Everything for Her

by Alexa Riley

  “Just dinner, Mallory. Please.”

  Releasing a breath, I nod. If I want answers, I need to hear him out. I’ve never wanted anything as much as I want him, and that feeling isn’t going away. He gave me the space I asked for, in his own way, and nothing has changed. I want the truth, and in order to get that we need to talk.

  “All right, dinner. Saturday night. You can pick me up at my apartment at six.”

  He looks like he wants to say more. I know he probably wants to push for tonight, but I need to have the upper hand while I can. If I give in to him, I’ll never have a say over anything again, so I need to make damn sure that when I do it, I’m ready for that again.

  His fists clench even tighter at his sides and his jaw twitches, but he nods. “Okay. Tomorrow night at six.”

  “Thank you,” I say, tension leaving my body. It’s as if now that the plan has been set and he didn’t fight me on it, I can relax.

  His hands unclench, and he acts as if he’s going to reach for me, but then lets them drop. The air is charged between us, and anything could set us off. It’s like a gas leak waiting on a match to strike before the whole thing explodes.

  So instead of giving in to the flame, I take a step back and then another, until my ass hits the large door behind me. I turn to pull it open forgetting about it being locked and feel Oz’s body press against mine, his smell filling my lungs, wrapping around me like I’ve been thinking about for days. I didn’t even know you could miss a smell.

  He places a kiss on my neck softly and I tilt my head, giving in to what we both want. Before I can even take another breath he’s turning me, my back hitting the door once again.

  “I’ll give you until Saturday but you’ll give me something to hold me over.” His mouth takes mine before I can even ask what he wants. Taking what he wants. Demanding my lips to open to his and they do. I’m starting to think he owns my body more than I actually do.

  I moan into his mouth and he eats my passion like he can’t get enough of it. Before finally pulling away, leaving us both breathless. I’m almost in a daze from everything I felt from one kiss.

  “Go now, or I’ll never let you leave this room.”

  Oz reaches into his pocket, and I hear the clicks of the locks disengaging. He’s letting me leave, and for some reason, it makes my heart ache.

  “Tomorrow,” he says, and for a second it sounds like a threat. But even as I think it, my excitement grows.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Mallory

  When I get back to my desk, I see a medium-sized plain white envelope sitting on it, and I immediately think it’s from Oz.

  “Paige gave that to me to give to you,” Skyler says, looking down at the package with clear interest. “Okay, so maybe she jumped me in the bathroom and forced it on me.”

  I laugh, picturing Paige waiting in the bathroom for the perfect moment. I pick up the package and rip it open. A cheap-looking phone slides out. One text message is visible on the screen.

  Red Bull Whore: Operation Ruby Slippers is a go, Dorothy.

  I can’t help but laugh.

  “She got you a phone?” Skyler eyes me because it’s clear it’s one of those cheap phones you get inside a gas station or something.

  Leaning forward, I whisper, “We’re going out tonight.”

  She probably thinks I’m being crazy. “Simon’s Wine Bar. Up East Street, four blocks.” I nod, probably in the wrong direction. I still get a little turned around being so new to New York.

  “Everyone else is going to Marie’s Yacht Club like always,” she says.

  I shake my head.

  “I don’t want to go where everyone is going,” I admit, knowing Oz would find us in point two seconds. We’ll at least give him a good chase by not following the crowd.

  “Ah. Dodging the boss, I see.” She leans in a little farther and whispers, “I’m in.”

  I smile back at her. I don’t know why this is so fun. Maybe because I feel like I’m sneaking out, which I never did because I never had anyone who would have cared if I did. The thought that I do now makes my stomach flutter, but I ignore it.

  I text Paige back.

  Dorothy: I really think your name should be Peggy Carter. Just sayin’.

  I laugh when I see she actually programmed my name as Dorothy and I even have a little picture. If I’m going to be Dorothy, she should have to be Peggy. This math adds up to me. After all, we are trying to skip out on Captain.

  Red Bull Whore: Not happening.

  Dorothy: Too late. I already changed your name in the phone.

  I send a pic I find on Google real quick of Captain America kissing Peggy Carter.

  Peggy Carter: Grrr... Whatever. Peggy doesn’t even end up with Captain America! She, like, all dies and shit. Don’t put that dead voodoo on me!

  Dorothy: Well, there is a chance we’ll die and shit if we get caught tonight.

  Peggy Carter: I think you mean WHEN. They might not find us until we come back home, but they will know we went MIA for a while.

  Dorothy: Does it make me terrible that I kind of can’t wait for Oz to flip his shit?

  Part of me is doing this because I want to show him I can do whatever I want, whether he likes it or not. He can’t always have eyes on me. Call it an act of rebellion, but I want to assert myself.

  Peggy Carter: No. Leave your normal cell in your desk.

  I pull my cell phone out and put it in my desk before taking my seat.

  “I’ll meet you there if my girl feels up to going out,” Skyler says before going back to her chair. I lose myself in work for a few hours until my secret phone dings again.

