Lennox (17 page)

And then Lennox—he just stood there and took it. Hell, he tried
to cover for Nash with the McManuses. Why does he have to be so
passive? So accepting of his fate, of his lot in life? All his
bullshit about somedays, about trying to make things better—well,
sorry, but I think his someday is what he makes of it, and I’m
mad as hell that he’d push me away over it. He deserves better.

And so do I.

After a long, quiet drive down the ridgeline to clear my head, I
auto-pilot down the mountain and find myself pulling into the
driveway of Grandma Solt’s split-level house. God dammit. Of
course my brain wanted to come here. The smart thing would be to stay
away, especially now that there’s no way the McManuses don’t
know now exactly who I am. But I’ve already given Nash a piece
of my mind. I think it’s Lennox’s turn.

The lower level’s lights are on, in what I remember as being
the entertainment room. I remember lurking down there as a
sixteen-year-old while Amber perched on Lennox’s lap and we
watched cheesy horror movies for Halloween. I tried not to notice the
kisses she’d sneak with Lennox when they thought I wasn’t
looking. I tried so hard not to notice how deeply envious it made me
feel.

Fuck it. There’s no Amber Cartwright or anyone else around to
stop me now. If Lennox won’t hear me out, then I’m going
to be done with him, too.

I slip out of the Camaro and knock on the ground-level window of the
entertainment room. Lennox looms into view and cracks the window
open. “Jesus, El. You scared me.” His mouth twitches as
he studies me. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“I needed to see you again. Make sure you were all right.”

Lennox fiddles with the latches, and the entire window casing swings
open. I slide inside and land on the musty green carpet of the
entertainment room. Poor Grandma Solt. Her house looks like it hasn’t
been cleaned since Lennox went into prison. Drifts of paperwork,
medical equipment, and old photo albums line the wood panel walls of
the room, though I can see where Lennox has started to carve out
space. There’s just enough around the pool table in the center
for him to move around it, and a couple of freshly-stacked boxes rest
by the door.

That’s when it really hits me. He may be part of the McManus
crew, but they’ll never be a family to him, not in the same way
we were. I can remember picking his grandmother up from her surgery
one time when Lennox’s asshole shift leader wouldn’t let
him off work. I remember when they surprised him with a new
transmission for his birthday. Or the time Jagger and Nash fixed a
casserole from his grandmother’s recipe book one time when she
was too sick to fix it herself, cheese and eggs everywhere, but
somehow it turned out just fine. I can’t imagine Rory McManus
ever doing the same for Lennox.

“I’ll be fine.” Lennox scoops up a pool cue and
returns to his game, which he apparently was playing against himself.
“Dug the glass out of my arms, patched it up. Don’t even
need stitches this time.” He offers me a goofy grin, but it
comes off sad.

“He tried to
kill
you, Lennox.”

Lennox barks with sour laughter. “Yeah, well, he wouldn’t
be the first.”

He lines up a shot, but his arm shakes; the cue goes wild. The
bandages along his arm flex and shift as he curses to himself. He
looks like a disaster, even though I can tell from his damp hair and
warm, cedary smell that he’s showered. As angry as I am, all I
want to do is run my fingers through that hair.

Lennox leans the pool cue up against the wall and turns back toward
me with a sigh. Thoughts are warring on his face. He jams his hands
down into his jean pockets and hunches his shoulders as he looks me
over.

“What do you want, Elena?” He exhales. “What is it
that you
really
want? Because it can’t be some fuckup
like me. That’s not what the Elena I know deserves.”

I risk a step toward him. “But I do want you.”

“And I warned you.” He shuffles toward me, keeping his
hands in his pockets. I’m aching to feel his arms wrapped
around me again, but he seems determined not to. “I won’t
bring anything good into your life.”

“But you don’t understand. You already have.”

Lennox squeezes his eyes shut. His hands slide out of his pockets to
form tense fists at his sides. The lean muscles of his forearms and
his neck strain as he holds himself in place. If it were any other
guy, I’d be frightened by his barely checked anger. But this is
Lennox. I know he knows exactly how to contain it.

“You need to leave,” he whispers. His eyes open, that
dark brown aglow as he looks right at me. “Before I make
another bad decision.”

“What kind of bad decision?” I ask.

