A Redo (The Sterling Shore Series #6) (18 page)

Chapter 24

ALLIE

“Just one more album?” Billy asks, smiling over at me.

I keep scooting away, and he keeps scooting closer. What’s sad is that he doesn’t even really want to get to know me. He just wants to recruit me to piss off Wren, and he’s really underestimating my intelligence if he thinks I haven’t caught on.

I keep coming up with diplomatic responses, subtly extracting myself from his close proximity over and over. But I’ve finally shifted to the end of the sofa, and I’m out of room.

“I think two albums is plenty for tonight. But I’ll send Melanie several for you to look over.”

I stand, but he stays on the sofa.

“But Mom doesn’t know the stories behind the photos. You’re going to Aspen. I’m going to Aspen. I can get the tickets fixed so that we can ride together on the plane. You can fill me in then if you want to.”

He hasn’t done anything obvious that makes me uncomfortable. He’s subtle, but a subtle snake still carries a strong bite.

Screaming tires outside cause me to jump, and my eyes dart over to the window. Billy hops up, looking around, confused. That sounded like it was right outside.

Billy jogs over to the door to investigate, but it swings open before he reaches it, and I gasp as Wren storms in with murder in his eyes.

Oh… shit.

Billy takes a step back, eyeing Wren as he stands there looking ready to cut him in half.

“The hell is your pro—”

Billy doesn’t get to finish that statement. My breath leaves in a rush when Wren grabs his brother by the shirt, and my heartbeat thuds in my ears when he throws him outside.

Billy thuds and tumbles off the small wanna-be porch, and I run behind Wren as he stalks back outside.

“Wren! Stop!” I yell, stumbling over my own two feet in my haste, and barely stopping myself from falling.

My adrenaline pumps like fire through my veins, and my brain struggles to keep up with everything around me. Billy staggers to his feet, and a growl comes from his throat before he throws a punch.

Wren has no problem dodging it, and he retaliates by slamming his fist into Billy’s face. I’m a nurse, and still the bone crunching noise and spray of blood churns my stomach as bile rises to my throat.

“Stop!” I yell again, too smart to step into the middle of a dogfight.

Wren hates the sight of blood. He couldn’t even stand close when I sewed up Rye’s hand a few months ago. He’s told me more than once he might need help with putting a bandage on Angel’s skinned knee if it happens.

Yet he stands in front of Billy, unaffected, and still furious before punching him in the stomach and sending Billy to the ground.

More tires squeal as a car jerks to a halt behind Wren’s, and I watch as Corbin dives out, leaving his door wide open and his car still running as he runs toward the dogfight.

Wren is already pulling Billy up, and slamming his knee into his side, but Corbin rips him off Billy and struggles to hold him back, even though he’s nothing but a body of muscle.

“Fucking stop!” Corbin yells, his longer hair falling and getting in his face. “He’s your brother!”

Billy slowly crawls up to his knees, spitting out blood. Wren’s lip is bleeding, so obviously I missed a shot to the face that he took. I never saw Billy get a hit in.

“We’re done!” Wren growls, glaring at Billy. “Too far this time. Too fucking far.”

Billy looks at Wren like he has lost his mind, and Corbin struggles to keep Wren in check.

“You need a hospital, dude,” Corbin says to Billy before shoving Wren toward me. “Pretty sure that nose is broken.”

I immediately get in front of Wren, hoping he won’t just move me aside and attack again. But I’m surprised when he clutches my side and pulls me against him.

“I just came over to talk to her, you psycho fucker!” Billy yells in between spitting out mouthfuls of blood because his nose is gushing and running down.

Wren takes a menacing step forward, and I push back on him, my eyes darting panicky toward Corbin. There’s no way in hell I’m big enough to keep Wren from going after Billy again if he wants to. I swear he’s solid rock and towers over me. At 5’5, I feel like a dainty little girl next to him.

“Come near her again, and I swear I’ll break both of your legs.”

Corbin turns to look at me, seeming more confused than anything else. I’m freaked out. Not confused.
Confused
is too mild of an emotion for this craziness.

“Get him inside,” Corbin says to me. “I’ll get Billy to a doctor.”

I start shoving at Wren, but it’s like trying to budge a brick wall.

“Wren, please. Move your feet. My neighbors are going to call the cops.”

He glances down at me, and his hands go to my hips before he lifts me up from the ground like I’m weightless. His arms slide around my waist, and my feet dangle as he carries me toward the house, his body still vibrating with fury.

“Your lip is cut,” I say softly, ignoring the way my body feels against his as he kicks the door shut behind him.

Surprisingly, his lip isn’t still bleeding. I brush the small bit of blood away with my thumb, trying not to acknowledge how soft his lips feel.

He carries me to the kitchen, gently putting me down, and forces me to release his face when he goes to the sink. He barely turns it on, but breathes in relief when he sees that the plumber he sent did fix it.

I don’t mention the fact he sent a plumber instead of attempting it himself because he was avoiding me—avoiding the tension with
us.

The water runs over his hands, and I watch all the blood running from his hands and into the drain. Blood doesn’t seem to bother him as much as he once insinuated, or maybe his adrenaline is still pumping so hard that he doesn’t notice. Even though his hands look swollen, there aren’t any cuts, so that blood isn’t his.

My eyes move to his lip to see the blood is no longer there, and it seems to be a shallow cut that isn’t bothering him.

“Did he touch you?” he asks, confusing me as he comes to lift me off the counter.

I tilt my head, moving my eyes from his soft lips to his angry gaze. “No. Of course not. I wouldn’t have let him touch me.”

My legs dangle down the length of his body, and I gingerly wrap my arms around his shoulders, wondering why he insists on putting me in this intimate position right now. He narrows his eyes, still holding me so that I’m eye-level with him.

