by Marie Force
“No one is thinking about that.” Hayden sounds as pained as the rest of us feel.
“Why not? I would be if I were you. I didn’t listen to you guys when you told me you had a bad feeling about him.”
Flynn clears his throat. “We didn’t think he was good enough for you.”
“Well, you were right, and I’m sorry I didn’t listen when you tried to tell me that.”
I can’t bear to hear her blaming herself for any of this. “You don’t have to apologize to anyone. It’s not your fault this happened.”
“He’s right, Mo.” Flynn puts an arm carefully around her shoulders and draws her into his embrace. “We didn’t like the guy, but we never thought he’d have the balls to fuck with someone who could ruin him in the industry.”
She tips her head to lean against his shoulder. “Thank you all for caring so much. It means a lot to me.”
“We love you,” Hayden says bluntly.
Her eyes fill with tears that gut me. God help that guy if he walked through the door right now. I’d have to be stopped from killing him myself, if for no other reason than he made the indomitable Marlowe Sloane cry.
A knock on the door takes me out of those unsettling thoughts. Murder is the last freaking thing I need to be contemplating. I left behind the desire to maim and kill when Hayden dragged me away from people who were trying to turn me into a ruthless killer. They hadn’t succeeded yet, but it would have only been a matter of time when Hayden intervened.
Hayden goes out to get the delivery, with Flynn and Kristian following him.
I glance at Marlowe. “Are you okay?”
“Yep. You?”
“I’m good.”
“I hate that I’ve put you all through this. I know how hard it is for everyone else when one of us is hurt.”
“It is hard because we love you, and we never want anything bad to happen to you.”
“I feel the same way about you guys, but we’ve all lived long enough to know it’s unrealistic to expect that nothing bad will ever happen.”
“I still like to hope for the best.” Hope was the only thing I had back in the darkest of days when I was trying to decide what kind of man I was going to be. I clung to tiny glimmers of hope like life rafts in a stormy sea, and they got me through the worst of times.
Hayden comes in carrying a box. “Let’s eat.”
I get plates and silverware, and we set up at my dining room table, which has never had so many people using it at one time. I like the way my family looks there. Only my parents and Aileen’s kids are missing. Maybe next time I can get them here, too, and then everyone I care about will be gathered in my home. Wouldn’t that be something? Perhaps I can volunteer to host the next holiday get-together.
We eat, we drink the margaritas that Marlowe loves (the virgin variety for Natalie and Ellie), and we laugh—a lot. Everyone makes an effort to keep things as normal as they can for her sake, but underneath the merriment, the tension is ever present.
A little after eight, when Marlowe begins to fight back yawns, Addie puts an arm around her. “Do you want to pack your stuff and come home with us?”
“I, um… Well…” She glances at me. “I think I’ll stay here. I’ve got everything I need, and Seb made a good point that no one would think to look for me here. If the piece of shit releases the photos, at least the media won’t be able to find me.”
“If he releases those photos, I’ll kill him with my bare hands,” Hayden says.
“No, you won’t,” Addie and Marlowe say in stereo and then share a smile.
“What’s your plan, Mo?” Flynn’s entire being radiates pent-up rage and the same thirst for vengeance we’re all feeling.
Marlowe gives herself a minute to collect her thoughts. “When I first started seeing Rafe, Teagan Daily reached out to me by text. She said she wanted to talk to me about him.”
“Didn’t she date him a couple of years ago?” Jasper asks.
“Yes.”
Addie absorbs this info with her usual intensity. “What did she have to say?”
Marlowe looks down at her hands, which are folded in her lap. “I never replied to that text or the one I got from Veronica Jones, who was also with him for a time about five years ago. I didn’t want to hear his exes talk shit about him. But now I think it’s probably time I got back to them.”
Natalie, who’s sitting on the other side of Marlowe, puts her hand over Marlowe’s in a silent show of support.
“Maybe if I’d replied to them or listened to you guys, none of this would’ve happened.”
“Don’t go there, Mo,” Ellie says gently. “You cared about him, and he hadn’t given you any reason not to.”
“There were signs. Here and there. I chose to ignore them, which is the part that pisses me off the most. It’s not like this was my first rodeo. I know better than to ignore the signs or to let a handsome, charming man convince me that the signs don’t matter.” She shakes her head. “I’m mad at myself more than anything.”
I can’t bear to hear her say that. “I think Marlowe’s probably had enough for today. She needs a good night’s rest.”
Thankfully, everyone takes my not-so-subtle invitation to leave. They quickly clean up the remnants of dinner, fill the dishwasher and stash the leftovers.
“There’s enough for dinner tomorrow night,” Aileen tells me.
“Thanks.”
She squeezes my arm. “If you guys need anything…”
I nod. “Will do.”
“You sure you don’t want to come with us?” Addie asks Marlowe again.
“I’m sure. Sebastian has made me very comfortable in his lovely home.”
Hayden gives me one of his famous looks, and I give it right back to him, daring him to say something that’ll give me no choice but to punch that smug grin off his face.
Fortunately, Addie gives him a shove toward the door, saving me the trouble of sore knuckles.
