The Big O Series

by M. S. Parker

  I hadn't killed that, at least.

  If nothing else, the need was still there.

  I held off the climax, almost afraid of what would happen once this ended, using all the skill I'd learned over the years. Fighting my body's instincts and resisting hers, until both of us were shaking, sweating, all but dying for the release.

  When it did end, I braced myself for the retreat, for her to jerk away and leave me there on the couch.

  But she curled into me, sighed softly...and fell asleep.

  Nineteen

  Michelle

  Heat scorched my cheeks as I wrote the article, but I kept on writing.

  The whole idea behind the series was how to keep the heat in a relationship. What Jake had done to me yesterday hadn't brought heat – it had brought an inferno.

  Of course, everything he did brought an inferno.

  It was a miracle he hadn't burned me up from the inside out.

  My hands hesitated, then tripped on the keyboard as memory rushed in. Pulling them away from the keyboard, I reached up and closed my right hand around my left wrist, echoing what he'd done. It had frozen me for a second. Not long, but long enough, because he'd noticed.

  I'd just...panicked, maybe?

  I couldn't completely shut those sensory memories off, and for one brief moment, I'd felt somebody else's hand grasping my wrist. I'd felt another hand at my throat and an ugly voice had grunted my name before issuing a threat – nobody will believe you, so keep your mouth shut.

  Shaking now, as the memories edged closer, I saved the document and got up, moving over to the window. It was a cold, windy Thursday, the sunlight harsh, oddly bright as it shone down from a sky that was starting to cloud up in the north. Those dark clouds promised a whole hell of a lot of something and the weather guys had been talking snow for a few days. They might be on to something.

  Let it snow, then. As long as it didn't keep me from seeing Jake tomorrow.

  I needed to see him now, with the echoes of these memories prowling closer.

  Nobody will believe you...

  It had gone on for months. Parker's hands on me, his mouth...he'd gone from 'accidentally' bumping into me or having his hand graze my breast, to grabbing me...then groping. The first time he raped me, even though I'd been trying to avoid him for months, had come as such a shock. Some part of me had known he wanted to do it, and I'd tried desperately to avoid him, but he'd realized just what I was doing and went out of his way to find chances to be alone with me.

  That was how it happened.

  My parents had gone out on a date for their anniversary that first night, and I was home alone. Parker shouldn't have been there, but he claimed he'd left something at the house, then upon realizing I was alone, he felt like he should stay and keep me company.

  I'd tried going upstairs and locking myself in my room, but he'd followed me. When I tried to run, he tackled me, and it happened right on the front steps of my home.

  For months, I couldn't walk down them without feeling sick.

  After I finally told my parents, they renovated the whole damn house and the staircase had been gutted and replaced entirely.

  Nobody will believe you.

  He'd been wrong.

  "My parents believed me," I said softly.

  And he'd gotten careless. The last time, he'd grabbed me outside, and I'd screamed. A neighbor kid had heard and come to investigate, then he'd ran and gotten his dad. While his father hauled Parker off of me, the teenager had called the police.

  The police, thanks to witness reports, had no choice but to believe me. He hadn't done much time in jail, but he'd done time.

  And Jake had believed me.

  "You didn't win, you miserable son of a bitch," I whispered to the void, staring outside.

  There was no answer, but the ache in my chest eased. Turning back to the desk, I debated. Taking a couple of breaths, I forced myself to go sit down and get back to work.

  The bastard hadn't won, and I was tired of acting like he had.

  "Afternoon delights, hmm?"

  Aunt Blair read the article on her iPad, her brows arching up ever so slightly from time to time.

  My face was on fire.

  I could feel it.

  I didn't know why I hadn't just emailed it to her instead of coming down here to her office to visit. It wasn't like I hadn't ever been here. I came in once or twice a year anyway, but never just to see what she thought of an assignment.

  I was too...nervous for that sort of thing.

  Or at least I was. Normally.

  Today, though, I had to get out of the house. After the little trip down nightmare lane, then thinking about the upcoming date with Jake after how awkward I'd made things, staying inside my apartment had just been too much.

  I hadn't exactly expected Jake's little trip over to my place to inspire an article, but once I made myself sit back down and write, I'd fallen into the zone and finished in a frenzy.

  Then I'd had to take a cold shower, and after that, I'd locked myself in my room and cried for twenty minutes. The emotional roller coaster, more than anything else, had driven me out of my loft.

  "What are you thinking about, sweetheart?"

  The sound of Aunt Blair's voice jerked me out of my reverie, and I whipped my head around, staring at her.

  "What?" I asked blankly.

  "You looked so distant," she said, waving a hand at me. "I just told you the article was fabulous, and you didn't even hear me. You look like you're on another planet entirely. What are you thinking about? This mysterious man of yours? Your next article?"

  "Ah..." I had no idea how she'd guessed about a man. "Um...the next article, of course."

  It was a lie.

  I had no idea what I might write about next. Apparently, she wanted more, but since she mentioned it, that gave me a distraction and a way to get her to focus on something other than a man – which I needed because I didn't want her thinking about Jake or anything like that.

