Make Me Yours

by Kar, Alla

  Chapter Four

  I slam my fist against Taylor’s ass. “Let me the fuck down, Taylor, “I yell. He doesn’t say anything, hasn’t since we exited the pool hall. I can’t see where we’re going, only that we’re in the parking lot. “Please, put me the fuck down. Now!”

  His hand grips my thigh hard. “You’re going to learn, Layla. Those guys aren’t joking when they say they’ll kill you, you know that right? They will shoot you in the head and not think twice about it. How dare you? How dare you put yourself in harm’s way?”

  I swallow hard, and hold my head. The blood is rushing there quickly. “What do you want me to say? I’m sorry? That’s not gonna take it back. Just let me down, I have to find Eric.”

  “He went home. I told him I would bring you home. Now, I’m not.”

  “What do you mean?” I yell. Several girls pass by us. I hear their heels clicking against the ground. “Help me!” I yell. They momentarily stop laughing and grow silent. “Help me, call the cops!”

  Taylor slaps my ass hard. “She is just drunk, carryon, ladies.”

  I hear their heels again, then their way far away, too far to hear me. Bitches. Taylor’s grip loosens on me and he drops me to the ground. Before I can run, he grabs my waist and pins me against his truck. “You move and I’ll chase you down. You don’t want to make me mad, Layla. I’m trying to keep you safe. Now, get in the truck.”

  There is no fighting it. I’m going home with Taylor Jacks.

  Taylor’s grip is tight on the steering wheel. He hasn’t said anything to me since he threatened to chase me down. I had no doubt he would stay true to his word. I sit, arms crossed over my chest, waiting for Taylor to change his mind and take me home.

  We pull into his apartment complex.

  He gets out, and I stay in the car. I contemplate running, but Taylor opens my car door and gestures for me to get out.

  “You’re lucky I knocked them out, or they’d follow you. It’s only a matter of time before they find out where you live. Then me.”

  This is what my dad told me about. Don’t get too close, it’ll hurt the ones you care about. Anger flashes through me. I didn’t make Taylor bring me to his house. I’ve been trying to avoid him all week. He is the one that wouldn’t leave me alone. He is the one putting himself in danger. “I didn’t ask you to take me anywhere, Taylor. I’m sorry if I’ve inconvenienced you. You are more than welcomed to take me home. I’m a big girl, I can handle myself. You went all macho gorilla on me, then decided to kidnap me. So, take me home, then we won’t have to worry about Rod or David jumping you.”

  Taylor is standing in his doorway, a blank expression on his face. He presses his teeth into his lip and I swear he is fighting back a smile. “Get in the house, Layla,” he says, softly.

  Ah! I swear I want to knock him the hell out. “Better not run, get inside before someone sees you.”

  I walk inside, then fold my arms over my chest. “What now, huh? I just stay here, trapped like a damn animal?”

  Taylor shrugs off his shirt and wipes at his neck. He’s sweating. I guess beating some ass might make you sweat. It trickles down his chest, down his abs until it disappears into the fabric of his jeans. “Just calm down. We’ll figure this out. We can’t really take it to the cops, it’ll make you look wrong. You did hustle them, Layla.” He walks past me into the kitchen. “You hungry, thirsty?”

  “Water,” I say.

  He nods, and brings two water bottles into the living room. I sit down on his overly-priced leather couch and drink half of the bottle.

  Taylor relaxes beside me, arms stretched out over my head. “So, how much?”

  “How much what?”

  “Did you hustle them for?”

  I shrug. “It was going to be one hundred, but he didn’t give it to me.” I pick at my jeans. “He was going to…”

  “Going to what?” Taylor asks, voice low. I don’t dare look at him.

  “He said I could earn it.”

  Taylor cusses beneath his breath. “He could have killed you, Layla. Do you not get what this does to you? Look at me,” he says. I turn and glance at him. He grabs my shoulders. “Why do you do this? Is it money?”

  I don’t want to tell him that I’m broke, the coffee shop doesn’t really pay that well. I don’t have any money left over after bills and this is what I’m good at. My dad taught me well. I’m doing this for my dad. “It’s a long story,” I say, sitting back away from his grip. “And I don’t want to talk about it.”

