by Franca Storm
So, where has that left me?
Where else? Just going through the motions. Living a life I don’t even want.
“I love him, Ralph. I love someone. Why is this…it can’t end like this! It’s not fair. It can’t!”
He doesn’t say anything, he just strokes my hair gently, trying to soothe me.
But nothing can soothe me. No one. Only one person ever could. And now he’s gone. He’s left me. Me and….
“Ralph? My baby?” I ask, anxiously, pulling back to look at him.
His eyes are glazed over with tears too as he bites his lip and shakes his head at me. “No, Rox. I’m so sorry.”
My eyes snap open and I shake my head, trying to push away the awful flashes. I blow out a breath and lean against the railing in front of me. I bring my smoke to my lips and take a harsh drag.
Those flashbacks have been assaulting me ever since I saw Neil standing in my driveway that day, just seconds before he’d turned his back and really walked away from me.
I can’t even hate him. I know why he did it. He was just protecting me and, as much as I used to hate any man thinking they needed to protect me, I understood it. And I still do.
But that just makes it worse. At least if you hate your ex, there’s some closure right there. You don’t want them anymore. It makes it easier.
“Shit,” I mutter, running my fingers through my hair.
As I come back to reality, I glance behind me just beyond the patio where I’m standing, through the glass doors of the nightclub inside. It’s crowded. People are milling about, celebrating and chatting away. Thankfully, I’ve completed my schmoozing for tonight; the one thing I hate most about my job. It was a shock when I first started Roxana’s Interiors, finding out that I had to play nice now. Back in Brockford, I never had to. I could just call things as they were. But with my interior design business, I have to hold back a lot. It’s what they call being professional, apparently. It seems more like a cop out to me than anything else. But for the business to be successful, I don’t have much of a choice.
It’s been a difficult adjustment.
I wasn’t raised this way at all.
I was raised by my father to be tough and uncompromising.
Not…this.
The business has done well in the last six months. I’ve developed a good network of contacts and I’ve acquired some very lucrative, rich clients.
But the price? Dumbing down me? It’s starting to wear on me.
I turn back to the patio railing in front of me. As I gaze out into the dark night and the city lights of the restaurants, bars and clubs of the entertainment district all around me, I try to push away that antsy feeling I’ve had ever since I left Brockford. Ever since I lost Neil.
The lack of excitement. The missing rush of that intense heat and passion that being with him always gave me.
If someone had told me a year ago that I’d be here attending the opening of a rich mogul’s nightclub that I designed, I’d have laughed my head off. As equally shocking is what I’m wearing. A floor length strapless silver dress, my hair falling in soft curls about my face. It’s a big change to my usual leather jacket and jeans get up.
I pull the shawl hanging off my shoulders more tightly around me against the cool breeze blowing through the empty patio.
“Roxana,” a voice calls to me.
Urgh. I cringe the moment I recognize it. If I’d known he’d been invited tonight as well, I would have made up an excuse not to come.
His hand brushes my shoulder as he passes by and comes to stand in front of me. He frowns as he sees the smoke in my hand. Argh. Anti-smokers. They need to get a grip. Each to their own and all that.
“Steven,” I grit out.
“You’ve been avoiding me all night, so I haven’t had the chance to congratulate you on your work here. It looks great.”
“High praise coming from you,” I tell him. He’s one of my major competitors. We met through a designer convention. And I made the mistake of hooking up with him after way too much to drink fused with the excitement of starting up the business. And he hasn’t been able to leave me alone since. It’s a shame I can’t employ my usual tactics I would have used back in Brockford when dealing with a hanger-on. I’d be arrested here, though, and I’d ruin my reputation. Yeah, beating him into unconsciousness isn’t really an option.
His eyes sweep over me slowly and he says, huskily, “You look amazing.”
“I know.”
He grins. “I love your confidence. It’s unbelievably sexy.” He steps into me and whispers, “Makes me think about bending you over this railing, hiking up your dress, and taking you right here.”
