Flame (Fire on the Mountain #2) (20 page)

Fuck you, Hulk.

Dakota, don’t fucking test me.

Realizing that no one is saying anything out loud as Lance watches Levi and me throw daggers back and forth, I break the silence. “Yeah, I’m totally okay out here. I was just telling Foss about the services I offer.” Reaching over to cup Lance’s dick outside his pants, I paint on a demure smile and wink at Levi. “He’s interested in the special I’ve got going on dick massages.”

A loud noise erupts from Levi’s chest that sounds something like a mix of a bear growl and the wailing of a wolf.
Holy fucking shit!
With superhero speed and strength, he charges us and picks Lance up off the ground by the neck, holding him backward hanging over the pointy fence.

“I told you to stay the fuck away from her! I fucking warned you what would happen if you got near her! Did you think I was lying, you stupid fucking prick?” Levi is close to foaming at the mouth as he screams in Lance’s beet-red face.

“That’s enough, Levi. Let him go.” I tug on his arm, urging him to stop. It’s time I just pack my bags and go home. There’s no need for any of this ridiculousness.

He tightens his grip, eliciting a squawk of pain from Lance. “No! He fucking knew what would happen if he got near you, and he did it anyway. Fucker needs to be taught a lesson.”

“It doesn’t matter! Just stop! Let him go!” Curling my fingers into his biceps, I dig my nails into the smooth flesh and yank harder. “Think about everything you’ll lose if you seriously hurt him. You’ll be suspended or kicked off the tour at least; not to mention, he can press charges. This is stupid. You’re fighting over me—someone you won’t give a second thought to next week! It’s not worth it!
I’m
not worth it!”

Abruptly pulling Lance back over into the enclosed area, he slings him toward the door, finally releasing the death grip on his throat. “Get the fuck out of here. You tell no one about what happened out here, or I’ll make sure your sweet fiancée back home learns all about Stacy and her
little
situation,” he threatens.

Lance gets to his feet, brushing himself off and straightening his clothes, the deep scowl never leaving his face. “You’re a fucking cocksucker, Levi. I’ll be cheering the day you break your neck on the track.” His eyes flit over to me. “Don’t believe a word he says, baby doll. You can come find me about that dick massage later.”

He disappears back inside without another word, leaving only the two of us on the patio. I can’t decide if I want to beat the shit out of him or take off running to cry as I pack. Or maybe I should beat the shit out of him and then take off running.

“Sunshine,” he rasps, striding toward me.

My arms jut straight out from my sides to stop him. I don’t want him anywhere near me. “No!” I roar. “And my fucking name is Dakota!”

“Dakota, please.” His voice softens substantially as he stops short and holds his hands up in surrender, not wanting to push me. “Please listen to me. Give me a chance to explain.”

“Explain?! Explain what? That you have a girlfriend you failed to tell me about before asking me to live with you for two weeks? The only explanation for that is that you’re a fucking piece of shit. So, there. I did it for you. Now we can go our separate ways.”

Shuffling to the side, I make a move to pass him, but he reacts too quickly and cuts me off. “Dakota, stop. Mercedes is not my girlfriend. She’s my—”

“Yeah, I remember how you introduced her,” I interject with flared nostrils. “I also remember how you introduced
me
. I guess all the chicks you fuck wear multiple hats.”

Again, he steps toward me, but this time when I try to retreat, I find my back pressed up against the metal fence. Shit. I’m pinned in. My stare is glued to the ground as I focus on breathing.

Lifting his hand under my chin, he slowly tilts my face up until our gazes meet, causing my stomach to backflip. “Give me five minutes to talk, to explain. If you still want nothing to do with me after, I’ll buy you a first-class ticket back to Denver tonight. I promise.”

I open my mouth to tell him to go ahead and book the ticket, but instead, I blurt out, “You’ve got two minutes, starting now.”

He doesn’t waste a single second. “Mercedes is my agent and manager. She’s the one responsible for getting my three biggest sponsors, and I owe her a lot for taking a chance on me before my career really took off. Yes, we’ve slept together on several occasions, but it’s never been anything serious. She’s been known to get a little possessive whenever she sees me with anyone else, but I swear that’s a
her
thing. I’ve never led her to believe we’re anything except what we are.”

Pausing briefly for a deep breath, he continues to talk, never once pulling his eyes from mine. “I meant to warn you about her before we got here, but honestly, I’m having so much damn fun with you, and then that thing you did with your mouth before we got dressed . . . I just fucking forgot.”

“And what about Dallas? Why didn’t you tell me you saw her there?”

“Because there was nothing to tell about Dallas!” he insists, frustration etching in his forehead. “I sat in a meeting with her, her brother, and some ad executives for an hour talking about shooting a commercial. When the meeting was over, I came straight back to you. Nothing happened between us then, not even a hug. I told you while you’re in my bed there wouldn’t be anyone else, and I didn’t fucking lie, Dakota!”

Why do I want to believe him? Why is everything he’s saying making sense? Wait . . .

“That still doesn’t explain why you’d introduce me as your massage therapist. I mean, shit, I think I’d have rather been called your
flavor of the week
or something. It was like you were purposely insinuating to her that we
aren’t
fucking,” I spout, raising my hands up between our bodies to his chest, readying myself to shove him away.

