by Lisa N. Paul
But Cate didn’t understand. What kind of man acts that way and what kind of women condone such behavior? The ladies had seemed so … decent over the past hour. The conversation flowed smoothly and was even entertaining, but now they sat there and made excuses for their friend’s revolting behavior? This was exactly the reason she was better off spending time alone. She just didn’t understand people anymore…Anymore? What was she thinking? She never did. Sure, the only sex she ever engaged in was of the one-night-stand variety, but she would never treat her former lovers in such a disgusting way. Nor would she and Elliot laugh about their attempts to see her again. Okay, they may have giggled a little bit, but demean and disgrace? Never.
“Janie, you’re scaring MY new friends.” Lyla flicked her friend on the arm. “You know, the friends I had to make when you dumped me to spend half the night sucking face in back with your man?” They all giggled, but Cate noticed an apologetic look in Janie’s eyes just before Lyla reached over to kiss her friend on the cheek.
Lyla sighed, shaking her head. “Hey,” she said, re-engaging Cate and Elliot into the conversation, “that chick is just another pathetic little bar bunny who thought she would be the one who could finally tame Kyle Marx.”
Kyle. Marx. That name… Cate’s ribcage began to tighten around her lungs, cutting off oxygen and causing her to choke.
“Lift your arms, Catey.” Elliot tapped her lightly on the back. “Breathe slowly, you’re just fine.” As the air began to filter through her body, she snuck a peak at her best friend. Elliot didn’t seem at all fazed by the name that was dropped. She damn well knew the victim’s name from the night of the storm. Christ, Cate had talked about him endlessly for weeks afterward. She only stopped mentioning him when Elliot tried to make her to reach out and connect with the man who was proving to be unforgettable. Although the women no longer spoke of the accident or its victim, it didn’t mean he didn’t occupy her thoughts. Yeah, Elliot’s innocence wasn’t so damn cute right now.
“You okay there, sweets?” Ashley asked, handing Cate a glass of water. Nodding, Cate gulped down the cold liquid, trying to reconcile the sight that was unfolding just a few feet away. Is that really him?
“How do you know Kyle?” The tone of Lyla’s voice was soft, but her eyes were no longer playful. It was as if a gate had been erected and Lyla stood with the key pressed firmly in her palm.
The words refused to leave Cate’s mouth. Her tongue had grown too big and her mouth too dry. She couldn’t pull her eyes away from the agitated, drunken ass now degrading the scantily clad woman in front of him. She’d never expected to see the broken, beautiful man again…live and in person that is. She saw him often when she slept at night. Then again, that couldn’t be him. Her Kyle was sad but not angry; he was damaged but not deranged. He had desire in his eyes, not blank iciness. That’s not my Kyle. It can’t be.
“What do you mean ‘Your Kyle’?” Janie asked, confusion etched on her beautiful face. Bile churned in Cate’s belly when she realized she’d given her thoughts voice.
“What she meant was, we were the ones that found your buddy the night he wrecked his car.” Thank God for Elliot, because Cate was still without the ability to speak, lost in her own thoughts and fears. “Actually, it was pretty much all Catey. She stayed with him out in the rain. She held him and talked to him. She kept him conscious until the ambulance came. All I did was call 911. She’s the real hero.” Oookay, it was time for Elliot to shut her trap.
“Ells,” Cate warned, sipping some water to moisten her parched throat. “I did nothing special. Nothing anyone else wouldn’t have done. So let’s not make a big deal of it. Okay? I’ll have another drink, Ashley. Please.” She prayed that her friend was picking up her knock-it-the-fuck-off vibe. She didn’t want any recognition for helping Kyle that night. That’s the reason she didn’t follow the ambulance to the hospital. That’s the reason she begged the police not to release her name to the press and the same reason why she gave them her legal name and not her given name. However, when they did, in fact, release her name to the public, there was no association to her former life. She refused any interviews or statements and made no contact with the Marx’s. As much as she wanted Kyle to live, she hoped the story would die as soon as possible. Yet now, it seemed that no one around her sensed her desire to change the subject.
