BEAST NEXT DOOR
(Beast Brothers Volume 1)
by
Chance Valentine
SMASHWORDS EDITION
* * * * *
PUBLISHED BY:
Pomegranate Girl on Smashwords
Beast Next Door
(Beast Brothers Volume 1)
Copyright © 2010 by Chance Valentine
Cover art modified and licensed from stock photo © istockphoto/Geber86 and free stock © and courtesy of sxc.hu/theswedish.
Use of licensed images is for illustrative purposes only and does not imply the model's endorsement of or participation in any or similar activities contained in this work of fiction.
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*****
BEAST NEXT DOOR
*****
Scrabbling naked over rooftops and darting between shadows as he tracked the drift of clouds across the moon’s full face, Cruz Medina came at last to a stop. Across from him was a rundown building, its brick façade chipped and crumbling. Steel framed cathedral windows ran across the third floor, all but one shut. Through the open window, he could hear a sultry torch song playing in the background. Dropping flat against the corrugated metal roof on his side of the alley, Cruz closed his eyes and listened.
The low throb of a cello was matched by a woman’s voice. Every note was music to fuck by--exactly the kind of music Tamsyn listened to when she was alone, touching herself and thinking of him. Feeling his own low throb, he inched closer to the edge of the roof, stirring up the odor of rust and sweat from his climb. He lifted his head, searching for the first faint stirring of her scent as a cool breeze played over his bare flesh.
Cruz jerked back, eyes narrowing, and emitted a low warning growl. He could sense Tamsyn, but only barely. Her gingery sweetness was buried beneath something else--something masculine and drenched in the stench of meth. He inched to his left, leaving the safety of the shadows so that he could see through her open window.
Tamsyn was sitting in an overstuffed chair that faced the window at an angle, showing Cruz she was every bit as naked as he. Dark brown hair fell in loose waves against her shoulders. Her hands were on her full breasts, fingers tense as she worked the achingly thick nipples.
The sight of her lush body naked as she toyed with herself would have fueled a month’s worth of wet dreams--if she’d been alone. Instead, a dark shadow was prone on the ottoman as a head bobbed between Tamsyn’s legs.
Bracing himself, Cruz drew another deep breath, reading the scent signature of her lover.
Lonnie Woodrow.
Between Tamsyn’s soft thighs.
Lonnie’s tongue--
The sound of metal groaning as he bent the edge of the roof checked the impulses warring inside Cruz. He quashed the urge to leap from the roof, scale the building up to the open window and rip Lonnie’s throat out.
Tamsyn was her own woman. She certainly did not belong to Cruz Medina. He had gone out of his way to make sure of that, pushing her away every time they ran into one another. He pretended every day he wasn’t crazy in love with her or couldn’t smell the subtle changes in her body each time she realized he was around. Every meeting between them was an exercise of his shitting on a friendship that stretched back to high school.
So, no, she was not his--even if she did come, alone in her bedroom and calling his name.
The music stopped and Cruz lifted his head, ears pricking forward. Tamsyn had her foot against Lonnie’s shoulder and was resolutely pushing the little fucker away.
“C’mon, baby,” Lonnie whined. “You said three songs. That was only two.”
“It could be two CDs, you still couldn’t make me come.” Dropping her foot to the ottoman, she gave a hard shove.
Cruz heard the sound of the spindly furniture legs scraping against century-old floorboards. He watched as Tamsyn stood, her breasts swinging forward as she bent to retrieve Lonnie’s jacket and threw it at the tweaker.
“Baby--”
Tamsyn shook a finger at him. “Never call me baby.”
“Then let me be your baby.” Lonnie reached for the nearest breast. Tamsyn brought her fist down on his wrist. Lonnie jerked his hand back, holding it against his chest as he rubbed at the sore flesh. “You said three songs. If I could make you come in three songs you'd fuck me."
Tamsyn pointed at her apartment door. “You want to walk down those stairs or get thrown down them?”
