Beyond Addiction (15 page)

Dallas never shared Lex. He brought the people Lex cared about into the circle of his protection. They became his, because they mattered to her. Dallas shared
them
with
her
. A distinction as thin as a razor’s edge, but Ace and Rachel were teaching him to appreciate the finer lines in love and sex.

Jared understood fine lines already. He’d be good for the O’Kanes, and they’d be good for him. Cruz knew it in his gut. Somehow, he’d convince Ace’s friend before that ice grew so impenetrable no one could reach him.

The world wasn’t doing any more damage to Ace’s heart. Cruz wouldn’t allow it.

Sector Four’s marketplace was a little ragged around the edges.

Finn eyed a broken stall as they passed it. The damage was so recent there were still splinters clinging to the wood on one side. A man stood on a precarious ladder leaned up against the side, nailing shingles into place on the tattered roof. He watched Finn as he passed, his lips tightening around his mouthful of nails, but when his gaze dropped to Trix’s wrists, he looked away quickly.

“Is this from the fight?” Finn asked her, tilting his head toward a storefront with wood in place of its window.

“Minimal damage, but there was some.” Her brow furrowed. “Was Fleming behind it—the bootlegging? Or did he just let it happen?”

“Honestly, I don’t even know. That was Beckett’s baby, and Beckett never liked me. Or trusted me.” Finn didn’t bother to hold back a scowl. “He had some crackpot idea about doing the same thing to the booze that he’s doing to the drugs. That damn additive.”

She stumbled to a halt in the middle of the street. “You’ve got to be shitting me.”

Finn steadied her with a hand on her elbow. “Who knows if it would have worked? But I’m pretty sure Mac would have gone along with anything if he thought it’d hurt Dallas.”

Her throat worked as she swallowed hard. “I’m glad it’s over. For now, anyway.”

“For now, yeah.” Beckett’s crazy would be slower in coming—and a hundred times more lethal. “I’m gonna tell O’Kane everything important. You know that, right? Anything that’ll help him.”

Trix shook her head and curled her arm through the crook of his. “Not right now, okay? We’re shopping today, that’s all. No business.”

It was an invitation to ignore the sharp edges of life that kept trying to poke their way into this dream. If he’d had his way, they wouldn’t have left the compound at all. Every moment outside of that room—that
bed
—felt like a wasted opportunity. There were so many ways he still wanted to touch her.

But Noah had showed up with Finn’s personal stash of money, retrieved with God only knew what sorts of hacking magic, and Trix had seemed so excited to take him shopping. He couldn’t say no when she got that look in her eyes.

So he’d shop. He’d shop all damn day, as long as she came home with him at night. “So what’s on your list, doll?”

“Clothes, obviously. And I have to take you by to meet Stuart—he does amazing things with leather.”

From what he’d seen, the O’Kanes appreciated leather, all types of it. The kind you wore, the kind you decorated with, and the kind only useful for kinky games of pleasure and pain. Not usually one of his vices, but maybe it was one of hers. “Leather, hmm?”

She laughed and bumped her hip against his. “Vests and jackets, smartass.”

“Hey, baby, I wasn’t judging.”

“Uh-huh. Say that without leering, and I might believe you.”

Smiling, he freed his arm and wound it around her waist, resting one hand on the lush curve of her hip. “Leering isn’t judging. Leering is approving.”

“It can be both.” She slid her hand into his back pocket. Her fingers pressed against his ass, the tips digging into flesh just enough to serve as a delicious reminder. She clutched at him when he fucked her now, her nails scoring his skin, leaving marks of encouragement.

Just like that, he wanted to be in her again.

She blushed at his low growl, but she didn’t stop walking—and she didn’t move her hand. “Do you mind if we make a stop on the way? I need more shampoo.”

His growing need to touch her didn’t go well with extra stops, but he loved the way her hair smelled. Sweet and floral, a scent that lingered on his pillow long after she was gone. Way better than the utilitarian soap they shipped out of Sector Eight. “Sure, doll.”

“You might find something you like in Tatiana’s shop. She makes all kinds of things.”

Her cheeks were pink and swiftly turning a red to rival her hair, which made him wonder what the hell someone could sell alongside shampoo that would make an O’Kane blush. “Just like the leather guy, huh?”