Four sets of eyes bore into her. Three pair were rounded with shock, and one was filled with innocent humor.
“You’re her?” Lyla whispered before turning to face Janie and Ashley. “She’s her! This is fucking her! Can you fucking believe it?”
“Umm, no,” Ashley admitted before grabbing five new shot glasses and filling them with vodka. She, Janie, and Lyla swigged back the liquid silently while Elliot and Cate just stared at the three of them. “Take the drinks, girls. You deserve them. Thank you for helping Kyle, you have no idea how much he means to us.”
Cate watched as a small smile played across Elliot’s face. It was in that moment Cate fully understood coming to Danny’s on Main had been no simple gesture made to “get out for some girls’ night fun,” as Elliot had put it just earlier that day.
“Goddamnit, Elliot!”
With an exaggerated shrug of her shoulders, Elliot leaned in close to let no one but Cate hear her words. “Don’t be upset with me. He’s been on your mind for months, and you’ve been too damn stubborn to do anything about it. I wasn’t certain he’d be here tonight. It was just a…hunch. Okay? Spend less time being pissy and more time keeping your promise to me.” Cate’s confusion must have played across her face, because Elliot swept Cate’s hair off her shoulder and quietly murmured, “You mentioned earlier that tonight was about letting loose and having fun. It’s been great hearing you laugh and seeing you smile. God, I can’t remember the last time you did both so freely.”
Love and tenderness swam through Elliot’s tear filled gaze. “Take notice, he’s right there, standing just feet away.” Elliot scrunched up her nose. “Yes, he may be a disgusting pig,” She giggled. “But you told me there was something about him…that you let your guard down and actually let him see you. That means something. Right?” Her best friend’s voice was filled with hope and excitement. Cate knew Elliot’s scam that led them to the bar was done out of love and loyalty. How did she tell her only friend that her efforts were wasted? Invisible was comfortable for Cate. It was how she lived her life. In order to continue breathing each and every day, she needed to stay just far enough out of the center to be around but never noticed. Never chosen, never thrust into the spotlight, and never a main attraction.
She had been all of that once, and that was enough to last a lifetime. Christ, once was enough to ruin a lifetime. The questions, the cameras, the public eye… Never again. Stop it. Stay here, Cate. In the now. She repeated the mantra she’d been saying to herself for years until the panic began to recede. Calmness took over as she stared at the gorgeous man by the bar.
He doesn’t even ask for their names, the women at the bar had said. He’s only out for one-night stands, they implored. As the conversation rolled around in her head, she admitted to herself that what those women saw as Kyle’s flaws were exactly what she deemed as perfect. She’d been drawn to him since the night she’d first laid eyes on him. There was a pull—as if he literally grabbed hold of her body and stoked a heat inside her that was impossible to explain. That fire came to life each night in her dreams. And it was a flame that she needed to touch.
Tossing back her shot, a plan formed in her head, and she knew if she didn’t act immediately, she may lose the nerve altogether. Peering directly into the questioning baby-blue eyes of her best friend, she said, “If you’ll excuse me, ladies, I have someone I’d like to officially meet.” Cate yanked her jacket from the iron coat rack that stood in the corner next to Lyla and swiped her purse off the hook that was fastened underneath the bar, heaving the bag over her shoulder. Her gaze caught Lyla’s, “Hopefully my sexual drought will end tonight as w
ell.” With a wink and a smile, she sauntered away from their cozy corner of the bar, caring not at all about the awed silence she’d left in her wake because her sights were set on the sexy wreck standing a few feet away.
She hadn’t made it more than a couple of steps when she heard, “Oh, um, Elliot—that’s a bad idea. Sweetie, you need to go and stop your friend. Kyle’s gonna destroy her.”