She watched, stony-eyed, as Lonnie left. Then she bolted the door and returned to the chair. She pulled her legs close, wrapped her arms around them and rested her chin on her knees. Her lips moved in a whisper Cruz strained to hear.
***
Damn you, Cruz Medina.
Tamsyn’s curse followed him down from the roof and into the alley. Cruz hit the ground on all fours, his pale naked skin now hidden beneath two thick coats of fur. The stealth of his padded paws as he stalked toward the building’s exit was ruined by the clicking of razor sharp nails against the asphalt and the steady growl in his throat. Hearing footsteps from the building’s stairway, he slid alongside a dumpster and waited.
Lonnie slammed through the door a few seconds later, the words “Frigid bitch” bursting from his throat. Stopping beneath the door’s exterior light, he patted his jacket before he reached into a pocket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. Cigarette lit, Lonnie stepped into the alley.
Cruz let the man clear three of the old brick buildings before he started the hunt in earnest. He was within a few feet before Lonnie passed the fifth building. Cruz caught his attention with a raspy snarl that jiggered up Lonnie’s spine and sent him pinwheeling in Cruz’s direction.
“N-n-nice doggie.”
Crouched in the shadows, Cruz dipped his head far enough forward that light reflected off his golden eyes and white fangs. Lonnie stood, his hand out as he made direct eye contact. It would have been a stupid enough move if he had been facing down a stray dog. But a twenty-three-year old, hundred-eighty pound wolf shifter? Still snarling, Cruz took a step forward, and then another, more of his shifter form becoming visible.
Lonnie shot down the alley in a straight line, legs pumping wildly as he ignored the side alleys and cross streets. Cruz would give him a little slack, wait until Lonnie peered back at the blur of fangs and fur and then lunge forward, doubling his speed until he was within snapping distance of Lonnie’s Nike-clad feet. Cruz chased him like that for seven or eight blocks until Lonnie stumbled, cutting his hand on a piece of glass.
The blood in the air overtook the lingering scent of Tamsyn on Lonnie’s clothes. Lonnie’s steps became more erratic, Cruz’s more purposeful. Coming up on the next intersection between alleys, Cruz leapt, jaws open.
A cannonball of black fur and gleaming white teeth body-checked Cruz, sent him flying eight feet to slam against the wall of the nearest building. He twisted, offering a warning snap as words filtered into his head.
Haven’t I warned you? Look before you leap, little brother.
Still snarling, Cruz regained his footing. Lowering his snout, he pushed his brother Dominic’s furry shoulder with the flat of his head. The gesture earned him a snap and a bloody ear.
And more gently, when Cruz refused to yield any ground, Would you destroy her world--her life?
Always it came back to that with his big brother--the warning that no one had been there to give Dominic when he had fallen in love with a human female.
An image of Lonnie between Tamsyn’s legs flashed through Cruz’s mind. The sight was pushed out by his brother's vision of a charred building and the trail of long black hair from a covered coroner’s gurney. Lyrra, Dominic’s woman.
Let Tamsyn live her life and make her own mistakes. Don’t be one of them.
Dropping his head, Cruz took his first step towards home--the small, two-bedroom apartment above the garage Dominic owned and they both worked at. Back in his bedroom, door shut and locked, Cruz reached beneath his bed and pulled out his pencils and drawing pad. Tamsyn’s shape quickly took form on the paper. Only this time, the head dipping down to lovingly savor her taste was his.
***
Tamsyn was speed eating a plate of scrambled eggs between customers and taking notes for her anatomy class when Ed nodded over her shoulder at the diner’s front door. Grabbing her order sheet and pen, she turned just in time to see Cruz sliding into the booth closest to the door. His hair was short at the back, but a forward fall of black bangs blocked her view of his silver gray eyes. She saw, instead, the slash of a strong nose and full lips. A sleeveless shirt showed off his muscular shoulders and sculpted arms. She recognized the green tee, one he had screen printed on his own with a werewolf reaching for a moon shaped like a biohazard sign.
