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  Trust Me

  Grahame Claire

  Trust Me (Free, Book Two) Grahame Claire

  Copyright © 2020 Grahame Claire

  All rights reserved. No part of this book can be reproduced in any form or by electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without the express written permission of the author. The only exception is by a reviewer who may quote short excerpts in a review.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Editing And Proofreading:

  Marion Archer, Marion Making Manuscripts

  Karen Lawson and Janet Hitchcock, The Proof is in the Reading

  Cover Design:

  Hang Le, By Hang Le

  ISBN: 978-1-951878-03-0

  For those who have the urge to run.

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Chapter 49

  Chapter 50

  Chapter 51

  Epilogue

  Enjoy this book?

  Bonus Scene

  Book Stuff

  Acknowledgments

  Also by Grahame Claire

  About the Author

  Chapter One

  Baker

  “Damn it, Baker. If you don’t hurry up, I’m getting in that shower with you.”

  The warning came from the other side of the bathroom door, low and feral.

  “Door’s locked. And the more you distract me, the longer I’ll be.” I smiled to myself, leisurely rinsing the conditioner out of my hair.

  “I can’t be late again or I’ll be fired.”

  “What do you need a shower for anyway? Three minutes after you get there, you’ll stink like motor oil.” Somebody should bottle that stuff. Or maybe it was just the combination of Holt and grease that had me in knots.

  “Three . . .”

  “Five more minutes. That’s all I need.” I bit my lip to stifle my laugh.

  “Woman.”

  Scratch that. Ten more minutes. To get myself off and bask in the aftermath.

  “Grease Monkey,” I called back. My face hurt from the smile splitting it in two.

  Over the noise of the shower, the door knob rattled a few times. He wasn’t coming in. Holt was too much of gentleman for that. I’d blatantly strolled into the kitchen a few times in only a towel, just to see if I could rile him. Every damn time, he looked everywhere but at me and scampered like his ass was on fire.

  Crack. Split. Wham.

  I jumped at the sound of destruction. Through the steam of the glass shower, a shadow stalked toward me.

  Holt yanked open the door, threw me over his shoulder, soap suds and all, and hauled me into the bedroom.

  “You jackass. I’m soapy.”

  He tossed me onto the center of the bed. I bounced twice, opened my mouth, then snapped it shut at the heat in his eyes as they roved down my naked body.

  “I warned you.” He spun and disappeared into the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind him. It boomeranged off the broken frame and opened wide.

  I stared at the space in stunned disbelief. Had he really just taken me from the shower? Anger spiked, sharp and deep, propelling me off the bed.

  I stomped into the bathroom and threw open the shower door. “Oh, hell no.”

  I grabbed his wrist and tugged. He stumbled, caught off guard, and steadied himself on the wall behind me. Pinned between the tile and his solid body, I stopped breathing. Fury blazed at me while I tried to pretend like I hadn’t just seen the most perfect ass God ever sculpted.

  “I wasn’t finished,” I snapped once I figured out how to breathe again.

  “Then you should have been more considerate.” His breath was hot as he spit the words at me.

  “You can’t go breaking down doors and dictating how long I shower.”

  “I wouldn’t have to if you didn’t take all damn day.” His shoulders rose and fell in fractured movements.

  I pushed at this chest. “It’s still my turn.”

  “The hell it is.” He didn’t budge, leaving his hand braced above my head.

  I hadn’t let go of his wrist like I was welded to him. At the realization, I released him and immediately felt the loss.

  He inched his face closer to mine. My lips tingled, swelled in anticipation for him to touch me. Thunder ricocheted inside my chest.

  Kiss me.

  Kiss me.

  Kiss me.

  Horror filled me at the thought, my eyes growing wide.

  Don’t kiss me.

  Don’t kiss me.

  Don’t kiss me.

  I panicked. He was my roommate. We’d both already crossed a line this morning. I’d been too blinded with rage to realize it until now . . . when I was breathing in his air with his body pressed against mine. And we’re both completely naked. Shit.

  “You don’t seem like you’re in a hurry now.” I’d meant it to come out as an insult. Instead, I might as well have asked him to come back to bed with me.

  Eyes locked.

  Chests heaved.

  Something thick and potent swirled between us, so strong it was suffocating.