  Not that she knew it was Jake, but if she asked too many questions, I might blab and–

  Distract her! the voice of reason screamed.

  "So, I assume you want more articles?" I blurted out, my voice too high and too fast. I knew I hadn't successfully distracted her. The narrow-eyed look she gave me told me that, in spades.

  But she gave a slight shrug, apparently deciding to let it go before answering me. "Yes, we definitely want more, sweetheart. What else do you plan to write out?"

  "Ah...well..." Hmmm. How in the hell did I answer that? "I've got ideas, but I'm a little superstitious about discussing them until I've hammered out the details," I lied glibly.

  That, at least, she seemed to believe.

  "A winter storm warning is in effect..." the voice of the weatherman droned on as my phone chimed, announcing the delivery of a text.

  I read it in nervous anticipation, because for the past twenty minutes or so, Jake and I had been teasing each other back and forth – something so new and novel that just thinking about it made me giddy.

  So...you never did answer me. What are you wearing?

  The texting had given me an idea, and I thought maybe I'd try my hand at an article about the titillation that could come via naughty texts. Not that I planned on writing an entire article about sexting, because after having had the real thing with Jake, no sexts would count, but there was something to be said for anticipation.

  Tapping out my reply, I resisted the urge to roll my eyes at my decidedly un-sexy ensemble.

  Pajamas and a pair of slippers. It's COLD, Jake. Too cold for sexy.

  A thought I'd just had was bubbling in the back of my mind, trying to turn into an idea, and it distracted me enough that several minutes passed before I realized he'd replied almost immediately. Actually, several replies. One right after the other.

  It's never too cold for sexy.

  Not when it's you.

  You heat up the world.

  My face warmed, and I dismi
ssed the immediate thought that he probably flirted with all women like this. If he did, I didn't want to know. If he didn't, well...awesome.

  His next reply came up before I could figure out how to respond.

  Are we still on for tomorrow?

  The weatherman's droning voice had me glancing at the TV.

  I answered back.

  As long as I don't end up snowed in before morning. The way these guys are talking, we're having another Snowmaggedeon or something. You'd think it never snowed in New York.

  He sent me back a laughing emoji, and my heart flipped a little in my chest. One thing was for certain...whether Jake felt it or not, I was getting in deep. It wasn't sex anymore. Or at least, it wasn't just sex.

  Not for me.

  Later that night, as I sat in my room, I powered up my laptop and started a new document. There were actually two ideas in my head, but only one would work for an article.

  At least right now.

  I might write the other one, way, way, way down the road, but not anytime soon.

  For now though...

  I tapped out the title.

  There's Something To Be Said About Anticipation.

  Humming under my breath, I wrote the first few lines, then sketched in the rest of the details, giving it enough of an outline that Aunt Blair could get an idea.

  Then I sent it off to her.

  That done, I turned out the light.

  I had something to anticipate myself. Maybe I should take notes.

  Jake and I had another date tomorrow, snow be damned.

  Twenty

  Jake

  Sometimes the job came with perks.

  Right now, I had a front row seat, opening night, to what was predicted to be one of the best plays to hit Broadway for years to come.

  Whether or not it would was yet to be seen, but so far, I was impressed.

  My client for the night was the female lead, and I was more arm candy than anything else, but it happened that way sometimes. Personally, I didn't mind at all because every time I thought about upcoming jobs that included things like the afternoon delight I'd teased Michelle about, then the delights we'd both shared, I had what could mildly be described as misgivings.

  Another way to describe those feelings was...hell, I didn't even know.

  Lost in a brood, I missed one of the lines on stage that sent the audience into a gale of laughter, and I forced my attention back to the cast, watching as my client came strutting out wearing little more than an old-fashioned teddy and stockings. She held a martini glass in one hand, and her pale blonde hair was piled on top of her hair and artfully disheveled.

  She was beautiful and elegant, sleek and sophisticated, the kind of woman I could have only dreamed of being with a decade ago – the kind of woman it hadn't even occurred to me to dream about, if I was being honest.

  Yet the sight of her, even dressed in a way that set that ripe, sexy form off, didn't do much more than cause a low-level bump of male appreciation. It wasn't even lust. I'd been with her, more than once, and she was the kind of lover I enjoyed the most – one who enjoyed giving as well as receiving.

  But I had no desire to send a quick and dirty message about how maybe she should go commando under her gown after the show – which I'd done before. It was part of the job.

  I had no desire to hunt down any place in the theater where the two of us might have a chance at five minutes alone. Even her dressing room was a risk on opening night, and she preferred not to try it there anyway.

  All I wanted to do was finish up the job as quick as I could and leave. If I got out of there before midnight, I might be able to catch Michelle.

  And that was the last thing that should be on my mind as one of the most desired women in New York City strolled across the stage and laid a hand on the chest of a supporting actor and purred, "You stand there looking at me like you can't think of anything you want more."

  Judging by the look in his eyes, it wasn't all an act.

  I wondered if I could talk him into making a move on her tonight...getting me off easy.

  "It's too bad I don't have time for...more."

  "Hmmm, my love, you have no idea." Leaning in, I pressed a kiss to my date's neck, although my brain was a million miles away and I had no desire at all for...more.

