Wound Up (14 page)

“It was a long, extraordinarily harsh winter, yes, but to get this worked up over thumb wrestling?” Levi muttered, shaking his head. “People should get out more.”

“On three,” a stranger called. “One...two...three!”

Justin watched Levi’s strategy. Composed of brute strength, his obvious intent was to pin Justin’s thumb and hold it there to another count of three. Justin toyed with him a little, teasing, letting Levi almost capture his thumb and then he struck. Levi broke the hold and the crowd cheered and groaned in equal measure. Letting Levi build his confidence back to dangerously high levels, Justin struck again, this time relaxing his hand for a fraction of a second and retightening it, depressing Levi’s thumb so it was bent at a painful angle.

“One...two...three!” the crowd shouted before a rousing cheer went up.

Levi dug out his wallet and handed Grace a five-dollar bill before tipping an imaginary hat in her direction. “How could you be sure he’d win?”

“I wasn’t.” Grace shrugged. “But he has bigger hands and is unbelievably skilled with them.” She winked at Levi even as the other man roared with laughter. “Besides, when you threw in the kiss? I was sure he’d want to collect.”

“Too right.” He glanced at Levi. “She’s off-limits.”

“Man, I wouldn’t have kissed her.”

“Something wrong with me?” Grace demanded, crossing her arms under her breasts.

“Not a damn thing, sweetheart.” Levi grew serious and Justin worried about what the man might say.

He should have known to trust him.

Cupping Grace’s jaw, he kissed her gently on the forehead. “You’re the professor’s. That much is obvious. And while I might be the bigger of the two of us, I’m not about to pit myself against him where you’re involved. He’d snap me in half in order to preserve your honor.”

Justin turned Grace to face him. “I believe a kiss from you is part of the prize pack.”

“Well, a kiss and a beer.” She shrugged. “Plus I’ll split my five bucks with you.”

“Keep the five bucks and buy me a beer this weekend. For now? I just want my kiss.”

The way she eyed him so suspiciously reminded him that his goal was to earn her trust, to prove he was more than a one-night stand that culminated in a few poorly chosen words. He wanted her to be assured that he wanted
her
, not sex. Well, not only sex.

Bending low, he hoisted her over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry, slapping her ass when she squealed in protest.

“Put me down right now, Justin Maxwell!”

“Hey, isn’t that the guy from Beaux Hommes?” a woman nearby asked.

Just for tonight, they could all go to hell—all the fans, the regulars who knew him, the bouncers who eyed him suspiciously, his friends who were watching with renewed interest. Tonight was about Grace. He was going to show her exactly what he was made of.

“Someone sacrifice their keys,” he said, holding out a hand and wiggling his fingers. “We’ll be back in a little while.”

“Take my truck.” Cass dug out her keys and tossed them to him.

Justin moved toward the door and the crowd parted like he was Moses headed for the Promised Land.

He considered the woman in his arms and decided that, in a way, he was.

14

“I
CAN
’
T
BREATHE
,” Grace protested, pushing up from Justin’s lower back.

“Yikes, woman.
Kidneys.
A man has
kidneys
.”

“Well, put me down.”

“Nope.” He adjusted his hold, putting more pressure on her hips rather than the soft part of her belly. “I’d rather piss blood.”

“Pretty picture.” She watched his ass flex as he walked, trying not to think about the people gaping at them as they passed. A wicked thought crowded her mind. Letting herself down on her hips, she arched her back, curled her fingers and dug them into Justin’s sides. “Oomph!”

He jumped, knocking the wind out of her and twisting his torso wildly to get away from her hands. “Cut it out, Grace!” he shouted, laughing.

“
Ovaries
, Justin. A woman has
ovaries
.”

He carried her through the doors to the parking lot. Cool air heavy with mist settled around her, tracing invisible fingers around her waist where her shirt had lifted and exposed skin. She shivered.

“Cass’s car should be nearby. Look for a dark truck that says
Preservations
on the side.”

“All I can see is your butt. Don’t get me wrong—it’s a great view. But that leaves me pretty useless when it comes to helping you find the truck, unless you happen to be walking away from it.”

He snorted, pulling her forward and casually hooking one arm behind her knees and the other around her shoulders.

Something decidedly feminine in her fluttered at being handled so easily. Good Lord, she could be such a girl sometimes.

“There.” Justin shifted her just enough that he could beep the gleaming truck open. “She didn’t mention she’d bought a new truck.”

“Nice, though I’m more an Audi A8-S girl.”

“An import girl after my own heart.” He grinned, shifting her again, this time to open the door and carefully set her down so she was seated but facing out. He saw her settled before gently maneuvering his way in between her thighs.

Flustered, she glanced up into his face. “What are we doing out here?”

Work-roughened fingertips traced down her neck and settled over her erratic heartbeat. “Nothing.”

“Clearly our definitions of
nothing
are different.” She leaned against the passenger seat. “Awful lot of work to go through to collect on a kiss.”

“Not really.” He shrugged, broad shoulders briefly blocking the streetlight. “Besides, I’m saving the kiss.”

