The Winner Takes It All (A Something New Novel) (20 page)

And he wanted the truth.
Needed
her to tell him the truth. Which bothered him on some visceral level.

Three steps ahead, her fine ass swayed in too-tight jeans as she stalked through the bar like she owned the place.

He’d never thought it would be like that with her. Yes, they’d had chemistry, but hell, how could he have guessed? With all those severe business suits she wore, he’d thought she’d need coaxing. That he’d have to work to make her mindless and crazy.

But it hadn’t been anything like that. She’d been as crazy and wild as he was.

He shuddered, remembering the way she’d orgasmed almost violently.

The way she came, it would haunt him forever.

She tossed her hair over her shoulder and every guy in the room took notice. Who could blame them? Despite her anger, everything about her had loosened. From the wild tumble of waves swinging around her shoulders, to her swollen mouth and rich-girl walk. It transformed her from classically beautiful to drop-dead gorgeous.

Their hungry gazes ate her up and Shane wanted to tattoo something across her forehead so they’d stop staring.

The unfamiliar possessiveness beat at his chest, worrying him. He’d never been jealous before. It must be the case of the blue balls riding him hard. That his predicament was entirely of his own making wasn’t lost on him.

A guy wearing a trucker’s hat leered at her breasts and the need to stake his claim on her overwhelmed him. He caught up to her and wrapped an arm around her waist, tugging her close. “Don’t think this is over, Cecilia.”

A sharp intake of breath. “I’m mad at you.”

“I’m mad at you too.” He scraped his teeth over her neck and she shivered. “But it doesn’t change a damn thing.”

She swung around. Those storm-blue eyes flashed, and she planted her hands on her hips. “We need to stop this.”

She was right, and he didn’t care. He gave her his most cocky grin. “Have you ever screamed when you came before?”

She narrowed her gaze. “You’re twisted.”

He curled his hand around her neck, wanting to make sure every guy in the place knew she was his. “You’re just figuring that out now?”

She shook her head, as though he was too exasperating for words, before pointing to the right corner of the bar. “I spotted everyone over in the back booth.” Then she turned on her heel and walked away.

Although still hard as a rock, his mood improved marginally and he followed at a much slower pace. The crowd parted to reveal the group from the house, with the addition of Charlie, who must have gotten off work. Cecilia strode through the people with her head held high, her back straight. Like if she walked regally enough no one would question where they’d been for the last thirty minutes or why she was marked by him in all ways but the one that really mattered.

Everyone at the table watched them with some sort of shit-eating grin on their face.

Chin still tilted high, Cecilia stopped in front of the table. Shane crowded behind her, close enough to feel the warmth of her skin.

“Charlie,” she said, her voice sounding like smoke. “I haven’t seen you in forever.”

Charlie raised a brow at him then gave Cecilia a slow, long appraisal. “You’re looking . . . well.”

“Thank you.” She gestured, her hand flying in a circle in Charlie’s vicinity. “You’re all grown up.”

“So are you,” Charlie said, giving her a wicked smile. “Although you were considerably neater the last time I saw you.”

Cecilia shrugged. “We got lost in the woods.”

“Is that what we’re calling it these days?” Charlie asked.

“All right, that’s enough.” Shane’s brain heard Charlie’s tone as flirting, even though the rational part of him hovering in the background said he was overreacting.

Cecilia glanced over her shoulder and frowned before beaming at the table. “Can we scoot in?”

The girls only stared at Cecilia in wide-eyed shock.

“Pretty please,” Cecilia said.

Shane frowned then remembered all the drinks she’d consumed.

There was a sudden flurry of movement and everyone squeezed in tighter.

Cecilia slid into the booth next to Charlie.

Mitch shook his head. “Now can I give you shit?”

Shane crossed his arms over his chest. “For what?”

Mitch cocked a brow before slipping his arm around Maddie.

Shane eyed the microscopic spot next to Cecilia, far too small for even Sophie to fit in, then pulled over a chair from another table and sat down.

Everyone looked at him. Except Cecilia, who paid elaborate attention to the drink menu.

He raised a brow. “What?”

“Oh, nothing,” Penelope said, always one to smooth over an awkward situation.

