ah, no. Why do you ask?”

  “Cassie,” he muttered and nipped at her lips.

  She placed a hand on his chest and narrowed her eyes. “What?”

  He grinned. “Thrand found out Cassie was a virgin…the hard way.”

  “Cassie?” She couldn’t believe it. She’d never met a girl so carefree.

  “Yup. What he said.”

  She wasn’t so naïve to think Ethan lacked in that department. She’d seen how girls reacted to him. She hesitated on her next words. “I don’t have much experience. I’d been…”

  She looked down, and he lifted her chin back up.

  “What?”

  “I was called cold. Lifeless.” She’d actually been called worse than that. By Andrew.

  His brows furrowed, then he gripped her hips and rocked against her.

  Her fingers dug into his arms.

  “Are you cold?”

  The slow burn he started settled low and spread like fire when he pushed his hips against her. Her lips parted in wonder, and she shook her head.

  “Whoever said that didn’t give you butterflies.” His hands slid up under the back of her shirt. His rough fingertips traced her spine, causing her to arch into him.

  She inhaled and thoughts scattered. Swarms of butterflies took flight.

  His hands clutched her shoulders and pulled her down. No way could she ignore how incredibly hot he made her. Or how badly she wanted his skin against hers.

  “Ethan,” she panted.

  She sank her hands in his hair and pulled his lips towards hers. She nipped at his lower lip, slid her tongue over his lip ring, and kissed him. Letting go of every doubt that kept her locked in her little bubble of insecurity.

  He groaned deep, causing her to whimper.

  She pulled back, then scrambled off his lap. His gaze never left her, and once again he reminded her of a tiger ready to pounce. She tucked her chin and smiled.

  “Come with me.” She wanted to sound confident, but it came out sounding like a soft request. She backed towards the sliding glass doors of her house.

  Chapter 10

  That smile sucked all the air out of him. It held a promise…of what, Ethan had no idea, but he wasn’t going to waste time trying to puzzle it out.

  Her delicate words enticed him and even though he knew she could do a hell of a lot better than him—he was enough of an asshole not to care. If she wanted him, then he would deliver.

  He shot towards her like his life depended on it and growled at her soft giggle. She hastily slid the door open and stepped inside before he could reach her.

  “You’re playing with fire¸” he said and shut the door behind him.

  Moonlight filled the room so he saw her pull a blanket off a couch and toss it onto the thick rug on the floor. She licked her lips, making him harder than he already was, then she peeled her shirt up over her head and dropped it.

  “Holy shit.” He was frozen in place at her boldness.

  Her honeyed skin glowed perfect in the light. A peach colored lacy bra cupped each breast. His fingers twitched when she unbuttoned her shorts and wiggled her hips…once, twice and those shorts were on the floor. She stepped out of them so she stood in nothing but panties that matched her bra and her short cowboy boots.

  She must have run out of courage, because she nervously moved her arms across her body.

  “Don’t.” No way in hell did she have any reason to hide. And he wanted to drink in the sight.

  She met his gaze and dropped her arms.

  He grabbed the back of his shirt and yanked it up over his head with one hand, let it go and took two steps so he could reach her.

  His fingers followed the rise of each breast above her bra. Her skin, like fine silk, trembled under his touch. He tracked down the side of her body and splayed his hand over her stomach and flare of her hip.

  She closed her eyes and swayed toward him.

  He was so far out of his fucking league.

  He tugged at a satin bra strap, and it fell off her shoulder. She turned her head to watch it fall and looked up at him. Those big eyes stared up at him with a hunger that matched his own. His lips tasted that bare shoulder, and she abruptly molded her body to his.

  Her hot little hands searched as they slid up around his neck and into his hair.

  “Fuck.” His control cracked. He fused his mouth to hers as his hands slid down to her ass.

  Her bare ass.

  His little shy girl wore a fucking thong.

  He picked her up, pushed her against a wall, and her legs locked around his waist. She ground into him, and he couldn’t get enough of her. Her scent, her taste, her little sounds of pleasure sucked him in. He never wanted in someone so bad in his fucking life.

  With one arm, he held her up and with the other, he flicked the hooks of her bra. It slid down, effectively trapping her arms. His hand cupped one bare breast, and she cried out.

  His mouth closed over the other.

  “Ethan,” she panted and ground her hips against his.

  Her body shook in his arms, her head falling back.

  “Darlin’, we are just getting started.” He lifted his head to stare into her flushed face.

  He whipped her off the wall, laid her on the blanket, and ripped away the dangling bra. Kneeling between her legs, he tugged off each of her boots and kissed the insi
de of her knee. Staring up her body with all the right curves, he couldn’t help but etch the memory in his mind. The way the light spread over her dark hair and caressed the rise and fall of her breasts.

  “Last chance. You all in?”

  He always gave them a choice. A last chance choice. He’d never had any choices as a kid, so it was ingrained in him. Didn’t matter that he was ready to explode. He may have said that to every woman he’d ever been with, even the trashy ones who mocked him for it. But he didn’t fucking care.

  This girl…no way in hell should she be spread out before him like an offering. She was what poets wrote about. And she said she loved his damned eyes.

  So he waited.

  In agony.

  While she bit her lip, slowly sat up on her knees, and scooted toward him until she straddled one of his thighs. Her hair trailed over her shoulders and brushed the tips of her pert nipples. He struggled for control.

  “Dammit, Shelby. You gotta say the fucking words,” he ground out. He wouldn’t move until she said them. His OCD wouldn’t let him.

  *

  Shelby didn’t understand how he didn’t know. His muscles jumped with the tension in his chest. What it cost him to remain still until she answered made her want him more. She leaned in, rubbed her chest against his, and kissed up his neck. He tasted salty and spicy, his scent dark and musky. He was shaking by the time her lips reached his ear.

  “I’m all in, Ethan.”

  In one solid move, she was on her back, his hands peeling off her panties, and his mouth on her wet core.

  Shock zinged through her as he tasted her. Drank from her, while the ball on his tongue had her hips bucking. She grabbed at his hair for some sort of anchor as she soared…her body had a will of its own.

  “Ethan,” she cried out. He shattered her. Turned her inside out, and she couldn’t catch her breath. But there was still a need. Something out of reach. “I need you.”

  Impatient, she pushed at his jeans, wanting, needing more. It wasn’t something she could even explain, because she’d never experienced it before.