Saints Of Denver: Charged Part 5

I shook my head at her. A coward was the least of what I was, but that was exactly what I didn't want her to find out. "Stop it, Avett. This isn't necessary or appropriate."

She laughed but it held no humor in it. "No, Quaid, you aren't necessary or appropriate."

I blew out an irritated breath. We were getting a lot of looks and making a scene. I didn't need the kind of attention we were drawing. I didn't need stories of this little interlude making it back to the firm. I threw my arms up in exasperation and let them fall to my sides.

"I don't know what you thought was happening here, but it was just a job. You are a client, like any other client I represent, Avett. Nothing more, nothing less."

She laughed again and started to back away from me like I had something contagious and she was at risk of catching it. "I guess when you get paid to lie, making a living fooling judges and juries, you get really good at buying your own bulls.h.i.+t. Thanks for your hard work, Counselor. I'll think about you every single time I'm living up to my potential."

She was talking about having s.e.x with someone else. She was talking about getting off with a guy that wasn't me. She was talking about someone else getting ahold of all that wild and sweet and letting them get lost inside of it. She made it sound dirty and cruel. It was the way it had to be, but that didn't mean that it didn't burn and blister when she wheeled around on her heel and stalked off, right as Sayer Cole and a man that could give Brite a run for his money when it came to sheer size approached where I was stuck on the spot.

When they paused next to me, I turned towards them and noticed the big, bearded man's arm where it rested on Sayer's slim waist. It wasn't a casual touch at all, which was surprising. Sayer was so proper, so formal and stiff, whenever I was around her. I knew that her having this man's hands on her meant something serious, something more than a polite touch between attorney and client.

I grinned at her and the man glowered at me like he wanted to take my head off. I thought it was amusing, and I needed the break in the tension left over from my confrontation with Avett.

Sayer made a gentle quip about my skills with the ladies failing where Avett was concerned and I told her honestly, "Yeah, she's one of my more challenging clients without a doubt. She needs to learn to listen to me or she's going to end up in jail." I let my gaze skim over the other man and tried to figure out how a guy that looked like he had just escaped the wilderness of Alaska had won over Sayer and all her reservations when I hadn't been able to make a dent. I wanted to be envious, but I was still so conflicted about doing the right thing versus what I actually wanted to do with Avett that I blurted out, "She's a pain in my a.s.s and a spoiled brat, but I don't think she deserves to serve hard time. I did my d.a.m.nedest to get her charges dismissed."

The lumberjack scowled at me and growled in a tone that I bet made other men run for the hills, "Avett is a good kid. She fell in with a s.h.i.+tty crowd. She definitely doesn't deserve to end up in jail for what went down at the bar. She has a good family that will look out for her. Obviously, if they're paying your bill."

I reared back in surprise that he knew who Avett was as he offered up an explanation. I was also surprised to know he was connected to Brite, as well as Asa. For being such a metropolitan city, sometimes Denver felt like a really small town where everyone knew everyone else.

Sayer cleared her throat and introduced me to her client. He offered his hand and I wasn't at all surprised by his firm, no-nonsense handshake. The guy wanted to hurt me, wanted to stake his claim on the gorgeous blonde standing between us, and it was there in his grasp.

I made a totally unnecessary comment about him hanging out with people p.r.o.ne to needing legal help and both he and Sayer shut me down, rightly so. I wasn't sure why I was being so antagonistic, maybe to distract them from my blowup with the girl I couldn't get off my mind. Maybe I was looking for a fight, for something to take my mind off the twist of regret and disappointment that was coiling around my insides from watching Avett walk away.

Even though I knew she was going to say no, even though I knew it was going to p.i.s.s off the giant, bearded behemoth that had clearly claimed her as his, I still blurted out, "I have a dinner party coming up with the partners in a few months. I was going to call you to see if you wanted to go with me, but since we're both here now, I figure it doesn't hurt to throw the invite out in person. I'd love for you to be my date for the night, Sayer." It was a lie. I was never going to call her, even if she was the ideal woman to take to the dinner party. Sayer was beautiful but she was so much more than that. Orsen would get off my case about finding a f.u.c.k buddy if I brought a woman around that seemed like she would fill the crater in my life and in my confidence that Lottie had left. My boss was looking for the old Quaid back. The problem being, the old Quaid was make-believe, and the new Quaid was having a really hard time keeping the bits and pieces of the man that wasn't real in place.

