Wicked and Dangerous
Page 13

She reared back as if he’d slapped her in the face. In a way, he had. “I was thinking about experiencing all the orgasms I never got when I was married to you. And Decker might not have phrased it nicely, but he’s absolutely right. I didn’t feel valued, Owen. I don’t think you ever truly loved me. If you came here for advice, I’ll give it to you. Start by caring about something besides work. Romance is important. Sex is more than a bodily function. Don’t make her feel like an interruption or your dirty necessity. You did that to me all the time, you . . . jerk.”
The enormity of what she’d just said hit her. She gasped. Had that really just spewed from her mouth? Her mama had taught her that if she didn’t have anything nice to say, she shouldn’t say anything at all. But if he’d come here for the truth, why not give it to him? Clearly Decker was rubbing off on her . . .
“What she said,” he added with a proud smile.
“I’m speechless,” Owen admitted, looking stupefied. “I didn’t know you felt that strongly about frivolous things like flowers and intercourse. I married you because I thought you were far too sensible to care much for such inane things.”
“You didn’t ask. And honestly, you wouldn’t have cared how I felt, Owen. And I’ll tell you the truth. Carly probably cares about those things, too, because she’s a woman, not a robot. If you want to keep her, you need to figure out how to meet her halfway.”
“I never meant to hurt you,” he offered.
Too little, too late. Rachel sighed. “I know. It’s water under the bridge. I just hope you’re ready to be a better man and partner with Carly.”
Owen didn’t answer. He simply sat there, looking disoriented and lost in thought. Rachel had never seen that expression on his face. He was actually worried about losing Carly. The woman mattered to him.
Amazing. Maybe she should have been more honest with Owen while they were married. Instead, she’d done her best to be understanding. The minute he’d started taking her for granted, she should have said something. But the few times she’d tried, Owen hadn’t understood or hadn’t thought it important. His dismissive attitude, as if her feelings were nowhere nearly as important to him as subatomic particles traveling faster than the speed of light at CERN, had really hurt. In the grand scheme of the universe, of course his work was important. But at the time, she’d wondered why she hadn’t mattered, too. He’d been far too interested in chasing what Einstein had never been able to prove. In fact, when she’d said she wanted a divorce, his long sigh of irritation—with nary a word of protest—told her they were never meant to be. If she’d faced that sooner, she could have saved herself a few years and a lot of heartache.
“You’ve gotten what you came here for, pal. Thanks for stopping by.” Decker stood and rounded the coffee table to stand over Owen expectantly.
“I . . .” He looked at Rachel. “That’s so much to contemplate. You’re talking about changing the way I do everything, the way I approach life. Sex is actually important to women?”
“Yes, Owen. I know it’s a lot, but—”
“Look, this girl is either important to you or she isn’t,” Decker cut in. “If she is and you want to keep her, then use your head. There’s a reason she sent you to talk to Rachel. Women don’t usually want their man talking to an ex unless they’re at the end of their rope. And when did you get the stupid-ass idea that sex wasn’t important to women?”
Owen frowned, gaping. “I know it’s important to most men, but . . . I assumed women were less interested in such things.”
“The amount of pleasure you give her is a direct statement about how important she is to you, ass-hat. If you can’t make the effort to make her feel good when she’s yielding her time and body to you, then how can she feel valued?” Decker shook his head. “Didn’t you ever learn to kiss and sweet-talk girls in high school out of their bras and into their panties?”
A red flush swept up Owen’s face. “No. I let beer in college do that for me.”
Which probably explained why he’d kept a few bottles of good wine in the house when they’d been married and given her a glass or two when he’d been “in the mood.”
“Well, now you know that females like conversation with their orgasms. They like to feel special.” Decker dragged Owen to his feet, and her ex stood as if in a daze. “Try that with Carly. Ask her what she likes and listen. Put a smile on her face. And fucking call next time you’re thinking of dropping by to see Rachel.”
He managed to scoot her ex out of the room, down the hall, and out the front door without a protest from Owen. The way Decker had handled her ex had been nothing short of brilliant.
The second Decker shut the door behind Owen, he locked it and flashed her a sharkish grin.
“Decker?” She backed away.
“Beautiful . . .” He urged her against the foyer wall, kissing her absolutely breathless. A girl could get used to this . . .
Too bad he wouldn’t be around.
Rachel broke the kiss. The thought that he would soon leave and she would probably never see him again bothered her way more than it should. It was a good idea to part ways soon, before she started losing her heart to Decker. Or maybe it was already too late?
“Do you want those pancakes now? I really do know how to make them. I don’t want to send you off hungry.” She tried to wink and tease and not let on that his imminent departure was breaking her heart more than it probably should.
She expected him to agree, maybe share a casual breakfast with her. Then she supposed he’d smile, offer some thanks, along with a kiss or two, then climb on that gleaming motorcycle of his and leave. The last thing Rachel had ever imagined was for his face to thunder over, for his blue eyes to penetrate her bravado, and for him to press every inch of his hard body into her possessively.
“If you want pancakes, fine. If you don’t want to send me away hungry, then let’s skip the kitchen and go back to bed. I’m famished for you.”
SEVEN
DECKER HELD RACHEL, NAKED AND WARM, CLOSE TO HIM IN postcoital bliss, and eyed Val meowing on the far side of the bed. No doubt, they were both hungry, but that wasn’t his biggest problem.
Fighting down a mild panic, he dropped a kiss on Rachel’s brow as she slept, then he covered her up. Away from the bed, he stepped into his jeans and tucked the gun into the small of his back before making his way to the kitchen. As he did, he jammed his hand in his pocket, searching for his phone. Val followed, and he kind of wanted to high-five the cat for hissing at Owen.
