Dangerous Boys and Their Toy

Chapter Nine

Brenna swallowed, lifted her chin, sent him a proud glare before turning to Cameron beside him. “I’m going to grab a shower, if that’s okay.”

Thorn resisted the urge to wince when Cam shot him a nasty glower, then reached out to cup her shoulder in tender concern. “Sure. There are towels stacked up on the counter. Plenty of shampoo and soap. Lotion is under the sink, if you want some after your bath. As my father’s people always said, ‘Mi casa es su casa.’”

“Thanks. I’ll make myself at home. Temporarily. I don’t want to intrude for long.”

Cam opened his mouth to rebut her but Brenna had already gone, her shoulders in a dejected set, long hair brushing the small of her back.

As soon as a soft snick revealed the door shut behind her, Cam turned to him with a look that could have melted diamonds. So the even-tempered detective had a temper. Fine time to find that out… Aw, hell. It didn’t matter what Cam said. Thorn didn’t think he could feel any worse than he’d already made himself feel.

“Don’t say it,” he warned Cam.

“Oh, I’m not only going to say it, I’m going to carve it into your forehead, prick. Did you hear yourself? ‘I want to fuck. You and the good detective can continue your love fest after the condom is off, I’ve zipped my pants and found the door.’” Cam’s voice dripped incredulity. “Could you make her feel any more like a whore? She’s spent her whole adult life having trouble climaxing because Curtis hurt her and she feared abandonment, then you announce you’re going to leave her in the most crass way possible. She all but tells you that she cares about you, and you crap all over her and tell her she’s just a fuck?” Cam backed up. “Unreal, asshole. Totally unreal.

“I’ll take care of her from here on out,” Cam went on. “I’ll call you when we find Curtis. You can take him in and get your money and go back to sleeping with a different woman every other night until you’re too old to attract a woman or catch some damn disease. Either way, you’re going to die alone, and clearly, you want it that way. Guess what? I’m going to help you. Get the hell out.”

The detective turned to leave.

Stunned and silent, Thorn stared. Cam had always been somewhere between understanding and easygoing. Thorn knew he was high-strung and came off like a motherfucker. He didn’t mean it, exactly. Mostly he didn’t give a shit about anything or anyone. But when he did… Well, he didn’t really know how to deal with it, much less how to show it. Or worse, how to talk about it.

Trying to dissect your feelings with a crack-addict, drug-dealing father and an absent brother hadn’t taught him a lot in the sensitivity department.

The truth was, Brenna did matter. More than he was comfortable saying. Admitting it would give her the power to hurt him, and he liked kink, but pain wasn’t his thing. But the thought of leaving her to Cam and never seeing her again—leaving Cam himself—was as welcome as a vise for his balls.

“Wait,” he rasped out. “I…” I what?

Cam whirled back, and still Thorn didn’t know what to say.

“Spit it out,” Cam demanded.

But Thorn couldn’t. He swallowed, stared, searching for words in a suddenly empty head.

“You want to stay?”

Thorn scowled against a hammer of pain but nodded.

God, Cam could read his mind now too? He hated feeling so damn…inadequate and bottled up. Cam continued to look at him as if he was a lower life form, damn it. It wasn’t like he was having a party in his own fucking skin.

With a roar, Thorn turned and punched the nearest door. It hurt like hell, and he shook his fist. But the truth was, he still hurt inside worse.

“You break my door, I don’t care. You’ll be fixing it. But if you stay and you break her heart, and I swear I’ll rip you a new asshole—for starters.”

Thorn took a deep breath. Another. There was a beast…something very angry that was awake and running amok inside him. He’d fucked up, he knew it. What he didn’t know was how to fix it. It frustrated him to fury.

“I don’t want to break her heart, damn it. I… She started talking about feelings and shit. A part of me was happy, you know? The other part is just… Aw, hell. I panicked. I gave her my standard answer whenever any woman gives me the ‘I want monogrammed towels’ look. Truth is…” He shuffled his feet, took in a deep breath and went for broke. “I could be with you two more. I wanna be. But I suck at relationships.”

