CHAPTER 13
West
“It’s confirmed—Appleton wants a rematch.” Max plopped down in front of me in the cafeteria, clutching his lunch in his greasy fingers.
I was trying to figure out what the fuck was in the sandwich I’d purchased five minutes earlier from the canteen. I’d spent a good portion of my time on earth hating on Easton’s soggy omelet sandwiches; I hadn’t considered cafeteria food was far worse.
But Easton’s sandwiches weren’t on the menu for me anymore. Having them would require talking to Easton, and as of the last three days, we were officially beefing.
At first, my ex-best friend had the audacity to act like nothing had happened.
He’d tried to talk to me about football, then about a few campus rumors, then about how Tess had been going around telling people she got her Tarot cards read and apparently, she’d been told she’d marry a guy from Maine.
I adopted Grace’s strategy and treated him like he was air.
I’d live off mud and ingrown nails before speaking to the traitor. Even when he pointed out that I’d given him explicit permission to date Tex, I didn’t relent. He’d obviously pursued her to piss me off.
Mission accomplished—I was toeing the line of decapitating him.
“A rematch?” I elevated an eyebrow, scanning Max like I needed to scrub him off of the bottom of my boots. “Last time we fought, he and his friends blackmailed you, if I’m not mistaken.”
I was never mistaken.
Max chuckled, ruffling his mane of fuzzy red hair, which reminded me of those metal pads people used to clean industrial skillets.
“I mean, yeah, but I still made three times more than I would on a normal night. You win some, you lose some, right?”
I slam-dunked my sandwich into the trash, opting to pluck a bag of Cheetos from Max’s hand. He made no move to reclaim it. I popped it open and threw a Cheeto into my mouth, eyeballing him.
“Asshole tried to claw my eyes out.”
“Yeah, he was a little desperate to win. Had something to prove.” Max stroked his pimply chin. “But the pay would be at least double this time. Emotions were running high last time. Word of mouth alone would allow us to up our charge on the tickets, and that’s without concessions.”
I did the math in my head. The number made my mouth water. It was high enough for me to be able to pay off my parents’ loan, which was currently suffocating the hell out of them.
I’d finally get them off my case and give them what they’d always wanted—enough money to start over. Bonus points? I’d be out of their lives for good.
Sure, Kade Appleton was about as honorable as a used thong, and I was pretty certain he’d been following me around town, or at least sending someone else to do the dirty job for him, but I’d taken down guys three times his size, while I was in various levels of intoxication.
“Heard he’s been running his mouth about me,” I said.
“Can’t say he hasn’t. Ever since he lost the Vegas gig, he’s been a bit of a Bitter Betty. Fighting is all he really knows how to do.”
He was pretty good at whining, too.
“What’s in it for him?” I jerked my chin toward my bookie.
“His pride,” Max crowed, throwing his arms in the air. “You annihilated him. Knocked his lights out for thirty seconds straight. Then he argued and fussed about it like a pussy.”
The ‘like’ had no business being in that sentence. He was a pussy. End of story.
I finished Max’s Cheetos and cracked open his can of Coke, taking a gulp and running my tongue over my teeth.
“I’m gonna have to set some ground rules.”
“Such as?”
“Record the whole thing, so the asshole won’t make excuses when I obliterate him.”
“That’s fair. I’ll pass on the message.”
“And winner takes all.”
“All the money?”
I crushed the empty Coke can in my fist, tossing it into the trash without aiming. “You’ll get your bookie cut.”
I’d done some digging after my fight with Appleton and found out just how much of a shady jackass he was. Blackmail, dog fighting, stalking, and domestic assault took a huge chunk of his internet presence. But the money was too good to pass up. I didn’t mind breaking a rib or two. Hell, dying wouldn’t be so awful either. It wasn’t like anyone around truly gave a crap.
“One last thing—no funny business this time. If I catch him trying to shove fingers into my eye sockets, mouth, or ass, I’m breaking every bone in his body. No exceptions.” I pointed at Max.
He nodded, his tongue almost lapping out. A rabid dog after a meaty bone.
“Sure thing. So, can I tell Shaun it’s on?”
Shaun. I remembered the useless sack of muscles. He looked like every murderer in an eighties movie. A flashback of the moment I got out of the Plaza and heard murmurs from the bushes assaulted my memory. I pushed it away.
And so what if I was being followed? The outcome of the fight didn’t make much difference to me. If they killed me before the fight, tough luck. If not, at least I’d be able to detonate his ass, take the money, give it to my parents and throw them out of my life for good.
“Make it happen.” I rapped the table between us, getting up to leave.
I had a feeling this was going to implode.
Luckily, I didn’t care.
I showed up to work fifteen minutes early. Karlie was there, standing in Texas’ station, filling the bar with sour cream, guacamole, and fajitas. I slouched off my backpack, scowling at her ass.
“What’re you doing here?”
What I’d meant to ask was, where in God’s name was Texas? Had she stopped taking shifts with me now?
I’d apologized. What more did she need? Chocolate and flowers?
