You Own Me

by Shiloh Walker

  She was sunshine and sweetness and all things soft and kind.

  And she owned him.

  That was his promise to her. Here, tucked in the palm of his hand where he’d kept it hidden from her and the world, was his promise.

  She owned him.

  And on Friday, he’d have to finally confess that to her.

  “You’re having a lot of fun.”

  Guiltily, Elizabeth looked up as Noel dropped into the seat next to hers at the little two-top she’d taken over at the back of her shop. She needed to go out and get lunch, but she hadn’t had a chance, as busy as they’d been. She was making do with a giant cup of coffee and a breakfast Panini that hadn’t sold.

  And instead of going over invoices, she’d been on Wanna Play.

  “Hey, Noel.” She smiled at him, although the smile didn’t seem to come as easily as it once had.

  “Elizabeth.” He slid his eyes over her, lingering on her hair—she’d let it dry loose, the curls flowing down past her shoulders. Then his gaze moved on down and he reached out, stroking his hand across her skirt-clad thigh. “I thought you’d gotten rid of all of these. They aren’t very flattering.”

  “They’re comfortable,” she said. Something clutched her throat tight. “I bought a couple over the weekend. How are you?”

  “Fine. I was thinking about seeing if you wanted to get a late lunch.” His gaze moved to her computer. “But you look…occupied. And you look like you’re enjoying it.”

  Lifting a hand, she went to close the laptop. “What do you mean?”

  He stopped her, turning the monitor to face him.

  “Noel, don’t—”

  “Hey, we agreed to this,” he said easily. “Remember? It’s part of being open. And besides…this is what I’m talking about.”

  She didn’t remember agreeing to letting him read through her messages or poke around on her timeline. He reached up and tapped a message, one that had come in from Loren.

  Can we go out again sometime soon? Elizabeth, I had the most amazing night. I keep thinking about your mouth. Your eyes. That body of yours…

  His next message was even more explicit and she reached out, tried again to shut the laptop.

  “It sounds like you two had fun,” he said, his voice easy, but there was a bite to it. “How many times have you gone out?”

  “Once.” She shrugged, kept it casual. The vein in his neck seemed to be pulsing now, no matter how easy his voice sounded.

  “Hmmm.” He tapped something and she jerked her head around to see the screen.

  He could be reading the post from O. That…

  She had to press her thighs together and even that didn’t stop the ache there.

  You keep asking about the dream, so I’ll tell you. We were at the beach. Alone. Do you like the beach, sweet Lizzie? You were naked and I had my hands on those big, beautiful breasts, squeezing your nipples while you rode my cock. Are you blushing yet, Lizzie?

  She had been blushing.

  And her face was flaming red again as she felt Noel’s eyes on her.

  “Liz, I’m sorry I made you feel like you had to do this. This is humiliating you.”

  She gaped at him. “What?”

  “The way they are talking to you, about you…” He reached over and tried to take her hand.

  She jumped out of her seat so fast, it fell over.

  “What?” she said, her voice rusty.

  “This…” He shook his head and waved at the screen. “They’re talking to you like you’re some sort of slut. This is embarrassing for you. I’m sorry I pushed you to this.”

  “A slut.” Eyes burning, she stared at him. “You think they’re treating me like a slut because they want me? That’s supposed to embarrass me?”

  “Men want sex. You’ve made it clear you’re willing to provide it.”

  “Get out.” The words ripped out of her, tight and cold.

  She didn’t know who was more surprised by it, him or her.

  “Now, Elizabeth—”

  “Get out,” she said again, flinging a hand toward the door.

  Slowly, Noel rose, becoming aware of the people turning their gazes toward them.

  Elizabeth wanted to squirm and draw in on herself, especially under the hard look he was giving her. He snapped her laptop shut and reached up, caught her arm in a tight grip. “If I’d realized you would behave so childishly, I would have waited to have this conversation later. But we can rectify that. Come on. We’ll go to your office and discuss this in private,” he said, his voice brutal and harsh.