Her guard went up. “For what?”

“Such skepticism, Grace. Just saving it.”

“Then why the big to-do about carrying me out of the bar?”

“Did it bug you?”

“No.” The admission proved harder than it should have.

“Why not?”

“I suppose every woman wants to feel a little feminine now and again, and strong men do that to us.” She pushed at her hair and fought a shiver.

“Jeez. I’m sorry. I didn’t even think about you being cold. Watch your fingers,” he warned before slamming the truck door.

He jogged around to the driver’s side and hopped in, cranked the engine and punched up the heat. “Should have heated seats,” he murmured, tracing his fingers over the dashboard. “Aha!”

“Why should it have heated seats?”

Justin punched a pair of buttons and the seats started to warm. “Cass has busted her tail to carve out a place in the engineering world, and heated seats are her way of saying she’s made it.”

Grace grinned. “The more I learn about Cass, the more I find I could quickly grow fond of her.”

Justin answered her grin with one of his own. “Eric feels the same way.”

“How long have they been together?”

Justin leaned his seat back and rested his hands on his stomach. “Oh, about six months. They’re good for each other,” he added softly. “It’s nice to see him happy.”

Twisting in her seat, Grace tucked her legs up under her and leaned against the passenger door. Watching Justin like this, still and relaxed, was a surprising treat. She hadn’t realized how he was always in motion. Not until he stopped. Now, with the light glinting off his hair, his capable hands at rest over his abs and his eyes closed, he appeared relaxed in a way she hadn’t witnessed, even at the diner.

“If you don’t stop staring at me, I’m going to develop a complex.” His smooth voice slid over her, through her, leaving goose bumps in its wake.

“Yeah? Well, lucky for you, I’m qualified to diagnose all manner of complexes.” She leaned forward, propping her forearms on the console. “So tell me, Dr. Maxwell, what’s the root of your complex? Your past? Your present? What you want in your future? Hopes? Dreams? Disappointments?”

He rolled his head toward her but didn’t open his eyes. “You should be required to license your voice.”

“What? Why?”

“Dangerously seductive weapon, that.” Then he was quiet for so long she wondered if he’d actually dozed off. Then he answered. “Come here, Grace.”

She didn’t think—she simply crawled into his arms after he folded the console back and reached for her. The warmth of his skin bled through her shirt. A deep sigh escaped her. “You feel good.”

“Ditto.” He brushed his lips over the crown of her head. “Why were you upset earlier tonight?”

She fought not to stiffen in his arms and failed. Miserably. “As of tonight, I’m homeless.”

“Excuse me?” His voice was low and calm, yet hard enough to sound dangerous in the darkness.

Fine tremors started in her hands, spreading up her arms to coalesce in her shoulders, forming knotted masses of tension. “I had to leave my mom’s house.”

His voice dropped lower. “Why?”

Why?
“Because I pulled the unforgivable and ruined her life, too.”

“Exactly how did you ruin her life?” If she’d thought his voice hard before, it was now absolutely dangerous, filled with darkness and fury.

Her throat tightened and she wheezed the answer. “I was born.”

“Oh, hell, Grace. I’m sorry I ever said you might ruin my life.”

She shook her head and tried to swallow.

“You’re amazing, the best thing that’s ever happened to me, and you’re safe with me, baby.” His voice, now even lower, sounded as if it were being scraped over gravel, raw and pained.

That heartfelt message, coming on the heels of fleeing her mother’s house and the friendships she’d encountered in the bar—it was all too much. Pushing out of his arms, she scrambled to the passenger door and out of the truck. Her breath sawed in and out of her lungs. Tears burned her eyes, her vision blurring as she fought to simply claim enough air to keep from passing out. She wanted to run, but had absolutely nowhere to go. The realization was a crippling blow. Every effort to draw a breath failed. Black dots danced through her vision and she thought she might pass out for the first time in her life.

A car door slammed. Feet crunched on gravel, coming closer.

She had to save herself from this mess, had to find a way to get through the next nine days and not collapse. Her only choice was the women’s shelter or the YMC—

Strong arms wordlessly hauled her into a hard body.

She turned into the embrace that was more and more familiar, found the promised safety in those arms, and the permission to simply be. No pressure, no expectations, no need to fight to survive, no fear of rejection. He was her safe harbor. She clung to him as she was battered by wave after wave of emotion.

Whispered words broke through the battlements of her madness, words that soothed her fears. She struggled to hear him and not to give in to the grief that threatened to rip her apart. In the end, she didn’t have a choice.

The first sob was wrenched from the very heart of her, the sound more a broken groan than a wail. Tears streamed down her face as she sagged in those strong arms, arms that embraced her, supported her.

Hot tears scalded her cheeks, and her whole body shook with their release.

“Let it go, baby. I’ve got you.”

Those last three words untied the final knot of hesitation. She held on and did just as he’d advised.

She let it go.

* * *

J
USTIN
HAD
NO
CLUE
how they’d gone from thumb wrestling for beer and kisses thirty minutes ago to Grace having an emotional breakdown in his arms. Several things were certain, though. First, Grace came from a background of hardship and heartache, and he wanted to show her she deserved so much more.

