Unexplainable Read online

  Unexplainable (Unexpected#2) by Amity Cross

  Copyright © 2014 Amity Cross

  Kindle Edition

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the author, except where permitted by law.

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

  All song titles, song lyrics, products and band names mentioned in this book are the property of the sole copyright owners.

  Cover Design: © Nicole R. Taylor

  Contents

  One – Blair

  Two – West

  Three – Blair

  Four – West

  Five – Blair

  Six – West

  Seven – Blair

  Eight – West

  Nine – Blair

  Ten – West

  Eleven – Blair

  Twelve – West

  Thirteen – Blair

  Fourteen – West

  Fifteen – Blair

  About Amity

  She is madness, sanity.

  She is hell, and paradise.

  To say that I was terrified was the understatement of the century. I was shitting bricks, but I wasn't about to let anyone know, especially not Jake fucking West.

  I stood at the threshold of the tiny storage shed in the outskirts of Melbourne, watching West as he dumped the last of my boxes inside. It really was a pathetic sight seeing all my worldly possessions all packed up. Five boxes, a bed frame and mattress, fridge and a sad looking couch. A suitcase sat in the back of West's rental car packed full of clothes and that was it. My entire life right there in a neat little package.

  "All done, B," he said, sauntering over. West was just as badass as he looked. He liked to wear these tight black T-shirts that left nothing to the imagination and mine was currently running wild with the idea of running my tongue along each pec, then following the outline of his stomach tattoos right down to the part I appreciated most…physically of course.

  I guess it was shallow of me, but right then at that point in time, the thing I liked most about West was his cock. I'd never met a man who could make me come as violently as that man did. Just thinking about it made my lady bits tingle and knowing that we were going to the airport after we were done here didn't help at all. The first stamp on my passport. The first time someone stuck around. The first time I began to care. For a long time it had just been Blair. Now it was Blair and West. My bitch rating had simmered down to a slow bubble and I was a fish out of water flip-flopping all over the fucking place.

  "I know it's a head fuck," West said, reaching out for me. "Packing up everything like this."

  "It's just depressing, I guess."

  "Why?"

  I gestured to the half-empty shed behind him. "Seeing how little of my life there is."

  He frowned and pulled me in for what I assumed was a quick kiss, but he nipped my bottom lip lightly before plunging his tongue deep into my mouth. I'd learnt right off the bat that it was never just a small taste with West. He wanted the whole cake and he ate it in one sitting, too.

  "It's just stuff, B," he said, pulling away.

  "I know, but it's like I'm being bitch slapped by some fucked up metaphor."

  "You promised me you'd try." He sighed, cupping my face in his strong hands. "Cynicism down to a minimum."

  That's the other thing I'd come to realize about West. He said these things and normally I'd be all up in his face calling him a patronizing bastard, but he was right. He always seemed to be right on the money. I'd promised him and the bit that actually scared me was the fact that I wanted to keep it.

  Anyway, when he was all hot and sweaty yesterday from helping me clean out my flat, it wouldn't have taken much for me to say yes. Wanna give me your kidney? Hell yes. Wanna try and give a shit for once in your life? Sure thing, hot stuff…as long as you stick that delicious dick of yours in me. What the fuck was it about sweaty men that got me every time?

  "I'm trying," I whispered, more flustered from my dirty thoughts than anything else. "It's just…"

  "Hard to break the cycle."

  "Yeah."

  There was a loud cough behind us and I turned to glare at the owner of the storage place. He was this little bald man with his beer belly sticking out the bottom of his T-shirt. They sure knew how to employ them in the northwest suburbs. "It's seventy-five a month. Direct deposit." The man looked me over then directed his attention to West. He probably took me for a gold digger or by the way Dark and Dangerous carried himself with his tattoos, a prostitute that was being looked after by her pimp. Either way, I wasn't good for the cash and anyway, fucked if I was paying for it.

  "Put it in her name and I'll pay," West said to the guy and they wandered away down the row toward the office at the end.

  Looking over my few measly boxes of crap and flea-bitten furniture, I let out a long sigh. I'd said it before and I'd say it again until the day I died-I'd throw a match on the lot without blinking and never look back.

  I reached up, yanked the roller door down and it hit the concrete with a loud metallic boom. How was that for a fucking metaphor?

  When we walked out the front of the storage place, Furlough was there waiting beside a sleek looking limo. The rental was gone and I wondered how many people Affliction's manager had at his beck and call. His smartphone seemed to be glued to his hand twenty-four seven, which made me wonder if it was powered by his aura of douchewaddery because I never saw him charge it. I rose an eyebrow and West chuckled.

  "West," Furlough said, nodding. After a moment, he turned to me and said dryly, "Blair. I trust everything is in order."

  "Furlough the fuck nut," I said brightly. "Always a pleasure."

  It was common knowledge between the three of us that he didn't want me around despite giving West his blessing. To Furlough, I was a problem he didn't want to deal with. I was the volatile bit on the side that would turn into a PR nightmare at the slightest provocation. He didn't care that my head was screwed on; all he cared about was image and money.

