Jay Crownover - Better When He's Bad

I made it to the garage in no time. The Runner really was the best gift he could have given me. I knew the code to the garage bay and poked it in on the keypad. Bax and Race had turned Gus’s old, run-down chop shop into an ultramodern, fully operational, high-tech automobile palace. There were new lifts, all new machines, and every kind of car you could imagine sprawled from one end of the space to the other. Mixed in between the muscle cars Bax was restoring and the expensive luxury cars that were there for purposes unknown, there was a bunch of cars parked along one back wall that looked like they just belonged to everyday Joes.

Bax was bent over the open hood of the ’Cuda, his whole upper half bent in the engine compartment. I don’t think he heard me because he didn’t lift his head. The back of his T-shirt was lifted up, flashing the flurry of black birds that danced up along the center of his back and ended up swirled and intertwined with his name that arched across his shoulders. He wanted me to get the scar on my chest looked at by a plastic surgeon, he told me it hurt him every time he had to think about watching Novak put it there. I told him I had earned it, I had earned him. I wanted it there to remind him of what we had to lose, of what could happen if we let things get away from us, if we took the fight we needed to keep us together for granted. I had survived, so had he, and we made it out together. The birds that covered his back served the same purpose, only I had to admit his markings were a far prettier sight.

I tiptoed up behind him and softly trailed my fingers along the exposed skin above the top of his jeans. He jerked around in surprise and I laughed at the scowl on his face. The wrench he had in his hand rattled to the cement ground.

“Hey. What are you doing here?” I saw his eyes sweep over me from head to toe. My legs were bare under the hem of his hoodie where it hit me at midthigh. One of his dark eyebrows danced upward and the corner of his mouth kicked up in a grin.

I cocked my head to the side and lifted an eyebrow back at him. “What’s up with the used-car lot over there? Those aren’t your usual flavor.”

His gaze skated over the line of cars and he sighed. “You want the truth or you want me to lie to you?”

I rolled my eyes at him and stood on my tiptoes so I could wind my arms around his neck. His big hands settled on my hips and he pulled me so I was cradled between his legs where he was leaning against the car.

“Truth.”

“People who gamble don’t think. They throw money around, take risks, and don’t have long-term plans. The only way gambling works is if the person has something to lose. Race is playing a pretty dangerous game, but he’s smart. Way smarter than Novak ever was. Dead men can’t pay debts, broken men can’t go to work, but take a guy’s ride and he knows you’re serious. Pay up or your car goes bye-bye. Those are the cars waiting for their owners to pay up.”

“And those cars got here how, exactly?”

He grinned down at me now, mischief sparking in the center of his obsidian-tinted gaze.

“Just consider me a repo man of sorts. I didn’t steal them to chop them up. I just borrowed them to help your brother out.”

“And if the owners don’t pay up?”

“Possession is nine-tenths of the law. So far everybody wins.”

“Until someone turns you in.”

“The Point doesn’t work like that, Copper-Top. Bad places have bad people and bad people have bad vices. Race is taking a risk, but he’s filling a need that was always gonna be there. I’ll keep an eye on it, Titus isn’t stupid and isn’t going to let it get out of hand, but for now it’s working and let’s just leave it at that. Now, why don’t you tell me why you are in the garage, half naked, looking all shiny-eyed and happy?”

I pressed my mouth to his, made him let me tangle my tongue with his, and used my leverage to press even closer to him. I would never get over how solid and sturdy he felt against me. His fingers tangled in the ends of my hair and I heard him sigh softly against my now damp mouth.

“I got offered a promotion at the group home today. A great job that will let me really help the kids, more money, and no more weekends away. I wanted to celebrate, so really I wanted you.”

He nodded his head at me and I squealed a little in surprise when he bent and picked me up. I curled my legs around his waist and leaned against him as he started to walk toward the office at the back of the garage.

“That’s awesome, Copper-Top. Congratulations. You really were born to make a difference for those who need you.”

“Where are you taking me?” I decided to nuzzle the curve of his neck, happy that he shivered a little in response.

“I put more cameras in this place than all of London has. There isn’t a corner of the lot or the building not on a live camera feed. Normally a little show-and-tell wouldn’t bother me, but considering your brother has all the access codes, I doubt that’s a show he wants to see, especially if you don’t have anything on under this sweatshirt. The office is the only place not wired up.”

I appreciated his consideration, because what I had in mind most definitely didn’t need my brother’s or anyone else’s input.

The heavy metal door closed behind us with a clang and Bax wasted no time pressing me up against it and working the zipper on the front of his hoodie down. His dark gaze glowed at me and the way his throat worked up and down made me think this was possibly one of my most brilliant ideas ever.

“I couldn’t do just the hoodie and nothing else. That’s just too bad for me.”

He chuckled a little and bent down to kiss me softly on the mouth. It made me sigh, and the way he worked his hands up over the edge of my ribs made me gasp out loud.

“Dovie, you’re my girl. Nothing is too bad for you.”

That made me laugh, which quickly turned into a groan, and he had the heavy material off of my shoulders and the tank top off of me in a few twisting, flexing moves. I tugged at his T-shirt until it cleared the top of his head and we were pressed together, chest to chest, our hearts beating the same excited, aroused rhythm. My nipples pebbled up in eager anticipation and my legs tensed automatically around his waist. He dropped his head and ran his tongue along the raised ridge of my scar. He did that every time we were together like this. I wasn’t sure if it was to make sure I knew it didn’t take away from how beautiful he found me, or if he was trying to take the memory away. Either way, I always liked it and it made me rake my hands along his cap of short hair.

“I like these.” His fingers dipped inside the leg of the panties I had put on. I shivered at the gentle touch.

I kissed the star on his face and used my teeth on the lobe of his ear. “I like you.”

He laughed, something he was getting slightly better at. “Good to know.”

Then there was no more room for joking or thought, because his fingers went from outside my panties to inside, and all I could do was feel. He was just so intent, so focused, and read my body so easily. He touched me just right, had me gasping his name and shamelessly grinding between his hard body and the door in seconds. I was greedy, wet, and desperate for him. I locked my ankles over the top off his ass and let my head thunk back against the door. My eyes went half-mast, and I watched him watch me as he wound me up.

My inner walls pulled at his talented fingers, my legs quivered around him, and by the time he relented and roughly swiped his thumb over my clit, there was no holding back the flood of release he had unleashed. I leaned forward and sealed my mouth over his, told him I loved him, and tried not to slide down the door as he used his free hand to tenderly stroke and caress the tip of one breast. He always did that, got me off, tore me up, and then turned sweet and gentle until he was ready to push me past all my limits again. I didn’t even protest when he ripped the panties out of his way, even though that meant I was going home bare-assed under his hoodie.