Beautiful Scars Part 13

Sighing, he dumped the bags on the counter. "If you were her, how would you feel about it?"

"Well, it wouldn't happen."

He scowled. "What?"

"You two are s.c.r.e.w.i.n.g, right?"

Marc pa.s.sed a hand over his face. "Ilona, you're such a romantic. I don't know how Miguel can possibly hope to keep you happy, considering what a soft, poetical-type heart you have."

"Ha! I knew it. And that's why it wouldn't happen. Marc, you're hotter than h.e.l.l and if I wasn't married to Miguel and s.h.i.t-faced in love with him, I might have a few wet dreams about you, except...well. I know you. You either frustrate the h.e.l.l out of me, or you freak me out. And if it wasn't that getting in the way? I'd have to deal with the crazy b.i.t.c.hes who always manage to find their way into your life. So...it wouldn't happen. But..." She sighed. "Chaili's known you most of your life, right? You're probably more of a real person to her."

"I am a real person," he said sourly.

"Not to a lot of people," Ilona said quietly. "They put you on a pedestal and worship you. And when you don't act like the G.o.d they think you are, they demonize you. Chaili just sees you. I just see you. That's not a bad thing, pal. Look, I get what you're asking and I suspect Chaili is having some money problems otherwise you wouldn't be all gung ho to get this done now. But this isn't complicated. She did a kicka.s.s job on the site before and you want her handling it again. Just whatever you do...don't go giving her handouts. That's not good."

Scowling, he stared at the groceries. He'd almost bought some stuff for her place. Thinking about those mostly bare shelves had p.i.s.sed him off. Bothered him. Badly. "What's a handout?"

"Giving her money. Paying her bills. That sort of thing."

He groaned. Paying off her d.a.m.n medical bills was exactly what he wanted to do. That, and maybe buy her some f.u.c.king groceries...but he couldn't do that, either.

"Okay, so if I hire her and like offer bonuses and s.h.i.t, that's fine, right?"

"Yes." Ilona sighed, but there was something mocking, teasing in the sound. "You see, you're expecting her to work for it, right? You're not going to hire her to do a job and then think it's okay to let her do a c.r.a.ppy one and still pay her, right?"

Heading back out the garage, he grabbed the rest of the bags. "You've seen her work, right? Chaili-she's the perfectionistic type who sent me like twenty different mockups before we settled on the last redesign? She doesn't do c.r.a.ppy."

"Okay, then. You're hiring her to do a job and you're expecting her to do the job, right?"

"Of course I am." Kicking the door shut behind him, he dumped the rest of the bags on the counter. Maybe he'd make extra. If he made extra and just b.i.t.c.hed about hating to have leftovers or something...that could maybe work...

"Now you're following. Paying her to do a job she's capable of is different from just giving her money."

Rubbing the heel of his hand over his chest, he turned and stared out over the water.

"How bad are things?" Ilona asked, her voice hesitant.

"Bad. But this is between us."

She sighed. "I figured that much. Good luck...you can do this. You aren't anywhere near as lousy with talking to people as you used to be. And when they matter, you're usually pretty decent."

Decent, he thought, shoving the phone into his pocket.

That wasn't enough for Chaili.

She deserved more than decent.

Chapter Ten.

With her gym bag, a spare set of clothes and her laptop stowed in the back of Marc's car, Chaili rested her elbow on the door and studied the man behind the wheel.

He was nervous, edgy about something. He'd been that way ever since he picked her up, but now that they were in the car, it was worse. Her heart twisted as she tried to figure out the cause behind his nerves. Was he tired of this already?

That didn't seem right.

If for no other reason than because her heart was still in overtime from the kiss he laid on her when he picked her up ten minutes earlier.

But something had him worked up.

If there was any one thing she knew about Marc, it was that he moved.

He was never still.

When he drove, his hands tapped out a beat on the steering wheel. He paced. He sat at his piano and played.

When he was still, it was because he was thinking, nervous...or p.i.s.sed.

As they made the drive to his place, it seemed as though all that wild, chaotic energy had been sucked inside him. She didn't think he was p.i.s.sed. So he was either nervous...or thinking about something really hard.

If he was thinking, whatever it was had to be pretty heavy. He clutched at the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles had gone bloodless. Smoothing down her skirt, she crossed her legs and tried to figure out if she should ask him what was up or just let it go.

