PRAISEFOR
NOTUNTILYOU
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PRAISEFORRONILORENANDHERNOVELS
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CRASHINTOYOU
MELTINTOYOU
FALLINTOYOU
CAUGHTUPINYOU
NEEDYOUTONIGHT
NOTUNTILYOU
Novellas
STILLINTOYOU
FOREVERSTARTSTONIGHTTHEBERKLEYPUBLISHINGGROUP
PublishedbythePenguinGroup
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APenguinRandomHouseCompany
NOTUNTILYOU
Copyright?2013byRoniLoren.
“SoIntoYou”byRoniLoren?2014byRoniLoren.
ExcerptfromNothingBetweenUsbyRoniLorencopyright?2014byRoniLoren.
Penguinsupportscopyright.Copyrightfuelscreativity,encouragesdiversevoices,
promotesfreespeech,andcreatesavibrantculture.Thankyouforbuyinganauthorized
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BERKLEY?isaregisteredtrademarkofPenguinGroup(USA)LLC.
The“B”designisatrademarkofPenguinGroup(USA)LLC.
eBookISBN:978-1-101-60755-8
LibraryofCongressCataloging-in-PublicationData
Loren,Roni.
Notuntilyou/RoniLoren.—Berkleytradepaperbackedition.
pages;cm.—(Alovingontheedgenovel;1)
ISBN978-0-425-27503-0(softcover)
1.Womencollegestudents—Fiction.I.Title.
PS3612.O764N682014
813′.6—dc23
2014026191
PUBLISHINGHISTORY
InterMixserialedition/June-July2013
Berkleytradepaperbackedition/November2014
Coverphotoof“Wroughtirondoor”?Photokin/Shutterstock.
CoverdesignbyDianaKolsky.
Thisisaworkoffiction.Names,characters,places,andincidentseitherarethe
productoftheauthor’simaginationorareusedfictitiously,andanyresemblance
toactualpersons,livingordead,businessestablishments,events,orlocalesis
entirelycoincidental.
Version_1FormyNaNa,Kelli.Youwould’vegottensuchakickoutofthiscrazycareerofmine.
Imissyoumorethanwordscansay.
CONTENTS
PRAISEFORRONILORENANDHERNOVELS
TITLESBYRONILOREN
TITLEPAGE
COPYRIGHT
DEDICATION
PARTI|NOTUNTILYOUDARE
CHAPTERONE
CHAPTERTWO
CHAPTERTHREE
CHAPTERFOUR
CHAPTERFIVE
PARTII|NOTUNTILYOURISK
CHAPTERSIX
CHAPTERSEVEN
CHAPTEREIGHT
CHAPTERNINE
CHAPTERTEN
PARTIII|NOTUNTILYOUCRAVE
CHAPTERELEVEN
CHAPTERTWELVE
CHAPTERTHIRTEEN
CHAPTERFOURTEEN
CHAPTERFIFTEEN
PARTIV|NOTUNTILYOUTRUST
CHAPTERSIXTEEN
CHAPTERSEVENTEEN
CHAPTEREIGHTEEN
CHAPTERNINETEEN
CHAPTERTWENTY
PARTV|NOTUNTILYOUBEG
CHAPTERTWENTY-ONE
CHAPTERTWENTY-TWO
CHAPTERTWENTY-THREE
CHAPTERTWENTY-FOUR
CHAPTERTWENTY-FIVE
CHAPTERTWENTY-SIX
PARTVI|NOTUNTILYOUSURRENDER
CHAPTERTWENTY-SEVEN
CHAPTERTWENTY-EIGHT
CHAPTERTWENTY-NINE
CHAPTERTHIRTY
CHAPTERTHIRTY-ONE
PARTVII|NOTUNTILYOUBELIEVE
CHAPTERTHIRTY-TWO
CHAPTERTHIRTY-THREE
CHAPTERTHIRTY-FOUR
CHAPTERTHIRTY-FIVE
CHAPTERTHIRTY-SIX
CHAPTERTHIRTY-SEVEN
PARTVIII|NOTUNTILYOULOVE
CHAPTERTHIRTY-EIGHT
CHAPTERTHIRTY-NINE
CHAPTERFORTY
CHAPTERFORTY-ONE
EPILOGUE
SNEAKPEEKATNOTHINGBETWEENUS
ABOUTTHEAUTHORPARTI
NOTUNTILYOUDARE
ONE
“Andre,thisisn’tagoodtime.CanIcallyouback?”
