Reckless Heat: A Hostile Operations Team Prequel Page 6

  It isn’t a Corvette though. Julie appears a second later, looking excited. She’s had at least two beers by now, maybe three.

  “It’s him,” she says. “It’s Matt.”

  My heart kicks up. “Where?”

  “He just got here. He’s driving his daddy’s Escalade.”

  And, boom, my evening changes. I go from disappointed to elated and terrified all at once.

  Maybe I need a drink after all.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  MATT

  *

  The old man came home tonight. I was getting ready to go out when he staggered in with a giggling bimbo who clearly came from a strip club. Gotta hand it to the dude, he knows what he likes.

  They fell on the couch in the family room, giggling and kissing. When I walk in to see what the racket is, the woman—a bleached blonde with fake tits and a spray tan—glances up. Her eyes widen as she stares at me like I’m a gazelle and she’s a starved lioness.

  “Who’s this?” she purrs.

  My father peers around her. “My son,” he says. And then he adds, as if seeing where this is going, “He’s a prissy little faggot.”

  I’m not, but what’s the sense in arguing?

  “Too bad,” stripper woman says. “He’s cute.”

  “Get us a drink, boy,” the old man says. “Make it a double.”

  I seethe the whole time but I go over to the sideboard like a good Southern gentleman and fix two bourbons in highball glasses. Then I walk over and set them on the coffee table. The old man grabs his and hammers about half of it back.

  The woman makes a show of daintily sipping hers while eyeing me. “Too bad,” she murmurs. “Too, too bad.”

  “Is there anything else you need?” I ask. So fucking polite. It’s a wonder I don’t explode with all the rage I feel inside.

  “Where’s your sister?”

  “I think she’s with Grandma, sir.”

  I know Christina drove to Baton Rouge. She probably won’t come back for days. Who the hell could blame her?

  The old man swings his head to look at the stripper, who’s batting her eyelashes and acting dainty. “You ready to party, sweetheart?”

  “Oh, Beauregard, you know it.”

  Jesus.

  The old man looks at me. “Go on and get the fuck out, boy. Don’t come back tonight.”

  “Yes, sir.” As if I intend to.

  I hesitate at the door, but then I pick up the keys to his Escalade. My father can’t drive a stick shift, so I leave the Corvette and take his Caddy. Maybe I should have left it there, hoping he got a wild hair and drove off into the bayou tonight, but the truth is I don’t hate him that much.

  I definitely hate him, but if he fucking killed himself in a drunken wreck, then everything I’ve planned will get fucked up as Christina and I go into limbo while the estate is settled.

  Nope, not happening. I take the Escalade and drive out to Billy Davis’s place, breathing easier the entire way. One week, I remind myself. One fucking week.

  It’s after dark when I arrive, and the party is in full swing. I get out of the Escalade and let the sound of laughing voices trickle down like a soft rain. My heart still hurts, but I know this will help me feel better. I just need a few drinks, a soft girl in my arms, and I’ll be set.

  I’ll spend the night here, so drinking isn’t a worry. Not everyone will because of parents, but some of us—those with parents who don’t give a shit, the ones who are eighteen, the ones who’ve told the perfect lies about why they aren’t coming home—will stay the whole night and maybe into the next.

  I stride toward the house and a chorus of cheers goes up when I step into the light. The old man might not be happy to see me, but these people are.

  “Fucking A, Matt Girard’s here,” someone says. Someone else pushes a beer into my hand.

  “Now this party’s getting started!”

  “Who’s got the weed?”

  “Light that doobie up.”

  “None for me,” I say, holding up a hand.

  I haven’t smoked pot in two years now, not since I knew I wanted to go to West Point. I’m not taking any chances.

  I pass inside where the noise level is higher than outside. Half the senior class is here, and a lot of the juniors as well. I search for the one junior I want to see, even while I tell myself I don’t need to go there.

  I don’t know why I called her last night, except that hers was the voice I most wanted to hear. After we hung up, I drank a little more whiskey and then fell asleep. It wasn’t long after we hung up, either. I don’t know if hearing her voice helped me sleep, or if I was finally just tired enough to let it happen.