The other man let out a low growl and I immediately felt bad for putting Sayer on the spot between the two of us. I was being an a.s.s and it had nothing to do with her. I couldn't blame her for the ice in her tone when she flatly turned me down and put me in my place. "No. Thank you for asking, but I already told you that I'm not interested in pursuing that kind of relations.h.i.+p with you. I'm sorry, Quaid."

I kept my expression pleasant and tried to smooth things over. I ran into Sayer a lot, in and out of court, so I didn't want the easy friends.h.i.+p we'd built to be destroyed because I couldn't keep all the things trying to escape me contained. Avett had dented the s.h.i.+eld I kept up and now the protection I was used to having had weakened. All the more reason to stay away from her. "I'm a lawyer. It's my job to try to persuade people to see things my way. I'll see you around. Good luck today."

She mumbled something and hurried away with the lumberjack hot on her heels. I didn't miss the murderous look he shot me over his shoulder before the doors to the courthouse closed.

As if I hadn't been enough of an a.s.s by embarra.s.sing a good woman that I considered a friend and picking a useless fight with a guy that looked like he could bench-press my truck with one hand tied behind his back, I decided to go all-in on the rashness and scrolled through my phone until I found the email that had Avett's personal information in it.

As I walked towards my truck, I tapped out a quick message and told myself I would do the same for any client. It was a lie. I never texted clients and I very rarely let them have access to my cell phone number. Avett was right; I was extremely well acquainted with believing my own bulls.h.i.+t. I had been doing it ever since I left behind the mountains and the kid that came from nothing, had nothing, was nothing. Only, now buying into it seemed impossible, now that she had burst into my life in a blaze of bad decisions, looming felony charges. She wasn't fooled by any of the falsehoods that made up my life careful piece by careful piece. Her honesty and accountability were contagious and I felt like I was infected.

Avett, if you need me when you get the subpoena to testify against the ex, let me know. I really am here to help and I know you are nervous about facing him. I'm offering as someone that can be your friend, not as your attorney.

Nothing.

I got nothing back and it made me want to throw my phone out the window as I drove downtown to where my office was located. I wanted to call her and tell her to stop being stubborn, to take the help when it was offered, to ignore the fact I pulled away and shut her down. I wanted to demand that she try and kiss me again. I would let her. I would kiss her back, and I wasn't sure I would stop there. I wanted to touch that wild, to get lost in it. I wanted to taste the sweet, to savor it.

I was pus.h.i.+ng through the front doors of the building, mentally preparing for my next meeting, when my phone finally pinged with a message. I literally held my breath as I turned it over to see her reply. I wasn't surprised at her response.

I already told you: I don't want your help.

I sighed and fired back: Well, you have it, regardless.

I went from being absolutely sure I had nothing to give anyone to feeling a pressing need to give this confusing girl everything I had left.

I don't want anything from you, Legal Eagle. Your job is done and I'm no longer your client and we definitely aren't friends.

A smile tugged at my lips at the asinine nickname she lobbed at me.

My a.s.sistant said something to me that went over my head as I completely ignored her, slamming my way into my office. I threw my bag on the desk and swore as my laptop slid out once again, hitting the desk with a thud. I was going to be lucky if the d.a.m.n thing still turned on since I still hadn't gotten around to replacing it from the first fall.

At some point, between meeting Avett Walker and deciding that I was desperate to kiss her and had to capture some of her tempest, the need for perfection, the drive to keep up appearances had faded to a dull throb at the back of my brain and became nothing more than an obnoxious itch under my skin.

I'm very aware you are no longer my client, Avett. That's why you have my cell phone number. I don't give that out to my clients. Use it if you need it.

She didn't send anything back but I didn't really expect her to.

I didn't want to be her friend or her lawyer ... I wanted to be something else entirely. I also wanted to be someone else entirely, and that scared me more than the fact that I wanted to get Avett naked and under me with every single thing inside of me.

CHAPTER 7.