Seeing the image, she sighed. He only wore the shirt to piss off his brother. Dom didn’t seem to like Cruz’s artwork any more than he liked Tamsyn.
“He better--”
She shot her boss a hard look and picked up the coffee pot. “He won’t.” At the table, she turned Cruz’s cup over and filled it. “You should eat someplace else. The food’s shit.”
Looking down at the cup, he smiled. “So’s the service.” He took a sip of the steaming hot coffee before glancing up at her. “But the coffee’s the best on the entire block.”
“Ed doesn’t think it’s the coffee you’re after.” Holding pen to paper, she waited for him to order. She could feel Ed’s eyes boring into the spot between her shoulder blades as he likely remembered the last time Cruz had been in the diner. A customer --some jerk catching a ball game with his buddies--had gotten all grab ass with her until Cruz had tossed him like a rag doll through the diner’s plate glass window. Dismissing the memory, she tapped her pen against the order pad. “Look, you want today’s omelet special? Ham’s fresh.”
He shrugged. “What’s Lonnie think?”
Her pen froze mid-air. “About the ham?”
“About me coming round here.” Opening the menu, he pointed instead to the Eggs Benedict. “Way he’s talking, he fucked you last night. That true?”
Tamsyn colored, felt the warm flare of embarrassment against her cheeks and throat, but stared him in the eyes. “No.”
“But you did let him go down on you.” This time there was no question in his tone.
She blinked and her gaze dropped to the tip of his nose. “No.”
“So he’s lying when he says you let him go down on you, that you told him if he could make you come--”
“Fuck you, Cruz. Like you give a shit.” She crumpled the order sheet up and shoved it in her apron pocket before taking his coffee cup away. “And stay out of the diner. You’re going to get me fired.”
Heart slamming in her chest, she turned her back on him and returned to her text book, eyes blurring with tears as she tried to study for her evening exam. Words swam as she picked up a highlighter and ran it across the text, “Maternal peripheral testosterone levels during the first half of pregnancy…”
“He’s gone.” Ed’s voice cut through the tears, his tone softened now that Cruz had left without breaking the diner in half. “Looks like he left a tip.”
He always left too much, like it was some kind of apology for being an ass, for running hot and cold on her while he made sure no man got within twenty feet of her. She shrugged. She didn’t want it, didn’t want anything he had to offer. “Mim can bus the table.”
That rat bastard Lonnie, on the other hand, would be bleeding before she was finished with him. Swearing under her breath, she highlighted more text about peak levels at nine to eleven weeks and then the door to the diner was opening again, followed by the high-pitched sound of wired kids and the exhausted bleating of their parents.
***
Back at the garage, Dominic had banished Cruz to the underside of an old Ford Ranchero. He took his punishment smiling. Dom and Tamsyn might both be pissed as hell at him, but the scene at the diner, her knowing that he knew, her thinking that word would always get back to him would put a check on any future reckless deals like the one she had made with Lonnie and it would forever and always shut the door on that tweaker’s frequent attempts to get into Tamsyn’s pants.
“Quit grinning.”
“Yes, Boss.” He slid up under the Ranchero and tapped lightly against a rust spot on the manifold with his socket wrench. Damn thing was ready to crack.
“Boss?” Dominic’s voice dripped with sarcasm. “You seem to be forgetting that a lot lately.”
Cruz ignored his big brother, his mind drifting to last night’s chase as he worked. He would seek to capture the rush of it with his pencils and inks, just as he had captured Tamsyn’s soft curves and proud breasts. Unlike the image of Tamsyn, however, he would spin Lonnie’s image off into a story, another chapter in the Beast Brothers’ comic. And this time there would be no last minute reprieve for Woodrow.
Dominic kicked Cruz’s exposed shoe. “You’re whistling that damn little theme song of yours.”
