Control You

by Snyder, Jennifer

  “I’ll take a water, please,” Blaire answered.

  “Another mojito for me,” Lauren chimed in.

  “And what about you two? Can I get you anything?” the waitress asked.

  Eva and I both shook our heads in response. I took a swig of my Jack and Coke, wondering if the conversation would pick up where it had left off before the convenient interruption. I was curious to hear Paige’s reply.

  “So, what are the two of you doing here?” Paige asked. Her glance shifted to Eva. “Are you guys on a date or something?”

  She didn’t believe me. I’d just opened my mouth to say so when Eva burst into a fit of laughter.

  “Yeah right.” Eva flung her long hair over her shoulder and leaned on her elbows against the tabletop. “Cameron and I are just friends and nothing more. We actually came here tonight to see who could gain the most numbers of the opposite sex.”

  “Who’s winning?” Blaire finished off the last few sips of her cocktail and licked her lips.

  I pointed to Eva and smiled. “She won.”

  “Is that something you guys generally do?” Lauren pushed her empty glass out of the way to make room for the one the waitress was getting ready to set in front of her. “It sounds like a blast.”

  “We haven’t attempted it in a while.” Eva grinned. “And it is. When I need a pick me up night like you were talking about, Cam is always my go-to friend. Whenever he’s in town, that is.” She cut her eyes at me.

  “Hey, I’ve been in town a lot more lately, and I plan to keep it that way for at least a while,” I insisted.

  “Well, anytime he’s not here and you need to head to the bar for a little alcohol stress-buster, let me know,” Lauren offered as the waitress handed her a new drink.

  “For sure,” Paige chimed in. Her lips were already wrapped around the straw in her fresh mojito. All I could think about for sixty seconds straight were those lips and how I wished they could be wrapped around something of mine.

  An hour later, Lauren and Eva were laughing and dancing together near the jukebox, while Paige, Blaire, and I sat at the table talking about random things. Paige was on her fourth mojito, and I was finishing off my third Jack and Coke.

  “I really need to use the restroom. What about you, Paige?” Blaire asked as she stood to leave the table.

  Paige bit the tip of her straw and shook her head. “No, I’m good.”

  Blaire smiled at her. “Okay.”

  Once Blaire was out of earshot, I leaned in and asked the question I’d always wanted to know the answer to. “Why do girls never seem to go to the bathroom alone? If a guy randomly stood up and said, ‘I have to take a leak, wanna come,’ there would be crazy thoughts spinning in everyone’s heads. For girls, it’s acceptable though. Why is that?”

  “I don’t know.” Paige lifted her big brown eyes to mine and stared. “I’ve never really thought about it before, but you’re right. The only reason why Blaire wanted me to go with her, though, was because she wants to talk to me. Probably about you.” She pointed at me, while flashing me a little tipsy smile.

  “Is that so?” I chuckled and studied her for a moment.

  She was wasted. Her eyes were glossed over, and her cheeks and neck were a little splotchy from the alcohol coursing through her system. A thought came to me then. Was Paige one of those truth serum type drunks? Dear God, I loved those women. You could get so much out of them when they’d had a little too many. Emotions bubbled on the surface with them, but the only emotion I was looking for was desire. I felt it, but did she?

  Paige nodded and cut her eyes to Lauren and Eva. “Yeah.”

  “And what could she possibly have to say about me to you?” I asked in a low voice—one that I knew drove women wild.

  Her lips turned up at the corners. “Probably something along the lines of how I need to cut myself off from my drinking, because I’m getting pretty comfortable with you tonight and might do something I’ll regret it in the morning.”

  I loved that she’d just said that. Thoughts of me and her and what we could do until morning flashed through my head. I licked my lips and eyed her. “Is that true?”

  “Is what true?”

  “That you’re getting pretty comfortable with me and might do something you’d regret in the morning.” I had to know. Chewing on my bottom lip, I waited too many heartbeats for her answer while I tried to dull the throbbing ache that stirred in my jeans.