He sighs as he lowers his forehead to mine. “I fucked up,” he admits. “I freaked out, because I didn’t want her to be a bitch to you. If she knew you meant something to me, she’d get nasty, and knowing you and your feisty personality, you’d get even nastier, and then shit would get crazy. We’ve only got four full days left together, and I didn’t want to spend those dealing with her shit. So I freaked out, and I fucked up.” Bringing his other hand to my face, he cradles my jaw in his palms as his thumbs brush soft strokes back and forth across my cheeks. “I’m sorry, Sunshine. I’ll fix this; just don’t leave yet. I want you here with me.
Fuck . . .
please.”

Something about the way he adds that ‘fuck’ just before the ‘please’ does me in. It’s exactly what I needed to make me believe one-hundred-and-ten-percent that he’s telling the truth. That, and the look in his eyes.

“Okay, I’ll stay,” I agree, leaning my face into his touch. “Just no more surprises, Hulk.”

Feathering his lips over mine, he whispers, “I promise,” then claims them more forcefully in a kiss that reiterates his apology a thousand times over.

When we eventually break apart, I assume we’re going back into the party to find Emilia, Gunner, and their friend, Rhino, but Levi has other plans. He snakes his hands downward, intentionally dragging directly over the swell of my breasts, flicking the barbells that adorn my pebbled pink buds, and finally stopping at my hips.

“Need you right now.” His voice rumbles in my ear as he spins me around and presses his cock against the cleft of my ass. “I can’t wait any longer.”

“James,” I hiss, grabbing hold of the top rail. “Anyone can walk out here.”

Slowly, he glides a hand up my inner thigh while he peppers an assortment of kisses and nibbles along the back of my neck and across my shoulder. “And?” he dares.

My legs spread on their own accord, giving him access to my throbbing center. Shocks of electricity tingle beneath my skin when he gently strokes my seam, and when he spreads my slick lower lips and dips a finger into my core, I moan with delight.

“I don’t give a fuck who sees us, Sunshine,” he murmurs against my sensitive flesh. “They all need to know you’re mine.”

The sound of his zipper being undone slices through the summer night’s air. “Every.”

My skirt bunches up around my waist. “Fucking.”

The crown of his cock rubs up and down my slit, ass to clit, several times before stopping lined up perfectly with my dripping cunt. “Inch.”

Plunging inside me with one stroke, I muffle back a scream as he growls fiercely, “
Mine!”

And he’s right.

I am.

SATURDAY, JUNE 30

WAFFLES AND FRIED CHICKEN. A
pairing I never would’ve put together myself, but as I lounge in the middle of the big, comfy bed, flipping through my girly magazines while I eat, I decide it’s the best breakfast duo ever. Seriously. It’s fucking phenomenal.

Usually, I’m more of a cereal, granola, and fruit kind of girl—which is substantially cheaper (and healthier) than the scrumptious combination of the crunchy, syrupy heart-attack-on-a-plate in front of me. But lately, I’ve been splurging on my menu selections, trying a little bit of everything this four-diamond establishment has to offer, ever since I learned one of Levi’s sponsors is footing the bill for the room and food. He told me to get what I want, and this morning, I wanted waffles and fried chicken.

A knock at the door disturbs my mind-blowing foodgasm, and already I hate whoever it is. Don’t they know I’m busy in here? Can they not see the
Privacy please
door hanger? It’s a good thing I hadn’t started rubbing maple syrup all over my body.

There’s a second knock, followed by a third, each a bit more forceful than the last before I hear a feminine voice call out. “Levi? Levi, are you in there?”

And that gets my ass moving.

Scrambling off the mattress, my feet somehow twist up in the sheets, and I take a nosedive onto the floor with a thud, but I recover quickly and somehow manage to make it to the door in one piece. I don’t even think about what I’m wearing—or not wearing, for that matter—when I swing the door open to find exactly who I expected to be there.

“Mercedes,” I state flatly, giving her my best bored face. After her numerous attempts over the last couple of days to irritate the fuck out of me, I don’t want her to have the pleasure of getting a reaction out of me.

Wearing her signature fake-ass smile, she gives me a complete once-over then shakes her head in disbelief. “Do you always greet guests without pants on?”

I glance down at my attire, which is made up of one of Levi’s silky jerseys that barely covers the lacy thong underneath, and knee-high skater socks that I’d bought with Emilia during our shopping excursion earlier in the week. For not even trying, I look pretty fucking hot.

My lips curl up in a cocky smirk as I bring my gaze back to her. “When I feel like it,” I retort. “Now what do you want?”

“Levi. Is he here?” Lifting up on her toes, her eyes dart around the room behind me, searching for him.

“No. He’s out.” I close the door so that there’s only room for my narrow frame in the doorway, limiting her view.

Rolling her eyes, she crosses her arms over her boobs, which are as fake as her stupid smile. “Do you know if he has his phone or when he’ll be back? I’ve been trying to call him all morning, and I need to talk to him as soon as possible.”

“I have no idea what his schedule is or if he has his phone. I’m not his personal assistant,” I snap.

“Oh, that’s right; you’re the
massage therapist.”
Malice sparks in her eyes as the callous words tumble from her red-painted lips. “I was meaning to ask you the other night before you ran off if I could schedule an appointment before you leave. It’s hard to find good service attendants when I’m on the road.”

Snickering, I give my head a quick shake. “I’m sorry, honey, but you can’t afford my services.”

She scoffs, tossing her dark, shiny hair behind her shoulder. “
Honey
,” she mocks, “surely Levi has told you who I am and the family I come from. I’ve got more money in my purse right now than you’ll probably ever make in your lifetime. I can afford
anything
I want.”

“The only form of payment I’m currently accepting is cock. Long, thick, hard cock.” My eyes drift down to her crotch. “So unless you’ve got something hidden in between there, you can’t afford me.”