  “Hey, baby.” Jeanine puts a hand on my arm. She’s no doubt thinking we’re a thing again since I fucked her the other night. But that ship definitely sailed a long time ago. I dated her for three months, we broke up, got back together for another month, and then broke up again.

  It didn’t help that I was dating her right after the Candy crisis. I’d have dated anyone who spread her legs for me as regularly as Jeanine did, no matter how much drama and maintenance went along with the deal.

  “Hey, Jeannie.”

  “I’m so glad you made it tonight. Been thinking about you since the other night.”

  She dips her eyelashes down shyly, but it’s all a ruse because Jeanine isn’t shy.

  “Cher,” I say, “I’m glad you had a good time. But you know this isn’t going anywhere, right?”

  She blinks at me. I don’t think she expected that, though she should. I’m fucking leaving, and I’ve made that pretty clear to everyone and anyone who will listen.

  “I never said I wanted it to.” Her voice is prissy and I know she’s lying. Maybe she thinks we’ll have a long-distance romance when I’m gone, or maybe she thinks I’ll change my mind about going.

  Not happening.

  I smile at her as if I take her words at face value. “That’s good, baby, because I’m not coming back for a long time.”

  I don’t know what she says after that because I suddenly spot a tall, dark-haired girl across the room. Someone moved and revealed her standing there, like the parting of the Red Sea or something. She’s in profile to me, her long hair hanging down to her ass, her breasts curving out from her body. She’s wearing a silky-looking top with tiny straps and low-slung jeans that hug her hips.

  I don’t know if someone nudges her or if it just happens, but she turns her head and our eyes meet. I feel a jolt down into my groin. I don’t know what she feels, but suddenly she breaks eye contact and slams back the drink she’s holding.

  Then she sets the cup down and starts walking toward me.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  EVIE

  *

  Courage. That’s what’s in the cup. The second Julie tells me Matt is here, I go straight over to the bar and pour a shot of Jack Daniel’s into a red Solo cup. I don’t know what I’m going to do with it since I don’t even like whiskey, but the second I see Matt, I slam it back.

  My eyes are watering and I want like hell to cough, but I manage not to do it. The whiskey burns its way into my stomach and sends fire through my veins. It also dulls the edges of my fear.

  I can’t believe I’m going to do this, but I am. I thought about working my way up to it, talking to Matt, waiting for the right moment. But I know me and there will never be a right moment. I just have to say it.

  And if I’m going to say it, I need courage. That’s what the whiskey is for. Damn, but that stuff burns.

  Matt watches me approach. He isn’t alone, but that doesn’t stop me. I see Jeanine walk away, which fills me with giddiness. Some of the guys are there with him, but he isn’t paying any attention to them. He’s watching me.

  “Hi, Matt,” I say when I reach him.

  “Hey, cher.”

  “I started to think you weren’t coming tonight.”

  His eyes seem haunted for a moment. “Had a delay. It’s all good now.”r />
  Then he smiles and a warm feeling fills me. Damn, I love his smile.

  “I want to ask you something,” I say, my heart beating a million miles an hour. Now or never, girlie. Got to do it. He’s the one. The ONE.

  “Sure, ask away.”

  I glance at the guys standing near. They aren’t listening to us, or even watching us, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to blurt it out. Oh God, my stomach is roiling and my heart is beating so fast I think I might pass out. But I don’t. I swallow. Hard.

  Then I step closer to Matt and stand on tiptoe. I’m tall, but he’s taller. He smells good, some sort of subtle male scent I can’t identify. No overwhelming masculine body sprays or shit for him.

  He tips his head toward me, listening.

  I close my eyes.

  “I want you to be my first.”

  There, I said it. Maybe not the best way I can, but he knows what I’m talking about. He knows I’m a virgin.

  I lower myself and step back. He’s looking at me so fiercely I think I should turn and run. But I don’t. I just stand there, staring back.