  My head fell back against the tile. The irritation disintegrated to a near non-existent level. What was left of me felt exhausted and weak.

  He eased closer until our lips were mere millimeters apart. “Tomorrow and the next day and the day after that. Every day from here on out. I go first. You feel me, Easy?”

  “Easy?” I shoved at him with all my strength, but it was useless. “How dare you say such a thing to me? You don’t know if I’m easy or not.” Just like that, the anger was back, exploding from my pores.

  He grinned and lowered his arm to keep me caged as I tried to duck underneath. “Easy On The Eyes.”

  The first time he’d called me that I’d wanted to crawl in his lap and beg him to do again. Something about the w
ay he said it made me want to purr and rub up against him, and I freaking hated cats.

  “I’m going to be late for work,” I huffed. I had no idea what time it was and, at this point, wasn’t sure I really cared.

  “Totally your fault.” He planted his hands on my hips, and I jolted from the fire that shot through me.

  With ease, he lifted me and set me outside the shower on the plush bath mat. He shut the glass door, and I stood there dripping wet and staring.

  “I need some privacy,” he called, drawing GO AWAY with his finger in the steam. “And you left me no hot water.”

  I let out a scream of frustration and got right back into the shower with him. I plowed around him, careful not to touch his wet skin as I muscled my way under the water to wash off what was left of the soap clinging to me.

  He slipped around me until he monopolized the stream of now lukewarm water. It cascaded down his body. I was rapt as he slicked his hair back with both hands, this my own personal men’s body wash commercial. Except live and in the flesh was so much better.

  How many times was he going to stop me in my tracks in one morning?

  I fought the urge to open my dry mouth and gulp down gallons of water. I couldn’t move anyway. Holt reached around me and grabbed the soap, running it over every plane of his body as my eyes followed along. Forget my own honey body wash. I was so using his soap tomorrow.

  “Thought you were gonna be late?” he drawled, rinsing the lucky suds off.

  One found resistance as it slid down his pec to his nipple. How had I missed how tan he was? No farmer tan, either. Did park rangers chop wood without their shirts? In the fantasy that had popped into my mind they did. It was easy to picture his sweat-slicked body when he was soaking wet right in front of me.

  That’s how he got those thick biceps. Hard labor. Or rock climbing. Definitely rock climbing. Not the gym.

  I hummed my approval as my gaze drifted down cut abs to the defined V—my field of view blurred until blue eyes met mine.

  Holt kept a firm grip of my chin. “I said I thought you were going to be late.”

  I shrugged one shoulder, darting a quick glance between us. Couldn’t see a darn thing past his chest. And I’d almost gotten to the good part.

  “Get enough of a look?”

  Heat flooded me. This morning had not gone to plan at all. Not that I’d had one, but if I had, it wouldn’t have been this.

  “Might want to see about getting that door fixed.” His eyes flared a fraction before he strode out of the shower.

  “I thought you were the handyman,” I called after him. Apparently, my voice did still work.

  “I’m expensive.” He sounded farther away.

  “Don’t you dare come in on me in the shower again.” Oh, now I was bold?

  “It’s seven forty-five,” he yelled.

  “Crap.”

  Now I actually would be late, because of that jerk.

  Who had his hands on my naked body.

  Twice.

  What the hell just happened?

  Chapter Two

  Holt

  I’d lost my mind.

  That was the only viable explanation I’d come up with after eight hours under the hood of one car or another. What kind of asshole walked in uninvited on a woman in the shower? One that had up until a few months ago lived in an abused women’s shelter for reasons unknown.

  I dropped the wrench in my hand. It fell to the concrete floor with a satisfying clatter and I rolled out from underneath the 70s model Ford truck.

  “Good as new.” I sprang to my feet and wiped my hands down my coveralls.

  “Um, excuse me.” A lady peered into the garage area through the doorway from the waiting lobby. Her eyes darted around. She clutched the door handle like it was her life line.

  “Hi.” I smiled and strolled around the truck I’d been working on. “Can I help you?”

  “My-my brakes are smoking.” She hadn’t released the door handle yet.

  “You parked in the drive?” I lifted my chin in that direction. She nodded. “Let’s go take a look.”

  Once we were outside, sure enough her right front brake was smoking. I squatted down by her tire and inspected it. “Any grinding?” I asked.