Maybe- "I need to ask you something. It's not personal, but I'm probably going to blunder and f.u.c.k it up, so can you cut me slack when I do?" he asked, shooting her a look before checking the mirror and cutting over into the next lane of traffic.

Chaili propped her head on her hand, eyeing him narrowly. "You know, you never used to worry so much about blundering with me. What's the deal?"

"I wasn't f.u.c.king you before," he muttered. "It's a little bit different after I've had your sweet p.u.s.s.y around my d.i.c.k. Because now I'm worried I'm going to p.i.s.s you off and I won't get to have it again."

Stifling her groan, she clenched her thighs together. "Well, you've already pointed out it's not personal, so I a.s.sume it's not about us having s.e.x, right?"

"No." He started to beat his fist on the door. "It's about my website. Why in the h.e.l.l didn't you tell me you weren't working on it anymore?"

Something twisted in her belly. Absently, she toyed with the fringe on her wrap skirt. Anything to keep from looking at him. h.e.l.l, when she'd lost that account, it had almost gutted her, and not because of how she felt about him. That had been the biggest chunk of her income and if she hadn't lost that account...well, she had. It didn't matter.

"What do you mean why didn't I tell you?" she asked. "It's your site. Why should I tell you what's going on with your site?"

"Because I didn't know," he said, his voice sour. "My ex-manager, Lily, is the idiot who did all of that. I just figured it out when I was checking something on the page. I wanted to talk to you about some updates and s.h.i.t and I noticed the logo down at the bottom. It ain't yours. And the d.a.m.n site sucks. I should have figured it out before now. Why in the h.e.l.l didn't you say anything?"

One of the many knots, one of those ever-present aches that had been in her chest, unclenched...unfolded. He hadn't dumped her. Yeah, it wasn't a break-up, but she'd felt like she let him down when he stopped using her service and it had hurt. Badly.

Swallowing, she shrugged. "It was a business thing, Marc. I just figured you knew." h.e.l.l, Lily had told her Marc knew about it. Her words... Marc knows he needs a little more...sophistication in his designer, but he doesn't want to hurt your feelings. Look, we can be grown-up about this or you can continue to cling to him. It's your call.

"I didn't f.u.c.king know."

"You swear too much, slick," she told him, fighting the urge to squirm in the seat. Lily had lied to her. Lied to her and cost her the biggest account she had, made her feel like a fool...of course, she'd been so tired and sick at the time-the chemo had been taking its toll.

Closing her eyes, she pressed her hand to her forehead, trying to think past the headache creeping up on her.

"What the f.u.c.k does it matter how much I swear?" he demanded. He shot up the exit ramp and then had to hit the brakes to avoid ramming the car in front of them. "Why didn't you talk to me about this?"

"Because I thought you knew what was going on," she said again. "It's your website. You've always kept a hand in things and I thought you knew."

"I'm telling you I didn't. h.e.l.l, it's still your design." He paused and then said, "Your design but it looks awful."

"Yes." She smiled, crossing her arms over her chest. "It does. The idiots doing it don't know what in the h.e.l.l they're doing. They're trying to smash a bunch of s.h.i.t together with no idea whether or not it works together, and it's lousy."

"You're taking it back over."

She slid him a sideways look. "You know, generally when somebody wants to use my services, they put in a request. Ask for a quote. Give me an idea of what they want and then we talk it out and see if we can come to an agreement."

He grunted. "You already know the sort of style I like, but the entire thing needs to be trashed. I'd rather you just put a placeholder thing up-whatever they call it-and start from scratch. And if you get it done within a decent amount of time, I'll even throw in a bonus. I'm tired of looking at that eyesore."

"A bonus?" she asked. Narrowing her eyes, she studied him. "How much of a bonus?"

"s.h.i.t. I dunno." He drummed his fingers on the wheel as the car edged up the ramp. Finally, he was able to turn and as they took off down the road, he named a figure that almost had her jaw dropping.

"Are you serious?"

That...what... d.a.m.n it. She licked her lips. "Marc, that's a little steep for a bonus."

It would take care of a few of those bills, she thought, dazed. Not all of them, but a couple of them. She could maybe stop living on peanut b.u.t.ter and ramen noodles.

