“Courtney,” Sam squeals. “That’s not something you ask someone.”
“Why not?” Courtney frowns. “I just wanna know.” She leans over the counter and gets a dreamy smile on her face. “Tate seems like the kind to literally rip your clothes off and screw you crazy. Whereas Braxton seems like he would be slow and boring. Although it is usually the quiet ones who are the wildest.” She winks at me and I look down to the floor and I smile. Courtney always makes me laugh. I swear that girl has no filter. I wish I could be more like her.
“Missy, don’t answer that,” Sam says shaking her head.
“Why not? It’s just us girls and I’m curious. I would think that Tate would give you more orgasms than you could count. I mean, I know no one is as good as Josh—” She throws her hands up in the air with a big smile on her face referring to her husband. “But I’m surrounded in a house full of men. Between Josh and the twins drooling and spitting up on me, I need some girl time. I need some dirty girl talk,” she adds. “So fess up. Which one gave you the most?” She wiggles her eyebrows, and I can’t help but laugh.
“Well…” I say before biting my lip nervously. Should I tell them? Will they judge me? Will they look at me like an idiot? Someone still innocent. There’s so much that I still don’t know about when it comes to sex. What would they say if they knew the truth about Braxton…?
My shoulders slump and I let out a long sigh, giving up the fight. Maybe they can help me. “I’ve never…”
Courtney gasps, interrupting me. “Oh my God.” She places her hands on my shoulders and spins me to face her. “You’ve never had an orgasm?” she says with her brown eyes bulging. “Neither one of them have given you one?”
That’s not what I was going to say but that is the truth. “No,” I whisper embarrassed.
“Oh you poor thing,” she says sadly, and Sam shakes her head at her with a frown on her face.
“It took me a while to have one,” Sam says as she starts to write on the cake in blue icing.
“We need to find you a man,” Courtney says, walking over to me
before throwing her arm over my shoulders. “A real man.” She winks and nods her head. “Tomorrow night, we’re going out. A girls’ night and we are going to get you that orgasm.”
I laugh out loud at her idea of just sending me home with some random guy. “First off ‘we’ will not,” Sam says as she writes the correct message on the cake. “Second of all, tomorrow is her birthday. The party is at our house,” she says reminding us.
“Well, I can invite some people,” Courtney offers.
Sam turns to look at her. “You don’t know any people here in St. Louis except for us.”
“True,” she sighs placing her finger to her chin. Then she gets a big smile on her face. “I could have Parker post your birthday on his Facebook page. I know the idiot has one.”
I shake my head quickly. “No thanks.” That’s the last thing I need is one of Parker’s friends. I see how he treats women, and I know his friends probably aren’t any better.
Courtney plops down at the table the guys have put in the back of the bakery and frowns. “Well, those were the only ideas that I had,” she says sounding defeated.
“Ideas for what?” Holly asks as she comes out of the back office. Holly is married to Slade’s younger brother, Micah. She and Sam used to waitress at Larry’s—a little hole-in-the-wall bar. As soon as Sam opened up the bakery, she hired on Holly.
“I’m trying to get Missy an orgasm,” Courtney says as if my lack of one is no big deal. I feel my cheeks heat up when Holly looks at me with wide eyes.
Holly laughs and throws her hands up. “I’ll stay out of this one.”
Courtney goes to speak but the door to the front chimes, signaling a customer walking in. Courtney gets up and walks back through the door to the front and I sit down in her seat.
“Don’t let her get to you,” Sam says with a smile on her face.
I laugh. “She’s fine,” I say looking down to the table.
“Is everything okay?” she asks sitting down in front of me.
I nod.
“I invited Tate to your party,” she announces, and I stare up at her. She had asked me if she could invite him. I told her yes, well, because he is her brother. And I also suspected that he wouldn’t show. “And?” I ask slowly.
Her green eyes light up as she answers. “He said he would come.”
