Secret Love (Love Stings Series Book 2) (12 page)

“Okay, that sounds like fun. What should I wear?” Oh, I already know what I’m going to wear, but I want to hear what he wants.

He places his empty plate on the coffee table and turns toward me. Damien reaches out and winds a strand of my hair around his finger.

“Baby, you could wear a burlap sack and you’d still be beautiful. Just wear whatever you want.” He kisses my cheek. “I’ve got to get going. I’ve got shit to do, but I’ll be back to pick you up at seven.”

He disappears down the hall, returning a few minutes later fully dressed. I stand up and walk with him to the door. He grabs me, and his mouth crashes down on mine. His tongue enters my mouth, dueling with mine. He grabs me by my ass, pulling me toward him, and swallows my moan. All too soon, the kiss is over, and he’s walking out my door.

As I clean up my kitchen, I think about Damien. There is so much I don’t know about him. I know he’s keeping stuff from me, but why? I’m hoping tonight I get to learn more about him. I mean, I know we get along and we have lots of sexual chemistry, but I want more. The truth of the matter is that I am starting to have major feelings for someone I hardly know and someone who has been so hot and cold with me. What I do know is that he’s so easy to talk to—I’ve never told anyone about my insecurities when it comes to my parents.

Damien is just very easy to talk to. I hope tonight goes well because I want this to go somewhere, and I hope that he does too.

***

I slip the diamond studs that I got for my graduation from my grandparents into my ears. My hair hangs down right below my bra strap in big waves. My eyes are smoky, making the blue of my irises pop. I gave myself dewy cheeks and covered my lips with a red gloss. In the front, my dress looks modest. It’s a black scoop neck, long sleeve mini dress that hits a little higher than mid-thigh, and when I turn around the back is open all the way down to my lower back. Thin strips of fabric criss cross the back to hold it up and together.

My spiked heels have laces that wrap up my leg, ending mid-calf. I feel so sexy when I wear this dress. Unfortunately, this is only the second time I’ve worn it. I’m just throwing my powder and lip gloss into my clutch when there’s a knock at my door. I quickly spritz some perfume on before rushing toward the door.

When I open it, I freeze. Damien’s standing in front of me in a white dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his forearms, showing off his beautiful ink. His shirt is even tucked into a pair of dark blue jeans, and of course he’s wearing his black motorcycle boots.

I look up at him, and he’s staring at my legs.

“How do I look?” Stepping back, I give a little twirl, and when my back is to him, I hear him moan. “What? Don’t you like it?”

He wraps one of his arms around me and brushes my hair back from my neck. He buries his nose in my neck. “You look fucking beautiful, and you smell heavenly. Let’s go before we don’t leave at all.”

Grabbing my wrap for me, Damien drapes it across my shoulders and, with a hand to the small of my back, he leads me out to his Jeep. We’re both quiet as we drive toward Charleston, but it’s a comfortable silence as we listen to the music on the radio. We pull into the parking lot of a Mexican restaurant, Los Agaves. He parks and tells me to wait while he comes around to open the door for me. As we make our way inside, he wraps his arm around my shoulders and mine winds around his waist.

The hostess seats us at a booth toward the back. I sit across from Damien, and he grabs my hands from across the table. Our waiter brings our chips and salsa, I order a margarita, and Damien orders a Dos Equis.

“What did you do after I left today?” He lets go of my hand to grab a chip and dips it into the salsa. I do the same, popping the salty, hot goodness into my mouth.

“I studied for a bit and then took some cupcakes over to my grandparents’ house. What about you? I know you said you had ‘shit’ to do.”

Our waiter interrupts us. We both order beef enchiladas. I take a huge sip of my margarita. “Well?”

“I had to do some stuff for the club, and then I had to get my bike ready for storage.” He drinks some of his beer. “Tell me more about your family.”

