The Blackhawk Boys, Tome 1 : Spinning Out

Extrait offert par Lexi Ryan

(Source : http://www.lexiryan.com)

Mia

I wake to a thump and sit up in bed. It’s three in the morning and my room is dark, but there’s more thumping. Someone’s kicking the wall between my room and Arrow’s.

My heart clenches as I picture him on the other side having wild sex with some girl. Maybe some old fuck buddy came over after I went to bed. Hell, for all I know it’s Gwen visiting her stepson’s bed.

I dismiss the idea as quickly as it comes. Arrow can’t tolerate Gwen, and he may have changed, but he’s never been one to fuck girls he can’t tolerate.

There’s another thump, then I hear Arrow’s voice. “No. Don’t.” Rough, choked words. And more thrashing. “Why?”

I throw off the covers and run to his room, opening the door without a thought.

I don’t know what I expected to find. Arrow is sleeping alone, tangled in his covers.

Frozen, I stare at him. Moonlight spills in through the open curtains and casts shadows across his face. Sweat glistens on his forehead, and his face twists in a grimace.

I step closer. I could touch him, but I shouldn’t. “Arrow?”

He kicks. His arm flies out and hits the wall.

“Arrow,” I repeat, louder this time.

He grabs my hand at the wrist and flies upright in bed as his eyes pop open. He’s breathing hard, and anguish is all over his face. For a minute, I feel like I can see inside him—all the terrified, vulnerable parts he hides from the world. I can see inside him and I know exactly what I’m looking at, because my dreams make me feel the same way.

“What are you doing here?” he asks in a low whisper. The anger from earlier is gone from his voice.

“You were having a nightmare.”

His eyes rake over me—greedy, hungry, desperate. “What? No red lace nightie? Or do you save that for my dad? Like mother, like daughter?”

I gasp before I can stop myself. Why doesn’t he just punch me? His fist to my face would hurt less than those words.

I yank my hand away, spin on my heel, and walk toward the hall. As I reach for the knob, he’s behind me. He slams his palm against the door, and it closes with a violent thunk. “I’m sorry,” he whispers behind me, his breath on my neck. “I’m sorry I said that.”

I keep my gaze on his hand. Arrow has the best hands. Big, strong, beautiful. And the first time they touched me . . .

I squeeze my eyes shut at the unwelcome memory, and shrug. “I need this job,” I say slowly. “Your stepmother has made it clear that she’ll fire me if we can’t get along, and we both know your dad will fire me if you ask him to. But please don’t. Please don’t screw it up for me.”

“Mia,” he says softly, and I feel him step closer, the heat of his body against my back. The rough pads of his fingertips brush the hair from my neck, then his breath, hot and sweet, tickles against that tender skin.

I’m frozen, divided between the wish for his kiss and the fear of it. “I’m sorry,” I whisper. Hot tears roll down my cheeks, and I don’t know what I’m apologizing for. For taking this job? For going with Brogan that night when Arrow asked me not to? For entering his life to begin with?

Yes. All of that. More. “I’m so sorry.”

He drops one hand from the door and the other from my neck. My body grows cool as he steps away.

“Stop apologizing,” he says.

I turn the knob and head to my room. I don’t look back.