Wrong

by Stella Rhys

  And with that, we were alone.

  My mouth parted when Abram turned to me. All that and he wasn’t even sweating, still wearing the hell out of a fitted black sweater and jeans. It felt like there was no air in the room for me to breathe. I kept my body pressed against the wall as he made his way over, his chest still rising high and falling hard from the clash with Nate. But the frown between his brows eased as he got closer. By the time he stood before me, there was nothing but concern in his eyes.

  “Are you okay?”

  “Yes.” It wasn’t a lie. I might’ve been better than okay. I had dropped Nate tonight. I’d never hit anyone in my life and my first time was a solid punch on a six-foot-two man in a raving, coke-fueled rage. Abram read my mind.

  “Pretty nice left hook,” he cracked a smile. I breathed out a laugh. “That was the highlight of my night.”

  “Sorry. It shouldn’t have been.”

  “What do you mean?”

  I didn’t realize what I’d meant till he asked. “I… know you were hoping to have a much different night than what this became.” And by ‘different night’ I mean a threesome.

  Abram smirked. “Right. Those two.” He tucked his hands into his pockets, letting his gaze dip down the front of my tank dress. It was one piece of clothing among the many I’d woken to yesterday, folded on my dresser with all the tags still attached. For bed tonight, I’d chosen the softest one, made of a gauzy beige material. Abram’s unapologetic eyes stared straight through it. “Yeah. I think you’d have been my highlight regardless. Nailed him pretty good,” he smirked, returning his leisurely gaze to me. “Plus, I like the way you look when you’re riding it.”

  My lashes fluttered. “Riding – what?”

  “Adrenaline.”

  Oh. That made sense. The adrenaline was in fact still buzzing through me but it was too late, Abram’s words already had me picturing a very different kind of riding. I sucked my lip between my teeth, hiding sheepishness as I realized I’d dreamt of exactly that tonight. I’d dreamt right down to the way Abram’s eyes gleamed at me as I bounced on top of him, his lips muttering all those dirty things he’d muttered to me in the shower as I swiveled my hips and filled myself to the hilt. In my fantasy, I’d naughtily watched him come, soaking in the grunting pleasure I’d been the one to bring him to. I remembered every last second of it.

  As Abram eyed my flushed cheeks, I prayed to God he didn’t know what I was thinking about. But when he spoke, he sounded every bit like he did.

  “I take it you’ll need some time before going back to bed.”

  Yes. I needed relief. On top of the rush of adrenaline, I’d begun to feel a throbbing between my legs – one that deepened when I looked at Abram. His face was relaxed but his body was still in defense mode, his sweater pulled tighter than how it was before Nate came barreling through. He was like a Greek god on Earth. Nate had to be two hundred pounds, plus however much coke-powered voltage, but Abram had pitched him like a baseball. “Threaten her again and I’ll break your arms.” He’d spoken the words as casually as someone would say, “See you next Thursday.” The thought still gave me chills. I’d never heard anyone stand up so ferociously for me. And I’d never met someone who could so easily follow through with his promise.

  “I’ll probably be up for a bit,” I finally murmured, trying to control myself. But I was writhing against the wall. My attraction to Abram was purely physical – I told myself it couldn’t possibly be anything else. But it was so strong I suddenly couldn’t think of anything else besides showing him my gratitude. I was desperate to thank Abram – to relax his body and touch him. Everywhere.

  I tried to quell the need by playing with my tank top, wrapping the hem around my fingers. But my lust had ulterior motives and they seemed to be working as I twisted my shirt, stretching the neckline down so far that Abram couldn’t help but look. He lifted a curious eyebrow at me, as if to ask, “Are you aware that this is happening?” but soon enough, he didn’t care. His gaze was hot and blatant on my breasts, tracking my neckline the way a bettor would a race. A wry curve twisted my lips as he watched intently. When he caught my look of mischief, he smirked.

  “What are you doing?” His eyes returned to my breasts as I shrugged. He groaned a little as they bounced under my top. The sound thrilled me.

  “I was hoping to return the favor.”

