by Roni Loren
“Man, that’s kind of fucked up. She was a grown woman, and no offense, but you were a pretty screwed-up kid back then. She shouldn’t have messed with you.”
He shrugged. “Fucking a beautiful older woman was the least of my potentially psychologically damaging experiences back then. And hell, if I was with her, at least I didn’t have to go home to sleep.”
Foster sighed and leaned back against the couch, Pike’s warning echoing his own worries. “For the record, you’re not telling me something I’m not already worried about. I know I’m a novelty to Cela right now, and that on some level, I represent all the bad in her good-girl world. But it feels like more, Pike. When we’re together, there’s this sense of . . . rightness. Like she’s supposed to be mine. And she chose to stay here. But, don’t worry, I’m keeping myself in check about it.”
“Sure you are.” Pike shook his head, but there was a smile there. “You’re so fucked, my friend.”
Monty barked, as if seconding that remark.
“No, I’m serious. I’m not letting myself get too deep yet. I’m just seeing how it goes.”
“Uh-huh,” Pike said, obviously unconvinced. “Just be careful.”
There was a loud knock at the door and a shout of, “Delivery!”
Pike glanced toward the sound as Monty scrambled toward it in full guard-dog mode. “What’s that about?”
Foster pushed off the couch. “You don’t want to know.”
But Pike was already hopping up from his chair and beating Foster to the door. He swung it open. The guy on the other side handed Pike a clipboard. “Delivery for Ian Foster. We wanted to make sure you were home before we brought it up.”
Pike looked down at the paperwork, obviously scanning it to see what was being delivered. He turned to Foster with his jaw slack. “Tell me you didn’t.”
“Shut up.” He grabbed the clipboard from him and signed.
Pike laughed and put a hand on his shoulder. “So. Fucked.”
TWENTY-FIVE
I walked up the stairs to my apartment Tuesday afternoon with butterflies the size of mutant bats in my belly. Foster had emailed me informing me that we’d be going out tonight, and that he’d left instructions for me in an envelope he’d slipped under my door.
When I unlocked my door and saw the innocuous white rectangle lying atop the rug I’d knelt on the last time I’d seen him, a frizzle of anxiety went through me. I picked it up and brought it into the kitchen to set down the rest of my stuff. But that was about all I could manage before tearing it open. Inside were a note and a key.
I unfolded the letter.
Cela,
Thank you for emailing me your hard and soft limits. Tonight you will accompany me to dinner to further work out the details of our arrangement. I’ve selected what I’d like you to wear. It’s hanging in the entryway closet in my apartment. Use this key to retrieve it. Only wear what I’ve provided. Nothing else. Wear your hair down.
Do not drink any alcohol beforehand. I need you clearheaded and totally focused tonight.
I will pick you up at seven. Be ready.
—F
My breath whooshed out of me, the curt instructions waking something inside me. And so it would begin. Deep end of the pool, here I come.
—
After a long shower, a detailed grooming session, and a blowout, I slipped into the strapless dark magenta dress Foster had picked out for me. The luxurious material slid over my bare skin like a soft caress, inspiring images of Foster’s fingers gliding over me. Warmth gathered between my thighs. Hell, if I was already getting worked up, it was going to be a long dinner. I’d managed to obey his instructions not to get off, but reading through all the information over the weekend, and even talking about some of it with Bailey, had wound me tight enough to feel constantly on edge.
I took a calming breath and reached for the panties he’d included—a little triangle of satin that barely covered anything. I was surprised he’d even given them to me. I figured any guy, given the chance, would have a girl wear nothing at all beneath her dress. But after I slipped them on and headed to the other side of my bedroom to get the black belt and heels he’d provided, I realized exactly why he’d chosen the panties. The fabric instantly molded to my freshly shaven skin and the wetness that seemed to be ever present since I’d gotten home, making me that much more aware of my arousal. I groaned and ventured a glance toward my bedside drawer, where my handy-dandy vibrator was stored.
But Foster was going to be here in a few minutes, and I’d held out this long, what was another few hours? Right? The argument didn’t do any good convincing my body. I sighed and slipped into the heels and fastened the belt around my waist. I took one final glance in the full-length mirror on my closet door.
Damn. The guy knew how to choose an outfit. There was no sign of the girl who spent most of her time wearing scrubs, a ponytail, and layer of cat hair. I looked . . . sexy. And elegant. I didn’t know much about brands, but I had a feeling what I was wearing didn’t come from the local mall. Once again, I found myself wondering why someone who could afford these kinds of things was living with a roommate in my complex.
I mean, my complex was nice. My dad had insisted on helping me pay for something in a good neighborhood so I didn’t have to live on campus and could feel safe. But it wasn’t some swanky high-rise or anything. Foster could clearly afford more.
The thought was like a burr in my foot, a constant niggling reminder that there was so much I didn’t know about the man I was entrusting myself to. A knock on my door pulled me from my worried reflection.
I took a steadying breath and made my way to the door. I had a feeling when Foster said be ready, that meant not making him wait even for a minute. I swung open the door, but instead of finding Foster on the other side, Gerald filled my doorway. Automatically, I reared up. “Gerald.”
