Crashed (Entangled Indulgence)(26)

Her coveralls were tied around her waist, and the black tank she wore clung to her curves. There was grease smeared on her forearms, and her hair was pulled back, exposing her neck. She’d never looked sexier.

He didn’t know how much longer he could hold off taking her, sinking inside her, owning her. But in the end, restraint was all he had, the only weapon in his arsenal. Since he couldn’t say in words how he felt, he was determined to show her. Show her just how important she was to him. That he gave her pleasure because it made him happy to do so, and not because he wanted something from her in return, despite the deal they’d made.

Deep down, she knew what this was, knew he would never hurt his sisters like that. He was sure of it. The only explanation for her going along with his proposition was that she wanted him, too. For now, if she chose to believe it was only lust, he’d take it. She couldn’t fool herself forever, and when she came to the realization of her true feelings for him, he’d be there to hold her down when she tried to run scared. Because she would.

After losing her parents, the only people she’d let herself get truly close to were his sisters. He saw the way Alex checked on them, worried about them. She was terrified she’d lose them one day, terrified she’d end up on her own again.

After kissing his sisters good-bye, he stopped by the car Alex was working on. “Can you come to my place tonight?”

She didn’t look at him. “Are we going out?”

“For drinks, nothing too formal. I’ll have something for you to wear when you get to my place.”

“Right.”

“I want you to stay tonight, Alex. No slinking off when I’m asleep.”

“Fine. Whatever.” She carried on working, and dammit, he wanted to touch her, pull her into his arms and kiss all the stress and worry away.

He leaned in. “I want to bury my tongue inside you again. Feel you come against my mouth. Don’t deny me what I want, Alex. I’ll starve without another taste of you.”

She sucked in a shaky breath, and he gave in to his desire to touch her, running his fingers down her arm. “See you at seven.”

Then he left her, hopefully aching for him as much as he was for her.





Chapter Eight

“So, who are we meeting tonight?” Alex tried her best to sound bored but was nervous as hell. She hated walking into any situation blind, always had. She’d been forced to do that every time she was moved on to another foster home, new people, new everything. Now she actively avoided surprise situations wherever possible. In her experience, surprises sucked ass. Always.

“Some business associates. I would’ve rather given this one a miss, but they’re persistent.” He smirked. “They want money, so prepare yourself. What you’re about to witness may induce nausea.”

“What’s it for?”

“A charity fund-raiser. There’ll be an event as well, one I’ll be required to attend. We go through this every year. They insist I come out for drinks, so they can convince me to part with my money. I, of course, agree.” His fingers flexed around her thigh, which he hadn’t let go of since they got in the car. “Though this is the first time I’ve donated to this particular charity.”

“So who gets this money?”

A shadow moved across his face, and his jaw tightened. “This one’s for heart disease research and ensuring as many health care workers as possible get the specialty training they need. Specifically, emergency care providers.”

He rattled it off like he was reading from a brochure, but she saw the emotion in his face, the change in his posture. Without analyzing her actions, she placed her hand over his and gave it a squeeze. Nothing she could say would ease the pain of losing his father. Jacob West had died after suffering a massive heart attack, taking him from them suddenly and denying them a chance to say good-bye. “Good cause,” she said into the silence.

“Yeah.”

God, she couldn’t bear to see him suffer this way. She would give anything to go back in time and give him the chance to heal the wounds between him and his old man. “So how many charities do you donate to, hotshot?”

His lips lifted on one side. “A couple.”

She turned to face him. “Huh, so you’re not hard and stingy after all.”

He laughed, dark and low. “Oh, I’m hard…”

She slapped her hand over his mouth and shot a look to the front seat. “I’m sure Martin could go the rest of his life not knowing how hard you are,” she said under her breath.

“I’m hard”—he grabbed her wrist when she tried to cover his mouth again—“on those that deserve it. Otherwise I’m a pushover.” He arched a brow, that grin getting bigger. “You have a dirty mind, Miss Franco.” And before she could pull her hand away, he placed it over the massive bulge straining the front of his very nice, very expensive trousers. “And this is what you do to me.”