“Simple. I squeeze my thighs around him.”
A very slow, very deliberate, and very wily and sexy smile broadened Brax Jenkins’ intriguing face. He laced his fingers together, and leaned forward. “Is that so, Gracie?” His voice, accent, was low, raspy. Ridiculously sexy. Totally fascinating.
Nutcracker!
I thought it, unable to help myself, then I smothered a laugh with my hand. Even though I felt the heat rising in my skin from my blunder and Brax’s insinuation, just saying the safe word in my head helped. I didn’t feel caged in or threatened. All I could feel was laughter bubbling up inside of me, all stemmed from that ridiculous conversation with Tessa, and the safe word. My eyes began to water, and Brax just looked at me, cocked his head, and grinned.
“Did I say something funny, Gracie?” he asked.
The waiter and our food arrived with perfect timing. Even knowing what Brax was doing—which was some serious flirting—it didn’t really seem to matter now. It was like there was a separate part of my brain that wanted to do exactly what it wanted to do. Without my consent. And I think whatever it was, it made me lose all coherent sensibility. Despite the past year, Brax seemed to have the ability to make me drop my guard. No wonder so many women fell at his feet. The boy had serious talent. But I had a safe word. And it had worked. And I wasn’t going to be one of his throwbacks. Not me.
“Do you know every time you get embarrassed, your skin turns pink?” Brax said. His lips curled around the fried oyster he’d popped into his mouth.
I tamped down my embarrassment, took a few bites, and downed some tea. “Do you realize you have no filter whatsoever?”
His brow lifted. “Pure skill.” He dug into his chowder.
I nodded. “Really?” Inclining my head toward his hands, I asked the question that had been burning in my mind. “What do those mean?”
Something in Brax’s eyes shifted, hazed, and I immediately regretted asking the question. With one thumb, he grazed the tattooed knuckles of the opposite hand. He shrugged, and lifted his profound stare to mine. “I don’t know. I was just a kid, Gracie. A stupid kid thinking I had something to prove.”
It was then and there I glimpsed a vulnerability I hadn’t really noticed before in Brax’s confident mannerisms. I couldn’t begin to put a finger on it, but it was there, evident, still the same. Strangely enough, it almost reminded me of … mine. I wanted to ask more, but something kept it inside of me. Those light blue eyes, rimmed by dark lashes, regarded me closely, almost as if anticipating I’d ask something. Anything. He waited, and held my gaze so long, I almost couldn’t look away.
Before I could say anything, though, two guys slid into the booth with us. The one who sat beside me draped his arm on the bench rest behind my head. He regarded me with a hooded gaze.
“Bro, what’s up?” the one beside Brax said.
I looked at Brax, and he bumped knuckles with the guy. The flirtatious look in Brax’s eyes faded, replaced with something else. Arrogance? “Kenny, Jake,” he said. He inclined his head toward me. “Olivia Beaumont.”
I gave each one a quick glance. “Hi,” I said to both. My internal human measuring device turned on, and immediately I could tell both guys made me feel cagey.
The one guy beside me, Kenny, lifted my braid. “We’re Brax’s frat brothers. He’s just too rude to tell you that part. So, Olivia Beaumont. Where’re you from?”
I shot a fast look at Brax, and I was surprised to see his eyes fastened on Kenny’s hand—on my braid.
“Are all the girls from your hometown cute little things with freckles and braids?” Jake asked.
Kenny actually lifted my braid to his nose and sniffed it. “Or just you?”
Trapped by the small space of the booth, panic rose in my throat. Broken memories from the year before slammed into me, and pure fear and reaction shrugged over my shoulders like a sopping wet blanket. I reared my elbow back to ram him in the gut, but Brax’s words stopped me.
“Get your fuckin’ hand outta her hair, Kenny, before I break your fuckin’ face against this table here,” Brax said. His feral eyes flashed fury. He didn’t blink, breathe, or flinch. He just stared fire at Kenny. It was the most intense, intimidating look I’d ever seen. On anyone. And every one of my brothers had a fierce look when they wanted. Brax’s voice was stone-cold dead serious. Lethal and chilling.
It shocked me. My earlier reservations returned full force. Yes. Brax had demons. He hid them well, but not well enough. I was looking at them right now, and they were staring back. Hard.
