You Own Me

by Shiloh Walker

The message box stayed empty.

  After a minute, another question came up. Noel, you there? I’m feeling kind of lonely…

  “Yeah?” Elizabeth tried not to laugh. “Me, too.”

  She exited the window and shut down the computer, moving over to the window and staring out over a rainy, wet Williamsburg. Noel lived in a beautiful old house not far from the colonial area and she usually loved staring outside, looking at the old places, thinking about how it must have been here a few hundred years ago.

  Now, though…

  She just felt isolated.

  And trapped.

  A desperate, sudden urge came over her and she crept back into Noel’s room, dressing in silence. Gathering her shoes, her bag, checking to make sure she had her phone.

  And all the while, Noel just lay on the bed, snoring. As she slid out of his room, she felt a half-hysterical giggle rising in her throat.

  She dressed in the hall, near the front door, her fingers clumsy, while some part of her worried he’d wake up. Once she was outside his house, she leaned against the rough brick and closed her eyes. Then she pulled out her phone and dialed a number.

  It was nearly midnight, but it didn’t matter.

  Decker would answer.

  He always did.

  Back arched, Decker thrust his cock into the grip of his own hand, sweat gleaming on his body, jaw locked as he worked himself closer and closer to orgasm.

  A single, clear drop of fluid leaked out and he used his thumb, smearing it across the swollen head. In his mind, it wasn’t his hand working him closer to climax.

  It was Lizzie, always Lizzie. It had been her for years. For always.

  Her eyes, that wide, warm dark brown, lingered on his face, before running down his body, stopping…

  Come on, sweet Lizzie…

  The phone rang. He snarled, swore—grabbed the phone to throw it, but then he saw the image on the display. That face…it had Decker fighting conflicting, simultaneous urges. Of course, Lizzie filled him with all sorts of conflicting, simultaneous urges and she had ever since…oh, hey, eleventh grade.

  They were the most incongruous of friends, a fact he knew all too well. But the woman on the other end of the phone was his best friend, and the one thing he couldn’t do was ignore her call.

  Even if it did come at an inconvenient time.

  With his free hand, he grabbed the phone. The sound of her soft, almost too sweet voice was a mental caress, but all thoughts of heat and sex fled as the words tripped out of her. He gave his cock one more rough stroke and then let go.

  “Deck…hey. I…um. Can you come get me? I need a ride home.”

  He shoved himself off the bed, staring at the clock. “I thought you had your big anniversary thing tonight. What’s up?”

  A watery laugh drifted over the line. “I don’t want to talk about it right now. Just…can you come?”

  “Where are you?”

  She told him and his hand tightened on the phone. Right outside the house of the asshole she was dating. And said asshole was behind the misery Decker heard in her voice, too. He knew that without asking.

  Decker was a selfish bastard because he wanted, more than anything, to hear that she’d broken up with Noel.

  He’d been a year too late…and he’d lost his chance.

  He’d been counting down the time, looking forward to every letter she sent, looking forward to every visit, every phone call, but he hadn’t told her. It hadn’t seemed the time.

  And then it was too late.

  Just like always.

  “Gimme fifteen minutes,” he said. “Call me if you have even a bit of trouble.”

  “I will. Deck? Thank you.”

  He grunted and hung up, the muscles in his big body going rock hard at the thought of seeing her.

  His semi-hard cock came to full attention and he shot it a dark look. “You’re just going to have to wait.”

  He’d been thinking about her—as always—which led to the typical reaction and now he was going to be in rough shape when he picked her up.

  Of course, she was in even rougher shape, it looked like.

  When he pulled up in front of the house, she darted toward the car, face ducked against the light rain coming down, but it didn’t take Decker any time to figure out fast that the moisture he saw gleaming in her eyes had nothing to do with rain.

  “What happened?” he asked, keeping his voice flat. Yelling just made her shut down, and besides, he wasn’t mad at her anyway.

