The Bet

by D. K. Combs

This was going to be a horrible mistake, she thought. There was no way she was not going to regret this. For the thousandth time since thinking about him, she told herself she should be angry at him, still hurt because of him. He’d betrayed her trust, he’d set out to specifically hurt her. And yet...

  She must have been a masochist because she let go of the railing and slowly turned to catch his gaze, her hands clutching the cup impossibly hard.

  When he stretched, bringing his arms above his head in an unbelievably sexy yawn—since when was yawning sexy?—she took her first step toward him.

  Like a moth to a flame.

  Before she knew it, with no memory as to how she got there, she was sitting on the couch beside him, her feet tucked underneath her, the glass of water clutched safely between her fingers. She’d sat far enough away that she wouldn’t be affected by him, but close enough that she didn’t need to talk loud to be heard.

  That was all fine and dandy with her, until he sat up more and angled towards her. That put him a lot closer than she had intended, and now? She couldn’t make herself move farther away.

  He’d saved her. He’d found her at the exact right time, and he’d done what he could to save her.

  That was why she felt so safe around him, she told herself. That’s the only reason why she wasn’t putting distance between them.

  “Couldn’t sleep?” he asked, his already deep voice somehow becoming even more so. She glanced at him, then the TV. He was staring right at her. Right. At. Her.

  She shrugged, trying to play it cool.

  “I...yeah. No, I couldn’t. I just...You know.”

  From the corner of her eye, he nodded. But didn’t say anything. He remained silent, giving her time—for what, she didn’t know. The silence was deafening, impossible to handle, so she said the first thing that came to mind.

  “I, uh… I haven’t seen Tim, my dad, in almost ten—You know what, I’m sorry. I—I shouldn’t be unloading all this on—” She stood up quickly, almost tripping over her feet in her hurry to run away. A hand grabbed hers before she could step away from the couch, though.

  He didn’t restrain her. Didn’t tug her down. He just touched her hand, the brush of his fingers so soft and feather-light that it instantly stopped her in her tracks.

  “You can unload anything you want on me, Bristol,” he murmured. When she met his eyes, they were imploring her to sit down, to speak to him.

  She hesitated. Noah was the last person who deserved to hear her story. She had never told anyone, hell—she had never thought on it. But now...now, the words were at the forefront, just begging to come out.

  Bristol sat down slowly, no closer or further apart than she had been before.

  “I’ve never talked about this with anyone.”

  “That’s okay… You don’t even have to talk about it now. I just—I just want you to know that I’m here for you, if you do.”

  And that, that right there, was the one thing that had the words spilling out of her mouth. He was so open with her right now, so willing to listen, to hold her burdens when no one had ever been before.

  But then, she had never given anyone a chance before.

  “I… Okay. I don’t...know where to start.”

  “Start with your dad,” he murmured, leaning into the couch. He drew his knee up and crossed his arms over his chest. Her gaze caught his biceps, but she clenched her jaw and moved her attention to her hands. Now wasn’t the time to be noticing how thick and muscled his arms were, she chastised.

  After she had revealed who Tim was at the hospital, she had closed up. Now, the words, the memories, came pouring out.

  “Tim—I don’t call him my dad. He stopped being my dad when I turned thirteen. He, uh… My mom left us when I was twelve. She had a problem with drugs, Tim had barely manageable anger issues, and one day she just...ran off.” She took a sharp breath, and even though it hurt her throat, she had to. Her heart was close to pounding out of her chest, and she feared that if the words didn’t come through, her heart would.

  “After she left, he started drinking. His anger got worse. He never really attacked me—just berated me. Yelled at me. I learned to hide, or stayed at school a lot… I always looked like her, my mom. Eventually, he was just in this permanent state of drunkenness, and he forgot who I was. He thought I was my mom—Juliana. Jules.”