Kenny dropped my braid fast, scooted away from me, and held up his hands in defense. “Whoa, bro, take it easy,” he said. “What the hell’s gotten into you?” Kenny coughed. “Yeah, me and Jake was just riding by and saw your bike, thought we’d see what you were doing.” He looked at me. “Sorry, Olivia. Just playin’ around is all.”
“No problem,” I answered quietly, although I didn’t believe him, not for a second. My heart pounded, and I struggled to keep them from noticing my breath coming faster. When I looked back at Brax, his eyes were still locked onto Kenny, angry and furious. Why, I wondered?
Kenny’s lip curled in a not-so-attractive grin at Brax. “All right, we’ll leave you two lovebirds alone. Jenks, I’ll let Collins know we, uh,” he glanced at me, “bumped into you two. Jake, let’s bounce.”
They both slid from the booth, and Jake glanced at Brax. “Kick ass pitchin’ today, bro. You smoked the hell out of it.”
“Yeah, I know,” Brax said, still eyeing Kenny.
Without another word, Jake and Kenny left.
Brax’s gaze stared them down until they were out of sight.
“What was that all about?” I asked calmly. I hope Brax hadn’t noticed the sheer dread Kenny had caused in me; I didn’t want to make a big deal about it. That would only raise questions, and I wasn’t willing to give any answers. So I thought making light of it all and hiding the fact that I’d almost had a panic attack was the best route. “I thought he was going to start chewing on my hair.” I laughed softly, forced, and it felt as fake as it actually was. “I was almost compelled to use my safe word.”
For a second, Brax didn’t respond. Those ghostly eyes were hardened, terrifying. Then, he took a visible deep breath in, closed his eyes briefly, and when they opened again and focused on me, they were clear, bright, and most of the fury had disappeared. But it was still there, the anger. Simmering in those odd blue orbs. “Kenny’s a fuckin’ prick, Gracie. Excuse my French, but he is.”
Before I thought about it, I’d reached across the table and grazed his knuckles with my fingertips. “It’s okay. Really. Forget about it.”
Just that fast, Brax’s eyes went from clear to smoky gray-blue. The cocky sly half-grin was back. He looked down at my fingers, then back to me. “What’s your safe word?”
I lowered my hand and met his gaze square-on. “It wouldn’t be a safe word if I told you, would it?”
A slow, wolfish smirk curled his sexy lips up in the corners. “You touch me like that again, Gracie Beaumont, and you’re gonna need a helluva lot more than a safe word.” He leaned back and studied me for several uncomfortable moments, and his eyes never left mine, never wavered, not once. “Now how ’bout you tell me why you got that wild ass look in your eye when Kenny grabbed your hair?”
6. Trouble
As those severe blue eyes examined me, awaiting my response, I realized something extremely important about Brax. His perception level was way higher than I’d thought. He’d seemed so occupied in staring down his obnoxious frat brother that I hadn’t noticed the depth of intensity in which he simultaneously studied me. That relentless scrutiny focused, measured, weighed as he stared, and while those ethereal eyes promoted his peculiar looks I immediately knew one thing for absolute sure. Brax Jenkins was not an empty-headed, popular, tattooed man slut of a baseball jock. He was exceptionally clever. Intelligent. I could see it in his watchful, alert gaze.
But I was smart, too, and wasn’t about to reveal my secrets to a virtual stranger. No matter how oddly drawn to him I was. Maybe, with a little luck, my apprehension could be successfully masked, because the less of my horrific senior year in high school anyone knew, the better. Pasting a smile to my face, I straightened in the booth, fixed a confident stare to my gaze and answered his question. “I told you, I’m not like the typical giggly partying flirtatious college girls you usually meet. I just don’t like strange guys crowding my personal space, is all.”
Brax studied me for several seconds, his eyes fixed and concentrating on mine. I knew he was trying to figure me out, and I hoped with all mighty hope he failed. Finally, he ducked his head, as if trying to get a better view from my chin up. “All right, Gracie,” he said in an even, low tone. Then his crooked mouth lifted at the corner, puckering the skin around the scar on his cheek. It made him look fierce and sexy at the same time. He leaned toward me, eyes never leaving mine. “I crowded you.”