She laughed, soft and husky, and pulled him toward a storefront on the opposite side of the street. “Come on.”

The little shop was bigger inside than it looked, with sturdy wooden shelves lining three walls and a large table in the middle of the room. Two women sat at one end, dozens of small bottles with handwritten labels spread out in front of them. The blonde rubbed at the inside of her wrist and lifted it to her nose, her eyelids drooping in pleasure. “Oh God, Tatiana, you’re right. It’s heavenly.”

The second woman had long black hair, smooth brown skin, and a tired smile that brightened when she looked up to see Trix. She rose and patted the first woman on the shoulder. “Try the jasmine, if you want, but it costs ten times as much. And I think that blend suits you.”

Trix grinned sheepishly at her approach. “I’m almost out of shampoo. Again.”

“You’re in luck. I think I have one bottle left.” Tatiana hesitated before resting a hand on Trix’s arm and lowering her voice. “Are you all right? There were rumors, but everything was so chaotic after the fight in the market square...”

Trix stiffened. “It’s fine now. Zan got shot, but he’s gonna be okay.”

If Finn hadn’t been staring right at Tatiana, trying to figure out why something about her face was so naggingly familiar, he would have missed the way her eyes and lips tightened. “I suppose that’s why I haven’t seen him since before the fight.”

“He’s gonna be okay,” Trix repeated, more quietly this time. “But one of the other guys may be stopping in to check on you for a while.”

“I understand.” She squeezed Trix’s arm briefly and tilted her head toward the far wall. “I put out a new batch with that iridescent glitter Ford helped me find. Take a look while I get your stuff from the back.”

“Thanks.” Trix wandered over to peer at the bottles and other containers, touching a few labels before finally picking up a jar. “The glitter looks good under the stage lights.”

Finn stopped in front of the row of shelves next to it, where a carefully hand-lettered sign announced
Massage Oils
. Beneath it were smaller signs affixed to each individual shelf.
Sensual
,
Therapeutic
...

Edible
.

Sector fucking Four, man, where even the lube was pretentious. He picked up a jar labeled
Mint
and eyed Trix. “So this is the O’Kane corner of the shop?”

“Being an O’Kane has its privileges.” She plucked the jar out of his hand. “Don’t knock it ’til you’ve tried it. Though I prefer the warming oil.”

He followed her gaze to another shelf with a row of even smaller bottles. The price listed beside them was outrageous, but he picked up two at random. “You’ll have to show me why.”

She dropped her hand to his, her fingertips teasing at the inside of his wrist. “I have some already.”

“So I’ll get this for my room.”

“Or you could stay with me.”

Yes
.

It was the answer to a problem he hadn’t realized he had, a way to smudge that final line between them. But it created a whole set of new problems, too. Everything about the room Dallas had given him screamed temporary. It was sterile, empty, full of furniture without personality. A roof over his head, but not a home. Trix made it home when she was there, and took it with her when she left.

If he started sleeping in her room, surrounded by her, it would be easy to forget he didn’t really belong.

But he’d have her to himself. All of her. All the time. “You sure, doll?”

“I’m sure.” She stared up at him, her fingers tightening on his wrist. “I want you there, Finn. Sharing my home with you didn’t end at the sector border.”

He covered her hand with his, stroking that soft skin that probably smelled so good because she rubbed some of the lotion from one of these endless shelves into it. “And sharing yourself with me? Where does that end, Trix?”

Her fingers trembled, and she tugged her hand away. “I have to pay for this,” she mumbled. “The shampoo, too.”

Finn followed her more slowly, reaching the counter in time to add his two bottles to the stack and pull out his cash. Stubborn pride, maybe, but it felt good to be able to provide something other than dirty words and obligation.

It felt even better that she let him get away with it.

Trix fidgeted with the bag until the door closed behind them with a jingle. Then she grabbed his hand and pulled him around the corner of the building, into the shadowed alley, away from the bustle of the street.

She took a deep breath. “It doesn’t.”

They were almost entirely in shadow. When he braced an arm against the wall and leaned closer, it was like the rest of the damn world wasn’t there. Just him and her and a moment that felt too heavy for sunshine and daylight. “What doesn’t, baby?”
Say it. Say all of it.

