Emotionally Compromised (Emotionally Compromised Series)

by Rosa, A.

  My lids feel heavy as I lean against him for support. His embrace tightens at my surrender, and I wonder why I was able to give it to him so willingly.

  His breath is warm on my neck as he whispers, "Are you tired, babe?"

  "Hmm."

  I feel him grinning. "It's been an exhausting night, then? I was hoping we could go for round two."

  A tight giggle escapes my lips as I notice the town car pulling up. "Well, someone had promised me that after their speech they wanted to—and I am paraphrasing here, Mr. Hunt—get the hell out of here. But that was, what? Three hours ago?"

  With him flush against me, I can feel the bass of his laugh against my back. "I did say that, didn't I?"

  The valet opens the town car's door. I slip out of Jeremy's grasp as he tips the valet a large bill, and I remember the day Jeremy gave a cab driver an obscene amount of money to take me anywhere I needed to go, no matter how hard I tried to protest. Was that only a little over a week ago? It feels like I've known Jeremy much longer.

  I watch his tall, lean frame gracefully slide in beside me, and the door closes behind him, finally cutting off the chatter of the throngs of people.

  "Well, Mr. Hunt, did you really have to talk to every single person tonight?" I let out another yawn.

  "You have your job, and I have mine." He shrugs.

  The bastard's right, you know. My subconscious is quick to chime in before I retort with something snarky. Considering the shit he has put up with for you, the least you could do is suffer a night in four-inch heels and a dress.

  My subconscious makes me smile, because for once, she is not only right, but also makes me think, and I would do so much more for him, wouldn't I?

  "Earth to Alex! Are you that tired?"

  I shake my head, realizing I must be spacier than usual. "Sorry, I was thinking." Another yawn is quick to appear.

  Jeremy grabs my hand and tugs me toward him. I don't even want to play with resisting. I scoot into the perfect place against him as he wraps his arm around me.

  "What were you thinking?" He places a kiss on top of my head.

  I'm in a tired stupor, and inhale, enjoying his clean scent. "You, of course. You plague my mind most moments."

  I hadn't even realized my eyes were closed until they open when his hand tugs at my chin, lazily turning my head upward to look at him. My eyes widen as they collide with his sparkling blues that twinkle with every passing streetlamp.

  "I'd hate to think I am like a plague," he quips. His adorable tone ignites like a firecracker of warmth in my gut, and swiftly moves through each limb, and I love every goose bump that rises at the feeling.

  Most of the evening felt normal. I didn't hear another peep from Derek, and I pretended to be the perfect date, chatting with strangers for Jeremy's sake. What makes it all worth it is the smile I see now. Every time he introduced me, he'd always turn to me with that warm, grateful, appreciative expression. My heart thuds as I realize I adore him.

  What have I gotten myself into?

  In the scattered darkness, I take in his angular features, pointed nose, and beautifully sculpted mouth. In a daze I think, I want that mouth, and he's mine. I can have that mouth whenever I damn-well please. I drag my hand up his torso and over his chest. I can feel his breath hitch in his throat at my touch. Oh, what I can do to him, and oh, what he does to me.

  I cup his jaw and rub my thumb over his stubble, loving the feeling under my fingertips. "Hmm, maybe a good plague," I reply.

  He brings his hand up to mine, and he leans into my touch. "Didn't know there was such a thing as a good plague, Miss Turner. You must be tired."

  I chuckle and close the distance between our faces. In that moment, I understand what he meant about not wanting to share me. Until my lips touched his, I didn't realize how much I missed him.

  I feel drunk with a combination of exhaustion and with how I feel for him, and apparently, after midnight, I have no power over my emotional filter. "I missed you so much."

  "I don't think I will ever tire of hearing you say things like that. It looks like I'm getting you right where I want you, Miss Turner."

  Because I'm tired and too infatuated with him to care, I decide I don't have it in me to argue. Remembering something, I pull away.

  "What is it, babe?"

  Trying to avoid the embarrassment and guilt from earlier, I reply, "Excuse me."

