Wings Over Poppies (Over #2) (17 page)

“
Colorblind
” by Counting Crows

IF HIS VOICE makes me uneasy, the menacing sneer he’s wearing frightens me. In two swift strides, he’s on me, and I’m pinned against the wall. One hand grips my keys in a tight fist, and the other scratches desperately at the brick wall. My fingernails bend back and snap as I claw the building for balance.

“Step back or … or I’ll scream,” I stammer as I look frantically from side to side.

Of course, the streets are deserted, and he’s backed me into the shadows.

“Go ahead, there’s no one around to fucking hear you.” He smiles wickedly. “Or I could make you shut up. I think I’d really enjoy that.”

“Please.” The single word falls from my lips on an exhaled breath. His wicked smile widens, my fear feeding him. I close my eyes for a split second, saying a silent prayer and building up the courage to endure what’s to come. The keys cut my skin as I squeeze tightly, but my limbs feel frozen.

I open my eyes just in time to see a fist slam into Hank’s temple. The punch is swift, powerful, and crippling. Hank crumples to the ground in a heap, motionless. The invisible spikes pinning me to the wall release me, and my body slumps forward. A relieved sob escapes me as an arm wraps around my middle to keep me from falling.

“It’s okay, I’ve got you,” he says.

The sound of his voice elicits a calm that only he can provide.

How does this man crush my heart and save me over and over again?

The police car drives away with Hank cuffed in the back seat. West stands in the road with his arms crossed and his harsh gaze narrowed at yours truly.

I argued with West at first, begging him not to call the police. He wouldn’t hear of it, and now I’m incredibly thankful I listened to him. It turns out Hank has quite the rap sheet, and if these charges stick, he’ll serve some real jail time. I shudder to think of what could have happened if West hadn’t walked up.

As we sat on the sidewalk waiting for the police to arrive, West held me close and whispered sweet assurances to calm me. I relished in the feeling of him, regardless of the circumstances.

While he held me, my eyes became fixed on his left leg. I wondered where his flesh ended and the metal began. I looked up at him in question, silently pleading with him to answer the question I didn’t dare ask. His features turned to stone, and he snapped out a final, “Don’t, Alex.”

As the police questioning ensued, it wasn’t long until West’s comforting nature morphed into anger directed firmly at me. I felt him stiffen beside me when I told the officer I initially met Hank at The Keg. He grunted and shook his head in disbelief when I admitted I ran into him again at The Courtyard’s speed dating event. He threw his hands up and walked away when I described leaving my friends and staying at the gallery alone. Each of these instances, separately, seem inconsequential. But when added up, it tells a different story.

I’m kind of a dumbass.

I watch the squad lights disappear and steel myself for the unavoidable conversation.

“What in the hell were you thinking, Alex? I can’t believe you’d be so stupid.” He runs his hands down his face and looks to the sky, as if praying for patience.

“Stupid? I may have made a few errors in judgment, West, but I’m not going to sit here and let you talk to me like I’m a child.” I can’t help it; his tone incenses me.

“Then maybe you should stop acting like one. Do we really need to sit down and have the talk about how there are bad people in this world who can hurt you? Do you understand what would have happened had I not found you?”

His words hit their intended mark, and I flinch in response. A tremor runs through me at the mere thought.

“Of course I understand.” I cross my arms and huff in frustration. “Wait. Why were you here, West?”

“Really? That’s what you’re concerned about? Lucky for you, I happened to be walking by. You’re fucking welcome,” he hollers in anger, his arms raised in expectation.

“Really? We’ve lived in the same city for the last two years, and we’ve never crossed paths. Not. Once. You expect me to believe that you just
happened
to be passing by when I was being attacked? I don’t buy it for one minute.” I point my finger at him in anger and narrow my eyes.

“I don’t give a shit what you believe, Alex. It’s the truth,” he barks, leaving little room for question.

“Oh, I know you don’t give a shit about me, West. You’ve made it perfectly clear for the last
six damn years
!” I plant both hands on his chest and shove with all my might, but he barely budges. “My only question is, after ignoring me for what feels like an eternity, why are you here tonight? What’s changed?”

“Nothing’s changed, Alex. You know what, I’m not doing this with you. This conversation is over.” He grabs my wrists and pushes me away. “Enough. Where are you parked? I’ll follow you to make sure you make it home without incident. Lord knows, if tonight is any indication, that’s a task you are completely incapable of.”

I stare at him in utter disbelief. Who the hell does he think he is?

His eyebrows rise in impatience, and I dig my keys out of my purse. I walk the ten steps to the back of my car and turn to face him.

“This is me,” I say evenly.

He huffs and shakes his head. “Fucking figures. Some things never change.”

“What figures? That I drive a small car or that there’s dent in the bumper?”

“Just get in the car, Alex. Lock the doors and wait for me. I drive a black truck. I’ll follow you home,” he mutters, one hand on his hip and the other grasping his neck.

His annoyance stings, making me feel like a pesky little sister. I’m speechless, so I turn on my heel and slide into my car with a final slam of the door. He raises his hands in irritation, and I ever so slowly lift my hand to press the lock button. The clicking of the locks breaks the silence, and I shoot him my most sarcastic grin. If he wants to treat me like a nuisance, I’m sure as hell going to act like one. I’m certain I’ve hit my mark when he stalks away, seething.

I turn the key in the ignition, and the engine comes to life. My hands itch to throw the car in gear and drive away from West and his judgment. I’ve never been one to take orders in the past, and I can’t find one good reason why I should start now. But this may be a case where good manners win out.
Childishness is an unbecoming characteristic in a grown woman, Alexandra. You’d do well to remember that.
In this instance, my mother may be right.

