by Lindsey Hart
Who the hell says those things? Fucking Rhett. Accused her of faking her orgasm. Orgasms. As in two. Okay, maybe three. As if I’d fake it. If he doesn’t remember that, he has the shortest short-term memory in history.
She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had anything more than a self-induced orgasm, like- from her own hand, but she’d never faked it. Most guys she slept with in the past didn’t really care if she got off or not. They did their thing, it felt decent, they finished, and she didn’t, they went home. End. Of. Story.
So, how the hell had Rhett given her three? In a row. Back to back.
It wasn’t just the whiskey. She was drunk but not that drunk. Rhett pounded back the better part of the bottle. She’d probably had eight shots total and honestly, it wasn’t enough to get her good and drunk. Not that she was a drinker, but she did go out with her co-workers regularly to have something of a social life and she was used to having a glass of whiskey on the rocks here and there. Okay, a little more here than there.
Faking it. Puh-lease. I’ll show him who’s faking it.
Bella sighed. She’d pretty much already done that when she chewed him out as a new asshole out there. She was normally pretty level-headed. Not much could make her fly off the handle like that. She’d flown off it big time though. Rhett knew just what to say to get under her skin. Faking it. Using him. Give me a fucking break. He’s the one in my hotel room. I bought that whiskey. He’s in my bed.
She eyed the shower, weighing the odds of Rhett being gone when she got out.
Something sharp ripped through her chest. A stabbing pain that was so physical she actually brought her hand up to rub the spot. Why did that hurt? Thinking about him leaving? Right. Because she didn’t want him to leave with such a low opinion of her and her family. Despite it all, she was a Berns and she didn’t enjoy the way her family sullied that last name. She should apologize for her outburst and for, like, seven years of their behavior.
Bella groaned. She stepped away from the door, towards the shower. She stepped into the bathtub and pulled the curtain across. With a flick of her wrist, she had the shower running. She stepped under the hot spray, savoring the way it leached into muscles she didn’t realize were so tired.
She also didn’t realize how sensitive she’d be after…
Well, after Rhett. And his most certainly not small dick.
God, how could her sister have said that? Rhett had a huge cock. As in, it actually hurt her to walk after. He didn’t just have a nice joystick. He had a very talented set of hands and a glorious mouth. The hot spray pounding over her breasts, her oversensitive nipples, and trailing down her legs, proved that he’d done something right where her body was concerned.
She was just getting into the shower, really enjoying it, losing herself and finally relaxing after the tense battle of words she’d had with Rhett, when he startled her right out of it by pounding on the door so frantically she was sure the hotel was actually burning down around them, the bathroom the only room that remained untouched.
The door handle vibrated madly. “Bella?” His voice drifted through the door. A dull thud followed, probably his head hitting it harder than he intended since the whiskey threw off his depth perception.
She winced. She didn’t move to shut off the spray, though the shower was now pretty much ruined relaxation wise. “What?” she ground out.
“Can we talk?” the handle twisted again like he expected she’d actually open it.
Yeah right. That’s a hard no. “Go away.”
“Please- Bella, I want to apologize. I- I don’t know why I said those things.”
“Because you’re an asshole?” There was a pause and she winced at her barb.
“Maybe I am,” he admitted. His words weren’t so slurred. Maybe the whiskey was wearing off and his brain was turning back on.
“So, what if you are? Maybe you should just get your clothes back on and call a cab and get out of here. You’re probably right. My family has done nothing but use you and hurt you and I’m probably no better. You should just go.” Why were those words so hard to say?
In the back of her mind, a picture of Rhett’s haunted face remained. It was masked in shadow, but even the darkness couldn’t cloak the devastation there. He’d really loved Sarah. Or at least, he thought he did. Had. Whatever. He was truly broken, and it hurt her, knowing that her family had done that to a good man.
So, I had sex with him to make him feel better? Was it a pity fuck?