Although I made a conscious effort not to fidget under Brax’s scrutiny, I couldn’t help the flush of fire that raced up my neck and pooled in my cheeks. The heat pouring through the pores of my skin actually stung, so I knew I was probably beet red. And by the way Brax’s grin lifted a little higher at the corner, he hadn’t missed it, either. Enjoying it a little too much, I’d even say. I did my best to shrug off my reaction, and drew a calming breath in, nice and slow. “I guess I just don’t feel threatened by you,” I smiled, “since we’re only friends and all.” Stranger yet, I actually didn’t feel threatened.
Brax’s smile didn’t fade. “And all, huh?”
I lifted a shoulder. “Just a figure of speech.” I shifted in my booth seat, tucking my foot under my bottom, determined to shift gears from myself. “So do you have any brothers or sisters?”
Something faint, ghostly, crossed Brax’s features. He didn’t look away from me, but I saw the change, and it reminded me of a fast storm brewing in the ocean. Bright and sunny one second, clouds swirling overhead the next. He rapped his fingertips against the table between us, making a thudding sound. “Three brothers, one sister,” he said. Brotha. Sista. Then, the confident arrogance was back, and his eyes cleared. “They’re older, doing their own thing.” His jutted his chin. “I’m what you’d call the black sheep of the family.”
My brows knitted as I gave him a puzzled look. “Not too black if you’ve earned yourself a baseball scholarship. Besides. You may be charming but you can’t charm your way through academics.” I pursed my lips. “I’m starting to think you’re really just a geek beneath a tattooed gangster disguise.” A seriously phenomenal disguise, too, I thought, as my stare drifted from one piece of inked body art to the next.
Brax’s amused look made his eyes dance. “You think I look like a gangster, Gracie?” Gangsta.
My gaze raked over his inked knuckles, then I looked up and shrugged. “Yeah, a little.”
“And yet you climbed on the back of my bike and left campus.” Brax rubbed his chin with his thumb. “With nothing more than your little purse and a safe word. Interesting.” He inclined his head. “Unless you’re packin’.”
I couldn’t help but grin. “I said you looked like a gangster. Not that I thought you were one.”
Brax’s white teeth flashed behind his lips. “Looks can be deceiving, Gracie. Remember that.”
From his tattoos, dark hair, and vaporous blue eyes, to the silvery scars that marred his skin, I absolutely wondered about that.
“Here’s your check, guys,” our waiter said. He was walking toward me and slowed just long enough to slip the plastic holder with the receipt onto the table. Just as he leaned, the platter of drinks he was carrying tipped, too, and a tall glass fell. A gush of ice and soda splashed over the front of my top and soaked my skin.
I gasped and jumped back in surprise.
“Oh, hell!” the waiter said. “Damn, I’m sorry darlin’! Let me get you a towel.”
“I got it, man,” Brax said, eased out of the booth and grabbed a handful of napkins from the waiter’s stand. He handed them to me and embarrassment flooded my face once more as I patted my sticky wet chest. My blouse clung to my skin.
“Thanks,” I told Brax. I glanced around until I found the restrooms. “I’ll just go rinse off a little.” Scooting from the booth, my eyes darted to Brax, and laughter danced in his eyes. I skirted the bar and down the hallway leading to the restrooms. Finding the ladies room, I couldn’t get inside quick enough. It was just spilled soda. I’d been thrown face-first in horse poop my whole life, but this had embarrassed me just the same. Probably because it’d happened in front of Brax, and he seemed to think it was so funny. I stared at my reddened face in the mirror, then down to the soaked material of my floral shirt. Wetting several paper towels, I got the sticky off my skin and managed to mop up what I could of the drink. Balling up the used paper, I tossed them into the trash and pushed open the door.
“Hey, Livvy,” a voice said smoothly, and my head snapped up. Even when my vision zoned in, I couldn’t believe what I was looking at. Who, rather.
Kelsy Evans leaned against the opposite wall, arms folded casually over his chest, eyes dead on mine. Cold fear and panic replaced my easy-going spirit from before, and I froze. My brain scrambled around, trying to make sense of who I was suddenly face to face with. How could this be? God, how was he here? Inside, my brain jumbled into a ball of tangled barbed wire. I wanted to run, run fast and far, but that message didn’t make it to the muscles in my feet, my legs. I couldn’t move. Not a single inch.