  “Nothing.” She sniffed and shoved messy wet curls back from her face. “Just take me home, Deck. Okay? I can’t talk about it right now.”

  Throwing his truck into drive, he nodded. “Okay, Lizzie.” Then he reached over and caught her hand in his. “But we are going to talk about it. Something made you cry and you know I hate that.”

  “Deck…Kleenex commercials make me cry,” she said, a weak laugh escaping her.

  “Yep. And if it wouldn’t be a violation of my parole, I would have done some serious harm over some of those commercials, too.”

  She undid her seatbelt and slid across the seat, using the one in the middle so she could settle against him. It was both heaven and hell for him when she did that, but he’d always been into self-torture. Wrapping one arm around her, he hugged her in close. “You’re crazy,” she murmured, sighing and relaxing against him. “Sometimes I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

  Instead of answering, he brushed his lips across the top of her head.

  And for the twenty minutes it took to drive her home, he let himself just enjoy the feel of her in his arms.

  These brief moments never lasted anyway.

  An open relationship.

  Even now, in the cold, clear, hard light of morning, the words were still ugly. Maybe not to others, but Elizabeth just couldn’t do it. Or she didn’t want to.

  But she couldn’t lie in bed anymore either.

  Her alarm had gone off and she had to get up and get moving. Saturdays weren’t her morning to open—she only had two mornings where she wasn’t at her coffee shop at the crack of dawn, but she did have to be there by nine and it was creeping up on eight now. Tomorrow, she could sleep in or have all day to brood, but for now, she’d have to brood on the go.

  She slid out of bed, moving quietly. Decker might have collapsed on her couch. He did that sometimes, and she bit her lip as she darted a look into the living room.

  Yep.

  She gave herself one moment to stare.

  Just that one.

  He was her best friend and for the years he’d been practically out of reach, she’d missed him every day. Missed him and hated herself. Because no matter what he said, it was her fault.

  Somebody made you cry…you know I hate that…

  He’d said them mostly in jest, but she knew how serious he was under those light, easy words.

  It was her fault, and that was why she only let herself have this one moment. It was a greedy thing and she was mostly over it—mostly, because how could anybody get over the beauty that was Decker Calhoun.

  He’d been beautiful in high school, the poor kid from the wrong side of the tracks—he’d made his name when it was discovered he could throw a ball and girls had flocked to him. She hadn’t—exactly. He wouldn’t have noticed she existed if he hadn’t been failing math.

  That was when their odd friendship started.

  And here they were now, still friends, years later, and while he slept on her couch, she was drooling over him, and the long, wide muscled back left bare to her, inked with dark swirls. Letters rode down his spine—far more elegantly scripted than she’d have expected prison tattoos to be.

  No Regrets.

  It was the only scripted tattoo on him. All the others were designs and she wished she had the right to lean against him and study every last one in detail.

  But the No Regrets she knew well.

  He’d showed it to her once—only once—when she’d tried to te
ll him she was sorry.

  She’d been so busy staring at the wide shelf of his shoulders, the way his back tapered down to narrow hips; it had taken her a minute to see what he was showing her.

  No Regrets.

  He didn’t regret what he’d done.

  Well. Maybe he didn’t. But she did.

  He made an odd grunting sound and she withdrew behind the wall, resting her back against it for a minute as she fought to steady her breathing.

  Then, as she heard the couch squeaking, she padded out into the living room, just in time to see him lift dark, heavy lashes.

  “Morning.”

  He grunted and turned, shoving his face into the back of the couch.

  “I’ll make you some coffee,” she said.

  By the time she returned, he was sitting up, his red hair mussed, dark blue eyes still clouded with sleep, but a smile kicked up the corners of his mouth. “Hmm. Heaven.”

  “Flattery will get you coffee,” she said, setting it on the table before she went to head to her room.

  He caught her wrist.

  “Not so fast, Lizzie,” he said, his voice gruff. She tried to tug free, but the look in his eyes, on his face was pure Decker—he was like a stone. He wouldn’t budge and he wanted answers.