  I don't have the patience to get permission. As he opens his mouth to speak, I put my hand to his mouth, and stick my finger inside. I am trying to work through my lethargy and focus, and hold back a laugh at his gargled gasp. I retrieve the molar mic, and tuck it into my clutch, along with my earpiece.

  I smile at Jeremy again, knowing I don't have to worry about any inappropriate slip-ups. Thankfully, I remembered this time.

  "That's better," I whisper, placing a chaste kiss on his lips.

  "You could have asked, you know?"

  I shrug, feeling more comfortable than I ever have with him, letting him see the more relaxed me. "I'm not really one to ask for things."

  His wolfish grin is back, and I take it as approval of my behavior. "What a romantic you are, Miss Turner."

  Before I can give him a snarky mouthful, his lips crash into mine. He knows me too well.

  MARCUS GIBBS

  I lean back against my couch with a satiated grin. My shirt and jacket were tossed aside long ago, and I watch Adessa tuck my dick back into my pants as she wipes the corners of her mouth.

  She has been more than attentive since we got back to my apartment. After doing a couple lines, she assaulted me, immediately going for the button on my pants. At first, I wasn't sure, but now I am pleased.

  I can feel the numbing drip at the back of my throat, but the feeling dips all the way down to the base of my spine. Combine that with blowing a load, and I'd say I could conquer the world, or hell, destroy it.

  Adessa always seems to make herself comfortable wherever she goes, which means she does whatever she damn wants.

  I didn't realize she had left the room until I see her slinking back into my living room with a smug look. I could go for a cigarette right about now.

  Adessa has changed to a distracting, clingy tank top and shorts. Doesn't she know it's getting cold in Boston? But who am I to argue? She sits close beside me, and offers me another line of my drugs.

  I think for a moment that maybe it isn't such a good idea, but when I do, a plummeting sense of loss hits my core. I don't know where it's coming from, nor do I want to find out. Unfortunately, or fortunately, it does nothing but further my want for the crystal powder.

  I button my dress pants back up, and then lean over my table with the straw she offered me. After one quick inhale, the despair dissipates and that conquering feeling returns. The corners of my mouth twitch upward. I toss the straw back onto the table, and collapse onto the couch.

  With that last hit, my skin feels like it's on fire even though fall is creeping up on us, and I am shirtless. I feel powerful. How much blow did I do?

  I watch Adessa do another line as well, and I lie to myself, thinking that maybe she isn't half bad. My eyes move to the pistol that used to reside in her purse, but now seems to have taken permanent residence on my coffee table. Its been pushed off to the side, teetering on the edge, among a stack of unread magazines, like any other ordinary item. However, that isn't an ordinary item, and she isn't an ordinary girl.

  "When will the product be ready for shipment?"

  I don't budge, but I feel my brows tense at the question. Business? Now?

  Instead of protesting, fearful I will lose my high, I humor the question, hoping the conversation will be brief. "This week, probably by Wednesday. It could be ready already, but I'd like to run a few more tests to verify it."

  "Good." A smile slithers across her face, and I wonder if she is eager to get out of this town, and away from me. This weird pang thrums through my body at the thought. I want her gone too, don't I?

  S
he leans back onto the couch, perching her head on her hand, eyeing me like a meal. Does she ever get tired? "So, what are you going to do about Jeremy Hunt?"

  Now this question throws me for a loop. I sit up straight and find my arms acting of their own accord, pointing dramatically from myself to her. "What am I going to do? Don't you mean, what are you going to do about Jeremy?"

  I notice her eyes twitch at my question, and she leans back to stare up at me. "Well, Marcus, you could take care of it yourself if you wanted to."

  I shake my head, dumbfounded at her statement. "You hinted at that earlier. Are you nuts?"

  I notice her jaw clench, but she keeps the anger from her eyes. "It's easy."

  I twist my body to face her. "You seem experienced."

  She bites down on her bottom lip. "I am." Her response throws me. My eyebrows shoot upward. "You hate him, don't you?"

  I look away to run an exasperated hand through my hair. "Of course I do. Now, that isn't hard to figure out."

