Lost In Between: Finding Me Duet #1

by K. L. Kreig

  “Back to that, are we?”

  “Back to that.”

  I don’t hear him sigh as much as I see it. “Why is it so important, Shaw?”

  “I don’t know, Noah,” I growl. Maybe because I need to know how slowly to gut you. “Maybe because you’re evading. You two seemed pretty chummy in my office the other day.”

  Memories fill his fleeting smile. Hate fills my mind.

  “You’d better tell me how you know her.” And so help me God, if I find out he’s fucked her, I will kill him. Dead. On this very fucking spot.

  “Little territorial for a fake girlfriend, aren’t you?” He grins cockily. It drops only briefly but then gets as big as ever when I reach across the table and grab him by the collar, dragging him toward me.

  “Tell. Me. Now.”

  He laughs. “Jesus, I met her at Harrington’s fundraiser. Relax, Merc.” He grabs my fingers and pries them off his shirt, sitting back down. “It was entirely innocent. I haven’t touched your fake girlfriend.”

  I want to tell him to stop calling her that. And then I want to know what she was doing at my father’s competitor’s fundraiser, but that’s a question for Willow, not Noah. Remembering what he was supposed to be doing that night, I say, “But you want to.”

  “You’re kidding, right? What guy with a functioning dick wouldn’t want her? Jesus, she could make a ten-year-old pop his first fucking woody. I mean, just look at the way those leather pants kiss her every curve.” His eyes flit over my shoulder, and I follow, thinking he’s fucking with me. I’ve never seen Willow in anything but a dress.

  But he wasn’t. There she is, standing at a table in the corner across the room that has a reserved sign on it. Her profile is to me, and she’s hugging and greeting several other women who were already there.

  “Holy shit,” I breathe.

  My mouth dries. My pants grow uncomfortably tight as I let my eyes fall down her deliciously sinful form. In addition to painted-on black leathers, she’s wearing those same black heels that wrap around her ankles and a sleeveless, deep-green halter top that fits her torso snug but flares slightly at the bottom. I can’t see the front, but if it dips and shows off her fantastic rack, we are out of here.

  “Jesus Christ, she is sexy,” I hear Noah say a little too excitedly.

  I can’t find it within myself to be mad at him for saying that. She is. She doesn’t even try, and she’s the sexiest fucking woman in this entire place. On the planet, maybe.

  “Did you know she’s CJ Blackwell’s daughter?” I tell him absently, my eyes still trained on my sexpot “girlfriend.”

  “You’re shitting me,” he replies incredulously.

  “I am not.”

  He’s quiet, and when I finally manage to tear my gaze away from Willow, I see his lips are turned down and his brows are scrunched in concentration. “Huh,” he finally says.

  “Huh, what?”

  He shakes his head, clasping his fingers around his glass. “Nah. It’s nothing.”

  “It’s something. Spit it out.”

  He shifts in his seat and takes a swallow of his cocktail. “It’s just…the night I met her, she said something I didn’t understand. But now it makes more sense.”

  “What?” I prod. Jealousy seethes below the surface, but I have to put that away. At least with him. Had Noah not met Willow and hooked us up, I’m quite sure I’d be suffering in perpetuity with Lianna by now.

  I steal another glance at Willow, wanting to simply stare at her all night long. As expected, my dick swells. But something right in the center of my chest swells, too. I tip my tumbler to my lips, letting the chilled vodka slide down my throat as I force myself to look to Noah once again.

  “She said something like, ‘Sometimes life doesn’t afford us choices.’ I told her she needed to keep better company. She was there with Paul Graber.” He snarls that slimy bastard’s name, and I bristle for many reasons, not the least of which is the fact that fucker was anywhere near her.

  Once a big supporter of my father, Graber has apparently jumped camps to the man he thinks will approve his petition to tear down the historic Ellsworth Storey cottages so he can build hotels he claims are luxury. They’re nothing but a front for high-end brothels.

  “You think this is why she was working for your friend? Because of her father’s death?” When Willow came to my house that first night, she mentioned it was just her and her mother. Did her father leave her mother destitute?

