Rebelonging (Unbelonging, Book 2) (20 page)

"Hey," I said. "I want to ask you something,
and I hope you'll be honest with me."

His eyes opened, and he met my gaze with an
intensity that was almost too painful to bear. Slowly, he
nodded.

I leaned very close. "By any chance," I
whispered, "are you Lawton Rastor?"

His face froze. The moment seemed to go on
forever, and then, his lips twitched. He gave me that crooked smile
of his, the one that made my breath hitch and my heart melt. "Me?"
he said. "Nah.
I'm
the guy with Chloe Malinski."

"Oh her?" I said in a disappointed tone. "But
she's just a nobody."

"Baby," he said, "she's somebody, alright."
Slowly, he moved his lips closer to mine. "Matter of fact, she's
everything to this guy I know."

"Oh yeah?"

"Oh yeah."

He closed the distance between us, crushing
his lips onto mine in a kiss that seemed born of half relief, half
desperation.

I raised my hands and brought them to his
head, feeling the tousled strands of his hair dance around my
fingers as our lips, our tongues, and our breaths combined. The
center console dug into my side, but I barely noticed.

My voice was breathless as I said, "I want
you."

His lips drifted lower, leaving a trail of
soft kisses down my jawline and toward my shoulder. "Ready to go
home?" he said.

Home. It was a funny word. "I feel like I'm
home right now," I said. I glanced toward the rear of the car.
"Hey, look a back seat."

I felt his muffled laugh against my shoulder.
"No way."

"Aw c'mon," I said. "I know you want to."

I reached out toward his leg. I trailed my
hand across his jeans, starting at the knee and working my way up,
slowly and surely. When my hand hit a definite bulge, the muffled
laugh turned into a muffled groan.

"Baby, you're killin' me over here."

"Then you should just give in," I teased.
"It'll be so much simpler."

He pulled his head back and gazed into my
eyes. "Not gonna happen. Not here. As tempting as you are."

"Why not?" I said.

"A place like this," he said, looking around
the dim parking lot, "bad things can happen. And if anything bad
happened to you—" he shook his head "—I'd never forgive
myself."

"With you here?" I said. "I'm not
worried."

Funny, I meant it too. Wrapped in his arms,
and feeling him close to me, I felt like nothing bad could ever
happen, not to me, and not to him.

"Here's the thing," he said. "Yeah, we could
climb into that back seat, but I'd have to keep an eye out."

I felt a hand on
my
knee, mirroring my
own motions from just a moment earlier. His hand drifted higher up
my thigh, and higher still, going so slow I felt like I'd combust
right then and there.

When his hand finally reached the
intersection of my thighs, my eyes drifted shut, and my lips
parted. The sound that escaped might've been a sigh, and it
might've been a moan.

"Or," he said, rubbing his thumb in a slow,
circular motion across that perfect spot, "I could take you home,
where the only thing I have to think about is you."

"Home," I said. "Now."

By the time we reached Lawton's estate, I was
burning for him, feeling the heat of that brief touch simmer and
grow with every turn and every mile. When we finally roared through
his gate and skidded to a stop in the turnaround, he cut the engine
and jumped out of his car.

He strode around to the passenger's side,
flung open my door, and threw me over his shoulder, barbarian
style.

I couldn't help it. I squealed and giggled
all the way up the front walkway. He pushed through the front door
and slammed it shut with a haphazard kick.

Without breaking a sweat, he headed up the
wide stairway with me, still laughing, slung over his shoulder. I
lost one shoe halfway up and the other when we hit the top
step.

He strode down the long hall, heading
straight to his bedroom. When he reached it, he hoisted me up and
flung me onto his bed, where I landed with a fit of laughter that
made my insides ache.

He stood at the foot of the bed, looking down
on me with a smile so wicked, and a body to match, that my
breathless laughter quieted to mere breathlessness.

He was so damn beautiful. And he loved me.
And I loved him. I was living a dream, and I never wanted to wake
up.

