by M. K. Hale
“Distinctive, unique, individualistic, remarkable, quirky—”
“Stop listing synonyms. You’re not a thesaurus.”
“Tell me what I am.” He rolled on top of me, hovering his head over mine. The lower half of his body brushed and pressed into mine. “Tell me how much you like me.” This guy and his ego.
“No.” I tapped his nose before running my hands down his chest and stopping at the waistband of his jeans. “I think…” My fingers undid his button and slid the zipper down. “I’ll show you.” Slipping my hand into his pants, I gripped him through his boxers and he moaned.
His eyelids fluttered shut. “Fuck.”
“I heard you had a hard day.” He was still on top of me, so I rose and landed a hot kiss on his lips, before sinking back down and focusing on the growing bulge in his boxers. I squeezed, and he let out a loud, strangled noise of pleasure. “Maybe I could do something to soothe you, ease you. Maybe a kind of release.”
“Allie,” Nate said, sounding desperate as he thrust hard into my hand.
A knock at the door had both of us falling back and groaning with agitation.
Who was interrupting us now? God himself?
My body was on the verge of crying.
“I swear to God…” Nate pulled up his pants and buttoned them back as he walked to the door. I followed close behind him, ready to tell Jennifer to leave and never come back.
Instead, there were two men in suits.
One stepped forward and reached out a hand to Nate. “We’re with the FBI. We have some questions regarding your father’s disappearance.”
Chapter 26
Allie:
* * *
“We’re with the FBI. We have some questions regarding your father’s disappearance.”
Any sexual tension disappeared after hearing that. Well, not all of it. But most. Nate’s dad had disappeared? Where? Did he know? His dumbfounded expression told me the answer was no.
“Excuse me?”
“For the past few weeks, we have been investigating your father for fraud and embezzlement. We found out today that he has escaped the country.”
Nate stood, dumbfounded. “I just talked to him on the phone like an hour ago.”
“Can we see your phone?” The taller, paler agent asked Nate, and he handed it to him. The agent called the number Nate had and frowned. “The number has already been disconnected. Do you have any idea where your father could be, son?” the agent questioned him. With one glance at Nate’s face, I could see he wanted to run and hide.
The younger, shorter agent stood there, watching me. I shuffled to the side, and the younger agent continued staring at me with those dark, prodding eyes. I did not like it.
“He transferred ten thousand dollars out of my account this morning,” Nate growled the information out at them. I put a hand on his back in an attempt to comfort him. His father had stolen money from him for real? Ten thousand dollars? How had Nate gotten that money to begin with? Had he started working when he was a kid? The image of a baby Nate in a suit became much less cute in my mind. “He stole money from me before, but I was able to get it back. This came from an old joint account with his name still on it.”
“If he had that much in cash, he could have gone anywhere.” The taller agent turned to the other one, the one who still stared at me. “How did he get access? I thought we froze all of his accounts.”
“It was mine,” Nate repeated. “My account.”
“Are there any countries you know your father is fond of? Maybe somewhere he once traveled to and enjoyed well enough—”
“I have no idea where my father could be. I’ll answer any questions you have, but I can assure you, there will be no helpful information for me to give you.”
The tall agent sighed, and the younger one frowned.
“We’ll contact you with any more questions we may have.” They nodded at each other with understanding.
The younger, shorter agent tilted his head, still staring at me. “Why do you look so familiar to me?” he asked.
“I guess I have one of those faces.” I laughed it off. “I don’t know anyone in the FBI.”
The agent would not let it go. “I’m new to the FBI, I was a cop before that.”
I shrugged. What did he want me to say? I did not know him.
“Are you from Meadowville?” I froze at the name of my hometown. He noticed my cringe and nodded, raising his finger at me. “Yeah, I do know you. You’re Dally Allie.”
“What did you just call her?” Nate was still angry about his father, so his defensive and annoyed voice crackled, chilling the room to ice.
“Dally Allie,” the agent said again, though in a less confident voice as he took in Nate’s evident attitude. “She had Logan Garth go to trial after she made up some story about him hitting her at prom—”
“What’s wrong with you?” Nate was now steaming. I kind of loved how protecting me was more important to him than finding out his father had left the country.
“N-Nothing.” The agent hastily tried to explain himself. “At the station, we used to call her Dally Allie, because she wasted our time, and it rhymed and such. That’s all. Just fun—”
“Wasted your time?”
“You don’t know Logan Garth. He’s the mayor’s son. He would never—”
“I do know him, and he put my girlfriend in a fucking coma and never went to jail because of people like you. Now get the hell out of my room.” Nate glanced at the tall agent who had not said a word after the shorter one recognized me. “I’ll answer your questions, but I never want to see or talk to this man again.” Nate slammed the door on them and leaned back against it, huffing.
I was looking down at my feet when he walked over and lifted my chin, forcing me to meet his eyes.
“They called you Dally Allie?”
I flinched at the nickname and shrugged. “No one believed me. The bat with my blood and Logan’s fingerprints was never found. They said anyone could have jumped and beaten me, and the coma affected my memory.”
“The whole town wouldn’t listen to you?”