  Noah’s mouth curls at my use of the word friend, but he doesn’t bother to deny it. “She didn’t say, but money would be the obvious assumption.”

  I’d already gathered that. Willow doesn’t seem the type to hang off the arms of rich men simply because she gets a thrill from it. Then another thought hits me.

  Surely her father had some type of profit sharing or stock ownership incentive or options that would pay out to his estate when the IPO launched or when the drug was FDA approved? Hell, I’d be surprised if Charles Blackwell didn’t have a patent on the drug itself.

  Does Willow know this? Does her mother? We talked about the IPO a bit the other night, which she was surprisingly unaware of, but due to confidentiality reasons, I wasn’t able to share anything about the clinical trials and that killed me. I wanted to brag about her father, about how his legacy will live on through his work. How he’ll be a household name in just a matter of months. Even if it is none of my business, it’s something I plan to delve into further with Jack Hancock because I have a feeling Willow knows none of this.

  “Obviously. Do you happen to know anything about Willow’s mother?”

  “You act like we’re friends or something, Shaw. I know very little about her. I talked to her for five minutes at a party. Why don’t you just ask her what you want to know?”

  I sigh heavily, wishing it were that easy. “She’s very private.”

  “Well, this is just temporary, right?” he says matter-of-factly. “I mean, you don’t expect her to lay out her entire life to you when you won’t be around by Christmas, do you?”

  I don’t respond because the thought of letting her go causes a giant pit not only in my stomach but a weird twisting in the middle of my chest. Yet that’s exactly what I expect. What I want.

  I take a sip of my cocktail, signaling for another round when the waitress catches my eye. Then I sit back to watch Willow.

  I watch her smile.

  Laugh.

  Gab.

  She’s carefree.

  Happy and relaxed.

  She looks young and more beautiful than I’ve ever seen.

  It’s obvious these women know her well and she’s let them into her life, not keeping them on the sidelines like she does with me.

  I’ve been comfortable on the periphery of relationships my entire life. My family and Noah notwithstanding, I never had a deep ache to get fully invested in someone else. I’m not emotionally barren or have something inside that’s missing; it’s just not been a priority or a craving.

  But with her, it’s turning into an incessant longing, and I’m not sure how much longer I can ignore it. I’m finding I like it less and less to be on the outside looking in, especially when she easily shuts me out like turning off a light switch.

  When I told her I didn’t want her to spill all her secrets, I lied, because I do.

  When I told her I didn’t know how much more I wanted, that was also a lie, because I want it all. Every piece. Every inch. Everything. It’s unfair and selfish but I want it anyway. But that also means I need to reciprocate. Can I do that?

  “She’s something else, isn’t she?” Noah says. It’s rhetorical, but I answer anyway.

  “Yes,” I murmur, not sure if he heard. I turn to Noah, and he’s watching me thoughtfully. “Why did you pick her?”

  He looks toward Willow, lingering a moment, then back to me. “There’s just something about her.”

  There’s no one like her.

  “Yeah,” I reply, my mouth cur
ving. “That seems to be the consensus.”

  Noah hesitates a few moments before saying, “Honestly, I thought maybe she’d give you a run for your money, Merc, and I’d pay top dollar to watch that unfold.”

  My curved mouth turns into a full smile. “And what do you think now?”

  He chuckles and takes a long swig of his beer. “I’m enjoying the show. Immensely.”

  I’d like to tell him he doesn’t see shit, but Noah Wilder knows me better than anyone on Earth. I say nothing.

  My attention drifts back to Willow. She’s taken a seat that faces me, but since it’s relatively dark where we sit, she doesn’t spot me. A waitress brings of tray of cocktails to their table. She hands Willow a martini glass with clear liquid and sets a round of shot glasses on the table that brim with brown liquor. All four of the other women grab them up. A striking, graceful African-American woman picks up two and hands one to Willow. Willow shakes her head, but the peer pressure is clear from here. After a roll of her eyes, she accepts. They clink their glasses in the air and down the alcohol. Willow wrinkles her nose slightly before she throws her head back and laughs.

