Love Me Like You Do: Books That Keep You In Bed

by Fields, MJ

  His dark face shadows, like he knows something I don’t. “Men like us, we’re cut from the same cloth. I served, too. Saw crazy shit. Came back to a country that could never understand me. They want me to follow laws I can’t abide by. Muscle like yours is valuable to me, Slade. Working with a man like you, who understands honor in the way I understand honor, could be a real good thing for us both. If you’re going to need this on the regular, we can make a de—”

  “No. This is a one-time thing.”

  I flinch, my conscience screaming, Lie! It’s subtle, but the look on his face tells me he noticed.

  He cackles. “Sure it is. If you want to straighten out, I can help with that, too. Show you other ways to channel those demons. Or not.”

  I turn to leave the room as his voice calls out behind me, “I’ll be waiting for your call. I can get you more anytime, son.”

  I don’t turn back even though my muscles pulse to knock him out.

  I’m never coming back here! Never. This shit isn’t me.

  But Lauren’s waiting in the car, and I need to get to her. Her face moves through my head as I become more and more frantic to get the hell out of this place and back to her.

  I walk back through the party and strut directly out the door to the lot. Unlocking the car, I step inside, mind flashing back on Lion’s words to me.

  “Cut from the same cloth,” he said.

  NO!

  “You’re an asshole!” Lauren screeches, greeting me with a yell.

  “I’m back now.”

  She’s breathing all heavy, hurt lining her eyes.

  “Calm down, Lauren.” I grit my teeth, stressed over what just went down. The last thing I need right now is lip.

  “Did you just tell me to calm down?” She vibrates. “Fuck you, Slade.” Opening the car door, she steps out.

  I pull down the window. “There isn’t any Uber here in this neck of the woods. It’s me, or it’s nothing.”

  I grip the wheel, praying she’ll come back inside. Lauren doesn’t know what these men are capable of. For the first time, I realize how stupid it was to bring her here. Someone could have seen her in my car, all alone, and smashed the window open. They could find her now and take her from me. My chest tightens with the image of my woman in their hands.

  “Get in the car, Lauren.” My voice cracks.

  “Fine. Whatever.” She throws her hands up. “Take me home.”

  She gets back in but slams her car door with force. The sound jars me. In the driver’s seat, I begin to wring my hands, left to right.

  Rituals.

  Blood trickles from my eyebrow, settling into my mouth. The copper taste moves up into my nose. I press my fingers against my coarse brow, now wet and slick to the touch.

  What the fuck?

  I bring my hand down, noticing a substance like slick motor oil between my fingers. The blood, it keeps pouring and won’t stop! My breaths shorten.

  A rock is thrown directly into my face, hitting my head. I hold my tongue, even as blood drips hot, not wanting to curse or escalate the situation. Sometimes, kids don’t realize that we’re a force of good around here. Still, my head bleeds from the sharpened edge, trickling like raindrops onto the sandy gray street.

  The village outside Kandahar is dusty and full of Taliban. An elderly gentleman waves to us, toothless and seemingly friendly. I motion for our interpreter to follow me. I’m going to him.

  “Ask him if there are Taliban around here,” I instruct.

  The interpreter goes ahead and speaks, and the man immediately responds with hands gesturing wildly.

  When he’s finished, the interpreter says, “Yes, when Taliban are here, we must be with the Taliban. But, today, America is here, and so we are with America. You will allow us to farm, yes?”

  Another rock hits me, but this time, it’s straight between my eyes.

  “Slade?” A soft, far-off voice wakes me.

  I come to in a small and dirty cot, huddling under a blanket.

  Rex. Where’s Rex?

  “Slade?”

  I hear her soft voice again, but this time, I’m back to the moment. I flinch as Lauren’s warm hand moves to my arm as my eyes blink wildly.

  “Slade, are you all right?” Her face is a combination of anguish and nervousness. “You zoned out.” Her earlier anger has turned into worry.