  “I don’t know.” She licked her bottom lip and set her cup down. Her eyes locked with mine, and a flirty playfulness glimmered in them I’d never seen before. “I don’t think there’s anything I could ever do with you that I’d regret.”

  Holy shit. The realization that those words had truly come from her pretty little mouth sent a zap of electricity coursing through me like nothing I’d ever felt before. My groin area warmed and stiffened to a near rock hardness as I stared into her eyes. She sucked her bottom lip into the recesses of her mouth, and I found myself leaning in a bit more as I watched the movement. Every cell in my body buzzed with the desire to kiss her. Searching her eyes for any sense of hesitation or reluctance to what I was about to do, and not finding any, was the deciding factor. I swallowed hard, waiting a few more heartbeats for her to say something or lean back—breathe—but she didn’t. Slowly, I leaned forward, erasing the space between us inch by scorching inch. Just when I was almost there, Blaire came back to the table and the intensity that had been building between us died down until it was nothing as we pulled apart.

  I chuckled and licked my lips, unbelieving how close I’d come to finally doing what I’d wanted with her for so long. Blaire cleared her throat and flashed a smug smile at Paige, as though she’d known something like that would happen when she left.

  Paige sat back in her chair and finished off the remainder of her drink, her eyes flickering to mine here and there. A small smile twisted the corners of her lips. That was all I needed to know that she’d felt it too. There was no denying the chemistry between us. Not after that moment.

  I chugged the last bit of my drink. Then sat, waiting for the stiffness in my pants to die down enough that I could walk to order another drink without letting everyone know how excited I was by the beautiful brunette I’d nearly kissed seconds before.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  PAIGE

  I rolled my paintbrush against the wall with more force than the previous stroke. The gallon-sized can of paint was almost empty, and I wasn’t so sure I’d be able to make what was left last until the wall was finished. I took a step back and admired my work. It was the first time I’d ever painted a wall before, and I thought I’d done a decent job considering there were no drip marks. The room was almost finished. Craig and I had been at it for hours, but the place was finally coming together.

  I’d had another brunch with my parents the day before and had laid out the entire plan for the shop for them. Everything had been compiled into one professional-looking binder, for ease and to avoid me stumbling over my words. Visual aids were key. They’d both been proud of the portfolio and business strategy I’d managed to create without the help of a consultant. If only they knew that Cameron had really been my consultant when it came to the finer details of the shop—like the sixty/forty pay plan.

  Cameron.

  I dipped the roller I’d been using in the paint tray, and thought about the other night at Shooters. An image of him sitting across from me, nibbling at his bottom lip with his hair all gelled to spiky perfection and his tattoos glimmering in the cheap lighting, flittered through my mind. We’d nearly kissed. The frustration from the moment when Blaire walked back to the table slammed through me once more. The disappointment had occurred for two reasons. On one hand, I’d wanted the kiss to happen more than I’d ever wanted anything ever before. On the other hand, I was glad it hadn’t taken place, because the guilt I felt from wanting it was enough. I couldn’t imagine what I’d be feeling if it had actually happened.

  Warm
hands wrapped around me from behind, pulling me from my thoughts, and I giggled as the fingertips skimmed underneath the edge of my tank top.

  “What are you doing? Aren’t you supposed to painting the high stuff for me?” I leaned into Craig, and hoped I sounded normal. Inside, my heart was hammering as guilt crept up my throat. I shouldn’t be thinking about those things while in his presence. Better yet, I shouldn’t be thinking about Cameron like that at all. Ever. I was in a relationship with Craig, plain and simple.

  “It’s time for a break, I think,” he purred against my ear.

  Relaxing my tight grip on the roller handle, I folded into him a little more, while trying to be in the present and not at the bar three nights ago with Cameron. “Just what type of break do you have in mind?”

  He nibbled along my shoulder and splayed his fingers across my stomach underneath my tank top. “Lunch, I’m starved. Let me take you someplace to eat.”

