OGs: Deep Down (6 page)

She stared at him with something akin to horror in her eyes. “Mike—”

He leaned down, smelling her lipstick. Strawberries. Like always. “Do you ever wonder about us? Miss us?”

He wasn’t sure what he was doing, but he couldn’t stop himself. She was in his arms, all soft and compliant, and her sweet smell was all over him. He couldn’t be more messed up if he was up to his ears in meth.

She tried to jerk away. “I don’t want to—”

He held her tight. “I’m not bending on my fucking knee and offering you a ring, kitten.” Been there, done that. Never again. “But you need a distraction, and I’m more than willing,” he said, nuzzling her neck, feeling her tremble.

“If I need any distracting, I’m sure I could find someone else here who would do.”

“No one here will do you the way I can.”

“Is that right? I thought you didn’t want anything from here,” she retorted defiantly, looking down at herself.

“Changed my mind,” he whispered, still brushing her lips with his thumb, feeling her short, hard breaths against it.

Liar.

The truth of the matter was there was not a piece of her he didn’t want. Not a one. Not now, not ever. Jesus, he needed to be taken out back and shot. That was the only way he was going to manage to stay away from her. It infuriated him to no end, but that much he had to recognize. She was like a fucking drug he couldn’t quit. Proof of it was his current deranged behavior. His first assessment had been accurate; he needed to be lobotomized
and
castrated.

But, well, in for a penny, in for a pound.

He opened his hand on the small of her back and caressed her warm skin, feeling the tremors that racked her at his touch. “Let me have you tonight. I took your virginity, baby. All you know about pleasure you learned from me. I know how to make it work for you, how to do you right. I know what you like. And how you like it. What makes you so hot your pussy is dripping wet and you’re begging me to fuck it. I haven’t forgotten a single thing. I remember it all. What makes you come again and again and again.” He trailed kisses along her throat while she shivered in his arms. “Or you could show me what you like now. Old dogs can learn new tricks,” he said, wedging his thigh between her legs, his hard-on throbbing against her.

She was panting hard, her nails digging deep into his skin. He curled one hand on her neck, his fingers sinking in her luscious hair, and he was kissing her. Deep and hard. Full frontal assault. And instead of rejecting him, she clung to his shoulders and kissed him back, pressing her lower body against him. God, she tasted like he remembered.

It was a kiss laced with need and desperation, their bodies taking over.

Suddenly, as if she’d snapped from a trance, she jerked, placed her hands on his chest and pushed him away. “I don’t want this with you.”

It took a second for him to clear his foggy head, but then he let out a humorless laugh. “What? Not even good enough for a rebound fuck?”

She stared at him, hard. She didn’t have to answer; her eyes said it all. No, he wasn’t even good enough for a rebound fuck.

He staggered back as if she’d slapped him, but recovered right away. “Understood.”

Whatever buzz he’d created from the booze and the endorphins and having Kyra back in his arms was gone, and he was painfully sober.

“Stop dancing and get the fuck back home.” He glanced around. “Unless you’re planning on a gang bang.”

Before she could say anything, he turned around and walked away.

Moron. Ready to accept any crumbs she’d throw his way.

He should have known it. What the fuck was he doing going to her? Touching her? Tasting her?

He hadn’t been good enough then; he surely wasn’t now.

He was fucking done. For real.

He was out of there. As he was stalking out, someone grabbed him by the arm.

“Already leaving?” Sandy, or Mandy, asked. “Sure I can’t tempt you into staying?”

He faltered for a second, anger still boiling inside him. “Maybe you can.”

The mermaid smiled. “I can work with that.”

Mike let her drag him to the counter. His skin was crawling at the touch of another woman, but he ignored it. Pussy was pussy.

And like cured like.

Somewhere in his mind lurked the nagging feeling that he was kidding himself, that it wouldn’t work, but he ruthlessly stifled that thought.

He couldn’t drink himself into oblivion, but he sure as hell could fuck himself into it. He’d been doing that for years, and practice made perfect.

* * * *

“Your swimming facilities suck,” Angie said, grabbing for the water that hardly reached their waists, scooping some, and throwing it on her chest. “We should have gone to the Lake Club resort. The pool at the spa rocks.”