James got that sly tilt to his mouth. “So, Cecilia, are you going to dance again?”

“No,” Shane said, practically growling the word.

All heads swiveled toward him.

Of course, he had no control over what she did, but Cecilia’s dancing had already given him a heart attack, and he didn’t think he could take any more.

Cecilia glowered and threw her hands up in the air. “For the love of God, what do you have against dancing?”

Feeling uncomfortably irrational, Shane narrowed his eyes. “I’ve got nothing against it, except when you do it.”

“What’s wrong with the way I do it?”

Nothing at all. Not a single damn thing. She danced like sin and sex. He’d about lost his mind when he’d spotted her on the dance floor. Those hips an erotic sway, breasts bouncing, her cheeks flushed and healthy. And then that guy dared to touch her, and all common sense had fled.

Shit. He dragged his hand through his hair. He had to get this jealousy under control. Later. He gave her his most menacing glare. “I left my bat at home.”

“You’re not any fun at all.” She puffed out her lower lip in a pout that made him want to bite her.

Instead he turned to his sister and her friends. “All right, what in the hell did you give her?”

Maddie pressed her lips together and Sophie looked away.

Gracie smiled innocently. “Jägerbombs.”

“Jägerbombs!”
Well, that explained the perkiness.

“Yeah, so?” Gracie shrugged. “She’d never had them before.”

James frowned, looking stern and disapproving, causing Gracie to huff, “Don’t look at me like that!”

Charlie winked at Cecilia. “So, Jägerbombs, huh?”

“They were super good,” Cecilia said.

“I can see that.” His lips quirked, and he ran a finger down the red spot Shane left on her throat. “You’ve got a hickey on your neck.”

She waved him away. “Oh that. Forget that and tell me what you’ve been up to.”

Shane resisted the urge to growl at the other man for daring to touch her and said drily, “Is it time to go home yet?”

Fifteen minutes later everyone was piled into various cars and Shane slid into the backseat next to a fading Cecilia. She curled up like a kitten, resting her head against the car door. The parking lot lights streamed in through the glass, highlighting her patrician bone structure. Long lashes drifted closed as she yawned.

Mitch pulled out of the parking spot and the car was silent for a good five minutes before Maddie peered back at him from the front seat. “Is she asleep?”

He reached over and jostled her but she didn’t stir. “Yeah.”

He gritted his teeth. She belonged nestled next to him, not leaning away from him. The distance was just another reminder that she belonged to some other guy.

“So,” Maddie said in a slow, deliberate tone.

“Maddie, I’m not in the fucking mood.” The night was catching up to him, making him cranky.

Mitch studied him through the rearview mirror of his BMW. Not a cheap car among those Rileys. Although, in fairness, he wasn’t exactly driving around in a beater anymore. “What’s your plan?”

“Plan?” The back of Shane’s skull started to ache and he rubbed the back of his neck. “I have no plan.”

Maddie glanced back, her gaze on Cecilia. “She’s different around you.”

“I think you’re confusing me with the Jägerbombs.” Last he’d had her alone she’d been furious. A heaviness settled into his gut.

Maddie shook her head. “You’re wrong.”

He sighed. “It doesn’t matter. When she goes back to Chicago she’ll be the Cecilia we’re used to, just like she always did. This is summer Cecilia.”

Mitch’s brow furrowed. “Who told you that?”

“Sam,” Shane said. “And Gracie.”

The car fell quiet and he stared out the window, watching rows of cornfields zip by. It was dark and fatigue had him questioning.

What exactly was he doing?

It wasn’t like him to ignore the truth. And the truth was Cecilia was marrying another guy. She might not talk about him. Might not wear his ring. But he was out there, and at the end of the day she belonged with him.

His fingers tightened into fists as he looked at her in the darkened vehicle.

Why did she have to be this way? To think he used to tell himself he’d have a million things to pick her apart over if he really knew her. She wasn’t anything like the woman he’d built up in his head.

And he was more tied up in her than ever.

They pulled into the driveway and he attempted to rouse her, but she lay limp, her breathing heavy.

“She’s out.” He opened the door and slid from the vehicle, jutting his chin toward the front door. “I’ll carry her.”