Mmm…I like the words. But the guy’s all talk. In reality, he’s way too soft for me. There’s no hard edge with him which is something I crave…now. Because of him. Neil.
No, Steven really is everything that the pompous black tux he’s wearing suggests. Soft.
I press my hand to his chest and ease him back as gently as I can manage. “We’re not going there again. It was a one night stand, like I’ve told you over and over again.”
“What about the limo incident?”
“Just a kiss. A mistake.”
His eyes narrow and he grabs my arm. “You’re lying. You were into this until I asked you about your tattoo—the one with the thorns. Then you freaked out.”
His fingers brush it and I jerk my arm away. I can’t have him touching it. I can’t have anyone touching it. It’s not for them.
“See?” he says, smugly.
I drop my smoke and butt it out with my heel. “Fuck off,” I growl.
“Nasty language for such a beauty.”
Urgh. His words are enough to make me vomit all over his designer shoes. “I mean it, Steven. Back off,” I warn, fixing my purse on my shoulder.
And he would if he knew the real me.
But he doesn’t. No one in my new life does.
Does she actually exist anymore, though? I’m not so sure.
As if to test that theory, he suddenly grips my shoulders and pushes me into the railing hard, winding me. My purse falls from my shoulder and hits the ground.
My immediate reaction tells me all I need to know: I have lost her, the woman I used to be. I don’t react to stop him.
He pushes his body weight into me, pinning me against the railing. His hand grips my thigh, his nails digging into my flesh painfully like a blade slicing into my skin. How long are his damn nails?
“Women don’t say no to me, Roxana. They don’t blow me off the way you’ve been.”
“Stop it, Steven.”
“You bitch. Just a tease. And teases deserve to be taught a lesson.”
“Get your fucking hands off her!” a voice thunders from behind me.
It sounds familiar.
No. It can’t be.
I’m imagining it. I have to be.
Steven’s eyes dart behind me and I watch them go wide with fear.
Okay, maybe it is who I think it is then. He’d definitely inspire that reaction in someone.
“Who the hell are you? Can’t you see that this is private business between me and my girlfriend?”
“Girlfriend?” I basically spit. “You really are delusional.”
Steven’s eyes flash at my words and he raises his hand.
The railing shudders as the guy behind me vaults over it. The next thing I know, Steven is blown back from me by a hard blow to the face. It knocks him on his ass instantly and he starts whimpering. His eyes dart to the menacing figure striding over to him and he struggles to his feet and scurries away like the rat that he is.
My rescuer has his back to me. All leather jacket and jeans.
I’d know that sweet ass anywhere.
“Neil.”
He turns around, breathing heavily, his nostrils flaring with the anger he’s struggling to push back down.
The moment he looks at me, though, I watch the tension start to leave his body.
/>
And then he smirks at me and says, “Your taste in men’s gone to shit, babe.”
I smile. “Good to see you, too.”
“You all right? He hurt you?”
I shake my head as I kneel down and pick up my purse. “I’m fine.”
He nods. “Give me a second, yeah?” he says, making a move to follow Steven’s path back into the party.
“Neil, no!” I call out.
He turns back to me and scoffs. “Babe, come on. You really expect me to let this go? He had his hands on you and I heard the shit he said as well. Ain’t gonna let this slide. No one fucks with my woman.”
“I’m not your woman, Neil!”
He flinches and pain flashes on his face. He looks away and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Right, yeah.”
The most awkward silence I’ve ever endured in my life falls between us for what seems like forever, before he looks at me and demands fiercely, “You his then? That prissy prick your man now?”
And there’s the crazy possessive side of him come out to play.
“Why are you here?” I ask, not just to divert his question, but because I am beyond shocked at him showing up out of the blue like this.
“Rox,” he presses.
