Wicked Company

Chapter Twenty-Eight

My feet moved, inching to the room's door, my hand pausing on the knob before it followed through and shut it with a click. My fingers gripped around the picture tighter and tighter, sweat beading under my clutched skin.

My heartbeat rang in my ears, so loud I swore I could hear it echoing within the tiny confines of the closet they called a room. I stumbled back against the wall, my shoulders slamming into the shelf that jutted out from the unfinished drywall. I winced, clamping my eyes shut and sliding down to the floor, hugging my knees to my chest, the picture tight in my hand.

Tears began to pour down my cheeks. My uncle wasn't coming. My heart stammered against my sternum, knocking the breath from me with its wild beats. I brought the picture to my chest and hugged it tight, rocking slowly and letting the room close in, swallowing me.

My head blurred, vision clouded, and just before I fell to my side in a daze, the door swung open and the light of the lobby flew in with Tucker's silhouette in the doorway.

"Barbie, what the fuck!" He kneeled down in front of me and offered his hands, waiting for me to decide whether to cling to him or push him away.

"I'm sorry." The words croaked from my lips, my mouth dry as the desert. "I'm sorry."

I bypassed his hands and wrapped my arms around his neck, molding myself to him. My eyes stayed glued to the picture as I held it behind his back, stray tears falling from my lids and soaking the back of his shirt.

"Let's get out of here," he whispered softly once my tears had ceased, standing and pulling me up with him. With his hand clasped tight around mine, we left the building and drove in silence to my house.

Kicking one foot over the other, Tucker relaxed against the doorframe of my room. His eyes were on me, watching as I clung on to my new favorite picture, kissing it and setting it next to the one on my dresser.

I could feel his questions, his concern. But I'd cried enough for the day and wanted, needed, to let go.

"Wanna go out tonight?"

I spun on my heel at his question, huffing at the realization of how well he knew me and how easily he played it off.

"No." Yes. Why did I say that? Open your mouth and tell the truth, you idiot. "At least not with you."

Oh, here we go.

Why did I fight it? After already realizing I had feelings for him? No idea. But the devil on my shoulder was egging me on, wanting to see if he'd call out my lies.

And, of course, he did.

His lips twitched and hands emerged from his pockets as he kicked off from his relaxed position against the frame. He strode towards me without a word, dipped his shoulder, and hoisted me over it like a rag doll.

"Hey! You little shit!" I squealed, flailing around in surprise. He reached up, tickled my side, and chuckled deeply when I burst into a fit of laughter.

With both of us still fully clothed, he set me down in the shower, his large frame towering over me as the water cascaded down around us. Wincing at the cold droplets soaking his body, his grin still held itself wide across his lips.

"Great, now we're both wet." I eyed him up and down, shying away from the water dripping down his cheeks and off the tip of his nose.

He frowned. "You're still dry. I didn't want the initial cold water to hit-"

I watched his face turn heated when he realized I hadn't meant from the shower for myself. The second it dawned on him, he groaned and closed the gap between us, his lips slanting over mine with primal hunger. The corners of my mouth tipped up in a grin, my hands twisting into his soaked bun and pulling the tie free. I grabbed at the ends, letting my fingers trail to the nape of his neck.

He jerked my pants open, growling when they stayed in place, too tight to fall down my legs.

"Why does this always happen when you're wearing the tightest clothes?"

"Not my fault you have shit timing."

Tucker wrestled them down my thighs, the water soaking me when he bent down. He stood and covered my lips again, his beard scratching against my chin.

"Stop wearing clothes all together then."

His hushed tones against my mouth raised goosebumps along my skin and I shuddered, releasing his hair and fumbling with his soaking wet clothes, yanking them from his body as quickly as I could.

"I can't just not wear clothes. Everyone would see. You saying you're okay with that?"

He froze, but his demeanor quickly changed. His muscles flexed under my touch and he scowled, his eyes dangerously far from the light blue of their usual hue.

His eyes met mine. "Don't push me with that. You've had a tough day and I don't want to be too rough with you."

I dared him, my eyes running down his body slowly, too slowly. My tongue peeked from my parted mouth and ran along my lower lip.

"Like you could be," I challenged. "Distract me from the day. Do it."

"I'm just a distraction then, is that it?"

"Are you saying you want to be more? What is it that you want?"

"I-" he stopped himself, unsure of how to answer.

That was the thing. We had no clue what we were. We fucked when we wanted, sure, and we felt something for one another. But how deep did it go? How deep were we allowing ourselves to let go? Was there trust built aside from our bodies?

I couldn't answer that. Not yet.

So I didn't. I pulled his mouth back down and kissed him hard, letting my body take over. Or so I told myself. Because when he took charge once more? I was all too willing.

"Turn around. Hands on the wall. Feet apart."

I did as his raspy voice demanded, my top soaked through and completely neglected as it clung to my body.

His chest pressed against my back and his hands maneuvered under my shirt, cupping my tits and filling his hands. His cock flexed against my ass, his nakedness teasing me more before his feet kicked mine apart further.

With the water falling in streams on and around us, he shifted back and lined himself up with my entrance, snapping his hips upward and filling me in one thrust.

I screamed against the wind knocked from my lungs, but his name was the only word falling from my tongue.