  "Then why not take care of it yourself? You have the drive."

  It sounds like she's trying to compliment me. "I don't know how to kill anyone. That's why I paid someone to do it."

  "Killing is not that complicated, and if you have me to guide you, the disposal will be the easy part. This doesn't have to be messy. I've done it a handful of times." Her eyes glitter as if recalling a fond memory.

  I shift uncomfortably. "I'm frustrated with this."

  "As am I, which is why it's better to take care of it yourself."

  "I don't want his blood on my hands."

  "Oh, and paying someone else to do it is supposed to make you feel better? I told you—no mess."

  I roll my head, stretching my neck muscles, and ask, "Well, how would you do it?"

  She scoots an inch closer. I can smell her floral perfume, and with my current high, it's pungent scent slams into my senses, entrancing me.

  "Simple. You could poison him. I mean you already have the product. All we would need to do is call a removal service." Laughter erupts from her lips as if she's just made a joke.

  Although uncomfortable with the topic, and her, I smile back and roll the suggestion in my head. "Hmm."

  "I'll pay you double for it."

  Her tone is harsh, and I perk up at her words, even more curious than before. "Sounds like you want him dead too."

  Her onyx eyes tense as she analyzes my features. "I wouldn't say he is a priority, but it would be nice to have him out of the picture."

  I'm tempted to ask her what she means, but I decide against it. "I can't believe we're talking about this."

  "I'm serious. I think you could easily do it. End him. Isn't he the epitome of everything you despise? He took that girl away from you, didn't he?"

  Her words scratch at the surface of my anger, and I find myself shaking my shoulders out this time. "Adessa, I told you: do not act like you know anything about me." I grind my teeth.

  She is quick to capitalize on my edging temper. "How about we just consider this a test run? I don't need to know the details to know he deserves what is coming to him. He has ruined you. Taken everything you wanted or considered wanting."

  Listening to the clever words tumbling out of her mouth, my skin crawls with seething hatred. All I can do is sit up and square my shoulders, trying not to let my high and my anger crash together like an atom bomb. I know enough about myself. I know I can get out of hand.

  "Jeremy has done nothing but tear you down, and keep you as a pet. He practically dangles that woman in front of you. How much more are you willing to take, Marcus? You know he is better out of the picture than in it. It would give you the life you deserve. The life you've earned. The attention you've been seeking." She places her hand on my knee, giving it a squeeze.

  Clenching my jaw, I feel every pulsating vein in my neck. I try to keep my cool, but her words describe the things that I've been thinking for years, but never had the balls to say. Now, to hear them from someone who can see my life for what it is without even knowing much about me, it kills me. If this bitch can tell, it means everyone else can as well. I must be the laughing stock of boardroom meetings.

  Trying not to erupt like a volcano, I clench my fist and swing my eyes up to hers. They've softened, but look driven by something I cannot figure out. Words leave my tongue without my permission. "Tell me how."

  My free hand reaches out to find the half-empty baggy on the coffee table, while giving Adessa my undivided attention.

  CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

  Give Me a Reason to Stay

  JEREMY HUNT

  I peek at the clock, noticing it's nearly 8 a.m. I stretch in bed, feeling wonderfully achy, and I am happy to consider it—hopefully—a feeling I will get used to. My goal is to bring Alex as close as a security blanket. When did I turn into such a baby?

  I sit up, feeling the cold, blank space next to me, and wonder where she could have run off to.

  I am beyond smitten this morning. I was worried this feeling would wear off, but after last night, it only seems to have grown. I am a man who knows the value of something, and who doesn't need time to determine what is right or wrong. I know I've hit a gold mine. I grin and rub my jaw, surprised I can manage a smile so wide this early in the morning.

  Despite of the God-awful Marcus kiss, last night was superb.

  She was a perfect date: mystifying the crowd with her enigmatic smile, and capturing attention. No person, man or woman, could look away from her. Sometimes it felt like they would rather talk to her than me. In a way, she balances the equation. Sometimes I don't want the attention.