Chocolate and flowers.My brain had officially left the building. My dick, however, was in the house and calling all the shots. I wasn’t buying anyone chocolate. Or flowers. Or matching purity rings, goddammit. Tex was just a friend. All I wanted was to have her back as one and, if possible, not get asked by Easton to be the best man at their wedding. Unless he wanted his bride stolen.
Karlie looked up from the sour cream she was pouring, sweeping her intelligent eyes over me. “Grace got the day off.”
“I can see that. Why?”
She set the empty sour cream container aside, wiping her hands over her turquoise That Taco Truck apron.
“I’m sorry, how is it any of your business?” She elevated a manicured eyebrow. That was a good question. I wasn’t entirely sure how to answer that. I just knew it was.
“I’m guessing she shared details about our last hang out with you,” I quipped.
“You’re guessing correctly. A few days late, but I’m now in the loop.”
“And I’m guessing you are not deeply impressed with me at the moment.”
“Also correct. Wow. It’s your lucky day. You should be buying lottery tickets right about now.” She blew a raspberry.
“You’re fucking hilarious, Contreras.”
“And you’re a fucking douchebag,” she quipped back.
“Tell me something I don’t know.”
“Are you sure?” She smiled tauntingly. “’Cause I got a few things I know that might be of interest to you and will spoil your mood.”
I immediately saw what she was getting at.
I turned around, locked the door, then folded my arms and leaned against it, staring her down.
“Is this supposed to scare me?”
“Only if you don’t tell me where she is.”
I had an inkling Grace had gone out with Easton. I also had an inkling Easton was getting murdered tonight by yours truly.
“Get comfortable. Because I ain’t gonna do that.”
“I’ll give you free tickets to the fight next Friday.”
“Oh my God, really?” Karlie put her hands on her heart, squeaking. Her smile dropped immediately. “Hard pass. The beer is gross and you’re not that important.”
I racked my brain to figure out what a girl like Karlie might want in return for information. The answer was obvious. Dick. She wanted to hook up, like everyone else in college. She was with Texas’ crowd. Meaning, she hung out with Bible-thumping virgins who treated the other sex like they were mythical creatures, only to be admired from afar.
Of course. A Bible-thumping girl would go for the whitest, most middle-class guy on campus. I remembered the night Karlie and Grace came to see me fight.
“I’ll throw in a good word with Miles Covington.”
“You don’t know Miles Covington.”
“He’s my errand boy.”
He wasn’t, but I knew him well enough to get him to take her out if need be. Hell, for the right price, I’d have him marry Little Einstein.
She rolled her eyes, her shoulders dropping with a sigh.
“Well, it’s not really a secret, anyway. I just wanted to mess with you.” She excused herself.
I leaned forward, giving her my full attention.
“She went to the movies.” Karlie jutted her chin out. “With Easton Braun.”
There was only one movie theater in this godforsaken town.
I turned around and dashed out, bailing on my shift.
“Hey! Where are you going?” she hollered after me. “I can’t do this on my own!”
“Have a little faith,” I yelled back.
I was getting the fucking girl.
Whether I deserved her or not.
When the teenager with the retainer and unfortunate dad bod asked me what movie I wanted to see behind the box office glass, I pointed at the one with Kate Hudson on the poster.
“M—Mona Lisa a—and the Blood Moon?” he sputtered, pushing his thick glasses up the bridge of his nose.
“Problem?” I drawled.
The kid shook his head, his shoulders quaking with a suppressed laugh. He was about to get a front row seat to How to Lose an Eye in Ten Seconds if he wasn’t careful.
I grabbed the ticket and got into the theater forty minutes into the movie. It was early afternoon. Who took a girl to a movie midday? A pretentious little shit like Easton, that was who. He’d probably promised to have her back home before curfew.
I went up the stairs, scanning the mostly empty seats. I spotted them in one of the back rows, huddled together, sharing popcorn.
I lumbered up the stairs, taking a seat beside Grace, essentially sandwiching her between Easton and me. Their eyes didn’t waver from the movie. Collateral punishment for my shitty behavior.
I could practically hear East snickering in my ear.
“Here to team-tag Blondie?”
He hadn’t even said that, and my fingers curled around the armrests, almost snapping the damn things.
Nothing about this was familiar territory for me.
I’d never had girl problems before.
My philosophy had been as follows: if they wanted to hook up—great; if not—no problem. The two relationships I’d had in high school were easy. My girlfriends had been physically pleasing and cool to hang out with. But I never felt like I could kill anyone who looked their way. And it was starting to feel like, in Grace Shaw’s case, I had the tendency to get very jealous and very possessive anytime someone as much as breathed her way.
“I was an asshole,” I piped up finally, my voice rough.
Grace popped two popcorn kernels into her pink mouth, blinking at the screen under her ball cap.
“Fine. Am. I am an asshole, happy?”
“Amp it up, man.” Easton tsked, snickering into a fist full of popcorn. “I’m not hearing you owning up to it. I wanna see you sweat. Maybe throw a Notebook quote in.”
Suddenly, I knew exactly what this was. My best friend wanted to prove a point. To show me I cared for this girl.
East pushed, and he’d pushed far, not because he wanted to tap Grace’s ass, but because he wanted to kick mine into action. I’d been lying to myself since the day I’d met this chick.