  Her hands were shaking. She only knew it because when she lifted the glass to her lips, it nearly fell out. Noah broke his pose to steady her hand for her, and she took a quick sip, then set her hand down. He sat back again.

  “When she was in a good place, like she wasn’t using or whatever, she would work. She, uh, well, one day, she brought home this old Harley for him. It had a lot of issues, so we learned—Tim and I—we learned how to fix it. It took us a while. When she went back to using, that bike was the only thing that kept Tim sane.

  “Then she left. For good. After my twelfth birthday, she just...left. He tried to find her, but once she left town, he gave up. He started to hate that bike, hate me, so we stopped working on it.” She pushed her hair back with trembling fingers. Noah was sitting there, silently. His face was unreadable but she didn’t put thought into it. Couldn’t. The memories were hitting her hard now.

  “On my eighteenth birthday, Tim snapped out of it—for a second. He stopped drinking that whole day and I was so...hopeful. I got out the bike again, and the tires had been empty of air. It had sat there for five years, so getting them off… It was a big accomplishment for me.

  “Since he was acting different, like he used to, I left my hair down. When my mom left, he would make me pull it back into a ponytail or a bun. Said I looked too much like a using whore, or something like that. There were a lot of names.

  “Uhm, anyway. He... He drank inside, while I worked on the bike. He came out to the garage, and I was so proud of myself for getting the wheel off, and he… he lunged at me. Caught my shirt when I tried to run away, took his cigarette and burned my shoulder three times. Then he just...got off me. And I left. I went to the hospital, because I didn’t know where else to go, or what to do, and that’s where I met Dr. John.”

  She saw him nod, saw the realization come over him. He was starting to connect the pieces.

  “He helped me. He helped me escape. I never went back to that house that night, or the night after. I never saw my dad again. Dr. John helped me get on my feet—job, place to live. He even helped me through college once I got my internship at Roderick Rhodes. He did so much more than treat my shoulder,” she murmured. Up until now, her stomach had been so tight that she’d felt like vomiting from the stress. “I...give back to him. Donate. At least once a month. He helps all sorts of kids, young adults. There are so many that come into the burn unit that have lost everything, and I know he does a lot out of pocket, so I...help.”

  She took another sip, this time her hand a lot more steady.

  “A few years ago, Tim got my number. I don’t know how. I changed it, but he only got it again, so I didn’t bother changing it a third. A couple nights a week, I get calls from him. I never answer. I mean, I never try to answer. Sometimes, I get so caught up that I forget to check, but...yeah.”

  “You’ve been dealing with his calls for years?”

  She nodded, looking at her hands until she felt the first touch of his finger against her jaw. The vulnerability she felt had stripped her bare. Emotions she hadn’t felt in a long time left her nearly too raw to handle much more.

  Her gaze snapped to his, and what she found...was enough to make tears spring to her eyes.

  There was an uncertainty to his gaze that left her confused, until he opened his arms.

  An invitation.

  It was wrong. It was entirely wrong and she might hate herself afterward, but she scooted close until he leaned over and dragged her into his embrace, pressing her head against his chest.

  “It’s pathetic to think that he’s controlled me all my life,” she whispered into his chest. “B
ut I just...can’t get close to someone. Not when I think about the threat he poses, everything he ever said to me, not when my worst nightmare came true tonight.”

  “It’s not pathetic,” Noah said into her hair. “Tonight will be the last time. I promise you that.”

  She looked up at him, wondering how he could even hope to keep that promise, but she didn’t question him. Not when he looked down at her with so much tenderness.

  For the first time in her life, she had told someone her story. And not just any someone—Noah. Noah, who had hurt her, betrayed her trust. Noah, who had listened to every word attentively, who was making a promise she didn’t count on him to keep.

  Somehow, despite all of that, she found herself reaching for his jaw. She found herself caught up in the moment, caught up in the warmth of his embrace, in the feeling of his heart pounding underneath her cheek.