“Hmm…okay. I have a younger brother, Luke, and he’s almost eighteen. He’s heading to LSU this summer for baseball. He’s really super talented. My mom has two brothers, twins, Dustin and Dylan. Uncle Dylan and Aunt Journey have four kids. Abby is the oldest, then Joey, Parker, and then Haddie. Uncle Dustin and Aunt Stacy have three girls: Violet, Lilah, and Daisy. My dad has an older brother, Jason, and he’s got four kids: Grace, Maisy, Tucker and JJ. They live in Washington.”

“Wow, that’s a big family.”

“Yeah, and they’re all crazy, but I love them like mad.”

Just then, the waiter places our plates in front of us, and we both order another drink.

Conversation is light as we both dig into our meals. I love that when I talk, Damien shows genuine interest in what I’m saying. We talk about our favorite music, and I think he’s surprised that I love bands like The Dirty Heads, Sublime with Rome, Stick Figure, and Slightly Stoopid. He, of course, is a huge fan of rock: Metallica, Disturbed, Volbeat and classics, like AC/DC and Black Sabbath.

“My dad is a die-hard Metallica fan. Always has been,” I tell him.

We finish our dinner and our drinks, and Damien pays the tab. I excuse myself and head to the bathroom. I touch up my lip gloss. In my clutch, I grab a mint and pop it into my mouth, chewing it while I fluff up my hair. I head back out and find Damien standing at the entryway to the bathrooms. He again drapes my wrap around my shoulders. Hand in hand, we head out to his Jeep. He opens the door for me, and I climb inside, buckling my seatbelt as he shuts the door.

“Tell me about your sister.” I turn in my seat, or I turn as much as I can with a seatbelt on.

“She’s younger than me. Her name’s Victoria, and she’s going to school to become a vet tech.”

Getting him to talk about personal stuff is like trying to pull teeth.

“Are you guys close? What about your parents? Did you grow up around here?” Ugh, I should’ve stopped after that first margarita. They tend to give me loose lips, and this will just scare him off.

He chuckles as we pull into the parking lot of the bar, Rascal’s. He turns toward me. “Yes, we’re close. Yes, I’m close to my parents, and I grew up in Charleston. Any other questions?” I shake my head. “Do you want to play some pool?” I nod, and he pulls me to him. His kiss is soft and tender and makes my toes curl. Again, I wait for Damien to come around and help me out.

Hand in hand, he leads me into Rascal’s. I’ve been to this place a few times. Damien heads toward the back, to the pool tables. For a Wednesday night, the place is actually hopping. A waitress comes and takes our drink order, and if she doesn’t stop eye fucking Damien I’m going to take off my heels and hit the bitch with them. After she disappears, he wraps his arms around me. The ass is chuckling.

“Oh, you think that’s funny? Do you think it’s funny that the guy by the dart boards is staring at my ass?”

It’s almost comical how fast Damien whips his head to the side and spots the guy I was referring to. He shoots him a death glare and stands to his full height, trying to look as intimidating as possible, which is easy for him to do.

The waitress brings our drinks while Damien racks the balls. I grab myself a pool cue and the chalk. Damien grabs his own stick and joins me.

“How about a little wager?” he asks. Little does he know that I’ve been playing pool with my dad since I was twelve.

“Okay, what are the stakes?” I’m curious what he wants to play for.

“Hmmm…how about whoever wins gets to call all of the shots in bed for one night? It means whoever wins gets to do whatever they want.” He says that last bit very slowly. I’d love to dominate this man just once. First, I’ve got to school this fool.

“Deal, but first can we play a warm-up game? I haven’t played in a while.” I’m hoping that my smile is innocent as I look up at him.

I let him break them, and he sinks a solid. Back and forth we take turns. I’ve scratched twice on purpose and have even let him “help” me a couple of times. Every time he sinks a solid, he looks at me with an arrogant smile. I keep sipping on my drink and biding my time until I can beat the arrogance right out of him.