  He narrowed his eyes at me and turned his attention onto West. "We need to be at the airport in half an hour." He nodded at the limo and opened the front passenger side door and got in.

  Taking that as our cue to get in, I went for the back door, glad that I'd be alone with West for the short ride to Melbourne's Tullamarine Airport. West beat me to it and held open the door and I got inside, just wanting this over. The moment I was on that plane, I wouldn't have the chance to run.

  I'd never been in a limo before and sitting there on the black leather seat, I felt one hundred percent out of place in the posh interior. I was wearing a pair of beat up black jeans and boots, a cut up Def Leopard T-shirt and an orange zebra print cardigan with studs all over the shoulders. I definitely did not look like limo material. More like skeezy rocker wannabe.

  "Are you okay?" West asked, sliding in next to me.

  "I'm fine."

  "I get it if it's overwhelming."

  "As long as you're here," I said, pressing against him as the limo took off.

  "That's the point." His chocolate brown eyes sparkled as they took in my features before dropping to my breasts.

  Running my fingertips along his jaw, I relished the feel of his stubble scratching against my skin. West was rough around the edges with his unkempt beard and full on tattoos and I could never get enough. Touching him was electrifying. It made my skin tingle, my stom
ach churn and my pussy clench. I wanted to fuck him like an animal in the back of that limo, but knowing Furlough was up front with nothing but a pane of tinted glass separating us gave me the creeps. I'd never been afraid of a little exhibitionism, but this unexplainable thing between West and I…I didn't want to share it with anyone.

  I drew West's mouth to mine and sucked on his bottom lip, pushing my tongue against his skin, forcing my way in. His hand found the back of my head and curled tightly into my hair as he kissed me back, trying to take control. His tongue invaded my mouth, clashing with mine as we held each other as tightly as we could.

  "Blair," West moaned, the first to pull away.

  "I win," I said with a wicked smile, teasing his swollen lips with the tip of my tongue.

  "What I wouldn't give to have you ride my cock right here in this limo."

  "I was thinking the exact same thing."

  He slid his hand into mine, rubbing my wrist with his thumb. "Let's add that one to the list."

  "There's a list?" I asked, my eyebrow quirking.

  "There is now."

  The airport was looming closer and I could almost hear the bang as the last nail in my coffin slammed home. It wasn't a bad omen, it was my old life being laid to rest like the flogged corpse it was. Pathetic, lonely, lost Blair Hayden was gone and I was being reborn kicking and screaming into the unknown. I had nothing to look back on and why the fuck would I want to? I'd taken a chance on West not just because he was my only option, but because I was attracted to him in a way I couldn't wrap my head around.

  "It's gunna be mental out there," West said with a frown. "As soon as the paps see you, they'll go apeshit."

  "Only because of that stupid photo," I groaned. It was only a week ago that I'd stood on the balcony at West's hotel room in the city, but it was still current gossip in the tabloid rags. Bad boy Jake West's new bit on the side. Groupie or gold digging slut? And it was on the fucking cover. Those shit stains didn't do things in halves and I'd been unwittingly pulled into the deep end and my head held underneath the surface. If I wanted to be with West and try and make this thing work between us, then I had to deal with paparazzi and the gossip. I couldn't have one without the other.

  My guts began to twist and sweat prickled along my forehead. It was one stupid extreme to another. Oblivion to popularity by association. I was suffering the worst case of emotional whiplash there was. I squeezed West's hand, hoping he'd soften the blow.

  "I'll look after you," he murmured, threading his fingers through mine. "Don't worry about the bags, we have Furlough to handle that."

  "What about check in?"

  "Airport authorities don't like celebrities to cause a scene in the terminal," he said. "We get special treatment."

  "Because you're awesome, or they don't like you messing up the furniture?" I asked with a small smile.

  "We're the rabble, B. We're going in the back door." He gave me a lewd wink and leaned over for a kiss.

  I didn't have time to make a joke about anal sex, because the limo pulled up and my gaze fell straight on the throng of photographers that were rushing towards us, all of them readying their fancy cameras, pushing and shoving each other to get in the front.

  Furlough came around, opened up the door and West slid out and it was like a bunch of sharks had just smelt blood in the water. They started yelling questions at him, snapping photos, trying to get the one picture that they could sell to the highest bidder. Turning back, he held out a hand for me as security guards from the airport pushed back the crowd allowing us room to breathe.

  The moment they copped a look at me, they went into a frenzy. I squinted as dozens of flashbulbs went off, ducking my head low. I got that this was West's life, but having it shoved in your face when yesterday you were a pathetic nobody was a whole new slice of cake. I couldn't say or do anything because it would all fall back on West and he'd had enough heartbreak in the past six months without me creating a shit storm of controversy.

  "Who's your friend, West?" a photographer called out.

  "Is she the woman from the hotel?" another yelled.

  "Are you together?"

  "What's your name, honey?"

