OGs: Deep Down (10 page)

“Wow, really? That’s supercool. I want also to learn. I want to build a tree house and—”

Feeling totally dismissed and out of the loop, Kyra stood there for a second, listening to her daughter talking to Mike, before going back in. With shame, tenderness, hurt, pride all churning in her gut, she decided to go back to the dirty dishes in the kitchen. Bad thing was, from the window she could see Mike and Sam. They went to his truck and came back with a bunch of wooden planks, Sam running in circles around Mike, laughing and gesturing. Seeing her daughter interact with Mike was more than she could take, but glutton for punishment that she was, she couldn’t look away.

He tightened a couple of steps and didn’t allow Sam jump on them until he’d determined that they could stand his weight. Then he let his tester go in for the kill

Mike was great with kids. Always had been. Mike’s sister Lisa, one year younger than him, had gotten pregnant at seventeen, so by age nineteen Mike had had a baby at home, where Lisa lived for several years before marrying her baby’s daddy, also a teenager, and moving in with him. Even then, Mike had been around a lot, babysitting Ashley and taking her with him and Kyra.

While other guys had played at being tough and claimed they didn’t want to have a family of his own, Mike had made it clear he did. Yet he hadn’t. He was now thirty-two and didn’t have a wife or kids. He’d wanted to give her babies, but she’d refused. And ended up pregnant by Drake the scumbag. Well, at least Drake had never tried to cut her wings. It was the other way around. The more she worked, the more he could bask in her success and the less he had to help, not that he’d ever helped that much. On the downside, though, she’d gotten zero support, and her daughter had a rotten dad. All in all she’d fucked up well and good.

Smothering those thoughts, Kyra threw a last glance to the porch, where now Mike and Sam were replacing a step, and she forced herself to move away from the window.

After a whole week of working every afternoon in the gym and several mornings in the swimming pool, she hadn’t had time to tidy up. The place was old and falling apart; there was nothing she could do about that, but hell if she was going to keep it dirty.

No matter how sloppy she and Sam had been, Cynthia’s house was small, and in no time she was done. She stood in the living room, and ignoring the old appliances, the mismatched furniture, the faded wallpaper, and the worn-down floors, she headed for the biggest of the IKEA boxes. Time to get a dresser and some much-needed drawer space.

She dragged the box to her room.

After a while her daughter came in running. “Mom, Greta is here. We’re going to the park, okay?”

“Oh, right.” She walked to the front door and smiled at their neighbor. Mike wasn’t on the steps anymore, but she could hear hammering, and his truck was in the driveway. As she glanced around, she realized he was securing the railing on the far end.

She waved good-bye to Sam and Greta and went back to the dresser that so far was looking nothing like a dresser. At the last second and before sitting down, she decided to go to the kitchen.

Now that Sam wasn’t around and Mike didn’t need to be civilized or polite to her, he probably wouldn’t want to see her, but it was hot. Mike loved homemade lemonade, so she filled a tall glass and went to the porch. Coward that she was, she placed the tray with the glass and some cookies on the table near the swing and left without saying a word.

Mike didn’t even acknowledge her presence.

She wasn’t sure how much time had passed when Mike’s voice startled her. She looked up and saw him leaning on the doorjamb, sweaty and sexy, his tattooed bulging arms crossed over his chest.

“What are you doing?” he asked, motioning to the pieces in front of her.

She sighed, frustrated beyond words. “Putting up a dresser, but I’m obviously missing the Nordic gene that allows one to understand IKEA’s instructions.”

For the first time she saw Mike smiling at her, although faintly. “Well, you know we’re Irish. Not exactly Nordics, but I think we can make do.” He sat down near her and reached for the instructions. After a couple of times of looking at the mangled papers and then back at her dresser, he said, “Okay, I see now where you went wrong.”

“Where? Here right?” she asked, pointing at the sketch on page three.

He shook his head, his lips quirking up, that lazy, drawn-out, sexy smile of his finally appearing. “Nope. Right off the bat on the first page, Blondie. Let’s start over.”

First page? No wonder her dresser was looking more like a UFO than a dresser.