Avett

I pulled the curtains back from the window in my bedroom and peered out into the darkness in front of my dad's house. A single black car was parked at the curb across the street, which wouldn't typically bother me, but this car had arrived only after my dad left for the night, telling me he was going to pick my mom up from the bar and take her home. Which meant he was going to spend the night with her, something he did pretty much every single night she worked the closing s.h.i.+ft at the bar that we used to own.

I was alone in the big house and wouldn't have even noticed the black car if the tatted-up neighbor and his shrew of a girlfriend hadn't gotten into a screaming match that rivaled anything I was watching on TV. To be fair, it was the guy's leggy and mouthy girlfriend doing all the screaming, something about the wedding coming up in a few months and him not being invested enough in helping her with the seating chart. It seemed like a conversation that should be taking place calmly and privately inside the cute house across the street, but the girlfriend apparently wanted an audience. The gorgeous, auburn-haired man did a lot of nodding, a lot of placating, and a lot of apologizing, but all his rea.s.surances made the woman louder and madder. I watched the train wreck happening from a crack in the front door, only noticing the car with the two men seated in it after the screaming girlfriend had driven off in a huff and a squeal of tires. I couldn't believe the auburn haired guy gave her the keys to that cherry Caddy after her bulls.h.i.+t, but he handed them over, shook his ginger topped head, and skulked inside. I wanted to go over and tell him to cut and run. He was really cute, and no p.u.s.s.y was worth the kind of headache that chick was going to be for the long haul, but I got distracted by the men that were, very noticeably, staring right at my house.

I slammed the door shut, threw the bolt, and slid the safety chain in place. I tried to tell myself I was being paranoid, that maybe they were waiting for one of the neighbors to get home or something, but it was after ten and any reason I could come up with for them to be sitting across from my house, in the dark, seemed to fall short. I sprinted from room to room, switching on all the lights, until the house was practically glowing. I left the light in my bedroom off as I tiptoed across the floor and made my way to the window. I squinted into the dark to see if I could make out any actual faces on the people in the car, but all I could see was the brilliant red of the lit end of a cigarette glowing in the pitch-black interior of the vehicle.

I s.n.a.t.c.hed my cell phone off the charger next to my bed and scrolled to my dad's number. I was getting ready to hit the call b.u.t.ton when I realized he would come running, even if there was a perfectly reasonable explanation for the car to be there. I would ruin his evening with my mom, who still hadn't forgiven me for my most recent litany of poor choices, and they would both be disappointed I interrupted their limited time together, and my mom would have one more reason to shake her head and give me that look of silent judgment and recrimination I felt like she had been directing at me forever. I needed to make things right with the woman that raised me and I needed to let my dad have his time with her. That was the right thing to do. I could figure out a way to handle this on my own.

I bit my lip and tapped the phone against my leg. It seemed like it had been hours but it had only been a few minutes. Still, the car and the men inside of it hadn't moved. I thought about calling Asa. He would also come running as soon as I told him I was freaked out. The blond southerner seemed to have an uncanny ability to show up when things were at their worst, and even if he wasn't exactly my biggest fan, he seemed determined to keep my a.s.s out of the fire since I was so p.r.o.ne to dancing in the flames. I think I reminded him of some of the poor choices he had made when he was younger. He had it in his head he could help me be a better person by teaching me from his mistakes. The only problem with calling Asa was that he would tell my dad. As soon as I got off the phone with him, he would call Brite, then both of them would show up for something that could be nothing, and I would feel like an idiot for wasting everyone's time.

Typically in this kind of situation, I would do nothing, but nothing was what always ended up being the absolute worst choice I could make, so I debated between walking outside and tapping on the window or doing the smart thing and calling the police. I settled on a decision that landed somewhere in the middle, deciding to do what fell between completely reckless and disgustingly logical, and let my index finger hit the call b.u.t.ton next to Quaid's name.

I kept my eyes glued to the car and held my breath as the phone rang and rang. I had serious doubts he would even answer, considering the way we left things and at this late of an hour, but he said he wanted to be something like a friend, and I could really use one of those right about now. Besides, he had proven awesome and consistent at offering his help, even when I was convinced I didn't want it.

I was getting ready to hang up and do the really stupid thing by going outside to investigate the situation myself when his gruff, sleepy, and heavy voice finally came across the line.