No. She was damn sure it wasn’t. That hadn’t been her intent, at any rate, but she could kind of see how he’d think it. They were both just lonely. Hurting in their own ways. Out of place in their own world. And he’s panty-melting, spontaneous pregnancy inducing hot. That might have had a little to do with it.
Bella slowly shut off the shower. She ripped the curtain aside, grabbed for one of the too small, too rough terry cloth towels, and wrapped it around her oversensitive skin. When she stepped out of the tub to drip wet on the tiled floor, her pussy throbbed with the movement and damn her if that didn’t make her imagine all the things that she and Rhett could do together if she gave him a chance.
“Please, Bella, open the door.”
“No.”
“Come on. I want to tell you I’m sorry. I- I didn’t mean any of that. I’m just in a shitty place.”
That makes two of us. She closed her eyes and pursed her lips. She had to stay strong. She couldn’t open that door because if she did, she knew that she and Rhett were probably going to end back up in a twisted, sexy heap on the bed, and god… what they did was wrong. She should never have brought him back here. She should have dropped him at his house, his mom’s house, damn it, anywhere but at her hotel room with a bottle of whiskey and a queen-sized bed. Annnddd a queen-sized hole in her heart that threatened to swallow them both.
“Just go,” she said firmly. She closed her eyes, surprised when tears welled up. “I don’t need this. You don’t need this. Just go and we can pretend that this never happened.”
“But it did happen. I just- I’m okay with that. I’m not okay with being an asshole and making you lock yourself in the bathroom to cry.”
Her lips curled into a sarcastic smile. God. His words hit her right in the chest in that soft, sappy spot she didn’t even know she had. She was so stunned she couldn’t even think of a creative way to form the word fuck into a sentence and that never failed her. Ever. It was just such a satisfyingly transformative word. She’d never been at a loss before. He seriously needs to go.
“I- I wasn’t crying,” she said thickly. “But thanks. For the concern. You don’t have that kind of sway, I’m afraid.”
“Please, Bel, come out.”
She walked over to the door and set her hand on the handle. Her fingers trembled. “Don’t call me Bel.”
“I- I’m sorry. I- god. Just please come out. I need to look at you when I tell you that I’m sorry. For everything.”
I’m not. That was the problem. She’d just had the most amazing sex of her life and how the hell could she be sorry about that, even if it was with Sarah’s ex on his wedding day. Yeah… he should technically have been stealing a quickie from her sister at the moment. Like that would ever have happened. Sarah wouldn’t have wanted to mess up her hair and makeup. If it was her though… lord, she would have taken Rhett down to that church basement and found a dark corner just for the two of them. Or some kind of janitorial closet. If all else failed… the bathroom? The limo?
Stop. It’s not me. Rhett and I- we would never be a thing. He’s too nice. I would just ruin him.
“Bella?”
“I’m going back home tomorrow morning, Rhett. Can you please just get your clothes and go? I don’t need you to apologize. I know you’re sorry. It’s fine. I just don’t want to spend the rest of the evening locked in here and I’m not coming out. Please…” Was there ever a time she tacked that word on? No. It was seldom used in her vocabulary.
“Where�
�s home anyway?”
Bella squeezed her eyes shut again. She was not going there. “Detroit,” she breathed before she could stop herself. She hoped that Rhett hadn’t heard.
“Detroit?”
Damn it. “Yeah- uh- that’s where I live.”
“To prove you’re tough?”
“No. Because I went to school there. It was- uh- one of the only places I got accepted. I stayed because I had friends and knew people. I got a job. I didn’t see the point of leaving.” Why am I explaining this?
“Detroit.”
“Yeah. That’s right.” She leaned her head up against the door. When she imagined Rhett doing the same, their heat transferring from the door into each other, she ripped her face away.
Her body throbbed in all the wrong places. No, those were right, but it wasn’t right that they were aching for him. Were female blue balls a thing? If she had balls, they were definitely already blue. She wanted to throw open that door, launch herself at Rhett, and beg him to take her up against the wall. Then in the shower. Maybe on top that shitty little table they’d drank the whiskey on… the TV stand next if it would hold them, the floor after for good measure.
