Borden (Borden #1)

by R. J. Lewis

  “And you’re here to intimidate me,” I interrupted. I was surprised at my outburst, but I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. All I kept thinking about just then were Granny’s words echoing inside my mind.

  Don’t let anybody walk all over you.

  I wondered if she would feel the same way if she knew it would be Borden walking all over me.

  Probably not.

  “Isn’t that right?” I pressed, swallowing hard.

  He tilted his head to the side and his lips twitched. “I’m here to tell you I can do a little more than just intimidate, Miss Warne. I can do pretty much anything I want.”

  Right there he was demonstrating his power over me, and I felt a slither of anger at his cockiness.

  “Anything,” he proceeded to say, his eyes roaming every part of me, sending my heart rate on overdrive and at the same time making my skin flush from the intensity of his gaze. “And you know what I mean about anything, don’t you, Miss Warne?”

  I gripped the edge of the desk behind me tightly with both hands as I retorted, “I know that you’re threatening me.”

  He licked his lips again, those fucking lips of doom that made my own tingle. “I’m simply stating the facts, doll. Every action has an equal and opposite reaction.”

  I blinked. Did the asshole just quote one of Newton’s three laws of motion to me?

  He continued to move toward me, and I was suddenly very mindful of that. Completely frozen in place, I watched him cut the distance, part of me wondering what he was going to do when he reached me…and why I was so interested to find out.

  “Am I making myself clear, Emma?” he asked, stopping in front of me, leaning forward so he was standing over me. His arms were outstretched on either side of me, gripping the desk behind me, calloused fingers lightly brushing against mine.

  I tilted my head up at him and felt my body tremble under the weight of his gaze. To submit, or not to submit? That was the question.

  And I kinda fucked it up.

  “No, Borden,” I bit back without thought. “You’re just being a bully, and it’s ridiculous because you’re the one that fucked up. I never asked to hear what I did when I walked out of your club; it just happened. If something like that jeopardises your business, your reputation, or your interests, then maybe you ought to start strangling people off your premises.”

  Silence.

  Dear God, what had I just said? Truth was, his words had hit a nerve. There was nothing I hated more than somebody inserting their authority over me. Someone that made me feel trapped and degraded, like scum that could be bossed around anytime he liked, and you know what? I’d been looked through enough the last two years working at this dump of a place, being bossed around by a dick who thought I was nothing. But being passive at work was a necessity. I needed income and I needed a job, and it didn’t matter what that was.

  But this wasn’t work. This was a man that wanted to control me by frightening me, and I certainly was not brought up to take this kind of abuse. Marcus Borden or not, it was unacceptable, and, admittedly, it was killing what little pride I had left.

  When his captivating eyes widened even just a little bit at what I’d said, I knew I could corner him. I knew he was trying to intimidate me and make me feel like I had no choice, but I did. This newfound realization toughened me up just enough for me to lean forward, until we were inches apart, and return the severe look he was now giving me.

  “Do you think I’d have walked out that door if I knew what was going to happen?” I asked him. “Do you know how deluded I would have to be to talk about it too? I’m well aware of what you’re capable of, but you’re misplacing your blame, and it would be wise if we both just stop and forget whatever happened, or whatever we think happened the other night.”

  If he had chosen to talk right then and there, I’m not sure I would have heard him over the sounds of my own heartbeats whooshing in my ears. My fingernails dug into the wood of the desk painfully as my heart nearly shot out of my chest.

  His expression remained the same, and I was beginning to wonder whether he even heard a word I said, until he made a slight nod. Then, without warning, his hand reached up, capturing my chin possessively in his grip, forcing me to look at him as he stared into my eyes. There wasn’t anger there, but there was a curiosity that went layers deep. I gasped, shocked by the warmth in his touch, at the startled warmth in his gaze, at how near he was to my face, as he whispered, “You’re feisty, aren’t you, alley cat?”

  I blinked in surprise, utterly speechless.

  “You’re a little kitten. You think you’re vicious, but you’re fucking adorable instead.”

  Now I glared and he inched even closer, until I felt his body pressing against the front of mine. I tried not to react to the feel of something hard and long against my stomach. Frankly, it was so unexpected, my brain simply could not compute, but my body…well, my skin flushed and my heart paced even harder, and still, he drew nearer.

  “Let me go,” I whispered to him, fighting hard against the strange flutters in my belly.

  “Why?” he asked quietly, those blue eyes digging into my own. “You’re excited, aren’t you? I can see it on your face. You’re all red and breathless.”

  “Let me go,” I repeated.

  He was delusional. I wasn’t excited. At least… the logical part of me wasn’t. Yet my body…well, my fucking body was reacting like an animal would, all instinct and without rational thought.

  It didn’t mean anything.

  “Maybe we can rectify this some other way,” he murmured, his breaths hot on my mouth, his other hand slowly roaming from my hip and up my waist. I tried not to think about how warm and good his hand felt, or how weak a part of me wanted to be in order to accept this. Just as his fingers brushed against my breast, something in me snapped. Angry, I raised my hand and slapped him across the face.