He ends up winning, which I let happen. We order another round, and he hands me money for the jukebox. I move to walk away, but Damien stops me and pulls me to him. He wraps his arms around me. “I need a kiss first.” He dips me a little and kisses me hard on the lips. “Go play some tunes, baby.”

Damien slaps my ass as I walk away. I can’t wait to kick his ass at pool, and I smile all the way to the jukebox.

Chapter Fourteen

Damien

I should be racking the balls, but I can’t take my eyes off of Carrington. All night that fucking dress has tortured me. I’ve never seen a more perfect female form. Her legs are long and lean, if not leaner than when she first started working at The Beaver. She’s got a luscious ass on her. She must’ve gotten it from dancing. Some song about sirens comes on, and she dances her way back toward me.

Her lips tip up at the corners as she gets closer. Carrington’s eyes sparkle under the lights, and the blue stands out more. The closer she gets to me, the more something warms inside of me. She’s got me all twisted up inside. When she’s within grabbing distance, I grab her hand and pull her to me. I cup her face and stroke my thumb over the light dusting of freckles on the apple of her cheek.

My lips brush against hers with a light touch. I pull back and whisper, “Are you ready to get your ass kicked?”

“Bring it on.”

She sways her hips as she walks to the table, grabs her stick, and breaks. In that moment I know I’ve been played. In a matter of minutes, she’s sunk half of her balls.

By the time I’m even with her, she’s using distraction tactics—bending over the table but making sure her ass is sticking out, walking by me and rubbing against me. Back and forth, we battle it out, and I start using my own brand of distraction. Every time she’s up, I move her hair off of her neck, kiss her neck, and let my hand drift down to her ass.

It’s finally down to the eight ball and my shot. Carrington stands next to me, and I hear a clatter.

“Oops, I dropped my stick,” she says in a high-pitched, breathy voice. I can’t help but watch as she bends at the waist and grabs her stick off the floor. Of course it makes her butt stick out more, and all I want to do is grab it, damn her.

“I know what you’re doing, and it won’t work.” I line up my shot, but it misses the pocket by barely an inch.

“Oh no! You missed.” She walks around the table to take the most perfect shot I could’ve left her.

She sinks it with barely a tap. I burst out laughing when she starts busting a move while singing, “I won,” over and over. She’s got the attention of most of the bar, and she looks fucking adorable. Carrington finally dances her way right toward me. She wraps her arm around my neck and smiles up at me. “I’m seeing you tied to your bed while I torture, tease, and torment you. Has anyone ever tickled your prostate before?”

Fuck no, but why does it turn me on to think of her doing that to me? My dick is so hard right now, and if we weren’t in public, I’d throw her down on this pool table and fuck her…hard.

“Jesus Christ, Carrington. What the hell is this?”

I freeze and feel Carrington do the same. Her father and a dark-haired gentleman are standing at the other end of the pool table, looking at her with narrowed eyes.

“Hey, Dad,” she says slowly. Her back is to my front, and I can feel a slight tremble. “Hey, Uncle Dylan. What are you guys doing here?”

Her dad walks toward us, his lips turned down into a frown. “Don’t you think it’s a little inappropriate to dress like that in public? Jesus, can’t you just once not act like this?” I hear her swift intake of breath and wrap my arms around her waist. He looks up at me. “Who’s this?”

“Um, this is Damien. Damien, my dad, Luke Carter.” I step around Carrington and reach out my hand. He reluctantly reaches out and shakes my hand. She goes to her uncle, and he wraps his arms around her. Every thing is so awkward right now, but I suppose if I had a daughter I’d react the same way, but probably worse.

Her dad pulls her into a hug, and whatever he whispers in her ear makes her go ramrod straight. “You’re right, I’m sorry,” she says.

She stands by me. “I’d like to go home now.”

I wrap an arm around her waist and guide her outside after she says bye to her dad and uncle and help her into my Jeep. She’s quiet, and I can feel the distance between us. I grab her hand, lacing our fingers.

“Baby, tell me what he said that upset you.”

She stares out the window and at first won’t say anything.