I hang my head and let out a long breath. I can’t get away from him. And the sad part is that I want to see him.
“Hey. I can uninvited him if you’d like,” she says before placing a hand on my shoulder.
I shake my head. “No. I would never have you do that.” I’m not that bad of a person.
“Then why do you look so down about it?”
I shrug trying to make it less than it is. “I just figured he wouldn’t care to come.”
“Oh Missy,” she says with a smile. “He was very excited when I told him that you and Braxton broke up.”
“You told him that?” I ask in shock. “He seemed excited?” I whisper. Probably because he thinks he can get me in bed again. Would I jump on that if he gave me that opportunity? I want to say no, but the truth is that I would.
I’m so pathetic.
******
Later on that evening, after the bakery has closed and everyone is gone, I’m sitting at the round table in the back working on some paperwork and the inventory. Sam wanted to stay and help but I told her to go on home. It was the least I could do since she is throwing me a birthday party tomorrow night.
I stand from the table and turn around to walk over to the office when I stop right in my tracks. I watch as the door handle on the back door jiggles. I shake my head thinking maybe I’m seeing things. I haven’t had much sleep lately. I blink a few times before I focus on the door knob once again. It moves.
I run over to the counter and grab the first thing I see; a rolling pin. I wrap my hands tightly around it. I make my way over to the back door. It jiggles again.
It’s locked.
I always keep it locked when I’m here alone, which is a lot.
I reach up to switch the light off covering myself in darkness. My heart pounds in my chest with nervousness, and I try to take a few calming breaths to slow it down. No one ever comes in through the back door. Even Sam and I enter through the front. This is a safe part of town, but that doesn’t mean break-ins don’t occur.
Standing behind the door and blinking to allow my eyes to adjust, I lift the rolling pin over my head.
Why didn’t I grab a knife? Too late now.
I readjust my grip when I hear the click sound informing me they just got the door unlocked.
It swings open letting the soft light from the back alley filter in. I see something of a tall figure and then the door slams shuts just as quickly.
I take a few steps hoping I’m close enough and swing.
I hit something hard and then a deep growl cuts through my heavy breathing. It’s more of a sound of annoyance rather than a growl from pain being inflicted.
Yep. Definitely needed a knife.
I swing again, trying to make contact with anything when my upper arm is grabbed and I’m yanked forward. I use that momentum and lift my hands up, shoving them as soon as I make contact with a hard chest. It throws us both backwards into the table that I had been sitting at.
A muttered ‘fuck’ comes as we both hit the floor. Then there’s a crashing sound as if a chair has fallen over as well. I scramble to get up on my hands and knees to get away but a big and firm hand wraps around my ankle; yanking me back.
I flip over onto my back to kick and hit at it but I instantly can’t breathe as the person sits on top of me and catching my wrists. They hold them down by my head and I finally find my voice. I scream.
Two things happen faster than I thought were possible. My hands slide against the floor as they are roughly shoved above my head and held by one hand, allowing thei
r free hand to slam over my mouth.
I shake my head quickly trying to throw them off, my body thrashing underneath them trying to get some sort of advantage. My heart is beating so hard my chest hurts. I dislodge the hand enough to bite down on it. It is instantly gone as I scream out again. “HELP!”
“Missy?” a powerful voice shouts over mine.
My body instantly quits moving. No. Please no. Don’t let it be him. Let it be a burglar. The fear is gone and I’m left with coldness.
I suck in a deep breath, trying to breathe normal once again. “Missy?” he demands this time.
I close my eyes tightly. Even though it’s pitch black, I don’t want him to have any way of seeing me. Maybe the floor will swallow me up.
Tate broke my heart. He shattered it with only one word; mistake. Out of everything he had done in his life, I was the mistake. I am probably the only one-night stand that he considers a mistake. But even though he broke my heart, he still holds all the pieces. Every woman has that one man that she will never forget. Tate is that man for me.
“Missy?” he snaps, and it has my eyes snapping open.