A faint smile rose on Texas’ lips. They were a nice pair of lips. Pale and pillowy, the bottom plumper than the upper one.
“He’s right,” she teased. “A quote from The Notebook would make everything better.”
“Shh!” someone a few rows below growled.
The Notebook, they said? I’d watched it a thousand times with … never mind.
My jaw ticked, and I ignored the rapid pulses in my eyelid. “You got a taste for humiliation?” I scanned her coldly.
“Tit for tat,” she tutted. “You humiliated me. It’s only fair that I witness you squirm.”
Damn this girl to hell. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath.
“I could be whatever you want. Just tell me what you want, and I’ll become that,” I said quietly.
It might not have been verbatim, but it was damn close. She shivered in her seat. Easton threw his head back, his entire body quaking with silent laughter. He wasn’t going to be so happy when I got back home later tonight to pull out his toenails with tweezers while he watched.
“I’m sorry I shoved you out the door the other day. It was shitty, and rude, and out of order. It wasn’t because I didn’t want you there. My mother and I don’t get along—as you can tell from my ignoring her constantly—and I didn’t want her to say something that would offend you. Which, ironically, blew up in my face.”
In my periphery, Easton’s body was now practically shaking in his seat with laughter. He got up. I spat the apple candy in my mouth into the cup holder between us before it snapped in two.
“I’ll leave you two lovebirds to it. Westie, don’t be … uh, you, basically.” Easton excused himself, clapping my shoulder on his way out. He skipped down the stairs, merry as a stoner at a dispensary.
Grace turned to face me. Again, I found myself cursing the douchebag who’d invented ball caps. I could hardly see her face.
I took her pinky in mine and squeezed. She let me. She tipped her chin up. Those damn summer sky eyes were going to be my undoing. I’d always been an ass man, but those eyes did to my dick what no ass on planet Earth could.
“Tex.”
“I hate you.”
“I know. Tex?”
“Next time you’re a jerk, I won’t be so forgivin’.”
“Duly noted. Tex?”
“We can be friends again, but this is your last chance.”
“Tex!”
“What!”
“Fuck friendship. I miss your lips.”
Her shoulders eased, like she’d released a breath she’d been holding. “They missed you, too.” Pause. “The rest of you, not so much.”
This girl gave as good as she got.
And she got a whole lotta shit from the world.
I grabbed her cap and flipped it backwards as I dove in for a kiss. Even through the coat of popcorn salt, she tasted warm and sweet and soft. Always so fucking soft. I sucked her lower lip into my mouth, nibbling on it until she moaned and gasped, clutching my shirt.
My eyes were so heavy lidded, I could barely keep them open, but I still didn’t fully shut them. She was gorgeous like this, in the dark, the blue lights of the screen dancing across her face. I wanted to ink this moment into memory, because I knew I would screw it up eventually.
I was going to lose her.
But at least I was going to have her first.
This was going to be temporary.
And painful.
And worth it.
The only thing that had changed between today and yesterday was my acceptance that the train wreck had left the station and was now heading toward a sizzling pile of explosives at a rapid speed.
I wanted Grace ‘Texas’ Shaw.
Wanted in her pants.
In her mouth.
In every hole she possessed (apart from the urethra, maybe).
I wanted her mean jokes and pure heart and dazzling eyes, and that bumpy scar that felt like silk under my fingertips.
Her skin was a continent of explorations I wanted to unveil, and kiss, and nibble. To learn her stories—her fears—by tracing my lips along all the places of her that hurt once.
She slid her fingers into my hair, producing small throaty noises that made all my blood rush south. Our kiss was feral and deep, our tongues twirling together. I’d never enjoyed kissing so much. Normally, it was just a pit stop on my way to my final destination—Boneville.
But I could kiss Texas to oblivion and back, without coming up for air. My thoughts sounded like a dated Hallmark card, but that didn’t make them any less true. Or any less goddamn disturbing, for that matter.
Her hand slid across my pecs, down my six-pack, her fingers curling over the first button of my jeans.
“Wanna get out of here?” Her lips traced mine as she spoke.
I unglued my mouth from hers, studying her face. She looked sober, and I was one hundred percent positive she didn’t want to go to the concession booth for more stale popcorn.
“I only have one condition,” she warned.
Was it the moon she wanted me to give her? I was open to that. I’d give her the sun, too. I just needed a little time, and maybe a loan or two.
And definitely good life insurance.
“Lay it on me.”
“I don’t want to become one of your Tesses or Melanies. No one-night only rule for us.” She shook her head. “I want you to treat me with respect and care. I know we’re casual, but …” She sucked in a breath, her voice dropping along with her gaze. “For me, it means something. To open up again. Promise you won’t break my trust, West.”
It was the drunkenness of the moment that made me do it.
Forget about my oath to myself. Piss all over my promise not to make any promises.
All I thought about was being inside Grace. To drown in her purity, hoping some of it would rub off on me.
“Promise.”
The word rolled out of my mouth before I could stop it, tasting like ash. I couldn’t take it back. It was there, between us. Alive, swelling, and growing by the nanosecond, pressing against my sternum, making it hard to breathe.