  I pick it up and see a pic of Captain, studying a computer screen. He doesn’t look like he normally does in a suit. This time it looks like he just got done working out. Jesus, no wonder Paige has a crush on him. He has this whole I’ll-snap-a-man-in-half look mixed with I-always-call-women-ma’am-and-open-doors-for-them. It’s oddly appealing.

  Peggy Carter: Look at him. He doesn’t even know in a few short hours he’s going to want to murder me. *evil laughs*

  I giggle, and then the laughter takes over.

  Dorothy: WHY IS THIS SO FUNNY?!

  I can’t stop laughing. I have no idea why this secret operation thing keeps making me laugh. We’ve been planning on doing something Friday night for the past few days and it’s slowly morphed into this whole big thing.

  Peggy Carter: Because they’re always two steps ahead of us and it makes me want to throat punch them.

  Dorothy: Time check, PC.

  Peggy Carter: 5:05 sharp. I have a mission planned for Captain. Operation GOOSE CHASE.

  Dorothy: I don’t even want to know what Operation GOOSE CHASE is.

  Peggy Carter: ...

  Dorothy: Okay, I totally want to know.

  Peggy Carter: I may have asked the door guy in our building to feed our cat at 4:55 sharp.

  Dorothy: We don’t have a cat.

  Peggy Carter: I may have also given him the wrong security code.

  “Oh, God,” I whisper, and then laugh to myself. Putting the phone back down, I think about the alarm going off and Captain—and possibly Oz—panicking, thinking someone broke in while we are at work. At least they’ll know we aren’t there, that someone should check it out.

  I work for the last few hours until it’s time to head out. Skyler asks if I want to walk out with her, but I shake my head and tell her I’ll hopefully see her at the wine bar after she’s finished having dinner with her girlfriend.

  Grabbing my stuff, I make sure I leave my cell phone and grab the one Paige got for me. I’m a little disappointed that I didn’t hear from Oz after meeting in his office and agreeing to a date. But I could tell he was holding himself back. I could s
ee it with every strain in his body that he hadn’t wanted to let me out of his office. That he wanted to finish what we started, and I know I would have let him. I can still feel the slight soreness on my lips from his demanding kiss.

  I loved that he was trying to keep it together, but another part of me, a dark part, wanted him to snap. How can I get so mad at him for what he’s doing, then get so turned on by it? It’s like my brain, heart and vagina can’t agree on one thing.

  I hit the elevator button right at five o’clock. It only takes a minute to hit my floor, but stops several times on the way down to the lobby. I finally get to the lobby floor at five-oh-five, and I slip out, heading for the front door and moving with the crowd. I only make it a few short feet outside the building and I’m being pulled by the arm into a small nook.

  “I think we did it,” Paige says, her whole face lighting up.

  “Are you sure?” I whisper, leaning out to look to see if anyone is following us.

  “I think so. Captain took off before you got off the elevator. He told me to keep my ass planted and he was calling Miles as he was leaving,” she whispers back. I look her up and down and laugh. She has on big sunglasses and a trench coat.

  “What are you wearing? Why am I whispering? Why didn’t I get something like this to wear?” I keep whispering. I can’t seem to stop myself.

  “I don’t know,” she mouths back and we both burst out laughing. Tears leak out the corner of my eyes. I can’t remember the last time I laughed like this. It feels good. Normal. Us.

  “Let’s go.” I grab her hand, heading to Simon’s, but she pulls at my hand and walks the other way. I’d make a terrible spy. My sense of direction is the worst.

  “Where did you even get that thing?” I ask her, looking over at her trench coat. It’s super cute and I would have noticed it before now. It looks a little big on her. In fact, it would fit me nicely.

  “Lunch. I hate it. You can have it. I wanted to hide this.” She turns, walking backward, and flips open the coat. People jump out of her way so she doesn’t knock into them. Under the coat she’s wearing tight black pants, knee-high black boots and a tight black tank. She looks hot. Hotter than she normally dresses.

  “What’s happening here?” I ask her, and she smiles before turning and walking forward with me.

  She shrugs. “Maybe I wanted to look nice. Or maybe I always wanted to do that flip-your-coat-open thing, like in the movies.” She reaches up, pulling the tie from her hair, letting the glossy waves fall to her shoulders and down her back. I do the same, unclipping my hair, running my fingers through it.

  “You thinking about dating or something? When we were at school, you always said you’d worry about that later. It’s kind of later.” Maybe that’s what’s up with this slight style change. Paige never plays up her sexy. She doesn’t have to. Men always take notice of her.

  She shrugs again. “I don’t know.” She shakes her head as if telling herself no. “I should be focused on other things, but it would be a lie if I didn’t find it intriguing the way Miles looks at you sometimes.”

  We step into the wine bar together, bypassing the hostess and grabbing two chairs at the bar.

  “It’s a little intoxicating. To have someone obsessed with you. Like you’re their everything. I’ve never had that. Not in foster care. I’d be lying, too, if I said something about it isn’t sucking me into him.”

  “Drinks?” the older bartender asks, cutting into our conversation.

  “I’ll have a glass of rosé, please.” I give him my card to get a tab going.

