DOTTY (The Naughty Ones Book 3) Page 40

  Sweet shitake my guy is fine finefinefine fine.

  He’s dressed, if I can even call it that, in a tight pair of black shorts or trunks or whatever you call those babies, and I am so turned on by the sight of his tight ass flexing in them that I squirm in my seat.

  Hensley, sitting to my left, turns and smirks at me, his eyes still that impenetrable ice blue, but somehow I see his warmth shining through.

  “Why don’t you fight?”

  He smiles, smirks really, and raises a brow.

  “I’ve got protection duty tonight, and besides I don’t go into the cage with Chase. I’m bad, not stupid.”

  “Huh?” I ignore the roar of the crowd as some overgrown behemoth and another guy go at each other in the cage.

  I’m not into this kind of stuff, but who can pass up seeing Chase like this? Not me!

  Hensley casts an eye at Liv to make sure she’s still okay before looking down at me.

  “Chase is…not as civilized as you would assume.”

  Oookaay.

  “Elaborate please.”

  He shrugs as if he’s uncomfortable, something that surprises me in a man as confident and, well, cool as Hensley. He’s never shown himself to be anything even resembling emotional, besides that day in the hospital. So I am…stunned when he blows out a breath and scrubs at his nape.

  “You see the headliner?”

  “The Animal?”

  “Yup. Chase is a billionaire, successful, attractive—in his own way of course. And he’s got this charm about him that people misconstrue.”

  I swallow another chug of beer and blink up at Hensley, my mind sort of whirring. Is he saying…? But no, that is like so far…and yet as I turn my eyes on Chase again, his eyes locking on mine, his smile so supremely confident and yet hard, as if he’s become someone else.

  “The Animal?”

  Hensley nods once and we both look at Chase, Gabe—the reason that Liv’s still silently drooling—and Brick who, by the way, earned that name fairly because the man is huge and so muscular I marvel that he’s not carved of marble.

  “But, but how?”

  Hensley shoves at a guy who gets too close to my cast and repositions my leg for comfort, his gaze hard on any who dare venture near before turning back to me.

  “I don’t know all of it, we’re not that close, but Brick once told me that Chase learned to fight when he was a teen. Something about being attacked by a gang of football players when he was in high school.”

  My heart stops and I literally gape at that because I never knew. Chase never told me. But why would he, and why do I think I have the right to be offended? I’ve never told him about what happened to me and I…adore him. I trust him with my life.

  My shame stops me every time I even think of broaching it. I don’t really want Chase to see me differently. We’ve spoken about what a self-centered bitch I was at one stage, but I don’t think he really believes me. If he ever learns it all, I am terrified he’d be disgusted.

  “Please tell me he kicked their asses,” I whisper, blinking rapidly because I think I already know the answer. I’m just hoping I’m wrong.

  “Nope. They beat the shit out of him and put him in the hospital for weeks. His dad went nuts about it, but some top dog made sure nothing happened to the offenders so his dad sent him to live with his mom in England.”

  I want to know more—everything that he hasn’t told me if I’m honest—but I see Hensley stiffen and sit forward and I look over to see Gabe bounce into the cage, his limbs loose and fluid, a huge smile on his face.

  Liv is yelling through the whole thing, her exuberance and kick-ass curses—super inventive if I do say so myself—are ear splitting, but I enjoy the show as much as she does.

  He wins of course, pinning his opponent in a move that is really fast and shows his skill.

  The fights progress and we watch them all, wincing, laughing, talking and having such a good time that I don’t pay as much attention to Chase as I normally would.

  I only realize he’s on top of me when his hands cup my face and he pulls me into a kiss that leaves my toes curling and my hair on fire…my unmentionables too. Then he thrusts his tongue into my mouth and tastes me so deeply I lose my breath.

  “Wish me luck, babe,” He mutters into my mouth before pulling away with a grin.