  Not to mention her pace. She is quick to keep up, and sometimes leaves me catching up with her. Hell, the woman captured the heart of the emotionless Richard Dyvornychenko. I sign that contract Monday.

  However, my favorite part, after dragging her around for hours to different people, was leaving with her. Alongside her exhaustion was that playful girl with the reserved smile and the bubbly laughter. The side she seems to let only me see, and I revel in it. That is the version of her I hold precious. I can't imagine she lets anyone else see her soft side.

  It's when she's so tired that she can no longer keep that wall up that I see her true colors. She is in love with me, and I her.

  Wait, what?

  Am I? I don't think I have ever considered the idea for its more literal meaning, but I can't figure out what else this illness might be. She mentioned a plague last night. Well, she most definitely plagues me—body and soul—and funnily enough, it is a good plague, like she described.

  My lips twitch with a wondrous smile, and I decide it's time to find her. It's Sunday, and I only have the rest of today before the workweek. It's moments like this that I forget about the chaos. I forget about Marcus and his deranged problems, I forget about biological diseases and terrorist groups, and I forget that my life is insane.

  Bounding off the bed and slipping on a pair of boxer briefs, I strut down the hall, finding that I am following the wafting smell of coffee. It's like following a caffeinated trail.

  I pad my way to the open living room space to see Alex leaning against the floor-to-ceiling window with a cup of coffee snuggled close to her chest. She is showered and dressed. Her cascading curly hair looks slightly damp. I take in the sight of her in her low, hip-hugging jeans and white tank top, revealing enough skin at its hemline to keep me wanting. Her feet are bare, and she's tapping one of them furiously. Her mind seems occupied. Her frame, although nothing but mean muscle, looks daintily formed and wonderfully mine. How long has she been awake? I wouldn't have minded showering with her this morning.

  She turns her head away from the glass, and the early morning light makes her eyes glitter gold. Her smile is slow to appear, but her attentive eyes seem to devour me whole. Now, that is how a woman should look at a man. I find myself drawn to her, quickening my steps.

  Stepping behind her, I wrap my arms around her waist and kiss below her ear. She leans into my gras
p, and I hope that I still have docile Alex right now.

  "Good morning," I whisper.

  "Morning," she hums. The sound, this morning, this feeling, it's perfect.

  Smelling her coffee, I quip, "Do make yourself at home." Without giving her time to respond, I pull the mug out of her grasp and bring it to my lips.

  She scoffs like a child, and I stifle a laugh. "Jeremy!"

  I finish off the cup. "Mmm, delicious."

  She rolls her eyes. "Good morning, indeed! I do hope you are planning on getting me another." She's testy this morning. Docile Alex is officially on her way out.

  I turn around to place the empty mug on the kitchen table a few feet behind me, so I can turn to her and do what I've been wanting since I awoke. Her heated state makes me laugh, and I can't remember feeling this carefree, considering the underlining circumstances. She looks as if she is ready to throw a tantrum, so I reach for her face, crushing her lips to mine, stopping an onslaught of reprimands.

  She is always quick to resist me, but within seconds, she collapses into my lips. Allowing my feelings for her free reign, I press her body against the glass. Her once-resistant hands wrap in my hair, and I let out an appreciative groan as I feel her hips arch toward mine while our tongues tangle around each other. I can't get enough.

  I pull away to give us a moment to breathe. Her previous scowl is long gone, and there is a light blush on her cheeks. Did I mention how smitten I am?

  "What are you doing up so early?” I ask. “I wasn't plaguing your mind again, was I?"

  She leans her forehead against mine. "I wish it were you plaguing me." She brushes her lips lightly against mine as if begging for another kiss. Her breath is warm and smells like coffee.

  I resist for a moment. "What's wrong?"

  "I'm waiting for Derek to call me. I want to get the evidence we need to take Marcus into custody, and the rest should be a cake walk."

  "Hmm. Well, it all happened last night. Maybe you should try to be a bit patient?"

  Her head snaps up, and she wrinkles her nose. "You sound like Derek."