Drilled: A Blue Collar Bad Boys Book Page 2

“Who is Mr. Darcy?”

  I roll my eyes. “Pride and Prejudice." He looks at me blankly. "Jane Austen. None of that rings a bell?”

  He shakes his head. “Nope.” He stops me from getting up. Just thrusts one well-muscled arm out. “There is nothing wrong with you.”

  “I just need to be alone. I’ll be fine.” Is it wrong that something about his forceful hold on me makes me press my legs together? It’s…hot. Maybe my alone time will include some…me time.

  “Bring the movie out here. We’ll watch it together.” I start laughing. “What?” he asks. He looks so serious. And seriously confused.

  “I don’t think it’s your kind of flick.”

  “Bring it out.”

  “You’ll hate it.”

  “If you like it, I’ll like it.”

  “No, you won’t. But okay. I’m feeling just mean enough to make you sit through it.

  Chapter Three

  GRADEN

  I fucking hate it.

  Everything about it. It’s boring. I can’t understand what they’re saying. Nobody bangs anybody and there are no car chases.

  But Rebecca is curled up on me asleep, and I’m not moving.

  Maybe ever.

  Everything about her is soft and pleasing to me. I want to explore every curve with my hands and my mouth. See if she tastes as sugary as she smells.

  I got it bad man.

  And she's cherry.

  Shit.

  I don't know what to do with that information. I know what I want to do with it. She thinks it's an anchor, but to me it's a beacon. A homing signal. I want to be her first…and her last. That's the scary part.

  She deserves a guy who'll marry the shit out of her and keep her pregnant and happy. Take care of her. Be her partner. Me? I don't know how to do that. There's a reason I work on a fucking oil rig in the middle of the goddamned ocean, man. I never wanted hearth and home and whatever goes along with it. I like knowing my life can fit in a rucksack if I need it to. I don't want a wife or kids or a house.

  But I wish I did. I wish I could step up into that life and take my place next to Rebecca. Haul her ass to the altar. Keep her in bed until I plant enough of my seed in her to make her a mama.

  My cock sure as hell likes the idea. But that monster needs to take a fucking time out.

  She stirs a little in her sleep. She's got on plaid drawstring pajamas and a T-shirt. No bra. Fuck. I need to stop looking at her tits. But they're so pretty. Soft, round melons that make me ache. I can see the faint outline of her nipples, and that's crossing the line, so I tear my gaze away and it lands on a strip of skin exposed between her shirt and pants. It looks so soft. Lickable.

  Rebecca snuggles deeper into me and I feel the tree trunk in my pants grow even harder. This isn't right. I shouldn't want her so much. She's not trying to be sexy—she's just being herself. Just trusting me. I'm the biggest asshole.

  "Why are you scowling?" Her voice startles me as she sits up, stretching her neck. "Your foot hurting?"

  "No, sorry. Just deep in thought."

  She yawns and stretches, her shirt riding up a little more. I'm doomed. "Sorry I fell asleep."

  "Nothing to be sorry for."

  She cocks her head at me, her gaze inquisitive. "Are you mad at me?"

  "No."

  "Really? Because your jaw is rigid, and there's a little tic thing happening in your mandible and you practically growled at me when you said no."

  I take a deep breath. "I'm pissed at the asshole who made you feel bad. That's all."

  She pulls her legs crisscrossed, getting comfortable, and I feel this weird feeling of pride that she's settling in to talk to me. Like we're friends. Like this could be what we did every night if we always lived together. Her sitting cross-legged on the couch looking at me like I had all the answers.

  A guy could get used to it.

  Don't.

  "You should help me," she says.

  "Help you what?"

  "Figure out what I'm doing wrong. With men. Like a class…Real Man Seduction 101. You could teach me how to entice a guy like you."

  Holy fuckballs.

  "What are you talking about?"

  "Well, obviously, I'm not doing something right. I need a guy's perspective. Someone who will be honest with me and steer me the right direction. I want to know how to get and keep the interest of a guy like you."

  "A guy like me?"