  Man, all those muscles. And that indented v of muscles that define his hips…yuuuum.

  “You don’t need it, Animal.” I smirk. “But good luck. Don’t let them ruin your lips. They belong to me.”

  His eyes fire brighter and I see someone I’ve never met before, someone I really, really want to get to know better.

  “Always.”

  And then he sprints back to the cage and I swear I can feel the excitement vibrating from him clear across the room. Obviously he loves this.

  “And now, ladies and gentleman, our long awaited headliner. He’s the reigning champ in every fight—never defeated—Aaaanimal!”

  The crowd goes absolutely wild, chanting his name, and then Brick’s as the two of them bob around before the ref steps in and gives the signal before stepping out.

  Holy Fucking shit!

  Brick is brilliant, and I can honestly say you can see the man is military and totally deadly, but Chase…is something else altogether. The man I see in that cage is wild, cold, and calculated with every punch and kick that he throws. When Brick rushes him he picks him up—that mountain of a man—and smashes him down before twisting him into a lock that is just…scary full of skill.

  They’re well matched, both dangerously quick and strong, but in the end Chase pins Brick in some kind of arm lock that forces the guy to tap out and concede defeat.

  I have to cover my ears at the noise when he’s declared the winner. I sit there in shock and something not at all unlike real horror at what I’ve just seen.

  He’s…ruthless. Unstoppable.

  And for some reason this hurricane, the man who became this…Animal, has taken possession of me.

  I’m so confused and just—

  Just as before, I don’t see him before he grabs me up and starts kissing the hell out of me. He laughs into my mouth, his body vibrating with his victory, his sweat soaking into my skin even as I go cold.

  “I always win.”

  Chapter 20

  Chase

  I know something is wrong the moment I pull the car to a halt and try to get Remy out and into the house. She’s stiff as a board and not looking at me, the complete opposite of the reaction I’m expecting.

  Isn’t she…? Well, okay I can’t expect her to be overjoyed at watching almost three hours’ worth of men beating the tar out of each other, but I sure as heck didn’t expect that she would be this displeased.

  And she’d seemed just fine when I’d kissed her before the fight. Soo…maybe she didn’t like watching me beat Brick—I don’t know.

  “Okay. What’s the problem?” I ask as soon as I’ve settled her on the sofa in the living room and bought us each a glass of orange juice.

  She looks down at her hands before looking up at me, and I see something I don’t recognize swirling in the aqua depths.

  “Why…no, how did you become that-that person I saw in that ring tonight?” she asks. I hear not only judgment but disgust in her.

  I’m thrown for a loop and have to sit down when I see her looking at me as if I’m not…right, as if I’ve actually done something wrong. And then I get angry.

  “What are you talking about?”

  I want her to say it, spell it out for me, tell me that she’s examined me and found me lacking. Because isn’t that what I always got from Remy? Didn’t I pour myself into her when we were younger—tutoring her, spending hours helping her with homework and studying, and debate team? Didn’t I spend all my time working to help her, always hoping that she would eventually see me and want me?

  And didn’t she prove to me already that she doesn’t have what it takes to see past the surface.
>
  “You were so vicious, Chase. I’ve never seen anything like that in my life. How can you be so different at home and yet so…inhuman…?”

  That kills me, slays me, and shatters what I have managed to build with Remy. All I see when I look at her sitting on my sofa, her eyes full of recriminations, is the shallow girl I once loved more than my own pride. More than my own fucking safety!

  I’ve been wrong. I ran home to mum, let my dad send me away with my tail between my legs after defending a girl that I now see clearly doesn’t deserve to be defended. I’ve managed somehow through all these years to build her up into something she clearly isn’t, assigned all the blame on that group of schoolboys while absolving her of her part.

  And most of all, I now see that I have wasted years of my life working toward earning someone that clearly is not worth my time of day.

  “You’re a real piece of work you know that?” I accuse, coming off the sofa to stalk to the liquor cabinet and pour myself a drink.