“The kind where I say fuck the consequences,” he
breathes. “And kiss you all over again.”

I close the distance between us, grab one of his fists, and curl it
around my waist. My breasts are pressed to his chest now; my breath
gusts against his collar. He whimpers softly and pulls me closer,
looking down at me like I’m a work of art to him.

“Do your worst,” I say.

Lennox’s lips crush against mine, warm and soft and spiced with
lust. I slide my hands under the thin white undershirt he’s
wearing. His heart hammers against my palm, matching the motion of
our mouths, surging together, hungering for each other. My tongue
caresses his; my fingers trace his abdomen. Lennox shudders under my
touch and rears back to catch his breath.

“No more backing out,” I tell him, fumbling with the
buckle of his belt. “Okay? I don’t care about the
consequences. The circumstances. I just want to be yours.”

He cradles my ass in his hands, reaching under the hem of my dress.
His thumb traces the line between my thighs until it reaches my
panties. “Sorry, El.” He grins. “You couldn’t
get rid of me now if you tried.”

I groan as his thumb finds its way to my center and coaxes me toward
pleasure. He’s fire and ice, his touch so cool and enticing as
his mouth heats me up, lips twisting against each other. He eases my
panties to one side, and I slide my hips up onto the pool table,
thighs widened to him.

“I want you,” Lennox breathes. “I want to bend you
over. See that beautiful ass in the air, that dark hair spilling down
your back.”

I bite my lower lip, hard, to stifle a moan. “So fucking take
me already.”

Lennox growls. Pulls me off the edge of the table. Then he spins me
around, rough, and, gripping the back of my head, presses my face
toward the soft green of the table. His hand holds me down as I hear
him wrestle with his belt. I’m soaking wet, so ready and primed
for him. But of course I am—he’s haunted my every fantasy
since I was a teen.

He shoves my dress up over my hips and peels my panties down. Cold
air glides over my ass, exposed to him. Lennox laughs to himself,
probably admiring the view. “Now there’s a sight I’ve
been dying to see.” He swats at my ass. I flinch, a frisson of
pleasure coursing through me. “And dying even more to feel.”

“So let me feel it,” I growl. “Let me feel every
inch of that cock.”

He laughs again. “Careful what you wish for.”

He teases the tip of his shaft against my clit. Electricity shoots
through my core. “Yes,” I whisper, squeezing my eyes
shut. “Please. Please, Lennox.”

“Well,” he murmurs, “since you asked so
sweetly . . .”

Lennox slides inside of me until he’s buried deep. He fits like
we were made for each other. His hands run against my back, holding
me down, as he leans back and slams into me again.

“Perfect. You’re fucking perfect.” Lennox thrusts
and retreats, and I feel every fucking inch of it, the friction
driving me mad. Fuzzy white bliss is already crowding around my
vision. It won’t take much to push me past the brink.

His thrusts intensify. I’m pulsing around him, squeezing him
like a fist. I can’t help it. The way he feels against me
piques me in a way Nash never could. Already I’m standing on
the edge of delirium, and it’ll only take a little more to send
me tumbling—

“I’m gonna come,” Lennox warns me. “Claim you
as mine.”

“Oh, god!”

His nails dig into my hips as I tumble over the brink. Heat radiates
from our joined bodies as my thighs, my legs, my feet, the tips of my
fingers tingle with a tidal wave of ecstasy. I can’t imagine a
moment more incredible than this—Lennox inside me, pleasure
engulfing me, drowning me, catching me in his undertow. And I know, I
fucking
know
, that I’ll never want anything else.

Lennox slumps against me, and presses a soft kiss to the nape of my
neck as we both gasp for air. “I love you, Elena,” he
whispers.

“Then stay with me.” I’m limp with pleasure beneath
him. Nothing could be more perfect or blissful than this moment. “No
matter what, stay with me.”

He winces as he stands. “I want you to be sure you know what
you’re asking. The McManuses aren’t nice people, El.”
Moonlight glides over the notches of his muscles as he tugs his
T-shirt back on. “And your uncle—I know how much he means
to you.”

“I know.” I draw a shaky breath. “Believe me, I
know. But every danger, every argument—it’ll all be worth
it, to share my life with you.” My voice trembles. “It’s
what I’ve always wanted.”