  “Same,” Paige adds, and orders five small plates for us to eat while we sit and talk. I don’t know how long we’re here, but the bar slowly fills and someone in the back plays a piano. Some people sing along and request songs.

  “Think they’re freaking out yet?” I ask Paige.

  She looks down at her watch. “Oh, I’m sure. They’ll live. I’m with you, so they can cool it. Well, they might be pissed if they knew this is my fourth glass.” She finishes off her glass and orders another one.

  I’ve only had two, enjoying the warmth of the wine. Wine always goes straight to my head, so I try to keep it light. The fact that I could be pregnant sits quietly in the back of my mind.

  Paige doesn’t normally drink much, and it makes me smile that she’s letting loose a little tonight.

  More people trickle in and it’s not long before I can barely move without bumping into someone. Unlike our other nights out, Paige doesn’t shut down men who talk to us. She talks back and even jokes a little. It’s probably the wine.

  “I didn’t know you came here,” someone whispers in my ear, and I turn slightly in my bar stool to see Eric. “I was hoping to see you at Marie’s Yacht Club, but you weren’t there tonight.”

  “Wanted to try something different,” I say, turning a little more so I can look at him. It’s hard to hear in the once-quiet bar with all the people and the piano playing.

  His hand comes to my hip, and I’m taken aback by the intimate gesture. I’m not sure if it’s because people are pushed in so close and he’s making room, or if he does it on purpose to touch me. I glance over at Paige, who’s talking to a well-dressed man in a suit. She looks over at me as if sensing my eyes on her.

  “Want to dance?” Eric asks, but his other hand grabs my other hip, pulling me off the chair before I can respond.

  “I’m not sure we should.” I don’t want to cause a scene with the crowd around us, but his grip on my hand is tight. I want to shout the word no but I’m on the dance floor before I have a chance.

  He pulls me closer, but my body freezes up when, out of the corner of my eye, I spot two sapphires locked on me.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Mallory

  * * *

  Oz stalks over to us, and I’m frozen in place. I don’t even register Eric leaning down and putting his lips on my neck until it’s already happened. I pull back from Eric’s grip instantly, sick from his unwelcome advances.

  He gives me a greasy smile and holds me tighter. His Abercrombie good looks contrast with the creepy feeling he’s giving me. I’m about to tell him exactly how to fuck off when a fist comes flying across his face.

  For a half a second I think, here we go again, until I see Paige standing over him and shaking out her hand.

  “You keep your hands off of her, you spoiled piece of shit.”

  Eric lies on the floor, unmoving. She knocked him out cold.

  I’m in shock, unable to move. After a heartbeat Paige turns to me and looks me up and down.

  “Are you okay, Mal?”

  Unable to find my tongue, I nod. A crowd has formed around us, and some guys have come over to check on Eric. As I’m about to speak, Oz breaks through the crowd and comes to me.

  I’m in his arms for a second before he’s looking over at Paige. “You okay?”

  She shrugs and gives me a half smile.

  I hear a commotion behind her and look around Oz to see Eric getting hauled off the floor as Captain yells at Eric’s friends to get him the fuck out of here.

  When did he show up?

  Oz throws some bills on the bar behind me and turns to give Paige a stare. He doesn’t say anything before taking my hand and pulling me from the place.

  Everything happens so fast. One second I was laughing with Paige and the next I’m being dragged away from all the fun, the night ruined by some sleazy guy trying to put his hands on me. Even if Oz hadn’t shown up, Paige knocking Eric out cold might have spoiled our good vibe.

  The summer heat hits me as we exit the building, but it’s quickly replaced by the cool air in the back of Oz’s limo. He shuts the door and walks around, climbing in on the other side, and never once have I given him permission to do this.

  His scent assaults me
, and suddenly the two small glasses of wine I had are making me dizzy with lust. Or at least that’s what I’m telling myself. He gets in, and the sight of him so close to me makes me weak. God, I hate that I’m not strong enough to tell him no, because if he touches me, I’ll dissolve. Everything I’ve said about waiting and talking and wanting to know the truth will go right out the window. And he knows it.

  “Oz.” I stop. I don’t know what I’m going to say. Apologize for sneaking away from him? Beg him to hold me? Beg him not to?

  He shakes his head and I stop the words. I know they’re useless when it comes to him. He crooks his finger at me to come to his lap, and like the slave I am, I go.

  I crawl onto him, sitting with my legs together and my ass pressed against his erection.

  “Did you drink tonight?” he asks, looking down at my mouth.

  I nod, knowing his meaning. We’ve had sex. Unprotected sex. And this could very well mean I’m carrying a baby. I know where his train of thought is going, so I try to put him at ease.

  “Two small glasses.”

  He nods, and then runs his hand down my cheek. “No more. Not until we know for sure.”

  His words are whispered in the dark, and if I close my eyes, I can almost pretend I don’t hear them. But I do, and I know that I’ll give him what he wants. Like I always do. I’ve been fighting a losing battle. As much as I pretend to hate how overbearing he can be, a part of me loves it, too. My rational brain tells me all these things aren’t okay, but deep down I know I’m only lying to myself. When I think of all the things he’s done for me, and how he’d do anything and everything to have me, I love it.