Ellie, Aileen, Kristian and Jasper give Marlowe careful hugs on their way out, leaving Emmett, Leah, Flynn and Nat.
Emmett hugs Marlowe. “If you change your mind about pressing charges, let me know.”
“Thanks, Em. I will.”
Leah, who’s teary-eyed again, embraces Marlowe gently. “I’ll call in the morning to see what you need.”
“Sounds good.”
“Call if you need anything,” Flynn says. “Day or night. I’ll be here as fast as I can.”
She leans in to hug him. “I will. I promise.”
I close the door behind him and Natalie and turn the dead bolt, which I don’t usually bother to do. I want Marlowe to feel safe here, and that lock makes a loud clicking noise that lets her know no one’s getting through that door unless we want them to.
“Thanks for calling it a night.” Marlowe curls up in a corner of the sofa and then winces.
“I could tell you were getting tired.” I sit next to her, careful not to jar her in any way. “What hurts?”
“My back.”
“Dr. Breslow prescribed antibiotic ointment to put on the cuts. You want me to do that?”
“In a bit, maybe.”
“How about another drink?”
“Maybe a glass of wine. I’ve had enough tequila.”
“Coming right up.”
Ellie brought a bottle of the chardonnay they all love. I open that and pour a healthy glass on top of a couple of ice cubes. I grab a beer for myself before returning to the living room.
“Here you go.”
“Thank you—for this and everything. You’ve let me completely overtake your home and your life.”
“My home is a lot homier with you here.” The words are out of my mouth before I take so much as a second to contemplate the deeper implications of saying such a thing to her. I’m not one to show my cards like that, and she knows it.
She raises a brow. “Is that right?”
“Yep.” Too late to turn back now. “I like having you here.”
Now would be a really good time to remind myself she thinks of me as a friend and nothing else. Nothing else. Maybe if I say that to myself enough times, my cock will get the message that his services are not needed here.
She sips from her wineglass, seeming a million miles away from me, lost in thought.
“You want to talk about it?” I wish I had the right to brush the strand of red hair back from her face, but I don’t have the right to touch her. Not that way. Not any way.
It takes everything I have to keep my hands to myself when all I want to do is touch her, hold her and assure her that I’ll always be here for her.
Chapter 8
I’m glad it’s just me and Seb now. I loved seeing the others, but they’re so distraught over what happened, and it upsets me to know I’m the cause of that. Seb is upset, too. I know he is, but he does a better job of keeping it hidden from me than the other guys did, and I appreciate that.
“You can tell me anything,” he says. “I hope you know that. It’ll never leave this room.”
“I do know that." After a pause, I speak somewhat hesitantly, not sure I should make this particular confession. “I was thinking earlier, when everyone was here, about how I got caught up in the outbreak of love going on all around us.”
“How so?”
I take another drink of wine, needing all the fortification for this confession that I can get, and place the glass on the table. “The first time Flynn ever brought Natalie to meet me… It was Golden Globe weekend last year, and they stopped by when he was showing her around LA. I could tell the first time I saw them together that he’d found his one, you know?”
“Yeah, they were pretty intense from the get-go.”
“I was so jealous, Seb.” I hate to admit that to even myself, let alone someone else.
“Did you… I mean, with Flynn…”
“No, no. We tried that once, and it was ridiculous. It wasn’t that I wanted him. I wanted them. I wanted what they had, that undeniable something you can’t put into words, but when you see it, you know it. And then it was Hayden and Addie, Jasper and Ellie, Kris and Aileen. Hell, even Leah has found her one with Em, and I’m eleven years older than her.”
“How’s that fair?”
“Right?” I love that he gets it. “Please don’t think for one second I’m not happy for all of them.”
He puts his big hand over mine, and my skin sizzles from the heat of him that warms the cold places inside me. “I know you are. They know you are.”
“I hope so.”
“They do.”
“When Rafe came along, I saw my chance. He was handsome and charming and romantic, whisking me away to his penthouse apartment in Paris for long weekends and to Provence for his best friend’s wedding. I got caught up in the fairy tale, and I’ve never been that girl. I became someone else with him, someone I don’t even recognize.”
“You wanted to make it work, Mo. People do crazy things when they’re in love.”
I snort with disdain. “I wasn’t in love with him.”
“No?”
Shaking my head, I turn my palm up and curl my fingers around his, wanting to keep him and the comfort that comes with him close. “I was in love with the idea of him, which was shattered when he punched me in the face. Actually, if I’m being truthful, it was shattered long before that, but I chose not to see it. That’s the part I’m having the hardest time with. I knew he was no good, and I stayed because I wanted the goddamned fairy tale.”
“You’re no different from anyone else. Hell, I’ve even felt that way a few times recently, seeing how happy everyone around me is and wondering what’s wrong with me that I’ve never come close to having what they do—or even wanting it.”
“There is nothing wrong with you.”
He grunts out a laugh. “Yeah, there is.”
“No, there isn’t. You’re the most faithful, loyal, giving friend any of us could ever hope to have, and hello? Do you own a mirror in this place?”
His brow furrows with confusion as he rubs a hand over his jaw. “Why? Did I miss a spot shaving?”