  “Yeah.” I push the gas and drive, my skeleton shaking beneath my skin. Holding the steering wheel, I attempt to get ahold of reality. “Don’t stare at me like I’m some goddamn freak show,” I growl, my fear disguised as anger.

  The streetlight turns red, and I lower the sun visor in front of my seat, slightly tilting my head to get a good look at my face. No blood. Nothing anywhere.

  I shut it as the light changes to green. “Look, it was just a few minutes. It wasn’t a big deal.” I try to soften my voice. I’m losing my grip, acting totally off the wall.

  Who am I? Who the fuck am I? My mind moves in fast-forward.

  “Yes, it was a big deal.” Her angry voice is sad now. “How could you just leave me there? You shouldn’t have brought me. I was scared as hell, sitting in your truck in the middle of this dark lot in front of some dilapidated house and all these motorcycles. It was a motorcycle club, right?” The question rips from her lips.

  “Most of them are decent guys,” I lie, clenching my fists around the steering wheel. “I wouldn’t have brought you somewhere dangerous.” My chest palpitates.

  Reality is, I brought her with me to a horrible place just so I could score drugs. My life is fragmenting, but how else can I stay alive? How else can I keep myself from drowning? I need to numb the part of my brain that’s deserted the rest of my psyche.

  It isn’t me.

  But it is me.

  Putting on my signal, I turn right. I’m taking deep breaths through my nose, trying to bring my head back to the present. “Look, Lauren, nothing happened to you, and we’re okay. We won’t ever go back there, all right?” I turn my head to see her, but all I get is the back of her head. “I won’t ever bring you back,” I repeat.

  A few minutes pass in silence, and I can only hope she’s calming.

  She shifts in her seat. “It’s not like Sons of Anarchy, is it?” She turns to me, a small grin on her face.

  Is she … playing?

  “If you’re looking to meet Jax Teller, the answer is no.”

  She laughs out loud, and the darkness between us dissipates.

  Lauren, God. I want to yell with relief.

  “Well, that’s unfortunate,” she grumbles. “Don’t tell me they’re like the Bandidos or the Hells Angels.”

  “And what on earth do you know about those guys?” I move my eyes between her and the road, needing to see her beautiful face. Her face steadies me.

  “Well, I saw this show called Gangland, and they are really scary. Like, flying gang colors and torturing each other in prison and making these things called shivs—”

  I laugh out loud, and she tilts her head in mock confusion.

  “What’s funny about that? Tough men like you aren’t afraid?”

  “You’re just crazy cute. Yeah, they’re outlaws. I’m sure they do illegal shit, but they’d never mess with me.” Another lie. God must be making tally marks.

  “But what were you doing there?” she presses. “What kind of work could you possibly have with a—”

  “That’s none of your business.” I hold my breath. I want it to be her business. I want everything to be her fucking business. But it can’t.

  “Well, you left me there in their parking lot. I hope it was for something important.” She purses her lips. “Wait. These guys aren’t the same ones that had trouble with Vincent, right?”

  “No,” I say vehemently. “This club is a mixture of guys but a heavy veteran contingent. Some men discharge and just can’t reacclimate into society. They do better under a different set of laws. The brotherhood is something men understand after leaving war.” I wonder
if it would have been better for me, too. Meeting Vincent derailed that potential though.

  “Well, I guess you’re right that it’s not my problem. I mean, I’m leaving in a little more than a week. And it’s not like you’re my boyfriend.” She says this to the window.

  I want to move her face around so I can get a better read, but she doesn’t face me.

  Panic fills my chest at the thought of her leaving. Nine days left. Has it only been five days that we’ve been together? It feels like so much more.

  The baggy in my front pocket is heavy as a brick.

  It isn’t me. But it is me. Who am I?

  I take her palm in mine, and finally, she turns back, brown eyes wide in surprise at the fact that I’m holding her hand. Now that I’ve got her, I’m going to keep her near me.

  Mine, my head, heart, and dick all pound in unison.

