Unreserved: The Vault

by Michelle Dare

His eyebrows furrow. "What?"

  "I can't do this. How do I know you won't leave again? We were together one night, and you fucking left without so much as a note. When I finally decide to be with someone, it will be a man who has enough respect for me not to leave in the morning before I wake." My hands ball into fists at my sides. "I told myself I wasn't going to do this again. I was done with one-night stands, yet I thought you were different. You weren't. You’re the same as every other guy."

  He stumbles back slightly as the rain beats down on him, quickly soaking his shirt and showing off every hard ridge of his muscles. Then his face turns hard as stone. "You want me to leave? I came here to apologize, and you won't accept it?"

  "I do accept it, and I appreciate you doing it, but you’ve left once. What’s to stop you from doing it again? I don't know you, Rider. We only spent one night together. If you want me, you're going to have to prove it. And I don't mean just right now. I've been fucked over so many times by friends and lovers; I can't let someone in who could keep breaking me. I won't. So prove it or don't speak to me again."

  With that, I turn into the garage and shut the door. It lowers as I watch him slowly disappear on the other side. I don't miss the growl of his exhaust as he starts his SUV or the sound of his tires on the wet pavement as he accelerates down my driveway. I hurt him by only accepting his apology, but I suppose at this point, it’s better that he hurts than me.

  Once I'm in the house, I shut the door behind me and lean heavily against it.

  The silence is deafening.

  An unnecessary silence that didn't need to be if only I would have let Rider in.

  He came here.

  He apologized.

  And I cast him aside.

  I shake my head and try to rid myself of any guilt I have at making him leave. Part of me wonders if I made the right decision, but the other part knows I didn't. If this man wants more than just to fuck me, he'll find a way to treat me with the respect I deserve.

  Every time someone finds out who I am, and that I have access to all the clubs my father owns, they want to be my friends or boyfriends. They only want me to have access to the wealth and popularity that comes along with being with me. They don't give a shit who I am, nor about my feelings. Everything revolves around what I can do for them.

  I used to go to the club every night. It started out as mere publicity and to get myself known as part of the business. But I soon learned that no one took me seriously. I was the young daughter of the man who ran it all, and was treated like I didn't know a thing, even though I went to college and got my degree in business. But I'm blonde, slender, and must look like I'm out there to have fun. So that's what I did. Everyone thought I was just for show. The daughter who danced and partied like she didn’t have a care in the world.

  I drank a lot. Went to the clubs around the country to lose myself in the music. Private jets and more liquor than I knew what to do with. It was all amazing, and I melded right into that world. Until the morning I woke and someone who I thought was a friend disappeared without a word. Guys did it to me all the time, but when another woman betrayed me, the sting was much deeper. Even to my same sex, I was nothing more than a good time. Then I discovered things out of place in my office and realized, no matter how much people say they want to be my friend, and that my money doesn't matter, it always comes back to just that. And I'll be damned if I'm going to sit around and let people walk all over me anymore.

  Now, I'm the businesswoman everyone walks on eggshells around. Yes, I'm kind and smile when I need to but, behind closed doors, I'm as shrewd as my father.

  I went to him the morning I found my office had been gone through and told him I needed to change my life around. I was done clubbing and drinking. There were tears in his eyes when I said those words. He told me he knew I'd get there on my own, and he didn't want to force me but, had I continued on the road I was traveling, he was going to put me into treatment for my drinking.

  Ever since my mom died, he's given me whatever I wanted and, by me turning to liquor to drown out my sorrows, he didn't know what to do. He was more than glad when I realized it on my own before heading down a darker road. One that could have led to drugs. I was offered them all the time, but something in the back of my head whispered to me not to go there, and I didn't.

  So, here I am. Single. Still sad over the fact that I'm alone. But I'm making positive changes in my life. I run charities. I have a larger hand in the business. And one day, when my dad is no longer able to run the business, it will be mine. No way will I tarnish what he's done for me by fucking up or being with someone who only wants me for my money.

