Up to Me Page 20
When he’s done, he sets a bottle of pills on the nightstand, tells Nash to take one three times a day for two weeks then he nods to him and gets up to leave.
I walk him to the door, mainly because I still don’t trust the guy. He steps onto the stoop, turns back to give me one curt nod and then just walks away. That’s it.
Killers—they’re a different breed. That’s for sure.
I wait until the females are done fussing over Nash before I make any suggestions.
“Well, I guess it’s time we all get some rest.”
“Marissa, are you sure you won’t take my bed? You’ve been through so much…”
She smiles at Olivia, obviously touched by her offer. “No, I think I’ll stay with him a little longer. You two go ahead.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’m positive. That couch is really comfortable anyway.”
“It really is,” Olivia agrees. They smile at each other, sharing some sort of inside joke it seems. It makes me respect Olivia that much more that she can so easily and readily bury the hatchet with someone who’s treated her so badly. But that’s just who she is. It’s part of what makes her so incredible.
“All right, I guess we’ll head to bed then. I need a shower and then I’ll probably be out like a light.”
“Goodnight,” Marissa says, walking around the bed to perch on the side opposite Nash. “Hey, Liv?”
Damn! We were almost home free, I think as Olivia stops near the door.
She turns to look at Marissa. Again, it seems even I can see the difference in Marissa. Maybe this was just the thing she needed to jerk a knot in her ass.
“Thanks.”
They share another look. Olivia smiles. Marissa smiles. “That’s what family’s for.”
Finally, we escape Nash and Marissa. Olivia doesn’t say much, just gathers up some stuff and takes it into the bathroom. A few minutes later, I hear the shower cut on. A few minutes after that, I hear it shut off. Being the guy that I am, I’m a little pissed that I wasn’t invited. Of course, I could’ve just gone in and joined her anyway, but if she’s still irritated with me, that wouldn’t be the wisest move.
I take off my clothes, climb into bed and turn out the lights, settling in to await her. We’re going to hash this out before morning, one way or the other.
Quietly, the bathroom door opens. Her room is very dark and the door is closed, so I can’t see her, but I can hear her light footsteps as she approaches the bed. Gently, she peels back the covers and eases in beside me. I wait until she gets comfortable before I speak.
“There’s something I want you to understand,” I begin. I hear her sharp inhalation. “What?”
“You scared the crap out of me.”
“Did you think I’d just go right to sleep, knowing you’re upset?”
I’m a little ticked off at that.
“I just don’t understand how you could care so little about what happens to Marissa.”
“There are several reasons, actually. One, I know what she’s like. Two, I can’t so easily forget the way she’s treated you. And three, she’s not you. I’m sorry, but you’re my first priority.”
“Even so, how could you have let her come here alone, knowing it’s not entirely safe?”
“Olivia, she’s a grown woman. She can do whatever she wants to. And it’s not like she had nowhere safe to go. She could’ve stayed with her father. She just didn’t want to.”
“I just don’t see how you could be so cold about it.”
“I can tell you how. This isn’t about Marissa. It never was. It’s about you. Keeping you safe. I’m not in love with her. I’m in love with you. Can’t you understand that I don’t want to live without you? That I can’t live without you? What the hell would I do if something happened to you? I couldn’t let you come here with her by yourself. I couldn’t take the risk. I’ll never take the risk if the risk is losing you. Never. Why can’t you understand that?”
I’ve gotten louder in my agitation, which makes the silence when I’m done much more pronounced.
She doesn’t respond, but I feel the bed shift as she moves. Then, I feel her hands on my stomach first, soft and warm. “Cash?” she whispers.
“Yeah?”
Her hands slide up my chest and circle my neck as she stretches out on top of me. She presses her lips to mine in a feather light kiss. “That’s all you had to say.”
“You didn’t give me a chance to say it,” I mumble against her mouth.
“Next time, lead with that,” she says. I feel her lips spread against mine. I know she’s grinning.
Quickly, I coil my arms around her and roll her onto her back, settling between her spread legs. She’s naked and it takes all of my self-control not to plunge right into her. Her body beckons me like a warm bath on a cold night. Her soul beckons me like a refreshing oasis in the dry desert. And her heart beckons me like a safe harbor beckons a lost ship.