  She nods. "Yeah, a guy like you." She looks at me and pales. "You have total resting bitch face or you're pissed. Why is this making you mad?"

  I try to relax my face, but she's mistaken about the anger. I'm not mad. I'm feeling about ninety percent caveman right now. I don't want to scare her or make her uncomfortable, but I want to pull her under me and take her. Hard. It's bad enough she just asked me to help her, but help her get with another guy? Every cell in my body is rebelling like it's wrong. Like she belongs to me and me alone. And like I should show her with my cock who she belongs to.

  I take a deep breath and will my muscles to loosen the fuck up. "What is a guy like me?"

  "Are you fishing for compliments, roomie?" She tosses a pillow at me. "Well, aside from being sexy, you're confident. In charge. You know how to take care of things. You're a real man. You're honest, straightforward. You don't ask women out and then text them when you change your mind. When I'm with you, I feel safe, like nothing could hurt me. Like you'll take care of me. That's how I want to feel."

  That's how she wants to feel with another guy.

  But shit, she thinks I'm sexy.

  "I think you deserve a guy better than me, sweetheart. I wasn't raised right. No role models. A series of strange men who would pretend to be my buddy for the three weeks or so they could handle being with my mom and then they were gone. She was…unstable. And some of those guys…let's just say the sooner they left the better. She wasn't good at picking winners. It wasn't until your brother came along that I even had a real friend."

  Her face goes all soft. "I didn't know that. I guess we never talked about family before."

  "Not much to say." I don't want her pity, that's for sure. But I do like all her attention focused on me like this. She has a way of making me feel like a better person than I am.

  "My folks are great. A little…old-fashioned and always more broke than not. But Cam and I had good examples. I want a relationship like theirs." She sighs. "But I can't seem to find the right guy."

  "You're setting your bar too low. That's your problem with men. It's not you; it's them. You're dating the wrong ones, is all."

  She shakes her head. I want, God do I want, to show her how amazing I think she is. I don't have the kind of words she needs. The ones she deserves. Someone who has a better education than I do is who she should be looking at. Someone who has better manners and can guide her through society better. A guy who'll give her all the babies she wants. Someone who knows how to love a woman.

  And whoever that asshole is, I hate him for being what she needs. What she's really looking for. I hate him for not being me.

  "I'm dating the guys who ask me out. If they are the wrong ones, then I need help finding the right ones to ask. So, how does a girl like me get a guy like you interested?"

  I need off this couch. Out of this room.

  "You just need to be yourself, baby. That's all. You don't need to do a damned thing to be desirable. You already are."

  She's turtling up because she doesn't believe me. I can see her withdrawing. Her body curls into itself as she pulls her knees up and hugs them. "I get it. I shouldn't have asked for your help."

  "Becks, look at me."

  She does and, fuck, I'm lost. Those sweet baby-blues are watery. I can't let her cry. Not when all she needs is for me to help her find her confidence.

  "Sweetheart, you are beautiful. You told me you think I'm honest, so believe me when I tell you that. I won't ever lie to you. You're safe with me. And if you need something from me, you will get it. Always. Whatever you want."

  "Whatever I want?" She gets this mischievous grin I haven't seen before. "Then what I want is for you to help me seduce someone just like you. Tomorrow, we're going to the mall and you're going to help make me over."

  "The mall?" I fucking hate the mall.

  "You said anything. Besides, you're supposed to get a little exercise for that foot every day. We'll get some walking in, and then you can prop it up the rest of the day."

  "What do you want at the mall?"

  "An outfit or two that doesn't make me look like a kindergarten teacher would be nice."

  "You are a kindergarten teacher." Why doesn't she want to look like one? I like the soft clothes she wears. The way she always looks ready for a hug. Like she isn't afraid of getting mussed up.

  "I want to entice a man into bed, Graden. I need him to look at me like I'm a sex-toy made for pleasure, not a frumpy teacher."

  Fuck. Me.