“Janie,” Elliot’s saccharine Texas twang, always more pronounced when in defense mode, piped up, “I’d be more worried about your friend than mine. Cheers”
A small smile lifted Cate’s mouth as her friend’s statement coated her body in confidence.
With the amount of alcohol flowing through her system, she had just enough courage to do what she had been dreaming about for over four months. It was time to see Kyle Marx up close and personal. Just as the thought crossed her mind, brilliant green irises locked on hers. Elliot was right; this night was full of surprises.
“What the hell?” The world around him quickly faded away, leaving him gripping the bar more from shock than for support. He knew there were loads of people around them talking, laughing, and drinking, but in that moment, all he saw was her. The angel. His angel. The woman that begged him to fight when giving up was his sole desire. The whiskey-eyed guardian who promised the world was better with him in it. Who made him want to believe those things. Yet in the weeks and months as his body healed, with the excruciating memories of the pain his past held and all of the wrongs he had inflicted upon so many, he found himself angry with life, with himself, and—at times—with her. This exquisite woman had become both his savior and his curse. She’d willed him to fight for a life that he was ready to forgo. And now he was trapped inside his poisonous mind, hating his mangled body, loathing his pitiful existence, and wanting someone that he’d never see again—more than anything he’d ever wanted before.
Yet here she was, stalking toward him and bringing to life a fantasy he never thought he’d live to see.
“Kyle, please. Just one more night. I know I can make you happy,” the already forgotten woman pled, trying desperately to regain his attention. She hadn’t been worthy of his time mere moments ago, but now, she didn’t exist at all.
She was here. In front of him. Her hair were flames of dark wildfire surrounding perfect ivory skin. Her tall body poured into black slacks that sat low on her flared hips and hugged her shapely thighs. His mouth went bone dry as his gaze traveled back up her torso over her trim waist and perfect breasts, all screaming to be noticed in the most modest of button down blouses he’d ever seen. Even in his inebriated state, it didn’t escape him that in front of him stood a woman fully clothed and more sensual, sexier, and more devastating to his libido than the woman to his right who was practically naked and begging to be fucked.
“Hello, Kyle,” she stated simply, slicking her tongue over her full bottom lip.
For months, he’d wondered if her voice was truly that sexy or if it had been his mangled mind warped with booze and pain from the accident that played tricks on him. Now he had his confirmation, because hearing the way his name fell from her lips was absolutely the sexiest fucking thing he’d ever heard. His dick stirred in his jeans as his pulse kicked up, pushing his blood through his veins.
He felt her golden eyes run the length of his body from foot to head, like a caress, stopping momentarily at the new scar that bisected his left eyebrow and inched slightly down the side of his temple. The heat that flooded his body went cool as the familiar sense of shame and disgust filled his head and weighed on his gut as he stilled under her thorough gaze. The urge to flinch at what she must be thinking was strong, but he refused to show any weakness. He knew how the scar looked—ugly as fuck. But just like the rest of his marks, it mapped who he was and it was permanent. As his father would say each time he left a new scar on Kyle’s skin, now the outside can match the inside, you useless fucking bastard.
Trapped in his thoughts with anxiety spiking though his tense body, it was the auburn-haired angel that once again pulled him to safety, this time without any physical contact at all. Because as their eyes met, he saw nothing that he expected. There was no disgust, no pity, and no sadness, nothing at all negative in the tall, lithe woman’s eyes. In her gaze, he found nothing but desire. This woman had visited him each night as he slept, guarding and guiding him through the darkness in his soul. Yet, after seeing him at his worst—where he prayed for death and cried for peace—she still stared at him with hunger. Even through his inebriated eyes, he could see her lust was different than the countless other women he had had in his life. Her goal was not just to please him, but to seek pleasure for herself. Oh yeah, this is gonna happen. I am gonna rock her world and have her begging for more.
“Not if I have you begging first, Kyle.” Her body leaned close enough that the warmth of her soft whispers sent shivers from his ear to his toes, hardening everything in between. She nipped the lobe of his ear then laved it with her soft tongue. Pain and pleasure, Kyle thought as his mind reeled with possibilities.