  My victory and the pride I feel each time I defeat an opponent and save myself from being beaten turns to ashes in my mouth. I wash it away with booze.

  I close off my emotions before I turn back to face her and it takes a huge effort for me not to rage at her and demand that she love me—me, the man who always defended her, wanted her, cherished her.

  At this moment, I know that I’ve been fooling myself. I don’t like Remy—I fucking loved her—and my heart is broken. I am literally dying inside at this newest betrayal and disappointment.

  “I’m a piece of work? Who the hell was that guy?” she demands again, her eyes misting.

  The action enrages me further. I feel myself wanting to do something I have never contemplated before in my life. Not with regards to a defenseless woman.

  I want to throw her out of my house, the fucking house I made for her and the family we’d have one day. I want to abandon her on the streets and leave her at the mercies of whoever hurt her before.

  And then sanity returns and I immediately feel guilty and regret that thought. I would never wish that on anyone, especially not Remy. Jesus, I’m angry but she’s my woman and the thought of her being hurt twists my gut.

  “Obviously, you don’t like what you saw tonight and for that, well, I’m not sorry. That is one aspect of me, one small aspect of the man I made myself into a long time ago. You don’t like it, fine. No more fights for you.”

  “Are you saying that level of violence is part of who you are?”

  Yes! Because they took a part of me away and I had to learn to survive. You also took a part of me I wanted to get back by cherishing you and now—

  “Yes. Those fights are not about violence for me. They are a display of the skills I have acquired over a decade. Any man who steps into the cage understands and accepts the possibility of being defeated or injured.”

  I see her tremble and feel a part of myself that I haven’t quite managed to lock away shrivel in my chest. She’s afraid of me—no, not afraid, wary—as if she believes that I would callously use my skill to hurt others for the sake of causing pain. I resent the hell out of her for that, and I do want her to suffer.

  And I know how I’ll make that happen.

  “Chase, I’m not sure I can accept that.”

  “You don’t have to accept anything about me, Remy. I am who I am and it’s not for you to judge…as if you have any room to talk.” I sneer, feeling the bitterness spill over. “You think you, or any of your set, are so much better than me? You spent how many years married to a man who fucked anyone but you and had so little respect for you that he fucked your cousin.”

  Low.

  She flinches, and I see a tear gather at the corner of her eye before she blinks and stiffens her spine.

  “If you think that poorly of me we shouldn’t be together? I’d like to leave.”

  “And go where, babe? Your parents disowned you and you have nowhere else to go. I suppose I could give you money to go to a hotel, but how long do you think you’d last out there without my protection?” I ask conversationally, the cool mask I’ve worn so well slipping back into place.

  She blanches, and I have to throttle back a sting of guilt when her chin quivers with hurt. Good, let it hurt as much as her judgement hurts me.

  “I—”

  “See, the truth is that you have nowhere else to go. You have no family and the only friend you have is currently in a relationships with my best mate. Guess who he’ll choose.”

  “What do you want from me?”

  Oh, so she has learned to dry up those crocodile tears in the years since she’s been married to that pig, Brian. Good, because from here on out I am going to use her to get what I want, fulfil every goal I set out to accomplish, and I don’t give a fuck if it hurts her delicate sensibilities or not.

  “What I wanted from the first time I saw you. You will be my wife. You will give me the family I crave, and you will never, ever look down your nose at me again.”

  “No.”

  “Oh yes, Remy. What other choice do you have? You no longer have a job after I call your boss tomorrow morning. You have no money, no family, no one to turn to. I am all you’ve got.”

  Her cast hits the floor with a thud and I see her flinch with pain as she struggles to her feet with a groan and stands to look at me, her spine stiff.

  “Why?”

  “I told you. I always win.”

  Chapter 21

  Remy

  I want to slap his face and rage, scream—something that will show him how much I hate what he’s doing as he stands there staring at me, his face an impenetrable mask but for the anger I seem to have inspired.

