Part of me doesn’t want to let Lo out of my sight. I’m afraid she will run from me. The other part of me knows we both need time. I need her to know she’s free to come and go as she wishes. She needs to know she isn’t leaving one prison to enter another. I need to think on my own. Having space between us, I can think over her reactions.
When I climb into the ring or octagon for a fight, I study my opponent. Overcoming whatever shit Lorraine is doing as Heidi is my new opponent.
Heidi is hot as fuck, but she doesn’t hold a candle to Lorraine and the connection we share.
I don’t want another woman who is going to drive me mad. I want someone to cherish who can see beyond all the bad.
Everything in her world changed the day her family was murdered. All the people she is following are tied to districts and high-priority positions. Her reaction to my name is even more telling. I can’t help but wonder if her father stumbled upon something at work he shouldn’t have.
Sitting down on a bench in the gym’s locker room, I pull out my laptop. I start researching her father. Then it hits me. He once worked for my father. Hell, they came to a party my parents hosted once, years ago.
My stomach churns and my mind dances with more questions than answers. My father is a ruthless man in business and in life. There is no doubt in my mind he would kill anyone who went against him.
The question is, what did Mr. Bosch do that wronged my father?
The more I dig, the less I seem to figure out.
Needing to take my aggression out on someone, I call Brock to meet me at the gym. It doesn’t take long before he arrives, and we get to work.
“You need a fight with Caldwell,” Brock goads me as we warm up.
That’s for sure. The bastard could meet me hit for hit.
“He’s done.”
“Shit, do you blame him? If you had a hot piece like mouse at home, you’d consider your risks a little more carefully, too.”
I smirk. “Damn straight I would.”
“Wanna tell me what’s up with the black Impala I had to drop off for you?”
“Nothing to tell.” I try to avoid the conversation.
“Bullshit, fucker.” He knows me too well.
“I don’t have enough answers right now.” Which is the truth.
I don’t have enough information to explain what is going on with me and Lo. I will, though. Mark my words, I will figure her out and figure us out. This is far from over. In fact, it’s just beginning.
Chapter 15
Lo
When he leaves, I take a deep breath and look around the condo. It’s large and very wide open. I take comfort in being able to overlook nearly every area from where I stand in the foyer. There are no curtains covering the wall of windows overlooking the city, so I don’t have the fear that someone is hiding behind them.
Curtains. Who in their right mind has to make the decision whether curtains could be a life or death choice when considering the décor of a home?
Someone like me.
Jason thinks he is dangerous and damaged.
I am, too. I am damaged and I am determined to be dangerous to those who killed my family.
I walk to the window and place my hand on the cool glass, still not heated from the afternoon sun. I look at the balcony where two plastic chairs and a large barbecue grill sit. I wonder why it’s so scarcely decorated. After all, there was a woman who lived here.
I would love to sit outside and read or sunbathe or listen to music. Heidi and I used to do those things. We were carefree, not a worry in the world. We were two lives, conceived together, born minutes apart, and nearly inseparable. We had a language of our own as children. No one but she and I knew what we were saying, not even our parents, for the most part.
It was always Hi and Lo, never Lo and Hi. She was the courageous one, the sassy one. Heidi was the one who could stand alone socially, the one who looked anyone she came in contact with in the eye and smiled.
I remember when she dyed her hair black so that maybe we could have more independence from one another. Shortly after that, she started dating Ryan and hanging out with some of his friends. I loved to watch her shine, and honestly, as upsetting as it was at first, I started to enjoy not being called Heidi.
I remember the night she and Ryan had their first lovers’ quarrel. She begged me to dye my hair with her. She even brought home the box of color. She said she’d hoped I would try like she was to stand out, and then she finally realized how silly it was. She said she missed us being just alike, and in the state she was in, I agreed to become the same.
For a week, it was Hi and Lo again. For a week, she avoided Ryan’s calls. She never would tell me exactly what happened between them. Then, out of the blue, they were back together again, and she was happy.
I got a job and ended up loving the independence. Having work friends, people outside of the tight little circle Hi and I kept, wasn’t as frightening as I had thought it would be.
And then, within weeks, she was gone forever.
Heidi, oh, how I miss her.
I press my face against the glass to soothe the burn preempted by tears. I will not let anything stop me from finding out who tore us apart, who killed the other half of my soul and the two people whose love made us.
I feel a strength burn from inside when I think of her. I borrow it to help me through difficult times and rely fully on it while I try to do the unthinkable. Lo would never try to find the killer. She would be too afraid to do it on her own.
The police found nothing that would connect my family’s murder to anyone: no enemies, no coworkers with a grudge, no clue as to who might do something so hideous, so heinous. None of our neighbors saw or heard anything suspicious. There were no fingerprints at the scene of the crime, but my mother’s jewelry box and purse were emptied. The case was deemed unsolved, and the only conclusion they came up with was that it was a home invasion.
I wrap my arms around myself and step back from the window. I close my eyes and shudder as the vivid memory of their deaths pops into my head like a glossy photo.