“Yes?” I snap back, trying not to concentrate on the fact that he’s still straddling me as I lie on the bakery floor. His hands tighten around my wrist as I respond and I bite my lip to keep from whimpering. The way his body feels on top of mine, holding me down, is torture in its best form.
I remember that night in Vegas, the way his body held mine. There was nothing gentle about him. He was strong and demanding, just like I knew he would be. I loved every minute of it. The sex hurt like hell, though; I thought he was going to tear me in half. I was sore for days afterwards but I liked it. It reminded me of the night we shared. Then it went away and I was back to normal. It was the worse feeling in the world. He had walked away from me, it was as if I dreamed it all—the way he spoke to me, the way his body moved with mine, the way his lips felt on mine.
Just that thought has me licking my lips.
“What the fuck are you doing here this late?” his deep voice demands.
And just like that I remember who he truly is. A bastard.
“Get the hell off of me, Tate,” I say, struggling to get out from underneath him. Suddenly the room is too small. It’s too dark. I need the lights on and at least five feet between us.
His breathing picks up once again and I feel him starting to react from my struggle. I bite the inside of my cheek. Don’t make a noise, Missy. Don’t let him know that he still affects you. That your body still craves him.
I’ve spent almost a year ignoring him. Even when he tries to talk to me, I ignore it. I’m afraid I’ll let out all my secrets. Then what? It won’t matter to him. He won’t care what I went through or what I felt. He wasn’t there—he walked away—and I’m living with that.
“Missy, I…” he starts to speak and my body softens underneath his but I need to get up. I need to get out of here.
“Tate.” I try to be firm. To sound like I mean business. I won’t put up with his shit but it comes out as a whisper.
I’m so pathetic!
His free hand wraps around my throat. Not cutting off my air but firmly holding it to the cold, tiled floor. I arch my neck and swallow hard. How can it be so cold underneath me when my body is literally on fire from his voice, his touch?
I tighten my legs together, trying to ignore the sensation that he elicits from me. He had done the same thing in Vegas. Tate is a man who holds power. Anyone who sees him knows that power comes from rage and violence. But, nonetheless, the power is there. He is not one of those guys who is soft and gentle—and that turns me on even more.
I’ve always been the innocent girl. The one who kept her head in a romance novel. I loved the old ones, the ones where the hero was all caveman and protective over his woman. I want to feel that way. I don’t want to be cherished like some princess. I want someone who will show me things that I don’t quite understand. I want to see everything the world has to offer. The good, the bad, the ugly. I want it all. I want him.
My pulse runs rapid as his thumb slowly strokes the side of my throat. My chest rises and falls quickly and I hold my legs as tightly together as I can.
“Please,” I whimper and his body stiffens. “Let me up.”
His body relaxes on top of mine and he lets out a chuckle. In the pitch black it makes him sound like the devil himself. As if I just sold my soul. Isn’t that what I did? I traded a night with him and lost more than I could imagine.
“No,” he says simply.
I narrow my eyes in the darkness. “No?” I repeat as I try to move my hands out of his vice-like grip. No luck.
“I’m going to keep you here at my mercy.” His deep voice has turned soft and seductive. It brings back memories that I can’t suppress.
His hand runs up my throat before he dips it behind my neck. Grabbing a handful of hair, he pulls my head back. The sound that leaves my throat is of nothing I’ve never made.
His lips touch my exposed throat and I breathe heavily as my eyes fall shut. His other hand reaches between my parted legs and his fingers slide across my wet lips. Roughly he pushes a finger into me and I scream at the unfamiliar feel of him being where no one else has ever been.
Oh no. I try to calm my pants and the tingling between my legs. Please don’t do this to me. Not again. I can only handle so much. “Why?” I whisper as I squirm. My body is getting warmer and warmer by the second. He makes it crave things that I know he won’t give me again.