  Sighing, she sat down on the table in front of him, tucking her sleepshirt around her legs. “If I tell you, you have to promise not to go crazy,” she said.

  His eyes narrowed. “I can’t make that promise until you tell me what’s wrong.”

  “I can’t tell you until you make the promise.” She glared at him.

  “Fuck.” He dragged a hand down his face and looked away. “Did that sack of shit hurt you?”

  She hesitated too long and he shoved upright, a growl rumbling in that big chest of his. “I’ll kill—”

  “No.” She caught his arms, had to push against him to make him stop. “Decker, he didn’t hurt me…like that, okay? He just…”

  She swallowed the knot in her throat, the humiliation a living, breathing thing inside her. Decker was trembling under her hands, a flush spreading up from his chest to stain his cheeks red as his fury grew. But he caught her up against him, his hands ever so gentle as he stroked a hand down her spine. “Easy, sweetheart. Easy…come on, sweet Lizzie…”

  The words sent a shiver down her spine, memory burning in the back of her mind. She bit back a gasp, only because she couldn’t ever look at him with that memory burning in her mind.

  “He wants…”

  He cupped her face in his hands and lifted, until they were gazing at each other. His blue eyes, so dark and warm, watched her…watched, waited.

  “He wants to date other people.”

  Stunned, feeling a little lightheaded, Decker stared at Lizzie, almost afraid to believe it. “He…what, he broke up with you?”

  She shook her head and the misery on her face only grew. “No. He wants an open relationship…where he sees other people. And me.”

  The fury was back. Just like that. It grabbed him by the throat and squeezed until he saw red. But he was better, older, cooler than he’d been ten years ago and he fought the fury back down. “An open relationship,” he said, his voice flat.

  “Yeah. It’s like where…”

  “I know what it means. Please tell me you told him to kiss your ass.”

  Her gaze fell away.

  Sighing, he stroked his hands down her arms and stepped away. His frustration bubbled inside, threatened to boil over. She deserved so much better than that son of a bitch. Of course, he wasn’t exactly better but he loved her.

  Had almost from the first. It was just…impossible.

  “I told him I wanted to think about it.”

  Think about it? He wanted to rip his hair out.

  As she moved away, he shoved the heels of his hands against his eyes. “What’s to think about, Lizzie? You deserve somebody who wants to be with you. And don’t tell me you’d ever be okay with this. I know you too well.”

  “No.” She stood there, her head downcast, tumbled curls shielding her face. A soft sigh escaped her and she pushed her hair back before she shot him a quick him. “I wouldn’t be okay with it. I’m not okay with it. I want to scream and cry and I thought about hitting him. But…”

  She stopped.

  “But what?”

  “He said we’d have to cool things off if I didn’t try it. Because he has needs.” Now her voice was thick, heavy with sarcasm.

  “What about you?”

  “That’s what I was thinking,” she whispered. “But I don’t want to lose him either.”

  The raw misery in her voice made him want to break something—Noel’s head sounded good.

  But that wouldn’t help her, and he knew it.

  Unable to stand there, he moved toward her. Cupping her chin in his hand, he tipped her head back, brought her gaze to his. “Lizzie, if this is what he wants, is he even yours to lose?”

  Chapter Two

  “Let him do it.”

  Elizabeth gaped at Selah, unable to believe what she was hearing. She had brooded half the day about what Noel had done. He hadn’t even texted or called to check on her until nearly noon.

  No calls to ask…hey, where were you this morning. No texts to ask are you okay? I missed seeing you…

  That had made the void inside her widen.

  Selah, of course, had noticed the misery inside her. Selah had noticed. Decker had noticed.

  Noel seemed pretty oblivious. Once they’d left the restaurant, it had been like par for the course, nothing out of the ordinary. No, sir. Her friends, though…

  “Okay. Give.”

  The mid-afternoon lull had fallen and as one of their regulars headed out, leaving the coffee shop empty, Selah turned and stared at her.