In all of those months and all of his dreams, never once did he imagine that the angel that saved him, the angel that guarded him, his divine angel …had horns. As if the alcohol had been flushed from his body, he felt sturdier than he’d felt in ages. Running the pad of his index finger down the soft skin of her jaw, he lifted her chin and looked directly into her whisky eyes. “You wanna get out of here, angel? Give me a few minutes and I’ll make you feel amazing.”
“Oh, Kyle,” her soft, dry laugh caught his attention. “Let’s be honest. You’ll make me feel dirty as hell. But lucky for you, that’s what I’m searching for tonight.” Her brow arched seductively, “Lead the way, and I’ll follow.”
Maybe he’d fallen asleep in the alley before his shift tonight, because there was no fucking way this was really happening to him. No way. When her cool, soft fingers laced through his, he led her out the door of Danny’s. This was no dream, his mind shouted, this was actually happening.
The Rules
HIS HAND WAS large, his skin rough but warm, as it engulfed hers. His touch was hesitant at first as if he wasn’t certain if her offer was real, but she meant every single word. She wanted this, him, for one night. She needed to know what it felt like to be wrapped in the arms of her dream, a dream that didn’t wake her in cold sweat, crying out in fear, but instead kept her wanting and needing.
For as difficult as social environments made her, Cate had no problems one-on-one. Much to her surprise, as she entered her late teens and early twenties, her sensuality heightened as did her desire to let loose when she needed to feel… something…anything. It was then that she took her safety into her own hands. When she allowed her body moments of pleasure, her mind was on its highest alert.
Cate kept a can of mace in her oversized purse right next to the loaded .380mm. and she was a perfect shot. In college, when the other kids were at football games or parties, she was firing guns and perfecting her aim. Even at thirty-one years old, she still went once a week to the firing range to practice shooting with all of her guns, just to make certain they were in perfect working order if the need to use them should ever arise. In the event metal and chemicals weren’t at her disposal, she kept herself in incredible physical condition. Her muscular body and lithe form were not from hours on the treadmill or using the stability ball. No, it was from years spent training in multiple forms of mixed martial arts and Zen Buddhism. She could defend herself. Each day, she re-committed to the promise she’d made to herself at eight years old. I’ll never be helpless again. Ever.
The cold air stole her breath as they walked quietly through the parking lot and made a right at the corner of Main. Were they walking back to his place because he was too drunk to drive? Did he live close enough to warrant not driving in the first place? She wanted to ask the questions, but the silence between them felt comfortable. So instead she slid her hand from his to pull the zipper up to her neck.
“It’s
fucking cold as a witch’s tit out here.” It didn’t matter that the words were crude. The smooth, deep tone of Kyle’s voice in the quiet night warmed her up faster than any coat could. “Seriously, sorry about the walk…but my place is just over here.” His statement was simple, but she could tell there was more to it than what he was saying. After all, the man was limping with each step. No way would he have chosen to walk even a short distance if it caused him pain.
She wondered if his injury was caused in the accident or if he had it previously. Maybe she’d ask. Wait, what are you doing? This is one night—mind numbing sex and moving on, she chastised herself. Don’t worry about his leg. Worry about whether or not he can make you come.
“It’s fine, Kyle,” she purred, “as long you can warm me up when we make it inside, all will be forgiven.” Immediately, their stride halted. Jarred by the sudden stop, she turned to see the insanely sexy, green eyes boring into her. Standing at maybe six feet and three inches, Kyle Marx was male perfection. A lopsided grin slowly spread across his lips, giving Cate her first sighting of the deep dimple that rested in Kyle’s left cheek. She noticed his chest rose and fell quicker as his stride grew longer and his pace twice as quick. The man was on a mission and she wanted nothing more than to assist him.
They reached the door to his apartment, a first floor place in what appeared to be a lovely Brownstone. He unlocked the door, opening it up but not stepping in.