  I pursed my lips. “And here I thought you were talking dirty to me.”

  His grip on me tightened, until he fastened himself to me from behind. “Well, I didn’t say dessert was out of the question.”

  I pushed out of his grasp, and set the roller I’d been using down on the drop cloth. Turning, I locked my arms around the back of his neck and stood on my tiptoes to peck a kiss across his lips. “So where are you taking me?”

  Craig flashed a smile and smacked my butt as he unhooked himself from me. He walked over and picked up his cotton T-shirt he’d tossed to the floor earlier, when we’d first begun painting. “Let’s go to The Point.”

  The Point was a little pub that served alcohol, sandwiches, and finger foods over on Main Street. I’d only eaten there a few times, but really enjoyed its BLT sandwich.

  “Sounds good to me.” I scooped up my purse and keys I’d set beside the front door. “Are we taking your car or mine?”

  “Aren’t you going to change first?”

  “Into what? We’re coming right back to finish up, aren’t we?”

  Craig shrugged. “Well yeah, but you don’t want to wear those cutoffs in public, do you?”

  I looked down. “What’s wrong with them?”

  “There’re short.”

  My eyebrows drew together. “So, who cares?”

  “I’d feel better if you changed into something a little less revealing, that’s all I’m saying.”

  Holding his stare, I tried to figure out if he was being serious. This seemed like such a nitpicky thing to worry about. They were cutoffs with paint smeared along the sides. I wasn’t trying to be sexy; I’d been working harder than I ever had in my entire life all morning. Wait, was he even thinking of it as too sexy, or was he embarrassed to be seen with me because I looked grungy?

  “I don’t have anything else to change into,” I said.

  “Then why don’t we just order delivery from someplace?” he suggested without giving me any insight into which way he’d been thinking.

  Beestings of hurt pierced at me. Was he for real? If I didn’t have something to change into, then he didn’t want to go out in public with me?

  “What’s so wrong with these shorts?” I chuckled, hoping to lighten the mood, but it only seemed to tighten the muscles around Craig’s jaw and fuel more tension into the situation.

  “Honestly, they’re kind of trashy-looking and I’d rather you not wear them out in public.”

  My heart dropped to my toes, and my stomach burned with a mixture of emotions. Two seconds ago, he’d been rubbing all over me, hinting at sex, and now he was telling me my shorts were trashy and he couldn’t be seen with me in public while I was wearing them. What. The. Hell?

  “I’m not hungry. You go ahead and grab yourself something from somewhere. I’ll stay and finish up this wall before I call it a day.” I set my purse and keys back by the door, and headed for the roller I’d been using.

  “Come on. Don’t be sensitive,” he huffed. “Let’s just order some delivery.”

  I picked up the roller and swiped it through the paint tray a few times. Thank goodness, Craig had taught me how to do this earlier, and Blaire had pumped me up enough to think I could hack it, because it gave me something to busy myself with so I wouldn’t break down and cry from how hurt and angry I felt.

  “I’m not hungry.”

  He stepped to where I stood and gripped my hips. “Look, I’m sorry if I upset you. I didn’t mean to.”

  “Well you did.” I attempted to push free from his grip and continue painting, but he only dug his fingertips into my hips deeper. “I mean, look at what you’re wearing. It’s not much better. We’ve been working all morning and there’s paint all over your tank top.”

  “At least I have a clean shirt to pull over my splattered tank, and my shorts aren’t so short my ass cheeks hang out the back,” he gritted out, obviously not caring for my clipped tone.

  The conversation was getting heated and I hated it. My face and chest grew hot from the confrontation. “You can’t even see my ass hanging out!”

  “When you bend over you can.”

  “I wouldn’t be bending over to eat, Craig. I’d be sitting!” My blood was now boiling. How had we gone from having such a good time painting to this so quickly?

  “Doesn’t fucking matter to me. I don’t like it, not out in public.” The sharpness to his tone made me pause in my painting and glance his way. “That’s for my eyes only. If you don’t have something to change into, then we’ll get something delivered. End of story.”

