Chapter 8
Dax
It’s a warm day, and it didn’t take much convincing to get her to come outside by the pool. Thankfully, I didn’t pack her bathing suit, so we’re both naked while I hold her in my arms in the lounge chair. I run my hand along her side and rest it on her hip while she feeds us grapes.
“How about going to my mother’s house for dinner tomorrow?” I suggest. She tenses, looks up, and laughs in my face. She shakes her head but offers no answer. “You’d rather take me to your parents’?”
“I’d prefer to go home and never lay eyes on you again.”
I rest my chin on her head and roll my eyes. This woman is so damn stubborn. It’s a good thing that I’ve never backed down from a challenge.
“I get one more day,” I state, and she nods.
It takes all of my willpower not to laugh in her face, but I know that if I do, she will see it as a challenge.
And while I love the combative side of her, I’d rather enjoy this version.
At least while I can, because she’s going to be angry at me again soon enough.
I pull her naked body up, put her on top of me, and position myself on my back. My hands slide down until I cup her ass. “How about a ride?”
I wake up first this morning. Cori’s out cold, with a head full of messy hair.
We were naked on top of the covers, and she is nothing but beautiful, soft skin.
I marvel at how sweet and peaceful she looks while sleeping, compared to the terror she can be while awake.
I want all versions of her, though. I welcome it.
But the day has come, and I’m a man of my word. I slip out of bed, but run my hand down her naked back. She doesn’t stir, not even when I bend down and kiss her plump but firm ass.
I tiptoe downstairs, find a pair of shorts, and enter my office. I check her phone, and there’s a text from her cousin,
Selene: I met a man at the wedding.
She adds several shocked faces.
Selene: I’m about to get my back blown out
Eden: SLUT!!
I shake my head at that, but I text back.
Me: Who?
She doesn’t reply, so I toss the phone because I don’t care. I take one of my burner phones and call Gabe, also known as Preacher. He sets up all our accounts and investigates everyone we work with.
“Yup,” he says, before letting out a loud yawn.
“I have a job for you. I need the best private investigator you got. I need someone followed.” That’s all I say. He’s worked for me for years and knows that I give out information as it’s needed. “I’ll need a contact by the end of the day. Preferably a woman.”
“I’m on it.” As predicted, he doesn’t ask questions, and the call ends.
Pretty soon, I’m going to know everything about Cori Lamb.
Everything that makes her tick, but it won’t be from the private investigator.
That will be so I know where she is and who she’s with.
She’s going to be the one to tell me about her.
She comes down and finds me in the kitchen an hour later. She’s dressed and has her duffel bag over her shoulder. She has her hair in two French braids, making her look much younger than her twenty-eight years.
She looks down at her nails and sighs. Finch runs to her and sniffs her legs. She screams, drops the bag, and runs away. My dog, who probably thinks Cori is playing, runs after her. She jumps on my kitchen island with her shoes on.
I sigh and whistle at Finch, who lies down.
“You’ll have to get used to her,” I announce.
“What the hell for?” I don’t answer. The answer should be obvious, but the woman is either being delusional or deliberately obtuse. “Can I have my phone, please? And what are you going to do about my car?”
I pull her phone out of my pocket and put it in her hands. She checks it, and her eyes widen before her cute little nostrils flare. “You answered my texts? Why did you tell my group chat that I was sick?”
“So they wouldn’t go looking for you,” I state as if the answer should be obvious.
She shakes her head and looks to the ceiling. Then she inhales and slowly exhales. “My car?” she asks slowly.
“All fixed.” She says nothing. “With a full tank of gas,” I add. And a tracker, but she doesn’t need to know that. “Would you like some breakfast, sweetheart?”
“No. If you can put that monster away long enough for you to take me to my car.”
As if she understands, Finch stands and growls. Cori shrieks
“I was thinking that maybe we don’t have to end things here.” Her head whips around as my words surprise her. “I’d like to keep seeing you. Take you to dinner. Anywhere in the world.”
She rubs her nails on her shirt almost as if she’s bored by my offer. She looks up and says, “What did you say? I wasn’t listening.”
“Never mind, then,” I respond to her blatant lie.
“I have to get going. I need to stop by and see my mother.” Now, that’s probably true. Cori helps her mother a lot, and that’s from the ramblings of her father, which I hardly pay attention to.
I know her parents were involved in a terrible car accident about eight years ago. Her father recovered, but her mother has suffered from mobility problems since, which were exacerbated by a botched surgery. She’s not paralyzed but uses a wheelchair to get around.
“Of course.” I distract Finch by putting food in her bowl, then, without asking, I lift Cori off the island, take her bag, and carry her to the stairway leading to the smaller house. She wraps her arms around my neck like a pampered princess while I hold her, all the while saying nothing.
