by Zoey Parker
He watched eagerly as I downed it, which only made me about half as uncomfortable as it should have. What little discomfort I did feel, I shoved aside. I don’t know if he called for another drink or not, but it seemed like a new drink appeared before me almost instantly. By this time, I was pretty hazy and I wasn’t really interested in having any more, but it was there and my hand was already around it before I could even think about what I was doing.
When yet another drink appeared, I shook my head. “I think I’ve had enough,” I told my new suitor, thinking that something felt off. Maybe it was just my stomach that wasn’t feeling great right now.
I thought I saw a flicker of a frown on his perfectly sculpted and painted face, but it was there and gone so quickly that I thought maybe I’d just imagined the whole thing.
“Sure, no worries,” he said in answer to me. There was a pause where I felt like the whole room was swaying. “You okay? Maybe you should go outside, get some fresh air?”
I nodded. That was the best idea anyone had ever had in the whole history of the universe. I managed to get to my feet, though I swayed unsteadily as I did so. I thought I told him something to the effect of “I’ll be right back,” but I couldn’t be sure. I was so unsteady that I wasn’t positive what I had actually said out loud and what was in my head, but the guy must have been okay with my leaving because I stumbled through the pulsing crowd alone, staggering toward the back door.
Probably, I should have waited for Kade so that I wasn’t alone, but I didn’t want to be around anyone right then. I just needed some air and some space. I needed a moment where I could just breathe. And possibly puke.
Ew, I don’t want him to see that, I thought as I reached the door and shoved it open.
The cool night air hit me like ice cubes in the middle of summer. It felt so good that for a moment, I thought maybe I was sober again. Of course, I wasn’t. I was still so drunk that I was swaying and dizzy and in no way likely to be getting much farther than the door on my own.
Using one hand on the wall to steady myself, I took a few steps into the alley and just sucked in huge lungfuls of fresh air. Thankfully it didn’t smell like rotting garbage or urine, so I didn’t have to suppress the urge to gag.
Because if I started puking, it was all coming up tonight.
As I let the cool air calm me down and settle my uncertain stomach, I didn’t notice the door creaking open or the sudden burst of music, nor the way it died out a second later to be followed by the slamming of that same door. I didn’t hear the footsteps behind me or the dangerous purr in his voice as he asked, “Hey, baby, you okay?”
I swirled around to face the man who had joined me outside, my body seeming to move in slow motion even as I tried to urge it faster.
The man was Mr. Pretty Boy from the bar.
He was leaning against the wall casually, but looked sort of predatory, like a cat with a swishing tail just waiting to strike. His eyes almost seemed reflective like a cat’s, too, his whole body suddenly long and sleek and maybe a little more powerful than I had initially given him credit for.
I took an involuntary step back.
“What’re you…” My words slurred and I wasn’t quite sure what I was going to ask him. What are you doing here? Maybe.
He smiled at me and suddenly it didn’t look sweet or charming or boyishly stupid or anything of the sort. Instead, I was left with an impression of danger that must have been purely instinctual. I had the urge to run, but didn’t think I’d get very far.
Stop being such a pansy! I ordered myself. Hadn’t this all been about proving that I could take care of myself?
I decided quickly that if I could get to the door and go back inside, I would be fine. A trickle of fear snaked down my spine, but I shoved it aside. I reminded myself that Kade was inside. He would protect me. All I had to do was get to the door.
Forcing a weak smile onto my lips, I managed to get out a sloppy, “Not feeling so good. I’m going to go back inside.”
The man nodded and stepped back from the wall, motioning with his arm that I was welcome to make my way to the door. I did so unsteadily, still using the wall for support, but did my best to appear like I didn’t need it. I doubt he bought it.
Just as it looked like I was going to reach the door without incident, he grabbed me. I let out a quick yell as his hand wrapped firmly around my upper arm and he shoved me. My back hit the brick wall of the building harshly, jarring me and making my vision swim again.
“Whoa, easy there,” Mr. Pretty Boy told me, grinning. “You look a little unsteady. Let me help you.”
The fear that had only been a trickle moments before turned into a flood. I shook my head, even though that made my vision swim. “N-no, I’m fine. Really. I just need—”
“Don’t you worry, baby. I know exactly what you need.”
And then he pressed himself closer to me. I realized what was happening and tried to pull away, but where could I go? I wasn’t strong enough to go through him, and thanks to the wall at my back, there was no stepping away either.
“Please,” I got out right before his hands started to wander.
I felt his right hand on my leg, snaking upward as it caught the hem of my dress. I slapped at his chest as panic began to rise within me, but he only laughed, then shushed me, telling me to relax. His hand dragged the hem of my dress upwards, revealing more and more of my upper thigh, which he delighted in touching.
“No,” I told him, trying to sound firm, but it was difficult because tears had begun to trickle down my cheeks.
“Shut up,” he snapped at me, his other hand going to my breasts.