“He said I should watch how I dress and act in public because it may give someone the wrong idea.”

I bite down on my tongue to keep myself from saying the shit I want to about her dad. What kind of man says something like that to his daughter? “He’s wrong. You know that, right? You’re sexy, but more than that, you’re confident. There is not one goddamn thing wrong with being confident enough in yourself to show off your body.”

She looks at me with a look of surprise on her face. “Um, uh, thank you for saying that. We’ve always butted heads when it comes to how I dress. He obviously hates it. If he had his way, I’d be dressed like a nun. It’s frustrating. He makes me feel like a slut.” She hangs her head as if she’s ashamed.

We get back to her apartment, and I help her out of my Jeep and walk with her up to her door. I want to stay, I want to hold her and make that look disappear from her face, but she might need the space.

“Do you want me to stay? We don’t have to do anything. I just want to be able to hold you.”

“I’d like that.” She unlocks her apartment, and I follow her inside, locking the door behind me. I watch her set her clutch on her dining room table before heading toward her bedroom. “Help yourself to a beer,” she tells me before disappearing into her bedroom.

I grab a beer out of her refrigerator and carry it into the living room. Carrington’s door opens a few minutes later, but she hurries across the hall to the bathroom. When she finally rejoins me a few minutes later, her hair is up in a bun and her face is sparkling clean. Instead of sitting next to me, she climbs right into my lap and buries her face in my neck. My arms automatically wind around her. Neither of us says anything. I just take a minute to appreciate and enjoy the feel of her in my arms.

Carrington yawns loudly against my neck. “Come on, baby. Let’s get you to bed.”

I stand up with her in my arms and carry her back to her bedroom. She lets me lay her down and then watches as I strip out of my clothes. I crawl in next to her, grab her, and twist her around until she’s draped over half of my body with her head on my shoulder.

“I’m sorry I ruined the rest of our night,” she says against my skin.

“You didn’t ruin anything. Your dad was wrong, you know. I think he stills sees you as his little girl. If I have a daughter someday and she looked like you, I’d probably be the same, if not worse. Better yet, I’d probably lock her away until she was forty.” She snuggles in closer to me.

“Thank you for saying that. I’m actually used to it. He hates the way I dress and act. He always has. I’m sure he wishes I were a boy or that they wouldn’t have lost my sister, Rose. She probably would’ve been perfect.”

With that, she rolls over and her soft snores fill the room. I know I’m a guy and all, but she kind of just broke my heart.

I move so my front is against her back, wrap one arm around her, and tuck my other arm under my pillow. It doesn’t take long before I feel sleep pull me under.

***

A week has gone by since our date, and Carrington’s been acting like everything is okay, but I know different. I can see it in her eyes at times, but she just brushes it off. We’ve spent just about every day together, and I’ve learned two things. One, I’ve started falling for her. The second is I’ve fallen for her…hard.

I can’t wait for her to take her test, which is in a week. Every time I have to watch her dance, I feel myself get homicidal. It sucks to see the look of lust on all of these different men’s faces. Some of the other dancers and working girls have started treating her worse than before. I’m sure it has to do with Cherry and her big fucking mouth, and now I think Bridgette is starting to get suspicious of us, but so far she hasn’t said anything.

I don’t think they would care, but if what I’m doing gets out, they could go after Carrington, and that’s the last thing I want. That’s why I should’ve stayed away from her, but I can’t anymore. Two nights ago, we went to the movies and since it was a Tuesday night, we were the only ones in the theater. Thirty minutes into the movie, I had Carrington in my lap and my tongue in her mouth.

We ended up dry humping like a couple of teenagers, but damn if it wasn’t fun. I took her back to my place afterward and fucked her hard against my bedroom wall. The girl is a wildcat, but she attacks sex the way she attacks everything, with passion and vigor.