He leaned over the bed, and unbuttoned my
jeans with one hand, and then went for the zipper. He straightened
up, and took a pant leg in each hand, tugging slowly and surely
until I wore only my shirt and underpants.

When he leaned down to tug at my panties, I
said, "No fair. You're still dressed."

"Who said anything about fair?" he said,
giving my panties a slow tug downward. "Baby, you are so
beautiful," he said. "It hurts just to look at you."

"So are you," I said, motioning him toward
the bed. "But you're too far away."

With a small chuckle, he grabbed my ankles
and pulled me toward him, until my pelvis rested at the edge of the
bed. Slowly, he ran a hand up my thigh. "Better?" he said.

I crooked my finger, motioning him to come
closer. When he did, I gripped the hem of his shirt and tugged
upward until he gave in, lifting his arms, and letting me tug it,
hard, over his head and toss it onto the floor.

Leaning over me with his bare chest, with all
those muscles, ridges, and tattoos, I could almost envision him as
a conquering warrior, come to claim his prize. I felt my knees
tremble and my breath catch. He knelt at the foot of the bed and
lowered his head, kissing the inside of my thigh just above the
knee.

That small kiss ignited a flame, sending a
quiver of heat straight to my core. I felt his tongue on my skin
and his hands on my thighs, caressing the skin with slow, steady
strokes. His mouth moved higher with every kiss until I felt his
lips brush my opening and his tongue giving me a long, sweet
stroke.

I was panting now, squirming against him and
gripping the bed coverings with both fists.

"I love the way you taste," he said. "And
feel."

I felt a finger slip inside me, and I ground
my hips upward, wanting more. So much more. Soon, a second finger
joined the first, and he took my hot, swollen clit into his mouth.
He sucked, lightly at first, and then harder, making me moan and
sigh in time with the motions of his mouth and fingers.

I lifted my torso, resting my weight on my
elbows, to look down at him. His eyes lifted, meeting mine, and
something in my heart gave way. Because what I saw there, it wasn't
just a gorgeous guy who knew exactly what he was doing.

It was a guy who made me feel whole in ways
I'd never imagined.

And damn, I loved watching him. When his eyes
dipped down again, I let my gaze soak up the rest of him, those
powerful shoulders, those strong arms, the neck I loved to caress
when we kissed on the couch.

When my head drifted backward, my body
followed. Soon, my eyes drifted shut too.

The movement of his fingers and the motions
of his tongue were sending me closer and closer to that sweet
abyss. Then I fell over with a series of shudders and sounds that I
wouldn't want the neighbors to hear.

When he lifted his head, I couldn't stop
quivering as he stood, and finally unzipped his jeans. "I love you
so damn much, Chloe," he said. "I never wanna let you go."

"Then don't," I said, "because I love you
too."

I lifted my head, and made a motion to get
up. I wanted to taste him too, to have him in the same way he had
me.

"No," he said. "Stay right there. I want you
just like this. You're so damn beautiful."

When his jeans reached the floor, and his
navy briefs followed, I felt a shudder of anticipation. His body
was a work of art, and not just the parts that had graced all those
magazine covers.

Still standing, he pressed the tip of his
massive erection to my opening, and then with one slow steady
movement, he surged forward. My slickness welcomed him, closing
around him as our two bodies became one.

Through heavy-lidded eyes, I watched him. The
muscles of his abs shifted and moved in time with his hips, and I
felt my own stomach contract, at first a little, and then a lot.
His body was magnificent, and he knew how to use it.

Every thrust, sometimes slow, sometimes fast,
was reaching places I almost didn't know existed, and not just with
my body. It had never been like this. Not with anyone. Not ever. I
ground against him, feeling him move inside me and relishing every
motion.

Almost before I realized it, I was clutching
the bedding yet again, moving my own hips faster in time with his,
faster and faster, until with a symphony of shudders and moans, we
reached that glorious peak and floated back to Earth.

Except it didn't feel like Earth. It felt
like Heaven. And when he settled down next to me a moment later, it
felt like home.

It felt like I belonged.