They worked in silence, unscrewing the pieces, Kyra horribly aware they were in her bedroom, Mike’s broad shoulders and long legs eating up the space. His unique scent all over.

She followed his instructions as they put up the body of the dresser. Then they tackled the drawers, which turned out to be damn tricky. To her, of course. By the time Kyra had one ready, Mike had finished the other five and was putting them in their places.

“My first IKEA dresser,” she said, sitting on the bed and admiring the finished product. “That is, the first one I put together and didn’t end up with extra pieces. I would have taken several weeks to get it done. Thank you.”

“That’s nothing. I have tons of experience. Lisa loves IKEA, and Hank is a great guy, but he doesn’t know how to change a lightbulb, so every time I visit, she has some project waiting for me.”

“How’s Lisa?” she asked. All his family was still in Alden, but she hadn’t seen Lisa.

“Moved to Arizona with Hank when he got transferred down there. They have three kids now.”

“So she’s still with her high school sweetheart.”

“Yep. Going strong. Beating the odds. Last time I was down there, they were still acting like teenagers, kissing and making out in every corner. Ashley is totally grossed out.”

Kyra laughed. “How’s Ashley? Last time I saw her, she was what, six?”

“She’s great. Gorgeous like her mother. She’s thirteen now and driving Hank crazy with all the guys swarming around her. He said she isn’t allowed to date until she turns twenty-one, but good luck with that,” he added with a snort. “The kid can do her math. Try explaining to Ashley how come her mom was pregnant at seventeen and she isn’t allowed to date until she’s twenty-one.”

“True.”

They both fell silent.

He was now standing in the middle of her tiny bedroom, looking at her with those intense eyes of his, and she felt naked in front of him.

She jumped from the bed. “Do you want some more lemonade?”

She had to get him out of there; this whole scene was going to be playing a major role in her dreams tonight. No need to make it worse.

He nodded and followed her to the kitchen.

She washed her hands and stared as Mike washed his and then splashed water on his face. Man, he was so damn handsome. Especially a bit sweaty from the heat and the manual work.

She hurried to get the lemonade.

Before she did something she’d regret.

“Thank you for being so nice with Sam. I know she’s been bugging you at the gym.” Actually, Mike and Rebecca were all Sam spoke of nowadays. And the rest of that family. Probably because Kyra hadn’t been able to provide her with one. It had always been just the two of them.

“She doesn’t bug me,” Mike answered curtly.

She had the feeling
She isn’t the one bugging me
was what he’d meant.

She poured the lemonade into two glasses and offered one to him, all without a word. Then she cleared her throat.

“So Sinful is the manager of Bottoms Up.”

He nodded.

“You let me believe…”

Mike narrowed his eyes on her. “I told you Sinful was only business. I’m not responsible if you think I’m buying lap dances in my spare time.”

“Yeah, well, sorry.”

They drank in uncomfortable silence. As a matter of fact, her kitchen was never this quiet, she realized. She zeroed in on the sink and noticed, surprised, the faucet wasn’t leaking.

“How—” She pointed at it and looked suspiciously at Mike, who shrugged.

“Sam said the kitchen faucet leaked. I took care of it. Also fixed a couple of windows in the living room that didn’t close properly.”

“Thank you,” she whispered. “But—”

“But nothing,” he retorted. “That lock on your door is shit. I don’t have what I need here to replace it, but I’ll get to it tomorrow. In the meantime, do not leave the key under the welcome mat. Although in all honesty, I think we should forget the lock and replace the whole door with something that will not crumble when someone blows at it.”

She felt totally slapped, as if she were a kid who didn’t know better. Fuck that. Mike was no one to patronize her.

“Don’t you have anything better to do on a Sunday? Like that curvy redhead from the Shack? Or have you moved on already?”

He tensed, and she regretted her words right away. After all, he hadn’t said anything about the house she hadn’t thought herself a million times. “Sorry. None of my business.”

His tone was hard. “That’s right. None of your fucking business. Besides, you didn’t want what I was offering. What does it matter to you if she got what you didn’t want?”

Maybe I did want it
, her mind blurted.
Maybe I still do.

She kept her mouth shut, thank God, but apparently Mike heard her loud and clear, because his eyes flashed and he took a step toward her. With the counter behind her, she really didn’t have anywhere to go.

