Hold on to Me (10 page)

For a split second, Mitch considered calling a cab, but Lara was already pushing him toward his Land Rover. He slid into the passenger seat and shoved it back to make room for his long legs. Lara climbed into the driver’s side and closed the door. The floral scent of her perfume filled the interior of the vehicle, sending a shot of nausea through his stomach.

“Where to?” she asked.

He didn’t trust his direction skills after the Patron. Tugging the smart phone from his jeans pocket, he opened the navigation app and squinted until all the little boxes stopped spinning. “You don’t know where I live? Would’a thought with your access to the personnel files, you’d be able to tell me.”

She shoved the gearshift into Reverse and slowly backed out of the parking space. “I might’a had a crush on you for weeks, but I haven’t stalked you. Yet.”

The “yet” brought his head up, but the wicked smile across her lips told him she was playing. Or so he hoped.

He typed in his address and set the phone on the front of the console. She flipped on the radio, fiddled with the station, then shoved the stick shift into first.

Pop music echoed out of the speakers, some boy band he couldn’t name and didn’t want to listen to. But instead of switching the station, he leaned his head back against the seat. “Careful. This’ing sticks in second.”

“I’ve got it.” She shoved the clutch down and tried to shift gears. The grind of metal echoed through the small space.

At one point, Mitch might have cared that she was hurting his baby—he rarely let anyone drive the old 1990 Defender, especially someone who wasn’t good with a stick shift—but tonight the alcohol was doing its job. Tonight he had only one thought in his mind: oblivion. Pure, sweet, blessed oblivion. And if this blonde chick whose name he could barely remember could take him there, he didn’t even care if she trashed the transmission of his pride and joy.

She hummed along to the music, slid one hand across the console and onto his thigh. He tensed for a second, then forced himself to relax as she drew her fingers up and down the denim, working her way higher with every pass.

He’d fooled around with Simone in this car only a week or so ago, just before she’d left on that trip to DC, when he’d driven her home after their date. Shannon had been with a babysitter, and he’d tried to get Simone to invite him in for the night, but Simone always had those strict rules about no overnights when Shannon was around. So instead he’d settled for making it to second base in the driveway of her house right here in this car before he’d finally let go, sweaty and aching for more as he’d watched her disappear into her big old Victorian house.

The arousal he’d been starting to feel from Mara’s—no, Lara’s—teasing fizzled and died. That damn ache resettled beneath his ribs. He was still sober enough to realize they needed to get to his house fast before he changed his mind or before the alcohol wore off for good.

Lara turned onto his street, then pointed toward his house, completely dark and silent. “This one?”

“Yeah,” he managed. “Driveway’s on the other side.”

She pulled into the drive and shoved the car into first. Metal ground against metal once more, and Mitch cringed. After stepping on the parking brake, she shut off the ignition. He reached for the door handle but was surprised when she whipped his way, grasped the front of his shirt, and dragged his mouth toward hers.

Her lips were cold, a little too firm, and tasted like that strawberry lip balm Shannon had made him buy for her last week. The scent of her perfume wafted around him—not really roses, but not citrusy either. Actually, it reminded him of his grandmother’s house. A little too old-fashioned, a lot too nauseating.

She pulled her mouth from his. “Mm, I’ve been wanting to do that for weeks.” She reached for the door handle. “Come on. Let’s take this inside.”

Mitch’s stomach rolled, but his head was still light enough where he wasn’t paying attention. Or was trying hard not to.

Don’t think. You want this
…

He opened the door and swayed. Lara laughed and ran up to his side. Her arm slid around his waist. “Come on, big guy.”

She led him toward the house and used his keys to unlock the door. In the entry, she stopped and looked around at all the old wood paneling he’d restored. “Wow. This place is awesome.”

“Thanks.” He took the keys from her, tossed them on the entry table, and shut the door. The room spun, and he braced a hand against the solid wood to hold himself up.

Maybe three—or had it been four?—shots of Patron was a little much. He’d been able to hold his own back in college, but these days he rarely had more than a couple of beers in one sitting.

She grasped his hand before he could catch his bearings and dragged him down the hall. “Your bedroom’s through here, right?”