  I’m so mad right now I can’t stand it. I want to hate him for being this guy, the same shark I saw in that cage. I want to hate him so bad.

  I do, but when I teeter on my aching leg the infernal man does the exact opposite of what I expect. He strides forward, sweeps me up into his arms and takes to the stairs, his long legs eating up the distance to the master bedroom.

  I feel my muscles groan in relief when he gently lowers me to the mattress. My leg feels the immediate relief of pressure, though it’s still thumping from my clumsiness downstairs.

  “Here.”

  I open my eyes to see Chase standing over me holding a glass of water and two pills.

  “No.”

  His eyes flare in annoyance, obliterating the small concern I think I glimpsed there. He tries to give me the pills and fails again.

  “Christ. Just take the Goddamned pills, Remy. You’re in pain,.” he says through gritted teeth.

  “No.”

  I’m not doing this to be contrary or spiteful. I have yet to take one pain pill since the abduction, and I just can’t get over that hurdle of fear no matter how hard I try.

  I feel safe here with Chase—crazy violent displays in the cage not withstanding—and I should feel secure enough to be knocked out by two harmless pills. Nonetheless, every time I so much as think about taking them I feel fear choke me.

  I actually feel on the verge of a panic attack at the thought of being unconscious and helpless, and no matter how I try to convince myself that I’m okay, I can’t get past it.

  “Fine.”

  He stalks back into the bathroom and I hear him slam the medicine cupboard before he comes back with the water and places it beside the bed.

  “At least drink the water. You’re white as a bleeding ghost.”

  I obey, if only to wet my dry throat and distract my frazzled brain, draining the glass and lying back with a sigh. Chase closes his eyes for a brief beat and stalks to the bedside.

  “I’ll undress you and help you get comfortable.”

  “I’m fine.”

  Okay, that is just spite because I know there’s no way I’m getting undressed and into my night wear without half killing my leg.

  “Fuck. Just shut up and let me do it.”

  He ignores my puny struggles and strips me down to my underwear b
efore lifting me and placing me beneath the sheet. His eyes are hot, banked pools of flame by the time my semi-nudity is covered and I grimace, shooting him a glare.

  “Forget it.”

  He smirks, a truly gleeful expression tilting his lips and stands back arms folded.

  “I’ll take you whenever and wherever I want, and you know what, Remy? You won’t be able to resist me because you want me as much as I want you. We may not be compatible right now but we both know that the minute I touch you, your body belongs to me. I have the click in my jaw to prove it.”

  I blush, as mortified as I am angry because I can deny it all I want, but we both know it’s true. My body is a slave to Chase. All it takes for me to want him is the sound of his voice.

  Even now, as confused and angry as I am at him I see his t-shirt stretching over his arms, and the way his shorts adhere to the hard ass I love to lick, and I feel myself go all hot and gooey inside and outside.

  This time though, instead of getting all itchy with need, I feel a slow lethargy infuse me and—

  “What did you do?”

  He comes in and leans closer, his lips feathering gently over mine.

  “You’re in pain. Let the medication work. Please.”

  Oh Goddammit. I’m fighting it even as I feel my eyes start drifting shut and I absolutely hate that instead of being pissed at such a huge betrayal, all I see is the concern and relief in his eyes, the combination making me feel warm and grateful.

  “Scared,” I whisper from behind slack lips and closed eyes that refuse to open.

  I hear rustling, and then the bed dips before his arms envelop me, pulling me into the safe, comforting strength I’d reviled just moments ago.

  “Sleep, babe. I’ve got you. I won’t let anything hurt you.”

  ***

  I spend the next week alternating between regret and feeling vindicated about pulling away from Chase and a deeper connection. The morning after our…showdown I guess, he’d woken up, showered and dressed in a three-piece charcoal business suit that I still drool over just remembering.