  He reaches for my hand, clasps it in his. And then he leads me out the door and down the steps. I don’t ask where we’re going. I don’t dare speak. I follow him to the Escalade.

  He opens the passenger door, but instead of letting me get inside, he backs me up against the seat, his body penning me in. His arms are on either side of me, trapping me. I gaze up at him, unsure where this is going, still scared half to death and certain I crossed a line I can never retreat back to.

  And then he takes a step closer, his body pressing up against mine. He’s warm, solid, and I shiver with excitement. One hand comes up, and then his fingers are on my cheek, sliding into my hair, cupping my head.

  “Evie,” he says, his voice soft.

  I put my hands on his chest, surprised to find his heart beating fast too. How can Matt be nervous?

  “Kiss me,” I blurt. Because I’m afraid this is going to end, that he’ll step away any moment or lecture me about waiting for the right guy.

  He stands there, looking like he’s warring with himself, and my heart sinks to my toes. I’ve done it now. I’ve gone too far. At least, thank God, he’s leaving town next week and the humiliation will have time to blow over.

  “Fuck,” he whispers. And then he cups my cheeks in both his hands and lowers his head.

  When his mouth touches mine, I’m so surprised I gasp—and that gives him the opportunity to slip his tongue into my mouth.

  Oh my God, it’s heaven. Everything I’ve ever wanted. Ever needed. He’s giving it to me right now, years’ worth of fantasies and dreams.

  My fingers curl into his shirt as his mouth continues to taste mine. I’ve been kissed, of course I have, but not like this. Not where I think my heart is going to burst from my chest or that I’ll die of happiness right here and now.

  His hands slip from my face, down my shoulders, around my body. He pulls me in tight and kisses me like I’ve never been kissed before. It’s everything I’ve imagined and more.

  When he finally stops, when he gently takes me by the shoulders and sets me away from him, I’m woozy. Drunk on his kiss. Stone in love with this boy. I will do anything for him right this minute. Anything at all.

  “Get in the car, Evie,” he says tightly.

  I obey without question. He goes around and gets in the driver’s side. Then he starts the car without a word and backs up so he can turn around and start down the long drive.

  I have no idea where we’re going or what will happen now. But I know that everything between us has changed.

  Forever.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  MATT

  *

  No way in hell am I taking Evie’s virginity. When she sashayed up to me with those sweet hips swinging and a soft smile on her face, I was mesmerized.

  When she stood on tiptoe to whisper in my ear, I smelled the hint of whiskey on her breath. And then she whispered the words that rocked my world.

  I want you to be my first…

  I got hard immediately. I wanted, more than anything, to kiss her. Instead, I took her hand and led her to the car, intent on putting her in it and taking her home. Straight home. No way did Evie need to be at that party, drinking shots and asking guys to be her first.

  A part of my brain told me she wasn’t going to ask anyone else, that it was something she wanted me—and only me—to do.

  Goddammit, I can’t do that to her. I can’t take what she so sweetly offered.

  Why not?

  Someone’s going to be her first, why not me?

  No.

  If I hadn’t gotten weak and kissed her before putting her in the SUV, I wouldn’t be thinking like this. But I had kissed her…

  And holy fuck, what a kiss it was. Her tongue against mine, our breaths mingling—it feels different with Evie than it does with anyone else. I don’t know why. Or maybe I do.

  Maybe it’s our history and this sudden change from best friends to sizzling attraction.

  “Where are we going?” she asks, and I glance over at her.

  My heart skips a beat. “I’m taking you home.”

  She doesn’t say anything at first. And then she crosses her arms. “Take me back to the party.”

  “No. You need to go home, Evie.”

  “Don’t you fucking dare,” she spits out. “You don’t get to tell me what to do. It’s not your call. If you don’t want to be my first, then take me back to the damn party. I’ll find someone else.”

  My stomach clenches tight at those words. I flip on the blinker and whip onto a road that I know leads into a field where I can park the Escalade and no one will bother us. I don’t mean to do it. I really don’t.

