Swerve: Boosted Hearts (Volume 1) (12 page)

She’d asked him a ton of questions, all, he’d noted, geared toward finding out how much money he had. He’d worked out her angle from the second she opened her mouth, so he’d held his tongue. Then Shay had woken up, and the woman had lashed out at her daughter, putting her down and talking to her like she was nothing. He’d held his tongue then, as well, though it had cost him to do it.

Meeting her mother had only amped up his protective instincts where Shay was concerned. How did someone so sweet and lovely come from such a poisonous bitch?

Until he knew the deal with the pair of them, how Shay felt about the woman, he’d keep his opinions to himself. He didn’t want to upset her.

Jesus. What the hell was he thinking?

He shoved a hand in his hair and signaled the turn into the garage. No, he’d keep his opinions to himself because it was none of his damn business. Getting involved with that part of her life wasn’t part of the deal. They were sleeping together. That’s it. Nothing more.

Shaking his head, he banged a fist against the steering wheel. If that were true, why was his stomach in knots? Why did he crave her every damn minute of every damn day, and not just because he wanted her in his bed?

It was dangerous thinking. Stupid and goddamn reckless.

He shut the thoughts down as the garage door jolted open. He’d called ahead, told Joe and Adam he was bringing in a car. They were there, waiting to switch out the VIN plates.

The last thing he wanted was to involve Shay in any of this mess. He was a thief, a criminal, and if he couldn’t find a way to shake Al, he would stay that way…or worse, wind up in prison.

He needed to end it. Tonight.

But as an image of Shay, naked and flushed, standing in front of him last night, filled his head—followed by the pain he’d seen in her beautiful eyes this morning after her mother’s cruel insults—he knew it wasn’t going to be that easy.

Not yet.

He just needed a little bit longer.

Shay parked the Honda outside Hugh’s house, or at least she thought it was his house. She checked her phone again to make sure she had the correct address. This was it.

It was late evening, the place lit up by streetlights. She couldn’t see much, but what she
could
see was—nice. Not what she was expecting at all. She hadn’t expected a family home. She’d thought maybe an apartment or a warehouse. Not a house you’d see Mom and Dad and their two-point-five kids stroll out of on their way to baseball practice.

She climbed out, slung her overnight bag across her shoulder and headed to the front door.

The nerves fluttering in her belly made her heart pound a little faster. Which was silly. They’d slept together several times now. What on earth was there to be nervous about?

She should be jumping up and down with excitement. A guaranteed night of hot sex and an evening away from her mother. She’d worked her butt off all day to get the website finished for her client, just so she’d have the whole night free for Hugh. Why she was close to freaking out, she had no clue.

Her palms were growing clammy, so she quickly wiped them on the sides of her dress and clutched the strap of her bag tighter. Reaching out, she knocked on the front door. The sound of footsteps hitting what had to be a hardwood floor was followed by the click and scrape of a lock being disengaged. Then the door swung open.

And there he was. In all his huge-masculine-sexy-growly glory.

Her mouth went dry.

His gaze did a sweep of her body as soon as he saw her, and her lower belly clenched, that heavy gaze setting off exquisite little zaps of electricity even lower. He had on a flannel shirt that was faded and soft looking, his sleeves rolled back to reveal those muscular, corded forearms. The jeans he wore were faded, too, and a nice, snug fit. Her gaze lowered. To his bare feet. God, even his feet were sexy. He reached out and grabbed her overnight bag off her shoulder, hefting its weight.

His brows lifted. “What’s this?”

“I have work in the morning. I thought I’d save time and get ready here.” Plus, that way, she wouldn’t have to see her mother until she got home later that afternoon to change for her shift at Woody’s.

His forehead creased. “Right.”

Was that the wrong thing to do? She’d just assumed since he always stayed the night at her place, she’d do the same at his. But what the hell did she know? She’d never had a casual affair before. “Um… I can… I don’t need to…”

“Inside, Shay.”

He held the door open for her, so she stepped over the threshold and watched him disappear upstairs with her bag.

She took in his place. The living room was fairly large and looked like it’d been recently decorated. Dove-gray walls, big leather couch and chairs. There was a solid-looking dresser against the wall, but there was nothing on it, and a coffee table that matched in front of the couch with a couple of car magazines and the TV remote sitting on top. She could see the kitchen at the end of the hall but not much from where she stood. The appliances looked new.

He came back down the stairs, and she turned to him.

“Are you redecorating?”