  It makes me warm to see her happy.

  Noah and I sit in this very spot for the next two hours, chatting a little, but mostly just watching the goings-on in the club. It’s still relatively early for a party night. Not even eleven. Unlike most of the young people in here, I actually have to work tomorrow. I have an early morning meeting, but I don’t care. As long as Willow is here, I’m staying.

  I keep my eye solely on her while every once in a while, Noah will drag my attention away to point out a potential hookup for the night. He’s been gone and back a couple of times now, while I’ve stayed right here. Watching Willow.

  This is what we used to do when we trolled in our younger years. We’d scope, we’d rank our options. We’d feel them out, see how pliable they were, how far they’d go. Then we’d invite one back to a hotel room we’d secured for the night and fuck her until we all passed out. Now we don’t have to troll because they come to us. Just like the buxom brunette walking our way right now.

  “What do you think of her?” Noah asks lowly. She’s the third who’s stopped by our table tonight.

  She’s smoking hot, no doubt. Nice face, come-hither smile, killer body. “I think she’s barely weaned from the bottle,” I reply on a laugh.

  “Just the way I like them, bro. Easier to corrupt.” He winks and turns his attention back to the gazelle now standing in front of us. And that’s exactly what she is. An innocent who’s entered the lion’s den without even knowing it. If this were two months ago, Noah and I would have worked together in tandem to pervert her in as many ways as possible before tomorrow morning. Now I find I have absolutely no interest, although she seems very willing already.

  “Hi,” she says shyly, her eyes trained on Noah. Red-tipped fingernails graze the tabletop back and forth as she stands there nervously in her skimpy red dress.

  “Hi, doll,” Noah replies with his signature boy-next-door grin. Funny. He’s anything but. He nods at her to take a seat and asks her what she wants to drink. For the next few minutes, we chat politely. We find out Sadie just graduated college last spring and works as a paralegal at a premier Seattle law firm while she’s figuring out her next step, which she thinks is law school. It’s not long before Noah’s leaning close, whispering in her ear while his hand skims her bared thigh. When her eyelids get droopy with lust, I know he’s reached his target.

  Not waiting until he starts fingering her, which will be any second, I turn back to find Willow again except she’s not at her table. In fact, none of the women are. Their drinks still sit there, unattended, and I see a pack of cigarettes in the center so I know they haven’t left.

  Noah and I are at a high top, and the floor in our section is slightly raised giving me a good view of the entire VIP floor. Within seconds, I spot her group on the dance floor, and I don’t even try to tear my eyes away from the effortless way her body glides to a song I don’t recognize, but Willow does.

  She’s liquid, languid, graceful. With eyes shut and arms above her head, she mouths words about x’s and o’s while her hips swing back and forth fluidly like she was made for dancing. Or fucking.

  My hard-on is painful, throbbing. There’s no way I’ll be able to go home tonight without easing this ache inside her first. No way in hell.

  I should leave her alone. I should get up, walk to my car right now, and jack off at home to thoughts of the way those damn pants hug her perfect ass and leave nothing about her pussy to the imagination. I should visualize peeling them from her body before I claim her fast, and rough and come violently to thoughts of making her mine.

  Before I know what’s happening, I find myself drifting toward her. Sweaty bodies part on either side as if everyone can feel the ten thousand volts of energy buzzing around me. Just before I reach her, a guy with lust in his eyes slinks up behind her, grabs her hips, and spins her around to face him.

  And as I get closer, I realize it’s not just any guy.

  It’s Reid fucking Mergen.

  I practically knock over the rest of the people in my way in my quest to get to Willow. “Get. Fucking. Lost,” I growl with teeth bared, pulling Willow from his arms into mine.

  “I think we should let Willow decide what she wants,” he jeers, fisting his hands at his sides like he’s ready for battle.

  Bring it on, motherfucker. I am more than ready.

  He tries to reach for her until I grip his wrist painfully. “She is mine.”

  “Jesus, you act like she’s cattle or something, you self-righteous prick.” He takes a step closer, and Willow wedges her way between us, pushing us apart with her tiny arms.