God, just hearing him say my name turns me to mush. The way it rolls off his tongue with that sexy deep rasp of his. Get a grip, Rox. Now. As I do manage it, my senses return and I realize how pissed I am about him getting all territorial and demanding over my sex life.
“He was just a guy who had his dick in the right place at the right time.”
Neil growls at that. “His dick, huh? You fuck him then? Him? That pussy-ass tux?”
“How many club whores have you had your dick in since we broke up?”
He blows out a breath and scrubs his hand over his face. “Fine. Let’s not, yeah?”
“Agreed.” I fold my arms across my chest and ask, “Why are you here? Is something wrong? It’s not club business, because you’re wearing your jacket, not your cut. Undercover then?”
“Yeah. We gotta talk.” He takes a beat, then his brow furrows. “You weren’t gonna deal with that shit head, were you?”
“What?”
“The Rox I know woulda busted his balls the second he laid a hand on you. Woulda kicked his ass.”
I look away and murmur, “That’s not me anymore.”
“Yeah? That right?”
I look back at him, about to respond, but something catches my eye behind him. Movement through the windows of the club. Steven’s in there with two security guards, gesturing wildly at Neil.
“You’ve got trouble.”
He’s smart enough not to turn around and give them a facial ID. He just nods and asks me, “You wanna take a walk with me?”
I hesitate for a moment, but who am I kidding? I’ve been fantasizing like a stupid little girl about him randomly showing up back into my life someday. And now it’s happened, am I really going to turn away from it? As much as I know I should for my own self-preservation, I can’t.
Neil always has me breaking all my rules. Nothing new there then.
“Sure,” I agree. “This way,” I tell him, leading him down the patio steps and along the sidewalk.
Chapter 5
~Ax~
Jesus Christ. I can barely breathe with her holding my hand. Being this close to her after all this time is fucking overwhelming. The second I walked up and saw her standing there facing off with that prick, my dick was rock hard. It was like it just knew…knew she’s the only one.
My entire body’s caught in a storm of conflict, though. Her touching me, even just her fingers in mine, is making me sweat with the need to take her. But my anger’s fighting to get the best of me at the same time.
I can smell it.
The stale scent of cheap cologne on her.
Another man. That pussy I just put down.
She’s been with him. Fucked him.
It’s messed up, cuz we ain’t even together—technically. But it’s under my skin in a painful fucking way, just knowing some other guy had his hands on her, had his fucking dick in her!
That’s it!
I spot the entrance to an alley to our right and pull her down it with me.
I let go of her hand and storm away from her, throwing my hands up in the air and clenching ‘em into fists to try to get rid of some of my anger. Gotta get my head straight.
“Neil, what’s wrong?”
Fuck me. Hearing her sweet voice calling to me has me making the mistake of turning ‘round and looking at her.
As soon as her eyes connect with mine, an intense possessiveness surges up inside me and I can’t get a grip on it. “Who the fuck is he to you?” I end up roaring at her, before I can stop myself.
I don’t need to press her. I can tell by the flash of guilt in her eyes that she gets what I mean. She shifts her weight awkwardly and looks down at the ground as she tells me, “Just a distraction.”
“A distraction?”
She don’t answer, just keeps looking down at the ground.
“Rox, I can fucking smell him on you! Tonight, yeah? You fucked him tonight?”
“Not tonight, no,” she says in a small whisper.
I take a step towards her. “What’s his name?”
“Steven,” she murmurs.
Fuck. Why’d I ask for a damn name? Makes it too real putting a name to the asshole.
“You…with him?”
“No.”
I move closer ‘til I’m right in her face, but I can’t see her expression. Her head’s bowed, still looking down at the ground. “So, what? He just a dick for you to ride? That it? Are there more? You just spread your legs ‘round this new city of yours now? Give all the guys a go?”
