Defending Allye Read online

  Their skin slapped together as he thrust in and out, her dress thrown up over her back, and he held on to it with one hand as the other kept hold of her hip. His pants and briefs had been shoved down only as far as they needed to be to get his cock out and inside her.

  Gray looked down where they were joined, and he felt himself spurt a bit of precome as he saw how slick his bare cock was with her juices. He wasn’t wearing a condom, and he couldn’t even be bothered to worry about it. If he got her pregnant, so be it. He was going to marry her as soon as she was ready, and with or without child, she was his.

  “Please,” Allye moaned as her hands scrambled on the hood for purchase.

  “You want to come, kitten?” he asked, not slowing his thrusts.

  “Yes.”

  “Then make yourself come,” he ordered.

  One of her hands immediately disappeared under her, and Gray could feel her fingers along his length as he pulled out. She didn’t comment on his lack of condom but immediately used their slickness to wet her fingers before bringing them to her clit. He pressed back inside her even as she stuck her butt out farther and urgently stroked, bringing herself to orgasm within seconds.

  “Gray, I . . .”

  “Yes, kitten. Let go. I got ya.”

  And she did. Her legs shook, and her body clenched down on his cock as he drove it in and out of her a little slower as she orgasmed. Just as she finished, Gray felt his own release shoot up from his balls and out his cock.

  The feeling of coming deep inside her was like nothing he’d ever experienced before. He hadn’t thought making love without a condom would feel all that different, but he was wrong. So very wrong. The warmth around his dick increased tenfold, and he could already imagine the thousands, millions, of sperm from his come swimming their way up her channel to her womb.

  He smiled and shifted so he was pressed even tighter to her ass, not wanting even one drop to escape before it had a chance to do its thing.

  Allye sighed under him and shifted. Gray knew he needed to move, but he really didn’t want to. Making a mental note to fuck her again as soon as possible, in a bed next time so he could fall asleep with his cock still inside her, Gray eased out of her body.

  He watched in fascination as his come immediately began to leak from inside her.

  “Gray?” she asked, turning her head to look at him. “I need to get inside and clean up.”

  Knowing she was right, Gray pulled his underwear and pants up, but didn’t button them. He then turned Allye, not bothering to pull down her dress, and picked her up. He carried her into the house and up the stairs.

  He put her on her feet in the bathroom and kneeled down to unbuckle her high heels. He felt her fingers in his hair as he concentrated on the complicated fastenings. Some people might think doing this for her wasn’t manly, but as far as he was concerned, taking care of her in this little way was one of the many manly things he did for her on a daily basis. And he wanted to do it. Wanted to make her happy. Comfortable. Wanted to make sure she was fed, and was never thirsty. It was his honor, and he’d happily spend the rest of his life taking off her shoes for her at the end of every day.

  “Shower?” he asked as he stood and turned her around to unzip her dress.

  “Bath, I think,” she answered.

  Running his hand down her spine, he pushed the dress over her hips, and it fell in a puddle at their feet. Looking down, Gray saw the small scar on the back of her leg where the doctor had removed the tracking device. He’d wanted to leave it in, but Allye had refused, saying she wasn’t ever going to put herself in a situation like the one she’d been in back in California, and thus the tracker wasn’t necessary.

  Gray wanted to protest that with his job as a Mountain Mercenary, she could always be at risk from someone wanting revenge against him or Rex, but in the end, he didn’t want to upset her. Meat was working on improving the design anyway so it wasn’t as painful to remove and was more effective no matter where the wearer was . . . like underground in a concrete bunker.

  He kissed her shoulder and leaned over to turn on the water in the tub. “Take your time, kitten. I’ll start dinner. Veggie lasagna all right?”

  Allye turned then and looped her arms around his neck. “Perfect. I love you, Gray. Thank you for coming today. It meant a lot.”

  “Anytime. Anything that’s important to you is important to me.”

  “Are we going to see your mom tomorrow?”