A very slow, very deliberate, and very wily and sexy smile broadened Brax Jenkins’ intriguing face. He laced his fingers together, and leaned forward. “Is that so, Gracie?” His voice, accent, was low, raspy. Ridiculously sexy. Totally fascinating.
Nutcracker!
I thought it, unable to help myself, then I smothered a laugh with my hand. Even though I felt the heat rising in my skin from my blunder and Brax’s insinuation, just saying the safe word in my head helped. I didn’t feel caged in or threatened. All I could feel was laughter bubbling up inside of me, all stemmed from that ridiculous conversation with Tessa, and the safe word. My eyes began to water, and Brax just looked at me, cocked his head, and grinned.
“Did I say something funny, Gracie?” he asked.
The waiter and our food arrived with perfect timing. Even knowing what Brax was doing—which was some serious flirting—it didn’t really seem to matter now. It was like there was a separate part of my brain that wanted to do exactly what it wanted to do. Without my consent. And I think whatever it was, it made me lose all coherent sensibility. Despite the past year, Brax seemed to have the ability to make me drop my guard. No wonder so many women fell at his feet. The boy had serious talent. But I had a safe word. And it had worked. And I wasn’t going to be one of his throwbacks. Not me.
“Do you know every time you get embarrassed, your skin turns pink?” Brax said. His lips curled around the fried oyster he’d popped into his mouth.
I tamped down my embarrassment, took a few bites, and downed some tea. “Do you realize you have no filter whatsoever?”
His brow lifted. “Pure skill.” He dug into his chowder.
I nodded. “Really?” Inclining my head toward his hands, I asked the question that had been burning in my mind. “What do those mean?”
Something in Brax’s eyes shifted, hazed, and I immediately regretted asking the question. With one thumb, he grazed the tattooed knuckles of the opposite hand. He shrugged, and lifted his profound stare to mine. “I don’t know. I was just a kid, Gracie. A stupid kid thinking I had something to prove.”
It was then and there I glimpsed a vulnerability I hadn’t really noticed before in Brax’s confident mannerisms. I couldn’t begin to put a finger on it, but it was there, evident, still the same. Strangely enough, it almost reminded me of … mine. I wanted to ask more, but something kept it inside of me. Those light blue eyes, rimmed by dark lashes, regarded me closely, almost as if anticipating I’d ask something. Anything. He waited, and held my gaze so long, I almost couldn’t look away.
Before I could say anything, though, two guys slid into the booth with us. The one who sat beside me draped his arm on the bench rest behind my head. He regarded me with a hooded gaze.
“Bro, what’s up?” the one beside Brax said.
I looked at Brax, and he bumped knuckles with the guy. The flirtatious look in Brax’s eyes faded, replaced with something else. Arrogance? “Kenny, Jake,” he said. He inclined his head toward me. “Olivia Beaumont.”
I gave each one a quick glance. “Hi,” I said to both. My internal human measuring device turned on, and immediately I could tell both guys made me feel cagey.
The one guy beside me, Kenny, lifted my braid. “We’re Brax’s frat brothers. He’s just too rude to tell you that part. So, Olivia Beaumont. Where’re you from?”
I shot a fast look at Brax, and I was surprised to see his eyes fastened on Kenny’s hand—on my braid.
“Are all the girls from your hometown cute little things with freckles and braids?” Jake asked.
Kenny actually lifted my braid to his nose and sniffed it. “Or just you?”
Trapped by the small space of the booth, panic rose in my throat. Broken memories from the year before slammed into me, and pure fear and reaction shrugged over my shoulders like a sopping wet blanket. I reared my elbow back to ram him in the gut, but Brax’s words stopped me.
“Get your fuckin’ hand outta her hair, Kenny, before I break your fuckin’ face against this table here,” Brax said. His feral eyes flashed fury. He didn’t blink, breathe, or flinch. He just stared fire at Kenny. It was the most intense, intimidating look I’d ever seen. On anyone. And every one of my brothers had a fierce look when they wanted. Brax’s voice was stone-cold dead serious. Lethal and chilling.
It shocked me. My earlier reservations returned full force. Yes. Brax had demons. He hid them well, but not well enough. I was looking at them right now, and they were staring back. Hard.