"Avett? What's going on? Are you in trouble?" I heard the rustle of bedsheets and the sound of something being knocked over. The sounds created images of him tangled up and in bed, images that made my mouth go dry and my palms get damp, but his words had my spine stiffening and my eyes narrowing.

"I'm always in some kind of trouble." And considering I was imagining him naked, which took a little work since I had no idea what he was working with under that suit, trouble was something that never seemed so appealing.

"What kind of trouble are you in?" He was moving around and it sounded like he was pulling on clothes. I wondered if he slept naked and if he was putting one of his impeccably pressed suits back on.

"Um ... I'm not exactly sure. I'm home alone and there's this car parked across the street. There are two men in it and they haven't moved for the last half hour. I'm probably being paranoid but it's freaking me out. I wasn't sure what I should do."

"Where's your dad?" His question was practically growled at me and I swore I heard the jingle of keys in the background.

"He's with my mom. He only spends the night with her a few nights a week. I didn't want to interrupt them because it could be nothing. I'm trying to be responsible. Do you think I should call the police?"

I peeked out the curtain again and gasped when I saw the glint of the front porch light reflected off of something gla.s.s. Someone in the car was peering into the house with a pair of binoculars. There was no denying they were watching the house and me.

"Give me twenty. I'll call the police when I get there, if need be. They'll respond faster to my call than yours. Stay inside. Stay away from all the windows and doors. I'll text you when I get there." I heard a door slam and the sound of him moving but my brain was stuck on the "give me twenty." He was coming. He didn't think I was being paranoid and overreacting, and even if he did, he was still coming and not making me feel stupid for calling him. He was the best almost-friend I had had in a long time.

"Uh, okay ... It really might be nothing though." Nothing, except two strange men with binoculars parked outside of my house watching me.

"Avett." He said my name with some bite to it and it made me s.h.i.+ver. "You're the primary witness in a high profile case that has ties to drug trafficking. It's very unlikely two men parked outside of your house, in the middle of the night, is nothing. Don't do anything crazy. Just wait until I get there."

"I've retired all my crazy, Quaid. A stint in jail will do that to a girl. Reasonable and sensible are my new middle names." I was trying to make light of the situation but a s.h.i.+ver of unease was making my skin p.r.i.c.kle.

I hadn't thought about the men in the car being tied to Jared and the illegal things he was involved in. The last time I had a run-in with his a.s.sociates I'd been beaten and very nearly raped. I knew the way the men he did business with operated. I could happily live the rest of forever without any more exposure to their handiwork. Suddenly, the original idea I had of going outside and confronting them myself seemed infinitely more than foolish and hasty; it seemed deadly and dangerous. It was a d.a.m.n miracle that I, with my innate need to screw up and pick the worst option, had managed to skip that choice and jump right into the one that involved the hot as h.e.l.l lawyer coming to my rescue ... again.

Quaid grunted at me again and I heard an engine start. It purred with power and rumbled s.e.xily in my ear. "Just stay reasonable and sensible until I get there. Crazy doesn't need to be retired indefinitely. It does, however, need to learn the proper time and place to make its appearance. I'll be there shortly."

I asked him if he needed my address and he told me he already had it from the paperwork he had on me.

He hung up, without saying good-bye, and I stuck my phone in the front pocket of the baggy overalls I was wearing. I looked out the curtain again; this time I was sure the binoculars were pointed right at the window I was looking out. I let the heavy material fall back down and put a hand to my racing heart. I had a bad feeling about all of this.

I should call my dad and let him know what was going on. I should tell him that I was scared and that I wanted to make better choices now so that he didn't have to save me from myself anymore. I wanted to be my own hero for once. I didn't want to be the girl that knew she deserved the worst so she never even attempted to show the world or the people that loved her, her best.

I think I held my breath for the entire twenty minutes as I paced back and forth in front of my bed. I didn't exhale until I heard that same s.e.xy purr that had been in the background of my phone call with Quaid outside my window. I crept along the wall and gingerly pulled the curtains back a hint so I could see what was happening outside. I was directly ignoring the order he gave me, but I'd done about as much smart decision making as I was capable of for one day and my reserves were dry.