I tried to jerk away from him, but he slapped a hand across my cheek. I let out a sob as his hand returned to my chest. He jerked the strap of my dress away, tearing it so that the halter fell down and revealed both of my bare breasts. I shivered against the exposure and the cold.
I tried to scream as he grabbed at me, the hand on my thigh going higher and moving inward. I felt him at the edge of my panties and let out a shrill sound that wasn’t quite a scream, but rather a cry of anguish.
This was it. No escape. No getting away. I was going to be—
I couldn’t complete the thought, but thankfully I didn’t have to. Before Mr. Pretty Boy—soon to be known only as Mr. Attempted Rapist—could slide his fingers beneath my panties, he was jerked back away from me.
I let out a sob as I slid down the wall to the ground, my arms folding across my chest to cover my exposed breasts.
Through bleary, beer-goggle vision, I could see a tall, dark, devastatingly handsome man manhandling Mr. Attempted Rapist. Kade, I thought, hope and relief both filling my chest until I thought it might explode. I watched as he threw a hard punch that landed squarely in the other guy’s face, hopefully ruining it forever. And it wasn’t just one punch either. It was a dozen, each angrier than the last.
Maybe he would have kept going for the rest of the night, except that I called out his name, “Kade.” He froze.
He turned to me, his eyes wild and full of panic, worry, anger. Every emotion seemed to flit across his face until he finally seemed torn between only two: relief and worry. He rushed to me, leaving the barely-breathing half-broken shell-of-a-man crumpled on the ground. He didn’t say anything as he scooped me up with the softest, gentlest arms I’d ever felt. Not a word as he let my head fall against his broad chest, my sobs soaking through the silky material of his borrowed shirt.
He didn’t go back inside. Instead, he carried me down the alley and around the side of the building. He felt warm against my suddenly chilled body. He had me tilted slightly into him so that my exposed body was covered, buried against his chest. And like the gentleman I couldn’t have imagined him to be, he didn’t look even once.
We reached the car not long after and he put me in the back seat, covering me with a jacket that smelled of leather and had a vaguely familiar emblem on it that might have been an angel. Then he was gone and I had only a quick m
oment to panic before he was back in the car, this time in the driver’s seat. We pulled out of there quickly and I had never felt so relieved the get out of a place before.
I was pretty out of it and maybe even in shock, but I thought I heard him speaking softly. Maybe calling someone. Caleb? I hoped not. If he called him, I’d never be allowed to go out ever again, like I was some fifteen-year-old girl.
Haven’t really proved you’re an adult, have you? I thought bitterly.
Tears stung at my eyes, and I pulled my knees to my chest, covering up as much of my body with the leather jacket. The one I now realized smelled not just of leather, but a little bit of grease and a lot of a smoky, woodsy scent that was vaguely familiar. It was strangely comforting.
I must have dozed off a little during the drive, because the next thing I remembered was being lifted once more into someone’s arms. It was Kade again and he was carrying me inside. I was home, thank god.
He left the jacket draped across me as he brought me inside, then settled me onto one of the large couches in the living room. As his arms slipped away from me, I suddenly felt panic rise again. The tears spilled with a fury, drowning me and blurring my vision until I felt like I was still completely drunk.
Not that I’d really reached sober yet.
Wildly, I reached for him, “Please!” I found myself begging desperately. “Don’t leave me!” Normally, I might hate myself for being weak. I might berate myself for being stupid and needy, but tonight I felt like it was justified. Like it was okay, because after everything that had happened, he was the only thing that made me feel like somehow I was still safe.
His eyes went to mine and through my tears I saw the intensity of his gaze, the worry and regret that lingered there. He knelt down in front of me, reaching out a large hand toward me to stroke back the hair that had to look a total mess. “It’s okay, you’re home now,” he told me softly, his voice gentle and soothing. It made me want to cry harder. “I’m not leaving you,” he promised, and something in my chest eased at least a little bit. “I’m just going to make coffee.”
I bit my lower lip. Coffee did sound absolutely amazing, but I didn’t like the idea of him not being right here with me. When he rose to go and do as he said, I reached for him again. “Wait,” I told him urgently. When he glanced back to look at me and likely tell me that everything was okay again, I said, “I want to come with you.”
He frowned a little at me, no doubt thinking I was a little mental. The kitchen actually connected to the living room. Tile turned into carpet quickly. I could see the counter and the coffee pot and the fridge from where I was sitting, yet I didn’t want to be so far from him. I finally regretted having such a large house.
After a moment, he nodded and helped me up.
The jacket fell from my body and belatedly I realized that my breasts were still exposed, my dress ripped and ruined for good. There was no way he had missed them this time, but he looked away quickly. Despite my current state, despite having all the power and being able to do what he would with me, he chose to give me what little privacy he could.
At least, I thought so until I saw him beginning to unbutton his shirt.
A fresh wave of panic washed through me and I began to shake my head as he slipped his shirt off of his sculpted, godlike body. I felt terror right until he threw his shirt about my shoulders and pulled it closed across my chest.