  Chapter Four

  REBECCA

  As we walk through the mall, I'm sort of pretending that Graden is my boyfriend. Just imagining what it would be like to have him as mine. I know it's a fantasy, but I indulge anyway, noting how women eye-fuck him as we go by.

  He doesn't seem to notice them. Which makes me wonder what it takes to get him to pay attention. What does he find attractive?

  "Underwear," he says, stopping in front of a lingerie store.

  "What?" I ask. Had I asked him what he found attractive out loud? God, I need to be careful what I think if I can't keep my thoughts in my head where they belong. He would be so embarrassed if he knew how often I pretended he was mine. How when I made him dinner, I'd fantasize about what it would be like to be married to him. How I think about what it would be like if he didn't go to the guest room at ni
ght but instead carried me into the master suite like it was our room. Our bed.

  "That's where you should start."

  I have to rewind to remember what we were talking about before my mind drifted to my mental marriage with the man least likely to even see me as a woman, much less a woman he wanted to carry to bed.

  "Start what?" I ask.

  He looks at me like I am crazy. "You wanted a makeover. You should start with underwear."

  "What's wrong with my underwear?" Has he even seen my underwear?

  Is he blushing? "Nothing. I mean, I haven't seen your underwear, but I'm sure there is nothing wrong with it. But if seduction is on your mind, then start here."

  I sigh. This store is definitely not the kind that caters to girls with my figure. "Men can't see what underwear I'm wearing before they ask me out. I need to get them to notice me first. That's my first mission."

  I start to walk again, but he grabs my hand and keeps me there. "The underwear isn't for them; it's for you," he says. "If you know you are wearing sexy panties underneath your clothes, any clothes, you'll feel sexier. And that is what attracts men. Your sweet little secrets are for you to know, and him to be dying to find out."

  "Oh," I say, dumbly. He's still holding my hand, and I want him to never let it go. "Is that real? Or did you make it up?"

  Because the words coming out of his mouth don't sound anything like the Graden I've come to know over the last few years. At all.

  "Honestly, I read it in the Cosmopolitan at the doctor's office yesterday. The issue was from 2013, but I think it's still valid."

  I can't stop the giggle that bubbles out.

  "What?" he asks, pretending to be defensive. "Can't a guy read a magazine?"

  We both start laughing, and then we stop and have this awkward moment where we have dopey smiles on our faces, but nothing is funny anymore. And I like seeing this side of him. Awkwardly Smiling Graden is endearing. And if I'm being honest, makes him all that much hotter.

  I guess it's time to admit to myself that I don't want a guy "like" Graden, I want Graden. I know he sees me as a little sister. I'm not his type at all, which I guess is why we're here. So I can figure out what his type even is. Not that I could change his mind about me. But maybe there is a Gradenesque model out there somewhere. And he's just waiting for me to stumble into the lonely bar he's waiting in. Maybe Cosmo is right, and I need the underwear to trick myself into thinking I'm sexy.

  Nevertheless, this store is intimidating.

  "I'm not sure, Graden."

  "Come on." He pulls me inside.

  A too-beautiful-to-be-a-shopgirl woman greets us, and I immediately want to slink out. Her name tag says Leslie, and when she asks how she can help me, my tongue ties. I don't know. I don't want to be here, so helping me would include showing me the quickest way out of the store.

  She's eyeing Graden like a snack, but pauses on our still linked hands. I expect her to give me a catty reply or look, but instead, she gives me a secret wink.

  "My girlfriend wants to buy something that will knock my socks off," he tells her when I still haven't answered. I inhale sharply at the word "girlfriend" and wonder how it would feel if he wasn't pretending. "But all I know about lingerie is what I think will look good on my floor."

  Oh, God. The mental pictures I'm having are indecent. Greeting Graden in a corset when he comes home after a long, hard day. Graden ripping lace off my body. His body covering mine while scraps of expensive lingerie litter the floor around our bed.

  I catch his gaze and worry that he can see my thoughts. But other than his normal, intense stare, all seems okay.