A brilliantly red, supersleek motorcycle, which was as opposite as it could be from the ma.s.sive chrome-and-black Harley my dad rode, pulled to a stop in front of the house. I watched, in shock, as the man sitting on the mini rocket s.h.i.+p swung a leg across the wicked and s.e.xy machine and stared up at the very spot I was standing. I saw the helmeted head shake, and then the black and red protective gear was removed and Quaid Jackson's messy blond hair was revealed as it glinted in the overhead moonlight.

He kept the helmet under one arm and started across the street where the black car was still parked. I was riveted by the way he walked, confident and with obvious purpose. I was also mesmerized by the fact he had on dark jeans, which did wonders for his backside, and the leather jacket he had on seemed to fit him as well, and looked as expensive and designer as his fancy court duds. The man looked like a G.o.d in a suit. In jeans and the red-and-black leather jacket that matched the paint job on the motorcycle, he looked much more approachable, more accessible ... to someone like me. He was still outrageously out of my league, but he seemed less rigid and formal in his after-hours gear.

The bike totally worked for him, too. It wasn't at all like the mean and beastly American machines I had grown up around. That Italian bike was made to go fast and to look good while it zipped around corners and tore up the asphalt. It was elegant and sharp. It purred, instead of growled, and I wondered if the man that rode it did the same thing. I never would have pictured him as a bike kind of guy. He seemed too stiff and serious to be the type to get off on the rush of wind in his hair and the exhilaration of riding free. Most people considered street bikes a hundred times more dangerous than the big cruising bikes that my dad and his buddies rode. Quaid Jackson didn't strike me as a risk taker; at least, he hadn't until he'd shown up at my house in the middle of the night on that gorgeous monster of a machine.

He was halfway across the street, his gaze focused on the car, when the driver started the motor and peeled away from the curb. Quaid had to jump back to avoid getting run over as the car raced away, and he turned to watch it as it disappeared down the street, without turning the headlights on. He stared into the darkness for a long minute, then turned his tawny head in my direction. I wiggled my fingers in a tiny wave that made him scowl. He looked like an angry bird of prey stalking its next meal. It made my body throb and my heart pulse erratically against my ribs.

He turned on his heel and headed towards the front of the house, so I dropped the curtains one last time and raced down the stairs. I pulled open the front door just as his heavy boots. .h.i.t the top step.

I was heated and fl.u.s.tered and didn't bother to hide my reaction to him. He let his gaze sweep over me from head to toe, and I had a second of regret that my hair was in a messy topknot and that my overalls were not only two sizes too big, but also a holdover from my high school wardrobe. They were comfy and cute but they had definitely seen better days, and even with Quaid dressed in jeans and a formfitting black T-s.h.i.+rt, I still felt underdressed and seriously outcla.s.sed.

"Thank you for coming. I really wasn't sure what I should do or if I should make a big deal out of it." I stepped aside so he could come into the house and watched as his eyes skittered around the well-lived-in and homey interior. He made his way over to the worn couch and tossed the s.h.i.+ny helmet he still held under his arm onto it.

"Considering they took off and almost ran me over as soon as I got close enough to make out their faces and read the license plate on the car, I would say a big deal needs to be made out of it." He turned and faced me, and I stopped being able to breathe as I saw the predatory look on his face. He didn't look like a legal eagle at the moment. He looked like a normal eagle, ready to strike and devour. He was all golden and glorious, his obvious anger and concern making him a thousand times hotter than he normally was. The fact that the anger was on my behalf, that the concern was for my well-being, made me tingle in places I didn't know could tingle. Seriously, the guys that I had been into before Quaid Jackson weren't the type that made a girl tingle, but everything about Quaid had me feeling things I'd never felt before. It was alarming and exhilarating at the same time.

His deep voice distracted me from my body's warm reaction to his close proximity. "I would've taken a plate number down, but there wasn't a license plate on the car. That means whoever they were, they don't want to be found easily. I doubt it's a coincidence. I'm going to call the detective in charge of the case against the boyfriend and see if he'll get a patrol car to swing through the area periodically."

I nodded absently and clasped my hands nervously together in front of me. "Ex-boyfriend." I blurted it out automatically and saw his mouth tighten in response.