  Abram looked at me. “What favor?” When I hesitated, he smirked and spoke for me. “Making you come all over my hand last night?”

  The filthy words off his tongue made me heart pound. “Yes.”

  He paused, sizing me up. I could see the instant, animal-like hunger transforming him, making him as intimidating to me as he was so painfully sexy. The way he stood over me emanated pure, primal masculinity and it made my body want nothing but to give. To give him anything he pleased. “You want to make me come, Isla?” Abram’s voice slid over my skin.

  “Yes.”

  “How would you make me come?”

  “However you wanted.” Whatever he wanted, I wanted. I was so desperate to touch him – for him to touch me.

  Abram stepped forward so that he was almost on top of me. “Okay.” He dipped his head, his eyes down my shirt. “Go on,” he murmured. “Show me.” It was all he needed to say. With a yank of my shirt, I exposed myself for Abram, making him growl on sight. “Fuck.” He dragged his palm down his mouth, his gaze hard on my breasts as they rose and fell, heaving with my every shallow breath. I gave a soft moan. I was half-naked for him and I wanted his hands on me already. Every second that passed without his touch had me more torturously wet than I could handle.

  “Touch me,” I murmured. “However you want.”

  He eyes seared into mine. “I don’t think you mean that.”

  His words sent a wave of goosebumps over my skin. “Why not?”

  Abram shifted his weight. “I don’t think you realize,” he eyed me, “how fucking much I’ve been dreaming about this body.”

  Oh God, every word he said sent a pang of aching need between my legs. “That’s good,” I breathed desperately as he pressed me into the wall with his abs.

  “No,” he thrust his fingers into my hair, “it’s not.”

  “Why?”

  Abram’s lip curled as he squeezed my fistful of my locks, his other hand ripping my tank dress down my hips with my panties, till both were puddles of cotton on the floor. My pulse rose again when both his hands cupped my breasts, pushing them up and together as he breathed the skin of my neck. “Because I felt that pussy last night. Wrapped around my fingers. Tighter than anything I’ve ever felt in my life,” he rasped. “And if I do exactly what I want to do to you,” he lowered his lips to my breast, “I’ll be thinking way too often,” he sucked my nipple, “about how fucking good my cock felt inside you.”

  My jaw dropped as I gasped for air and begged him. I begged breathily for his touch, desperately, endlessly until he pulled an angry, throaty sound deep from his chest. It electrified me as he finally said the words I’d been waiting for.

  “Get on the bed.”

  I did, exhaling heat when I immediately felt his weight on top of me, his hands undoing his jeans and reaching for his cock. It fell heavily onto my legs, settling between my thighs as he slid his hands under my back to bring my breasts up higher for his mouth. I arched it, moaning as he nibbled me, his smooth helmet pulsing right against my bare pussy. He thrust lightly on top of me, teasing my aching sex. In need, I grabbed a handful of the sheets. But my palms still raw, I gasped in pain and suddenly, Abram was on his feet again.

  His eyes blinked hard at my bruises as a sober look drifted into them. I could see a switch flipping. Fuck. Please, keep going, please. “Abram – ”

  “No,” he cut me off brusquely, facing me with a look that made me feel like a child in trouble. “I’m sorry, Isla.” His voice was cold, hard as stone. “But this is not what this is,” he said before disappearing out the door.

  chapter nine
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  I snuck out of the penthouse before dawn, still without my keys. Not the smartest move but I simply couldn’t be there any longer. Two nights at Abram’s place and I’d already gone through highs and lows so extreme that my mind was effectively fucked. I couldn’t understand how I was feeling, why I’d cried or what had actually happened last night. What I did know was that I mortified and I needed out.

  So with no access to home, I reported to Alma’s. Reece agreed to let me work as long I covered up my stitches. “On the bright side, you’re still clearly a gorgeous girl.” He stroked my lower back, never failing to make a harmless compliment feel creepy. “I know it’s dead but I’m happy you chose to work today, Isla.”

  Laurel simpered while leaning on the counter next to me. “Same. I had all the best tables during the rush. Must be the whole not-wanting-to-look-at-a-busted-up-face-while-eating thing. Insert joke about how your face wasn’t all that to begin with.”