“You mean lead with the fact that I’m in love with you?” I say as I tease her entrance with my already stiff and throbbing head.
“Yes. Always, always lead with that.”
“I’m in love with you, Olivia Townsend,” I whisper as I ease into her. I feel her sigh and I echo it.
“I’m in love with you, Cash Davenport.”
I pull out of her until only my tip rests within her then I slide back in, a little deeper this time. “Promise you’ll never leave me. Stay with me, Olivia. Come home with me tomorrow and stay.”
She pauses, but only for a second. When she speaks, I can hear the smile in her voice.
“I’ll stay with you as long as you want me.”
“I’ll want you with me forever. I never want to spend another night without you. Ever. I can’t stand the thought of something happening to you. I can’t stand the thought of us fighting. I can’t stand the thought of you being anything other than deliriously happy. With me.”
“Then consider me deliriously happy. With you. Always.”
“Always,” I repeat as I cover her mouth with mine. She sighs again as I move inside her. This time, I breathe it in, her breath becoming a part of me as much as she herself has become a part of me. And that’s the way I like it, because I don’t plan on giving either of them back. Not now, not ever.
EPILOGUE- Nash
Between waking up in a strange place and the drugs that damn back-alley doctor gave me, I’m a little disoriented when I open my eyes. The first thing I notice is that there’s a great smelling woman curled up against my side. The second thing I notice is that her leg draped over mine has given me a raging hard-on.
Details of what happened and where I am come back in a slow trickle. I’m not in much pain, which surprises me. I figured that bastard probably stuck me with a knife dipped in horse shit or something. But I feel pretty all right as far as that goes.
Until I hear the familiar voice of my brother from the other room, that is. He’s talking quietly on the phone.
“Did you do this?”
A pause.
“You know exactly who this is,” he growls. “Did. You. Do. This?”
Another pause.
“Trust you? You’re crazier than —”
I hear a sigh that turns into another growl before he mutters, “What the hell are we gonna do now? I have to make adjustments to protect the people I love.”
It doesn’t take a genius to figure out what he’s talking about—my little motorcycle accident. Cash worries too much about everyone else.
But not me.
I have one mission. Just one. And it’s looking more and more like my plans to destroy the organization that took Mom’s life will be a solo effort.
If there’s one thing I’ve learned in life since I left home seven years ago, it’s that I can trust no one.
And that includes family.
TO BE CONTINUED IN BOOK 3
With Nash
Turn to the back for an excerpt of the
New York Times Best
selling Novel
By M. Leighton
THE WILD ONES
A FINAL WORD
A few times in life, I’ve found myself in a position of such love and gratitude that saying THANK YOU seems trite, like it’s just not enough. That is the position that I find myself in now when it comes to you, my readers. You are the sole reason that my dream of being a writer has come true. I knew that it would be gratifying and wonderful to finally have a job that I loved so much, but I had no idea that it would be outweighed and outshined by the unimaginable pleasure that I get from hearing that you love my work, that it’s touched you in some way or that your life seems a little bit better for having read it. So it is from the depths of my soul, from the very bottom of my heart that I say I simply cannot THANK YOU enough. I’ve added this note to all my stories with the link to a blog post that I really hope you’ll take a minute to read. It is a true and sincere expression of my humble appreciation. I love each and every one of you and you’ll never know what your many encouraging posts, comments and e-mails have meant to me.
http://mleightonbooks.blogspot.com/2011/06/when-thanks-is-not-enough.html
Other books by M. Leighton
Beginnings: An M. Leighton Anthology
Blood Like Poison: For the Love of a Vampire
Blood Like Poison: Destined for a Vampire
Blood Like Poison: To Kill an Angel
Caterpillar
Down to You
Fragile
Gravity
Madly
Madly & the Jackal
Madly & Wolfhardt
The Reaping
The Reckoning
The Wild Ones
Wiccan
Follow me
Blog: http://mleightonbooks.blogspot.com
Facebook: M. Leighton, Author
Twitter: mleightonbooks
Goodreads: M. Leighton, Author
Contact me
m.leighton.books@gmail.com
THE WILD ONES
By
M. Leighton
CHAPTER ONE- Cami
Sipping my beer, I look around at the familiar scene. If the honky tonk music blaring from the speakers in the ceiling hadn’t been enough to scream COUNTRY BAR, the sea of cowboy hats would have been. I smile as I adjust the black one that sits atop my own head. I love being incognito. Even if, by chance, someone I know stumbles into the smoke-filled dive, they’d never believe it was me looking out from beneath the brim.
