Property of Drex (Book 1)(52)

“Never had any good to get beaten out,” he says, sounding so honest that it hurts.

It’s a lie, though. He’s always careful with me, always gentle even when he’s rough. He’s a tall guy with more muscle than it appears, yet he’s always taken care with my body. I’ve never even had a bruise, even though sometimes I could have sworn I would. The times he’s the roughest are my favorites.

And he can’t stand the thought of someone else hurting me. He’s good enough, even if he can’t see it. Because he’s the only reason I’m still me instead of a shell of myself.

Every day, he lets me feel safer to be a little more of myself. In fact, he seems to enjoy it.

“This is pretty good,” I tell him, barely stopping myself from waxing poetic nonsense aloud.

He laughs lightly, but it’s a weighted sound. “Yeah,” he mumbles, sounding reluctant to admit it. “It is.”

I start kissing a trail down his chest, and I’m rewarded with a rumble from his chest before he takes a sharp breath. My panties are still hanging mid-thigh, forgotten.

He doesn’t let me get to where I want to be, though. He’s too busy pulling me up, and he starts kissing my neck as my hips slide down. Slowly, ever so slowly, he pushes me down on him, and my body stretches around him.

I moan, reveling in the feel of it all. Maybe we can spend a few weeks just getting lost in each other.





Chapter 24



EVE



For two weeks, I’ve been in Drex’s home, and we’ve spent most of our time in the bed. Not that I’m complaining. Being with Drex in his home is… surprisingly nice. Easy. It’s like we’ve found a groove, and everything is natural.

Not to mention, nothing illegal is getting done in the bedroom. At least I don’t think so. It makes it less stressful and almost… normal.

We haven’t even left for groceries. Apparently there’s a little grocery fairy by the name of Maria who keeps his house stocked but never gets seen. I’m starting to think she’s a myth.

My lips strum across a semi-long scar on his side, and he makes a low noise in his throat while continuing to trace lines on my back.

“Chicks dig scars,” he says, smirking down at me.

Frowning, I shake my head. “They aren’t sexy to me.”

When his face falls, I immediately add, “I mean, you’re still sexy, but the scars are sad.”

He runs his hand through my hair lazily, while keeping one hand behind his head, angling up so he can see me better.

“How so?”

I trace the scar I was kissing with my finger, while shrugging and staring at it, taking my eyes off him.

“Because it’s a reminder that you live a dangerous life. It lowers your life expectancy.”

A throaty laughter surprises me, and I look up to see him grinning down at me now.

“You must really like me then if you’re worried about how long I’m going to live.”

Rolling my eyes, I prop up on him a little better.

“Why do you do it? Why take the risks? Surely you have enough money by now to just get out, if Dad stole so much from you. I’m assuming you got it back since you’re not the ones who killed him.”

Thank God for that.

He shrugs, looking up at the ceiling. “What we do isn’t as high-risk as the drug dealers and arms dealers. It used to be some seriously shady shit before we changed things up. I like the gray area. I’m never going to be a guy who sits at a cubicle and lives the American Dream life, Eve. It is what it is.”

For two weeks, we’ve discussed mostly my life—every detail of it. I think he’s trying to trust me, which is improvement. I want to know about him without knowing everything.

“Danger excites you, though. So I think I need to keep doing what I’m doing just to keep you wet,” he adds, winking at me as heat blooms across my chest.

I don’t argue that first part, because I’m twisted and all, but I do wish he wasn’t doing anything dangerous. Whatever that is. It’s a constant reminder that this is temporary, because I’m not cut out for this life. I also haven’t seen or heard about any long-term commitments between the other guys and women.

“I can think of something I’d rather you did with your mouth than kiss old scars,” he says suggestively.

My lips twitch, and I start moving lower, kissing my way down his stomach. His smile falters, and his eyes grow hooded as I lick the lines of that perfect V between his hips.

But before I can work my mouth down to where he wants it, there’s a loud, obnoxious banging at the front door. I squeal, he curses, and the banging persists.

“Who the fuck is it?” Drex demands, lifting me off him as he grabs his jeans and starts stabbing his legs into them.