When I woke the next day in the Parkers'
guest room, reality hit like a cold fish to the face. Last night
had been a dream, a wonderful dream. But today, I had to face
reality.

At five o'clock in the morning, Lawton had
left for the airport. He'd urged me to stay, to sleep in his bed,
to stay at his house. The invitation included both me and Chucky,
who we'd retrieved from the Parkers' later that night.

But as I watched Lawton get dressed, I knew
that delaying my departure wouldn't really help. It would only
postpone the inevitable. So when he left for the airport, I asked
him to drop me and Chucky off on the way with the anticipation of
his return in just a couple of days.

As we said goodbye in the Parkers' driveway,
I soaked up that final feverish embrace like my sanity depended on
it. In a way it did, because if things continued to go downhill as
far as house-sitting was concerned, I might not be his neighbor
very much longer.

If I didn't hear back from the Parkers within
the next day or two, I'd have some tough choices to make. Would I
need to check with their bank? Leave their house? Call the
police?

I sure as hell hoped not. It was exactly the
kind of thing I tried to avoid, especially if I ever wanted to work
again as a house sitter.

My day improved considerably when I arrived
at work that evening and learned that Brittney had called in sick.
Keith gave me the news personally, not looking too happy about
it.

"Is it the flu?" I asked.

"Wouldn't you like to know?" he said.

"Not particularly," I said. "And just for the
record, she really
is
terrible at this. Like I already told
you, she insulted every single customer."

"And like I already told
you
," he
said, "maybe she wasn't adequately trained."

"Hey, I tried," I said. "She never listens.
You know what I think? She's trying to sabotage me."

"Chloe," he said, "not everyone is out to get
you."

"I'm just saying, it's a problem."

"Wanna know what the real problem is around
here?"

"What?"

"Your boyfriends."

I stared at him. "What do you mean?"

"Well, first, you've got one of them beating
the crap out of his own car in our parking lot, and then you've got
this other one coming in every day asking for you. What do you
think? This is some kind of dating service?"

"I don't even know who you're talking about,"
I said.

"Sure you don't."

"I don't," I said. "Whoever he is, he's not
my boyfriend."

"Funny, that's not what he said."

I felt my eyebrows furrow. "What'd he look
like?"

"Heavyset guy, longish hair, said his name
was Chester."

"Shaggy?" I said. "He's not my boyfriend.
He's not even my friend."

Keith crossed his arms. "Oh yeah? Well from
what I heard, you were all over him the other night in our parking
lot."

"I was not!"

"Oh really? Well Jordon said he saw you on
the guy's shoulders, making a regular spectacle of yourself. Got
anything to say about that?"

"I was taking video," I said. "And it wasn't
even my idea."

"Just so you know," Keith said, "if he comes
in here again, I'm writing you up."

"You can't write me up," I said. "It's not my
fault if he comes in here."

Keith pointed to his name tag and cleared his
throat. "What does this say?"

I gave him a look. "You don't know your own
name?"

"Very funny," Keith said. "Go on, read what
it says
below
my name."

I rolled my eyes. "Manager."

"Exactly. I'm the manager, and if I say
you're getting written up, you're gonna get written up. End of
story."

"Okay, fine write me up. Whatever. Are we
done here?"

He pointed his thumb at his name tag. "We're
done when
I
say we're done."

I looked at him expectantly.

He glanced at the clock, and then toward the
dining area. "Alright, we're done. Now get out there, and remember
what I said."

About Brittney? About Shaggy? About his name
tag? Honestly, I had no idea what the guy was referring to. But I
was used to that. I headed out toward the waitress station, just
glad for the chance to make up for lost ground.

Without Brittney, I had a decent chance of
making some money tonight, and I wasn't going to let the
opportunity slide just because Keith was up to his old tricks.

By midnight, I'd actually made some progress
when I heard someone at the bar call my name. I turned, and there
he was, Shaggy, his cell phone in one hand and a beer in the
other.

I stalked over. "What do you want?" I
said.

He frowned. "Why do you gotta be so mean
about it? Or, uh, is this part of your waitressing act?"