Fuck, fuck, fuckity fuck, I am so fucking fucked. There. Mission accomplished. Except, instead of feeling satisfied with herself for the transformation of the word into a complete sentence, she felt just as shitty. All that bad language didn’t fix anything. It didn’t give her even the smallest amount of satisfaction. Worse, she couldn’t imagine Rhett, who seemed like a genuinely nice guy, using that kind of bad language and her face burned hot with shame.
“Are you leaving yet?”
“No. I’m still here.”
“What’s holding you up? You don’t need to apologize. If anyone needs to say they’re sorry, it’s my sister and my family. They won’t, so I’ll do it for them. I’m sorry you ever met my sister and got mixed up with my family. I’m sorry that somewhere along the way they forgot that they were supposed to have a heart and care about other people. I’m sorry that you’re too nice and that she probably mistreated you all those years. I’m sorry that the sex you had with me was probably the best you’ve had in seven years.” Nice. Way to go there.
A soft laugh drifted from the other side of the door and cut straight to Bella’s stomach. It was like a punch in the solar plexus. She’d heard that somewhere, even though she didn’t know where that was exactly. She was an English major, not a Biology major.
“Maybe it was but you didn’t hear that from me.” A long sigh bounced off the door. “Okay, I’m leaving. I’m dressed. I have my wallet and my phone, so I’ll get a cab. Even if I pretend this didn’t happen, I’m still glad you rescued me from the church. For the record, I don’t know why I said those things. I don’t think you faked it and I don’t think that you did it to get back at your family. I don’t think you’ll tell them. I- I was just- in a low moment there. Because of- well- you know. I’ve never done anything like this- I’m- I really am sorry.”
Annoyingly as hell, tears formed in her eyes. They stung the bridge of her nose. She took a deep breath and let it out on a shaky exhale. She waited. Counted to ten. The silence in the bathroom was unbearable. The tremble in her hand turned into a full-on shaking so that she fumbled with the knob before she ripped the door open.
She stumbled out of the bathroom, clutching her towel to her body like it could shield her- from what she wasn’t entirely certain. She’d never experienced the strange jumble of emotions tearing through her. Tearing her apart.
It was too late.
The room was empty.
Rhett left like she told him too. She knew she could pull open the door and probably find his retreating form in the hall. She could have run out after him in her towel like a crazy person, wrapped her arms around his neck and told him to come back. She didn’t. She couldn’t.
She’d never felt so out of control in her life.
Who was Rhett really and why did he feel so damn dangerous?
She knew one thing. He was too nice. Too nice for her sister and far, far too nice for her. Even if she didn’t want to use him, she’d end up hurting him the same. She wasn’t exactly a nice girl. She’d made it a point in her life to live that way. Not really live that way but to make sure that she was a constant source of embarrassment and disappointment to her family. She’d chosen that path to make a statement.
How the hell had she gotten so lost along the way?
And why hadn’t she known she was so lost, so blind, so… so everything, until- until she met him?
CHAPTER 6
Rhett
At thirty-two, he was officially ready to hand in his man-card.
Okay, maybe not ready, but he sensed it was about to happen.
His hand shook as he pulled open the heavy glass door to the downtown tattoo shop. Someone had either painted on or drawn in those marker things that were used for glass, pictures of flash tattoo art. A rose with a dagger through it. And a ship. Yeah. Rhett didn’t know a thing about tattoos, but he did know that the stuff on the walls that people picked was called flash. Maybe? Okay, maybe the stuff on the door wasn’t flash. Maybe it was traditional.
He’d done some research. Mostly to find out where it was that Bella worked in the first place. He refused to hire someone to find out for him, though that would have been the most efficient way. He’d have his answers in a few hours instead of having to wait a few weeks. He’d done the digging himself and by digging he meant calling every single shop in Detroit to ask for Bella. Sometimes, he was politely told she didn’t work there. Other times he was told he was a stalker asshole and whoever she was, they were glad she didn’t bring her drama right there.