A slow smile spreads across his lips. “If you’re
sure . . .” He saunters back toward me and cups
my face in his hands.

“I’m
sure
.”

“Then I promise.” He kisses me just behind my ear,
sending a fresh happy, exhausted thrill down my spine. “No
matter what, I’m yours.”

Elena

Lennox sneaks me past his grandmother’s room to his bedroom on
the top level. He only has a full bed, shoved up against one wall
between dusty bookshelves and a bulletin board full of old
photographs, probably untouched since he went into prison. I
recognize more than a few shots of our old crew, complete with one of
Lennox, Nash, and Troy, arms slung around one another’s
shoulders. I snapped that photo.

Then, right next to a blank space that probably held a photograph of
Amber Cartwright, is a photo of me. Surly, teenaged Elena with a
baggy sweater and too-long bangs, glowering at the photographer with
a sly grin. Trying to pretend I wasn’t madly in love with the
photographer. That I wasn’t thrilled he would even think to
snap a shot of me.

I never could have imagined it would have ended up in the center of
his bulletin board.

Lennox digs an old T-shirt out of his drawers for me and I shrug into
it. “Looks way better on you than it ever did on me.” He
grins and tweaks my nose.

“Yeah, I’m loving the knee-length T-shirt look. Do I turn
you on like this?” I hold out the oversize shirt and shimmy for
him.

He laughs and wraps me in his arms. “Everything you do turns me
on.”

We fall into bed together and he keeps me firmly tucked in his
embrace. I’m overwhelmed with emotion, suddenly, at how safe
and contented I feel. Like this is what I’ve been searching for
all along, and it’s only obvious to me now that I’ve
found it. I hope Lennox feels the same way.

“We’ll have to be careful,” he says into the
darkness. “I’m sorry it has to be that way. But for now,
it’s the best course.”

I nod, even though he can’t see me. “Because of my
uncle?” I ask.

He sighs, breath warm against the back of my neck. “Because of
the McManuses.”

I wince and nestle deeper into his arms.

“I warned you, I’m not a good man right now. I can’t
get you mixed up in this.”

“It’s fine. We’ll make it work. I’ll get a
job somewhere else, we can start saving up, and then we can buy your
way out of the McManuses’ debt.”

“You’d do that? For me?” Lennox asks. “I—I
can’t ask you to—”

“Shh. You don’t have to. I want to.” I smile as
sleep tugs my eyelids down. “And don’t worry about Uncle
D or the rest of the crew. I think they’ll come around
eventually. Once we can prove to them that you’re stable, that
we can find our own two feet, then they have to accept us.”

Lennox strokes my arm with one finger. “I’ll make it
worth the effort. I swear. When you’re ready, I’ll talk
to Drazic for you myself.”

“No. I can do it.” Eventually. Even though it terrifies
me. For once, it feels good to be in control of my fate.

I turn to kiss Lennox once more, but he’s already asleep. I
sigh, exhausted, too. Eventually, we can always be like this.

*

“Eventually” being the key word, and the current source
of my frustration.

Things around Drazic Muscleworks are tense, and it’s not just
me and the secret that I carry. Nash is staying away, wisely, after
our permanent break-up. Otherwise I don’t think I could keep my
cool. But the rest of the guys are walking on eggshells around me.
They must have heard about my fight with Nash, and figure I have an
ax to grind with them, too. I’m not ready to have that fight
just yet, though I sense it’ll be coming soon enough. I don’t
know how long I can keep Lennox a secret.

I can’t see Lennox for several days after the race. He’s
busy doing “jobs,” the kind I know better than to ask for
details about, and I haven’t had much in the way of chances to
sneak away from the crew. Plus, I have my work cut out for me the day
the tow truck shows up with what’s left of Nash’s GTO.

I stare at the lump of once-great American muscle car up on the
lifters and feel a fresh churn of anger at Nash. I’d built this
car for him, after all. Made it out of love for him and the crew. And
he went and wrecked it in the worst way possible—intentionally,
out of desperation and some misguided sense of revenge. Part of me
wants to leave it as the worthless heap of parts that it is. But
another part of me knows it isn’t the car’s fault. The
car doesn’t deserve to be abandoned, after all.