Kyra gestured at her daughter, splashing around in goggles and fins, trying to dive in the two-foot-deep inflatable pool and then standing and sputtering. “They’d kick us out. She’d mess up the chi of your relaxing customers.”

“True.”

She could use a bit of chi herself. She’d stuffed herself with Advil, but to no use. She shouldn’t have stayed out that late the night before, especially as today she’d had to wake up early to pick up Sam. By the time she’d gone home, she was too drunk and too pissed. She hadn’t been able to sleep, tossing around, her body on fire from Mike’s touch, her mind in turmoil from his callous words.

“Stop dancing and get the fuck back home. Unless you’re planning on a gang bang.”

Asshole.

She’d wanted to stay in the Shack as much as getting her eyes poked out, but after his parting shot, there was no way in hell she was giving him the satisfaction of leaving, so she’d stayed, dancing and drinking and smiling, trying to pretend she was having a great time when she was dying inside.

“I haven’t forgotten a single thing. I remember it all.”

Bastard. So did she. She remembered everything, even the parts she wanted to forget.

Her cell rang. She reached for it, but recognizing the number, she didn’t answer.

Kyra cleared her throat. “Drake.”

Taking advantage of another diving attempt from Sam, Angie said, “What’s wrong with this dickhead? He ripped you off. Got everything except debts. His debts. What the fuck does he want now?”

She shrugged. She’d stopped trying to analyze Drake many years ago, as soon as she’d realized she was alone in the marriage, which had been pretty soon.

At that moment, Rebecca, Greta, and Wilma came out of Greta’s house and headed their way.

Kyra loved those three wrinkled ladies, especially Mike’s grandma.

A couple of weeks ago, Rebecca had come to her. Apparently their aqua dance instructor had somehow tripped and hurt herself, and they were searching for a new instructor. Then Mike’s grandmother had handed Kyra a piece of paper. When she’d asked what it was, Rebecca had replied,
“The schedule. I’ve signed you up as our new instructor. You start tomorrow.”
Then she softened her stance, tucked a strand of her bluish-white hair behind her ear and blinked twice.
“Don’t you, dear?”

Rebecca hadn’t given her a chance to refuse. Many things had changed in Alden. Rebecca wasn’t one of them. She was still the sweetest, most stubborn, in-your-face old lady Kyra had ever met. Only second to Wilma, a stylish firecracker with red, curly hair and a penchant for turbans and elegant clothes. Greta was rounder, with short brown permanent and cat-eye glasses.

Alden’s own senior version of Charlie’s Angels.

Sam resurfaced and waved at them. “Hi.”

“So nice to have you back, honey,” Rebecca said to Sam while the other two smiled widely. “Did you have a good time?”

Sam nodded, brushing hair from her eyes.

“Remember we have the rehearsal for the play tomorrow. We’ll be waiting for you,” Wilma added, leaning on the fence between the yards. She was rehearsing some play with the town’s kids, and Sam had been very excited about joining them and being a bee.

“I’ll be there. I already have the wings,” Sam said, waving her hands and swirling around herself, splashing water over Kyra and Angie and stepping on their toes.

Yeah, definitely, the swimming facilities sucked.

“Ladies?”

Kyra shifted to see Mike coming toward the grandmas, dressed in worn-out jeans and a black T-shirt that outlined all his muscles. His eyes were covered by aviator sunglasses, but Kyra could pinpoint the second he saw her, because he stopped dead in his tracks, his body visibly tensing. He left the packet he was carrying on the garden table without coming any closer. She couldn’t see his baby blues, but she felt his gaze on her skin. Felt the contempt too. There, in that shitty, shallow pool, and under his scrutiny, she felt totally exposed, but she stifled the urge to cover herself and lifted her chin defiantly.

He turned to the old ladies and growled, “Next time Greta has low blood sugar, you give her candy; you don’t have to mobilize Mom to send me to get you ice cream.”

“Too hot for candy, Mike,” Rebecca replied.

“Ice cream?” Sam squeaked, interrupting. “Can I have some too?”

“Sure,” Rebecca said.

“Yay!” Sam jumped out of the pool and, dripping water all over, with her goggles and fins still on, ran clumsily to Greta’s side of the yard. The fence was half a foot tall, but she didn’t need to jump because there were several planks missing. And a door near the hole, not that Sam used it.

