Still Not Yours: An Enemies to Lovers Romance

by Snow, Nicole

  My lips part for him. For the wonderful, luscious feeling that comes when he slips into me and tastes me and caresses me so intimately from within, making my mouth his with every touch, branding me far deeper than my lips.

  He’s been inside my body, my mind, my heart.

  Even if I ran away tomorrow to try to keep him safe, I’d always carry him with me.

  Yet I know now, as I melt into him with a moan, as he nips and teases my mouth to a sweet addiction, as he makes me gasp with the sheer intensity that's Riker Woods...

  I can’t leave.

  Not for anything.

  Not unless he tells me to go because I’m so deeply in love with this stoic, strange, wonderfully kind man that I don’t have the strength to pull away.

  He’s shown me in so many ways that I have it in me to be strong, that there’s a fierceness inside me I never knew I had. But no power, no force of will, could ever compel me to walk away.

  I’m his, now and always, even if he doesn’t even know it.

  We finally break, just barely.

  Just enough to breathe.

  But we lean so close against each other that the familiar scratch of his beard against my cheek is equal parts comfort and cruel temptation. I don’t know who's soothing who anymore, when he’s holding me so close and I’m stroking my fingers through his hair until the hard tension in his shoulders eases.

  Does it matter?

  No. All that matters is that we’re here for each other.

  “I’m going to find a way out of this,” I whisper, tucking my head beneath his jaw. “I’ll find a way to fix this. My Dad made this problem. I know I'll find a way to make it right.”

  “You shouldn’t have to, Liv. That's my job.”

  “Maybe.” But there’s a firm resolution in me, something growing that even I don’t wholly understand.

  Only that it’s like a steady fire, one that doesn’t rage but holds its heat bright and hot and true, patient and waiting. “But I know how to handle Daddy. We can go to Yosemite for now, but once I figure out what to do...I’m going to make sure you come home again, Riker. This place will be safe for everyone again.”

  I can feel his smile, where his cheek presses to mine. “Damn, sweetheart, so now you’re protecting me?”

  “I owe you a few.”

  He pulls back, looking at me strangely, then kisses me with a heartbreaking softness. “You don’t owe me nothing, Liv,” he says, “other than to be yourself.”

  Be myself.

  But who am I today?

  I think of Eden, my heroine in my book, and her quest to answer the same question. I know her journey has been a mirror of my own, but I still can’t help but wonder.

  Who am I now? Who, really?

  And how far am I willing to go to keep this new life I’ve discovered?

  14

  Crazy Little Thing (Riker)

  I haven’t been up to the winter lodge since Em was six years old.

  I’m surprised she remembers it so well, but then it shouldn’t be that startling. Our last trip here was one of the final good memories we had together as a family.

  Crystal was still healthy, carrying Em on her shoulders, as we left the car in the guarded lot a few blocks down from the main trail and climbed, huffing and wheezing in the thin mountain air, up the leaf-strewn autumn hills and rocky crags with our backpacks weighing us down. Em, every once in a while, demanded to get down on the ground and ask about the shape of this leaf or why the air smelled different or would we see any wolves or coyotes, and were they too scared of people?

  You know, the usual heart-rending shit kids do.

  She’d been such a bright, inquisitive child even then. We’d tucked away happily for a few months to watch the winter settle in and see the first snow fall through windows lit with the reflections from firelight. I want to say it’s a pure, happy memory for me, but it’s not.

  Not all of it.

  Because I still remember nights after Em fell asleep. The low, bitter conversations with Crystal, and then sleeping on the pullout couch while they shared the bed.

  My wife only tolerated me then because we had to get through this. She appreciated what I did for her, how I swore up and down we'd see this through, how hard we'd fight her cancer. But she didn't love me.

  We were too damaged. Too weary. Too wrong from the very beginning, and the years took their toll.

  We stayed in this for Em. And if we ever thought there was a ghost of a chance at mending it, at fixing us, it wasn't meant to be.