  She twisted away, or tried to.

  Now everybody was ignoring them.

  “Let me go and get out of my shop, Noel. We can discuss it later.” Or never, she thought, while something ugly and frightened brewed inside her. He cut a look at her and she jerked in earnest against his grip as he continued to pull her toward the back of the shop.

  That look in his eyes—why hadn’t she ever seen that? She should have. Because she knew that look.

  Terror drove her and she reached out, grabbed one of the pretty glass mason jars she’d used for vases. She swung out with it. It hit him, not hard, on the temple, but it shocked him enough that he let her go.

  “You little—”

  A heavy hand came down on his shoulder. A low, ugly voice whispered in his ear, “Finish it. Please. You’ve got no idea how much I want a reason to tear you apart.”

  It was insane that she could feel relief, cold terror and a thread of excitement, all at once.

  Dazed, she shifted her attention to Decker but he only had eyes for Noel. Blue eyes glittered with the fires of hell while flags of color rode on his high cheekbones. The dragon tattooed on his arm seemed to writhe and shift, preparing to attack. When Noel tried to move away, he simply shifted his grip to the front of his shirt, holding him in place with ruthless ease.

  “Touch me and I’ll call the cops. I’ll have you fucking arrested,” Noel said, his voice a sneer. “You’ll go back to jail, you worthless piece of shit.”

  “Not before I break you into a thousand pieces for touching her,” Decker promised. He lifted a hand and almost casually, traced a finger down Noel’s cheek. “You got any idea how much damage I can do to you in sixty seconds flat?”

  Noel’s mouth opened, closed soundlessly.

  “That’s right,” Decker murmured, leaning in closer. “Be afraid, son. You’re about to hurt like you’ve never hurt.”

  “No, Decker,” Elizabeth said, reaching out and grabbing his arm.

  He tensed, but he didn’t move away.

  His gaze cut to hers. “He hurt you.”

  “A little.” Then she reached up and touched his cheek. “It’ll hurt me more if you end up in trouble over him. You’re right…he’s not worth it.”

  He let Noel go, shoved him away so fast and sudden, the other man ended up tripping on his feet and crashing into a table before he promptly fell on his ass.

  Elizabeth’s skin prickled, heat rushing over her as he moved in to stand next to her. “Touch her again, son,” Decker promised. “And you’ll find out. I might even break my record—and break you in forty-five.”

  Slowly, ignoring the snickers coming from those around him, Noel rose, staring at Decker. “Threats go over real well with your parole officer?” he asked.

  Decker tensed but she laid a hand on his chest and moved forward. “Probably as well as the video I’ll send to your boss will go,” she said, drawing Noel’s attention to her. When he looked at her, she nodded to the camera in the corner—one that had caught every last second on video. Holding out her arm, she bared the bruise already blooming on her skin. “Especially when I show her this.”

  Her comment hit home. Noel’s boss spent a weekend a month volunteering at a women’s shelter—Noel bitched about it, and often, because he complained that he wouldn’t advance with her around because she kept harping on civic responsibilities.

  “We’re talking about this,” Noel s
aid, his voice flat.

  She shook her head. “There’s not much to talk about. You wanted me to lose weight. I did.” Too many were looking at her now and she couldn’t believe she was spilling herself like this, but too much had been trapped inside her. For far too long. “You didn’t like my hair, so I tried to wear it the way you liked it. I dressed too outlandishly for you so I changed that, too. You wanted an open relationship. I was willing to try that. But I won’t let you insult the people who matter to me. And you will not threaten them. If Decker has any trouble, now, five months from now, five years from now, I’ll show that video to whoever you’re working for…then I’ll go to the cops.” With a brittle smile, she added, “Then I’ll post the damn video on Youtube…with a link to your LinkedIn profile.”

  Jutting her chin toward the door, she said, “Get out.”