Maddie ran up the stairs, the keys jangling from her fingers interrupting the still quiet of the night.

He hauled Cecilia into his arms and she promptly burrowed close. Those long, tapered fingers of hers twining around his neck as she laid her head against his chest. In silence, they walked into the foyer and up the stairs. A minute later he laid her on the bed. She moaned in protest and tried to pull him down with her, but he untangled himself and straightened.

Mitch and Maddie stood in the doorway watching him, and he glanced pointedly at the door. “I’ll take it from here.”

Maddie opened her mouth as if to speak, but Mitch put his hand on the back of her neck and she nodded. A second later the door was closed and they were alone.

Against the innocence of the white and lavender quilt, Cecilia looked somehow wanton, her hair spread out on the pillow in a tangled heap, her cleavage spilling from her top. He pulled off her shoes before rolling her onto her back and unzipping her jeans. He nudged her, gripping her waistband. “Lift up, baby.”

In the darkened room she lifted her hips and he slipped her pants down her long, long legs. He skimmed his hands up her smooth thighs. He wanted to lick every part of her.

Possess every part of her.

“Shane,” she said, her voice a sleepy whisper.

“Let me get you out of this shirt. Can you sit?”

She let him pull her up but remained rag-doll limp as he stripped the cotton T-shirt from her body. When he laid her back down on the mattress, he ran a hand over her flat belly.

“Did you call me baby?”

“Yeah, I did,” he said, waiting for some sort of sassy rebuke.

“I like it,” she murmured, surprising him. “You call the other girls honey.” She rolled to her side, folding her hands under her cheek.

He pulled down the comforter, working it under her hips so he could cover her. When she was tucked in, he stared at her face, soft in the moonlight. He ran a finger over her silky skin.

She wasn’t his.

She burrowed under the covers and let out a soft sigh.

He stood and left her untouched to sleep alone in his cold, empty bed.

Chapter Fifteen

Cecilia woke with a start. Skin clammy, her stomach rolled. Sweat beaded at her temples as a hard wave of nausea crashed through her.

The Jägerbombs had betrayed her.

She jolted straight up. Another wave swelled, threatening to overwhelm her.

Oh no.

A shiver.

She was going to be sick. She bounded out of bed only to realize she wore only a bra and panties. A vague memory of Shane helping her out of her clothes, his hands on her hips and a brush of a finger over her cheek.

Desperate, she stumbled around the room, looking for a shirt to cover her.

Another violent clench of her stomach.

There was no more time.

She bounded from the room and ran down the hall to the bathroom, slamming the door and falling to her knees just in time to empty her stomach.

Her belly gave a savage heave just as the door opened and someone walked into the small room.

“You’re sick,” Shane said, stating the obvious.

She retched into the toilet, waving frantically and yelling into the porcelain bowl, “Go away!”

A wrenching surge left her gasping.

“Poor thing,” he said, his tone way too amused. He closed the door, leaving her blessedly alone to wallow in her sickness.

Only he returned a minute later and covered her with a cotton robe, helping her into the sleeves.

The fabric slid over her skin and she was equally grateful and horrified. She started to say thank you, but another wave crashed over her and she once again had her head buried. The expression
praying to the porcelain gods
finally made perfect sense.

Off to her left the water turned on, and ten seconds later Shane was sitting on the edge of the tub.

She wanted to die of humiliation. She was a sweaty mess, hovered over a toilet making disgusting noises. “Privacy!”

Of course, he ignored her. Instead of leaving, he gathered her hair, banding it between his fingers, while her stomach lurched again.

A cool towel fell across her neck and he pressed a palm over the washcloth to hold it close.

God, it felt so good. She shivered. It was pure heaven on her hot, sweaty skin.

Heaven turned into hell as another wave hit her.

It went on for what seemed an eternity, but was probably mere minutes. An endless, embarrassing cycle of sickness. Shane stayed by her side the whole time, refreshing the washcloth with cold water from the tub, that strong steady hand on her neck.

She dry-heaved, wanting to kill herself.

His broad palm rubbed down her back, so warm and strong. “That’s a good sign.”