His dipped his chin. “Haven’t done much lately, though.”

He was watching her closely, but she couldn’t work out what he was thinking, which just made her nerves ten times worse.

“It’s a great house.”

“Thanks. You want a beer or something?”

What was going on here? He was behaving strangely. Standoffish. “Well, I thought maybe we could go grab something to eat? Maybe you’d like to head out…”

He shook his head. “Not in the mood to go out, babe. I got food here, or we can order in if you want?”

Did he even want her here? He wasn’t exactly making her feel welcome…or wanted. He’d moved closer but made no attempt to touch her. She swallowed the lump forming in her throat.

“Um…if you’d rather I not be here tonight, it’s fine, really. I’ll go.”

His hand shot out, and he grabbed the front of her dress, fisting the fabric, and dragged her up against him. “Had a shit day. You being here has improved the hell out of it.” He frowned, the grip on her dress tightening. “I don’t want you to go.”

“Okay,” she whispered. “If you’re sure?”

He sucked in a breath, and it came out a little shaky. “I’m sure.”

“So you haven’t eaten?”

“No.”

“Are you hungry?”

His eyes grew heavy and hot, tongue swiping over his lower lip. “Princess, I’m fucking starving.”

Eeek!
She wanted what that hungry gaze promised, badly. But she also wanted to do something nice for him, something she’d go out on a limb and assume he didn’t get very often.

“How about I make you dinner? Let me try to improve your bad day. I’ve been told I don’t suck in the kitchen.”

He shook his head. “You don’t have to do that. Let me order in.”

She stepped back, and his hand dropped.

“When was the last time someone cooked for you?”

He rubbed the back of his neck, his lack of an answer, answer enough.

“That’s what I thought. Let me check the state of your supplies, and we’ll decide from there.”

She felt him trail behind her as she walked into his kitchen. There was a big island in the middle. Dark countertops and white cabinets. More hardwood floors. It was lovely. The kind of kitchen she’d dreamed of but knew she’d never have. She’d probably be in her little trailer the rest of her life. Just like her grandmother. At least she could pick it up and move on if she wanted to.

“This is gorgeous. Did you do it yourself?”

He dipped his chin, watching her move around the room.

“Wow. It’s amazing. When I was a little girl, living in crappy places with Mom then later, in the trailer with Gran, I used to imagine having a home like this.” She trailed her fingers along the countertop. “Having a beautiful kitchen like this one. A mother who’d teach me to bake…” She cut herself off abruptly. She didn’t want to think about her mother, not here, not tonight. She shut down the memories creeping in and turned back to him, plastering a smile on her face.

Hugh wasn’t smiling, though; his brown eyes were locked on hers, expression back to unreadable. Intense.

“Anyway, it’s great. Have you redone the whole house all on your own?”

He continued to stare at her, unwavering, in a way that made her want to squirm.

“Yeah, still got the bedrooms to do and the upstairs bathroom.”

The way that dark gaze had locked on her, the thoughts she had no chance of deciphering moving behind his eyes, made her feel strange, not quite unsettled but…bewildered. They sent pleasurable tingles down her spine and at the same time made her want to head for the front door and run like hell.

Instead, she went to the fridge and opened it. “Oh, I can definitely whip up something easily from what you have here.”

She took out what she needed and started cooking. Hugh stayed where he was, leaning on the island, and watched her work. She found it hard to concentrate with his intense gaze on her. She sipped at the beer he’d given her and tried to stay focused, making small talk, trying to lighten the mood, random stuff, and definitely avoiding the subject of her mother. But the whole time, she felt that weighty stare on her. Following every movement. She didn’t need to look at him to know he was watching her; she felt the heat of his gaze licking across her skin, a tingle following in its wake.

When she finally handed him his plate, he stared down at it as if he’d never seen steak, potatoes and salad before. He lifted his gaze to hers, and she watched the way his Adam’s apple slid up and down his thick neck before he spoke.

“Thanks.”

His voice was rough, low, and her knees went weak. She forced a carefree smile when she was feeling anything but carefree. “No problem. Eat up.”

“Let’s eat in the living room.” He grabbed both of their plates and led the way, putting them on the coffee table then flicking on the TV.

They ate in charged silence. Only she didn’t know what it was charged with. Oh, there was lust. There was always lust. But there was something else, as well, something that confused her, made her feel fidgety, made her belly feel weird and squirmy.