  “Creative.” I faced away from everyone as I married the ketchups. Both my tables had just closed out and I had nothing left to do. It was Memorial Day weekend and as quiet as it got in the city, so with true boredom, I focused on Alma’s condiments while tuning out Reece, Laurel and her two girlfriends, who claimed that they had plans in the Hamptons but gave them up to be with her.

  “Well then, you know what? We should all go out tonight. First round of shots on me,” Reece grinned wide as Laurel ran an ice cube down his arm.

  “Ooh, sweetie. To a club?” she batted her lashes.

  “Yeah. The city’s dead, we’d get in anywhere tonight. Go ahead – name all the hardest doors in Manhattan.”

  Please, not this conversation. I waited for it. Only a couple names were thrown around before Reece finally said the most obvious answer.

  “How about the Monarch?”

  Laurel’s friend burst into giggles. “We’re not allowed to talk about that place in front of Laurel. She dropped two hundred dollars on a dress to get in last year and got re-jec-ted.”

  “Whore! Shut up.” Laurel flipped her laughing friend off. “And please, if I can’t get into the Monarch, none of you ugly bitches can. Especially not Franken-face here,” she nodded at me.

  I arranged the bottles on the counter. I always thought I’d treasure the day that I could shoot down one of Laurel’s stupid remarks with cold, hard proof, but today, she didn’t strike me as remotely worth it. I had snapped a picture of Abram’s breathtaking view from the penthouse but I didn’t want to show it to anyone, least of all her. I didn’t want to have to answer questions about him. I was still trying to figure out one of my own. “This is not what this is.” His words played over and over in my head and no matter how I interpreted them, I cringed. They made me foolish. Presumptuous.

  Laurel took my silence as anger. “Lighten up, girl, it was a joke. God, we need to get you laid.” She flashed a bright smile. “Know what? I’m friends with this super hot model guy. He’s out of your league but his creepy roommate would totally sleep with you.”

  God.

  “Laurel.” I finally faced her with exasperation. “There has to be a better way to stroke your own ego than – ”

  “Hello, welcome to Alma’s!” Reece cut me off with a loud greeting to whoever just walked in. It was his code for “everyone shut up and look like you’re doing things,” and it usually worked, even on Laurel. Being an asshole to coworkers didn’t keep her from being professional to guests. But today she dropped her jaw and cursed straight in the face of one.

  “Holy shit, hello!” she squealed, immediately clasping two hands to her mouth and giggling at herself. Heart already pounding, I spun around to see who could’ve elicited that reaction.

  Of fucking course.

  Something was wrong with me. I was far less shocked than I should’ve been to be watching Abram Lenox step foot into Alma’s Diner, wearing a heather grey Henley and dark jeans. I was floored, as always, but not so much shocked. Maybe I’d felt his presence a second before Laurel’s squeal. Or maybe I had a feeling, despite trying not to be presumptuous, that he would come looking for me. I didn’t know. I had no idea what it was. All I knew was that nothing I felt around this man was ever near the realm of normal.

  Standing behind everyone, I glanced at Abram, knowing that behind his shades, he looked straight at me. But as he removed them, Laurel flounced to him, putting a hand on his arm. “Would you like a seat, sir?” she nodded at one of her tables.

  “No, thanks. I’m only here to see Isla.”

  Heat bloomed in my cheeks. The sound of my name on his lips tended to have that effect, even when I was vaguely sure that I hated him. I watched as every head in the house turned to me. Laurel’s eyes were wide as she pointed. “That Isla?”

  Abram laughed. “She’s the only one I know.”

  After several minutes of everyone’s continued shock and my continued silence, Abram wound up seated at one of my booths, already looking at me when I reached his tableside. I unstuck my tongue from the roof of my mouth as I cocked an eyebrow at him, my throat far too tight to speak. Thankfully, he spoke first.

  “I still have your keys.”

  Laurel’s friends burst into whispers. I still have your keys. I’m sure they were assuming a hundred things that were completely wrong but I let them do it.