The thought of selling the house has always been terrifying. It was as Jason said. It’s like the Bates Motel, but lightning doesn’t strike in the same place twice. I take comfort in that thought.
In the time since Jason came into my life, I see hope in the freedom from my past. He says he’s a monster, but I have dark thoughts myself. I have a plan, and for my family I will follow through, consequences be damned. He has turned everything upside down. Even though our first sexual encounter was as Hi, he takes me as I am completely. He fights to keep Lo going, not letting me fall into my old habits. Rather than take me home and leave me, he brought me here.
I want to ask him about his past. I want to ask him about his ex, especially after seeing the damage to his room. She took everything from the kitchen as well. I hate to tell him that. I don’t know his financial situation. For as much as I don’t know about him, he still is a soothing balm to all of the open wounds to my heart and soul.
I see a chair in the corner of the room, liking the fact that there are two walls with nothing behind them. I walk past the wooden coffee table and stop when I see a Men’s Fitness magazine and a copy of Cosmo. I take the Cosmo and grab the black fur blanket off the back of the sectional leather sofa in the middle of the room and make my way to the chair. It doesn’t match the rest of the place’s white and black décor. It’s a dark blue.
I sit down in its oversized comfort. I pull my legs up under me and drape the soft blanket over myself. Then I rest my head on the side of the chair and open the magazine in hopes of getting outside of my head and living in this moment. It has been years since I have felt this restful.
I am a guest to a man I consider my true first; I am not worried what is hiding behind curtains or what I am allowing the curtains to hide me from; and I am wrapped in warmth high above the streets of Detroit in a tower that has guards and security. Although the tattooed, gorgeous m
an who has seen devastation and caused it himself is not here, I can smell him, and I feel the safety he promises surrounding me.
—
I feel fur against my face and hear soft purrs. His scent is stronger now, and so is the scent of…barbeque?
I open my eyes and see Boots’s big eyes looking into mine as Socks seems to be trying to hide under the blanket with me.
“Hello, my beauties,” I whisper, giving them my attention while looking around for Jason.
As I stand up and walk toward the window, I hear a song playing from the balcony. Its beat is hard and fast. Angry.
He is sitting in one of the chairs, shirtless. His tattoos are works of art and no doubt hold emotional connections. The cobra is what I assume he feels he needs to be: quick, fast, strong, and deadly.
It doesn’t scare me anymore than him being the son of that monster my innocent eyes saw beat him. I remember running to my father—my protector and the strongest man I ever knew—to get him to help the little boy who was kind enough to help me clean up my mess. My father followed me into the room where Jason was curled in a ball in the corner. His father looked up at us, his eyes filled with venom, and my father pulled me behind him, shielding me.
I don’t remember what was said that day, but I remember Jason looking at me emotionlessly. I remember smiling, or trying to smile, and then I remember him looking away. He stood up and walked quickly out the door, past us, and I didn’t see him for the rest of the night.
My heart bleeds for the little boy whose father didn’t protect him like my father did. I’m sure Jason’s father never looked in closets and under beds when Jason had a bad dream, because he would only come face-to-face with himself. He is a monster.
Jason leans back and runs his hands over his hair then throws his long, strong, and muscular legs up so his feet come to rest on the concrete wall that surrounds the balcony. He grabs a brown, long-neck bottle off the floor next to him and takes a drink. Then he wipes his lips with the back of his hand. He sets it down and clasps his hands behind his head and rubs them up and down his neck, rubbing into it as if he is working out the stress he carries there.
I slide the door open, and the low rumble of music I heard is now loud. He is still rubbing his neck when I walk up behind him. My fingers itch to rub away his worry. I reach out to do just that and immediately realize it’s a bad idea.
In one swift move, his hands grip my wrists, and I am effortlessly pulled over his shoulder and land on his lap.
I open my eyes wide as I stare into his, which are just as shocked. Then I can’t help laughing. He looks at me like I’m insane, and maybe I am. Then he smirks, giving me a glimpse of the dimple that is rarely visible.
I put my finger on it. “That’s a treat.”
His eyebrows shoot up. “Is that so?” He quickly moves his head and catches my finger between his teeth, winks, and then releases it.
“It is.” I smile, getting more comfortable on his lap.
“You better stop doing that. You’re technically poking the snake, angel.”
I wiggle my bottom again, and he immediately stands with one arm wrapped around me. His lips crash down on mine, and he moans. His tongue thrusts inside my wanton mouth and takes possession of it. His feast is short-lived, though. He abruptly pulls away and steps back, leaving me wanting more.
He looks me up and down, his eyes hooded and dark. Then he turns around and walks to the grill. “Sit down and relax.”
“I think I’ve done a lot of that today.”
He looks over his shoulder and nods. “You needed it.”
“So do you,” I say quietly as he flips two of the biggest steaks I have ever seen in my life.
He walks back toward me, grips my hips, moves me to the side, and grabs the beer before walking back to the grill and dousing the meat with it.
“I’m good,” he finally answers.
Yes, he is, whether he believes it or not.