“Hi, Cela,” he said with a tilted smile. “Uh, wow, you look really pretty.”
My stomach dipped. I’d made a point to avoid my formerly friendly neighbor since finding out about his background. After Foster had told me, I’d looked up the information for myself, and it’d made me ill to even think about all the times I’d been alone with Gerald. “What are you doing here?”
“Hey, uh, I’m sure your friend told you about my . . . past. And I’m sorry I didn’t say anything. It’s just—that was a much younger, much stupider version of myself. Mistakes I wish I could undo. And I liked hanging out with you—with someone who didn’t just see that creep from back then.”
I shifted in my heels and glanced over his shoulder at the empty hallway. “Gerald, I appreciate the apology, but I think it’s best we leave things as they are.”
“Is it because of your boyfriend?” he asked glumly.
I saw the out and took it. “Yes. He’s very . . . protective.”
“Right,” he said with a frown.
“Well, I understand. I only wanted to tell you that I was sorry and that I found a dog walker for Sammi. She’s doing well with her.”
I managed a small smile. “That’s good to hear.”
“Yeah, well, I guess I’ll be seeing you then.” After one last look, which strangely mimicked how Sammi had looked at me when I wouldn’t throw the ball again, he turned on his heel to head back toward the stairs. But before he made it all the way there, Foster’s door opened. Foster stepped out, looking like a GQ model in a sharp dark gray suit and a tie that coordinated with my dress.
Simultaneously, relief and fear rushed through me. Relief that I wasn’t alone with Gerald anymore, but also fear, because when Foster turned his head to the right to see Gerald’s retreating back, every bit of him bristled. I rushed over to Foster, heels clicking on the floor, to grab his arm before he launched himself forward. “Hey, hold up.”
His gaze snapped to me, e
yes fierce. “What the fuck is he doing up here? Is he bothering you?”
“It’s all right,” I said, thankful Gerald had already disappeared around the second set of stairs, and apparently hadn’t noticed Foster come out. “I took care of it.”
“Took care of what?”
I could feel the anger rumbling through him, my grip on his arm quivering with it. The intensity of it scared me a little. “He came by to apologize. I opened the door, thinking it was you. But I handled it. It’s fine.”
He closed his door behind him with unnecessary force and walked me over to my own, guiding me back into my apartment. When he shut my door, he turned to me with accusing eyes. “What were you thinking? You just opened your door? No chain?”
“I forgot.”
“You promised me, Cela,” he said, his jaw clenched as he looked back toward my closed door. “God, do you even realize how dangerous it is for a woman to be that careless?”
I gritted my teeth at his admonishing tone and his firm grip on my shoulder. “I said it was an accident. I was expecting you.”
“An accident?” That only seemed to heighten the furor in his eyes. “What if he had pushed his way in here, huh? He could have attacked you without anyone seeing a damn thing. Locked both of you in here together.”
“Back off, okay?” I said as I slipped from beneath his hand. “It wasn’t anything. I’m fine. If he wanted to attack me, he could have done it during one of the countless times I was alone with him.”
Foster stared at me for a long moment, then swiped a hand through his hair, more agitated than I’d ever seen him. “You will never open your door without checking again.”
“Foster.”
“Swear to me, Cela. And mean it this time.”
I shook my head, confused by the desperate edge in his voice. “Why are you making such a big deal out of this?”
“Because you don’t even know how fucking vulnerable you make yourself sometimes,” he said, his volume rising. “One second. That’s all it takes. Yesterday, when I got home from my trip, I saw you running in the goddamned dark with your iPod cranked up. A guy on the corner was catcalling you and took a photo with his phone, and you didn’t even notice.”
“What?”
“That phone is no longer in working order, believe me. But it took everything I had not to haul you right off the street.”
I shuddered at the thought of someone photographing me. “I’m usually more aware than that.”
“No. You’re not. You know how many times I’ve seen you walking through the parking lot at night with your phone to your ear or your earbuds in? You have no awareness of your surroundings.”
I stared at him. “You’ve watched me in the parking lot? What the hell?”
“See, you don’t even realize that for the last few months, we get home around the same time each day. I could be two steps behind you, and you wouldn’t notice. I could grab you, and you wouldn’t even have time to scream.”
I wrapped my arms around myself, not sure how to handle this version of him. “You’re freaking me out, Foster.”
“Good,” he said, stepping close. “I need you to be scared enough to start looking out for yourself.”
“Now hold up,” I said, his tone pushing all my go-to-hell buttons. “I’m not a child, so don’t talk to me like I’m one. I’ve managed just fine without some guy telling me what to do for a long time now. You’re not my dad.”
He crowded into my space, energy rolling off him. “No, I’m not. But I am in charge until you tell me otherwise. And I’m ordering you to stop being so careless. Going forward, if I catch you disregarding your safety, I will make sure you never forget that rule again.”
I put my hands against his chest to stop him from coming closer, unable to think straight when he was so near. “You’re being a jerk.”
“I’m trying to protect you.”