Shay had only dished herself up a small portion, but she could have had less. The vibes Hugh was throwing off made her too nervous to eat. They finished up, and he stood, taking their plates to the kitchen.

When he walked back to the couch, he reached down, grabbed the remote, turned off the TV, and stared down at her. “Bedroom’s upstairs.”

Her breath seized, pulse starting to race. She took him in. His fingers were curled into fists, clenching and unclenching at his sides. He looked tense. He also didn’t reach for her, still not even attempting to touch her.

“Okay.”

She got to her feet, and he headed for the stairs, leading her up to his bedroom. His shoulders were stiff, forearms bunched tight. What the hell was going on? He said he wanted her here, that having her here improved his shitty day, but he was acting as if—she didn’t know what this was.

He pushed the door open, and she spotted her pretty polka-dot bag sitting on his bed. A huge California king. The bed looked wrong—too masculine with its navy-blue comforter and chunky, dark wood bedside tables—against the faded, peeling, floral wallpaper. The floor was hardwood but in need of sanding and finishing. He’d obviously gotten as far as pulling up the old carpet.

“I’m gonna go lock up.”

The butterflies in her belly erupted at the sound of his retreating steps. What did she do now?
Calm down, for starters.
Grabbing her toiletry bag, she went in search of the bathroom. It was just down the hall. She washed her face and brushed her teeth then went back to his room. He still wasn’t back. It felt weird just stripping off and getting into his bed. But she hadn’t brought her PJs. She hadn’t thought she’d need them. Now she wasn’t quite so sure.

She went to his dresser and grabbed the first T-shirt she could find. It was gray, faded and soft and smelled like Hugh. She quickly stripped off and pulled the shirt over her head then climbed under the covers and waited.

He seemed to take forever. Then she heard him moving around downstairs, and when he did finally come up, he went straight to the bathroom. He wasn’t in there long, though, and she couldn’t help but shrink under the blankets when his massive body filled the doorway.

His eyes said it all.

Oh, yes.
He definitely wanted her there.

Things heated up down below—they’d been at a low-level, delicious hum since she’d walked in the front door, but now, with that look… She was on fire.

He didn’t say a thing, just stared at her as he reached back and yanked off his shirt. She stifled a moan at the sight of his bare chest, all that thick muscle, the dark hair dusting his pecs—that enticing trail that stopped at the top of his jeans. She dropped her gaze as his fingers went to work on the zipper, and this time, she did moan. His erection was heavy and thick through the soft denim, and she unconsciously licked her lips as he slid down his jeans, freeing that beautiful cock.

He shoved off his jeans, kicking them aside, and before she knew what she was doing, she’d shoved back the covers and climbed to her knees. The soft fabric of his shirt swamped her, felt delicious against her hard nipples, making her squirm.

He started toward her but stopped in his tracks suddenly. “What are you wearing?”

His voice was nothing but grit and the sexiest thing she’d ever heard. She looked down at herself. “I didn’t think you’d mind?”

He made a rough sound. “I don’t.” He came closer, so he was standing at the edge of the bed. “Come here.”

She moved toward him on her knees until she was in front of him.

He gripped the bottom of his shirt, eyes locked on her the whole time, and dragged it up and over her head. “You can wear it whenever you want, but right now, I want you naked.” He cupped her breasts in his huge hands. “Wanna watch these bounce while I’m buried inside you, when I fuck you nice and hard.”

Her nipples puckered tighter. Hugh was intense—she’d learned that much in their short association—but tonight, he was even more so. She shivered.

He dragged his thumb over a tightened peak, and she shivered again.

“You like that? You want me to fuck you hard, use my size, my strength to get you off? Work this lush body any way I want?”

She squeezed her legs together and licked her suddenly dry lips again.

“Answer me.”

“Y-yes.” She didn’t know what was going on here, why he was acting this way, but she loved it.

“Good girl.” His hand slid up to the side of her neck, and he gave her a little squeeze, thumb sliding over her jaw. “Now, get on your hands and knees for me. Before I let you bounce on my cock, you’re gonna let me fuck your mouth.”

Oh, God.
She scrambled to do as he said. She wanted to take him in her mouth, badly. He was so tall that even on her hands and knees, him standing beside the bed, she was perfectly lined up with his massive erection. He was so hard, his penis stood straight up against his stomach, the head fat and purple. She tilted back her head and looked up at him. His nostrils flared as he brushed back her hair then fisted it and moved closer. Grabbing his cock with his free hand, he angled it down, so the head brushed her lips.