Promise.
Promise.
Promise.
Remember what happened the last time you made a promise?
Grimacing at my own stupidity, I took her hand.
“Let’s dip.”
Twelve minutes later (yes, I counted), we were in front of Texas’ house. Marla had just finished her shift, skipping down the porch’s steps, pushing a cigarette into her mouth and lighting it up.
“That’s all she wrote, kids. Have fun and keep your hands to yourselves. You especially, St. Claire.”
Grace stood on the first stairway leading to her doorway. The sunset smeared across the sky in pink and orange around her, making her look like a fallen angel.
Apparently, I was now taking note of the fucking scenery and waxing poetic.
I wanted my balls back, but I wanted them slamming against Grace’s pussy even more.
“Do you want to come inside?” She jerked her thumb behind her shoulder after Marla left.
“Any man who tells you differently is buying expired condoms in bulk.” I leaned against Christina casually, trying hard to pretend I didn’t care, when I’d already proven to be so far gone for this chick I wasn’t even in the same zip code as my fucking brain anymore.
It took Tex a second to get it.
She wrinkled her nose. “No bulks for you, huh?”
I shrugged. “Call me old-fashioned, but I like to treat my companion to a good time that includes no-strings-attached or unexpected trips to the pharmacy.”
“Such a fine gentleman.”
“So I’ve been told.”
“And to think I always pegged you as a surly ass.”
“I am.”
“Not with me.”
She wasn’t wrong. Maybe that was why I couldn’t keep away from her, even when every bone in my body (other than my boner) begged me to.
“You remind me of how I was before.” I pretended to wipe invisible dust from my Ducati to do something with my hand.
“Before what?”
“Before everything.”
We stared at each other. Church bells rang in the distance. She took her ball cap off, clutching it between her fingers in her lap. Even though no words were spoken, I knew she was inviting me in.
I took a step.
Then another one.
She didn’t stop me.
By the time I got to her, my toes touching hers through our shoes, we were both breathless.
“I don’t know what we’re doing,” she croaked, tilting her face up. It was the most I’d ever seen of her face. Still full of makeup, but sans the ball cap, the sun sinking its claws inside her skin.
I took her hands in mine.
“Let’s find out together.”
It was the first time I’d been inside Grace’s room. Her grandmother sat in front of the TV, half-napping, half-cursing at VH1 for their poor video clips choices. She looked about as static as the sound coming from the monitor, but pointing it out to Grace seemed counterproductive. Not only for the blood-filled salami between my legs, but also because Tex seemed adamant not to send Mrs. Shaw to a nursing home.
Texas’ room was exactly what I would have expected from Grace Shaw before her scars: peach-colored walls filled with pictures of herself with her grandmother and groups of smiling, wholesome friends. White embodied linen, pompoms, and tickets to plays and movies she’d gone to pinned onto a board along with handwritten letters. It didn’t escape me that her room was in fairly good condition and probably redone after the fire.
She’d wanted to keep being the person she’d been before.
Had hoped that would be the case, which made her tragedy so much more painful.
Grace Shaw was the exact opposite of me.
I tore apart everything that resembled my life pre-tragedy. She held on to hers for dear life, refusing to let go.
I stood in her room, waiting for her to come upstairs while she checked in with Mrs. S. She appeared at the door holding two glasses of iced tea. I didn’t know when or how, but she’d managed to put even more makeup on her face between the time we rode home and now.
Tex went ham with the foundation. It looked like she had an extra face, and I couldn’t imagine it was better than the real thing. Plus, that damn ball cap was on again.
We stood there staring at each other.
“Hi,” she said again, nervous. “Maine.”
“Texas.”
“How do you like our weather?”
What the fuck were we talking about? I was only half-sure.
I swallowed. “It’s very fine.”
I took a step closer.
She stayed put.
I took another step closer.
The swell of her breasts rose as her breath hitched. I was throbbing so hard, I felt my pulse in my dick.
I reached for her, tossing her ball cap to the floor.
I felt like that John Mayer song they played to death on the radio a few years back. “Slow Dancing in a Burning Room.” Everything was urgent, yet agonizingly slow.
We were toe-to-toe now. She didn’t back away. I clasped her chin between my thumb and index, tilting her head up.
“Trust me?”
She nodded, her throat bobbing. I caught her lips in a blistering kiss. It was deep and slow and methodical and different from every kiss I’d ever had. I curled my fingers over the hem of her shirt, jerking her close, until we were flush against each other.
Grace kissed me back, gasping, trying to catch her breath. When her fingers fumbled for my zipper, I raised her shirt, one inch at a time. I wasn’t nervous about what was waiting under it. But I knew she didn’t feel the same.
When I hiked her shirt up to her ribs, Texas stopped my hands from climbing upward, slapping one of my hands away. I raised both my palms up in surrender. She broke the kiss off, taking a step back.
“Sorry.” She chuckled. “Maybe …” She hugged her midriff, tucking her left cheek shyly to her shoulder. “Maybe we can just do it with our clothes on? I mean, you can take yours off. And I’ll take off my pants, obviously …” She closed her eyes, turning beet-red under her makeup. “You won’t mind, right? I guess you hardly have time to undress your hookups at the Plaza …”
“Don’t,” I barked, feeling my nostrils flaring. “Apples and oranges.”