  She just satisfies me in a way I’ve never had before. It’s great sex, but it’s also more than that. She’s funny and sweet, and she somehow brings me peace. I won’t fuck this up. I’ll do whatever I have to—drugs, drinking, anything—to keep her while I can.

  “You hungry?” My voice is slightly hesitant.

  Kissing her knuckles, I silently vow to keep her close to me. That’s when I notice leftover would-be tears sitting on her lower lash line. She must have swallowed them, not wanting me to see. They shine like diamonds in her eyes.

  “I’m sorry. Lauren, I’m sorry I brought you there. I shouldn’t have.”

  “You aren’t sorry.” She turns back to the window, crossing her arms in front of her chest.

  “I am. I swear, I am. I wasn’t thinking straight.” Leaning over, I take her hand again. “You feel me? I don’t hold hands.” I pull the car over to the side of the road and unbuckle my belt. “Look at me, Lauren.”

  She does.

  “I’m sorry. I haven’t been good to you the way you deserve. I won’t fuck up again, okay?”

  “I wish you’d stop doing and saying things you don’t mean.”

  I lift the ends of her hair, soft and like painted gold. “I know.”

  She doesn’t reply, but her hand tightly squeezes mine.

  “There’s a small Italian place nearby that we can go to.”

  “I don’t think so. I’m actually really tired, and I have to wake up early to work at Eve’s Center. Would you mind just taking me back to the Mile?”

  Her expression is so pained; I can’t fucking stand it. I shift my body over the console and unbuckle her seat belt, bringing her into my arms so she’s in my lap.

  “I’ll bring you back to your room. But tell me you forgive me.” I grip her head in my hands.

  “I forgive you,” she whispers, finally giving me her eyes. They swim with emotion as I bring my mouth to hers, kissing her lips.

  “I’m worried about you,” she whispers against my mouth.

  I don’t reply. It takes every ounce of strength in my body to push back and not take her here and now in the seat. But I’ve put her through enough tonight.

  When I pull back, we’re both breathing heavily.

  “I really like you, Lauren. I want us to have a good time together.”

  She pleadingly looks at me. “Okay, but you can’t pull this shit, Slade. It was wrong on so many levels.”

  I close my eyes for a split second because the shit I pull isn’t always in my control. “You haven’t known me for too long. But, if you give us this time together, I promise, I’ll make it worth your while.”

  “You’d better.” Her relief is apparent in the cadence of her voice.

  I smile, and for the first time in God only knows how long, it’s full blown. After I help her back into the passenger seat, the rest of our drive is quiet and warm. Dropping her off, I vow to keep myself under control. I’ll do whatever it takes.

  Fifteen

  Lauren

  “Lauren, your one p.m. is here,” Eve sings out melodically, knocking on my door.

  I’m helping Eve out at her Center this week. It’s a nice-sized, newly built house on the rez with small apartment-type residences attached to the back.

  With a small but clean communal indoor playroom for the children as well as an outdoor jungle gym, a hang-out living room area for older kids, and a tearoom for the mothers, the Center is a safe house in all senses of the word. Even the newly built apartments are perfectly constructed.

  My makeshift office is filled with brown boxes, which have been pushed to the back corner of the room. But, with a small, square folding table and chair, a phone line, my own small laptop, and some pens and legal pads, I’m already knee deep in work. It hasn’t even been one full day, and yet I’m already feeling the fantastic pulse of making a difference. Not least, working with Eve is second nature to me. After years of working for her at the law firm, I know exactly how she likes things done and knows what she needs done before she even asks.

  Seeing abused women with their children isn’t easy, but I’ve already begun organizing cases and scheduling updates and reminders. On the boat in Lake Powell, I managed to order a nice closet filled with clothing, shoes, and even undergarments for these women to keep. Having a crazy rich husband like Vincent, who wants nothing more than to make Eve’s dreams come true, means a lot of financial support. Eve wants these women to get jobs and have a few articles of clothing to start them off? Done. Eve wants a beautiful, clean library so the kids can have a safe place to read and relax? Yes. Eve wants a daily cleaning service to ensure everything is always spotless? Check. I’m not sure why she hasn’t hired an assistant to help her yet. Eve says she wants to learn all aspects of the Center herself before she hands it out to someone else. But, clearly, as evidenced by how much work I’ve been doing, she’s ready for that now.