  There were certain things in life that were just facts. They sucked, but they were facts.

  Fact one—Lizzie had a bruise on her and that prick Noel had put it on her, just as certain as he’d put those angry tears in her eyes.

  Fact two—as much as he’d like to batter the son of a bitch for it, he knew what would happen. No way was he going back to jail for this. If Noel had really hurt her, nothing in heaven or hell could protect the man, but Decker wasn’t relinquishing his freedom just yet.

  Fact three—Lizzie was crying and that meant he couldn’t even go after Noel and threaten him.

  With his lap full of angry, hurt woman, all he could do was hold her and stroke her hair.

  And on occasion, if he let himself breathe a sigh of thanks that she’d finally dumped the ass, well, Decker was only human.

  One small fist clenched in his shirt and he covered it with his, rubbing his thumb back and forth over her skin as he stared up at the ceiling. She curled in closer and he gritted his teeth, thought about every ugly, painful thing he’d ever been through—the worst beating he’d taken from his father. The way it had felt the first time they slammed the doors behind him. The fear he’d felt that one time he thought he’d really been cornered and he just might end up getting raped in jail.

  Even that wasn’t enough to cool the fire in him, not when Lizzie pressed her face to his neck and continued to cry.

  There was only one thing to be done for it.

  He shifted on the futon she laughingly called a couch and stretched them out, rolling up on his side, but using his knee to keep her from cuddling in too close. The knee didn’t stop her. She just went with it until she was practically riding his thigh—fuck—and her face was still tucked up against his neck while she cried, which was killing him.

  This was hell, he thought, miserably. His body was in full-blown ready to fuck mode, while everything else in him just wanted to do whatever it took to make her feel better. To stop crying. To realize she was better off without that user in her life.

  That was why it happened.

  That was completely why it happened.

  Why when she sucked in a breath and looked up, his name a whisper on her lips, he didn’t steel himself the way he should have.

  Why he looked at her and let himself touch her. He was trying to comfort her.

  That was why he wiped the tears away and when she turned her face into his hand with a broken little sigh, he pressed his lips to her temple.

  That was why he let himself kiss her again, a little lower on her cheek as a startled noise left her. “Decker…” she whispered.

  “Don’t cry,” he whispered against her cheek. “He’s not worth it. He’s not worth you.”

  She sniffled again and turned her face toward his.

  She did that.

  Her lips glanced off his and maybe it wasn’t a real kiss, but it felt like one—or the closest he’d ever gotten to a real kiss from her. At least since before the day he’d fucked it all up and scared her. Scared her into taking off into the arms of somebody who’d just hurt her, bruise her, use her—

  “Don’t cry,” he whispered again, rubbing his lips over her cheek before he went to kiss the tears away.

  She lifted a hand to his cheek.

  He went still.

  When her thumb brushed over his lower lip, he shuddered. Don’t do anything. Don’t. Just don’t…

  “I remember when you kissed me.”

  Hunger snapped its jaws around him, tried to swallow him whole. He battled it back. “That…” He clenched his jaw. “That was a long time ago.”

  Her eyes fell away. “Yeah. Before. And you didn’t really want…”

  She started to squirm, shoving at his chest. “Let me go.”

  I can’t believe I even mentioned that. Humiliated, Elizabeth tried to wiggle away but solid, muscled arms held her firmly in place.

  “Let me go, Deck,” she said, turning her head so she didn’t have to look in his blue eyes. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have brought that up.”

  There was one thing they didn’t talk about.

  That day, the next day…and the three weeks that followed—three weeks that culminated in screams, then blood…then sirens. When all was said and done, Decker was arrested while she locked herself in a prison of her own making.

  What was she doing?

  “Let me go,” she said again, shoving at his chest when he still didn’t let go of her.

  Instead, he rolled, twisted and shifting until he had her body tucked under his. “I didn’t really want what?”