  “No. Just this.”

  “Pretty sure your calipers are locking. We replace that and she should be good as new.” I patted the tire before I straightened.

  “You mean I don’t need a new set of brakes and rotors?” Now she had her purse strap in her fist. I hated how uncomfortable she seemed.

  “From what I see, nope. We can replace just the one, but it would be better to take care of both.”

  “How much is a caliper?”

  “Rough guess? About two hundred bucks.”

  Her eyes bugged out. “They were going to charge me over eight hundred down the street.”

  No wonder the woman was nervous. Most people didn’t know what was what when it came to their cars, but it was wrong to take advantage of them.

  “Why don’t we go inside? I’ll work up a quote and see how quickly we can get the parts.”

  * * *

  The bell above the door jangled when I opened it. I held it for her. She stared at me like I was the most bizarre thing she’d ever seen. She shook her head again. Weird.

  I gestured for her to step in.

  Ed was behind the window.

  “The lady needs a caliper on a 2014 Explorer,” I said.

  She lifted a brow in surprise.

  I pointed toward the window. “Ed here will help you. I’m going to take a look at that other side and see if it’s okay. Locking calipers normally puts stress on the braking system but can also strain the transmission. And then things can get expensive.”

  Ed was generally a grumpy man, but he had his version of a pleased expression on his face. “Get that VIN number, Dixon,” he said as I went back through the door.

  * * *

  “Be here by seven tomorrow,” Ed grunted once the woman left. I’d already gotten a lecture from my boss this morning, before lunch, and during my afternoon water break.

  “No problem.”

  “If you’re late again, we’ll have to rethink this.”

  If I had my own garage, I could set my own hours.

  I’d been working at his shop since I’d decided to stay in New York. He was a friend of my dad’s, but I was the best he had. Ed wasn’t rethinking anything.

  “No problem,” I repeated. “See you in the morning.”

  * * *

  I straightened up the scattered tools around my station, the only one besides Ed left at the garage. I checked my phone. It was after seven. All I wanted to do was go home, take a long hot shower, and imagine a replay of this morning with a different ending.

  But I couldn’t go home. Not with her there. I wasn’t ready to face Easy even if it made me a coward. All I could think about was her naked, wet body. Those perfect breasts. That round ass.

  My dick grew painfully hard just like it had every time I’d let my mind wander today. It was a wonder I hadn’t poked somebody’s eye out with the thing.

  Nope. Most definitely couldn’t go home. I’d embarrass the shit out of myself.

  My finger hovered over my brother’s number. I hesitated. He had a new family. A baby. I couldn’t call him.

  I scrolled to my sister. She was a single mom. Had her own child to take care of. She didn’t have time to go out drinking with me.

  There was only one person left.

  “Hey, Dad,” I said when he answered the phone.

  “Hey, son.”

  I instantly relaxed at the familiar sound of his voice. “You busy?”

  “I’m warming up dinner.”

  “You eat late for an old man,” I teased.

  “I was about to invite you over, but I don’t believe I will.”

  “Are you by yourself?”

  A long sigh filled my ear. “Yeah.”

  “I’ll be there in twenty.
”

  * * *

  “You didn’t cook this?” I pointed at the steak Diane with my fork.

  “Nope. Trish does it better than I do, so I picked it up from the truck.” He wiped his mouth with his napkin. “Why are you avoiding going home?”

  I choked on the swallow of beer I’d just taken, though I wasn’t sure why I was so surprised. My old man knew his children better than we knew ourselves.

  “I thought the new roommate was working out.” He looked at me expectantly, and I took another sip of beer.

  “Yeah. It’s fine.”

  “Fine, huh?”

  “Fine.”

  “How’s work?”

  I paused mid-bite and stared at him. He’d let that line of questioning go way too easily. But I’d take it. Just because I couldn’t stop thinking about Baker didn’t mean I wanted to talk about her.

  “Good. I was a little late this morning. Pissed Ed off, but I stayed late.”

  Dad frowned. “That’s not like you.”

  At least he wasn’t going to lecture me too. I already knew I was a reflection of him.

  “It won’t happen again.” He gave a satisfied nod and returned his attention to his plate. “How’s Mrs. Quinn?” I asked.