  After last night’s drama with Slade, I took a thirty-minute shower. The entire episode scared the hell out of me. First, the motorcycle club. And then his zone-out in the car. Can I even call it that? I could see him compulsively touching his brow before moving into a trance. His eyes fluttering, as though he was seeing something I couldn’t see. I wasn’t sure what to do. I waited, frightened. Then, I touched him, and it was as though he was shaken out of it.

  I’m just not sure which way to turn. I’m having an amazing time with him, but there’s something lurking beneath his surface.

  Pushing away thoughts of Slade and my impending departure, I stand up on shaky legs but straighten myself out. I’ll deal with my personal stuff later. Right now, I’ve got to focus on helping Mary, a woman who’s been staying here for the last two weeks. Eve has already filed the necessary paperwork to keep her abusive husband away from her and their children. But it’s time for us to discuss ways to get her back on her feet.

  I’m turning the corner to our small conference room when Eve stops me.

  “Tomorrow night is the opening of Hook. You’re coming, right? Vincent has some fancy-pants PR firm working the event.”

  “I’ll be there with you. So long as you promise we can have a few drinks together. I seriously need it.”

  One more week—that’s all I have left. I want to break down and tell her about what’s been happening with Slade and how badly I need some girl time, but we’re at work, and I know Eve too well. She would not appreciate coffee talk at a time when a client is waiting.

  “Perfect. You’ll love it. It’s not casual,” she says with laughter. “You’ll get to doll your gorgeous self,” she adds with a wink. “Oh, and by the way, I got a threatening letter from one of the ex-husbands, so just make sure you stay focused on what’s around you.”

  “Don’t you have security?”

  “We do. Slade also comes a few nights a week to make sure all the locks are secure and families feel safe.”

  “He does?” I can feel my eyes widening.

  “Yep. He’s awesome like that.” She smiles knowingly.

  I want to have a good game face, but I don’t. My face blushes crimson.

  Turning on my red Gucci loafe
rs, I step into the small conference room that is designed to look like a warm den. Eve believes a setting like this is more comfortable for these women as opposed to a cold, rectangular table and too many chairs. Mary is already seated on a floral love seat, face filled with worry at seeing my new face.

  “Hi, Mary. I’m Lauren. I’ve reviewed all the paperwork you filled out, and I’m ready to discuss possible job placement for you. But, before we get into that, tell me how you’re all doing.”

  Tears fill her eyes as she describes her older daughter, already sixteen, who, yesterday, brought her a college pamphlet for the local community college that she’d gotten from the teen room. “It’s only been a few weeks, but we already feel like we’re going to make this happen.”

  “I can promise you, things will happen for the better. I’ve brought my computer, so I can show you how to scan for career opportunities here in your area.”

  I take her to the job search website and give a small tutorial. The Milestone shows up with opportunities in housekeeping.

  “I wouldn’t mind working as a cleaning lady. Do you think they’ll hire me? I hear they’re even building houses for their workers. And benefits, too, right? I’d love to get that job.”

  I smile. Eve never advertises the connection between herself and Vincent. “I bet we can arrange something. I am friends with the owner.”

  “You are?” Her eyes widen. “That man is a saint!”

  “He’s a good man.” I try not to roll my eyes.

  Sure, Vincent has done amazing things. But the man is not exactly warm and fuzzy.

  “You’ll be with me every step, right?” She worriedly inches closer.

  I sigh. “No, actually. I only have another week, so I’ll do the best I can until then.”

  “But why?”

  “I’m only here temporarily …” My voice trails off.

  “That’s a shame. You seem so sweet.”

  “Well, we’ll work together while I’m here. Let me just print out the application form for the Mile housekeeping staff. And then we’ll call and hopefully get an interview date.”

  She nods vigorously.