  Didn’t really—

  The words clanged together, jumbled in her head, but they didn’t make sense. At all. At least not right away. She was too busy trying to remember how to breathe.

  It wasn’t that Decker was crushing her. Oh, he was heavy, but he had his arms braced on either side of her so that most of his weight was balanced there, the muscles rippling, hard…and tempting. No. Not tempting, she told herself, almost desperately.

  She couldn’t breathe because her legs were tangled with his and his hips were tucked in the cradle of hers and now…involuntarily, she rolled and she sucked in a gasp as she felt him throb against her, the hard, heavy length of his cock settling more firmly against her through the flimsy layers of her skirt, like the material wasn’t even there. His pupils spiked and unless she was just really, really losing her mind, that was heat in his eyes—she’d seen that look before.

  She’d seen it directed at others. And that one time—

  “I didn’t really want what?” he murmured, his mouth so close to hers, she could feel the caress of his breath dance across her lips.

  “Decker.” She tore her gaze from his, tried to find something easier to look at, something a little less unsettling than his eyes. She found herself staring at the strong column of his throat—flames. They came from the phoenix that spread its wings out over his back. And the flames on his neck were throbbing—or at least the area right over his pulse was.

  Which made sense, really. She had her hands flat on his chest and she could feel the rapid-fire beat of his heart, slamming away. “Let me up,” she whispered, a need, a dream, a desire she’d made herself forget twisting up from the depths of her soul. She couldn’t do this again.

  “In a minute.” He dipped his head and she gasped as his lips skimmed across her cheek. “I just…” A harsh groan rumbled out of him and that groan seemed to make his entire body vibrate. His hips twisted, then rolled against hers at the same time and that movement brought an answering moan from her.

  “Lizzie.” Her name was a rasp on his lips. She hadn’t heard his voice like that in a long, long time.

  Shaken, she looked at him, feeling drugged and lost in the heat that had come out of nowhere.

  His mouth brushed over hers. Once. Twice. Three times. And then he kissed a path to her ear where he caught the lobe between his teeth and tugged. “I want to kiss you,” he whispered. “Now…we can do one of two things. Either you tell me to stop, to go away…and I will. I’ll let this go and we’ll pretend it never happened.”

  Even thinking about that made despa
ir rise in her. It was so wrenching and so strong, she could barely breathe for it, but somehow, she found enough oxygen because she heard herself asking, “And what’s the second thing?”

  “You can open your mouth and let me taste you.”

  Now he lifted up, bracing his weight on his elbows and the shift in his position brought them more intimately together. She whimpered, instinctively bringing one knee up and arching up against him, seeking to deepen that connection.

  Realigning his body atop hers, he rested one hand on her hip, started to drag it up, up, up, until work-roughed fingers rasped over bare skin. “Which one is it going to be?” he asked, his gaze locked on her mouth.

  Heart pounding, head spinning, Lizzie stared at him.

  She couldn’t find it in her to say the words.

  So she reached up and fisted her hands in the dark, deep red silk of his hair, tugged his mouth to hers.

  Chapter Six

  Lizzie tasted of tears and vanilla and coffee and her—she tasted exactly as he’d remembered, from that one faint, brief taste. Only so much better, a hundred times better, a thousand times more intoxicating.

  Her mouth was soft, damp, hesitant under his and that was the only thing that gave him the patience to take his time. Teasing the soft curve of her lower lip with his tongue, he reached up, fisting his hand around the edge of the futon’s mattress to keep from grabbing at her.

  Then she moaned and angled her head, opening deeper for him, her hands sliding down to grip his sides until short, neat nails were biting into his flesh.

  She slid her tongue out to rub against his and his cock pulsed as though she’d been stroking him there instead of kissing him. And that image had him rocking against her, driving his cock against the heat that was already gathering between her thighs. She’d be wet, he thought, half delirious. Wet, and ready and he could make her come so hard…

  A hundred times, a thousand times, he’d dreamed about this.