Cruz immediately stopped whistling and focused his attention on a stripped nut as he tried to keep Dominic out of his head. It was easier out of wolf form. In wolf form, they might as well have been one mind driven by two very different wills.
“Please tell me you haven't been posting any more pictures.”
Cruz slid a little further under the Ranchero.
“Damn it, Manito. It’s too risky.” Dominic put his size twelve down on the edge of the mechanic’s creeper and tried to pull Cruz out from under the Ranchero.
Cruz wrapped both hands around the manifold’s rusted form. “Keeps me sane, Dom.”
“And when someone recognizes it for more than a comic?”
He shrugged the suggestion off. “You worry too much.” It had been over eleven years since Dominic had experienced his change and six years since Cruz had his first taste of moon madness at the age of seventeen. Not in all those years, back alleys and empty rooftops had they ever had the slightest whiff that there was someone else that shared their…
Curse or gift?
Cruz stopped working the nut. It was a gift most of the time, except for when he ached for Tamsyn or when that cloud of worry crossed Dom’s gaze.
“It’s bad enough anyone like us could smell you from a mile away anytime you get near her--”
“You saying I stink?” Cruz maneuvered beneath the Ranchero until he could take a deep whiff of his pits.
“It’s just something…strong. For about six months now.”
Six months--Cruz knew the exact night. Six months ago was the first night he’d been unsatisfied with just passing beneath her window to check if she had made it home okay from classes. It had been the first night he’d climbed up to the rooftop and lingered through her shower, through her dropping the towels onto her bedroom floor and crawling up onto bed, naked. It had also been the first night he’d watched her touching herself. He had nearly cummed in his pants watching her.
“Are you paying attention, Manito?” Dominic pulled on the creeper again, managing to drag Cruz halfway out. “These comics--they’re accessible all over the world!”
“It’s just you and me, bro.” Cruz pushed and pulled his way back to the nut. “Ain’t nothing else like the Beast Brothers out there in the whole wide world. Now go find me a replacement for the manifold and quit fretting like someone’s abuelita.”
Grumbling, Dominic retreated into the small glass office tucked in the far corner of the garage. Finding a part for a car that was almost forty years old wasn’t a quick task. He was working the laptop’s keyboard and mouse--tap, tap, tap, click. Minutes would pass and then he would pick up the phone, only to find out that the used parts dealer hadn’t updated his online inventory or had the wrong part listed. Then it was back to the sound of tap, tap, click, and the soft, subversive whistle of the Beast Brothers' theme song.
Until the smell of Lonnie Woodrow preceded the tweaker’s presence by half a block. The stink was a mix of sweat still seeped in last night’s fear, cheap beer and freshly smoked crystal meth that filtered through the Ranchero’s oil and engine grease.
Dom was on the phone again. Before Dom could even scent Lonnie, Cruz was up and on the sidewalk in front of the garage. Behind him, the office door opened.
“Manito?”
Dominic’s question was answered a second later by Woodrow’s appearance. With an open palm, Lonnie tried giving Cruz’s shoulder a hard push, frowning when he couldn’t force Cruz to take a step back.
“What kinda shit you spreading about me, Medina?”
“Nothing you haven’t been spreading yourself,” Cruz answered, guessing there was no chance in hell Lonnie had actually kept his mouth shut about last night. He’d have bragged or bitched to somebody.
“That’s my business.” Lonnie gave another unsuccessful shove “Not yours.”
“I’m not letting my best friend hang out with a meth head.” Cruz watched Lonnie’s face sag at the accusation. “What, you thought you were keeping it a secret?”
Lonnie jabbed a finger in Cruz’s chest. “Shut up, you don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about, Medina!”
“Wrong, I can smell it on you.”
