“Maybe it’s not the best idea to go over there after I’ve been drinking.”
Jill holds up her glass of wine. “No. The best idea would be for you to have another two glasses and then go.”
Kristin opens our last bottle of pinot grigio and tops off my glass. “Bottoms up, bitch.”
I’m not completely hammered but this glass is going to be the one that shoves me over the edge.
“Get your ass up. You’re changing out of those fat clothes and putting on something sexy.”
I follow them to my bedroom and sit on the bed as they go through my wardrobe. Within minutes, it looks like my closet puked all over my room and I’m wearing a spaghetti strap sundress. No bra.
“Inconspicuous but easy access to the carrot, just in case.”
The just in case sends chills over my body. “Not so sure about the inconspicuous theory.”
Jill pushes another glass of wine my way. “Finish this off so you don’t chicken out.”
“Another glass or not, I’m considering backing out.”
“No, you’re not. This is the first promising relationship since your breakup with Martin. You’re doing this.”
My breakup. Right.
Jill taps the bottom of my wine glass. “Drink.”
When I see the bottom of the glass, there’s no denying it. I’ve crossed the fence. Fallen over it, actually. I’m tanked. “Okay. Let’s do this.”
My girls walk me to the patio door and Jill holds out the wrench. “You’re hot. Sexy. Confident. He wants you.”
Kristin pushes up on my boobs from the bottom. “Rub your nipples so he can see them through your dress.”
“Are you kidding me?”
“Come on, Addie. Do it. Guys love it when they’re hard.”
I recall the special attention Oliver gave to my breasts, so I reach into my dress and pinch my nipples, pulling on them so they’ll elongate. “Better?”
“Oh yeah. He’ll like that.”
“Okay. I’ve got this. I’ve got this. Tell me again I’ve got this.”
“You’ve got this, Addie.”
Jill and Kris are standing at the door when I look back. “Go, ho.”
Fuck. I’m not getting out of this.
My mind and head spin as I cross from my property to Oliver’s. None of the lights are on but I think I see the flash of the television in the living room window.
Even intoxicated, I know I’m a dumbass for doing this. It’s juvenile. I’m acting like a twenty-seven-year-old teenager.
I ring the bell and come up with at least one dozen reasons I should haul ass before he comes to the door and sees me sloshed—in this dress, with erect nipples, on his doorstep. I consider it hard, but I’m afraid I’ll face-plant in the front yard. And that would suck so much worse.
Tick-tock. Tick-tock. Tick-tock. No Oliver. Maybe he isn’t home. After all, it’s Saturday night. He’s probably out on a date or some shit like that.
I turn to leave and Oliver opens his front door. He looks at me, puzzled, through squinted eyes. “Max?” His voice is raw and scratchy.
Shit. I woke him.
“Umm—”
“What are you doing?”
“Umm—”
His hair is unruly, reminding me of a faux hawk gone wrong. He’s shirtless and I can’t take my greedy eyes from his muscular, tattooed chest. I want to lick it. Bite his nipples again. And that damn V at his waist disappearing into those thin athletic shorts. I want to lick it too.
Fuck. He looks amazing.
I want him.
I step closer and grasp the back of his neck with my free hand. I press my mouth to his with the intention of possessing it. And he lets me.
His tongue is soft. Wet. Alluring. Everything I remember.
I came to entice him. Dangle the carrot and walk away. But it’s he who holds the power to seduce me.
Oliver cups his hand around the side of my face. “Max.”
He says my name and I panic as memories of the this-isn’t-going-to-work-for-me incident flashes in my head. I’m terrified to hear what comes after my name so I step away and hold out his tool.
“You left your wrench at my house. I thought I’d bring it to you. That’s why I’m here… this time of night… because I have nothing better to do.”
He chuckles and I want to die because that is likely the lamest damn thing I’ve ever said to someone. “Thanks. I’m sure I would have been looking for this tomorrow.”
“You’re welcome.” I want to run. Get away now.
I’m halfway down the sidewalk when he calls out to me. “Max.”
I stop before I consider doing otherwise and turn at the sound of my name. “Hmm?”
“You look beautiful… this time of night… when you have nothing better to do.”
Fuck. Me.
My carrot may be working on this jackrabbit after all.
11
Oliver Thorn
I didn’t eat breakfast when I got up. After her late-night visit, I anticipated a Sunday brunch invitation from Adelyn. But it didn’t come.
I’ve spent all morning thinking about last night’s kiss. It has to mean that all isn’t forsaken between us. Surely, it means she’s coming around. Maybe. Hopefully. And yet I sit here without a word from her today. Not a call. Not a text. Nada.
But that kiss. Fuck, it was hot.
There are two cars parked in her drive this morning. At least two people stayed overnight. One of them could have been a man in her bed last night. Maybe a man who would happily give her all the kink she desires and things I told her that I couldn’t give her.
I picture some asshole putting his hands on her. Holding her down. Pulling her hair. Grasping her throat. Fucking her pussy. Maybe even her ass. Plus, all the other kinky shit I discovered during my research. My blood fucking boils as I consider the possibility of some other man doing those things to her.