  He wrinkled his nose. “Yeah. She said she’s coming over around eleven. And bringing her friends. Is that all right?”

  “Absolutely. I love your mom.”

  Gray couldn’t help the silly grin he knew was on his face. For a woman who’d once said that no moms ever liked her, she sure was being proven wrong now. And that reminded him. “Shall we talk about karma again?” he asked.

  She rolled her eyes. “No.”

  “Sure? I mean, I’m willing to give you all sorts of examples of how karma has worked out for you.”

  “Go,” she ordered, turning him toward the door and giving him a small push.

  Gray went, but he spun around before he left. “I love you, kitten.”

  Her face went soft. “I love you too. Now get.”

  He got.

  Ronan Cross, known as Ro to his friends, was concentrating on the suspension of the late-model Ford pickup he was working on when he smelled the most delicious thing he’d ever smelled in his life.

  He was used to the smell of oil, body odor, or gasoline when he was at work in his small garage. But the smell of lilacs was as out of place as a plate of bacon at a vegetarian retreat.

  He climbed out from under the truck and stared at the woman standing in the bay, looking nervous and unsure. She was tall for a woman, maybe half a foot shorter than his six-three. But she had the kind of curves Ro was partial to. Marilyn Monroe curves, he liked to call them. Wide hips, big tits, a waist he could grab on to, and legs that would likely smother him if he ever got between them.

  She was wearing a short skirt, one that she felt awkward in, if the way she kept tugging at the hem was any indication. Her blouse was low cut and wasn’t the right style for her body type at all. It was a size too small, and the buttons strained to stay closed, leaving small gaps down the front of her body.

  Her hair was black and fell past her shoulders. It was absolutely straight, as if she’d taken an iron to it. The strands almost looked as if they had blue highlights when she shifted in the sunlight, and her eyes were an odd shade of purple. She had to be wearing contacts to make them that color, but Ro didn’t care. Her makeup was heavy, her lipstick dark.

  It had been so long since he’d had the desire to take a woman home, he was surprised at the immediate thought of how those painted lips would look while wrapped around his cock.

  He was being rude, staring at her like he was, but Ro couldn’t seem to bring himself out of the weird trance he’d gone into the second he’d smelled whatever lotion or perfume she was wearing.

  Finally, she broke the tense silence by asking, “Do you have a phone I can use?”

  Ro blinked. He couldn’t remember the last time anyone had asked to use his phone. Almost everyone had cell phones these days.

  And the more he thought about it, the more uneasy he got. He looked past the woman, out to the area in front of his shop, and didn’t see a car.

  Walking slowly so he didn’t spook her, Ro went past the woman and looked around. His shop was located off the beaten path, and there was only a small sign at the end of his driveway indicating there was even a business. There was no sign of a vehicle, and he had no idea how the woman had found him, much less gotten there without a car.

  “Where’s your car, love?” he asked.

  She blinked, looked surprised, then blurted out, “You’re English.”

  “Was, yeah,” he said. “Now I’m American. Your car?”

  “Oh. Uh . . . I-I don’t have one,” she stammered.

  “Ho
w’d you get here, then?” Ro asked, taking a step toward her, not missing the way she took an equal step backward, away from him. Her eyes wouldn’t meet his, and he knew she was about to lie.

  “A friend dropped me off, but it’s the wrong address. I accidentally left my purse in her car and need to call her to come pick me back up.”

  Ro eyed her for a long minute. It was true that she wasn’t carrying a purse, and the shoes on her feet weren’t appropriate for walking long distances. But she was lying to him about the friend. He knew she was.

  If he’d seen her on the street in downtown Colorado Springs, he would’ve immediately thought she was a prostitute, but she wasn’t downtown. She was standing in the middle of his out-of-the-way garage, shifting uncomfortably and not meeting his eyes. She was no whore. He’d bet his life on it.

  “I have a phone you can use,” he said softly, not wanting to scare her.

  “Thank you,” she said, breathing a sigh of relief. She almost looked like she was going to cry for a moment, but she turned her head away and gazed around his shop.