  I'm clenching my teeth as I shift out of the driver's seat and back into the present.

  It's not déjà vu I'm feeling anymore as we leave the Wrangler in the lot and load up our backpacks full of supplies.

  It's something different as I watch Em and Liv practically chase each other through the trees, while Em excitedly shows Liv the different plant species she can identify and answers Liv’s bright-eyed, curious questions about squirrels and caterpillars and the pretty butterflies flitting through the warm summer air, just as eager and inquisitive as Em herself.

  It's unmistakable what it is.

  Pride.

  I’m proud to be here with them. Rather than erasing those old memories, it just closes their book and tucks their pages away to the archives, leaving something fresh and new where I can write in another story, another chapter.

  A new beginning.

  By the time we make it up to the peak of the tree-shrouded slope, though, I’m ready for an ending.

  More, I’m ready to sit down. The girls are carrying their own backpacks with their personal effects and a few other things, but I had to be Mr. Big Ox and carry the massive camping frame loaded down with a few weeks’ worth of groceries and other essential supplies.

  The lodge is modern and has electricity, appliances, and other necessities for comfort, but as remote as it is, it’s still helpful to stock up on things in case of emergencies.

  I’m sweating down the back of my collar by the time we emerge from a break in the trees to see the peaked roof of the cozy little cottage-style house with its dark shingles, brick chimney, and pale slat siding. Crystal’s parents must've been here recently or sent out a caretaker because the garden out back is only a little overgrown, and the blown leaves along the front stepping stones aren’t too thick.

  Before we let ourselves in, I turn back and look down the way we came.

  Nothing but forest. The road isn’t visible from here, or the parking lot.

  The cottage wasn’t visible from the road, either. A sheer cliff rises up the back of the house, with a thin little waterfall pouring down through foliage, running into the pond and creek in the backyard.

  We’re surrounded on two sides, with only two possible avenues of approach up a steep, rocky hill that'd make it nearly impossible for a stealth approach.

  The direct trail, and a narrow, gentler paved footpath coming from the north are actually harder to use when it winds over three miles from the point of entry on a higher curve of the highway some ways away.

  It's fucking perfect.

  When we step inside the cabin, though, it’s a punch of nostalgia and memory straight to my gut.

  Crystal decorated this place a long time ago. It’s all homey deep-rose colors and complementary plaids and subtle florals, giving it a sort of soft, rustic look. Her touch is everywhere here.

  I look over, know Em feels it, too, when she stops just past the threshold and looks around.

  Normally, she’s so energetic that even when standing still she always seems to be in motion, but right now she’s just arrested, quiet. Her little eyes shift down.

  I walk over and grip her shoulder gently. She looks up at me and offers a wan smile that feels like a mirror of my own.

  “It’s okay to miss her,” I say.

  She bites her lip. “Do you?”

  “In my own way, love.”

  That question should've hurt, so much. Should've ripped me the fuck open.
r />   I should've known that even at such a young age, Em was aware of the tension between me and her mother. It’s a reasonable question to ask. And one I’m okay with answering it half honestly today, when I don’t think I would've been before.

  As Em pulls me close, burrows in for a hug, I fold her in my arms and catch Liv’s eye over her head, sharing a brief, wistful smile.

  Don’t have to ask myself who’s responsible for my honesty today.

  Em’s bright again in a matter of seconds, pulling away and flashing us both a smile. “C’mon, Liv! I’ll show you where you can put your stuff. We’re sharing the bedroom.”

  “Sleepover style, huh?” Liv hefts her back and flashes me an impish smile. “Where’s your father going to sleep?”

  I chuckle. “The couch pulls out into a rollaway bed. You two get the room. I know how girls need their privacy.”

  Even if that privacy – and the structure of the cabin – is going to put a serious damper on our sex life.

  We’ll find a way, I vow.