She sucked in air as he lifted her onto the counter and stepped between her legs, bracing his hands on either side of her.

“Or does it matter?”

Kyra held his gaze defiantly. She wasn’t sure how she managed that, but she did.

“Didn’t fuck her,” Mike said finally, so close their noses were almost touching.

She should shut up. This was going to backfire, but she pushed forward and, not breaking eye contact, said, “You left with her.”

“Didn’t fuck her,” he repeated, looking angry. Not sure at what. “I walked her to a cab, then went back home alone.”

Kyra didn’t know what to say to that, so she stayed quiet. She shouldn’t feel relieved, but she was.

“Haven’t fucked anyone in a while,” Mike continued. “Since before you came to town.”

“I didn’t ask for explanations.”

“I wouldn’t give them to you if you did,” he replied in a forbidding tone, his gaze lowering to her mouth and staying there.

She knew she shouldn’t move, but refraining was beyond her. Touching him was all she’d been able to think of since their dance. Doing her damnedest to steady her trembling hand, she reached for his stark face, caressing his stubble and brushing her thumb over his lips in the same manner he’d done to her in the Shack.

He didn’t move but his broad shoulders tightened. The vein on his temple pulsed.

“Mike, what I said in the Shack, about you not being good—”

He cut her off. “Save it. I don’t want to hear it. Don’t want to talk.”

Fine. Heaven forbid she’d start giving explanations he didn’t care about.

They stayed like that for a long while, no one talking, the only sounds around those of her breathing. Her eyes strayed to his lips, just an inch from hers. God, she needed him, his mouth on hers. But he didn’t kiss her. He nuzzled her cheek, her jaw, her throat, flicking his tongue here and there. Her body recognized him, his smell and his touch, and immediately reacted. When she encircled his neck and tried to kiss him, he fisted her hair and pulled her back.

“My way,” he gritted out, looking straight into her eyes. In spite of him denying her, a shudder of pleasure ran through her body as she felt the bite of his grip on her scalp. “If you want this, it’s going to be my way. Lean back. Hands on the counter.”

It went against all her instincts, but she obeyed, placing her hands on the counter. He skimmed kisses down her chest over her top and then graced her puckered nipple with his teeth, and she jerked, while with his other hand on her lower back, he yanked her core against his groin. His extremely stiff groin.

Mike was a great kisser, the right amount of tenderness and aggression, taking complete control and leaving fiery tingles in his wake.

She so wanted to kiss him, touch him, but in this position and with him still fisting her hair, she couldn’t do anything but accept all he had to give.

He moved to her other breast, rubbing his hard-on against her while teasing her nipple.

“Mike—”

He licked and nibbled his way up to her jaw, her skin seared by his touch. When she tried to kiss him again, he turned away. He was breathing harsh. She could feel his need for her, his anger too, rolling out of him in strong waves. Feeding each other.

“I said my way,” he growled and trapped her lower lip with his teeth and pulled a bit, his eyes flashing with lust. A jolt of pure electricity roared through her, her insides spasming, heat rushing down to her already aching core.

This was not the lover she’d known. This was not the same Mike who’d held off until she was eighteen before taking her virginity, regardless of how hard and dirtily she’d tried to force his hand that last year. This wasn’t the same Mike who had seen to her with his hands and mouth three times to make sure she was ready to take him with a minimum amount of pain that first time, while he came all over the sheets from the need.

This wasn’t the same lover who’d kissed her nonstop while he was inside her, reassuring her, telling her how much he loved her. How beautiful she was. How much he wanted her.

This wasn’t the same lover who’d cleaned her afterward and cuddled her until she fell asleep.

This man was much harder. Pulling at her head, restricting her movements, and not letting her kiss him. She’d gotten a glimpse in the Shack of the man she once knew, in the way he kissed her, but that door had been slammed shut in her face. And it hurt, because she now understood how much she needed to feel that connection: his lips against her, his tongue in her mouth.

In spite of this Mike not being the attentive lover she’d known, she couldn’t deny him. Never mind how rude and unbending he was, she would take it all, because she still wanted him.