  Ro grabbed a rag from a shelf and tried to rub some of the grease off his hands. He reached into his back pocket and took out his cell phone. It was warm from his body heat. He unlocked it and held it out to the woman in front of him.

  “Here you go.”

  “Thanks.” She held the phone as if she wasn’t sure what to do next.

  “Go on, love. I unlocked it for you. Just hit the little phone icon, and call whoever you wish.”

  She nodded and looked at the phone in her hand for a moment before seeming to make a decision. Then she slowly dialed a number and looked down at the floor while she waited for someone to answer.

  Ro knew the polite thing to do would be to give her space. But call him curious, he couldn’t leave without knowing more about her situation, because it wasn’t sitting well with him at all. People just didn’t show up at his place by accident.

  “Hi, Abbie? It’s me, Chloe. I need a ride.” There was a pause while she listened to whoever was on the other end of the line. “I know.” Another pause. “I didn’t mean to. Will you come and get me or what?” A longer pause, as if the mysterious Abbie was really speaking her mind. “I know,” she repeated, with a bit of resentment. “Will you come get me or not?”

  She looked up at Ro then and said, “I need the address.”

  Ro gave it to her willingly and watched as she repeated it to whoever Abbie was, and then thanked her before hanging up.

  She gave him a weak smile and held out his phone to him. He took it and made sure to brush her fingers with his own as he did. The blush on her face was adorably cute and made her outfit seem all the more out of place.

  “You want something to drink while you’re waiting?” he asked.

  “Oh no, thank you. I don’t want to be a bother. I’ll just go wait out there,” she said, gesturing to the open bay door with her thumb.

  “It’s not a bother,” Ro insisted.

  “Just go back to work doing . . . whatever. I’m good. I appreciate the use of your phone.” And with that, she turned to walk out.

  Ro could’ve let her go, if that was that. He might’ve been intrigued and might’ve wondered what was up with the pretty woman who’d randomly wandered into his auto-body shop out of the blue.

  But the second she turned and he saw the huge bruise on her back, it sealed both their fates.

  The blouse she had on was white and sheer. He could easily see the outline of the black bra she had on underneath—and the black-and-blue mark on her back was just as noticeable.

  He moved before his brain had even fully registered what he was seeing. He stopped her with a hand around her biceps. “You’re hurt,” he said in a low, pissed-off tone.

  She looked up at him in surprise. When she saw where his gaze was, she tried to twist her arm out of his grip. “I’m fine.”

  “Show me.”

  “What?”

  “Show me,” Ro repeated.

  “I don’t think—”

  “I’m not going to hurt you,” he said evenly. “I just want to make sure you don’t need medical attention.”

  “I don’t,” she insisted. She’d stopped trying to get away from him and stood stock-still.

  “Please. I won’t touch you, I just want to see how badly you’re injured.”

  The woman frowned. “You’re not going to let this go, are you?”

  “No.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I have a feeling you didn’t get that from falling into something. Show me, and I’ll let it drop.”

  He didn’t think she was going to, but after a short stare-down, she defiantly lifted her shirt in the back just enough for him to see the mark on her right side.

  It was above where her kidneys were. It had to have hurt like a son of a bitch, had to still hurt, and Ro knew there was only one thing that made a mark that size and shape. A fist.

  She dropped her shirt, but he didn’t release her arm. “What’s your name?” he asked, steel in his tone.

  “Why?” she asked, trying to get him to let go once more. Her other hand came up, and she tried to pry his fingers off her arm. “You’re hurting me. Let go.”

  “I’m not hurting you,” Ro replied, knowing his grip was tight, but not bruisingly so. If he was going to help this woman, he needed to know her name. “What’s your name?”

  “What’s yours?” she sassed back.

  “Ronan Cross. You can call me Ro. Your turn.”

  She stared at him for a beat, then said softly, “Chloe Harris.”

  The name sounded familiar for some reason, but it took him a second to put two and two together. “Fuck. Tell me you’re not married to Leon Harris.”