A malevolent, smart ass grin broke across Lonnie’s face. “Fuck that. All you smell on me is Tamsyn’s puss--”
The cartilage in Lonnie’s nose snapped, the bright burst of blood following almost immediately. Dominic caught Cruz’s arm as Cruz pulled back to launch a second blow. Dominic captured Cruz’s other arm, trapping him in a full nelson, with both of his arms up under Cruz’s and his hands locked behind his little brother’s neck. Cruz tried to wrap his legs around Lonnie but the tweaker was folding fast to the ground, his hand pressed hard to his nose to stop the blood and pain.
Dominic dragged Cruz to the door leading from the garage bay up to the apartment.
“Let go, Dom. Fucking let go!”
Dominic threw the door open, using his extra two inches of height and thirty pounds of weight to force Cruz into the narrow stairwell.
“I’d level his ass, too, but we can’t afford the cops.” He threw the switch on the garage door’s hydraulics, keeping one eye on Lonnie’s recovering figure while he straight-armed Cruz to keep him from busting back into the room. “It isn’t worth--”
“Tamsyn is worth it.”
Dominic glanced at Cruz to see a cold fire burning in his brother’s eyes.
Out on the street, Lonnie screamed at them. “You’ll get yours, Medina. Both of you goddamned fuckers!”
Sure that the garage door was down too low for Lonnie to slide under, Dominic raised his hand, wrapped it around Cruz’s throat and forced him against the wall. “You, in a prison cell, for eight to twenty years because some street trash wants to hook up with a girl you like. How long you think you can go without changing? A month? Maybe two? After that, you’ll rip your fucking guts out with your own hands!”
Purpling from the choke hold, Cruz still fought to get free, pushing at Dom with his arms and legs.
Dom let go, moving like lightning to drop low and hit his shoulder hard against Cruz’s stomach, instantly doubling Cruz over. Dom wrapped his arms around Cruz’s legs and lifted, staggering as he found his balance and climbed the stairs.
Flung over Dom’s back, Cruz grabbed hold of the railing.
“Don’t make me use the bear spray on your ass, Manito!” Dominic gave his upper torso a hard twisting jerk, breaking Cruz’s hold on the railing and slamming Cruz against the opposite wall.
Upstairs, furniture was overturned as they cut a wild path to Cruz’s bedroom door. Dominic tossed him onto the bed and quickly stepped back. He raised his hand before Cruz could charge him. “You know I still have some.”
Cruz settled back against the wall, ass planted on the mattress, a fistful of the bed’s quilt in each hand as he glared at his older brother.
Dominic shook his head. “If we have to start all over once more, you’ll never see Tamsyn again.”
Silence, hard and angry, and then the fire in Cruz’s gaze flickered and died.
***
Dominic finished closing the garage. Back upstairs he started the computer and righted the furniture they’d overturned. Checking the garage’s email account, he found a confirmation on a manifold in stock for the Ranchero and called the vehicle’s owner before placing the order. Printing out a copy of the invoice, he spotted a corner of paper peeking from the scanner. End page of Beast Brothers, issue six.
“Cruz!”
Cruz came out, shoes dragging along the carpet. He stopped a few feet past his bedroom door and leaned against the wall, one thumb hooked in a belt loop and the other hand shoved deep in his jeans pocket.
Dom held up the picture. “Where are you posting these now?”
“M-not.”
“Bullshit, little brother. You wouldn’t scan it if you weren’t posting it somewhere.” He opened up the web browser and started putting in keywords in the search engine. “I'll find it.”
He looked up to find a cocky grin on Cruz’s face. He pushed the keyboard to the side. “Right, just show me.”
“First, admit it.”
“Fine. I won’t find it.”
“Because…”
“Because you know your shit.”
Cruz leaned over Dominic’s shoulder and clicked on what looked like a blank space on the desktop. Screens opened and closed in rapid succession, all too fast for Dominic to read what they said.
“So you’re masking your visits and your uploads?”
“Yeah.” He’d explained it a dozen times over. Cruz spun on his heels and plopped on the couch, his gaze wary as he watched Dominic click through the images on the site and then the comments.