"Let your dad know what's going on, Avett. I don't like this. It doesn't feel right. And with you involved in this case still ..." He shook his head and some of his blond hair fell into his eyes. I wanted to reach up and push it off his forehead so badly that my fingers were twitching. "There is a lot of room for this to go bad on you."

I nodded again, and moved my hands to my back pockets so that I wouldn't reach for that wayward strand of hair and make a fool out of myself.

"I'll tell him. Things with him and my mom ..." I lifted a shoulder and let it fall. "They're complicated and I don't like to intrude on their time together."

He frowned at me and I noticed his pale gaze was locked on the way my pose pushed my chest up and out. All I had on under the overalls was a cutoff wife-beater that rested well above my navel. In fact, if I turned to the side, there was a clear shot of the hot-pink hipster panties I had put on after my shower this morning. It was an awesome outfit for watching Netflix and eating Jimmy John's while lounging around the house alone, not so much for trying to converse like a grown-up with a man that equally enticed and enraged me.

"They're both your parents. I'm sure your mom would understand that your dad needs to be here if something suspicious is going on."

Oh, she would understand, all right. She would understand that my dad was leaving her to rescue me, yet again, because I could never seem to do it myself and it would shove the wedge between us even farther apart.

I cleared my throat nervously. "She would understand, but my mom and I aren't exactly on the best terms and we haven't been for a while. I don't need to give her any more reason to hate me."

He blinked at me and lifted his hands to shove that rebellious piece of hair-I was obsessed-back in line with the rest of the golden strands. When he raised his arms, the hem of his T-s.h.i.+rt hiked up and I was treated to the visual of tight abs and a concave V that cut hard and ripped between his hips. The man was built, and picturing what he would look like out of his fancy duds and wrapped in nothing but his sheets got a whole lot easier. He was tall and lean with wide shoulders that tapered into a trim waist, and now that I knew he was rippling with ropy and taut muscle underneath his hands-off persona, I wanted nothing more than to be totally hands-on.

"Your mom doesn't hate you. I sat next to her at your arraignment and listened to her cry over you." He lifted an eyebrow at me and crossed his arms over his chest. I felt my eyes widen and lock on the way the muscles in his biceps bulged and flexed in the new position. "I told my folks I was joining the Army and I wouldn't see them for at least four years. Neither one of them shed a tear, so I know for a fact that, regardless of what you think, what your mom feels for you isn't hate." His tone was harsh as he dropped the surprisingly personal tidbit like a bomb at my feet.

"Your parents weren't worried about what might happen to you? They weren't sad to see you go, not knowing when they would see you again?" That seemed impossible to me. My mom often acted fed up and had no problem showing her frustration with me, but she was always there; she always worried about my well-being. I knew she wanted better for me, and I couldn't get my head around Quaid having parents that weren't insanely proud of everything he had accomplished, or the man he had become, since enlisting.

"They were mad I was leaving. When I enlisted, they viewed it as a disappointment and a betrayal to everything they taught me and believed in. I know what it looks like when a parent turns their back on you, Avett, and that isn't what you're dealing with when it comes to your mom."

I sucked in a breath at his stark honesty and told myself it would be entirely inappropriate to throw myself at him. He wasn't the tree in the backyard that I know knew enough not to climb, but something told me if I fell because of him, it would do a lot more damage than a broken arm.

"I've never been very good at doing the right thing, Quaid. Years and years of my dad having to pick up the pieces, of him being the one that rode to the rescue ..." I shook my head at him and gave him a rueful grin. "It took its toll on my mom, not only because I was always into something I shouldn't be, but because my dad never hesitated to dive in after me. I knew I was putting strain on their relations.h.i.+p, knew things were tense and that she was unhappy, but it never stopped me from s.c.r.e.w.i.n.g up. That makes me a pretty awful person, no matter how you look at it, Counselor. The evidence is compelling."

He continued to watch me. Then he was walking towards me and I was walking backwards as he advanced. We kept going until my back was pressed up against the hard wood of the front door and he was all I could see in front of me. He put an arm above my head and I had to tilt my head back to keep eye contact. He was a couple inches away from being pressed fully against me, but every single part of my body felt like it was straining to close that gap. My nipples peaked hard and pointed directly at him; every single inch of my skin pebbled up and practically vibrated as he hovered out of reach.