  Even if I wind up flat on the ground outside with a pine cone up my ass, rolling around in needles.

  The thought shouldn’t amuse me as much as it does, but even being able to laugh in the midst of this clusterfuck of a job is enough to lift my spirits. It doesn’t take us long to get settled in.

  The girls get their things put away in their room while I stash mine in the massive oak chest that doubles as a coffee table in the living room, before we work together to put the groceries and supplies away. Liv’s a whirlwind as usual, learning her way around while we point her to various things.

  Somehow, in a blink and a breath, it’s evening. Liv and Em are sprawled out on the floor in front of a crackling fire, playing some card game with magic monsters gathering or something like that and completely ignoring the Lord of the Rings DVD playing on the TV.

  I’m on the couch messing around on my laptop, using the wi-fi hotspot on my phone to run through the Enguard database’s information on the Pilgrims plus anything I can find on Liv’s old man.

  It's harder than it should be to focus.

  If I'm being honest, I’m watching Liv and Em over the top of the screen. It does something to me, to see how well they get along. Liv subtly takes on the role of the adult, but without stifling Em or repressing her natural enthusiasm, independence, and creativity. She takes real, genuine interest in Em, and I don’t know if she’s had experience with kids before or if it’s a natural talent, but she seems to genuinely care if my daughter is happy and fulfilled, and if she grows into the wonderful person she’s meant to be.

  She treats my daughter like a person. Not a damn impediment or an annoying accessory.

  And it’s part of what makes me so stuck on her, when the one or two women I tried dating in the past couple of years treated Em like an obstacle to overcome if they wanted to score a role in my life, instead of like someone they could befriend.

  Liv glances up and catches my eye, flashing me a little smile.

  It takes everything to keep my answering smile minimal and preoccupied, when Em doesn’t know about us – and she’ll see through me in an instant.

  I force myself to look back down at my screen and the data files I’m comparing to find any link between Alec Holly and the Pilgrims.

  It just doesn’t make sense to me that Holly senior would order a hit just because some guys were muscling his daughter for drug money. Why not just pay them off exorbitantly?

  A bribe still would've been cheaper than taking out a hit.

  There must be something else at play here. Something driving the need to take out the Pilgrims by force and send a message, even if Holly clearly hasn't realized just how deep blood grudges run with these types of gangs.

  Or just how deep the Pilgrims’ connections run throughout the Pacific Northwest.

  It’s disturbing how much the gang has going on.

  On the surface, they look like dirty punks, lurking on street corners. Beneath that façade, though, is an entire root system reaching its tendrils out into law enforcement and businesses throughout Washington, Oregon, and Northern California.

  They own multiple shell corporations for laundering dirty money, maintain an entire distribution network for drug imports, have protection rackets set up as organized state-wide networks intimidating small businesses, keep multiple city and state police in their pockets.

  About the only thing the Pilgrims don’t do is manufacture their own drugs.

  I’d known they were dirty assholes, but I didn’t realize just how far the filth went.

  Not that Alec Holly’s much cleaner. He’s exactly the rich, self-absorbed dickbag I thought he was.

  Three messy divorces, backstabbing rise to corporate power, the kind of guy who somehow finds the money to award himself obscene bonuses in the middle of a recession and among waves of layoffs.

  He’s always jetting around, hosting fundraisers for nebulous causes that don’t actually seem attached to any real charity, and I’m wondering where that money goes when he seems to have more than enough of his own between managing smart investments in Milah’s career and a run of very successful stock trading. It's the foundation of an international business incubator that makes its money by buying promising fledgling startups for a song, nurturing them into global corporations, then selling them off for a seven-to-eight-figure profit.

  Something doesn’t seem right, though.

  With all those corporations constantly changing hands, it wouldn’t be hard to hide some pretty shady dealings in the transactions, burying them down in the fine details as a cover for something else. Something that might overlap the Pilgrims’ business interests. Something where, if Lion saw an opportunity with Milah’s drug debt, he could easily use Alec Holly’s daughters as leverage to go after what he really wanted.