Kenny dropped my braid fast, scooted away from me, and held up his hands in defense. “Whoa, bro, take it easy,” he said. “What the hell’s gotten into you?” Kenny coughed. “Yeah, me and Jake was just riding by and saw your bike, thought we’d see what you were doing.” He looked at me. “Sorry, Olivia. Just playin’ around is all.”
“No problem,” I answered quietly, although I didn’t believe him, not for a second. My heart pounded, and I struggled to keep them from noticing my breath coming faster. When I looked back at Brax, his eyes were still locked onto Kenny, angry and furious. Why, I wondered?
Kenny’s lip curled in a not-so-attractive grin at Brax. “All right, we’ll leave you two lovebirds alone. Jenks, I’ll let Collins know we, uh,” he glanced at me, “bumped into you two. Jake, let’s bounce.”
They both slid from the booth, and Jake glanced at Brax. “Kick ass pitchin’ today, bro. You smoked the hell out of it.”
“Yeah, I know,” Brax said, still eyeing Kenny.
Without another word, Jake and Kenny left.
Brax’s gaze stared them down until they were out of sight.
“What was that all about?” I asked calmly. I hope Brax hadn’t noticed the sheer dread Kenny had caused in me; I didn’t want to make a big deal about it. That would only raise questions, and I wasn’t willing to give any answers. So I thought making light of it all and hiding the fact that I’d almost had a panic attack was the best route. “I thought he was going to start chewing on my hair.” I laughed softly, forced, and it felt as fake as it actually was. “I was almost compelled to use my safe word.”
For a second, Brax didn’t respond. Those ghostly eyes were hardened, terrifying. Then, he took a visible deep breath in, closed his eyes briefly, and when they opened again and focused on me, they were clear, bright, and most of the fury had disappeared. But it was still there, the anger. Simmering in those odd blue orbs. “Kenny’s a fuckin’ prick, Gracie. Excuse my French, but he is.”
Before I thought about it, I’d reached across the table and grazed his knuckles with my fingertips. “It’s okay. Really. Forget about it.”
Just that fast, Brax’s eyes went from clear to smoky gray-blue. The cocky sly half-grin was back. He looked down at my fingers, then back to me. “What’s your safe word?”
I lowered my hand and met his gaze square-on. “It wouldn’t be a safe word if I told you, would it?”
A slow, wolfish smirk curled his sexy lips up in the corners. “You touch me like that again, Gracie Beaumont, and you’re gonna need a helluva lot more than a safe word.” He leaned back and studied me for several uncomfortable moments, and his eyes never left mine, never wavered, not once. “Now how ’bout you tell me why you got that wild ass look in your eye when Kenny grabbed your hair?”
6. Trouble
As those severe blue eyes examined me, awaiting my response, I realized something extremely important about Brax. His perception level was way higher than I’d thought. He’d seemed so occupied in staring down his obnoxious frat brother that I hadn’t noticed the depth of intensity in which he simultaneously studied me. That relentless scrutiny focused, measured, weighed as he stared, and while those ethereal eyes promoted his peculiar looks I immediately knew one thing for absolute sure. Brax Jenkins was not an empty-headed, popular, tattooed man slut of a baseball jock. He was exceptionally clever. Intelligent. I could see it in his watchful, alert gaze.
But I was smart, too, and wasn’t about to reveal my secrets to a virtual stranger. No matter how oddly drawn to him I was. Maybe, with a little luck, my apprehension could be successfully masked, because the less of my horrific senior year in high school anyone knew, the better. Pasting a smile to my face, I straightened in the booth, fixed a confident stare to my gaze and answered his question. “I told you, I’m not like the typical giggly partying flirtatious college girls you usually meet. I just don’t like strange guys crowding my personal space, is all.”
Brax studied me for several seconds, his eyes fixed and concentrating on mine. I knew he was trying to figure me out, and I hoped with all mighty hope he failed. Finally, he ducked his head, as if trying to get a better view from my chin up. “All right, Gracie,” he said in an even, low tone. Then his crooked mouth lifted at the corner, puckering the skin around the scar on his cheek. It made him look fierce and sexy at the same time. He leaned toward me, eyes never leaving mine. “I crowded you.”