Dominic grunted. “Woof, woof, make me your bitch? Are these girls serious?”
Cruz offered a flat, “Don’t know. Not interested. None of them are Tam.”
“You IM or chat?”
“Just the serious visitors, mostly other artists. The chat is secure, too, Dom.”
“What about this one, Bad Moon Rising. It says, ‘I’m just like the weres in Beast Brothers and I can prove it.’”
“Just someone role playing. Get ‘em all the time.” Cruz rolled off the couch, grabbed the keyboard and typed a reply. “Then prove it, dude.”
Cruz picked up the picture he’d left in the scanner. “We done?”
The downstairs’ buzzer sounded. Dominic rose slowly from the computer chair and jerked his thumb in the direction of Cruz’s bedroom.
“If it’s the cops…”
“Yeah.” He stripped his t-shirt off as he went. “Just you and Rover at home.” In his room, he pulled his shoes and socks off, unbuttoned his jeans. He listened for the sound of footsteps on the stairs and the casual warning of addressing a cop as “Officer” that Dominic would give if their visitor was a cop. It was a trick they'd pulled before, too many times.
But, instead of some cop Lonnie had called, Cruz heard Tamsyn arguing her way past Dom.
“He’s not here, Tam.” This was followed by the echo of Dominic in Cruz’s head. Stay put.
Smiling, Cruz let his pants drop.
Don’t even think about it, Cruz.
Ignoring the command, Cruz nosed the door open. Tamsyn had traded her waitress uniform in for school clothes--sexy hip hugging jeans and a light green tank top underneath a jeans jacket. She let her leather bag crammed full of books and notepads slide to the floor.
“He’s here, he’s always here.”
Dom circled her until he was blocking the path to Cruz’s bedroom door. “I didn’t want him here if the cops showed up.”
“Fine, I’ll wait.” Tamsyn took a step back, stumbling as her eyes went wide. “Jesus, who’s been feeding that dog steroids!”
Dom turned, swearing. His arm shot out, pointing at the bedroom door. “Inside!”
“What the hell? When did you guys get a dog?”
“Dog sitting for a friend.” He pointed at the door. “Back.”
“You don’t have any friends. Just you and Cruz. No room for anyone else.”
“Fine, belongs to the owner of the car I’m working on. He’s paying us an extra fifty for the week while he’s on vacation.”
Tamsyn dropped to the ground. “It’s huge. Is it friendly?” Not waiting for an answer, she clapped her hands gently together. When Cruz met her gaze, she gave a small, delighted laugh. “Its eyes look like gold glitter! C’mere, boy.”
Cruz stepped up close to Tamsyn and licked her ear. She threw her arms around his neck and then ran her fingers along his back. “Ooh, I wish I had a coat like this. Look at the blue streaks!”
He licked the line of her jaw, scented the warm spice of her skin.
“You can’t wait here, Tamsyn.” Dominic wrapped his hand around Cruz’s muzzle and gave it a hard shake. “Bad dog!”
Cruz faked a yelp.
“Dom!” She rubbed Cruz’s head, stroked his ears. Her breasts bounced as she smoothed her hands along his back. “Poor baby. Did he hurt you?”
Cruz ran his tongue along his teeth and then yelped in earnest as Dominic grabbed him by the scruff of the neck and dragged him back to the bedroom. “You really have to go.”
He shook Dom’s grip off. Walk her home, bro.
Dominic picked up Tamsyn’s bag and started walking toward the door. “I’ll tell Cruz you stopped by.”
It’s late. Lonnie’s out there pissed. Walk. Her. Home.
Cruz could feel Dominic’s probing, followed by a sigh of relent.
You’re lucky I don’t have a leash, Manito.
***
Cruz waited until he heard Dominic’s key leave the dead bolt and then he counted to twenty before starting to dress. He dressed quickly but without rushing. Dominic would stick to the streets with Tamsyn. He wouldn’t lead her through alleys or take short cuts. He’d pass businesses that were still open--bars and restaurants with people going in and out. They’d walk at Tamsyn’s pace. That left Cruz with plenty of time to beat the two of them back to her apartment.