His thumb makes its way slowly over my parted lips. It takes all my strength to not run my tongue over it and suck it into my mouth. I want to be sexy for him, for him to desire me. “Because you have been ignoring me for months. And I want to know why.”
“Why?” I snap. His words finally help me feel anything but lust for him. “Don’t pretend to be stupid, Tate,” I huff, now mad at him.
He sighs heavily. “Missy…” He clears his throat. “I’ve been trying to make it right.”
I sigh. “That’s a lie, and we both know it.” I try to remove my wrists but his hand tightens around them. I ignore the feeling inside of my stomach. The feeling of want and desire. Just lean down and kiss me already. “Asking me about the weather, or making little comments here and there is not trying to make it right,” I hiss, mad at him. Mad at myself. But he doesn’t know the truth. I have to pretend that it’s the fact that he walked out on me after that night. But that’s only the beginning of it.
“What do you want? An apology?” he growls as if just saying ‘I’m sorry’ is hard for him. “I’m…”
“No,” I interrupt him. I don’t need an apology. I know how he feels about me. No apology could change that. “What I want is for you to get up off me and just to leave me the hell alone.” What I really want is for you to kiss me. Touch me. Remind me what it was like to belong to you. If only it was for one night.
“Fine.” He lets go of my wrists and removes his hand from around my neck before he stands up.
My body instantly feels cold with him no longer on top of me and I try not to whimper at the loss.
I fail miserably.
I squint as the light comes on, filling the room. Sitting up, I look up at him standing by the back door. His black shirt fits his large chest. His black leather jacket is on but unzipped. His worn-out jeans lay low on his narrow hips and his signature chain loops across his hip. His chiseled jaw looks tight and his dark blue eyes are hard as they stare down at me.
He reaches up, running a hand over his unshaven face, and it reminds me of what that stubble felt like against my inner thigh. The scruff scraping across my sensitive skin. It had almost been too much to bear, and I couldn’t take it any longer. I had pulled him on top of me. I needed him inside of me. I didn’t want to take it slow. I wanted him to take me like he would die if he had to wait another second.
Tate is dangerous but that’s what drew me to him to begin with. He’s like the caged animal that will strike at a
ny second. I was raised where people were soft spoken and hid their anger behind fake smiles and polite gestures. Tate says fuck the world. He is what society calls unacceptable; tattoos and a bad attitude. He’s what I call gorgeous.
I can only explain my need for him as how I’d imagine an addict might feel. One drag of that last cigarette. One more drink of that liquid that makes you throw all inhibition out the window. People beg and steal in order to get their next fix. If I thought it would get me anywhere with him, I would crawl over to him right now and try them all.
My eyes drop down to the bulge that still remains in his jeans and I lick my lips. I can clearly see the outline of his penis and my mouth waters for a taste of that perfection.
“Missy,” he growls, making me jump.
My eyes lift up to look at his and his jaw is tight, his dark blue eyes narrowing on mine. Then a smirk gracious his lovely lips. “Enjoy looking at my cock?” He arches a dark eyebrow.
I lower my head letting my blond hair cover my red cheeks. I hate how words like that still affect me. I don’t want to be the young girl who can’t say adult words. I want to be confident and sexy. I want to arouse him by whispering what I want from him. It makes me sick to my stomach that I can’t be that way for him.
I swallow my lust and stand up off the floor. Smoothing my shirt down and walking over to the back door, I speak. “Goodbye, Tate,” I say as flatly as my voice will allow, which isn’t much.
He starts to walk toward me and he grabs a hold of the door. I think he’s about to walk out when he slams it shut and then turns to me. Before I can take a breath, I’m shoved back against the wall as he stares down at me.
“Missy,” he breathes as he lowers his lips to mine and my heart breaks a little bit more.
He’s drunk!
I can smell the alcohol on his breath now that he’s this close to my
face. Tequila. Nothing he says will matter to me. Nothing he does will mean anything. Tate’s different when he’s drunk.
He’s into me.
The UN Series Complete Box Set Page 133