  Taylor raises a pierced brow and sits back against the couch. “Okay. We don’t have to.”

  The silence is killing me. Taylor is just watching TV completely oblivious to me sitting beside him. When he stands up and turns off the TV I sit up. “We have school tomorrow. I think we should hit the sack.”

  Hit the sack? “I’m not going to school with you tomorrow. I have no clothes. I have nothing to change into. What do you expect me to do?”

  “Strip,” he says, pointing toward my outfit. “I’ll wash those, and you can wear them to school tomorrow. I’m not taking you home until I know it’s safe. Don’t beg, that’s the end of the story.”

  Grr. “Where am I sleeping? I’m not sleeping with you.”

  Taylor reaches for my shirt and pulls it over my head. “You have no boundaries,” I say, covering myself up. Heat rises to my cheeks.

  He smirks. “Better get in the bathroom before I take the liberty of taking your jeans off, too. Unless that’s what you’re shooting for.”

  I walk toward the bathroom and slip off my jeans, then underwear and hand them to him. “Towels are in the cabinet, I’ll bring you something to sleep in.”

  This is madness. I’m being kidnapped. Okay, so not really. But, it makes me aggravated that I can’t make a run for it. He’ll catch me. I can wait until he is asleep. Will he go to sleep? I did see a complex alarm system on his door. Damn it. I run my fingers through my hair and slip into the shower.

  The shower is hot and warms every crevice. Taylor has some manly body wash, and it smells just like him. I use it, seeing nothing else I can use.

  “Layla,” he says.

  “Shit,” I say, dropping the soap. “Can’t you knock?”

  I hear him chuckle. “It’s my house. And since it’s my house, I’m tempted to join you.” My heart stops.

  “But,” he sighs, “you’re clearly angry at me. But, you’ll get the hell over it. There is a spare bedroom across the hallway. Don’t think about running, I have an alarm system. See you in the morning, hustler.”

  The door closes. I hate him.

  Chapter Five

  A thump in the kitchen wakes me. I stretch. Taylor’s spare bed is so comfortable. My thrift store mattress, is nothing compared to the lush softness of his. I tug my feet out from the covers, shivering as my feet hit the coldness of the wood floor. I tug on Taylor’s shirt he left on the toilet last night. Not to mention his boxers. I try not to think about his body being in the same clothing. It brings up things, I don’t want to feel.

  Another thud comes from the kitchen. I stand up and walk to my door. I glance toward the kitchen. Taylor is shirtless, running pants low on his slender waist. He has his back toward me, but I can see he’s been working out. Sweat drips down his back, and he is downing a huge glass of water. He turns and my eyes widen. “Are you watching me?” he asks, brow raised.

  I shake my head. “No,” I say, tugging on the long sleeve of his shirt.

  He eyes my movement and then my legs. He doesn’t ever try to hide it. “You look great in my clothes. Too bad I’m not the reason you changed into them.”

  Heat scorches my skin. “Funny. Can I have my clothes? I need to shower and get ready. I don’t have any of my make-up or anything.”

  “You don’t need it,” he waves me off, then hands me my folded clothes from the dining room table. “Here.” His hand brushes mine and I remember the way he touched me the first night I met him. I shake my head and go in the bath
room.

  Taylor is waiting when I exit the bathroom. I’m in the same clothes, and they’re tight. Really tight. He raises an eyebrow. “I forgot how fucking hot you looked last night, with running to your defense and everything.”

  I roll my eyes. “Are we really going to class, I really don’t want to.”

  He pops his neck. “No, we’re not going to class today. But, I have a fight tomorrow night, and I need to head to the gym. You’re coming with me.”

  “To watch you practice?”

  He nods. “To watch me punish.”

  Okay, I thought that was just a little corny, until we actually get into the gym. It’s large, in a bad part of town, and there aren’t many people here. It’s around ten, so it’s an odd time for people to be here anyway. A few older guys are boxing, but nothing serious. Taylor drops his gym bag on the floor and tosses his shirt to the side. I really wish he would stop. I’m supposed to stay clear of him until the Rod thing calms down and go back to my normal life, without him. But, with him shirtless, sweating and tattooed, it’s kind of hard to focus.