She winced.
Deciding to change tactics, I toed my boots off, then my socks. I pulled down my jeans and briefs in one go, standing in her room completely naked from the waist down. Just me and my raging hard-on, both of us staring pointedly at her.
Her eyes widened.
“Umm, okay? This was sudden …”
“Shirt off, baby,” I ordered in a low growl. A tone I was familiar with, that was all me. She narrowed her eyes at me.
“I told you it made me uncomfortable. Why do you insist on it?”
“Because you’re under the impression whatever I’m going to see is going to be a turn-off for me, and what better way of proving how mistaken you are than by showing you.” I pointed at my throbbing cock. It was purple and swollen. So erect, I doubted I had blood left in other parts of my body. Hell, if I cut my wrist open, I’d probably bleed bone.
“That’s not an experiment I’d like to take part in.”
“Then I guess you’ll have to flick the bean to get off.” I crouched—yes, without my goddamn pants on—making a show of picking up my jeans.
“Wait!”
I froze mid-action, smiling to myself with my head bowed down.
“You won’t … we won’t do it if I don’t show you my scars?”
I straightened my spine, licking my lips as I took off my shirt, now standing butt naked. That was better. Nothing felt quite as emasculating as standing partly naked in front of someone (though buying one midday showing ticket to a Kate Hudson flick came in close).
The things this chick makes me do.
“That’s right. Tit for tat. I’m naked. You’re naked. That’s the equation.”
She stared up at the ceiling, shaking her head. “It ain’t pretty. The left side of me anyway.”
“Every part of you is lickable. Nothing is going to change it. Especially your battle scars. Now get naked before I faint from lack of blood.”
She hesitated before removing her shirt in one rapid flick. She unclasped her bra then squeezed her eyes shut, wincing as she awaited my verdict, standing very still in front of me.
I stroked my cock, drinking in every inch of her torso. Her stomach was flat, her tits pear-shaped and bouncy. Her nipples were tiny, perfect for my mouth, and pebbled. The left side of her body was marred from the fire. Uneven, angry stains of red and purple wove across her skin like a painting.
Everything about her was honeyed and smooth and fuckable to a fault.
I advanced toward her while her eyes were closed. With every step I took, her breathing became shallower, until I was standing beside her.
She stopped breathing.
So did I.
I bent down, taking the nipple of her left, marred breast between my lips and sucking it deep into my mouth. She moaned, her hands shooting to clasp my head. I dropped my forehead against her collarbone, my cock pulsating between us, begging to get in on the action.
Down, boy. Not yet.
“If you tell anyone about this, I’m goin’ to kill you.” She drew me closer to her uneven nipple. A shade darker than her right, healthy one and a few inches larger due to scar tissue. I gave it the royal treatment. Kissed and licked and tugged softly with my teeth, running the tip of my tongue around the areola and blowing on it. She shuddered, thrusting her breasts in my face. Her entire body was arched and ready.
“About what? Your scar, or sucking your tits?” I moved to her other, “normal” nipple. I was half-crouching, and my quads were on fire. But I wanted her to see just how much she turned me on. Which reminded me …
I took her free hand, the one that didn’t try to yank out my hair, and circled it around my cock.
Still hard as a rock and just as intelligent, considering I made you a fucking promise I’m definitely going to break.
“Both,” she croaked. “Lord, you’re so hard.”
“You’re so beautiful. And so fucking insane,” I murmured to her flesh, now alternating between her tits, kissing and massaging, getting acquainted with them.
We’re going to become the best of friends, ladies, my kisses said. And spend a whole lot of time together.
I hoisted her up so her legs wrapped around my waist and carried her by the ass to her twin bed. I eased her down to the mattress, not breaking the kiss as I unbuttoned her jeans. She stroked my dick, up and down, her hands unsure but eager. I wondered how much experience she had in the sack. The fact she wasn’t a virgin didn’t mean jack shit. I didn’t know anything about her ex-boyfriend, other than the unpromising fact he hadn’t stuck around after the fire.
He was—you guessed it—on my growing list of people to kill if I ever went berserk.
Grace kicked her jeans down her ankles. I stroked the outline of her pussy over her white cotton undies, a violent shudder racking through my body.
So this was what being horny felt like. I must’ve mistaken bored and restless for desire until now, because nothing I’d ever experienced came close to this moment.
Her hand moved faster over my dick. I yanked her underwear sideways, dipping one finger in while kissing a path down her throat. Soaked. I began thrusting two fingers into her, working her up, knowing I couldn’t keep the foreplay up much longer without coming.
Her hot mouth was on my jaw, sucking and nipping. My tongue was on her scars again, lapping, biting. I was rough. I was confident. I didn’t treat her like a china doll. A precious, fragile thing to be handled with care and pity.
I treated her like someone I wanted to fuck until my dick fell off.
She moaned, “More.”