  The leading lady was one Eden Faulkner, one of the elite actresses from Broadway, and under most circumstances, I would have been content for anything and everything she had in mind.

  The thought of passing her off to the supporting actor who'd seemed so intrigued by her had seemed more and more promising right up until she introduced us, and he took in my measure, then excused himself, claiming he had a prior engagement.

  "He's got a thing for you," I'd pointed out.

  "Oh, I know. And he's adorable...I'm considering it."

  If only he'd waited around a little longer.

  Circumstances had changed over the past few weeks – circumstances being Michelle – and if Eden hadn't requested my services well over a month ago, I wouldn't be here.

  Hell, if Eden and I hadn't had an established arrangement for nearly a year, I wouldn't be here. I was already trying to figure out if I'd continue the arrangement or not when she slid a hand down my spine, her hand resting just above my ass.

  "You're so clever at finding...moments, Jake. Do you think you could find us one? This opening night was a bitch, and I'm all in knots," Eden said, leaning in to murmur in my ear.

  I glanced over at her, dread creeping in. I'd been worried about this. She had a thing for sex in risqué places. The last time, we'd almost gotten caught, and I'd warned her then that we couldn't have that happen again. I had already prepared an out too.

  More, I'd prepared that out with some vague thought in mind that I wasn't interested in sleeping with her. Not when I was doing this...whatever I was doing with Michelle.

  "Pet, there are more people here right now than there were at the last opening, and we almost got caught then. Remember what I told you?"

  She laughed, a loud, lusty sound that echoed around us. "I was hoping you'd forget. Aw, well. It's your beautiful face I want with me more than anything else right now."

  "That's because you're considering an interlude with that actor. What was his name again?"

  A slow smile curled her lips. "René. His name is René. And...perhaps you're right."

  A fan came scurrying up, one of the few who'd been granted all-access passes, and I faded quietly into the background as both Eden and I preferred while she spoke and signed an autograph book.

  "Hello, Jake."

  At the sound of my name, spoken in a familiar voice, I looked up.

  "Whitley."

  Her lips curved in a smile as she sipped her wine, staring out over the mass of bodies. "You sound so surprised."

  I was. A bit.

  But I covered and accepted the hand she offered, bending over to kiss the back of it instead of shaking. "Of course not. I recall you telling me you enjoyed the theatre. I assume you're here with your husband?"

  Her lids flickered, mouth tightening.

  Knowing what I knew about the son-of-a-bitch, I understood why she briefly looked like she wanted to be ill, but the expression faded quickly. She pasted a bright smile on her face. "Oh, yes."

  That meant I needed to get the hell out of here. "Where is he? I don't believe I've had the pleasure."

  She waved a distracted hand off to the left. With her face averted, I had a chance to study her profile a bit more closely and could tell her eyes were slightly swollen, a detail she'd hidden almost perfectly with the clever use of makeup. "Oh, he's out there...somewhere. Mingling, I have no doubt. He adores these things. Besides, one of the show's leads is a...friend," she said with a long sigh.

  I inclined my head. Then, with a polite nod, I said, "I should go. I wouldn't want my date thinking I'm being inattentive."

  She nodded, and I released her hand. But I didn't go to Eden. I faded into the backgro
und, watching. Searching.

  He was there.

  The son of a bitch.

  He was there.

  Eden found me less than ten minutes later, standing in the shadows where I often retreated when I wasn't at her side. She seemed to understand my preference for them. As much as she adored the spotlight, I had a distinct dislike for it. Perhaps that was why we fit together as well as we did.

  "I get the feeling your mind is anywhere but here tonight, Jake," she said on a sigh, hooking her arm through mine. "Don't take that wrong. I'm a bit distracted myself. I'm actually thinking about calling René. But while I'm often distracted at these parties, you rarely let yourself do the same. At least, I've never known you to do so."

  "Have I been so obvious?" I asked, too tired to play games. The man I'd been watching for so long – years – stood less than fifteen feet from me, completely unaware. Splitting my focus could cost me too much.

  That wasn't about to happen, not when I'd lost so much – given up too much.

  "Hmmm, quite. Tell me, is there a reason you're so interested in the senator?"

  I tensed before I could stop myself. "Again, I'm being obvious."

  "Not to the typical layperson." She sipped her martini and waved a hand. "Not even to the non-typical layperson and probably not most people in the room. It's entirely likely, plausible even, that I'm the only one who has noticed you occasionally glancing his way, and how you're very carefully staying at his back where he can't see you." She slid me a curious look. "I notice only because I'm a student of human behavior...and your behavior is a bit odd for you."

  I clicked my tongue. "And people wonder how you can become a thousand different characters so easily." Turning my attention fully on her, I said softly, "My concern with him is my own, though, Eden. I don't wish to discuss it. I can trust you with that, can't I?"

  "Of course." She dipped her head. "I've trusted you with a hundred dirty, torrid secrets. Let me trust you with another...stay out of his way, Jake. I've heard terrible things about him." Then she leaned in and kissed my cheek. "Why don't you go...find whatever else had you so distracted even before he showed up."