  Leslie the supermodel shopgirl smiles at him. "You two just made my day. This is my favorite part of the job. I always wanted to be a personal shopper. We have some things you will both love." She shoos Graden over to the little couch set up for waiting and pulls me into a beautiful dressing room in the back, snagging a clipboard and tape measure on our way.

  I'm trying so hard to be cool, but I think I might burst into tears. She's going to want to undress me to measure me and bring me things to try on. How can I expose myself to her when she's so perfect and I'm so very not?

  "Hey," she says, noticing my reticence. "What's wrong?"

  I look around the posh room made to look like a fancy boudoir. If this were really my life, it would be perfect. But I don't have a fancy boudoir body, and the man waiting for me isn't my boyfriend. And it isn't fair that Leslie is so beautiful and nice. I exhale. "I wish you were about twenty years older and a size twenty-two instead of two," I admit, skipping the rest.

  "Oh, honey, no." She sits on the chaise and pulls me down next to her. "You are gorgeous. Stop comparing yourself to other people. You have awesome curves, and that man out there obviously thinks so, too."

  "We're not…we're not really a thing. He's not my boyfriend, really."

  Her perfectly arched eyebrows raise. "Maybe not yet, but my gosh, the way he looks at you made me feel butterflies."

  She's nice. Doesn't look crazy. Doesn't seem stupid. And probably has way more experience with men than I have, but there's no way she's right about that. "How did he look at me?"

  "Like he wanted to drag you into his cave. Seriously, I think he's got it bad for you."

  I shake my head. "He thinks of me like a sister."

  She purses her lips and shakes her head like I'm the one with a screw loose. "No, honey. No, he doesn't." She stands up, dragging me with her. "Let's get you down to your panties and bra so I can get you some measurements. Then you are going to spend an obscene amount of money on scraps of lace to decorate that man's cave floor. Believe me, we are going to bring him to his knees."

  Chapter Five

  GRADEN

  We've been in this shop for a long ass time.

  When the salesclerk, Leslie, joins me on the couch, I'm prepared for her to hit on me, despite her thinking I'm here with my girlfriend. Something about me seems to attract the kind of woman who doesn't care. But instead, Leslie pats my knee in a very nonsexual way. "I think Rebecca needs your advice."

  "My advice? I don't know anything about lingerie. That's sort of your department."

  "Maybe advice is the wrong word. I think she needs encouragement. She's feeling a little…well, she just needs her man in there for a minute to build her up. She looks amazing."

  My whole body flushes hot at the thought of going back there and into her dressing room. "I'm not sure your other customers would appreciate some guy going back there."

  "This is our dead time. I can make sure nobody bugs you for at least fifteen minutes, if you know what I mean?"

  I pull the collar of my T-shirt away from my neck because it feels like it's choking me. It's been bad enough knowing she was back there naked and putting on all the sexy clothes. But I never expected I'd get to see her in those sexy clothes. And now Leslie thinks I should bang her in public, too. "She's, ah…too shy for that." But the things I could do to her in fifteen minutes in a dressing room if she really were mine.

  Leslie shakes her head. "She needs you, Graden. Go to her. Make her feel good." She taps her watch. "Just try to keep the volume down."

  I don't want to embarrass Rebecca by opting out of the boyfriend role and telling Leslie the truth. I knew Rebecca was feeling unsure of herself when we came in, which is why I pretended we were together in the first place. Backing out now, when I know she's feeling less than confident, according to Leslie, would do more damage, so I get up.

  The walk to the dressing room feels like the Green Mile, and I'm already getting hard thinking what I might find in that room. I cough lightly and tap on the door. "Becks? Uh, Leslie sent me back here. You need anything?"

  She opens the door and my heart stops.

  So much skin. So much soft skin.

  She pulls me in by my wrist and leans against the door after she closes it like she's blocking the world out. It makes the room feel more intimate knowing she wants me on this side of the door. With her and not with them on the outside.

  She bites the corner of her lip and shrugs. "Leslie means well. She thinks we're really together, so…I didn't know how to tell her not to drag you back here. I'm sorry."