Within minutes, headlights shine into my back windshield, and I begin the two-minute drive to my house. I park in my garage and West drives in behind me, leaving his truck idling. I step out of my car as West rolls down his window, saying nothing. As always, I scoop a handful of cat food and leave it on the porch for my cats. I slide my key into the lock and slowly turn back toward him. I’m unsure if I want to thank him for saving me or slap him for berating me, but he beats me to the punch.

“No more sleazy bars and dating games, Alex. Use your damn head,” he taunts with a cutting coldness.

I glare at him and shake my head in disbelief. “You are a piece of work, do you know that? You want nothing to do with me and still you think you have a say in how I live my life.”

“Don’t make me call your father, because you know I will.”

“My father? You have got to be kidding me,” I yell, throwing my hands up in the air. “So that’s how you want to play this? You’re gonna tell my daddy on me? Fuck you, West!”

I turn and open the door, slamming it before he has a chance to reply. I throw my purse on the counter and pace the kitchen floor, fuming. My pulse thrums in my ears, almost drowning out the light knock on the door.

I turn my eyes to the paned glass and see West standing there, arms gripping the doorframe, head lowered. His body is rigid, perfectly still, and silently threatening. I take slow, measured steps. I reach out, turn the knob, and open the door without saying a word.

He lifts his head in silence and levels me with a menacing stare. Moments pass, and I widen my eyes in irritated expectation.

Only his mouth moves as his body hums with tension. “You can stomp around like a petulant child to your heart’s content, Alex. Have at it, babe. I don’t care. But you will take precautions, or I’ll take them for you.”

“Who in the hell
are
you?” I don’t recognize the person in front of me, and it stings like hell. My eyes plead with him, but he gives me nothing but a blank stare—a mask held firmly in place.

“No one you know.” He pushes off the doorframe and backs away.

“I don’t believe that, West. I don’t believe that for one second.” I charge at him and grab his shirt, fisting the material, pulling him toward me. “I want you to look me in the eye and say there’s nothing here for me.”

His face pinches in anger, and he hesitates. That one second, that tiny moment of pause, is all I need. Before a word can leave his lips, I make a split second decision.

Screw it.

I shoot up onto my toes, grab his neck, and crash my lips to his. It’s a furious meeting of tongues and teeth, but he doesn’t push me away. He pushes back against my lips, bruising, almost brutal, but oh-so-delicious. He grabs my ass and grinds into me, his hard cock pressing into my stomach.

“Is this what you want, Alex?”

“Yes. It’s what I need.” My voice is raspy, dripping with desire. I’m peeling my cardigan off and backing into the doorway with no reservations, no second thoughts.

He kicks the door closed and whips me around to face the wall, hands secured above my head, pinned. His calloused fingertips run up the back of my thighs and pull my dress to my waist in one swift motion. On the descent, his fingers coil around the strings of my thong and yank. The material rips instantly and flutters to the ground at my feet. I push back into his hardness, craving the connection, the friction.

He moves away slightly and runs his fingers down my already drenched seam. He plunges them into me, and I rock back on a moan.

“That’s it, Alex. Fuck yourself on my fingers.”

I ram back into his hand over and over, only faintly hearing the clank of a belt buckle, the familiar sound of a zipper, the rustling of clothes. My mind is clouded with pulsing need, overwhelming desire. His hand wraps around my hair and twists just as his other hand leaves my body, making me whimper at the loss. He tugs my hair roughly, making me arch my back. His lips trace the curve of my ear. His cock is lined up at my entrance.

“Tell me to stop,” he demands. “Make me leave, Alex.”

“No,” I whisper defiantly as I thrust back, causing him to push into me in one smooth movement. I feel deliciously full as he stretches me to my limits. My eyes roll back in pleasure.

He’s buried to the hilt, and a primal growl escapes from him. I turn my head slightly, and his lips cover mine just as he pulls out and thrusts back in. He fucks me with such a pounding force; my arm muscles are tense against the wall to keep from crashing into it. All restraint is gone, and his kisses turn into bites. His hand is still wrapped around my hair, holding me in place. The dull throb of my scalp only serves as another catalyst to intense pleasure. Every sensation pulsing through my body drives me toward my climax, pushes me closer to the edge.

West plunges deeply, savagely, staying buried deep inside as he grinds into me. The friction is all I need to fall over the edge, crying out at the overwhelming pleasure.

His movements become frantic as I ride out my orgasm, one wave crashing into another. He plants himself inside me to the root as he comes with a deafening roar.

His grip loosens on my hair, and his forehead drops to my shoulder. Both of our chests heave from exertion, and he slowly exits my body. My mind races, trying to process what just happened.

“Fuck!” His fist slams into the wall, and I flinch at the sound. I keep still as I hear the sounds of him cleaning up behind me. I stand to my full height and pull my skirt down to cover myself. I stay facing away from him, petrified of what I might see in his eyes. Regret? Indifference?

I feel his presence behind me—quiet and brooding. I’m almost certain his mask is firmly back in place.

He leans into me, his lips inches from my ear. I shut my eyes, bite my bottom lip, and wait for the inevitable.

“There’s nothing here for you, Alex.”

I don’t turn around as his footsteps slowly and methodically tap across the floor, back in complete control. I stay firmly in place when I hear the click of the lock. I hear his truck engine turn over, and the first tear splashes onto my cheek. As the lights disappear from the driveway, I turn and face the kitchen, my back sliding down the wall.

And I sob.