Crashed (Entangled Indulgence) (16 page)

Chapter Twenty

Alex lay back on the couch and watched Richard Gere open a velvet-covered jewelry box, then snap it down on Julia Roberts’s fingers. It was supposed to be some iconic, funny, unscripted part of this scene. In her opinion, it just made Edward look like a major jerk.
Here, desperate prostitute girl, look what I have for you.

Snap.

Sucker! Wouldn’t want you to forget your place now.

What a complete and utter asshole.

Her phone started up again. A picture of Deacon flashed on the screen. He was smiling. The one with his elusive dimple on display.
Speaking of assholes.
She hit end and cut off the call.

Groaning, she squeezed her eyes closed, trying to make her mind shut the hell up.
Nope, not working.
As hard as she tried, she couldn’t get the look on his face out of her head, his words on constant loop, banging around her skull.

I’m in love with Alex.

She scrubbed her hands over her face. He didn’t mean it. How could he?

Walking into that room, after seeing those pictures—the pain had been acute, so much so, she’d felt like she was floating outside her body, a bystander to her own pathetic life. But she’d refused to let him see how much his betrayal had broken her. Her only thought had been making him pay, humiliating him the way he had her. Making him hurt, too, the only way she knew how.

And then he’d said it, said he loved her, and she’d freaked out.

Deacon was probably still getting his balls served to him by his irate sisters. God, she hadn’t meant to tell them, but seeing those pictures broke something inside her, and before she knew what she was doing, she’d spilled her guts. The last thing she wanted was to mess up Piper and Rusty’s relationship with their brother.

Jesus, her head hurt.

Rolling off the couch, she climbed to her feet and dusted potato chip crumbs off her shirt.
Gah! What a mess.
And she wasn’t just talking about the carpet. She looked down at herself, still in the ridiculous outfit Rusty had shoved her in the previous evening. “What was I thinking?”

That was the problem—her brain hadn’t been in the driver’s seat.

Dragging her feet to the bathroom, she looked in the mirror. Mascara was smudged down her face, hair a tangled rat’s nest. She was rocking the whole
Return of the Living Dead
look. Nice.

Clean yourself up, girl. Dust yourself off and keep moving forward.
Jacob’s voice echoed in her mind. He’d helped her through some of the worst times of her life. Made sure she didn’t stumble and fall, no matter what obstacle was thrown in her way. It’s what she did. She didn’t know how to do anything else. If she stopped, let the pain take hold—stopped moving forward—she felt like she might turn to stone, might get back on the couch and never get off again.

She couldn’t avoid her friends forever. Tomorrow morning cars would arrive at the garage, jobs that needed to be done. Time wouldn’t stop because her heart was broken. She couldn’t spend the rest of her life hiding from everyone.

She needed to talk to Deke.

He’d said he loved her, but she wouldn’t,
couldn’t
believe in it. Her feelings hadn’t mattered when he’d gone back to his ex. He’d played them both. No one wanted to be the other woman. And that’s what he’d made the both of them.

She had no love for Deacon’s ex-wife, and she didn’t know the cause of his and Emily’s split, but the cold way he’d shut her down in front of that room full of people…no one deserved that, not even Emily.

He’d lied and he’d cheated. She still found it hard to believe. She knew Deacon was ruthless in the boardroom, but she’d never dreamed he could be just as ruthless with the people around him, the people who cared for him. He had two sisters he loved and respected. His actions made no sense.

Stop.

She slammed the brakes on the direction her thoughts were taking. There was no excuse for it. No matter how out of character it seemed, the proof was in black and white in a crumpled heap in her recycle bin.

After a long, hot shower, she pulled on her favorite baggy Led Zeppelin T-shirt and felt slightly more human. Finger combing her damp hair, she headed back to the living room. Sleep wasn’t an option, not yet. Right then she thought she might never sleep again, because every time she closed her eyes, she saw him. Those intense green eyes, making her feel things she’d tried to deny—silently telling lies, making promises that meant nothing. Making her hope, making her believe in him.

Bang. Bang. Bang.

Alex jumped and spun around at the sound of a fist connecting with her door.

“Alex, get down to the workshop,” Rusty called through the door. “Quickly!” That was followed by the sound of her friend’s boots pounding back down the stairs. A surge of adrenaline shot though her veins. Was Piper hurt?

She didn’t muck around, shoved her feet in her work boots, flung her door open, and ran down after her. When she pushed open the garage door the place was pitch-dark. Walking in, she groped for the lights. “Rusty? Piper? What’s going on?”