His stomach tightened. Thoughts of Simone pinged around in his fuzzy head. What had seemed like a great idea moments before was suddenly turning his stomach.

Lara drew up short at his open bedroom door, grasped his shirt at the front, and shoved him up against the door. Shock registered, but before he could react, her mouth closed over his. A little too forcefully. A lot too wet. He tasted the fruity drink she’d sucked back earlier and what was left of the Patron.

Don’t think. Just feel
.

The fingers of her free hand slid into his hair, and she pulled his mouth more firmly down onto hers, kissing him deeper. She didn’t kiss at all like Simone. This wasn’t sweet or sexy or even arousing. It felt…forced, and a little bit brutal.

She pulled him away from the door. The room spun again, and he stumbled. Air whooshed over his back, and he felt himself going down. Then the soft cushion of his mattress met his spine, and the dominatrix at his front landed on top of him.

This wasn’t right. He wasn’t into it. And dammit, how fucked was he that he couldn’t even screw a hot chick climbing all over him?

He rolled her to her back to get her claws off him, and told himself it was the alcohol. That was the reason he wasn’t the least bit turned-on. It had to be, because he wasn’t going to let this be about Simone.

Mitch pulled his mouth from hers. “Lara, you’re hot and everything, but I don’t think this is going to work tonight.”

Excitement flared in her eyes. “You think I’m hot?”

Good God. Of all the things for her to get stuck on. Mitch’s mouth fell open to try to smooth things over, but before he could, she flipped him to his back again.

The mattress bounced. He grunted. A predatory glint sparked in her eyes. She climbed over him like a lioness ready to devour her prey, and Mitch tensed.

“The name’s Clara, by the way, not Lara. Get it right.” She lowered her mouth to his throat. “But don’t worry. Whatever’s broken, I can totally make it work. I’m good at that. Trust me, I’m very, very good.”

CHAPTER SEVEN

M
itch’s car was parked in the drive of his house when Simone arrived. Relief spiraled through her—that he hadn’t left for BC yet, that he was home, that she still had a chance, even if that chance was only a meager explanation.

Her stomach tossed and turned as she parked behind his dusty Land Rover and climbed out of her BMW. The light across the street had gone out, and the other houses in the Pacifica neighborhood were dark at this hour. Behind Mitch’s house, a green space opened to a park, and the tall, dark trees blocked city lights beyond.

She loved his house—the setting, the neighborhood, the fact he’d taken a rundown ranch and remodeled it into a craftsman dream home with dark woods and big windows and his own unique masculine style. She loved it more than her own Victorian because it had the kind of character she’d never pick for herself—a lot like Mitch. He was not the sort of man she usually went for, and he was nothing like Steve. He was rugged and rough and way too laid back. And she hadn’t realized just how much she needed all of that until it was too late.

She stopped inches from the front door, lifted her hand to knock, then hesitated. Her bracelet slid from her wrist to her forearm, pinching her skin, but she barely noticed. The door wasn’t completely closed. It looked like it had been shut but hadn’t completely latched.

Mitch rarely used the front door. He always went in through the garage. Her adrenaline shot up, and all kinds of dangerous options raced through her mind. But she squashed them by reminding herself no one was really after her, which meant no one would be the least bit interested in hurting Mitch.

She pushed the door open and stepped into the dim entryway. A look toward the dark kitchen and living room told her he was probably already in bed.

And why wouldn’t he be? It was after midnight. If he had an early flight up to Canada in the morning, he’d be sound asleep by now.

She slipped off her shoes so they wouldn’t squeak on the hardwood floor and set them beside the door. Moving quietly, she headed down the hallway toward the bedrooms. The house had three—in addition to an office. One of which was Mitch’s, one he used as a guest room, and the third was where he stored his various backpacks and hiking gear and all those geological instruments Simone couldn’t name and would never be able to operate.

Her feet drew to a stop outside his bedroom. A pillow was tossed haphazardly against the end of the open door, but it was the man sound asleep on his back, lying diagonally across the middle of the bed, that drew her attention.