  Hard.

  I slapped him really, really hard.

  The sound was loud, like a whip, and it made my goddamn ears pop. It was sort of like the aftermath of a bomb exploding. That ringing in the air, the shock of what had happened, the discombobulated feeling of being outside your body instead of within.

  And then, sheer terror.

  Oh, shit. Shit, shit, fucking shit. What the fuck have I done?

  His hands instantly dropped, and he took a step back, his eyes wide, his mouth hanging open. His cheek went crimson red, and his face was a mixture of downright rage and…something else. Something…delicious and… primitive and…

  Without warning, he suddenly wrapped his hand around my neck and harshly pulled me forward, crashing his mouth against mine. I froze at the feeling of his surprisingly soft lips, forcing me to part my own, of his large warm body enveloping mine, of the way my heart thumped excitedly in my chest. He pressed himself against me, that raging hard-on thicker than before, sending more flutters inside my belly, travelling lower and lower, exciting forbidden places. It felt like coals slowly burning hotter inside me, and it was so strangely erotic, I sank into his embrace and parted my lips, welcoming his tongue as it stroked mine. I trembled, breathing hard into his mouth. He tasted good. Unusually good for a monster.

  Without reservation, his other hand slid down my back, gripping my ass and keeping me firmly in place against him. Without seeking my permission, he acted like he was entitled to touch me however way he wanted. He was a cocky motherfucker, knowing I’d oblige after reducing me to a puddle of sparks, ready to detonate at his command.

  My legs shuddered and my thighs tingled. My sex pulsed suddenly, the ache within me growing every second he prolonged the kiss, his firm hand still wrapped around the back of my neck. Already, my mind fired a thousand different thoughts. I imagined him picking me up and spreading me out on the desk. Thought of how good the emptiness inside of me would feel when he plunged himself into me, filling me up one inch at a time. I was surprisingly okay with the vision, and it was only because I was so bloody turned on.


  I was embarrassingly into it, so fiercely out of control, and pleading with my lips for him to keep going. God, keep going! I was groaning against him – actually fucking groaning – like he was pleasuring me to orgasm.

  Then, just as abruptly, he pulled away from my mouth and I almost groaned out again in dismay this time. My eyes flickered open, and I watched him stare at me with this puzzled look. His chest was heaving up and down. He dropped his hands from me and took a step back, eyes still focused on mine with that “what the fuck just happened” face. I was sure I returned it.

  I didn’t say anything.

  I mean, what could be said? Like, hey, why’d you kiss me after I slapped you? Why did I enjoy it too? Wait a minute, a more important question: why did you enjoy it? Please, enlighten me, and maybe we can go back to doing what we were doing, slaps and gropes and tongues and all!

  Yeah, no. Horny Emma needed to stay quiet and locked away in her cage. The slutty little thing. Shame on her.

  He cleared his throat, composing himself. “Consider us even, now,” he said, his voice dangerously low.

  It was his sex voice, I realized. And my god, that was hot.

  “But from here on out,” he continued gruffly, his eyes growing harder on mine, “I don’t want anything to come back to me because you opened that pretty little fucking mouth of yours. Or else I’ll have to come back and make use of that pretty little fucking mouth again. Understand?”

  He didn’t wait for me to respond. He abruptly turned around and walked out, not bothering to say bye, because what kind of guy like him said good bye, anyway?

  Just a kiss them and leave them kind of guy, Emma.

  My legs were like jelly as I followed after him slowly. Practically panting, I emerged from the office and watched him leave. He was a steady man, tall and confident in himself, but even I could see he hadn’t been entirely prepared for what had happened. I’d surprised him, and I didn’t know how that made me feel.

  Because I’d also surprised myself.

  When he was out of sight I brushed my fingers over my lips, and they felt fuller than before. I let out a long breath, and the tension slowly left my body. It still felt like he was touching me everywhere, and I tried hard to disregard the strange pull at the very pit of my stomach. Fuck, his mouth had been on mine. Those lips of fucking doom lived up to that name and he’d been turned on by that slap but…but by why exactly?

  Feeling the curious eyes of practically every diner there, I turned around and hurried away. I walked out of the backdoor and stood in the open alleyway, staring idly at the graffiti on the wall, listening to the birds that chirped overhead, waiting for my flushed skin to cool and for my breathing to slow down.

  Only dead fish swim with the stream, I read over and over again as my heart thundered inside my chest.

  Ten

  Borden

  What in the holy fuck just happened?

  No, really, he needed to know. He’d only intended on getting to the bottom of why she’d never opened her mouth to the police, something that’d given him a brand new emotion upon learning.

  It was the feeling of shock.

  Gracious, she’d told the officer he’d been to her.

  Gracious.

  Yeah, as fucking gracious as a lion is to a gazelle after he chased it down and sank his teeth into its neck.

  Borden had had similar problems in the past, and those bastards always opened their mouths to the police officer he sent them. So why didn’t she? When he was told this, he was compelled to come to this shithole part of town and understand. But now he was more confused than ever.