She could buy some new clothes...

And she'd be taking advantage of him. "That's too much for doing a job you're going to pay me for anyway," she said, her voice weaker than she'd like to admit. d.a.m.n it, she needed that money.

"Not if you get it done in the time frame I need it. We start working on the new CD in six weeks and I'd like to be able to post updates and stuff to the website. I keep getting told I need to update how the social media s.h.i.t plays into the website and I figure you can do that too. I can't do anything with that disaster of a site I've got now. If you can get it done in time to launch it in...maybe five weeks?"

"Five weeks?" she squeaked out.

She thought it through-she could do it. She'd have to work it in around her current workload, but if she didn't accept any other projects in the meantime and if she stayed up a little later...maybe. Maybe. And a.s.suming he was a little more communicative than he normally was when it came to this sort of thing. "Ah, you said you want it redesigned. Just what did you have in mind? And are you going to be around for me to show the ideas to? I can't send you fifty emails and wait days for answers."

His hand curved over her thigh and her breath skittered out of her lungs as he squeezed. "Oh, I'm going to be around plenty," he said, his voice a low, s.e.xy growl. He glanced down at her skirt, eyed it and then grinned, flipped it open and slid his hand up, up, up...ahhhh. She gasped as he pulled her panties aside and flicked his finger over her c.l.i.t.

"Weren't we talking...um...business stuff?"

"Yes." He grinned, his teeth flashing at her. "You're doing the website. I'm paying you a chunk of change to get it done fast. Business talk done... We can talk personal stuff now. I'm going to play with you until you come right there in that seat."

Chaili clutched at the armrest, turning her head and staring blindly out the window. They were speeding down the road, but by no means were they the only car out there. "d.a.m.n it, Marc, other people can see..." She shuddered as he circled her entrance.

"Hmmm. Should I stop?"

As he went to pull his hand away, she grabbed his wrist. "No."

Blood rushed hotly to her cheeks.

"Pull your panties down," he said.

She swallowed, looking around.

"n.o.body is paying attention, Chaili. The windows are tinted. Besides you'd have to be in a truck or something to really see in and be able to tell what you're doing...what I'm going to do." He pulled his hand away, slowly, his fingers trailing over her thigh. "But if you don't want to take them off..."

Groaning, she wiggled around until she could hook her fingers in the waistband of her panties, lifting her hips as much as the seatbelt would allow, working them down. Once she had them off, she went to stuff them in her purse but Marc held out his hand. "I want them."

She glared at him.

He continued to wait patiently.

Swearing, she pushed her panties into his hand. "We still haven't had that talk," she mumbled.

"Have I done anything outside your limits?"

"No." She almost wished she could say otherwise-wished she could maintain a little bit of distance between them, just to protect herself, because it would be that much easier when the end came, but she couldn't. It was like she had no brakes with him.

"You know what will make me stop, right?"

Chaili nodded, biting her lip and sinking back into the seat. When he pushed the panel of her skirt aside, she hissed out a breath.

Marc smiled, his lids drooping. "You're so d.a.m.ned wet for me. I love it."

A truck blasted by.

She sat up straight, squeezing her legs together, and then gasped as it pushed Marc's fingers deeper inside. "Oh," she whimpered.

"Hmmm. Chaili...I want to listen to you come."

He stroked her, whispering to her all the while. And the entire time, he drove on down the road, navigating through traffic like he wasn't s.c.r.e.w.i.n.g his fingers in and out of her p.u.s.s.y. "Ride my hand," he growled. "Take what you need."

She cried out, clenching her thighs around him, and rocked up, pushing one hand between her legs and stroking her c.l.i.t, mindless for want of him.

"That's it, baby...come for me."

She came apart and it was pure torture not to watch.

But listening to her, feeling it, was a sweet seduction of its own.

She was panting, still gasping for breath a few minutes later when they pulled onto the road that led to his house. Those last few minutes had flown by in a blur and now all he wanted to do was get her to his place so he could have her.

The hard part had gone by easier than he'd thought.

He had a feeling Chaili wasn't telling him something, but he was going to bide his time there. Once she started the work and he paid her some money upfront, he'd probably pry a little. But he wanted her comfortable enough to start working on the site first.