Something hits the back of my barstool—hard—just as I put the glass to my lips. Ice cold beer pours down my chin and straight into my cleavage. I suck in a breath.
“’Scuse me,” a deep voice rumbles in my ear. Two hands grip my upper arms and pull me back, keeping me from tipping right out of my seat. I’m looking down at my soggy jeans and t-shirt when I feel the hands disappear. Half a second later, a face appears in my line of sight. “I’m so sorry. Are you okay?”
My fingers stop plucking wet cotton away from my chest and I stare. Quite rudely, I might add. I’m speechless. Literally. And that, like, never happens to me.
The most amazing eyes I’ve ever seen are staring back at me. They are pale greenish-gray, rimmed in sooty lashes and filled with concern.
A sharp jab to my shin makes me let out the breath I hadn’t been aware of holding. I see my best friend Jenna’s head poke out from behind the mystery face. I know she kicked me and I know she’s trying to get my attention, but I can’t look away from these eyes long enough to glare at her.
God, his eyes! I’ve never seen eyes that make me want to gasp and giggle and do a strip tease all at once. But these do.
They flicker down, letting me go just long enough to collect my wits. I find very few of them. They are well and truly scattered. When he looks back up at me, his eyes are wrinkled at the corners. He’s smiling. And holy hell, what a smile it is!
“Does it make me a bad person for liking your shirt better this way?”
I glance down at myself. My dark pink bra is plainly visible through the now-wet paper thin material of my pale pink shirt. So are my very erect nipples. I blush, mortified.
Why, oh why did I wear a light pink t-shirt with a dark pink bra?
Because you can’t see your bra through it when it’s dry, dumb ass.
A thumb brushes my right cheek. “God, that’s sexy,” he whispers. Against my will, my eyes fly to his face. His smile has died to a lopsided grin that is devastation in its purest form. “I’ve never made a girl blush before.”
I laugh nervously, struggling to find my voice, to find my dignity. “Somehow I doubt that,” I say softly.
“Wow! The hair of a devil, the face of an angel and the voice of a phone sex operator. You really are the perfect woman.”
To my utter humiliation, my cheeks burn even hotter. Curse my fair skin!
Reaching into his pocket, Hot Stranger pulls out a couple bills and slides them across the bar. “Another of whatever…” He trails off, looking at me in question, waiting for me to fill in the blank.
“Cami,” I say, trying to hold back my grin.
Smooth way of getting my name. Chalk one up for Hot Stranger.
“Another of whatever Cami is having.” He turns back to me, a wicked gleam in his smoky eyes. “Sorry about your drink. Not so much about your shirt, though,” he admits candidly.
Willing myself not to blush again, I tilt my head. “So, do clumsy strangers have names in this place? Or are you just called ‘bull in china shop’?”
The lopsided grin comes back. “Patrick, but my friends call me Trick.”
“Trick? As in trick or treat? That kind of trick?”
He laughs and my stomach flutters. It actually flutters. “Yep. That kind of trick.” He sobers and leans in close to me. “Cami, can I ask a favor?”
I’m breathless again. He’s so close I can count every hair in the stubble that dusts his tan cheeks. For just a second, his clean manly scent overrides the cigarette smoke and stale beer smell of the bar.
I lose my voice—again—so I nod.
“Pick ‘treat.’ Please, for the love of God, pick ‘treat’.”
Like an idiot, I say nothing. I do nothing. I simply stare. Like a…a…well, like an idiot.
He makes a disappointed noise with his lips then starts shaking his head. “Too bad. Woulda made my night.”
He straightens, takes a step back and smiles at me again. “Nice to meet you, Cami,” he says, and then he turns and melts into the crowd.