Even with Dom bitching at him inside his head as soon as he had picked up Cruz’s intent.
Cruz waited outside her building, casually leaning with his back against the brick wall. Dom looked ready to tackle him again. Tamsyn looked…
Beautiful…
And only a fraction less pissed at Cruz than Dominic was.
She stood in front of him, hands on her hips, head angled slightly up so she could glare at him. “You’ve got some nerve, that shit you pulled today.”
Dominic gently edged her out of the way until he was chest-to-chest with Cruz. He put his hands on Cruz’s shoulders, the grip looking far more casual than it felt. “You need to come home.”
You need to stay out of my head.
“He’s not going anywhere until I’ve talked to him.” She stepped in close to both men, near enough that her soft body brushed Cruz and Dominic. Her hip against Dominic’s thigh, her arm against Cruz’s.
Cruz could smell their scents mingling. His woman’s, Dominic’s. Something dangerously possessively boiled up and he placed his palm against Dominic’s chest, forcing his big brother to take a step back. Out of his space--out of hers.
“I’m staying. Go home.”
And stay the hell out of my head, Dom. I mean it.
The two men stared at each other for one, two, three heart beats--and then Dominic blinked. I can protect you from anything but yourself.
Dominic’s gaze flicked to Tamsyn and then he shook his head, spun on his heels and headed back down the street.
Tamsyn pushed the door to her building open. “I don’t know which one of you is the bigger dick.”
He followed mute up the stairs, eyes locked on the swing of her ass, still tasting the salt of her skin on his tongue. She wanted a fight after the way he’d behaved today. Not what he had in mind. He waited until she had her key in the door and then he put his hands on her hips.
She froze. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
“Open the door and I’ll tell you.”
When she didn’t move, he took the keys from her and finished unlocking the door, his other hand still on her hip. She retreated inside, turning beneath his touch until she faced him. He shut the door with his foot, let the keys fall to the floor so that he could have both hands on her again.
She pushed at his chest. “You’ve got some fucking nerve, Medina.”
“You’re mad. I understand.” He slid the bag off her shoulder, ran his hand up under the jeans jacket, his palm flat against the center of her back as he coaxed her closer. He remembered the last time he’d gotten so close to her--her senior prom two years ago. Dom had relented, allowing Cruz to accompany her, even paying for both their outfits.
He cinched her closer, felt the curve of her lower stomach against his cock. He dropped his head, his lips lightly brushing against her neck.
“You’re a bastard, Cruz. You think you can…” She stopped, throat clenching to strangle the words, and shoulder slugged him.
He shushed the broken sounds coming from her. He kissed her ear and then the high rise of her cheek bone. Reaching down, he untucked her shirt, ran his hand up her back once more, fingers stroking the bare flesh.
Her body assaulted his senses. The heat emanating from her, the sweet and secret smells, the deep breathing, the beat of her heart loud in his ears. He kissed along her throat, just under her chin in the hollow where her pulse throbbed.
She was clutching his shirt, her body immobile except for the rhythmic push of her breasts against his chest as she breathed in.
“Leave,” she choked out.
“We both want me to stay.” He slid a finger under her waist band and traced the curve of her hip round front to the top button of her jeans. He thumbed it open and grasped the pull on her zipper. “I want the same deal you offered Lonnie. Three songs.”
“Bastard!” Tamsyn boxed his ear and then knotted her fingers in his hair so he couldn’t pull away.
Not that he had any intention of doing so.
He unzipped her slowly and then smoothed both hands into her jeans, pushed them down over her hips. He captured her hands, eased them down to her sides and slid the jacket off. Then he ran his hands back up her waist, pushing her shirt higher while his head dipped down to press a kiss against the exposed top of her breasts.