Cocky F@#ker (Tangled Desires #3) (4 page)

He scrapes my hair back from my face and stares at me with those deep blue eyes of his, so clear and easy to want to get lost in. “Your secrets are safe with me. Don’t you think if I was going to tell them, I would have by now?”

Yes.
“I guess so.”

But I don’t know what to think when he’s right in front of me. His fingers still hover on my skin, and his penetrating gaze is warming me from the inside out. The logical side of my brain is being bombarded by the need to reach out and stroke the hard wall of his chest, to grab his shirt and yank him closer so I can run my lips over his. And I hate it. I hate that I can’t stop this response I have to him. I hate that he thinks he has a chance in hell of getting me to give in again.

The twinge at the corner of his lip, almost teasing, speaks volumes I don’t want to hear.
You want to whip off your clothes right now and show me all the bits of you that you want my mouth on, my dick in.

His head bows a little, as though he can read my mind. As though he knows I’ll give in to him.
Predatory.
That’s the way he looks at me. And my heart races at the idea of being caught up in him again.

Instead, I shove both palms against his chest and push him away. “If you’re serious about staying in Reverence we need to come to a truce.”

“What do you have in mind?” He reaches up to rub the back of his neck.

I clamp my tongue to the roof of my mouth while I drink in the rippling display of muscle. It doesn’t matter that I’m not planning on ever having those arms around me again, they’re still a work of art.

“Friends,” I say. “We used to be before we hopped into bed together. Surely we can act like mature adults and pretend like it never happened.”

“You want to sweep it all under the rug? Just
pretend
like it never happened? That we didn’t—”

I clamp my hand over his mouth, and practically hiss at him. “Exactly. You and I. We never screwed things up.”

For a moment I think he’s going to change his mind and tell Tom everything. About the night in the barn, getting married in Vegas, and top it off with the shiny cherry of last night’s fiasco. There’s a sudden flash of ire in his gaze that burns bright for a second. Then he steps back with a shrug. “If that’s what you really want.”

“It’s what I really want.” Because wanting anything else will only end up with us not being able to get along as friends, and my relationship with the rest of the Hadleys is too important to me to not have him in my life.

Although it was certainly easier to deal with him when he wasn’t in Reverence, and in my face at every turn, making it so hard to think straight. It would be impossible to be around him if we destroyed what’s left of our friendship. The idea of never being able to snark at him, or not seeing that smug look he gets leaves me with an abrupt emptiness in my heart. He’s been part of my life for so long that the idea of him not being in it feels like losing a part of myself.

No, not having him in my life at all isn’t an option.

Mace

Slap. Slap. Slap. My feet pound gravel as I push a little harder. Running is easy. It’s not much more than putting one foot in front of the other. Of course, it doesn’t stop my brain from doing laps, but it takes the edge off.

Even though the sun hasn’t crested yet, it’s already stifling. Sweat drips down my forehead and into my eyes as I take another corner. I’m used to seeing death every time I shut my eyes, but last night was different. Interspersed between the memories that haunt me and sent me home to lick my wounds were flickers of other moments I regret.

“I think Jackson is going to invite you to prom,” Tom grumbles as he flops down beside Claire and Chelsea on the bed. They’re reading magazines and giggling over something to do with Justin Bieber or some other douche bag celebrity. “Please tell me you’re not going to go with him.”

“Why? He’s kind of cute, don’t you think, Chelsea?” Claire says, shifting so she’s sitting cross-legged, which is when she spots me, slouched in the doorway. “What’s up, Mace?”

“Nothing,” I say. “Checking on you clowns.”

Chelsea glances at me over her shoulder. The neck of her shirt falls down her arm to reveal a delectable sliver of skin I want to put my mouth on. She doesn’t smile. I don’t think she has in a while. I certainly haven’t seen it, although I’ve seen the sadness in her gaze, the way her green eyes brighten and she blinks rapidly as though fighting to hold herself in check.

It makes me want to pull her into my arms and kiss her until she forgets why she’s so unhappy. How she’s hurting over a guy who isn’t worth the time or care she’s given him.

She gets up off the bed, crossing the room toward me. “Do you think we could talk?”

“Sure. It’ll be just like old times,” I mutter. Before we fucked in my parent’s barn the night my brother left home months ago. Before I realized I’d have done anything for this girl, except be the fill in for what she really wanted. Rush. Too bad I didn’t work that out until she ran off after him. “But can it wait? I have somewhere to be.”

I hadn’t had a damn thing to do that day. I just hadn’t wanted to hear her tell me how badly we’d fucked up, and how she was still in love with Rush. Or how we were somehow supposed to go back to being friends. So I’d left her standing there in the doorway, with Tommy proclaiming I had a date. Which I didn’t. Because no girl could compare to her back then. But no one needed to know that. Especially her.

