All or Nothing (7 page)

Against her better judgment, she bit her inwardly cupped lower lip and whistled. “Over here, Sparky, before your daddy kills you.”

The pup was grateful, running awkwardly on huge paws, but if the suddenly flying wheel rims were any indication, Lucas wasn’t.

“I didn’t ask you to do this.” Not that she ever did. She had a deal with the local junker to take a truckload of sortables off his hands each month. Lucas always showed up on sort day to load up her truck at the junkyard and unload it in her metal yard. It was just one other thing she’d have to learn to do without him. She hadn’t had the energy to do it since their “date”. Hard to believe it happened less than a week ago.

She circled the truck, putting her hand on the bed wall while he reached in for another sink. He dragged it toward himself, every muscle in his arms and torso flexing with the effort and all but knocking the wind out of her.

Huffing, she grabbed the edge of the sink and tugged it her way. “Stop. I don’t want you to do this.”

“This isn’t about you,” he bit out. He wouldn’t even look at her, but his leather gloves made a loud noise as he tightened his grip.

“Like hell it isn’t.”

“What I mean is that I don’t
care
what you want, Belle.” He yanked the sink out of her grasp, hefted it onto his shoulder and walked away with it.

She stayed there, her mouth open in shock while he crossed to her piles and dumped it unceremoniously next to the last one. He walked back, his eyes narrow in the morning sunlight but flaring with brilliant color anyway. Rage made him dangerous. She could sense the ripple of power under his control, feel the energy crackling through him. Her response to it felt elemental, like a magnet being drawn to a far more powerful source. She held the truck wall tighter to keep from going to him, despite the fact that he wasn’t even looking at her to beckon her. In fact, he was looking everywhere but at her. Which only angered her more.

“Lucas!” She felt his attention shift to her even if his eyes didn’t. “What part of
go away
is hard for you to understand?”

He flexed his hands inside the work gloves. Open once. Close once. Open again. Then they closed into a knot of flesh and leather. She felt his gaze hit her like a fist, instantly making her regret pushing.

She took a step back. Not in fear of him, but his intensity. Every emotion seemed to flow like molten energy in his eyes. Pain. Desire. Anger. Need. Hot, hungry need. She took another step as he came towards her.

“What’s the matter, Belle? You look worried.”

Because she
was
. “I don’t want you here.”

“Why?” She must look defensive, too, if his pleased perusal meant anything.

“Why what?”

“Why don’t you want me here?” With each word he came closer and she retreated further to the warehouse. The dog danced around her feet, looking for a place to stay, probably wondering if this was a game. “You never had a problem with me here before.”

“I have a problem now.”
Yeah, brilliant response, dumbass.

“Why?”

“I don’t have to explain myself to you.”
Run for friggin’ Congress, Belinda. Geez.

“Oh, yes, you do. You never have, but you should.”

His autocratic remark finally cemented her feet in place. Anger, wonderful, spine-stiffening anger, flooded her. He kept advancing, stopping only when their chests touched with each heaving breath they took. Not that she understood why either of them was breathing so hard. They were only talking…right?

She poked her finger against his chest. “All I
should
have to do is tell you to go, Lucas. That’s enough for everyone else.” Well, it would be, if anyone else were allowed on her property.

“You haven’t told me to go.”

She thought over their conversation, momentarily befuddled. Hadn’t she told him to leave? She couldn’t remember. “I’m telling you now.”

“Go ahead.”

Maybe it was the tremble in her body, having him so close. Or just the power of his gaze drilling into her, but she couldn’t form the words. Any words at all.

He nodded slowly, understanding—damn him—and their breathing seemed to slow down. She got lost in his gaze, in the fiery touch of his now bare thumb on her jaw.

“No matter what you do or how you hurt me, you can’t make what’s between us go away. You can’t make
me
disappear, Belinda. I’m not going anywhere.”

Her body clenched, caught between wanting to defy and wanting to hide. “You were the one who wanted out, Lucas. I’m just holding you to it.”

“I was wrong.”

That required blinking. Lucas was never wrong. He didn’t know how to be wrong. She was about to mention that, but his mouth descended on hers. His arm snaked around her at the same time, yanking her against him while his other hand cupped the back of her head.

She didn’t want to use the word
helpless
. It didn’t apply. But she did feel powerless—against him, against her own needs—when her hands took hold of his hot shoulders, sliding slightly against the sweat there while his tongue plundered her mouth with devastating accuracy. He didn’t stop the battle until she whimpered, until she was clinging and tears seeped beneath her tightly closed lashes. Then he was gentle, soothing with caresses of his lips…and then he was gone.

As quickly as the kiss came, it was over. She was released and he looked grimmer than before, arms outstretched wide. To keep himself from touching her?

“This isn’t over,” he said, a dark promise that locked around her like a vise.

She touched her mouth, still wet, still possessed by him. Every inch of her felt possessed, owned, by his proprietary gaze.

“Now get inside and lock the door before I change my mind and take you right here in the dirt.”

So Belinda did what any woman did when her knees were melted, her heart was confused and the man in front of her was the last man she could afford to love.

She ran.

It was official. He was never listening to his brother again.

Lucas finished sorting the junk truck, but it wasn’t anger he had to work off anymore. He’d gone there to confront her. To pound on her door and yell at her until she listened to him. By the time he reached her yard, he was pretty sure he’d throttle her if they got into it, so he’d opted for emptying the truck.

He hadn’t expected to touch her. To taste her. He simply hadn’t realized he’d been screwing up for twelve years straight. But he could see it now.