In the back of my mind, something’s screaming at me to shut the fuck up, telling me I’m being a bastard. But I can’t stop. Knowing another man’s touched her is twisting me up inside. And it ain’t even her fault. It’s mine. I walked. I made the choice for both of us. I’m such a fucking hypocrite too, cuz it ain’t like I ain’t touched the club whores throwing themselves at me. Sure, I couldn’t get off in the end with any of ‘em, but I still messed ‘round with ‘em.
But that don’t seem to matter here. All I can see is red. All I can imagine is heading back to that damn party, finding that guy she’s fucked and ripping his damn head off.
She. Is. Mine.
Mine!
“Rox?” I press. “Asked you a question.”
She don’t answer.
And then I hear sniffling.
She’s crying.
I step back, shocked.
Crying? Rox is crying?
This ain’t her.
The girl I know woulda punched me out by now for mouthing off to her like this. But she ain’t. She’s just been…taking it. She ain’t fought back at all.
“I’m sorry,” she chokes through her tears.
What the fuck?
What’s happening here?
I step into her and cup her face in my hands, coaxing her to look at me.
Red eyes filled with tears meet the shock in mine.
“Babe, you crying cuz of what I said? I’m sorry. I lost my temper thinking ‘bout him touching you.”
She shakes her head.
“Then why?”
I wipe away her tears with the pads of my thumbs. “Rox. Talk to me. This ain’t you.”
That just causes her to cry harder. Shit. I ain’t good at this. Ain’t used to needing to be with her. Rox weren’t never sensitive like this. Hell, the woman could dish it out better than me. She had a vicious bite when someone pissed her off. The old Rox woulda knocked me on my ass by now.
I can’t stand her crying. It cuts into me. Her pain is like a physical assault on me.
“Babe, I’m sorry. Shouldn’t have lost my temper.” I blow out a breath and tell her, “This ain’t like you, Rox.”
“It’s who I am now.”
“Nah, b
abe.”
“It is.”
My eyes go to her tats. A simple black cross on her left forearm that’s a tribute to the kid we lost. And, on her right arm, there’s a sun surrounded by black thorns—her and me. I tell her, “Yeah? That right? I don’t believe it. For one, you still got your tats. They’re all ‘bout us. The old you. The real you.”
She shakes her head, biting her lip.
I drop to my knees and hold her waist. “Babe, I’m sorry. Didn’t come here to upset you.”
She wraps her arms ‘round my shoulders and leans her head against mine. My hands slide up and down her hips, rubbing gently to soothe her.
They slide lower to her thighs and she grunts in pain.
What the hell?
“Rox? You hurt?”
“A scratch,” she murmurs into my hair.
“That dickhead I put down?”
“Yeah.”
“Where? Show me.”
She grabs the hem of her silky dress and pushes it up her thighs. She presses two fingers to a spot on her right thigh. I see it. Her skin’s bruised and there’s a faint stain of blood. Fucker drew blood?
I growl in fury at seeing a mark on her soft, flawless skin.
Before I can stop myself, my mouth is on the mark and I’m kissing it better, tryin’ to soothe it. She wavers on her feet and I tighten my grip on her right hip to hold her steady.
I grin up at her. “Better?”
I’m relieved when I see a smile from her. “Much.”
I’m ‘bout to pull away and get to my feet now I somehow managed to stop her from crying and actually coaxed a smile outta her, when my eyes stray to her panties, just inches from me. Big mistake. Holy hell, they’re sexy. Dark red lacy things. Shit.
I can’t stop myself.
Next thing I know, I’m licking along the edge of ‘em.
“Oh God, Neil,” she whimpers.
I trail my tongue up the other side and she moans out, bucking her hips.
And that’s it.
I hook my fingers in the waistband of her panties and tug ‘em down her legs, past her knees. Prying her pussy lips apart with my fingers, I tell her, “Been too long, babe. Missed this sweet pussy.” I lick the length of her and she shrieks. “Kinda pussy that brings a man to his knees. You ain’t got no idea.” She’s already soaking wet for me, her pussy dripping for me, urging me to feast on it.