  “What?” Elizabeth asked, playing dumb. She couldn’t talk about this. It was too embarrassing. It just showed what a miserable, pathetic excuse she—

  “Give,” Selah said again, planting her hands on the counter and staring her down. “Something happened last night and I want to know what it was. If you tell me you dropped that assbag, I’m going to call up my mama and have her make up some tacos and margaritas—we’ll have a party tonight to celebrate.”

  A smile crept over Elizabeth’s face as the accent in Selah’s voice grew just a little heavier. “Selah, it’s asshat…and no, I didn’t break up with him.”

  “Oh.” Selah scowled. “Well, you should. And I think assbag sounds better—you can fit more ass in a bag than in a hat. Come on…tell me what hurts you.” Because this wouldn’t stop until she did, Elizabeth sighed and filled Selah in. Besides, maybe it would feel good to get a woman’s opinion.

  But let him do it wasn’t what she’d expected to her.

  “Are you serious?”

  While Decker was the best friend she’d ever had, ever would have, Selah came in next. Without her, Elizabeth might have gone crazy during the years that Decker had been in prison.

  She’d thought maybe Selah would offer a rational insight to this—maybe Decker was right. Maybe Noel wasn’t hers. She’d almost expected to hear Selah back Decker up.

  But…this?

  “Let him.” Now Selah leaned forward. “And that website? Wanna Play? What you do now—and I mean as soon as you get home—is sign yourself up for an account.”

  Horrified, Elizabeth shook her head. “Are you nuts? Me? On that site? I’m like a cow next to those women.”

  “Look, if he can do it, so can you. Honey, it’s a fet site. Those men? Plenty of those men are looking for women who have some curves on them.” Selah winked at her, her dark eyes flashing with something wicked and hot. “You are going to be amazed.”

  At Elizabeth’s blank look, Selah sighed. “Fet—like fetish?”

  “I know what fet is,” Elizabeth said, feeling blood creep up her cheeks.

  “Good.” Selah rolled her eyes. “My mama might spank me if she heard me explaining that to you. She sees you and she wa
nts to pat you on the head—always telling me to be good around you. Anyway, these people, some are into BDSM, some want to try a ménage…and some?”

  While Selah let the words roll easily off her tongue, even listening to it made Elizabeth blush. Resisting the urge to hide her face, she played it cool—or tried to, while Selah continued. “Maybe some of them want to try a same sex experience…who knows?” She grinned, then wiggled her eyebrows. “And then there are the guys who are just looking for a woman that is…stacked. Trust me, with your tits and your ass, you will have men knocking down your door…well, trying to. If they can get your address.”

  “You’re insane.” The bell over the door jangled and she shoved off the counter to go handle the group of teens that had come in. Selah moved to join her but once they had another lull, Selah turned on her again.

  “I’m serious. I can do the pictures.” Selah wagged her eyebrows. “Let me do your make-up. I can make you look like a loose woman. Or better yet, we will just work with what you have—you’ll look like a sweet, sexy…hungry virgin. Boys will go loco for that.”

  “But…” Elizabeth held up her hands, her head spinning at the very thought. “I don’t want to date. I don’t want boys going loco! I want him.”

  “Oh, honey. I know, I know. But he’s so stupid. He cannot see what’s in front of him.” She gave a lazy shrug, palms up. “Noel, he wants to have his cake and eat it, too. He’s got a great girlfriend—you are always there for him, you listen to him bitch and moan—and he does bitch and moan. But he wants to play, too. So…let him. Just tell him you get to do the same. He probably isn’t counting on that. Let him know you’re all in…” Now she grinned and arched her brows, the ring in her right brow winking in the light. “Or all out.”

  Elizabeth opened her mouth to argue. Only to realize she didn’t really have a good argument. Other than I don’t want an open relationship. Or, well, the obvious.

  She could walk.

  But she had given him three years. That mattered to her. Didn’t it matter to him?

  “And what if I try it and nobody is interested?”