  Leon Harris was one of the heads of the local branch of La Cosa Nostra, the Mafia, which was headquartered up in Denver. Rex knew about the group, of course, but stayed out of their way because they mainly dealt with counterfeiting, insider trading, extortion, and other corrupt practices—not crimes against women. The group was made up of several major families in the Denver area and a few lower-level families. They all worked together and had one another’s backs.

  They weren’t Mafia like the old-school gangster films romanticized. But they were just as dangerous. Recently, they’d branched out and invited a few old and connected families in Colorado Springs to join their ranks. The Harris family being one of them.

  Ro recalled seeing the patriarch, Leon Harris, on television once. He had hair as black as midnight and was tall. Chloe reminded him an awful lot of that asshole.

  “I’m not married to Leon Harris,” Chloe recited dutifully.

  “Thank fuck,” Ro breathed out in relief.

  “He’s my brother,” she said quietly.

  Ro just stared at her. “He do this to you?” he asked, indicating the bruise on her back.

  “Look, it’s none of your business,” she said, struggling against his hold once again.

  Ro let her go. It wasn’t as if she were going anywhere. The mysterious Abbie wasn’t there yet, and she couldn’t exactly go walking off when there wasn’t anywhere to go.

  “Talk to me,” Ro growled.

  Chloe crossed her arms, making the gaps in her blouse close slightly, and shook her head. “I don’t know you. All I wanted was to use your phone.”

  “And all I want, love, is to make sure you’re safe, happy, and healthy. And by the looks of that bruise, and the fact you’re standing in my shop with no car anywhere, you aren’t any of the three.”

  They had another slight staring contest then, with Ro glaring at her with his own arms crossed, and her glaring right back. She licked her lips and finally looked away from him uneasily.

  “I’m not going to hurt you,” Ro said. “My mum would kick my arse if I ever did anything to hurt a woman.”

  “I’m okay. I’m moving out soon.”

  “Christ,” Ro said. “You live in the same house as him?”

  “He’s my
brother,” Chloe said. “So yeah, I do.”

  Ro reached into his back pocket. The chain attached to his belt loop jingled when he pulled out his wallet. He extracted a business card. It had his logo and RO’S AUTO BODY across the top. He held it out to her.

  She looked at the card like it was a snake that would bite her if she reached for it.

  Stepping toward her, Ro picked up her hand and put the card in her palm, wrapping her fingers around it. “That’s my card. You need anything, and I mean anything, you call me. I’ll help you out no matter what time it is. Got it?”

  “Why?” she whispered, not looking down at the card.

  “Because you need it. And you smell better than anyone I’ve ever smelled in my life.”

  She blinked at that, then smiled. “You’re offering to help me because of the way I smell?”

  “Look around, love. You think anything in this place smells good? It doesn’t. So yeah, when a breath of fresh air comes into my shop, smelling and looking like you, with a bloody bruise on her back that I know was put there by a man? You better believe I’m offering to help her.”

  “Oh, well . . . thank you.”

  “Don’t thank me unless you intend to use that,” Ro said, motioning to the card with a nod.

  “I don’t think I’ll need it, but I’ll call if something comes up.”

  Ro knew it was the best he was going to get right then.

  He saw a car pull into his driveway and approach them. It was a Mercedes. This year’s model, if he wasn’t mistaken. The woman scowled at him and Chloe as she stopped. She didn’t bother to get out.

  “That’s Abbie. I need to go,” she said as she stepped backward, away from him.

  He saw her tuck his business card into a small pocket on the front of her shirt, while her back was still toward the woman who’d arrived to pick her up.

  “Thank you,” she said softly, then turned to walk to the Mercedes.

  Ro kept his eyes on the driver, just as she kept her eyes on him. The second that Chloe entered the car, the woman turned and began to berate her. Ro could tell she was yelling at Chloe by the way she gestured to him with her hand and the way her brows were drawn down in anger or consternation.