  Adrenaline spiked through my system. I didn’t appreciate being told what to do or being labeled like a piece of property, but his tone was scaring me. “Don’t get anything delivered. I’m not hungry. I just want to finish this up, and then leave.” The words came out soft, and without a single hint of the annoyance and panic I felt flitting though my system.

  Craig opened his mouth to speak, but shut it the second a silver car with loud rock music blaring from its stereo pulled up in front of the shop. The engine cut off and Cameron stepped out. He closed his door and went to the backseat to fumble with something.

  “What’s he doing here?” Craig seethed. His eyes shifted from Cameron to me. They were hard-set and dark.

  All the air left my lungs in the time it took for my heart to beat one erratic sequence. “I have no clue.”

  Craig’s lips pressed into a fine line, and I got the distinct impression he didn’t believe me. My insides twisted and my mind flew into panic mode. Why Craig brought these insane feelings to the surface of my mind, I had no clue. All I knew was that the tension, which had been building between us, was about to get thicker now that Cameron was here. And that it would hit a whole new high if Cameron happened to mention anything about Thursday night.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  CAMERON

  I wrestled with the surprise for Paige in my backseat for what felt like forever before I was finally able to free it and carry it inside. This was the reason I needed to get a truck, for moments when I wanted to haul something large. Casting a quick glance back at my silver beauty as I started over the curb, I dismissed the idea. I could never give up that car.

  Hoisting the large object, wrapped in paper, higher over my shoulder, I continued toward the entrance to Paige’s shop. Craig stepped into view, and I realized I hadn’t even searched for his vehicle in the parking lot when I’d pulled in. I’d only looked to see if Paige’s black car had been there. Fuck.

  “What’s this?” Craig stepped aside and nodded to what I held. I noticed the bruises I’d given him last time we’d seen each other had already faded.

  “Just a little something I thought Paige could use.” Glancing around, I spotted her near the back wall.

  “What is it?” She set the roller she’d been holding down, and walked toward me. She was dressed in a simple purple tank top and a pair of cutoff shorts. Her hair was pulled up into a high ponytail and even the smudges of turquoise paint across her arms were sexy.

  “You’ll fi
nd out when you open it.” I grinned.

  “Why did you get me something?” Her eyes shifted to Craig as she stepped closer and the light in them dimmed, as though she were trying to prove a point—that she had no idea I would be coming by or what my gift to her could possibly be.

  Asshole. I hated that he was so easily able to suck the excitement right out of her eyes like that.

  “I know I didn’t, but I wanted to. It’s something for the shop.” I shifted it around in my grasp. “This wall dry enough for me to prop this thing up against it?”

  Paige nodded, and I moved to set the heavy thing against the wall. She stepped closer and ripped at the paper covering it. Once she’d gotten a large chunk off, and what was inside became visible, her eyes bugged out of her head and an infectious smile spread across her face. One not even dickwad could dim.

  “Oh my God! You had a sign made for the shop?” She shredded the rest of the paper off and tossed it to the side.

  “Do you like it?” I took a step closer, so I could point out things to her in the sign. “I had him paint a set of bifold doors so it looked like a closet for you. It’s made out of driftwood too, so it should go with your vintage theme well.”

  I’d said him, but in reality, I’d been the one to paint it. I had my cabinet guy find the perfect piece of driftwood for me. I’d painted it and then given it back to him so he could burn the shop name onto it and whittle at the edges a little more.

  “Like it? I love it!” she squealed. Seeing her this happy because of something I’d done was amazing—addicting even—and I found myself wondering what I could do next that would get a similar reaction from her. “Look, you can see all the clothes hanging on hangers! And the way the name is burned in…I’m in love!”

  I chuckled. “I’m glad you’re happy with it.”

  Paige jumped up and wrapped her arms around my neck. Her scent wafted to my nose and tingles exploded across my skin from her sudden touch. Damn this girl was getting to me, like skin freaking deep.