I slid another finger into her, pumping as her hisses became louder. Greedier. She dropped her hand from my cock and clawed at her bed, pushing her face into her pillow to stifle a little scream, her hips bucking into my hand, demanding more.
“West, please.”
“Please, what?” I licked my way down her belly button, dipping my tongue into her perfect innie. My mouth watered as the scent of her became more prominent. I wanted my lips on every inch of this girl, so next time I saw her, I could look at her and think—I know what she tastes like. Everywhere.
“If we don’t do it right now, I might explode,” Grace said.
“I’ll spare you the trip to the ER.”
I rose to my knees, took my wallet out of my back pocket from my discarded jeans on the floor, grabbed a condom, and ripped open the packet, sheathing myself as one of my hands fondled her blemished tit. For some reason, it appealed to me even more than her milky white side. It turned me on, seeing how much she’d been through. How she’d come back swinging, strong and feisty. A survivor.
I sank back down, my body draped all over hers missionary-style, angling my cock toward her center. I drove in an inch at a time, hissing at every fraction of movement. She held my waist, sucking in a breath. We both watched as I slid in. She was hot and wet and damn snug.
Swear to God, I’d never wanted to be in Texas more than in that moment.
It was only when every inch of my cock was inside her that I looked back up at her face again and saw her biting her lower lip, stifling a giggle.
Which … wasn’t the usual MO for chicks who were under me.
I frowned. “Something funny?”
“It’s you.” She shook her head, her face glowing with mischief. “You look like you are on a mission. You should see yourself. So focused. So concentrated.”
I glared at her, not sure how to react.
“When I saw your, eh, thing, in the food truck, I was ninety-nine percent sure I never wanted it inside me. It seemed too big. Too threatening. But you make me feel so comfortable. Thank you.”
I dropped my head to her shoulder, giving it a quick kiss. Essentially, she’d just told me my dick wasn’t that big.
“Stop talking,” I ordered.
“Why? You’re so adorable.”
She called me adorable while I was inside her. Was I ever going to recover?
“Fuck you,” I groaned.
“Please do.”
“On it.”
I began moving inside her. Holy shit, did she feel amazing. Sex always felt damn good. But with Texas, it wasn’t just better, it was … different. We fit.
With each thrust, I felt my balls tightening and tingling, my dick throbbing and pulsating. She shivered in my arms, and I knew she was close, too.
C’mon, Tex. Come before I do.
I wondered since when did I care. I wasn’t a complete jackass. I made sure it was fairly good to the person I was with. Oral aside, I ticked all the boxes—foreplay, strumming their pussy like it was a violin, kisses in sensitive spots, et cetera, et cetera. But I never cared if they hit the big O. Not as long as I knew the happy customers would recommend me to their friends.
With Texas, I cared.
“West. Oh. Lord.” She grabbed my face and lowered my head. I kissed her roughly, my fingers finding her clit between us and rubbing in circles.
Come, or I will have to die from cum poisoning.
“Are you close?” I groaned.
“I’m …” she started, but then flinched, froze, and every muscle in her body tensed like she was having a stroke. She clenched around me so hard the rest of my body had no say in what happened next. I felt my cum shooting into the condom as I experienced the most intense orgasm I’d ever had.
She spasmed around my cock.
“Comin’.”
Thank. Fuck.
“Me too, baby. Me too.”
GRACE
I had sex.
With a boy.
Here was the real kicker—I enjoyed it. I even climaxed once.
Fine, twice.
All right, thrice.
Who would have thought?
Not me, that was for sure. The carnal need in me to feel another body against mine, warm and alive, blew up like a hand grenade the minute West put his lips on my marred nipple and didn’t even flinch.
I tiptoed my way to the living room in an oversized shirt after spending the past three hours with West. It took us ten minutes to recover before tearing at each other again after that first time. I’d suspected we could have gone all night if it wasn’t for West running out of condoms.
Grams was asleep on the couch, snoring softly, her lips pinched in stern disapproval. I scooped up the tiny woman like she was a toddler, carrying her up to her bedroom. It was probably a weird visual to an outsider, but I’d gotten used to it over the years.
Savannah Shaw had the childlike quality of not waking up when she was put to bed. I’d been doing it for a while now. Even before Grams began losing touch with reality. When she still worked two jobs to support us. She’d always fall asleep on the couch. At first, I’d woken her up so she could go to bed—our sofa was narrow, tattered, and itchy—but she’d always wake up for good and end up cleaning the house, doing the dishes, or folding the laundry. With time, I mastered the art of carrying her to her room and tucking her in.
After I put Grams in her bed, I went back to my room. It was dark, hot, and damp, the scent of sex and man lingering in the air. The iced tea glasses I’d brought hours ago remained untouched, framed by little pools of sweat on my nightstand. West was sprawled in my bed, his arms tucked behind his head, his eyes trained on my ceiling, which had been freshly painted four years ago. He was shirtless, his lower parts covered haphazardly with my blanket. I took a mental photo of him like this, in my territory, calm and content.
My gut wouldn’t let me believe this picture-perfect moment would last.
He patted an invisible space next to him. “Join me, Tex.”
“You’re not leavin’ much room.” I ran my eyes along his frame from the doorway. A lazy smile spread over his face.