It’s still not the biggest mistake I ever made.

Climbing the wooden steps, I let myself into the house. It’s quiet, dawn only beginning to break. I reach back and grab the neck of my shirt so I can rip the sopping cotton over my head as I make my way through to the kitchen. Most of us have always been early risers so I put the coffee pot on before I head for the shower.

“M-morning.” Chelsea stumbles out of Tommy’s room, heel in one hand, the other already on her foot.

My gaze travels the line of her calf, up to her knee where the hem of her navy business skirt starts, while she slips the other shoe on. She’s all prim and proper, her white collared shirt buttoned all the way up. It reveals nothing, and yet highlights her curves. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything sexier. Or anything that tempted me to remove it as quickly as possible so I could glimpse what’s underneath.

“Do you always sleep with my brother?”

“Don’t be uncouth,” she snaps, twisting her hair up into a bun on top of her head while she pushes past me to get to the bathroom. “I fell asleep while we were watching a movie last night.”

“I didn’t even know you were here. I thought we were supposed to be friends,” I say, pretending to be hurt. Although it does kind of piss me off that she makes this big show of how we have to be friends, have to get along, and she’s sneaking around as though she’s trying to avoid me.

She leans over the counter to apply her lip gloss, her gaze flicking to me in the mirror. “Do you always follow your friends to the bathroom? Whatever happened to privacy, or is that beyond your comprehension?”

I’m standing in the door of the bathroom, making a total dick of myself while she pretties herself up, because despite what I said when she asked for a truce I do not want to be friends with her.

What I want is to take advantage of the position she’s in, leaning over the counter, her ass hugged by the tight fabric of her skirt. I’m fucking hard at the idea of flipping it up over her back and grasping her hips. No, I definitely do not want to be
friends.

Stepping inside, I shut the door behind me. “Better?”

Her gaze pops, and I can see the hitch in her throat as she glances behind me at the shut door before she spins around. “No. You’re supposed to be on the other side of the door.”

I like getting under her skin. The way she struggles to hide that she wants me when she can’t think straight gives me pleasure. Her gaze is riveted to the tattoo that covers my left pec, shoulder, and bicep as she darts her tongue over her lips. They’re all shiny from the gloss and her spit, almost like they would be if I kissed her. Maybe I should. I sure as hell want to. Haven’t been able to stop thinking about it, actually.

“What do you think you’re doing?” she whispers as I take a step toward her, but she tilts her head, her lips parted and her pupils dilating. Almost as if she’s waiting for me.

Her scent gets up my nose, and I stifle a groan as I lean closer. Tiny pants escape her lips, and I haven’t even touched her yet. God, I want to touch her, want to haul her into my arms and kiss the ever-loving fuck out of that juicy mouth. I scrape my hand over the skin below the sleeve of her shirt, and she shivers, but I don’t do what I want to do. I don’t wrap my arm around her and press her to me. Instead, I reach past her and twist the taps in the shower.

The steady thrum of water falling fills the tiny space as I take a step back and watch her dart glances between me and the running water, the lines between her eyebrows crinkling. It takes her a minute to realize what I’m doing. That I’m not actually going to kiss her, or try to get her naked.

At least not today.

Pushing away from the counter, she composes herself, giving me one of those patented death stares I’m pretty sure are reserved only for me. “You can’t be serious. I’m still in here. What if I wanted to get naked or, or something?”

Despite how fucking much I’d want to stay right here and watch her strip for me, if she wanted to get naked I’d make myself leave the room. But I’m not an idiot. She’s already dressed and looking like perfection. I bet she’s out of the bathroom in the next five seconds anyway. “If you want to get naked go for it. It’s nothing I haven’t seen before.”

“You are such an arrogant prick.”

“Are you finished?” I undo the string in the waist of my shorts. “Because I’d really like to take my shower in peace.” Her gaze flicks down my torso to where my hands are, and I grin as her fingers involuntarily grip the edge of the counter while she flushes with heat. I’m pretty sure by the way she stares at the outline of my erection I’m not the only one who wants to see the other naked. “Unless you want to join me. We could save water while we scrub each other’s backs.”

For a second she looks like she’s seriously considering it. Like the idea of getting wet with me is enough to have her clenching her thighs. Yeah, I notice the small details. Fighting, fucking, it doesn’t matter. Her body always betrays how much she wants me. That’s how we collide, over and over. Even when we both scream,
It won’t happen again
.

The rhythm of her chest rising and falling, and the way she darts a quick glance at the shower makes my cock twitch. She’s probably imagining me running soapy hands all over her body, my mouth licking droplets of water from her skin before I get between her legs.