“People get close and you get scared you might have to let someone see the real you, that you might have to be reliable for someone. That you might have to give yourself.” Cam’s eyes narrowed. “You’re afraid of true intimacy.”

Bingo. Damn Cam. Perceptive son of a bitch. Dissecting his hang-ups was somewhere between uncomfortable and having a dozen rusty nails hammered into his dick.

“And your point is?” he quipped. Telling Cam he was right would only make Thorn feel worse.

“If you want to stay, fix it. Learn how to be honest about your wants and feelings with yourself and us. Otherwise, get the hell out. But decide what you want before Brenna is out of the shower, because I’m not letting you anywhere near her again unless you promise not to hurt her. She’s a one-of-a-kind woman who deserves more than a fuck and run.”

After that little speech, Cam turned and walked toward the master bedroom and Brenna, shutting the door behind him. The detective had been a good guy, which, Thorn supposed, earned him the right to watch the water slide over her soft, pale curves. Maybe help her out of the shower, towel her off, then do whatever he damn well pleased.

While Thorn…he’d be standing here with his dick in his hand and alone for freaking ever if he didn’t get his shit figured out in a hurry.

“Hell.” Thorn rubbed the back of his neck.

Why didn’t Cam just ask him to bend over and take an enema? It wouldn’t be any less personal. Of course, the bastard was also right.

Leaving was tempting but not an option he wanted to take. He liked what he’d found here with Brenna and Cam more than he didn’t want to endure the pain that would come later. Normally, confronted with this shit, he’d inhale twelve beers, head to a strip club and pick up Ms. Right-for-the-night. Or go crack a few skulls when bringing in the bail-jumping trash to Tucson’s finest. But neither of these ideas were going to help him confront his inner demons.

Which only left him one option—he was going to have to rip off the scab and hope he didn’t bleed to death.

* * * * *

Cam eased open the door to the bathroom and called in, “Everyone indecent?”

“Come in,” Brenna called as she shut the shower door, towel wrapped around her wet hair—and everything else bare as the day she was born.

“Damn, I’m too late. I was going to offer to wash every square inch of your body with soap. Twice at least.”

She sent him a soft smile and wrapped another towel around her body, but Cam could see she was still upset, and none of his lame joking was going to undo the hurt of Thorn’s mean-spirited words.

Seeing her here in his bedroom, in his kitchen, napping on his sofa all seemed so…natural, it was unnerving. But he liked it. A lot. And hoped like hell that Thorn’s standoffish crap hadn’t made her skittish.

“What a swell offer.” She grabbed his hands and put them around her waist, doing her best to put on an unaffected act, though he knew Thorn had emotionally bruised her. “Want to practice now, sans soap?”

Cam eased his gun onto the nightstand, then wrapped his arms around her waist and drew her against his body. She was a little thing, all of five feet two or three. Probably weighed around one ten. But in that little body was such a big heart. How many people in her situation would have gone to a therapist and paid beaucoup money to learn to tell their father to fuck off? Instead, she came back to the very man who’d hurt her to try to understand him, to get to know him. And after being dumped by her fiancé, she didn’t give up on love either. She just kept going, not pausing to lick her wounds. Cam respected that, loved that about her.

“I’m never going to turn that offer down.”

Her sunny smile went straight between his pecs, piercing deep…and a bit lowe

r. The latter didn’t surprise him. But feeling her in his chest was a stunner. His grandmother had always told him that someday he’d fall in love quickly and irrevocably. It was the way of his mother’s people. But the Apache were a superstitious lot, steeped in some old beliefs, despite the fact they loved technology. His father’s people…they just married and had babies like mad. But his parents were still happily married and living in Albuquerque. They’d made an interracial marriage work, so…