Georgie should have been a washing machine on spin cycle having not had a drink. There was no opportunity for her to have any, so that meant …
The relief she wasn’t an alcoholic was overwhelming. But then … then the crushing reality of what that meant sank in. The confusion as to why she’d pretend to be an alcoholic. The hurt. Yeah, it fuckin’ hurt like hell she’d been playing it up like she was. The bottles in her purse. The constant partying and the slurred words and stumbling.
What the fuck was going on? I hadn’t intended on talking to her naked in the shower. I hadn’t intended on opening the shower door. Shit, I hadn’t intended a lot of shit with her.
I wanted to strangle her, and yell and force her to tell me. I had gone into the bathroom to do just that, but then I opened the shower door and saw her. She looked so … vulnerable and fragile. I hated her for whatever bullshit she’d been feeding me, us—everyone. But the protective instinct to hold her and take away the pain I saw swirling within the depths of her eyes …
I crashed. I fuckin’ crashed.
I kissed her and broke down that last wall which had been teetering for years.
My cock had never been so fuckin’ hard, and yet I wasn’t even thinking about sex. I was thinking about her, the girl, the woman, the sassy smartass chick. I wanted to take the pain I felt in her away with my kisses. Carry her to my bed and hold her until she fell asleep in my arms. Wake up to her messy, blue-streaked hair and her smart-ass remarks. Then I wanted the girl I’d lost so long ago. I knew she was still part of Georgie. The sweet, innocent girl who tried to please everyone, who wasn’t broken and filled with so much anger and pain and trying to numb it with all the bullshit.
Jesus. Had I driven her to this? Why would she pretend to be something she wasn’t? I’d wanted her for so long, the lines were now blurred. She was almost an obsession. I knew it, and my men fuckin’ knew it.
The reason I could never have her was so faded into what I wanted and needed that I was uncertain if it was even the real reason anymore. At first, I tried to do what was right and keep my word to Connor, but now … now, right was being washed away. There was no right anymore. Except, what right did I have bringing her into my fucked-up world?
The door creaked and I raised my head. Georgie stood, wearing baggie, grey track pants and a loose pale-pink, V-neck shirt. I saw the transformation. She’d pulled herself together and was all sass now, but I was going to tear her back down again. I needed the truth, and if I didn’t get it then I knew my only other choice—walk away.
“Really, Deck?” She gestured to her clothes.
I felt a pull on the corners of my lips. All this bullshit happening and she could still manage to get me to smile. “That’s all you get.” There was always a purpose to what I did and getting Tyler to bring a bag of sweats and baggy t-shirts was a damn good one. Didn’t really work, though; she still looked fuckin’ hot as hell.
I watched her think it over and it was cute. Yeah, she was ignoring the big picture here. She was debating whether to push the issue or let it ride. Georgie was good at pushing, but she was smart as hell and knew when to shut her mouth, too.
“I feel like ice cream.”
And she was letting it go, probably scared I was going to start in on her.
And I was. I just wasn’t doing it right now.
She cocked her hip and put her hand on it. Fuckin’ track pants were supposed to do nothing for her body and yet … “Strawberry. You have any? I was thinking about putting it all over my body and having you lick it off.” And there was the flirty sass she was hiding behind.
I stared at her for several seconds as my cock swelled just thinking about that image. Her lying on her back, hands above her head, squirming beneath me as I covered her body in ice cream, then inch by inch licked it off until only one place remained—between her thighs. She’d arch up toward me, begging to give her what she wanted yet I’d deny her until she submitted to me completely.
Georgie’s complete and utter submission.
Yeah, I’d get it from her.
I lived by instinct. It drove me, protected me and it was going to be my breaking point. Because Georgie standing there, sober, beautiful and … Jesus, she looked innocent and sweet and sassy and stubborn.
“Or we can do your cock instead. My mouth—”
“Stop.” I needed her to stop before I tossed her on the bed and fucked her.
Trying to cover up her vulnerability wasn’t going to work anymore. I was an expert at getting the truth from people. I knew the tactics, and I was going to use them against her. I’d let her stir. Feel uneasy. Uncertain as to when I’d pounce. And I would pounce and it would be hard. “It’s in the freezer.”
HE HAD MY strawberry ice cream? Deck didn’t eat ice cream, but he had my favorite in his freezer. Two possibilities came to mind: either Deck bought it knowing I loved strawberry ice cream or he was a closet strawberry ice cream eater.
I opened the freezer and there it was. It was like opening a present on Christmas morning for two reasons. One, it was my favorite and two, because Deck had my favorite in his freezer. I found an ice cream scoop in the second drawer down, and I placed it and the container on the counter just as Deck walked into the kitchen. He was wearing his jeans low on his hips and a plain, black t-shirt that showed off every contour and accentuated his tatts. He came in close … real close, then reached past me into the cupboard and pulled out a bowl. Then I heard the scattering of utensils and the drawer banged shut.