“Guess you’ll have to get on top of me, then.”
It was still mind-blowing to me that he looked past my scars. Of course, he hadn’t seen the true extent of their ugliness under my makeup, but they were still there nonetheless. I slid on top of him, bracketing his waist with my thighs, squeezing as I ground over his erection through my blanket.
He groaned, kneading my butt cheeks.
“Pretty sure my dick’s got skid marks at this point. Up for a fourth round?”
“We ran out of condoms.” I laughed throatily.
“I’ll pull out.”
“Are you insane?”
“Horny. Which must be technically the same, because I’ve never suggested that in my entire life.”
“We’re not doin’ that.”
“Why not? I’ll be fast.”
“You’re really selling this to me.” I rolled my eyes.
He laughed. “Fast to pull, not to finish.”
I ran a hand over his forehead, cheeks, and chin, leaning down to kiss the tip of his nose. He was perfect. Every single part of him. Unmarred, smooth, and striking.
“We’ll do it again soon. And be safe about it,” I whispered.
“Promise,” he demanded, covering my hands with his on his chest so I couldn’t move. I thought about the promise he’d made me earlier tonight. To never break my trust.
“Promise.” I smiled.
We snuggled after that. I lay on top of him, skin-to-skin, my ear pressed against his pec, listening to the steady drum of his heart. I thought he fell asleep as the room grew dark.
Then he spoke. “Are you ever going to tell me what happened to you? And no, I’m not asking because I saw your scars today. I’m asking because you act like it never happened, yet you let that shit define you. Every. Single. Day.”
My breath caught in my lungs. Here we go.
It was one of the reasons why I hadn’t gotten close to anyone since what happened. Avoiding the questions, the confessions, the ugly truth behind the uglier scars. But didn’t West deserve a bit of honesty after everything we’d been through?
He did make a promise to me, even though he’d sworn to never do that.
I opened my mouth, not sure what was going to come out of it.
“Nobody knows exactly what happened the night of the fire.”
His chest flexed beneath my head, like I’d knocked the air out of him.
“Rumors around town spread like wildfire, but nothin’ had been confirmed, and I’d like to keep it that way. That’s why I don’t advertise it.”
Plus, reliving the worst night of my life wasn’t exactly my favorite pastime.
I twirled the flame ring around my finger, watching it intently, and suddenly hating it with a passion.
Hating Courtney for never giving it to me in person.
For not being there when the bandages came off.
For not taking responsibility for what she’d created—me.
West stroked my hair. My yellow and gold locks fanned across his bronzed skin. It looked beautiful. Like the sunset.
He should marry a blonde. The thought came out of nowhere, clogging up my throat. Like who, you?
“There’s not advertising it, and there’s not acknowledging it ever happened. I’ve known you for months, and you haven’t mentioned it,” West said.
I closed my eyes. “What do you want to know?”
“Everything. I want to know everything, Tex.”
One more tiny breath.
One last kiss to his chest.
Then I dove in, telling him what only Karlie and Marla knew.
“It was just another night. A Tuesday, actually. It always surprises me, how the days that reshape and change our lives forever start so ordinary and unassuming. Grams was workin’ two jobs at the time. Her day job was at a cafeteria in a middle school in town, and her afternoon job was helpin’ out at the local grocery store. But she still insisted on cookin’ me homemade meals and being there for my cheerleadin’ gigs and my plays. She was exhausted. And forgetful. All the freakin’ time.”
I took a deep breath, pushing through the details. It was like going uphill in the midst of a snowstorm.
“I had a boyfriend at the time. His name was Tucker. He was a football player. Popular, handsome, comes from a good, known family here in Sheridan. He stayed the night that day. He stayed the night often, but when Grams came home, he’d slip out through my bedroom window, so by the time she woke me up in the morning with waffles, he wasn’t there wrapped around me. She called him The Octopus,” I recalled, a small smile tugging at my lips. “Since the day she found him in my bed, our limbs were tangled together.”
“We can skip the parts where other guys touch you,” West grumbled.
“The window was rusty, so it made a cracklin’ sound I’d gotten used to.”
I felt him nodding, but he didn’t say anything. My chest hurt. Each word that passed through my mouth felt like chewing and swallowing glass.
“I was asleep when it happened. Grams came home, probably late. She fixed herself some gin and tonic, lit a cigarette, and sat downstairs. Finished her drink and went up to her room.
“The worst part was that I heard the crackling sound, after the cigarette ember caught and moved across the couch, but I was so tired, I thought it was the sound of the window when Tucker sneaked out, not knowing that he’d left an hour before Grams came home.”
The memory was fresh and real, the scent of the fire assaulted my nostrils, my lungs filling with black smoke. I could see what happened next vividly behind my eyelids. I opened my eyes in the dark, my heart galloping against West’s chest. He secured his arm over my back, pressing me so deeply against him, I thought I was going to drown in his body.