Ididmybestnottoletmycellphoneslipfrombetweenmyearandshoulder.Justdon’tdropthetequila.IadjustedtheenormousbottlethatmyfriendBaileyhadgivenmeasagraduation
presentfrommyrighthandtobeneathmyleftarmandtriedtodigmykeysoutof
mypursesoIcouldopenthemaindoortomyapartmentbuilding.
“I’msosorryIwasn’tabletomakeit,Cela,”myolderbrothersaid,hisguiltobviously
trumpingmyrequesttocallhimlater.“Igotcaughtataninvestigationsitethis
morning.IthoughtI’dbeabletogetthereintime,butwehadawitnesswanting
totalkand…”
Icursedsilentlyasmykeyshitthepavement.Icroucheddown,doingmybestnot
toflashmyunderweartoanyonewhomaybepassingby.“Really,it’sfine.Theycalled
myname.Iwalkedacrossthestageandgotapieceofpaperandasashforbeingsumma
cumlaude.Papáyelledmynamelikehewasatabaseballgameinsteadofaceremony.
Mamácried.WeallwenttolunchatRosario’sandthenthetwoofthemheadedback
totheairport.Notthatinteresting.”
Mybrother’sheavysighsaideverything.Ialmostfeltguiltythathefeltsoguilty.“Beforeyoumovebackhomenextmonth,we’regettingtogetherto
celebrate.Mybabysister,thedoctor.I’msoproudIcouldburst.”
Ismiled.Ididlikethesoundofthat.Dr.MarcelaMedina,DoctorofVeterinaryMedicine.
Sevenyearsofexamsandstudyingandclinics,butitwasfinallydone.Nowitwas
timetoleaveDallasandheadbackhometoVerdePassandtakeuptheslackinmy
dad’spractice.
Thatlastparthadmysmilefalteringabit.Ihookedmykeyringwithmyfingerand
wobbledbacktoastand.“That’ssoundsgreat.ButIreallyhavetogetgoing.Ihave
myhandsfullandneedtogetthroughthedoor.”
“Cela,youknowbetterthantocarrytoomuch.Parkinglotsatnightareoneofthe
mostdangerousplacesforwomen.Areyouholdingyourmace?”heasked,hisvoicegoing
intothatbossycoptoneIwasalltoofamiliarwith.
“It’sinmyhand,”Ilied,tryingtorememberwhereI’dstowedthelastlittlecanister
he’dgivenme—probablyinmyjunkdrawer.“ButIdon’thaveafreehandtopullthe
dooropen.”
“Allright,”hesaid,placated.“Congratulationsagain.Iloveyou.”
“Loveyou,too.”
ThecallendedbutIdidn’thaveawaytotakethephoneoffmyear,soIjustshuffled
forwardinasidewayshunch,tryingtojuggleeverythingIwasholdingtogetmykey
intothedoor.Aftertwoattempts,Igotthelockturnedandpressedmybackagainst
theglassdoortopushmywayintothelobby.
AssoonasI’dclearedtheentranceandturnedtowardthestairs,malevoicessounded
behindme.OfcoursesomeonewouldshowuprightafterIdidn’tneedhelpanymore.
Ipeekedbacktoseewhoitwas,Andre’sdangerwarningsstillechoinginmyhead,
butfoundsomethingmoredistractingthancriminals—myneighbors,FosterandPike.