  I stand and straighten my spine, finally solid in my decision to tell Rider to leave. It was for the best.

  Four days go by before I hear from him again. In all honesty, I didn't think I was going to. Everything pointed to me being just another fuck for him and that was that. Then he sent me flowers. Not just any flowers either. Gorgeous violet irises. I'm not sure how he knew they were my favorite. The card attached to the delivery read, "I heard every word you said. I'm sorry and will make it up to you."

  This is the first step. I place the gorgeous bouquet on the round table in my breakfast nook so I can look at them when I sit down to eat. It's a start.

  Five minutes later, my phone rings. Not looking at the number, I answer it. My number isn't listed anywhere, and the only ones who have it are for business.

  "Hello?"

  "Did you get the flowers?" Rider's voice comes over the line, and damn if every nerve ending in my body doesn't come alive at the sound of his smooth tone.

  "I did. Thank you."

  "I'd like to have dinner with you." My mind starts whirling with this just being about publicity. He wants to be out in public and have people see me with him; then the rumor mill can start with everyone trying to figure out who the new man on my arm is. Most of the time, it's awful going out when everyone knows who I am.

  "I don't think that's such a good idea," I respond honestly.

  "I want to cook for you. In my home. Or I can come to you and cook. Whatever is easier for you." Well, that certainly wasn't what I was expecting. The tone of his voice tells me he's sincere. Now to weigh my options and find out more.

  "Why?" It's a simple question. It will tell me if he's being honest about what he said the other day.

  "I want to see you again. You're all I've thought about since we were together. You're different, Alicia. You don't want to fuck me and run. You're not after me because I'm a detective and you want to fulfill some kind of hot cop fantasy. And I want to prove to you that I'm not someone who is only in this with you for sex. Because I know what that feels like." Fuck me sideways. I never would have thought those words would come from him. I’m a little taken aback that women sleep with him just because he has a badge. He’s out there every day protecting people and solving crimes. The fact that women see him like some kind of fantasy to live out bothers me. He’s been used as I have.

  “I’m not saying I’m always innocent,” he admits. “I do go out looking for a good time as well, but it’s not always on me. I get where you’re coming from, even if it’s for a different reason.” His honesty hits a part deep inside me; the same part that was slammed into when he was honest at the charity event.

  "Your house," I respond. If all else fails, I can leave. Having dinner here would mean I'd give him another shot at running out on me in the morning...if I let it get that far. This way, I have more control over the situation. I can leave if I want, whenever I want.

  "Does Saturday at seven work? I can pick you up."

  "Saturday is good, but I'll drive myself."

  "I wouldn't keep you here if you didn't want to be,” he says, as if reading my mind. “If I drive you, and you want to leave at any point, I'll take you home without another word. I promise. Let me come get you. It would feel more like a date if I do." Dammit. When he says it like that, I can't resist. The idea of someone coming to my
house to pick me up for an actual date blows my mind. I haven't been on a traditional one in, shit, I'm not sure how long.

  "Okay," I say softly.

  "Perfect," he replies, and I can hear the smile in his voice. "Is there anything I should avoid making? Any food allergies?" Okay, now we're just heading into sweet territory, and I'm not sure what to do with that. Maybe he does want to prove to me I'm different and so is he.

  "No allergies."

  There's a long pause, neither of us saying anything, and then his voice cuts through again, reaching parts of me that have long lain dormant. "Alicia, I won't hurt you again. From this point forward, I'm going to be completely upfront with you. I want to get to know you. I want you to know me. Thank you for giving me the chance to do so."

  Emotion forms in my throat, and guilt from making him leave the other day gnaws at me. He was sincere, and I wasn't listening. But that's okay because now he has the chance to prove to me he's not after me for sex or money. He has the chance to prove he's a stand-up guy who has the best intentions. Though, if I'm honest with myself, I can't brush off the way he made me feel over and over that night. How every touch of his lips—every stroke of his hand—lit a fire inside me that had me near combustion.