  But now I’m driving down a dirt lane, between the farmer’s crops, until I reach the clearing I’m looking for. I put the Escalade in park and sit there with both hands on the wheel. Arguing with myself.

  What am I doing? Why am I here? This is Evie, little Evie, and I need to take her home right now.

  “Am I that ugly?” Her voice is whisper-soft, near to breaking.

  I look at her, at those beautiful eyes in that beautiful face, and I feel something snap inside me.

  “You aren’t ugly, Evie. You’re perfect.”

  She snorts. “Says the guy who won’t take what I want to give.”

  I reach over and tuck her hair behind her ear. I shouldn’t touch her, but I need to.

  “Is this really what you want?”

  Her eyes sparkle with unshed tears as our gazes meet. She sucks in a breath, heaves it out. “Would I ask you if I didn’t? I trust you to do it right.”

  Oh sweet Jesus.

  “Do you understand what you’re asking?”

  She clasps my hand and presses it to the underside of her breast. It’s soft and round and my dick gets hard again.

  “I think I get what this entails,” she whispers.

  Oh Lord, fuck me, I’m doomed. What am I doing? But I can’t stop touching her. I don’t want to stop touching her. Something about being with Evie makes me feel good, and I don’t want that to end. Asking me to quit is like asking me to stop a boulder from crashing down a mountain after it’s already rolling.

  I reach over and drag her across the console, fusing my mouth to hers. She tangles her fingers in my hair and kisses me back, our tongues sliding together over and over again.

  I don’t know how long we kiss, but it’s a long time. I’m hard, so damn hard, but kissing her is sweet. Part of me is dumfounded at this turn of events.

  This is Evie, my Evie, my friend. And I’m planning to strip her naked and use her body the same way I used Jeanine and Tiffany and all the others.

  My conscience pricks me now and again, but I rationalize what I’m doing by telling myself if it isn’t me, it will be someone else.

  I don’t want it to be someone else. I want it to be me. I can make it good for her, make her first time special.


  And, yeah, it’s totally selfish of me to justify myself this way. But I do. Why shouldn’t I be the one? Why shouldn’t I take what she’s offering me?

  I slip my hands beneath her top and run my palms up her silky sides. She shudders. I drag her shirt up, breaking the kiss long enough to slip it over her head.

  I drop it on the passenger seat and reach for her bra as I find her mouth again. My fingers tangle in her bra strap, and I unsnap it on one try.

  I feel her flinch, but then I gently pull it from her shoulders and drop it. When I break the kiss to look at her hovering over me, I feel a jolt all the way to my toes.

  Fuck, she’s gorgeous. Her breasts aren’t small, but they aren’t huge. The nipples are tightly beaded, upturned, and I cup her breasts gently, sliding my thumbs over the peaks.

  She gasps and bites her lip, tilting her head back and thrusting her breasts toward me. What comes next is obvious to me. I lick a nipple and Evie moans. The sound is like a whip to my need, spurring me on.

  But this isn’t how I want to do this. I wish we had a bed, but we don’t. We do, however, have a backseat. I want to lie on top of her, suck her nipples and taste her pussy, before I thrust my cock into her body.

  Sitting up is becoming more uncomfortable as my dick grows harder and my jeans don’t stretch to provide more room.

  “Evie, honey,” I say, and she opens her eyes, gazes down at me. Her eyes are glazed with pleasure, and I’m glad to see that. She’s trembling, but it isn’t with fear.

  “Don’t stop, Matt. Please don’t stop.”

  “I’m not going to. But we need to move to the backseat, baby. I need room for all the things I want to do to you.”

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  EVIE

  *

  I’m out of my depth, floating on a sea of sensation and desire, not knowing what’s coming next but wanting it so much. No one ever put his mouth on my breasts before. I had no idea it could feel so thrilling, so amazing. It’s as if there’s a direct line between my nipples and the little button of pleasure between my legs. Every lick of Matt’s tongue makes that button tingle and tighten—and makes me ache so much I don’t think anything can ever soothe me.