“Sharing myself. There isn’t a place where that ends.” Her eyes were huge, luminous. “Not with you.”

Funny how the words could send satisfaction roaring through him but still leave him wary. Because she’d only seen his guilt, the side of him that gave and gave because giving felt good, and he was too damn scared to take. Even now, she was gazing up at him with total, endless trust.

Like she couldn’t imagine a world where he’d hurt her.

And he never would. Never, even if it meant holding back forever. Touching the corner of her mouth with his thumb, he shook his head. “There should be. With all the shit you’ve had to survive, all the shit I didn’t protect you from.”

She laid a soothing hand on his cheek. “Not because you didn’t try, Finn.”

“I tried.” He smoothed his thumb to the center of her full lips and pressed down to still any protest. “You promised you’d say
no
to me.”

Her lips moved beneath his hand as she nodded.

He gripped her hips and spun her so quickly she gasped. The bag of oils and shampoo thumped to the cracked pavement as he penned her in by bracing his arms on either side of her. Still protected, still sheltered from the gaze of passers-by, but trapped.

His.

Stifling a groan, he nuzzled his way beneath her hair and found her ear with his lips. “What if I’m not so different from those Sector Five perverts? What if I get off on imagining you in a pretty dress and pearls, getting on your knees and begging me to fuck that perfect mouth until your lipstick’s all over my dick?”

The breath she drew in was sharp, but her voice had gone soft around the edges, lazy with lust. “But you need me to get off on it, too. None of Fleming’s men—Beckett’s men—would care if I even wanted it. They’d take it anyway.”

It didn’t seem like enough for redemption. Fuck, it was just the bare fucking minimum of acceptable behavior, as if making her come in return was some trial or obligation. “Would you get off on it?”

“Maybe I don’t want to tell you,” she whispered. “Since you seem to think it’s so perverse.”

He slid a hand around her body, splaying his fingers across her abdomen to hold her in place as he rocked closer. “You know where I’m from, baby, and you know what it’s like there. What would you think if you were me?”

“I’d think—” She shuddered, and her head fell back against his shoulder. “I’d think you can find beautiful things even in ugly places.”

He had. He’d found her. “But you never learn how to take care of them,” he murmured, toying with the button on her pants. “Teach me, Trix. Prove it can be beautiful instead of twisted.”

Her head tipped forward this time, coming to rest on the dirty brick as her hand dropped to cover his. “It would get me off.” Her fingers nudged past his and undid the button. “Your hands in my hair, holding me so you could take your pleasure. It’d get me off, because we’d both know the truth.”

Finn was starting to suspect he’d never known any truths, or that they made truth different here in Sector Four. With the impossible softness of her skin under his fingertips, he groaned in her ear. “What’s that, doll?”

“It’s not about force, or about taking. It’s a different kind of surrender.”

“Yeah, it is.” Her panties had a lace edge, and it was wrong to stroke them like this, in an alley, in broad daylight. He could hear people in the street, their shouts echoing across the market square. People going about their lives, bickering and laughing and living.

Everyone here was so damn
alive
. He could be, too, if he slid his hand a little lower and trusted her. “Don’t let me hurt you, Trix. Promise me.”

“I promise.” She braced both hands on the wall above her head. “Please.”

Not permission. A plea, and he’d never been good at denying those when they fell from her lips. So he cupped her pussy and growled in her ear when the damp fabric of her underwear rubbed against his knuckles. “So wet, already.”

“Oh, God—” Her feet bumped his as she shifted her legs wider.

He slicked his finger over her clit, a testing brush that made her hips jerk into the touch. “Pearls. Someone in this marketplace must sell jewelry.”

“Stuart—the leather worker,” she gasped. “His—his sister.”

He’d buy whole strands of them. He’d blow through every credit to his name and wrap them around her while he fucked her. “That’s all you’re wearing tonight.”

Trix whimpered. “You only want me wearing them?”

Oh,
fuck
. He growled against her ear and pumped one finger into her with a shudder. “Dirty, dirty girl. I wonder how loud you’d scream if I rubbed them right...” He curled his finger. “
Here
.”

She shook in his arms, a low, desperate noise bubbling up in her throat as her pussy clenched around his finger. “More. Give me more.”