I don’t put her down until we get to the car. When her feet touch the ground, I pin her with my body.
“Thanks for the best few days I’ve had in years,” I say close to her mouth. “And remember what I told you weeks ago? You touched me, and now I’m yours.”
“You’re welcome for the best few days,” she replies. “Thanks for proving me right about everything I suspected. You just crumbled like a house of cards.” There’s a smug look on her face, but I don’t argue with her. I’ll erase that look in time, but for now, I’ll let her think she won.
“Is that what you think happened?”
“It is what happened, and it worked out just like I planned.” She narrows her eyes, and she gets that stubborn look. I brace myself for what she’s going to say next. It’s either going to be a blatant lie or an outrageous statement. “I wanted you to take me.”
“Is that the story we’re going with?” I graze her soft cheek with the back of my hand. “I must say, I love how you always pivot and adjust to the situation. I took you right off the street and you adapted.” Our eyes lock for a moment. I inch closer and gaze longingly at her lips.
“And you’re right.”
“Am I, now? You finally admit it.” I squeeze her to me.
“Can you shut up long enough for me to finish what I’m saying?”
“Please continue, sweetheart.”
“I did touch you, but you’re not mine. I’m giving you back. And don’t call me sweetheart.”
“Giving me back to whom?”
She shrugs. “Don’t know. Your bald-headed ass momma? Don’t really care.”
“Don’t talk about my mother. It’s rude. I don’t talk about yours.”
“Mine didn’t raise a kidnapper, did she? Or the head of a criminal enterprise.”
“I bet you can’t prove either of those claims, but what are you going to do with this information?” I ask again.
“I already told you that I’m not going to do anything.
I don’t care that you do illegal shit. Good for you.
I don’t judge.” She shrugs. “But no one else but me figured out it was you, and to have you admit it is like icing.” I want to put icing from her nipples down to her pussy and lick it off.
And I will soon enough. “My point is, Daxton Hunt, that I bested you. I beat you at your own game. I set my trap, and you fell into it.”
“Is that what happened?” I move closer and do my best to keep my smile under control.
“It is.” She juts out her stubborn chin, and I snatch it.
“I’m the one who sets the traps, sweetheart. Remember that, okay. You’re only here because I wanted you here, and you only know what I allow you to know.” I let her go.
“I’d say that too if I had to save face, sweetheart.”
“And you think that someone who knows all about my so-called criminal empire will just be able to walk away?” I lower my voice with each word, and manage to make her shriek when I nip her earlobe.
“You said you wouldn’t hurt me,” she reminds me.
“I would never hurt one so beautiful.” I put my hand under her chin. “I would worship you, though.”
“Yeah, you would, but I’m not into bad boys. It’s fine for Eden, but not me. I’m going to start my own business. How would it look to be associated with someone who deals with dirty money?”
“My money’s clean, sweetheart.” I touch her hip and squeeze it. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You keep telling yourself that.” She pats my cheek, and while I would normally love her touch, it’s condescending. I wrap my hand around her wrist and keep it there. “I’m going to build an empire. A legal one,” she stresses, and I arch an eyebrow. “I can’t be associated with you.”
“I’m a businessman, baby. You would be lucky to be allowed to associate with someone like me.”
“And yet—” she lets the sentence hang while she bats those beautiful brown eyes at me.
“You have a great day,” I say.
“You as well.” She speaks in a professional tone. “Thanks for the sex. Your body is amazing, and not only is your dick huge, but you know how to use it.”
“I can only hope we made a baby. I guess my dirty money would be acceptable for the child support payments.”
She looks stunned by my words, but she breaks out into a beautiful smile before bursting into laughter.
“Can you imagine? Um, no. I never miss a pill, and I’m not having kids. Ever. If by some miracle I did get pregnant, you’d never know.” She pats my cheek again. “It’s been nice, but goodbye, Daxton Hunt.”
She opens her car door, but I wrap my hand around her wrist. When she faces me, I get closer and press my body to hers. I cup her cheek and look into her eyes.
“Can I offer you some advice, Bella?”
“What advice can you possibly give me?” I hold back my smile at her dismissive tone.
“If you’re going to follow a man around, at least have the decency to be ugly.”
“Excuse me?”
I pull her closer, stick my face in the crook of her neck, and inhale.
I look up and lock eyes with her. “Looking like this.” I eye her body up and down.
“Feeling like you do.” My hand cups the curve of one of her hips before I lean down and tap my lips on hers.
“And smelling the way you do.” I inhale the side of her neck again.
“That makes a man like me feel possessive, and when I get possessive, I get ideas.”