“I’d only realized what was happenin’ when I started coughin’. I sat up in my bed and looked around. Something was wrong. Smoke rolled from the door crack. The room wasn’t that foggy, but the clouds that seeped in from under the door were dark and hot. I jumped out of bed and called for Grams. Her room was at the end of the hall. I got out of my room and saw that the fire reached the second floor. It was dancin’ across the top stairway. I swear it looked like it was taunting me, West.” My words tripped over one another. A lone, fat tear rolled down my cheek, landing on his bare chest. The second it hit his skin, he groaned, almost like he’d sucked all the pain out of me and felt it in his bones.
His lips brushed the crown of my head. “You don’t have to continue.”
But I wanted to. For the first time, I wanted to get this off of my chest. To cleanse myself of the burden of knowing the truth and keeping it from the world.
I took another breath, soldiering on.
“I ran to Gram’s room and dragged her out. We couldn’t jump out. There were rosebushes directly under her window, and Grams had a bad hip. Besides, she was fast asleep. I shielded her with my body, wrapped her around like a human blanket, then charged back to the hallway. By the time we made it out of her room, the second floor began to collapse, like a stack of cards. A part of the wall warped on top of me. It pressed against my left side. Hard. For a few seconds, I couldn’t move. We were crushed against a wooden plank, and the plank was on fire. I felt my face, my shoulder, my arm meltin’ away. I was sure this was it for me. That I was already dead.”
Another tear fell on his chest. I remembered thinking being dead still had some life to it. I could still hear things and feel pain.
“I fainted. Probably from the adrenaline and pain. What woke me up was Grams. She was wide awake and screamin’ bloody murder, crushed beneath me, but safe in my arms. Her voice kicked me into action. I wanted to save her, no matter the cost, like she’d saved me when my momma …”
Left me at her door.
Ran away with her tweaker friends, never looking back.
“I grabbed Grams with the remainder of my strength and got us both out. I remember what I did when we were finally out of the house. Just when it started folding into itself, like in the movies, the flames dancing so high, they tickled the sky. I rolled on the grass, screamin’. It was damp from dew, and soothed my burnin’ skin. By then, there were a few ambulances and fire trucks parked in front of our door. My downfall had an audience. Everybody came out of their houses to watch. Including Mrs. Drayton, who got out with her three-year-old son, Liam, clutched in her arms. He’d asked her aloud, ‘Mommy, why does Grace smell like toast?’”
I closed my eyes again.
His chest caved beneath me.
Toastie.
That was how the name stuck. Eden Markovic overheard Liam say it, and passed it on to Luke McDonald, who told all his friends, who told their parents, who told everyone at church.
Even when they didn’t say it to my face, they still said it behind my back. I knew every single person in Sheridan heard the tale of how I rolled around on the grass like a dog in heat, shouting like a madwoman as my face melted away in front of an audience.
The ungraceful fall of Grace Shaw, who’d almost slipped from the deadly claws of the screwed-up future her mother had given her. Almost.
“Texas …” The rawness in West’s tone snapped me out of reliving that moment.
I shook my head. I wasn’t finished. “Wanna know the worst part?” I licked the salty tears around my mouth.
“I thought I already did.”
I smiled bitterly. He had no idea.
“When Grams woke up at the hospital, she was very confused. She didn’t remember anything. Not even the part where I got her out of the fire. I don’t think she had dementia back then. I think she just blanked out, or maybe it was the first raindrop in what was going to become a thunderstorm. Either way, I was on life support and unconscious when they asked her what happened …” I stopped, forcing myself not to break. Not to scream.
I wasn’t there when she’d given them her version of the story. I’d been busy fighting for my life as my inner organs failed, a few rooms down from her. “When they asked her what happened, she said her granddaughter must’ve tried smokin’ one of her cigarettes and left it unattended downstairs. She didn’t remember causing the fire. Still doesn’t. She thinks it’s my fault. And … well, I let her think that, because it doesn’t matter. By the time I woke up, everybody made up their minds, and the insurance company accepted her version of things. It was a done deal. The fire was my fault.”
That was the story Grams offered Sheridan, and the townsfolk ate it up.
Grace Shaw, daughter of Courtney Shaw, the infamous, late junkie, played with fire and got burned. After all, she must’ve inherited Momma’s flavor for trouble.
“Really, it was her fault for trying her grandmomma’s cigarettes. What kind of kid does that?”
“An utterly irresponsible one. And it took away her best asset—her beauty!”
“Try only asset. Poor Savannah Shaw can’t catch a break. First, her daughter. Now, her granddaughter. She ain’t nothin’ short of a saint, yet both of ’em broke bad.”
I heard it all.
With my ball cap on, my oversized clothes, and my head down, I was barely recognizable. Completely invisible. And hard to miss when you were out on the town, eager to gossip.
I lived in a town I hated, among people who were suspicious of me, with no chance at escaping, because I needed to take care of my grandmother—who’d started the fire she’d blamed me for.
West cupped my cheeks—even the tainted one—and forced me to look up at him.
I blinked away the tears, holding my breath as I awaited his verdict.
He kissed my forehead, his lips lingering on my skin, then said the most stupid, outrageous, beautiful, awful, touching thing anyone had ever told me.
“I’m grateful that Tuesday went down the way it did.” His voice was scratchy. Thick. “Because the worst day of your life gave me the best version of you.”