  I think Alec Holly’s in this mess even deeper than we thought, and this entire clusterfuck is his attempt to cover his tracks – and cover his ass.

  Even if he has to sacrifice his own daughters to do it.

  The only time I’ve ever felt this kind of black, bubbling hatred rising up from my gorge like bile is when I saw that man dragging Liv. I need to keep a lid on it, though.

  I can’t let Liv know I suspect her father of being this big an asshole or taking things this far. Despite their conflicted relationship, she clearly loves Alec Holly. She'd be even more devastated than she was that day at my house if she knew the naked truth.

  I distract myself looking through a few more documents, then pause, frowning.

  I’ve been through both the Holly file and the Pilgrims file before, and this data wasn’t there last time.

  Was it?

  I check a few folders full of PDFs. Every last one of them has CrownRecovered in the file name. I can’t help but grin to myself.

  Landon’s a smart, sly dog.

  He’s managed to seize the info databases from Crown Security, our old rival, after it was shut down by the FBI, adding their case files to augment our own.

  It looks like there’s an entire data dump of files no one’s organized yet. Good.

  It’ll give me something to do to keep from going stir-crazy cooped up in this cabin, unable to even go to work. I love spending time with Em and Liv, but after even three days, we’re going to need some solo time or we’re going to be at each other’s throats.

  Em lets out a triumphant sound that I think means she beat Liv at arranging numbered cards with monsters on them until someone had the right number to win. Then she looks up at me, grinning. “Hey, Dad? I just beat Liv with an entirely green deck, even giving her all my black cards. Can I call Ryan to tell him about it?”

  “Hm?” I look up from the laptop. Liv’s mock-pouting, but I can tell she’s trying not to laugh.

  I linger on her for a moment, then shake my head at Em with a smile. “Sure, love. Just remember you can’t tell him we’re here. We’re just out camping.”

  “What if he asks where?” she asks.


  “Be vague. Change the subject.”

  She bounces up, already fishing her phone from her pocket. “Okay.”

  I’m not expecting her to retreat to the bedroom, and the fact that she does makes me arch a brow. Private conversations with boys, now?

  When did my little girl grow up?

  Chuckling ruefully, Liv pushes herself off the floor. “I haven’t played Magic since I was fifteen, and she’s whipping my butt with a basic deck. God, I need to relearn how to play.”

  “I have no idea what any of that means.”

  “Means girls like math, monsters, and magic battles. That’s all you need to know.” She settles down next to me, patting my arm, then follows my line of sight toward the bedroom door; Em’s voice is a faint, excited murmur drifting from inside. “She really likes that Ryan kid, doesn’t she?”

  “Seems like it. He's a pretty good kid, even if I find his old man smarmy as hell.” I look down at the tempting, beautiful woman sitting so close to me, yet still too far away. “I think he’s her first crush.”

  “Her first crush that you know about.”

  I blink. “What? C'mon. Em tells me everything. She would've told me if she liked somebody.”

  Liv just keeps staring, a smile pulling at her lips.

  I pause, frowning, stroking my beard. “Wouldn’t she?”

  “Oh, Riker.” Liv laughs gently, shifting to tuck against my side and resting her head on my shoulder. “You’re a great dad, but there’s a point where men realize they have a lot to learn about raising girls.” She pokes my arm. “Welcome home. You've reached it.”

  “Let me guess – you’re going to teach me?”

  Her smile turns sly, and she leans just a little more into me.

  Just enough for that light pressure of her weight to turn from comforting to enticing, while the curve of her breasts mold to my arm and her waist fits against mine, her hip a soft roundness sliding against my side. “Seems fair. You’ve taught me a lot of things.”

  It’s like she’s flicked a switch inside me. I'd like to teach her a whole lot more right the fuck now.