That only happened once. Some receptionist getting creative with his free time.
Walking into the tattoo shop was like entering a completely different world. It had that smell and that sound, like a dentist’s office. It was no less horrifying. The walls were pretty, with framed art of all kinds, a mask here and there. T-shirts with the shop logo hung off a rack in the corner. The furniture was nice, or it had been at one time. Victorian looking couches or maybe they were French Provincial. He was shit with furniture names.
There was a large reception desk at the front and a series of red doors off to the side. They were all currently closed except the one furthest away. Noises drifted out from behind those closed doors. Buzzing. Laughter. The smooth sound of voices that were too low to have the words actually be deciphered.
Rhett froze when his eyes drifted to the counter. Or rather, when a loud crunch tore his gaze away from the shop’s deco and landed it firmly on Bella.
She was behind the counter, dressed all in black. A black tunic type thing that outlined those damn perky breasts, her narrow waist, and an ass that he knew was perfectly round. Black leggings and black boots with little metal studs. Her hair was curled and cascaded down her shoulders in rich black waves. Her makeup was far darker than what she’d had on for the wedding. Her eyes were lined and shadowed, and she’d opted for black lipstick to tie it all together.
In short, she was absolutely perfect.
Her jaw worked as she chewed on the piece of celery she’d just bitten off. Rhett had to look twice because he was pretty sure she’d just dipped it into a jar of peanut butter. Sticky brown goo still clung to the end. Yup. Definitely peanut butter. His eyes tracked to the jar and he shuddered.
“Don’t knock it until you try it. Isn’t that what they say?” Bella’s lips curled into a smile, but it faded almost as soon as it started. “What are you doing here?” she asked in a much lower voice, almost a hiss.
“Uh- I saw- I’ve been following the social media pages and there was an opening today. With- uh- Rick. At one.”
“Right.” Bella rolled her eyes. “He had a cancellation. We posted it last night. I see maybe we should have given less notice.”
“No. I really am here for it.” Rhett stepped forward cautiously. “Uh- or is that not allowed?”
Bella set down her half-eaten celery stick. She glared at him, one dark brow arched like he might try something sketchy at any given minute. “I don’t know. I guess that depends on what kind of design you want.”
“He drew a panther. The post said he wanted to do that piece. I’m good with that.”
Those gorgeous dark eyes widened just a little, betraying her surprise. She swallowed hard. “Last time I checked, there are some really good artists in the Phoenix area. You didn’t need to come all the way to Detroit.”
“I- I wanted to.”
“I bet you did.” Bella glanced down at some papers she started gathering off the top of the reception desk. She reached for a clipboard, tucked them in neatly and snagged a pen. She slid everything over the top lip of the desk, making sure it scraped loudly. “Some people find tattoos to be very therapeutic. Especially after something- traumatic.”
“If you mean your sister never contacting me once after we were supposed to get married and going on our honeymoon with her lover and not me, then yes…”
“Like I said. Traumatic.” Bella snapped her gum and blew a large pink bubble.
“How the hell-” Rhett glanced at the celery. “Were you eating that with gum in your mouth?”
Bella grinned and snapped her gum again. “Magic.” She winked at him like they’d never met before. Or no, more like they were old friends. What the actual hell is going on right now? “If I was you, I’d check off the box where it says prone to fainting. You know- especially when you first catch sight of the needles.”
“Needles?”
“You don’t have any tattoos. Some people find it a little- intimidating, to say the least.” She not so subtly pushed the clipboard closer. “You’ll be fine though, I’m sure. You wouldn’t have come all this way if you didn’t really want to get tattooed.”
“Uh- yeah. I- I’ve been meaning to try it for a long time.” I also have the bluest balls that I’ve ever had in my life. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you. I want to ask you out again and by out, I mean take things back to your place or a hotel and make you come again, at least six more times. And this time, I’m not going to let you run off to the bathroom to hide. “Uh…” Rhett cleared his throat. He gave his head a shake because he definitely did not need thoughts like that tossing around. “I’ll just fill this out then.”