I laughed bitterly, reminiscing. “Not after my mother told everyone I was lying.”
“Why would she do that?”
“My dad does business with Logan’s father. I guess money ended up being more important.”
Nate shook his head and yanked me into a tight hug. The warmth of him soothed me as he rubbed my back.
“We have messed up lives.”
I hugged him back, needing to give him the same comfort he gave me. “Your father just stole ten thousand dollars from you and fled the country.”
“What do you do when you want to forget about everything? Something crazy?” Nate let out a stressed noise. “Well, I can’t believe I’m about to say this, but let’s go do something crazy.”
“Chug, chug, chug,” I repeated, slamming my fist on the bar for dramatic effect.
“Allie, you can’t chug a shot.” Nate glanced at me, amused, before he bent back and drank down the liquid courage also known as vodka.
“I was doing my impression of a drunk frat brother,” I explained my pleas for chugging. “How was I?”
“Good, but you needed to add at least two ‘togas, togas!’” Nate mock cheered, and I grinned at him.
Tipsy Nate was about to be my new best friend. He was much more open, and after a couple more shots, he might spew his every secret. Plus, when he drank, he was bolder too. I loved the way, at all times, he kept one of his hands on me. Since we sat at the crowded bar, our legs were already close to each other, but he still had a thrilling hand secured on my thigh.
“I’ll remember that next time.” I waved the bartender back over to refill our drinks. I sipped on a margarita while Nate attempted drinking his emotions away with shots of vanilla vodka. The situation started feeling less “crazy” and more sad. We needed to do something.
“Refill of the same?” the bartender questioned us.
The bartender smiled and nodded at me, while Nate raised a brow at my choice.
We were going to have fun.
I grabbed one of the salt packets from two seats away from me and positioned myself on the barstool, aligning myself with Nate. Facing him, I picked up his hand, which had been on my thigh, and licked it.
“What are you—” Nate began, but stopped and groaned when I twirled my tongue over the back of his hand.
The bartender placed the bowl of cut limes and two shot glasses full of tequila down in front of us.
With Nate distracted, I ripped open the salt packet and dusted the now moistened part of his hand with the salt crystals. Mm, he looked delicious. I could lick salt off him for hours. Salt, icing, whipped cream…. Our relationship would give me high blood pressure or diabetes in ten years. Make that five years.
“Put this in your mouth,” I told Nate, pressing a lime wedge against his lips.
“Allie—” His mouth opening to speak gave me the perfect opportunity to shove in the tart fruit. His lips curled back, but I gave him no time to respond.
Within seconds, I licked the salt off his hand and tossed back my shot. Grabbing his head and pulling him by the hair down to me for a lime kiss was the best decision I had ever made. I bit down on the lime to rid my taste buds of the burning taste of the tequila and reveled in the hot pressing of his lips against mine. Nate groaned as I pulled the lime out of his mouth.
“Your turn.” I winked and laughed at him as his face became utterly determined.
“You know, there’s a better way to do this…” The confidence in his deep voice turned me on.
“Oh, yeah?”
He leaned in and pushed my hair back, whispering in my ear, “Yeah.” He dipped his head down. A wet tongue dove between my cleavage and trailed up to the base of my neck. My head tipped back in abandon. Shivering, I held in my moan as he sprinkled the rest of the salt packet on the line of my skin where he licked.
“You better get all this salt off me.”
He moved back up to the intimacy of my ear. “Say the word, and I’ll lick every inch of you.”
“Say what word? What’s the word?” I asked.
Images of him teasing me burned in my brain, and all the sexual tension I had been feeling during the week rose yet again. I wanted him so much. We had both been building toward something big; we just needed that last jump off the ledge to satisfy us.
“If you want me to go all the way…” He nibbled on my earlobe, and I gasped. He was comfortable seducing me in the middle of a crowded bar? Note to self: tipsy Nate transformed into frisky Nate. “Just say…” I was on the edge of my seat for him; ready to say any word he could think of. “Persimmon,” he said.
Time stopped.
I pushed him off me as he laughed. He knew I hated the word persimmon. “You are obnoxious.” Nate was always hot and cold. He would tell me he wanted me then crack a joke, continuing to tease me instead of giving me what I wanted. Damn him, he knew just how much it frustrated me. “Now hurry up and lick this salt off me.”
He pointed at the second lime wedge. I sighed, picking it up and holding it in my mouth for him.
“Good girl,” he grinned, and I cursed the throbbing between my legs when he said those words.
He licked the salt off my chest, dragging his tongue over me and not caring about the watching bystanders. After swallowing down his shot, he bit into the lime I presented him with between my lips. The tart juices from it dripped down my chin to my throat, where he gave another lick. When he pulled back and saw my deep blush, he chuckled.
He yelled over to the bartender, “Two more, please.”
“Do it!” I squealed in excitement, clapping my hands.
Nate glared at me, which had me giggling louder. “I will not.”
“Please,” I whined, attempting puppy-dog eyes. The tattoo artist laughed at us.
“You’re not convincing me to get a tattoo; I’m not that drunk.”
I poked his nose. “You’re pretty drunk.”
“Not as drunk as you.”