Basketball shorts, muscles, and tattoos combine to make up the most beautiful sight. I tear my eyes off the vision and turn around, facing the city’s skyline. It’s beautiful, but not so stunning that I can get lost in it like I can him.
“You slept,” he states.
I turn back toward him and lean against the wall, nodding. “Total indulgence.”
I see him smirk as he closes the barbeque and turns around. “Fifteen minutes more to feast. Another indulgence.”
“You’re spoiling me, Jason.”
“Feeding you and letting you crash here is spoiling you?”
I shrug and turn back around to look over the city.
I hear him walk toward me. I feel the heat of his nearness, and a chill runs up my spine.
“It feels good to be free, doesn’t it?”
I turn around and am eye level to his chest. I want to tell him I feel far from free. I feel consumed, protected, bonded, and owned.
I lick my lips and lean in. I want to be closer to him. I want to feel his skin touching mine. I want to taste his skin.
He cups my face and lifts it so I am looking in his eyes. “I need a shower. You need to eat something.” Then he steps away, and I feel insecure, stupid…“Then I’m gonna fuck you, angel.”
…desired, impatient…dirty.
I wait until I see him disappear into the bathroom. Then I walk inside and close the door behind me quietly. I sneak up to the bathroom door and wait until I hear the water running. I look down when I feel Boots tangle between my feet.
“Not now, buddy,” I whisper and step around him.
My heart is pounding. I need to be brave. I think of Heidi and consider pretending just for a moment that I am her. However, I don’t want her to linger between us, to be in my head. I don’t want to feel like I did at The Lion’s Den. I want him. I want me. I want the feeling of his strong body next to me, his skin touching mine, his mouth against mine, his hands on me.
Me.
Just me.
I walk into the bathroom and take a deep breath before pulling his T-shirt off my body and shoving his shorts off. I step toward the shower, but then stop, remembering what happened on the balcony.
I stare at his shoulders and take in the strength in them. Then I allow my eyes to travel down his strong back and watch his muscles work as he rubs his hands through his hair. His waist tapers in a—dear God, his muscular ass is beautiful.
I want him.
I take a deep breath and knock on the tile. He looks over his shoulder.
I open my mouth, planning to say something incredibly sexy, but nothing comes out.
His eyes narrow, his jaw flexes, and he runs his hand down his face, ridding it of the excess water. His eyes run from my toes slowly up my body, leaving goosebumps in their wake. When his eyes meet mine, he takes in a deep breath and licks his lips.
“You need my cock?”
“I need you,” I say with a tremble in my voice as I watch him grip his cock and stroke slowly up and down.
“You need my cock.” He groans.
I nod, watching him.
“Get in here.”
I do.
“Foot on the stone bench.” His voice is thick with desire and demanding.
I obey.
“Show me how you touch yourself.”
I look at him, not moving.
“Now.”
I slide my hand between my legs and rub my fingers between my sensitive lips.
“That’s it, angel,” he hisses, and I continue. “I want your finger in your pussy. Spread your legs wider.”
I do.
“How does it feel, angel?” His hand pumps his cock.
“I want you,” I whisper.
“Say it louder.”
“I want you,” I repeat more loudly.
He releases his cock, grips my hips, lifts me up, lines his wide head up against my pussy, pushing me against the tiled wall, and without warning, he slams into me fully.
“You can’t come in here like that,” he hisses
. “I can’t control myself.” He pulls out and slams back in. He groans against my neck as he swivels his hips, stretching me.
“Then don’t,” I pant.
He slams in and then out. “I can’t go easy.” He pulls out then slams in again. “I won’t go easy.” He does it again. “Get there.” Out and in. “Now, dammit.”
“Oh, God,” I cry as his pace increases and his thrusts become more powerful. My body explodes in a surge of pleasurable waves as he pulls out and comes on my inner thigh.
—
When I walk out of his bedroom, he is putting broccoli on a plate.
He glances up. “Didn’t you see the bag?” he asks, referring to the bag of my clothes he brought over.
“Yes,” I say, walking toward him wearing a different pair of his boxers and another of his T-shirts.
“Nothing you like?”
“I wanted to wear yours.”
He stops cutting up the steak, looks over at me, and nods.
A few minutes later, we sit across from each other, our eyes connected as we eat. He devours his steak while I pick at mine. I’m not hungry for food. I’m hungry for him.
“Not good?” he asks before taking another bite of his steak.
“It is.”
“Not hungry?” he asks after wiping his mouth.
“Starving,” I answer, looking away. “I’ve been starving for years.”
“Then eat, angel.”
I look up at him. “Not for food.”
His jaw clenches, his eyes narrow, and his nostrils flare. “Two more bites…please, Lo.”
He eats fast, and I do as he asks. He then gets up quickly, walks behind me, and pulls out my chair. I stand up, and he turns me toward him and lifts me.
“I’m gonna feed you my cock all night long.”
He walks quickly toward the couch, but as soon as my ass hits the leather, someone knocks on the door.
He grabs the blanket and hands it to me. “Cover up.”
I watch him open the door without looking through the peephole. “Perfect timing.” He holds the door open wide, and two men walk in carrying a mattress. “Right in there.”
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