The door banged shut behind her, followed by the sound of the lock engaging. “Hey!” She threw the switch, and the overhead lights blinked to life, making her squint against the harsh brightness. She tried the door. Locked. Those bitches had locked her in. She banged on the steel door. “Let me the hell out.”

Nothing. Complete silence.

The sound of a car door opening behind her had her freezing on the spot.

No. They wouldn’t, would they?

“Alex?”

Bitches!

Deacon’s usually smooth, deep voice was a hell of a lot deeper than usual, and not as steady. She couldn’t make herself turn around.

“Look at me, Alex, please?”

His voice was closer that time, but she remained rooted to the spot. “I don’t want to,” she whispered.

If I look at you, I’ll break.

Then he was right behind her, his tight stomach, his chest, plastered against her back. She shivered as the heat of his body soaked through her thin T-shirt. His hands snaked around to rest on her belly, and he dropped his forehead to her shoulder. “Please, Alex.” He nuzzled the side of her neck and sucked in a deep breath. “Please let me explain.”

She rested her head against the cool steel in front of her, trying to fight the way her body reacted to his touch, how right it felt. With a strength she didn’t know she possessed, she removed his arms from around her waist and stepped away. “There’s nothing to say. Nothing that can change what’s happened.” She crossed her arms and shuffled a step to the side to get some much-needed space. “I saw the pictures, Deacon. I know about you and Emily. I know you’re sleeping with her.”

He shoved a hand in his hair, making it stick up on one side. She took him in. He looked like shit. Stubble darkened his jaw, and his eyes were bloodshot, like he’d had about as much sleep as she had. He was wearing the same trousers and shirt he’d had on at the charity event, only he’d lost the jacket and tie and the sleeves were rolled up to his elbows.

“There is no me and Emily.” His eyes begged her to believe him, and God, she wanted to, but how could she? “I haven’t slept in the same bed with my ex-wife… I haven’t had sex with my ex-wife since we were married, and that side of our relationship fizzled out after the first few months.” He swallowed, throat working. “I’ll understand if you choose to walk away after the lies, the secrets, the fucked-up way I went about everything, but I need to explain. Will you let me?”

Deacon had never talked about his marriage with Emily or the reason it fell apart, but she’d always wondered, had guessed it had to be something pretty bad for Deacon to be so closed off about it, especially with his sisters. “What happened?”

He released a shaky breath. “It’s kind of hard to get a hard-on over a woman who lies about being pregnant to get you back, manipulating you into marrying her because she knows the pain and guilt you felt when your mother left…that because I’d opened my mouth, told my father what I’d seen, my sisters grew up without their mother. She knew I wouldn’t want that for my own child.” He shoved both hands in his pockets. “I told her, you see, about you and me.”

Alex stood frozen, struggling to take it all in.

“She called that morning, the morning after you gave yourself to me.” His voice shook on the last word, so much longing in his gaze, she struggled for breath. “I told her that she had to stop calling, that I was in love with you. She broke down, told me she was pregnant. After that, after she told me she was carrying my child…” He shook his head. “I didn’t think I had any other choice. So I went back to her. And fuck, leaving you that day…it was the hardest thing I’ve ever done.” His nostrils flared. “I found out months later there was no baby, never had been. I told her we were through.”

Alex was stunned. How could Emily do that to him? Lie and scheme like that? “What happened?” she whispered.

“She threatened to kill herself if I left. If I told anyone what she’d done. Convinced me she’d fall apart if I didn’t stay. I planned to leave when she was better, but every time I thought she was doing okay, that finally I could leave, she’d relapse. I was stuck in that nightmare for four years.

“Then I caught her in bed with Steve—another ploy, this time an attempt to make me jealous, to get our relationship back. It blew up in her face. I left.”

“Oh my God.” He’d been through hell because of that selfish bitch.

“It gets worse. I found out yesterday there’s nothing wrong with her, there never was. She’s been manipulating me all these years. Her family cut her off after what happened between us, and she was biding her time with Steve until I wised up and took her back. She used her fake illness to keep me tied to her.” He held Alex’s gaze. “But you threw a monkey wrench in the works and screwed up her plan to win me back. So she pulled the suicide card again. That’s why I was with her, why I couldn’t tell you what was going on. I was afraid what she’d do—that she’d harm herself. She gave me no other choice. I was trying to convince her to get the help I thought she needed.”