She crossed to the other side, but before making it to the table, she tripped on her fin and with a surprised cry she went flying to the ground. Kyra scrambled to her feet, but she wasn’t halfway up before Mike had already reached for Sam and effortless steadied her, saving her from a face-plant.

“Careful there.”

“You okay, baby?” Kyra asked.

“Yes, Mommy. I just stepped on my shoe.” Her voice was breathless, but she otherwise seemed okay.

“You may want to take those off when you run. And the goggles too,” Mike said with a smile, “especially when they are full of water.”

She did as she was told and giggled. “Yes. Better. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

Rebecca looked at her grandson with fond eyes. “Why don’t you stay with us to eat the ice cream?”

Mike didn’t answer. With a snort and a shake of his head, he turned around and left.

“Mike is the nicest guy in town. Always smiling,” Angie whispered to her. “Except for when you’re around.”

Yep, she’d noticed. Mike smiled at everyone, always. Except her.

Last time he’d smiled at her was seven years ago, the night he’d proposed.

All that last week before the big blowout, their relationship had been a bit on the rocks. She was graduating from college and had gotten that amazing job offer with the luxury cruise line, not one that catered to cheap tourists. The
Summit
was the top of the line, and she’d been offered the lead dancer position. It was a great opportunity, one that Mike didn’t seem to appreciate. He wanted her close by.

They had been at their spot, in a secluded section of the lakeshore when he’d gone on his knees, presented her with an engagement ring, and asked her to marry him.

It had come out of the blue for her, especially taking into consideration the road had been a little bumpy lately, with him nervous and distracted and her dealing with all the graduation stuff.

“Mike, I can’t accept now. I want to take the cruise job.”

He’d tensed.
“I don’t want you to take it.”

“I already accepted it.”

Mike had shot to his feet.
“You accepted the fucking job without talking with me first? Knowing I don’t want you to?”

And that had done it. She’d crossed her arms and stood toe-to-toe with him, even if she was much shorter.
“I don’t have to ask your permission for anything.”

She’d wanted to tell him that they could leave town together and marry later on, but the whole conversation had gotten out of hand. He hadn’t wanted to hear about continuing their relationship.
“If you don’t want my ring, you don’t want me, and there’s no sense in keeping up with this,”
he’d said. His ultimatum had pissed her off more, and they both ended up screaming and throwing stupid shit in each other’s faces. She slept at Angie’s, and the next day she’d left for the docks.

He hadn’t understood why she didn’t want to marry right then, why she needed to get out of Alden and become someone. Mike hadn’t wanted to leave. He was a self-proclaimed small-town guy; he’d told Kyra many times he was happy there with his friends, his family, his job. He didn’t want to go anywhere. He had his gym, his martial arts classes. But as a dancer she was supposed to travel a lot. Mike wasn’t a man to trail after his woman with nothing else to do.

Mike was already someone, comfortable in his own skin without anything to prove to anyone. Secure in his own worth. Not Kyra. She’d had so much stuff to prove she’d been choking on it. And Mike hadn’t understood that.

One month had been more than enough for her to realize running off to the ship had been a mistake. Seeing the world and living freely without him by her side wasn’t what she wanted. She called him, left a message, and as his birthday was looming, she decided to go all out. She told the captain she had an emergency and was disembarking. Fortunately for her they were still on the Caribbean circuit, in Nassau. She’d arrived in Alden just in time for his birthday and headed straight to their place, the secluded spot on the lake where he’d proposed. Mike was there, but he wasn’t alone. He was sitting on the stairs of that small cabin his family owned, where he’d taken her virginity, getting a blowjob from some ho, the bitch’s head bobbing up and down over his cock. He’d lifted his face, looked straight up at Kyra, and defiantly held her gaze. As someone else was sucking his cock, he’d stared at Kyra, his eyes boring holes in her. Letting her know loud and clear where he stood, and where she stood. Nowhere.

Rationally, she understood he hadn’t cheated on her. They weren’t together anymore, and he could do whatever he wanted. In theory only, because everything in her told her that Mike was hers. Seeing him there and realizing she’d lost him had been the worst that had happened to her. Ever. Which, taking into consideration all the shit she’d gone through while growing up and all the shit that had happened to her after marrying Drake, was saying something.