Although I made a conscious effort not to fidget under Brax’s scrutiny, I couldn’t help the flush of fire that raced up my neck and pooled in my cheeks. The heat pouring through the pores of my skin actually stung, so I knew I was probably beet red. And by the way Brax’s grin lifted a little higher at the corner, he hadn’t missed it, either. Enjoying it a little too much, I’d even say. I did my best to shrug off my reaction, and drew a calming breath in, nice and slow. “I guess I just don’t feel threatened by you,” I smiled, “since we’re only friends and all.” Stranger yet, I actually didn’t feel threatened.
Brax’s smile didn’t fade. “And all, huh?”
I lifted a shoulder. “Just a figure of speech.” I shifted in my booth seat, tucking my foot under my bottom, determined to shift gears from myself. “So do you have any brothers or sisters?”
Something faint, ghostly, crossed Brax’s features. He didn’t look away from me, but I saw the change, and it reminded me of a fast storm brewing in the ocean. Bright and sunny one second, clouds swirling overhead the next. He rapped his fingertips against the table between us, making a thudding sound. “Three brothers, one sister,” he said. Brotha. Sista. Then, the confident arrogance was back, and his eyes cleared. “They’re older, doing their own thing.” His jutted his chin. “I’m what you’d call the black sheep of the family.”
My brows knitted as I gave him a puzzled look. “Not too black if you’ve earned yourself a baseball scholarship. Besides. You may be charming but you can’t charm your way through academics.” I pursed my lips. “I’m starting to think you’re really just a geek beneath a tattooed gangster disguise.” A seriously phenomenal disguise, too, I thought, as my stare drifted from one piece of inked body art to the next.
Brax’s amused look made his eyes dance. “You think I look like a gangster, Gracie?” Gangsta.
My gaze raked over his inked knuckles, then I looked up and shrugged. “Yeah, a little.”
“And yet you climbed on the back of my bike and left campus.” Brax rubbed his chin with his thumb. “With nothing more than your little purse and a safe word. Interesting.” He inclined his head. “Unless you’re packin’.”
I couldn’t help but grin. “I said you looked like a gangster. Not that I thought you were one.”
Brax’s white teeth flashed behind his lips. “Looks can be deceiving, Gracie. Remember that.”
From his tattoos, dark hair, and vaporous blue eyes, to the silvery scars that marred his skin, I absolutely wondered about that.
“Here’s your check, guys,” our waiter said. He was walking toward me and slowed just long enough to slip the plastic holder with the receipt onto the table. Just as he leaned, the platter of drinks he was carrying tipped, too, and a tall glass fell. A gush of ice and soda splashed over the front of my top and soaked my skin.
I gasped and jumped back in surprise.
“Oh, hell!” the waiter said. “Damn, I’m sorry darlin’! Let me get you a towel.”
“I got it, man,” Brax said, eased out of the booth and grabbed a handful of napkins from the waiter’s stand. He handed them to me and embarrassment flooded my face once more as I patted my sticky wet chest. My blouse clung to my skin.
“Thanks,” I told Brax. I glanced around until I found the restrooms. “I’ll just go rinse off a little.” Scooting from the booth, my eyes darted to Brax, and laughter danced in his eyes. I skirted the bar and down the hallway leading to the restrooms. Finding the ladies room, I couldn’t get inside quick enough. It was just spilled soda. I’d been thrown face-first in horse poop my whole life, but this had embarrassed me just the same. Probably because it’d happened in front of Brax, and he seemed to think it was so funny. I stared at my reddened face in the mirror, then down to the soaked material of my floral shirt. Wetting several paper towels, I got the sticky off my skin and managed to mop up what I could of the drink. Balling up the used paper, I tossed them into the trash and pushed open the door.
“Hey, Livvy,” a voice said smoothly, and my head snapped up. Even when my vision zoned in, I couldn’t believe what I was looking at. Who, rather.
Kelsy Evans leaned against the opposite wall, arms folded casually over his chest, eyes dead on mine. Cold fear and panic replaced my easy-going spirit from before, and I froze. My brain scrambled around, trying to make sense of who I was suddenly face to face with. How could this be? God, how was he here? Inside, my brain jumbled into a ball of tangled barbed wire. I wanted to run, run fast and far, but that message didn’t make it to the muscles in my feet, my legs. I couldn’t move. Not a single inch.