I blinked at him in surprise, my mouth opening, trying to say something, anything, but unable to find the words.
He offered me a strained smile. “C’mon, let’s make some coffee.”
Then he headed toward the kitchen, pausing on the edge of the carpet so I could follow after him. Tears welled in my eyes again at the courtesy, the gentleness, the unexpected everything. Carefully, I slipped my arms into his shirt and did several of the buttons so that I felt less exposed, less vulnerable.
“Thank you,” I whispered as I made my way over to him.
He didn’t say anything, only smiled. He went around making coffee. It took him longer than it would have me because he didn’t know where anything was, but I didn’t mind. I wasn’t in any condition to be doing anything and he seemed adamant about making it himself. It warmed my heart a little bit, so I let him.
When the coffee began to brew, he encouraged me back to the couch, then took a seat across from it in the same overstuffed chair he’d sat in earlier. We sat in silence for a while, the only sound the coffee brewing. I bit my lip. The scent of wood and grease and smoke surrounded me. I realized it was coming from the shirt, one I knew didn’t have that scent before I’d given it to Kade.
This is him, I thought, and a second later found that it comforted me better than anything.
He comforted me.
It made me want more of that comfort. I wanted to feel safe tonight, at home. I wanted to feel as though the big bad world wasn’t out there waiting for me around every dark corner.
Clutching the shirt at the front over my chest, even though the buttons were closed, I got up from the couch. Instantly, Kade’s eyes were on me. His thick dark eyebrows were pulled down in worry as he watched me. I approached him and a frown tugged at his lips. He parted them to say something, maybe to ask me what I was doing, but I had already reached him at this point. I straightened a single finger and placed it against his parted lips, feeling the heat of them and the mild humidity of his breath against my skin.
“Shh,” I whispered to him, not really positive of what I was doing until I was doing it, but knowing it was right all the same.
He looked conflicted, unsure as I slid into his lap, one leg going on either side of his hips so that I could straddle him—so that I could be closer to him. He looked ready to protest, his hands going to my hips, maybe to push me away and maybe to pull me closer. Undecided, they just rested there, pools of liquid heat spreading through my body through those two points of contact.
He swallowed as I removed my single finger from his lips, trailing it down, catching his full lower lip gently with my nail before letting it slip free. He sucked in a ragged breath as I leaned forward, my mussed hair falling about us like a curtain, shielding us from the rest of the dark, awful world.
Beneath me, he trembled. His body was tense, hard like rock with heated flesh coating it. I liked that he was shirtless. I liked that he was warm. I liked that he was looking at me with uncertainty and tenderness and worry. I liked that he smelled like comfort.
I was desperate for comfort.
Closing the space between us, I brought my mouth slowly closer, inch by inch, until I could feel the electricity jumping between our bodies. I hesitated a fraction of a second, long enough that he looked like he was going to stop me, then I pressed my mouth to his.
As soon as skin made contact, I was lost and his restraint died.
What I had meant to be gentle, to be sweet and comforting, turning into pure intensity. His mouth devoured mine, his tongue slipping between my parted lips to plunder the cavern of my mouth. His tongue swept through me, tasting, teasing, begging. I groaned into him, my hands gripping his shoulders, holding onto him as though for dear life. His hands, which had been silent, unmoving partners earlier, had come alive. They gripped me now like vises, clutching at my full hips, pulling me closer to him so that I could feel what was growing quickly beneath my center.
I moaned and whimpered, clinging to his heated frame, trying to keep a grip on something, anything. But I was lost, so lost.
My body melted under his touch. My chest heaved as I struggled to breathe without breaking a kiss, without missing a beat, without losing anything that I could have in this very precious, very intense moment.
Heat flashed through me and I wanted him, god I wanted him. Like nothing before, I needed this man beneath me, and as I pulled back ever so slightly, I could see that need reflected in his own dark eyes. My lips felt bruised and I was gasping for breath as I looked down at him, realizing my mistake.
I had kissed him for comfort
. I had crawled onto his lap searching for safety and softness, but I hadn’t found that. No, instead, I’d found a very specific kind of danger. There was intensity in him, a vibrating power that told me it was only this power that kept his need at bay. A need that was currently focused on me.
I had sensed that he wanted me—it wasn’t hard with those lingering, heated gazes and the words that dripped with sensual promises—but I hadn’t realized how much. I hadn’t realized that when I came over here to soothe my own worries and fears, I had awoken something primal within him.
And I didn’t think I could take it back now.
“Abby,” he breathed, my name sounding like both a prayer and a curse from his lips. I could hear the ache in his voice, the need, and part of me wanted more right then and there.
But I couldn’t.
As his hands lingered on my hips, I remembered the way that guy had pinned me to the wall. My mind flashed back with perfect accuracy to the way he’d held me so easily and then began to touch me. The way his hand had snaked up my thigh, exposing skin and branding it as his as he went. The way he’d ripped my dress—I sobbed—and exposed me to his awful gaze, his disgusting hands.