I pull into the parking lot of a little hole-in-the-wall bar outside of Savannah to meet my handler. We only meet face-to-face monthly. I give him the latest information I’ve got. My handler’s name is Toby. We’ve both been with the DEA for a couple of years. He got injured pretty badly in his last field assignment, so now he works a desk and has been my handler since I went undercover.

Inside, the place is perfect for a meet: dark and loud enough that we can’t be listened to. I spot Toby in the corner and make my way toward him. I’ve always been a big guy, but next to him, I feel small. Toby has blond hair and blue eyes, and he’s around six foot six and at least two hundred forty pounds of solid muscle. He stands up and gives me a back slapping hug that I return.

I sit down across from him and wave the waitress over. We order a couple of beers, and once she brings them we dismiss her so we can talk.

“So, how’s it going?” Toby asks.

We both take a drink and I set my bottle on the table. “I’m making some progress. The deliveries and pickups have gone well, but I know it’s all a test. These are low-level dealers. So far, it’s just Rafe and Tucker who speak to their supplier. The prostitution is what is worrying me. The girls not involved are getting uncomfortable with it, but so far they’re not getting pressured to turn tricks. Two of the dancers—Cherry, real name Michelle Lang, and Diamond, real name Rochelle Marie, are both sleeping with customers for money. They’ve kept a tight lip on the whores they’ve brought in. I haven’t seen money exchange hands, but I will. Here is the info on the two dancers.”

Toby takes the piece of paper from me. “We’ll watch them and see if we can pick them up outside of the club. We don’t want the brothers getting suspicious. Anything else you want me to take back to the office?”

“No, I’m hoping to have more information for you soon. They have cameras everywhere, so taking pictures is impossible. Rafe and Tucker have changed their schedule a bit, so I’m trying to figure out how to get in there to see the security feed. If I can just get cash exchanging hands on video, that would be enough to make them squirm, mess up maybe.”

We finish our beers and plan to be back here in a month unless something big happens before that.

On my way home, I decide to stop by my parents’ house. Even though my mom and I talk on the phone, I think she likes seeing my face just to know I’m still alive. I was twelve when my dad was shot in the line of duty. It had been so hard, even at that age, watching my mom break down. She’s always been strong and supportive of our career choices, but that was the one time I saw her lose it. Dad had been called to a robbery in progress and the perp open fired on him. It caught him by surprise, and he took one to the shoulder. The perp was just a kid, sixteen years old and desperate for money to feed his family.

As upset and sad as Mom was when it happened, she supported Dad’s decision to help the kid get a reduced sentence. I don’t know whatever happened to him, but I know he didn’t serve all of his jail time.

***

The club is hopping tonight, and there’s a weird vibe in the air. I’m not sure what it is, but I don’t like it. No one else seems to notice. I ask the other bouncers to keep an eye on the crowd and the dancers, and I always make sure two guys are back by the private rooms. I’m not taking any chances. Leaning against the bar, I scan the crowd, giving Rafe a chin lift as he walks by.

Bridgette meets Rafe in the mouth of the hallway, and they disappear into her office. They don’t let anyone in their offices alone. Otherwise I would’ve planted a bug in her office. I’ve planted a bug in Rafe’s office, but I never get anything that I haven’t already heard or been told.

It makes me wonder if they’re becoming suspicious of everyone and that’s why they’re meeting in Bridgette’s office. Now I just need to get a bug in there too.

I turn back toward the floor and watch the guys all watch the dancer, Fawn, a beautiful African American woman, twirl around the pole. She’s a great dancer and keeps to herself. I’ve seen Carrington and Taylor talk to her before, and she’s always friendly, but not overly so.

Out of the corner of my eye, I spot my girl. She’s walking right toward me. We usually try to avoid any interaction because we don’t want anyone becoming suspicious. As she gets closer, I cross my arms over my chest and try to school my features and look bored. She stands next to me, close enough that her arm is brushing mine. The flowery scent she wears wraps around me. I’m addicted to that smell, especially when my face is buried in her neck.

“Hey,” she says, and it’s almost too quiet to hear.