  Instead of letting him hear how much his words affect me, I simply reply with, "See you on Saturday," and end the call.

  RIDER

  My palms are sweating as I pull on a pair of dark jeans and a black T-shirt. I don't want to go all out and dress nicely when one, that's not who I am, and two, I want this to be casual. Not all the fanciness of the event I went to with Alicia. This is just us and dinner at my place. But why the fuck are my palms sweating? I wipe them on my jeans before making sure I shut off the oven and leave to get Alicia. I'll finish cooking when I get home.

  The drive to her place isn't long and, before I know it, I'm driving up to her house, my heart pounding out of my chest. For fuck's sake, I need to get a grip. She's just a woman I'm having over for dinner. Nothing more. But what if I want it to be more? Nothing about this thing with her—whatever it is—is normal for me.

  Alicia is different, though. I was hired to watch over her that night and know she's not after me for anything other than this date. I wonder if she's as nervous as I am, or maybe I'm just a big sap and can't get my shit together.

  The garage door opens as I step out of the Durango. Alicia is there, bathed by the light of the garage in a pair of jeans and light blue, sleeveless blouse. It's when I step up to her that I notice the high heels she has on, putting her closer to my height. Her lips are right there in front of me, begging to be kissed, but I don't dare. Tonight I need to prove to her I don't want her just for sex.

  "Are you ready?" I ask, then chastise myself. Of course, she's ready. I'm such an idiot.

  "Yes." She steps out of the garage and pulls out her phone, closing the door behind her, and probably arming the house with the alarm she has on it.

  I walk with her to the passenger side of my SUV and hold the door open for her. Fuck, if my buddy, Rowe, could see me now. Back in the day, he would have given me shit for being so into one woman, but that was before he met his girlfriend, Hope. Or wife, I should say. They got married a few months ago. Bastard didn't even invite me. I don't think they invited anyone, actually. He said they didn't want a big wedding or to wait a long time before tying the knot. They just wanted to be together. I congratulated him before giving him hell for not inviting me. He's one of my closest friends, even though he lives far away.

  I'm slowly driving down Alicia's driveway, watching the subtle movements of her hand over her jeans. She anxiously looks out the side window and back through the windshield. Maybe she's as nervous as I am.

  Reaching over, I take her hand in mine and give her a small smile. "I hope this is okay," I say and squeeze her hand. I slept with this woman, yet I'm acting like this is the first time I've ever touched her.

  She returns my smile. "It is."

  The rest of the drive to my place is done with my eyes straight ahead, no matter how badly I want to stare at those legs of hers as she crosses and uncrosses them. My dick stirs to life as I remember what they felt like wrapped around me as I was thrusting into her over and over again. What I wouldn't give to be back between them. To taste her again. To make her come with only my tongue. She squirms a little in the seat as if she can read my mind.

  We finally reach my townhouse, and that’s when it dawns on me how little I have compared to her. I don't have the money she does. I own this place, but I'm saving to buy a single-family home. All this shared wall shit gets on my nerves. However, I don't want to go into debt, so whatever money I earn that isn't spent on the basics and going out, it's in the bank. I don't spend much when I hit the bars.

  I rub the back of my neck as we walk up to the door. "It's not much," I tell her. "But it's home for now."

  "For now?"

  "I'm saving to buy a bigger place." As soon as the door opens, the scent of dinner hits us. "I'm going to finish cooking. It'll be ready soon. Have a seat. Make yourself at home."

  Alicia walks over and sits on the couch. At least the place is clean. I've never been one of those people who throws clothes everywhere and doesn't give a shit what my home looks like. I think I got that from my mom. Dad told me how she was always cleaning and wanted everything in order. I like knowing I received one of her personality traits.

  Twenty minutes later, dinner is done. Thank fuck Alicia lives close enough that I could turn off the oven while I was gone and it still kept the food hot. I turned it back on when we arrived, and it was easy putting the rest of the meal together.