Second, he wanted to kill Grace’s mother. An age-old need to do violence rushed through his veins, a kind of drug he’d long forgotten but still recognized and, at the moment, craved. He’d fought for years to master his emotions, was famed for his control, and now that control broke. He shook with the urge to cause that woman unspeakable harm. It thrilled him as much as it scared him. He could destroy her and none would be the wiser.

But for Grace, he would stem his violence, would control himself and refuse to fall into that vast blackness that called to him, his own personal siren’s song. Grace was worth the sacrifice he’d make to do the right thing, not the thing he most wanted to do.

Third, he was going to be her safety and security. No matter the cost, he would provide a safe haven for her. Period. He was so grateful the arms she’d fled to had been his. She was stronger than she believed herself to be, and smart enough to fend for herself. But she’d be stronger with him by her side. Only him. He would love her harder than anyone had ever been loved.

Everything inside him stilled. There it was again, that word.
Love.
What he’d thought he’d known of it, what he’d anticipated it would feel like—he threw it all out and held on to what he now understood love was. It was this woman in his arms, his own amazing Grace.

Murmuring words of encouragement, words to make her understand she was safe and cherished and loved, he gently moved her toward the pickup and searched with one hand until he found the tailgate latch. Letting it down, he eased his way onto the tailgate and pulled her with him, letting her curl up in his lap.

“Don’t let go.” She hiccupped the whispered plea between harsh breaths.

“Never, Grace,” he whispered into her hair. “Never.”

“I have nowhere to go.” Her voice betrayed her broken spirit, and it slayed him as effectively as if she’d run him through with a sword.

He stroked her hair, thinking through his next words carefully. “You have me, baby. I want to ask you to do me a huge favor, one I understand goes against everything you’ve been taught.”

She buried her face in his shirt and gave a pained laugh. “At this point? Anything.”

The first note of hope rang through him. “I’m going to hold you to that. I’m going to go inside, call a cab and we’re going back to my place. It’s...rough, but it’s safe and secure.”

“Why would you do that for me?”

He lifted her chin and waited until she looked up at him. “Because I care about you. I didn’t start to live until you came into the club. Before then, I breathed, my heart beat, my pulse registered. I was alive but I wasn’t living. Not until you.”

He’d been waiting, always waiting, for life to get on with it. He’d worked so hard for so long, and he’d always hoped there was more to it than eighty-hour workweeks, sleepless nights cramming for exams and crashing on his mother’s sofa. And then Grace had sat in his class. The first time she’d smiled at him, the first time she’d challenged him, that’s when his life started. And over the past three days, she’d shown him the waiting had been worth it.

He’d fallen in love.

He leaned forward, never closing his eyes, never breaking away from her wide-eyed stare, and gently laid his lips to hers. This was a kiss meant to heal old hurts and build new foundations. It was a moment between them, a covenant of truth that would hold and never be forgotten.

Her lips were soft, her response tentative.

He persisted, never pushing but never giving up the ground he’d made. She had to know he could be strong enough for the two of them.

When she finally began to respond, he kept things slow, almost lazy, despite the burning need he had to lay her down and love her senseless. There would be time for that. For now? This was the most he would do. He’d show her in every way he could imagine that he loved her madly, passionately, thoroughly and wholly. And when the moment was right, when she’d found her footing again, he’d give her the words.

Breaking away, he cupped her face. “If that doesn’t convey the fact you didn’t ruin my life, you’ll just have to stick around until I can find a way to better explain it.”

Ageless eyes peered at him, the sheen of tears she wasn’t quite done shedding reflecting in the lamplight. “I could get used to that.”

He gave a short nod. “I want you to wait here. I’ll be back in just a second, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Don’t leave.” He had this fear her first instinct would be to run the minute he was gone. “Please.”

“I promise I’ll wait.” Her gaze dropped to her hands twisting in her lap. “Sorry I fell apart. I normally handle life better than this.”

“Hey. No one can take years of verbal abuse and come out unscathed. You should know that, Grace.”

“Right. I just...” She bit the inside of her cheek. “I thought I had more control over it until she blew up at me tonight.”

“You haven’t lived at home while you were in school, right?”

She shook her head. “No. I wouldn’t have survived. I lived with my friend, Meg, at a place she co-opted from a guy, a doctor, who’d been working abroad. The guy came home early, no notice, so we were in the apartment one night and out the next. My mom’s place was the cheapest option, and I figured I could manage it for two weeks.”

One statement stuck out blatantly. “You say you wouldn’t have survived. Why?”

“No therapy, okay?”

He reached over and took her hands in his, giving them a gentle squeeze. “No therapy. I’m just trying to put the pieces together.”

“My mom has a house on Aurora Boulevard, commonly known as Drive-By Boulevard.”

His stomach pitched, and he squeezed her hands a little too hard before realizing what he was doing. Relaxing his grip, he lifted her fingers to his mouth and kissed each knuckle. “I’m sorry you had to grow up in such a bad environment.”