And I have no fucking issues at all with that idea. But she’ll have to be the first to make a move.

Because I’m not the one who keeps reiterating how we’re just a series of fuck ups and mistakes.

“Gah.” She lets out a frustrated huff and pushes past me, finally getting her equilibrium back. “You’re such a tool. And I’m going to be late to work.”

“Maybe next time.” I smirk.

“I think the words you’re looking for are never ever. I’m filing for the annulment today.” She flips me the bird. Her finger right up in my face, before she spins on her heel and hightails it out of the bathroom, slamming the door behind her.

Chelsea

I can hear Mace laughing on the other side of the door. God, he’s so full of himself. Obviously he hadn’t meant it when he agreed to the truce, but if he thinks I’m going to turn into a melted puddle of goo because he tosses me a smile that has my pulse racing or gets up close enough I want to dart my tongue out and lick him, he’s deranged.

Because I fully intend to stick to rules of this truce. I’m going to friend the crap out of him until he realizes that’s exactly what we’re supposed to be.

When I enter the kitchen, Claire looks up from where she’s ladling sweetener into her coffee. “Do you want some?”

“Only if you don’t murder it with sugar,” I say, grabbing an apple from the bowl on the counter. If Mace hadn’t gotten in my way this morning I would have had breakfast, but now this will have to do. “How’s your little mission with Razer going?” I drop my voice so no one will hear if they’re nearby.

Little Bit’s the baby of the family and her mission to get Razer, the other adoptive member of the Hadley family, into her bed would ruffle a few feathers if her brothers found out about it. Especially Mace. He and Razer were always the closest, even joining the marines together, and I’m not sure Mace has the maturity to deal with his little sister getting involved with anyone, let alone his best friend.

He’s barely evolved. More like a caveman. So much testosterone, his idea of a relationship is to get you into his bed and then leave.

Claire smiles, her eyes sparkling. “You know I can’t kiss and tell. At least not in this house.”

“Did you?” I gawp at her, as she nods and hands me a travel mug.

“You coming back for dinner tonight?”

“Of course.” I grin, juggling the cup and apple while I snatch up my bag. I have a mission of my own. One that involves getting in Mace Hadley’s face as much as possible. I’m going to kill him with how completely happy I am to be
just
friends if it’s the last thing I do.

***

I crunch through a mouthful of salad while I flip the envelope end over end on my desk. Monday couldn’t come quick enough so I’d filled in the annulment paperwork over the weekend. But now that I actually have time to run out and deal with it, I’m sitting at my desk in the empty office, procrastinating.

It’s only because this morning was so busy with clients coming in and out and the bosses were both out of the office; that’s the reason I’m manning the Lance Starr Construction office alone and haven’t been able to leave my desk. It has nothing to do with the forms in my hand.

I chew on a piece of grilled chicken while I will myself out of the chair. I file and the biggest mistake of my life goes away. Or at least, the part where I married him.

And yet, I keep glancing at the door, waiting for another client to walk in. I can’t leave because then there’ll be nobody to answer the phones or deal with walk-ins.

I toss the envelope across my desk, watching it skid over the surface and land in a pile of paperwork. It’s pathetic, really, that I haven’t dealt with it up until now. It’s not like it meant anything back then.

His arm’s curled around my waist, holding me to him while he sleeps. His black hair is messed up, his long lashes flutter against his cheekbones. I hadn’t expected to see him in Vegas. It had been years since the last time we talked. Well, not talked so much as he’d gotten inside me in a way I could never get him out.

All those years he hadn’t talked to me vanished while we’d trekked all over Vegas. Mace Hadley in all his surliness had been utterly charming last night. I creep my hand up his side and stare at the band on my finger. Somehow, we ended up married. I remember the chapel, the way he told me I was going to marry him with that cocky fucker grin on his face. The one that makes me weak in the knees, and in the head. But this time is different. It’s not just one night.

This is the rest of our lives.

If I recall correctly the rest of our life together had lasted approximately three hours. Long enough for me to head back to my hotel to get my bags, run into Rush in the lobby on his way up to see Mace, and decide that it would probably be a good idea to break the news gently to the one member of the Hadley family who had known anything about what happened between Mace and I after he left.

By the time we came back to the suite, Mace was gone. Not a sign he’d been there in the first place.

And I hadn’t been the one he bothered to contact to tell us he’d headed back to the base. No, he’d called Rush and given him the job of breaking the news.

Karma, I guess, for Rush doing it to him six years earlier. But, I’d deserved better.

I dump the rest of my lunch in the trash.
Bastard.
I still don’t understand how he came to the conclusion that was an acceptable way to end things between us after going through it with Rush. I’d honestly thought Mace was better than that. But I’d been wrong.