That long-ago prom night he’d experienced his fantasy of touching her not because he’d won his way into her good graces. Belinda wasn’t going to bend enough to come to him because he said pretty please with sugar on top. The only times he’d ever breached her defenses were when he simply led and did. He took kisses. They weren’t given. He took dances. They weren’t offered. He took her to bed, but she never once asked him to.

Maybe, if he wanted a chance with her, he had to simply take that, too.

When the truck was clear, the sun was high and hours had passed. The pup had been loping all over the place, finding interesting smells, barking at insects and Belinda’s larger pieces of art, like the wrought-iron trellis she’d been creating for a new bridal display at some church, the multi-armed…
something
she made when she first got this place. It was her first attempt at a full-sized fountain, combining modern art and waterworks. Now she was adding glass inlays to the metal-works, creating pieces that captured even his dubious imagination.

“Here.” She was there nearly the second he lifted the truck bed door. As if she’d been watching for when he finished. He kept his lips from smiling, accepting the bottle of water she thrust at him.

“Thanks,” he said to her back as she turned away.

“I don’t want your thanks. I want you to go,” she grumbled over her shoulder. He hid his grin behind the water bottle and sank to the nearest spot in the shade to sit on that had a good view of her. She’d kick him, but he did enjoy watching her walk in those baggy overalls. It was so much more fun guessing where her sleek body was behind the fabric than himself and every male for a hundred yards being able to count the folds in her skin because her pants were so tight.

“And take your damn dog with you,” she added, probably well aware he was looking.

He sighed. “If he’s
my
damn dog, why did
you
name him?”

She spun around, frowning. “I never—”

“Sparky!” he snapped, to prove it. The dog lifted his head and came bounding. Lucas raised an eyebrow at her.

“Shithead!” she called and the dog immediately turned her way. She raised her eyebrow right back, making him rise from his seat on the overturned bucket to watch the dog lick happily at her outstretched arm. Her mouth twisted. “Hey, look, it works on both of you.”

He couldn’t stop the smile that time. No one would ever call her charming, but damn she could get him when she wanted to.

She smiled back, just as honestly. She avoided true smiles almost as much as he did, but for very different reasons. You could see the sweetness of her when she smiled like that. Light glowed out of her. He figured she hated that.

He took a gulp of the water and replaced the cap. “Be at Vino’s at seven. We need to talk.”

There went her smile. It was all right. There would be more.

“There’s nothing to say, Lucas. It’s over.”

“Then you can tell me that at Vino’s.”

“I’m telling you
now
.”

He snapped to Sparky, who trotted over obediently and waited for Lucas to pick up the leash.

“Lucas!”

He decided he liked the sound of outrage in her voice and kept walking. “Seven. Meet me there.”

Hours later, he sat in the booth and wondered if the dare would pay off. It might not. Belinda was brilliant when it came to being stubborn. But he had a feeling this would work. She’d be late, just to prove she
chose
to come, and she’d be sullen, but she’d come.

Near eight o’clock, his confidence was starting to wane. Vino was tossing him curious looks—no problem being recognized this time—and the bottom of his beer glass was starting to shine up at him.

Then she came in.

She wasn’t the black leather sexpot this time. Skintight jeans hugged her hips all the way down her legs ’til they flared over her chunky, ankle-high work boots. She had on a black tank top with prerequisite blinding white skull and crossbones that read, “Screw you” rather pleasantly across her breasts. Her hair had extra shellac this time, looking shiny enough to pierce metal. She dropped into the booth like a bag of dumped athletic equipment. He decided her choice to stomp on his feet and nearly remove his kneecap with a boot heel was purely accidental.

“It’s over.” Subtle, she wasn’t.

He grinned, which surprisingly made her pale. “Want a drink?”

“I’m impossible to get drunk, Lucas. You won’t get back in these pants that way.”

“I’m surprised
you
got into those pants.” He gestured to Vino, who nodded and had another beer sent their way.

Belinda glared at him through deeply underlined mascara. But she sipped the beer anyway. “What’s this about?”

He shrugged. “I wanted to go out with you.”

“This isn’t a date.”

“Sure, it is. I asked. You came.”

Her impatience narrowed her eyes to slits. “You didn’t ask. You demanded.”

As if that mattered. “You still came.”

“Because if I didn’t, you’d be at my place every day driving me crazy!”

“No.” He smiled, already picturing her laid out on her fluffy white duvet, pale thighs spread while he licked and sucked every millimeter of her beautiful pussy until she arched against his face, panting his name in breathy syllables. “That’s my plan for
after
the date.”

She went back to slumping, sliding into the seat and putting her boot on the triangle of seat between his legs. “I hate you.”

“Everyone says that.” Not everyone tried to play darts on his balls, but she could at least be original with her insults.

“Lucas, this is not a date. It was a dare.”

Logic never was her friend. “Which you failed. Which means I win. Which makes
this
a date.”

“There weren’t any specifications. And you didn’t win because I’m here.”

“You were late.” He popped a pretzel in his mouth. “I win.”

“You never could win a dare without cheating.” She blew out a frustrated breath, essentially admitting he was right.

It wasn’t true concession, but he could be gracious. “You want a redo? Name your stakes.”

She laughed, but it wasn’t pleasant. Sort of a bleat. “Please, I could beat you at anything blindfolded, with my hands tied behind my back.”

That could be interesting. Especially given her level of flexibility. “I’m willing to be kinky if you are.”

Her lip rose in a feral, feminine snarl. “You wish.”

“Every night.” He threw back the rest of his beer in salute. “But that doesn’t change the conversation. Are you up to a little double-dog daring, Belinda? Winner take all?”