He moved in then, brushing her hair over her shoulder, cupping the side of her neck, gently moving his thumb along her jaw. “I’ve loved you since that first time, Alex.” He shook his head. “No. If I’m honest, long before then. But you were still so young, and I knew you weren’t ready for what I wanted with you. Then I broke up with Emily, and as soon as I saw you again, I knew I had to have you, that I couldn’t wait any longer.”

Her head was spinning.
He loved her. He had always loved her.
“What about blackmailing me into your bed?”

“You don’t trust easily, Alex, and I’d already hurt you. I didn’t know how else to get you to give me another chance, to spend time with me, to let me love you like you deserved.”

“You were never going to sell this place?”

He shook his head and pulled out his cell phone, opened his text messages, and showed her a reply from David Cannon.

Thanks for the referral. My car looks amazing.

“You sent Mr. Cannon to us?”

“No.” He shook his head. “I referred him; the decision was his. I barely know the man, so this wasn’t a favor to me. We aren’t business associates. I just met him through a friend.”

“He’s not the first, is he?”

He shook his head. “I believe in you, in this place.”

She sucked in a breath, the lump clogging her throat suddenly escaping on a giant sob. All the emotion she’d held back over the last few days—the last few years—came rushing forward. She had no hope of holding it back. She shook her head. “No Emily?”

“No Emily.” He ran his thumb over her lower lip.

“And you…you love
me
?”

“Yes, I love you. So fucking much,” he choked.

Her body started to tremble so hard her legs felt weak. He pulled her into his arms, hands going to her butt. He lifted her off the ground, and she wrapped her legs around his waist, arms circling his neck. Hot tears streamed down her face and soaked into his shirt.

He kissed the top of her head. “I know I went about this all the wrong way, and I’ve acted like a jealous, overbearing asshole, but I promise you this—it stops now, baby. You didn’t deserve any of it. I let my past get in the way of our future. I won’t let that happen again.”

She tightened her arms around his neck. “I’m not your mom, and I’m not Emily, Deke,” she choked. “I would never hurt you like that. Ever.”

“I know, baby.”

She vaguely felt him move. Heard him kick the door, tell Rusty to open up. Then they were going up the stairs to her apartment, and the next thing she knew, Deacon was lowering her onto her bed.

She’d been so damn blind, had turned Deacon into some kind of power-hungry monster in her head. All to protect herself from the truth, a truth she’d been too afraid to face. She’d acted like a coward, had pushed him away all those months ago instead of taking a risk, afraid to love, to be loved in return.

But she’d known, deep down under all the baggage, the pain she hid behind, she’d known that Deacon would never hurt her, would never do anything to hurt his sisters. She knew this because she knew him.

And because of three magical, wonderful words.

Deacon loved her.

Chapter Twenty-One

Deacon removed her boots, letting them fall to the floor. Crawling up the mattress, he came down on top of her. It felt so good to have her beneath him. He’d been craving this, being able to touch her, feel her warm, smooth skin beneath his fingers. She felt small, almost fragile right then, and he slid his arms around her, holding her to him.

Jesus, he couldn’t believe she was giving him another chance, that she was finally his.

“Alex?” Her body shook, and her eyes were screwed shut, big fat tears rolling down her cheeks. She was killing him. “Baby…” He tried to brush away her tears but more replaced them instantly. “Sweetheart, please don’t cry… What can I do? How can I make it better?”

“Kiss it b-better,” she sobbed.

Her legs were wrapped around his waist, and he became aware of the heat between her thighs, the way she was flush against his abs, scalding him through her panties. He groaned. “You want me to kiss it better?”

“Y-yes.”

She wiggled beneath him, and he chuckled. “Where do you want your kiss?” He lifted up and dragged her T-shirt higher, revealing her taut belly. Leaning down, he licked and sucked the smooth skin, holding her immobile when she wiggled harder. Trailing hot kisses across her ribs, he moved the shirt higher. “What about here?”

She moaned softly when he wrapped his lips around a peaked nipple and gently sucked. She smelled of arousal and the vanilla soap she used, and something more, something purely Alex. His cock throbbed against his zipper, starving for more, desperate to get inside her. He kissed and sucked, then moved to the other side, to that sexy purple bar piercing her perfect little nipple, tonguing it gently, making her writhe and gasp.

“You like that?” He blew on her damp flesh, cursing under his breath when she lifted her hips, rubbing herself against his stomach.

Fingers threading through his hair, she pulled the strands at the same time, holding him to her. “Harder,” she whimpered.

He did as she asked, sucking harder and tugging gently until her hips were thrusting against him. “You want to come, sweetheart?”