  “Reid, please. Just go.”

  His jaw ticks back and forth, and I think for a second he’ll plow right through her to get to me, but when his spiteful eyes drop, meeting hers, they soften. It fucking guts me that he looks at her that way. He reaches for her again, but thinks better of it, dropping his hand to his side. Nodding reluctantly, and with one last hateful glance my way, he spins on his heels to leave us alone.

  Willow’s small hands touch my face, turning me toward her. I think she’s going to be angry, but she’s not. Her flushed, sweaty face bears a mask of confusion. “What are you doing here?”

  “What is he doing here?” I spit, hardly able to contain my rage that his hands were on her.

  “I have no idea. I didn’t even know he was.”

  Her voice begs me to believe her. I do. Jesus, if I hadn’t been here, I’m absolutely certain that fucker would have made a play for her. At least now it’s clear what he’s after. Her. My eyes drift across the room looking for him again.

  “Hey.” She grabs the waist of my jeans and tugs me into her. “Don’t worry about him.”

  She keeps moving her head to catch my eyes until I pay attention to her and only her. Then she smiles, and it’s bright and brilliant and warm. It reaches her eyes and is just for me. I blow out a slow breath, releasing this murderous feeling eating me up.

  I refocus on her and try to let the hatred I feel dissolve. It’s not too hard when she runs her hands up and down my chest and looks at me with her doe eyes. The erection that abated a minute ago is raging back.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I see her friends still dancing, but watching us with interest as the song changes to a sultry one by Tove Lo.

  “Willow,” I groan.

  I drop my lips to her forehead and run my hands slowly up her torso. Raising her arms with me as I go, I clasp them around my neck. With a knee wedged between her thighs and my hand at the small of her back, I bend slightly and begin to sway us to the music.

  “What are you doing?” she asks breathlessly.

  I’m stiff as a rod.

  Aching.

  My cock pulses against her stomach. I know she feels it. I want her so fucking much, and I want so much from her it’s fucking with me.

  “
I think that’s obvious, my sexy minx. I’m dancing.”

  Her head swivels, but I don’t let her get far. She’s mine now, and I want all her attention on me. Not her ex. Not her friends. Not the people around us.

  Never losing my rhythm, I slide a hand in her hair and lower my mouth to within an inch of hers. “God, I’ve wanted to kiss you for hours. You’re so damn sexy out here.”

  She bats her eyes a couple of times processing the fact that I’ve been here, watching her. “What are you waiting for then, Drive By?”

  I push the last two taunting words back in with my tongue, kissing her hard and deep. Palming a leather-covered ass cheek, I push my hardness farther into her, needing relief. She gasps into my mouth. I swallow it, relish in the rich and heady taste of her desire. My scalp stings from her grip, and I realize the hand on her ass has now slid up her back, underneath her blouse.

  Her lips leave mine, trailing to my ear. She nibbles the lobe, breathing heavy while her nails score down my back. My face is buried in her neck, sucking on the sensitive skin that meets her shoulder. The place that drives her wild.

  “How wet are you, Willow?” I rasp in her ear loud enough to be heard over the music.

  “It’s a river down there,” she rasps back, chest heaving.

  Christ. I want her this very minute, but I’m also thoroughly enjoying her curves pressed against me as we dance, so while her movements and breaths are getting more frantic, I slow mine down.

  I want to make her mind buzz and her blood thrum with need.

  I want to make her beg.

  And yes, I want to make Reid fucking Mergen seethe with envy that I will be the one buried inside of Willow tonight and every night to come. Whatever chance he had with her, it’s over. He won’t get another if I have anything to say about it.

  Anchoring her hips, I direct her seductive sway, making sure her pubic bone hits against my unyielding cock with every twist of our bodies. I scatter kisses along her jaw, down her throat until she moans long and loud. I whisper filthy words in her ear that make her breath catch. I forget where we are, getting lost in her, my plan backfiring completely. I’m the one buzzing and thrumming. It’s not until the beat of the next song reverberates through me that I remember we’re in the middle of a dance floor surrounded by hundreds of other people, but my mission is complete anyway.