I bust up laughing when I realize he has no idea that I’m trying—and failing—to pay him a compliment. “No, silly. You’re ridiculously hot.”
He seems momentarily speechless. “You think so?”
I roll my eyes. “Everyone thinks so.”
I’m stunned to see a flush of color creep up his neck. Is Sebastian Lowe actually blushing? “Nuh-uh. Shut up.”
“I won’t shut up. I see the way women—and men—stare at you at the club.”
“They stare at me because they want another drink.”
“No, Seb, they stare at you because they want to take you—and your legendary cock—for a ride.”
“Marlowe!” He actually sputters. “Oh my God!”
I crack up laughing. I laugh so hard that my ribs hurt, but I can’t stop. While I’m hysterical with laughter, he just stares at me in disbelief.
And then I see that his legendary cock is hard and the laughter dies on my lips, replaced by something much more elemental.
I’m completely fucked up in the head if I can get beaten up by one guy and a couple of days later feel full-on desire for another, this time one who’s been a close friend for years. I won’t say that I’ve never thought of Sebastian that way, because I don’t usually lie to myself. Rafe was a notable exception. Of course I’ve thought about Sebastian that way. But I’ve never once thought to act on it out of respect for our friendship.
But now…
“Have you ever, you know, thought of me that way?” God, could I be any more awkward?
He stares at me, his dark eyes boring holes in me. “Marlowe.” His voice is barely a whisper as he says my name.
“Oh God, I’m sorry. I don’t know why I said that. I’m such a fucking mess. Ignore me.”
His hand cups the uninjured side of my face, his thumb stroking my cheek and setting off fireworks inside me. “Yeah, I’ve thought about you that way. I’ve thought about it a lot.”
I lick lips that’ve gone dry as unbuttered toast. “You… you have?”
He leans in super close to me, until his lips are a fraction of an inch from mine. “Yes.”
We stay like that, suspended in time and breathing the same air, for what feels like hours when I know it’s only a few seconds. His hand drops from my face, breaking the intense moment.
I want to beg him to come back.
“I can’t be your rebound, Marlowe, as much as I’d love to act on what I feel when I’m with you.”
Ignoring the rebound part of the equation for right now, I force myself to look at him. “What do you feel when you’re with me?”
“Things.”
“Care to elaborate?”
“Nope.” He taps his finger to my forehead. “You need to get yourself sorted and healed before you do anything else.”
I know he’s right, but sitting here next to him, discovering he feels “things” for me, I find that I’m as sorted as I’ve been in a long time.
Sebastian wants me. What else do I need to know?
“What’re you grinning like a loon about?” he asks, his tone gruff.
“You like me.”
He rolls his eyes. “This isn’t middle school, Mo.”
“Believe me, I know.”
“How about we put some of that medicine on your back and get you tucked in for the night?”
I’m oddly disappointed, even though I have no right to be. “Are you letting me down easy?”
His eyes flash with something dangerous and wild, and I feel like I’ve touched lightning or something equally powerful. “I’m putting you on ice.” He bounces his index finger off my nose. “For now. Talk to me on the other side of this crap with the piece of shit, and we’ll see what’s what. But until you give yourself some time to deal with what happened, you
shouldn’t be having this conversation with me or anyone else.”
Even though he’s right, I don’t appreciate being told what to do.
“Hey.”
“What?”
“Look at me.”
I force my gaze to meet his.
“If this hadn’t happened with him, I’d be all over it—and you—in a fucking heartbeat. I’d have you in my bed so fast, your gorgeous head would spin. This is not a rejection. It’s a time-out.”
As I look into eyes darker than midnight, I can see the fierce internal battle he’s fighting to do the right thing, to be my friend and not take advantage of my fragile emotional state. Except, I’m not feeling particularly fragile. I’m feeling something else, something I can’t put into words. Whatever it is, it’s powerful and determined and the absolute opposite of fragile.
“We should put some medicine on your back. Dr. Breslow said we need to stay on it to avoid infection.”
I don’t want anyone touching or even seeing the wounds on my back, but I can’t do it myself and he’s been nothing but gentle with me since he found me the other morning. “Okay.”
He stands and offers a hand to help me up.
I curl my fingers around his large hand and wince when my ribs and abdomen fight back against the movement. A memory of Rafe, out of control and enraged, raining blows down on my body, has me shuddering in revulsion.
“Easy.” Sebastian puts his arms around me and holds me until the trembling subsides.
“I’m okay.”
“No, you’re not, but you will be.” When I’m steadier, he leads me into the guest room. “Get comfortable.”
I stretch out on the bed, facedown, arms wrapped around a pillow. My entire body is tense in anticipation of pain. Flashes of memory bring back the excruciating lash of the whip, and the harsh words.
“Is this what you like to do to other people? How do you like it? Is this what gets you off, you sick fuck?”
The whip broke my skin, but his words broke something much deeper. In all my years as a practicing Domme, I’ve never once broken the skin of one of my subs. I’m not about injuring people. No, my kink is all about pleasure and satisfaction, especially that of my partner. But Rafe hadn’t given me a chance to explain. No, he’d taken one look at the dungeon and had lost his shit.