“Yes. Please, Deacon.”

He’d gotten a glimpse of her like this, so beautifully vulnerable, unguarded, when he’d made love to her in the garage, but he’d never seen her this way, this open, this free of restraint. She took his breath away, humbled him. “You’re so beautiful.” He dragged her shirt up and over her head, needing her completely bared to him, then slid her panties down her legs. She reared up, tugged at the buttons of his shirt, and he took over, yanking it over his head, then made quick work of the rest of his clothes.

When he covered her again, he groaned at the feel of her bare skin against his. Her legs wrapped around his hips, and she ground against him.
Jesus.
He was hanging on by a goddamned thread.

Sliding a hand up the side of her neck, fingers sinking into her dark, silky hair, he took her mouth, kissing her like he’d wanted to the minute she walked into the garage. She returned his kiss, wild and hungry, rubbing herself against him, gasping into his mouth. Alex was almost frantic in her need, desperate for him. He loved it, loved her like this. Loved her. And as much as he wanted to hold her down, take charge, pound out all the frustration, the hurt he’d caused her, he knew what she needed.

Wrapping his arms around her, he rolled to his back. Her hands immediately went to his cock, fisting him, positioning herself over him. “That’s it, Alex, take it.” Her hands landed on his shoulders, and she sank down hard. Jesus, she was slick and hot, and wrapped around him so tight he was close to losing it. Flinging her head back, she cried out, hips undulating in a way that made him hiss through gritted teeth. “Take what you need, baby. I’m all yours. I’ve always been yours.”

The tears had slowed, but another sob broke past her swollen lips. Her fingers flexed, nails biting into his skin when she ground down hard, making them both moan. Then her eyes finally opened, those sexy, exotic eyes still glistening from her tears holding his. She didn’t speak, just held his gaze as she moved on top of him, taking what she needed.

The woman was beautiful. Completely bare. Dark hair, wild around her shoulders. She took his breath away. But it was her eyes that held him transfixed—they hid nothing, gave him everything, showed him everything. He slid his hands up her thighs, gripped her hips, and thrust up into her. “Say you’re mine, Alex. Say it.”

Her movements grew frantic, her breathing erratic, skin flushed with her fast-approaching climax. He felt her tighten around him and slid his thumb up and over her clit, massaging the tight bud. “I’m not going anywhere, sweetheart. Ever. I promise you that.”

Her lips trembled.

“Say it,” he whispered.

“Yours. I’m yours,” she cried, then threw her head back, screaming his name as she came.

He didn’t take his eyes off her, not when his balls drew tight, and not when his own release tore through him, turning him into nothing but a gasping, shaking mess beneath her.

He didn’t know how long they lay there afterward, her body draped over his, her breath tickling his throat with every exhale. He threaded his fingers though her hair and waited. Waited for her to process everything he’d said, to allow it to sink in. He wasn’t going anywhere. Alex was his.

Finally she lifted her head and looked down at him. “So, you and me, huh?”

He couldn’t read her expression. “Yep.”

“No arrangement, no blackmail. Just…you and me.”

“Uh-huh.”

She lowered her head back to his chest, quiet again. After several minutes, he gave her hair a tug. “You got something to add to that?” His heart felt like it was pounding in his throat, damn near choking him.

When she lifted up again, she was grinning. “Oh, did I forget something?”

“You damn well know you did.” He gave her ass a light slap.

She tapped her finger against her lip. “Let me see. Oh, I know… Yes, Deacon, you
are
a stud machine in the sack.” Her grin got wider. “Better?”

“Don’t mess with me, woman, not after the last couple days. Now say it, or I’ll be forced to punish you.” He flipped her onto her back and stared down at her. “I need to hear you say the words.” He knew he sounded desperate, needy as hell, but that was because he was.

Her grin faded, and her eyes grew serious. She cupped his face in her hands and held his gaze. “Deacon West, I have loved you since I was fourteen years old. That has never changed, can never change. I will always love you. Always.”

He sucked in a breath. “Jesus.” Then, groaning, he buried his face against her throat. She rubbed his back while he pulled himself together enough to talk. But when he lifted up again, he couldn’t find the words. There weren’t any to express what he felt in that moment, so he kissed her, pouring everything he felt into that kiss. And when she wrapped her legs around his hips, urging him to take her again, he didn’t think he had ever been—could ever be—happier. He sank inside her and made love to his woman, reassuring her, loving her the way he knew she needed.

“You and me,” he whispered into her hair.