  He motions me over to a fold out chair close by. I watch as he stretches, his muscles moving under his tanned skin. “So, what got you into fighting?” I ask.

  Taylor smiles but something washes over his face. “I was a…troubled kid. One of my dad’s friends told me to take my anger out in a good way. So, I started boxing down at his gym. It turned into fighting in tournaments, and now fighting at Fight Night. I’m the three time remaining champion.” He smiles, but it seems because he is utterly proud of himself.

  When he starts jabbing at the punching bag, my heart starts to race. It’s so quick, I can barely see his arms moving. My stomach tightens. He is…so fucking sexy. I don’t want to admit it to myself, but it’s hard not to want to lick him. He jumps, sending a round house kick to the bag. It swings, creaking on a rusty chain.

  His gaze drifts to mine, chest moving heavily with each breath. “Want to try?” he asks.

  I shrug my shoulders. “I’m not too good,” I say.

  He offers me his hand. “Every girl needs to know how to land a descent punch. You could have hit Rod last night, though, it’s probably a good thing you didn’t. He would have killed you.” What a pleasant thought. “Now, come stand in front of me.”

  Oh God.

  I walk slowly toward him and stop when I feel the front of his chest hit my upper back. “So,” he whispers. “What you’re gonna do is put your hands up like this.” He reaches down, sliding his fingers down until they’re guiding mine upright. “Curl your hands into fist.” He smells so fucking good. “Now,” he says. “Bend your knees.” He bends and pushes my knee forward with his hands. “You’re gonna swing back, aim for his jaw and follow through.” He shows me the movements, but I’m too excited to really see what he’s doing. He’s so firm. So fit.

  “Can you do it alone, Layla?” he whispers in my ear, his lips touching underneath my lobe. I nod, but it’s only to distract myself from wanting to attack him.

  I do what he says and take a swing at the bag, it sways slightly. He chuckles. “Try again. This time harder.”

  Biting my lip, I take another swing, this time it squeaks and bounds back and forth on the chain. “Well done, baby girl. I think you’ve got the hang of it.” He squeezes my side with his palm and the heat makes me shiver despite the heat of the gym.

  “Now, you can watch. I’ve got a lot of work to do.”

  I watch in awe as Taylor works out. More people have started to flood in but I’m still sitting in my chair watching carefully. I grip the cool medal edge and watch as he squares off with another fighter. He’s down in three minutes, slapping the floor. I want to smile, seeing Taylor so menacing, but he helps the guy up and laughs it off.

  When he glances up, he winks and jumps over the rope. “Having fun?” he asks.

  Yes, I want to shout. I love watching him. Instead I shrug and say, “sure, you’re pretty good. You say you have a match tomorrow, right?”

  He nods. “Yep. Now,” he picks up his bag, “let’s get back to the house. I’m fucking starving. I’m fixing dinner.”

  Of course he cooks.

  I watch TV while Taylor showers. He says he doesn’t need my help cooking, so I make myself at home. Cindy has texted and called me fifty times. I finally tell her where I am. She calls me a sex slave and says she’ll feed Mittens that I need the dick. Nasty ass. That’s nothing compared to Eric who has been asking me questions all day long. Have you seen it yet? You have to let me know how big he is. Are you ignoring me?

  My friends are perves.

  Taylor walks out of the shower, sweat pants low on his hips. The perfectly sculptured V is poking out, begging for me to look. “So, I hope you like tacos, because I make the best in the damn city.”

  I laugh. “You’ve been in a taco contest to know this, or are you just that full of yourself.”

  Taylor narrows his gaze and dumps some hamburger meat into the pan. “I’m confident, there is a difference, Layla.”

  “Whatever helps you sleep at night,” I say, sliding onto the barstool. I glance over as he cooks, he taste things, ask me to taste them and finally serves us food.

  When we’re sitting in the living room floor, eating on the tale, I almost feel normal being around him. I know it’s not right, I know I’m not supposed to be here, but I can’t help but want to be here.