Does she want to be treated like a princess in public and a whore in the bedroom?
I’ve looked out my kitchen window at least a dozen times this morning trying to see what’s going on at Adelyn’s house. Trying to at least catch a glimpse of who’s there. Not knowing is killing me.
But caring is killing me more.
I hear what I believe is a splash and girly squeal, but not a panicked version like the one about the snake yesterday. It’s more of a fun-like yelp.
I take the stairs two at a time and peek through my guest bedroom window since it provides a view into Adelyn’s backyard and pool. I stand there waiting to catch a glimpse of Adelyn’s guests.
I’m fucking pathetic for doing this.
I’m pleased when I see one bikini. Then two. And finally a third. She had girlfriends over last night. She wasn’t in a chokehold getting fucked by some alpha asshole.
I’m slightly disgusted by my relief and sudden lift in mood.
Given that Adelyn is tied up for the time being, I might as well do something instead of sitting around by myself thinking about how badly I wish I could see her.
I call Porter first. “Hey, dipshit. Want to come over and watch the game later?”
“I’ve got nothing better to do, so sure.”
It’s Sunday and he’s not MIA for the first time in weeks. I’m not sure what that means. “Game starts at six. Lawry said she was working on some kind of furniture-refinishing project with a friend today so I’m gonna see if Lucas wants to come too. I’ll ask him to try sweet-talking my sister into sending food.” Hopefully, guacamole.
“Please, because you can’t cook for shit.”
“Like you can.”
“I’m not as bad as you.”
“No longer the case. I’ve been getting lessons.”
“Who the fuck from? Ronald McDonald?”
“Adelyn’s taught me some stuff. I know how to make homemade pizza.” Well, maybe I could if I had the recipe for her crust. Which I don’t.
“I’ll believe that shit after I see it.”
“Okay. You’re on. Homemade pizza tonight. Got a Benjamin that says you’ll eat the fuck out of it.”
“You’re on, fucker. I’ll bring chips and dip so we’ll have something to eat after you fail.”
“On.”
I know I don’t have bread flour. Or yeast. Or that special salt she used. I’m definitely making a grocery store run, but I don’t want to forget anything.
Oliver: Can you give me a list of the ingredients for the pizza crust?
Oliver: And the sauces.
Oliver: Hell, I need the entire recipe with all the steps. For everything.
That’s going to be a lot of typing. She’s swimming. She probably doesn’t want to stop to fuck with me about a recipe.
Oliver: I know you’re busy w/ your friends. Maybe send me a pic of the recipe?
Dammit. She’s going to wonder how I know she’s busy with her friends.
Adelyn: No biggie. Just hanging by the pool. The list is pretty long so I’ll be over in a min.
Fuck. She’s coming over. I get to see her.
I don’t hate that.
Oliver: Great. Thanks.
As promised, Adelyn is knocking on my kitchen’s French door in no time. “It’s open.”
Oh hell. She’s wearing a thin white cover-up over my favorite black bikini. It’s wet so there are two damp circles over her chest, leaving very little to my imagination about what’s underneath. But of course, I’ve been lucky to see everything underneath. Touch it. Squeeze it. Suck it into my mouth. I don’t have to use my imagination.
“Hey. What’s up?” Her voice is soft. Her cheeks red. Her expression sheepish. I think she’s embarrassed about last night but she shouldn’t be. I’m happy she came over. I’m happy she tasted like wine; I think it’s what made her brave enough to kiss me.
“I’m having Porter and Lucas over tonight to watch the game. I thought I might show off my new ability to make homemade pizza except I don’t know how without a recipe.”
“Got a notepad and pen I can use?”
I pull out the kitchen drawer where I keep stuff like that. My junk drawer. “Yup.”
She spreads her right arm on the counter and bends over so her left hand is wrapped around the notepad, writing on it from the top. “You’re left-handed.”
“Mmm… hmm.”
All the time we’ve spent together and I’m just now catching that.
She’s bent over my kitchen counter writing the recipe. Is she doing that to me on purpose? If she is or not, I don’t deny myself the view of looking at her perfectly outlined ass peeking through her wet cover-up.
All I’d have to do is ease down her bikini bottom and I could be buried deep inside her in a few seconds.
“Get Bob’s Red Mill unbleached enriched artisan bread flour. It comes in a purple bag. Costs a little more but it makes the best crust.” She turns to look at me and catches me staring at her ass. “What brand did I say?”
She knows I was ogling. Not listening. “Purple Mill.”
“No. It’s Bob’s Red Mill unbleached enriched artisan bread flour. Purple bag.” She lifts a brow. “Got it?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Good.” She goes back to writing the recipe on the notepad and my eyes return to roaming her body. They leave her ass and hesitate at her neck. So many thoughts cluster in my head.
Could I hold her down by the throat?
Own her?
Control her?
Two weeks ago, I thought no. Not just no. Fuck no. I wanted no part of that shit.
But today I feel differently.
I’ve had a little time to absorb the shock of it, but I still don’t think I can choke her. It’s too violent. Brings back too many shitty memories. But could we try a subtler version of what she wants? Needs? Could she bend a little if I did as well? And together we try to find a way for me to satisfy her needs while not exceeding my boundaries?