Her heart stuttered, stopped, then felt like it came to life all over again as she stood in the doorway, watching the slow rise and fall of his bare chest. His left hand was up by his head, his watchband just barely covering the scar he’d gotten camping as a kid. The other lay across his chest, right over the spot she loved to rest her fingers against as she fell asleep in his arms.

Tears filled her eyes. Tears she blinked back. She was so stupid to think she could ever let him go. If he’d give her a second chance, she’d do whatever she could to make it up to him.

She crossed the floor and gently sat on the edge of the bed, as close to him as she could get. “Mitch,” she said softly.

He didn’t respond, so she laid her hand on his warm thigh and said it again. “Mitch.”

He shifted his head her direction, but his eyes still didn’t open. God, he had the longest eyelashes. They looked like curved, light brown feathers against his tanned skin. Her gaze ran over him, from the rumpled, slightly too-long hair she loved to sift her fingers through to the scruff on his chiseled jaw.

Her hand drifted up to his hair as if it had a mind of its own and combed through the thick, curly locks. When her fingernails scraped his scalp, he groaned in what she knew was pure pleasure.

Her skin warmed, and her stomach tightened. She raked her fingers through his hair again, just as she knew he liked. Common sense told her she should pull her hand back, that she should wake him, but she’d been dying to touch him since she’d walked away. No, that wasn’t right. She’d been dying to touch him like this since she’d left for that trip to DC.

“Mm, Simone.” His voice was a throaty purr. He still didn’t open his eyes, but every nerve in Simone’s body jolted as if she’d been shocked by an electrical current. “Love that.”

She loved it too. Loved him. She leaned closer. “Mitch. I need…”
to talk to
“…you.”

She wasn’t sure why she left the words out. It wasn’t that they weren’t true. It was simply that right now she did need him. Only him.

He drew in a deep breath, and his eyes opened, just a sliver, just enough so she could see his unfocused, soft green gaze. It held on her, and the tiniest smile curled one side of his mouth, showcasing that deep dimple in his cheek she loved. His hand lifted, slid into her chin-length hair, and tugged her mouth down to his.

Home
…

The word spun through her mind, ricocheted through her body, and echoed through every limb.

He didn’t give her a chance to say no, and frankly, she didn’t want him to. His lips were firm and insistent. His scent, masculine and so familiar. And when she opened to him and he kissed her with that warm, wet tongue like he couldn’t get enough, every protest she knew she should voice slipped right out of her head.

She sank into the kiss, stroked her tongue against his, ran her fingers through her hair and stretched out against him. Warmth permeated her body, slithered through her chest, and heated the cold space around her heart she’d been living with since that awful night.

“Mm…” He pulled her over him, then rolled her to her side. His hand streaked down her neck, across her collarbone, and closed over her breast.

Electrical sensations shot from beneath her bra to her belly and lower. Simone moaned into his mouth and wrapped her arms around his shoulders as he continued pushing her back into the mattress. He answered by kissing her deeper, by stroking her tongue harder. Spreading her legs to make room for him, she felt his arousal pushing into her, and her pulse picked up speed, knowing he still wanted her.

It wasn’t too late. She could fix everything she’d broken. All she needed to do was explain why she’d been ready to run.

“Mitch…” Her fingers toyed with his hair. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have lied to you. I didn’t mean it.”

He groaned and moved fully on top of her. Sweet, heavenly bliss radiated outward from her pelvis where he rubbed against her, but the stab of something sharp in her shoulder made her pull back from his mouth and gasp. “Ouch. What’s that?”

His hand landed against the mattress near her head. He pushed away just enough to look down. He blinked several times, then his unfocused gaze slowly sharpened and held on her face. “Simone?”

“Something’s sticking into me.” She pushed up just enough so she could wiggle to the side. Reaching back, she grasped the small metal object stuck in the fabric of her shirt and looked down at it in her hand.

Darkness made it hard to see what the object was at first, but then she realized it was an earring. A long, dangly silver thing she’d never be caught dead wearing.

Mitch scrambled off her and pushed upright, swaying on his feet, looking more than a little dazed and seriously confused. “What the…? How did you…? What the
hell
are you doing in my bed?”