  “You okay?” Taylor asks, sliding his plate away from him. “You’ve been super quiet. You were even quiet when I told you your boobs look great in that shirt.”

  I smile and shrug. “Maybe I enjoyed the compliment.”

  Taylor takes me in, gray eyes watching my every move. His tongue darts out, sliding against this bottom lip. “Well,” he slides away from the couch and toward me. “Maybe it would be a good idea to tell you that I want to kiss you again.” He dips his head low. “You think we could arrange one?” He smirks.

  My insides burn. “Last time you said one kiss, you put me on your lap and sucked on my breasts.” Did I really just say that? He is watching my lips now, smile rising from his own.

  “Well, what if I tell you, that you’re in control. I’ll let you do anything and if that means nothing, that’s fine. I just want to make sure you’re okay with it first. I’m not going to make you do anything, remember that.”

  The place between my legs tightens, and I’m suddenly wetter than I can ever remember being. His breath is so close to my face, he’s resting against the couch, legs out stretched under the table, a large tattooed arm stretching behind my head. Why do I want him so badly? God.

  “Maybe one kiss,” I mumble out, lip trembling.

  Taylor smirks, and grabs my waist dragging me on top of him, to where I’m straddling him on the floor. “One kiss,” he says into my mouth.

  Waiting, I part my lips desperately wanting his lips on mine. If it’s just for two seconds, I wouldn’t mind. I just want to feel him again. I couldn’t stop thinking about it as he made dinner, sat and watched The Campaign with me. I want him, now. I want his lips on me.

  Never get too close, Layla. I shake my head. Dad’s final words, the night he lay dying. No, don’t think about it.

  I close my eyes and bite my lip. Just one kiss, that’s not getting too close, is it?

  His lips touch mine, soft and sweet. He wraps his fingers in my nape and drags me closer, gripping my hips and grinding me down on his erection. It startles me, but I grind back with him. He feels so good.

  A moan escapes my lips, and he groans back, plunging his tongue into my mouth. His teeth nibble at my bottom lip, and my stomach tightens. Shit. Taylor’s fingers grip underneath my shirt, his calloused hands traveling my flat stomach until he has my breast in his palm. Sliding the strap from my shoulder, his thumb scrapes across the pebbled tip of my nipple. “Fuck,” I whimper out, trying to keep my head straight. He’s breathing hard now. My inner muscles clench as his gray eyes focus in on mine. My center presses against his growing c
ock, making me shiver.

  “I want you naked,” he whispers in my ear.

  “Taylor, I’m not sure I can,” I say back, breathless. “It’s not right. I’m putting you in harm’s way.” It’s the first time I’ve said this, indicated why I can’t be close. He stops, breathing into my neck but he continues to rub along my nipple, and suck on my lip with his full lips.

  “I can take care of myself…and you,” he says. I’m about to protest when he says, “Do you like when I do this?” he asks, rubbing his calloused palm against my breast.

  “I love it,” I say.

  “You like when I fuck your mouth with my own?” he asks.

  I’m so turned on talking like this. I nod into his neck. “Yes.”

  His hand travels down my side to the top of my jeans. “You like when I touch you there?” he asks, voice low but cutting edge.

  “Yes,” I desperately say, because I want him to touch me. I want him. All of him. I’ve been fighting it only a few days, but it seems like a year. My dad is probably shaking his head. He fell for my mother, couldn’t not be with her. Is this how he felt? All the pain I have inside of me for him letting her die vanishes. I screw my eyes close tight, thinking about it makes me squirm. I haven’t thought about it in years, I don’t like to. I shove it aside, letting myself drown in the light trying to consume me.

  I’m shaking with anticipation, while he unzips my jeans. His fingers reach under my white cotton panties and stroke me. I’ve just died. “Say my name, Layla,” he whispers, as his fingers search downward, slipping his finger into me.

  “Taylor,” I mumble against his chest, grinding against his finger.

  “Layla,” he whispers, sliding one thumb over my nipple, his other hand pressing against my sex. “If you’re not ready, it’s fine. But, I want to make you come.”

  Heat pulls at me. “Tell me I can and I’ll take care of you,” he says, pressing further into me. I’m closing my eyes, wanting more than I want him to give me.