“I don’t need your protection, all right? I can watch out for myself.”
“Cela,” he said, his tone dangerously low.
“No. I agreed to try this with you because you taking charge with sex is exciting. I like that. But I didn’t freaking agree to be talked to like I’m some dumb kid who shouldn’t play outside alone.”
His frown deepened, his gaze pinning me. “Then maybe I wasn’t clear. I take this seriously, Cela. If you’re going to be with me, that means you’re my responsibility. To pleasure, to push you to your edge, sure, but also to keep you safe, to take care of you.”
Tears of frustration burned in my throat, and my fists clenched against his shirt. “Goddammit, Foster, don’t mess this up already. I don’t need a caretaker. I’ve got enough people in my life trying to do that. I only want to be with you. Can’t we just do that? Be together?”
He sighed, putting his hands over my fists. “I can be flexible with a lot. But not this.”
“You’re being unreasonable.”
“Well, how about we both get one unreasonable thing each? My protectiveness can be mine.”
His hands were warm around mine, and his gaze had softened. I huffed, annoyed that the one simple look could dim my ire. “I don’t have anything to be unreasonable about.”
His mouth lifted at the side, his head tilting. “Oh, so your jealousy of women I was with before I even knew you is totally rational?”
I sniffed. “Totally.”
“Uh-huh,” he said grinning fully as he released my fists and wrapped his arms around me.
My body surrendered to his embrace even though I was still stewing on the inside. “I’m not going to live my life scared.”
“I’m not asking you to. I only need you to be more aware.” His thumb was stroking my tailbone now, and I hated that I didn’t want to move out of his hold. “I’ve seen a lot of ugly stories with bad outcomes in my life, angel.”
“Your sister,” I said quietly.
“Not just her.”
I frowned. “What do you mean?”
He pulled back from the embrace and looked down at me, strain still there around the corners of his eyes and the set of his mouth. “Not tonight, okay? I don’t want anything else to taint our evening. But I promise, I’ll show you what I mean. Tomorrow, okay?”
“Okay,” I said, nodding, not knowing what else to say. He gave me another squeeze, and we stayed like that for a few long seconds. When he released me, he seemed to have pulled himself back into the calm, unruffled man I knew. He ran a palm over my hair.
“Now, why don’t we start over?” His gaze traced over me. “Beginning with how outrageously sexy you look in this dress. My God.”
I should’ve smiled, thanked him for the compliment, but after the surprise of his intense protectiveness, all my insecurities about what I didn’t know about him flooded into my system. Yes, he’d told me about his sister, but what else lurked in the depths of his past? And how far did this protective streak go? Was I going to have to report in like I used to do with my parents? The thought made my stomach tilt. Maybe I didn’t really know Foster at all. I knew casual, neighbor Foster, but not dominant, boyfriend Foster.
And I was giving myself to him.
Doubt crawled up my spine and rooted there at the back of my brain.
Maybe my brother had been right.
Maybe this was a mistake.
Maybe I’d jumped into all of this too soon.
I turned away and grabbed my purse, a faint tremor going through my fingers. “I really appreciate the dress. You didn’t have to do that.”
The words sounded hollow in my ears.
“My pleasure, angel.” He took my hand when I came back to his side, though his gaze was scrutinizing, like he could see the thoughts filling my head. “Ready?”
I nodded.
But for the first time since meeting hi
m, I wasn’t so sure.
TWENTY-SIX
The restaurant was buzzing, but Foster had secured one of the quieter booths in the back. Lot of good it was doing though, since Cela seemed to be in a particularly tight-lipped mood. He opened his mouth to ask her another question, trying to draw her out, but another voice interrupted.
“Well, look who it is. Glad to see you could finally make it,” Kade Vandergriff said stopping by Foster and Cela’s table. “Everything tasting okay?”
Foster smiled and stood to shake his friend’s hand. Kade owned the restaurant and had invited him to attend his monthly invitation-only night more times than Foster could count, but he’d never been able to make it. “The meal has been excellent so far—each course outdoing the next. Thanks for the invite.”
Kade glanced over at Cela with a warm expression. “And who is your lovely date?”
“This is Cela Medina. Cela, my friend Kade Vandergriff. He owns the place.”
Cela smiled and lifted her hand, as if preparing for a shake, but Kade simply nodded at her, following rules Cela didn’t even realize were in place. “Lovely to meet you.”
“Same here,” she said, placing her hands back in her lap. “And the food’s been great. That avocado appetizer was one of the best things I’ve ever put in my mouth.”
There was silence for a moment, then Kade chuckled, and Foster coughed over his own laugh.
She cringed instantly. “Sorry. That’s not exactly what I meant to say.”
Kade grinned. “Sorry, we look like men, but up here”—he pointed to his temple—“pure twelve-year-old.”
She smirked back at the two of them, brown eyes picking up the twinkle of the candlelight on the table. It was the first spark Foster had seen in her since they’d arrived at dinner. She’d been maddeningly subdued up until then. “No worries. I’ve been around college boys for seven years. I don’t think I’m capable of being offended anymore.”