  She found herself leaning up to press her lips against his in a tentative kiss. She didn’t want to succumb to him so easily, but something inside of her stopped resisting.

  This...whatever was between them...it went farther than a bet. It went farther than her desperate need for comfort. She might not know exactly where they stood, but in this moment, she was putting aside everything that had happened. Every memory, every ounce of pain. She was throwing it all away—for Noah.

  She leaned up to kiss him even more arduous, but he held her back by the shoulders.

  “Bristol, I… I care about you,” he said roughly. “I care about you enough to stop you from making the wrong decision. What you’re asking of me… I would gladly give it, but I don’t want you to hate yourself in the morning. I know I hurt you, and I—”

  She took hold of his jaw, just as she had so many times before, and held it as she adjusted herself so that her legs were on either side of him.

  “I forgive you,” she said, staring into his eyes, trying to convey the truth in her words. She might not know where they stood, but she knew what she felt towards him—and it wasn’t the anger that had grown so quickly inside of her. Not anymore. “I forgive you—and I want to thank you. For saving me. For listening to me. For letting me open up—”

  “I don’t want this to be a slam, bam, thank you ma’am type of thing. Or a repayment fuck,” he interrupted her, groaning when she settled herself directly on top of the hardness growing between his legs.

  “It’s not,” she said, threading her hands into his hair. She forced his head to tilt back by pulling on the thick locks, leaning down until their lips were just about to touch. “This is the start. A new start.”

  “Swear.” His voice was nothing but a growl as her body rocked on top of him, a small taste to what was in store.

  “Swear,” she whispered, right before a squeal broke free. He slid his hands under her ass, then stood quickly, leaving her no choice but to wrap her arms around his neck, her legs around his waist. He carried her effortlessly up the stairs and as he did, she couldn’t help but run her lips along his neck and jaw.

  She loved the grunts, the way he quickened his step until they were in his bedroom. He kicked open the door and then tossed her onto the bed. She sat up on her elbows, watching as he removed the rest of his clothing with quick, expert movements.

  They hit the ground, and then he was climbing onto the bed. She took off the robe as best she could, but once he was fully over her on all fours, she was pressed into the bed.

  Her legs fell open. There were no pants to worry about—only panties and her shirt, and when his hand touched her thigh, she moaned. It moved upwards, his hands firm on her skin, like he was committing the feel of her to his memory.

  Soon enough, that same hand slid up her stomach, then to the side of her waist and up, up until he reached her breast. Right at that moment, his lips met hers as well.

  They kissed with a frenzy, with a purpose.

  She poured all of her emotions into it—the certainty, her feelings for him. She felt his desire, the tenderness. He wanted to take it slow with her, but she had never been one for slow.

  He caressed her breast, nudging the shirt up with his elbow until he could reveal it, and he pulled back to take her in. She loved the look in his eyes, loved the way he stared down at her. He looked at her like she was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen, had ever touched.

  He looked at her as if she mattered.

  She tilted her head back, a silent plea for him to kiss her neck.

  He went one step further.

  As his fingers played with her nipples, his body lowered on top of hers. He let go of her nipple, his mouth replacing his hand, and then started to take off her panties.

  Though they were moving quickly, she found that she didn’t…care. She could feel every ounce of emotion in every single movement, and that was enough for her. She wanted to feel him, wanted to have in him a way she never had before. Their last time together… It had been so angry, filled with so much resentment.

  Now, though… Now was different.

  Now was better.

  And now, she had no panties on. Shortly after, her shirt was off for the most part, too.

  He only spared her clit a soft, deft kiss before sliding up her body to place himself between her legs. She yanked the shirt fully over her head and tossed it to the side, then reached for him, dragging him down to her by his shoulders.

  Their kiss was filled with anticipation, and almost too soon, she felt his head probing her, testing her wetness. She moaned, clutching his shoulders, pushing up with her hips.

  His face fell into the crook of her neck and he shuddered.