“It’s your first solo go at a pizza crust so call me if you have problems or questions. I don’t mind coming over if you need help.”
Fuck. I wish I could get her back over here after our friends leave. “Don’t be surprised if you hear from me.”
“That’ll be okay.”
My eyes follow her neck to the curve of her shoulder. “You’re red.”
“Shocker.” She lifts her shoulder and pushes away the top of her cover-up and strap of her bikini to survey her skin. I’d love to keep pulling it down.
“Hell yeah, look at that. We’ve only been out for an hour, and I’m already burning. With sunscreen.”
“It doesn’t look too bad right now but be careful.”
I was severely burned as a child. I still remember how painful it was and how much Jimmy laughed about it. He told Lawry and me that we were little idiots for playing outside in the sun all day.
We were little kids who didn’t know better. They were the idiots who never taught us what happened when you stayed in the sun too long.
“I’m probably in the shade the rest of the day. I don’t want to risk being burned. With me, it’s one of those things you don’t detect coming on. You figure it out after it’s too late.”
I like the idea of her staying in the shade. A sunburn would definitely prevent any kind of get-together between the two of us later.
I take the notepad from the counter. “I guess I’m off to shop. I’m used to doing a bachelor sweep through the grocery store so it should be fun hunting down these ingredients.”
“It won’t be bad. The bread flour, yeast, salt, oil, and sugar are all in the same aisle.”
“That helps.”
“I’d go with you if I didn’t have friends over. We haven’t hung out in a while, so it would be really shitty of me to drop them.”
“It’s okay. It’s really nice of you to leave them to come over and help me.”
“They don’t mind. They encouraged me to come when you texted.”
She didn’t want to come over? Was last night their idea too? Have I misread this?
“Nice of them to share you with a bachelor in need.”
“They knew I wanted to come.”
She crosses her arms, shielding my view of her bikini and tits through her wet top. Dammit.
“About last night. I’m sorry I woke you. I didn’t realize how late it had gotten.”
That’s not where I was hoping she would go with this. I want to talk about the kiss.
“Don’t be. It was great of you to bring the wrench over. I would have been searching high and low for it the next time I work on the bike.”
Come on, Adelyn. Bring up the kiss. It’s the perfect introduction for the conversation I want to have about how we might explore this relationship.
“So I guess I should get back to Jill and Kristin.”
No, stay. “Right.” I hold up the recipe. “Thanks again.”
“No problem.”
Adelyn grasps the doorknob and hesitates.
“What is it?”
“Last night.” She lowers her face so she isn’t looking at me. Embarrassed, maybe? Afraid? The thing I know for sure is her confidence is shaken. I’m the one who did that so it’s my job to fix it.
I don’t give her time to overthink it or second-guess her decision. “The kiss. I liked it.”
She doesn’t look back, but I see her biting her lip as a smile tries to break through. “Good. I liked it, too.”
That’s all she says before opening the door and leaving.
Two weeks ago she trusted me enough to show me who she was. Show me her dark side. And I rejected it. I rejected her. I hurt this woman who’s already been so incredibly wounded. She didn’t deserve that shit from me.
And now I have to start over with her. Backtrack. Gain her trust all over again so we can pursue the possibilities of us.
I have work to do.
Braves won. Pizza was a success. Took Porter’s money. The night’s been a win.
And it’s not over yet.
Oliv
er: Pizza turned out great.
I considered faking a disaster so I could call Adelyn over but decided it would be a waste since Porter and Lucas were here.
Adelyn: I was wondering. I knew you could do it. Glad it went well.
I want to see her.
Oliver: Thanks. You’re a good instructor. Your friends still there?
Please say no.
Adelyn: They went home after dinner.
Yes.
Oliver: Feel like coming over?
Delayed response. Damn. Hope that isn’t a sign she’s coming up with an excuse.
Adelyn: Sure. Be over in a few.
It isn’t a few. It’s more like thirty.
I’m pretty sure Adelyn showered. Her hair is fluffy and she looks fresh, not at all like someone who spent the day sweating by the pool. But I’m not complaining. She smells so fucking good. The fragrance is a cross between fruity and floral but not overpowering.
“Have a good time with your friends?”
“We had a blast. It’s been way too long since we did something like that.”
“No Maurice?”
“Dear Lord, no. He’s in a different circle than Jill and Val. And the two circles don’t overlap; he and his bold personality are not their cup of tea.”
Understandable. He’s not really mine either.
“Do Jill and Kristin know about Martin?”
“They know him but neither have a clue about the abuse.” She tilts her head and begins twirling a lock of hair around her finger. “You don’t tell people about that kind of stuff. Not even the best of friends.”
You keep your mouth shut. It’s an unspoken rule. Strange how it goes with the territory no matter who’s experiencing abuse. “Guess it makes no difference if you’re a six-year-old little boy or a grown woman.”
“People don’t understand the shame that goes along with abuse unless they’ve experienced it.”
“I agree with that statement one hundred percent.”
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