  We sit down at my small, round table and eat. Conversation is kept light, and at no point do I feel uncomfortable about any of the topics. That doesn't stop my eyes from raking over every part of her, etching it to memory, wondering what's going to happen when the food is gone.

  Alicia dries the dishes as I wash them, even though I insisted they could wait. I want to spend time with her, not doing chores. Though, I have to admit there's something comfortable about standing at the sink and doing an everyday task like this. She fits here: in my place, by my side.

  After we're done, I pour us each another glass of wine, and we sit on the couch with the lights dimmed. The curtains are open on the big bay window in my living room so we can watch the heat lightning as it dances across the sky.

  "I love storms," she tells me. "When I was little, I used to be drawn to them. I'd sit out on the back deck or watch them from my bedroom window. There's something wild about them. You never know where the lightning will hit next. As strange as it sounds, it's oddly soothing. No matter what I have going on in my life, to this day, I will stop and watch storms as they roll in."

  I turn to look at her, the low light in the room illuminating her features just enough that I can make out the supple curves of her lips. "Alicia?" She turns to face me. "I want to kiss you."

  "Then what are you waiting for?" she teases, with a slight quirk of her lips.

  I don't waste a second longer and lean in to take possession of her mouth. My mind is screaming at me to take it slow, but it's overruled by my body. My hand reaches up to cup the back of her neck, keeping her close as my tongue sweeps into her mouth, tasting the red wine. My other hand caresses her leg through her jeans, sliding ever so slowly northward.

  She doesn't stop me, only moans into my mouth and fists my shirt in her hands. Her body inches closer to mine until I grasp the underneath of her thigh and pull her onto my lap. Her legs rest on either side of me, her hot center over my already hard length. Gripping her ass in my hands, I pull her flush against me as she rolls her hips, rubbing us just right.

  I untuck her blouse with one hand as my other continues to urge her to keep moving. She feels so good against me. So right. My fingers trace up the curve of her waist to the lace of her bra, lifting it to delve my fingers inside. Her nipple is taut when I pinch it then swallow her cry of pleasure with a toe-curling kiss.<
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  "Tell me to stop," I rasp against her neck as I trail kisses over her soft skin. "I'll do whatever you ask." I will, but damn, it will be hard to stop. I want her badly.

  Her nails dig into my shoulder as she shamelessly continues to grind her hips into mine. "Don't stop."

  I unbutton her blouse, gently pushing it from her shoulders, and unhook her bra, letting her perfect breasts bounce free. Dipping my head, I tease one stiff peak with my tongue, loving how she arches her back in response.

  "Are you sure?" I ask. Once I undo her jeans, there's no turning back, and I want to make sure she wants this as badly as I do. I feel like the world will end if I don’t get to sink inside of her again. Dinner was great, but this, right now, this is heaven on earth.

  And I want more of it.

  "I want you," she cries as my teeth gently nip at her nipple. "Fuck, I want you inside me."

  Lifting her, I place her on her back on the couch and rid her of her jeans and panties until she’s lying bare before me, though I'm still fully clothed. Her legs press together as she palms her breasts, creating the most gorgeous sight I've ever seen. My dick is painfully hard as I take off my clothes. Precum leaks from the tip of my dick the second it's free from its confines. I resist every urge to wrap my hand around it. Instead, I kiss down Alicia's stomach, creating a trail to the juncture of her thighs then sweep my tongue over her center. She cries out and fists her hands into my hair, lifting me off her.

  "No, I'm too close. I want you inside me. Please," she begs.

  That's the only cue I need to grab one of the condoms I put in my jeans pocket at the last minute. No, I wasn't planning on having sex tonight, but I hoped. Not because that's all I want from her, but because I want all of her. I want her laughs and her moans. I want her sassy attitude and her tongue touching mine. I want whatever she has to give me.

  I roll the condom on and settle myself between her legs, my dick teasing her entrance, not thrusting inside her yet.