  “You’re not ready,” he groaned, reaching between them. His fingers found her clit, pinching and thumbing. His length rubbed against her slowly, torturously. He didn’t quicken or lessen his speed, even when she dug her nails into his back in a silent demand. “No. Not yet.”

  She didn’t listen to him. Instead, she reached between them, grabbed his cock, and poised him right at her entrance. When he stilled, she groaned and thrust her hips upward.

  It did the trick.

  She felt the first inch of him inside her, and by the tensing of Noah’s shoulders, so did he. When she thrust upward again, he growled, head turning into her neck to gently nip her skin.

  “I’m ready,” she moaned. “Noah, please, I need—”

  He moved.

  Slowly, tenderly, he moved inside of her, pulling back and then going forward, his body taut against hers. It was the sweetest pain she’d ever known. Just like last time, she could feel every inch of him inside of her—and there was just enough to almost be considered too much.

  But she didn’t care.

  She stretched around him, her body adjusting to her lovers, and her back arched.

  He groaned and pulled back just enough to latch onto her breast with a hard pull, a soft nip. His speed started to quicken and then he was holding her hips, just as her legs were wound around his. Her hands were buried in his hair, holding him against her breast, the combined sensation of their bodies meeting and his teeth toying with her nipple enough to bring about the first round of convulsions.

  He pumped inside of her. The bed creaked, and her moans filled the air, his groans of pleasure mixing in. She dragged him up to meet her in a kiss hot enough to scorch her, and that’s when it started. Quicker than it ever had before, her orgasm built and rolled through her, collecting momentum the same way his thrusts became more forceful, more demanding. He was seeking his own release, and when he let go of her hip to grab her by the hair to hold her to the kiss, she felt the first tingles of her orgasm, felt the first shudder go throughout her body.

  It was the most intense orgasm of her life. One hand holding her hair, the other dropped to her clit just as she peaked. He thumbed her clit like an expert, like he knew what he was doing, and his body met hers in the abyss of the orgasm. He bucked, his cock jerking inside of her as he spilled his release.

  They stayed there, lost together as their bodies rocked, as they found t
heir breathing, as they found themselves.

  Noah collapsed, but not before moving just off to the side, taking her with him so they were facing each other, their bodies still connected, arms wound tight and legs tangled together.

  He pushed her hair out of her face, kissing her cheek.

  “I think,” he said quietly. “I think…”

  She lazily opened her eyes, meeting his.

  She saw it. Saw what he was thinking, what he was about to say, and that was enough for her. She didn’t know when she would be able to return the words, so she leaned forward to kiss them off of his lips.

  In the way that he relaxed against her, she knew he understood.

  As she drifted off to sleep, cradled close by the man who had somehow stolen not only her trust, but now her heart, a final thought came to her, and her eyes popped wide.

  “Noah,” she whispered, pushing at his shoulder. His eyes drowsily met hers. “Noah, I have to tell you something. Something about Chase…”

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Here.

  Noah glanced at the latest text message. He’d gotten plenty from Bristol all day, asking about updates, demanding he tell her what’s going on. He had had to ignore her for the most part—he hadn’t had a lot of time to check his phone, and he knew that replying to her would just distract her more. In the past few weeks, she’d been going back and forth with their accountant to clear up some banking issue, as well as preparing for the new ship concept presentation with the board. She had enough on her plate.

  “Look, man,” he said, standing up to shake the hand of one of the many bike police he worked with. “Thanks for doing this, but I have something to take care of. Is there anything else you need from me?”

  “Not at all,” the officer said, looking over the notes. “I got the name, address, and the report filed. Everything’s here, and the judge—you talked to him already too?”

  Noah nodded, stuffing his phone back into his pocket. The judge was an old client of his. He only trusted Noah to do the oil changes and tuning. Heck, he sometimes had Noah over for breakfast with his wife. They were a lovely elderly couple, so talking to him about a favor hadn’t been a problem.