  “I know.”

  “How did you plan on going home today?”

  “No idea. I spent my last three dollars on the train here.”

  Abram kept his stare fixed on me. “How much do you earn here?”

  “What?”

  “On average, per day, what do you make. And while we’re at it, how much do you pay for rent?”

  “Why do you need to know any of this?”

  “I’m sure you could guess if you thought hard enough but I take it you’re not in the mood, so just answer my question.”

  I bristled. “Answer mine.”

  “Ask one.”

  “What the hell was that last night?” Sugarcoating. Since all this drama, I’d apparently lost patience for the kind of thing.

  “Are you asking why I stopped you?”

  “What else would I be referring to?”

  “I’m not sure this is the best place for me to explain.”

  “Well, it’s the only place you’re gonna get me.”

  Abram eyed me before taking a deep breath and gazing forward. “I singlehandedly turned your life upside down, Isla. I took you into my home for that reason. Not so you’d feel obligated to give me whatever I wanted from you as repayment. As hot as it is to picture you as my sex slave, the reality would be too fucked up for even a piece of shit like me to stomach.”

  I stared. It made a little more sense now that I heard it from his lips. I wet mine as I replied quietly. “I didn’t feel obligated, Abram. Women are interested in sex too.”

  “That much I know. But the other issue is that I haven’t stopped thinking about you since the night I found you. And I’m sure you realize, considering the events that took place that I have a couple things to take care of right now. I need to be focused and I can’t stay that way when every few minutes, I think about your body and how tight you felt around my fingers when I made you come, so for that reason,” he lowered his voice, “I don’t think I want to know how good I would feel inside you. I’ve thought about you enough as it is.”

  I had chewed my thumbnail down to nothing by the end of his explanation.

  “Now that I’ve answered your question, I’d like you to answer mine.”

  Cheeks still red, I obliged. “I’ve been making about a hundred-twenty a shift. I can break almost three in the winter. Rent’s thirteen hundred dollars,” I tried to rattle off the numbers without wincing but my finances were such a nightmare. My studio was part of a two-year lease I’d begun while still teaching, when living alone was good for work and over a grand a month didn’t hurt. But now it broke the bank right in half. I spent fifty percent of my monthly tips on rent and another quarter on bills and a me
ager grocery list. I’d only begun riding my dumb bike because MetroCards had gotten too pricey. And still, I was in debt.

  “That’s bleak,” Abram remarked.

  “I’m aware, thanks.”

  “Well, aside from apologizing for last night I’m here to offer you a job that’ll make you no less than six hundred a night. Housing would be at the Monarch. Pay what you want.”

  I stared. I could feel my coworkers doing the same. “What are you talking about, Abram?”

  “Killing two birds with one stone. I figure this gig would help with your financial situation as well as Nate’s paranoia.”

  “I don’t understand how it would fix the latter,” I said, but Abram had no chance to reply because suddenly, Laurel bounced over, hair fluffed up and shirt pulled down.

  “I’m so sorry but did you say you worked at the Monarch?” she breathed at Abram. He looked at her.

  “Yes. I own the place.”

  Laurel’s mouth opened so wide I was sure she planned on eating him. “Um – what? That’s crazy! Wait, then I totally know who you are. I’ve read about you. Oh my God, I’ve read about you! You’re like, famous, what are you even doing here?”

  Abram nodded at me. “Well, she snuck out of my apartment this morning and now I’m trying to get her back. Any suggestions?” he smirked.

  Laurel’s smile faded fast but she managed to muster up another one, though it was strained and looked half-crazy since she’d yet to blink in the past fifteen seconds. “Uh… no. Sorry,” was all she said before turning to me with a dozen different questions on the tip of her tongue, none of which ever came out. I was too amused not to say it.

  “I’ve been inside the Monarch, by the way. It’s nice.”

  Laurel glared. In an instant, she was red-faced and sputtering. “Well – yeah, ‘cause you’re… like, a prostitute,” she hissed in a stammer. Her mouth opened to spew more but she had nothing left in her arsenal so I just nodded and laughed.