“Why?”

He still sounds so damn pissed, and his jaw ticks with every word. I’ve only ever seen him angry once, and that’s when we fought. Everyone talks about how Wren
never
gets angry. I just saw him obliterate his brother in my front yard.

I’m starting to think Wren just doesn’t usually let people see the real him, because he’s nothing more than a lit stick of dynamite that is due to explode at any moment. Yet for some reason, I feel completely safe in his arms.

“Why what?” I ask when he continues to stare expectantly.

“Why wouldn’t you have let him?”

I’m torn between slapping him for asking that and kissing him to answer his question. I hate being turned on and pissed at the same time, and Wren is the master at making me feel that way.

And how is he still holding me up without straining at all?

“I’d never do anything to cause more problems with you and your brother, even if I did like him—which I don’t. I feel terrible about this. But mostly it’s because Billy isn’t the guy I want, and you’re well aware of that.”

My breath catches in my throat when he spins me, and my back thuds against the wall. His hands drop my waist once my weight is distributed between him and the wall, and he grabs my knees, pulling them up and forcing my legs to go around his waist as he leans down and nips my neck.

My entire body shivers, and I cling to his shoulders.

“Tell me to stop, Allie,” he whispers against my skin.

Stop? Why the hell would I want him to stop?

“No,” I whisper back, and something snaps inside of Wren.

His gaze heats. A pin is jerked from a grenade, a trigger is pulled on a loaded gun, and fire is set to a gasoline trail… Wren Prize loses his control.

He roughly pulls and spins me away from the wall, and when his lips find mine, there’s nothing gentle about his touch. He’s savage, hungry, and won’t be denied. It’s bruising and animalistic. It’s wild and carnal. It’s desperate and so damn good.

Heat spreads all over me in a way it never has before, and shock hits when I realize all those weird moaning sounds are coming from me. Wren swallows every sound, muting them mostly, greedily drinking me in like he doesn’t want anything escaping us.

It doesn’t even register that he’s been carrying me around the house until a bed is suddenly against my back, and he’s coming down on top of me. He settles between my legs, ravaging my mouth like he can’t get enough. No way in hell am I risking him backing out now. To hell with the pro/con list.

We’re both adult enough to handle this if it goes bad. Angel won’t get hurt. We’ll figure it out.

He grinds against me, and my mind tunes out the inner turmoil stirring inside. All that matters are his hips rocking, and all that separates us are a few thin layers of clothing that I want gone.

“Are you drunk?” I whisper, suddenly realizing this is so out of character for him.

He laughs humorlessly while drawing back enough to look into my eyes. “I wish I was. Then I’d have a reason for acting like a lunatic. What the hell are you doing to me?”

He doesn’t give me time to answer before he’s kissing me again, grinding his hips into me almost painfully. But all I can focus on is the feel of his erection that is straining against his pants. Oh. Dear. God. I just whimpered.

With one hand, he pulls his shirt over his head, and then he tosses it aside as though he finds it offensive. My hands slide up his chest, feeling the bare, hard, unnaturally perfect flesh beneath my fingertips.

Ah, hell. I just whimpered again.

“Last chance to back out, Allie,” he whispers across my lips, but it’s hard to let the words find meaning, because his hand is sliding up my shirt, pushing it up higher and higher.

When I don’t respond, he groans and leans over. His soft, inky black hair tickles my side seconds before his soft lips brush against the sensitive flesh under my breasts. Reflexively, my body jerks, and I feel like an idiot. It’s been a while since someone has been in a bed with me. In fact, no one has been in
my
bed… ever.

My thoughts are abruptly yanked away by Wren’s teasing tongue as he slides his mouth lower. It’s not until then that I see he has my jeans undone and sliding them down.

My body arches against him as my eyes try to roll back in my head. His lips are dangerously close to my panties, and the heat of his breath warms the fabric, teasing me through the thin layer.

My jeans slide lower on my legs, and he moves so that he can tear them away completely. His lips trace back up, and a small breath of surprise escapes me when my panties slowly start sliding down.

The frantic pace of our earlier kiss doesn’t match the methodical pace of his hands now. It’s torture. I hate slow forep—

“
Oh damn,”
I say embarrassingly loud when his tongue attacks without warning.

I look down the length of my body to see Wren between my wide-spread legs, his hands on my hips, as his lips and tongue work together to do divine things. The visual stimulant along with the physical touch is too much, and my stomach clenches when my release threatens to emerge so damn soon.

My head falls back as my eyes close, and I try to shut my legs when the feeling becomes overwhelming, almost painfully good. His pace is relentless, as though he’s pushing me over the finish line without remorse when he sucks that bundle of nerves, flicking his tongue against it as well, taking no prisoners.

Wren’s strong hands clamp down on my legs, keeping me spread for him, and I let out an embarrassing, scream/cry as stars detonate behind my eyelids. My entire body tries to shoot off the bed as I grip his soft hair, hoping I’m not making him bald.

I’d probably be bucking off the bed and falling onto the floor if Wren’s hands weren’t holding me in my place, letting me ride out the orgasm that makes all other orgasms look ridiculous by comparison.

He starts kissing his way up, and my body shudders against every touch, feeling far too sensitive for any sort of physical contact right now. But it doesn’t stop him from continuing to lick, nip, and kiss all the way up to my bra.

His hands slide under me, and I feel the bra loosen before he pulls it off me and tosses it aside. His wicked grin transforms his face, and I almost blush—but it takes more strength than I have.

“Am I going to fast?” he asks, but then his mouth latches onto my nipple, and the ability to speak gets harder.

“Not fast enough,” I mutter, almost breathless, and he releases something that sounds like a growl before his lips find mine again.