  West grabbed my arm and yanked me into his side, the vein twitching in his forehead. "Fucking vultures," I heard him mutter under his breath. He guided me expertly through the desperate media scrum and into the terminal, where they seemed to be forbidden to go. I wondered how they knew we were leaving today, especially since West had changed his schedule at such short notice. I didn't get much time to contemplate the inner workings of gossip rags because as soon as the automatic doors opened, it revealed another group of people and when they laid eyes on West, they erupted in screams. One hundred percent women, one hundred percent hot for Jake West and despite not wanting to give a crap, jealousy reared its head and stabbed a red-hot poker through my heart.

  "Sorry ladies, not today," West said and kept walking, not once removing his arm from around my shoulders.

  All eyes fixed on me and I put my head down, embarrassed at the sudden attention. I never understood people who followed around famous actors and musicians. Screaming hysterically and decorum didn't really go that well together and mostly, I just wanted to slap some sense into them. Following an image was as shallow as a toddler's wading pool. Where the fuck was the reality in that?

  Just past the groupies that now saw me as enemy number one, stood an airport official who greeted us with a friendly smile and took us to a private room so we could go through the formalities without a crowd watching over our shoulders.

  Once our passports were checked and we had our boarding passes in our hands, we were free to go into the terminal and wait for the flight to board. West led me through duty-free, bypassing all the perfume and booze, past surprised looking sales assistants and passengers, and straight into the part of the airport where all the gates were. I'd never been this far before, so my gaze flickered over everything, wondering what people saw in all that junk. Designer stink I couldn't fathom, but booze on the other hand...

  I must have looked shell shocked by the whole experience because West took my hand and tugged me towards a set of fancy looking doors. "First Class lounge," he explained. "It'll be quieter in there."

  "First class?" I asked, a little hesitant.

  "What, did you think I'd stick you in economy next to a screaming baby?"

  "I don't know," I said. "I've never been on a plane before."

  "What? Never?" He seemed genuinely surprised and it made my hackles rise.

  Once, I'd dreamed of going overseas and backpacking, doing the whole working holiday thing in the UK. When my parents died, I inherited the house, but it had to be sold to pay out the mortgage. Ended up that I was out of pocket and I had to pay for the funeral for my beloved Mum and the fuck stain deadbeat asshole that was my father. Talk about one last epic slap in the face. I was broke in all senses of the stupid word. No grand overseas adventure for me. No nothing. To date, I'd never been able to scrape myself off the bottom, not on my own.

  I shook my head and that was my final explanation.

  The woman at the door of the First Class Lounge was dressed in that perfect flight attendant way, with a fancy little hat, her blonde hair in an impeccable up-do, red lips and flawless eyeliner. Everything I wasn't with my punk rock threads and tattooed skin. Compared to her, I looked like I'd been out back rolling in shit.

  When she laid eyes on West, her eyes widened slightly and she stood taller, obviously readying herself to offer her 'services'. Blatantly ignoring me and the fact that my hand was firmly wedged in West's, she let her gaze wander over his entire body, before smiling with her stupid perfect red lips and white teeth.

  "Good morning sir," she purred, battering her eyes. "May I please see your boarding pass?"

  West handed her our boarding passes and her gaze flickered to me. A look that said, 'what the fuck' passed over her features for a split second before she looked back at my Dark and Danger
ous. Obviously she saw me as less than competition and I began to feel it.

  "This way, Mr West," she said, her eyes travelling the length of him again.

  When the attendant's back was turned, I ran my eyes over her wondering if she would've got lucky if I wasn't in the picture. A fucked up burning rage flared through me and I felt my face contort into a scowl. Mr West? I mouthed at him and he just chuckled and shook his head.

  The attendant guided us inside and my eyes fell straight onto the bar. I could've gone a stiff drink or ten…hell, just give me the fucking bottle. I hardly took in anything else about the lounge, I felt so out of place in the poshness of it. Blair Hayden was not a first class woman. She sat down in the cargo hold or at best, economy.

  West sat at the bar, putting our bag in the floor as I dared myself to look over the place. I was in the first stages of catatonia after our grand entrance and severely pissed at the way other women threw themselves at Dark and Dangerous everywhere he went. I knew it was the way things were, but seeing it was a head fuck to the extreme and I didn't like the way it was making me feel. I was jealous which meant I cared about West more than I was letting on to myself. Had I made the right decision or was I just fucking dreaming?

  "Well, I didn't fucking exist," I said haughtily, digging my fingernails into my palms. "If she thinks she can flirt with you while I'm standing right here…"

  "I didn't even notice," West said with a shrug. He sat down on a stool and tugged at me until I was standing in between his legs.

  "Of course you fucking noticed. You have a dick. She wants you to put it in her. There is no way that went over your head."

  "That burning jealousy you're feeling right now," he whispered into my ear, "is making me hard. Knowing you'd cut the bitch if she looks at me the wrong way."

  "I would literally cut the bitch," I said, my thighs clenching together, "and I'd punish you for it later."

  "If we weren't about to get on a twenty six hour flight, I'd take you over my knee."

  "Over your knee? I thought you were more inventive than that?"