“Getting a drunk tattoo is a rite of passage,” I exclaimed louder than I needed to in such a quiet, empty shop. “Don’t you want to live?”
“Yes, I want to live not having to pay to go through multiple expensive and painful tattoo removal procedures.”
“Fine.” I pouted and pushed him out of the black reclining chair. His seat became mine. “I want a bear,” I told the tattoo artist.
He gave me a small smile. “You are obviously intoxicated, and we’re not supposed to—”
“Give me a bear,” I repeated. I realized it might have sounded rude, so I added, “Please.”
“I—”
I pulled up my dress, too drunk to care about how I flashed Nate and him my red lace panties. Tattoo artists dealt with way worse than partial nudity. I pointed at the tattoo I had hidden on the side of my hip and the one on my foot.
“See?” I put my foot in his face so he could see the small Japanese symbol on it. “I’m not new to this.”
“Allie, put your dress down.” Nate fumbled with pulling the skirt back down to cover me. He also grabbed my ankle out of the man’s face. “Don’t spread your legs in front of strangers,” he scolded.
“My bad.”
The tattoo artist smiled while he put his tools away. “If you come back tomorrow and still want a tattoo, I’ll be happy to help you.”
“Well, damn.” I frowned and got out of the leather chair. “What do we do now?”
“Take an Uber home?” Nate suggested.
I shook my head. “Where is your sense of adventure? Let’s walk.”
“It’s like two miles away.” Nate followed me out of the tattoo parlor. I half fell into him when dizziness consumed me. “I don’t think you’re okay to walk that far.”
I waved off his concerns and took his hand in mine. If he was worried, I would hold on to him the whole way. No complaints here.
We walked at a normal pace, only stopping when I got distracted by a pretty tree or flower.
“Nate, look!” I pulled his arm over to the massive fountain. The fountain was well known at Beckett University. Big, mysterious, and luscious looking. No one could see the bottom of it so there were rumors as to how deep it went. Night cast a dark sheen over the water, the liquid reflecting the sky like a blanket of silver silk over onyx waves. Beautiful.
I wanted to jump into it.
“Yes, very pretty, now let’s get you home.”
I pulled on his arm again and ran over to it. “But I wanna go in.”
“Allie.” I heard Nate shout, and wide arms encircled my waist and stopped my running. “Don’t. One guy jumped into it my freshman year and cracked his head against the side. He almost drowned.”
“Oh, please.” I tried to escape him, but he wouldn’t let go. “I’ll be fine.”
“It’s deeper than it looks, and there could be stone ledges you can’t see in the dark.” I stopped my wiggling and cupped his cheeks with my hands. With my gaze on him, he spoke with less strength as he said, “You’ll get hurt.”
“I really like you.” I smiled and stole a quick kiss. With this distraction, I escaped his grasp and ran for the fountain. Once I stood on the step, I spun back to him, throwing my arms up and feeling free. “Daring to do what you shouldn’t, that’s living,” I yelled before jumping in.
Cold water surrounded me in seconds, and bubbles escaped my nose. After opening my eyes in the dark water and seeing nothing, I freaked out for a moment, thinking I had gone blind. I blinked to make sure my eyelids were open. All I saw was blackness. Abyss. It was haunting.
I stretched my legs down to find the bottom, but there was nothing beneath me. Deciding to swim back up for air, I kicked my legs but went nowhere. Something held me down. I felt my dress being pulled; the fabric caught on one of the stones.
Shit, I n
eeded to breathe. Why hadn’t I listened to Nate? What was wrong with me? Doing crazy things just to feel alive. Was I going to drown? Was death that easy to find? Where was Nate? Would he—
A body pressed to mine and tried tugging me up out of the water, but it still did not work. Nate must have realized the problem because his fingers brushed down to my legs where he ripped the thin fabric to free it from a sharp stone. We swam up for air, him not letting go of me for a second.
We surfaced and gasped together. He pressed his forehead to mine, hard enough to give me a headache. “Never. Do. That. Again,” he growled.
“I’m sorry.”
He swam me to the ledge to pull myself up and get out, helping me along the way. “You scared the shit out of me.”
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s my fault for approving of the crazy things you do.” Once he got out of the cold water too, he picked me up and carried me back in the direction of the dorm building. “That’s not what living is.”
I stayed quiet. It was how I lived. It was how I survived. I loved doing wild things I never planned for. That was who I was. Who I had no choice but to become after everything that had happened to me. I lived for distractions. For heart-racing experiences, the ones that proved I was still alive. That Logan had not killed me.
“Living isn’t about doing what can kill you,” Nate said.
Part of me disagreed.
Chapter 27
Nate:
* * *
By the time we got back to Allie’s dorm room, we were frozen by the cold. With soaked clothes in the late fall at night, I worried we would get hypothermia. Placing her down on her bed, she was already half asleep. Was I supposed to take the wet dress off her? Could she do it herself?
“Are you going to get this thing off me or not?” She tapped at her wrists as if she wore a watch. “I don’t want my bed to get wet.”
Okay. I could do this. Was I drunk? Yes. Did she turn me on just by breathing? Yes. But taking off her dress was for her safety, not for me to ogle her.