  After he exited the diner, he stopped abruptly several stores down.

  Did he…Did he just let a person talk to him like that? And did he… did he just fucking kiss that person after they’d slapped him?

  What the fuck?

  The shock only intensified.

  He looked back at the vague outline of the terrible business that he couldn’t even fathom made money at all. The smell of it had churned his damn insides into minced meat.

  He frowned.

  Nobody talked to him like that! No matter who they were – even if they were twice his fucking size and packed more muscle than him– nobody had ever spoken to him like that in four years. And if they did – which they never fucking dared to do – they would have never gotten away with it.

  He licked his lips, and still he tasted her. The girl abuses him and he kisses her for it. And not just kisses her, but fucking ravages her too. How the fuck did that make any sense? And why in the holy fuck did that make him even hotter?

  A woman has just brought you down to your knees, Marcus. Just like that.

  His blood boiled.

  It was like anger had been injected into his veins. It ran rampant throughout his body. Always the anger, always the inability to fight it knowing the only way out was through. It made him want to storm back in there, grab her by her tiny little arm and demand an apology.

  No.

  No.

  He wanted to storm in there, grab her by the fucking hair, and bend her over that nasty ass piece of shit desk and fuck her hard and deep, just to call it more even.

  She was terrified of him! He saw the way she shook, the way her light brown eyes looked away from his, and yet…and yet she spoke to him unhindered by it! And that kiss had been returned so heartily, so fiercely, he knew she had been stripped of all her senses just like he had been. And just the memory of what transpired minutes ago instantly wiped away the anger and replaced it with… a weird rush. Like a fucking drug-like kind of rush!

  The feeling was so foreign to him, it left him temporarily frozen to the concrete. He could practically taste the colours; they were there, lingering around the edges, trying to break through. He felt a stir inside of him, and something… thrilling emerged.

  “The fuck you looking at?” Borden barked at a random passerby that had slowed down to look at him.

  His eyes widened and he ran away. Yes, this was the reaction Borden was used to. Not being told off by a girl no more than half his size with the saddest looking eyes and the creamiest skin and the feistiest little mouth…

  His cock suddenly twitched. Fucking traitor.

  She was just as fucking hard now as she was when she was fourteen, and it intrigued him too damn much to ignore.

  Little alley cat.

  He pulled out his cell phone and dialled a number.

  “Hawke,” he said, “I’ve got an errand for you. Emma Warne. I want to know every fucking thing about her. Where she went to school, who she’s friends with, who she’s fucking – hell, everyone she’s ever fucked before. Everything.”

  Without waiting for a response, he hung up and placed the phone back into his pocket. He knew he was being impulsive, but it was a welcoming emotion. It broke the dull void of his day. He hadn’t crossed someone so resilient in a millennia, and even that five hundred pound of walking cholesterol was a disappointment.

  Emma was different.

  He just knew it.

  “The fuck you looking at?” he barked out again at another set of horrified eyes.

  Cue more running.

  Eleven

  Emma

  Still in a daze, I made it to Granny’s around seven at night. The porch light was on for me, something she used to do every night I’d come home late while living with her. It was a two bedroom, one storey home, tight for the two of us but good enough for her. The house was over sixty years old and Granny had moved into it after she took parental custody of me when I was seven years old. This was sixteen years ago and I remember it clear as day: the confusion, the excitement, the questions she’d delicately answered following the events that transpired after my mother’s incarceration.

  One thing I loved about the house was Granny never made any changes to it. Every time I walked through the door it was like walking back into my childhood, and she tried hard giving me a good one at that.

  I carried a spare key wit
h me always. When I stepped inside, all was quiet and dark. I called out to her and heard a muffled snore from the living room. She was sleeping in the armchair with a photo album flipped open in her lap. Her long white hair fell over parts of her aged face. I stood for a while, admiring her and loving her more with the bittersweet realization that she was only going to get older. She was in her early seventies and was beginning to really look it nowadays.

  The floorboard beneath me creaked and she stirred immediately. Her eyes slowly opened and she smiled widely when she saw me.

  “Oh, you did come!” she exclaimed, putting down the photo album to give me a hug.

  “Of course I did. I missed you,” I said, returning her hug tightly.

  Later she served me mud cake with a tall glass of lemonade, another child hood favourite. We sat down at the kitchen table and talked about her health, about my living conditions and my job. It took me no time to demolish most of my plate.

  “I think you should keep searching for another job,” she said. “There has to be something else that pays better, Emma.”

  “I know,” I agreed. “It’s just so hard. There aren’t that many jobs anymore, Gran. So many people are coming to live here now. I’ve applied for so many but the competition’s fierce. The diner is pulling me through enough for now.”

  “Just keep applying. Maybe there will be more businesses opening with the flood of people, and you can find a bookkeeping position. No matter how hopeless it might feel, you can only be in it to win it. Isn’t that right?”

  I nodded but it wasn’t that easy either. I knew I was getting too comfortable at the diner and was taking my time looking for something else, but there were bills that needed to be paid and I was always just barely breaking even. I had to start knuckling down at finding something else.