Rachel’s diva pet turned cheetah and ran straight for the pantry. In the cheerful white kitchen, Decker flipped on the lights and opened the door. The cat purred and rubbed up against his bag of dry food, then looked at him with a plaintive wail.
No wonder Rachel was a sucker for Val. He’d nearly perfected crying like a baby to get his way.
With a faint grin, Decker scooped some dry food into Val’s bowl. The feline immediately darted to his dish and dived in, dismissing him.
“Lucky thing.” Decker only wished he could solve his own problems that easily, but he was going to have to make a call to even start in that direction.
Peeking down the hall, glad that Rachel hadn’t stirred from bed, he called Xander, who answered just before the fourth ring, sounding distinctly pissed off. “This better be good.”
Which meant that he’d caught his boss having a little nookie with London.
“Hang up!” Javier snarled on the other end, clearly near his brother.
Which meant they were both having a little nookie with London.
Talk about bad timing . . .
“Don’t need me for a few days. I still can’t figure out who’s trying to off Rachel. She’s not safe alone.” And he hated lying to her about why he’d picked her up at that dive bar, but the truth would scare the hell out of her. He would stay for a while, protect her, make this asshole go away . . . then decide what to do with his life. He’d have to come clean with her eventually, but what they had was too new. She might not understand or believe him. If he was still seeing forever with her after the danger had passed, then he’d sit her down, spew the truth, and they’d hash it all out.
“Got it. I won’t call you unless the world is ending. If you promise from now on not to call on a Sunday morning,” Xander growled.
“No problem.”
Without another word, Xander ended the call. The man was almost as devoted to the operation of S.I. Industries, the family business he ran with Javier, as he was to London’s pleasure. Almost, but not quite . . .
With that, Decker pocketed the phone, then helped himself to Rachel’s laptop. In less than ten minutes, he figured out that Owen and Carly had flown into Lafayette on Saturday about noon, not necessarily enough time to have made it to the bar by two to solicit him to commit murder. That would explain why he might have hired a go-between. And provide Owen a great alibi if suspicion ever turned his way. They were scheduled to fly home tomorrow evening.
Another interesting tidbit jumped out at him. Owen and Carly had applied for a marriage license. They’d blown past the three-day waiting period. In fact, they hadn’t married in the sixty days since applying. The license had expired. What was that about? Had Carly gotten cold feet? Had that been the bump in their relationship Owen had alluded to?
To compound Decker’s problems, Rachel clearly expected him to leave anytime now. She’d probably wake up from their latest round of breath-stealing, eye-crossing sex, try to feed him, and assume he wanted to go. He had to put a stop to that shit now so he could fix everything else. Time was ticking, and whoever wanted Rachel dead was expecting a call to confirm completion of the job any minute now. What was he going to do once Monday morning rolled around and she wanted to go into work? Tie her to the bed?
The idea had delicious possibilities, but only with her consent. Somehow, he didn’t think she’d agree to miss school for just about any reason. Fuck.
His thoughts racing, he strode to the pantry. He was no Chef Ramsey but he got by. Pulling out a loaf of bread and retrieving some eggs from the refrigerator, Decker managed to scrape together something that looked like sustenance within ten minutes. By that time, Val was happily purring around his ankles and meowing his thanks.
Plating everything onto the first dish he found in the cabinet, he tossed on a banana from the counter, grabbed a couple of forks, and poured them each a glass of juice. As he made his way down the hall, he heard Rachel stirring. Val darted to his mistress, and by the time Decker entered the bedroom, she was cuddling with the little fur ball.
She looked up at Decker with sleepy dark eyes and rosy cheeks. A little smile played at her lips. Barely concealed by the sheet, Rachel looked a bit rumpled and a lot sated. She was probably the most beautiful woman he’d seen, not because she was perfect or belonged in a magazine. Because he had put that look on her face. Because she looked like his.
Oh fuck, he was in deep.
“Did you cook?”
“Just for you. I did my very best to make it edible, too.”
“You mean it won’t taste like something the school cafeteria sells?”
He hesitated. “I can’t promise that. It might be worse, since I don’t really cook. But I get points for effort, right?”
“Sure.” She smiled at him, looking really happy. And what did it say that seeing that expression on her face gratified him?
“Good. I can trade those points in on . . . favors, can’t I?”
“Like?” She flirted coyly from under her lashes.
He set the plate on her nightstand and bent to nuzzle her neck. “Hmm, suck your nipples like candy. Or spend lunch between your legs. Feeling your mouth all around my cock? I know, how about spending the afternoon inside you.”
“For that, I’ll give you lots of points.” Then she shifted her gaze away. “I’d love for you to spend a little more time with me if you’ve got it. And you want to.”
Decker kissed her cheek and handed her the plate. Here’s where he had to lie to Rachel again. And fuck all if he didn’t hate that. Maybe he should tell her the truth. It was her life, after all. But he hated to take away her upbeat attitude about the world. He didn’t want to be the one to make her afraid. His role was to protect her, shelter her. He might not be Mr. Happily-ever-after, but by damned, keeping her safe and unaware of the danger was a job he could do well.
“I’d love to, beautiful. In fact, I’d love to spend a lot more time with you today, especially since you probably have to return to work tomorrow.”
If he hadn’t managed to solve this by tomorrow morning, no fucking way was she stepping foot outside this house without him. He’d think of something to keep her near him.
“Actually, I’ve got next week off for fall break. I’ve been looking forward to this time to finish unpacking my boxes and get my garden ready for the winter before the weather turns cold. I have a feeling this Florida girl might find the chillier winter here a bit of a shock.” She popped a bite of egg into her mouth and moaned. “I don’t even know if this is good, but I’m so hungry, I’ll say it’s delicious. Aren’t you going to eat?”