"The evidence is circ.u.mstantial and prejudiced. You say you don't do the right thing, that you can't stop even though you know your actions are hurting the people around you, and hurting yourself time and time again. So my question to the defendant is ... why? Why do you keep making the wrong choice and keeping hurting yourself and others? What's the motive?" His breath whispered out and danced across my lips.

I let out a startled little gasp at the touch of it. His words kissed me as his eyes devoured me. Even though zero parts of us were touching, I could feel him all over, including deep down inside of me, where all kinds of feelings were starting to boil and pop under my skin. I couldn't hold back the urge to touch him anymore, so I lifted my shaking hands and put them on the center of his chest. Rock-hard muscle tensed at the light touch; my knees went a little weak at the contrasting texture of his soft cotton T-s.h.i.+rt and the cold brush from the unbending material of his leather jacket. He wrapped the hand that wasn't braced over my head around one of my wrists, and for a second I thought he was going to pull my hands off of him. Instead, his thumb found the soft spot on the inside of my wrist, where my pulse was racing, and started to brush back and forth.

"You don't want to hear my story. Remember?" The words squeaked out as he lowered his head a tiny bit, his pale blue eyes raging like a winter storm as we watched each other unblinkingly.

It was a story I never told to anyone, completely. My story was the opposite of a fairy tale, and I knew there was no way a happy ending was lurking somewhere beyond the ever present dead end. I was shocked that I wanted to tell him, wanted to explain to him, why I did the things I did. I wanted him to understand.

His chin dipped down and suddenly that gap that was separating us was gone. The tips of his boots were touching my bare toes. He dropped my wrist so that his hand could fit its way in the large gap at the side of the overalls and sit on my hip. That was a lot of naked skin his palm landed on and I could see the awareness flare to life in his gaze. Considering my small stature and the size of his hands, if he spread his fingers out he would be both under the edge of my tank top and at the top of my underwear at the same time. G.o.d, did I want him to put his hands all over me.

"I find myself wanting a lot of things I shouldn't want where you're concerned, Avett." His head lowered until his lips were separated from mine by nothing more than a whisper. "Like that kiss you tried to give me the other day. I wanted it so bad, which is why I couldn't take it. I don't have anything to give back if I take what you're offering. But I haven't been able to stop thinking about how it would feel, or about how you would taste." He exhaled and it made my lips part and my tongue dart out to try and capture his flavor and essence on the tip of it. I wanted to know how he tasted just as badly as he wanted to know how I tasted. His tone dropped lower, his voice rasping across sharp and pointy things deep inside of him as he told me, "I want the story and the kiss, Avett." His lips touched mine in a featherlight caress that made time stand still. Made me wonder if I had been born for no other reason than to kiss this man. "You can decide what order they come in." There was husky humor in his tone, but before he could close the final millimeter of s.p.a.ce between us, I pushed on his chest.

"This is a bad idea." I knew it. I could feel it deep in my bones and the allure of letting go, of doing what I always did, and falling headfirst into disaster, was pulling at me hard. But I was supposed to be changing. I was supposed to actually be sorry, not just saying it and turning around into the next catastrophe. I knew kissing Quaid Jackson was going to lead to all kinds of sorry and sorrow. I knew it as much as I knew I didn't care and that I was going to kiss him and chase this bad idea until it crashed and burned, like they always did.

"You made a lot of them lately. What's one more?"

He was right. What was one more? Especially when it looked like him, when it smelled sleepy and expensive like he did, when it felt hot and hard pressed up against me. What was one more awful choice when it came with lips that were firm and demanding as they landed against mine? What was one more impending disaster, when it was attached to rough hands that brushed along my exposed rib cage and paused under the achy swell of my breast? What was one more bad decision on top of all of the other ones that had led this particular mammoth-sized bad decision to my door?

I had plenty of time, tomorrow, to do the right thing, but now I was going to enjoy the h.e.l.l out of the wrong thing as he pressed his mouth more insistently into mine, taking the choice of which came first-the kiss or the story-out of my hands. Maybe that was why I was so drawn to him, so attracted to everything there was about him. He didn't give me the room or the chance to make any kind of choice, good or bad. He decided and I followed his lead towards victory or towards ruin ... and this kiss felt like it had both of those things threaded throughout it.