Fostersteppedthroughthemaindoorfirstandglancedmyway.Asusual,everything
wentmeltyinsideme,hissmilelikeazapofheattomysystem.Ridiculous.“Need
somehelp,neighbor?”
Istraightened,butforgotaboutmyphoneintheprocess.MybrandnewiPhonewent
slidingoffmyshoulder.
“Crap!”Ilurchedforward,tryingtosaveitfromitsimminentdemise,andaccidentally
droppedmyplasticbagofChinesetakeoutontheway.
“Whoa,there.”Pike,Foster’sroommate,wasatmysideinasecond.Hishandcaught
myelbow,savingmefromlosingtheginormousbottleofliquoralongwithmybalance.
Butmyphoneclatteredtotheground,theharshsoundmixingwiththesplatofmynoodleshittingtile.
Iwinced,anticipatingabrokenscreen.“Dammit.”
Fosterbentdown,histiebrushingthegroundashesweptmyphoneoffthefloor.
Hepeeredatthescreen,darkbrowsloweringoverpaleeyes,thenheturnedthephone
towardme—thehappypuppyscreensaverstaringbackatmeintact.“Alliswell.Luckily,
thesethingsarebuilttotakealicking.”
Mybraingotsnaggedonthewordlick,andthebackofmyneckwenthot.Mylipsparted,butwordsfailedme.Great,imitateagapinggoldfish—that’scute.
Pikeclearedhisthroat,easingthetequilafrommyarms,andthencroucheddownnear
theopenbagatmyfeet.HegrabbedanoodlefromthespilledboxofChinesefood,
tippedhisheadback,anddroppedthenoodleintohismouth,hiseyeswatchingmine.
“Thelomein’saloss,though.”
Iswallowedhard,hisgazeevenmorebadboythanthetattoospeekingoutfromhis
opencollar.Histonguesnakedaroundthenoodle.Lookaway.Iforcedmyfaceupward,butthenendedupfocusingonFosteragain.Saysomething.God,Iwasstandingtherelikeanidiot.ThiswaswhyIalwaysavoidedthesetwo
liketheywerecontagious.Theymademegostupid.
Fosterheldoutmyphone,andImanagedtotakeit,theslightbrushofhisfingers
againstminehittingtheResetbuttoninmybrain.Imanagedafeeble,“Thankyou.”
Fosterglancedatthemessonthefloor.“I’mreallysorryIsaidanything.Ididn’t
meantodistractyoufromyourintricatejugglingact.”
Ishookmyhead.“No,it’smyfault.Ishouldn’thavebeentryingtocarryeverything
atonce.It’sbeenalongday,andIwashopingtosavemyselfasecondtripupthe
stairs.”
“Thejoysofawalk-up.”Pikegrabbedafewnapkinsandstartedcleaningupthenoodles
atmyfeetlikeitwashismesstoworryabout.
“Oh,youdon’thavetodothat.”Ilowereddowntomyknees.“I’lltakecareofit.”
Hegrinnedoveratme,themirroroppositeofhisroommate.IanFosterwasallsuits
anddarklooks—amanwhopreferredtobecalledbyhissurname.WhereasPikedidn’t
seemtoevenhavealastname.Hewasadrummerinsomepopularlocalband—jeans,
asex-on-the-mindsmile,andspiked,bleachedhairhisusualuniform.NotthatIhad
studiedeitherofthem.OrlistenedtotheirescapadesthroughthewallIsharedwith
them.Notatall.
Keeptellingyourselfthat,Cela.
Despitemyprotest,Pikehelpedmefinishpickingupthemess.“Sowhat’sthebig-ass
bottleoftequilafor?Noonecould’vehadthatbadofaday.”
IglancedoveratthebottleI’dsetonthefloor,debatingwhetherIcouldbetrusted
tohaveanormalconversationwiththesetwowithoutsoundinglikeIhadaspeech
impediment.“I,uh,graduatedtoday.Itwasagift.”
“Oh,righton.”
“Congratulations,Cela,”Fostersaid.Justthesoundofhimsayingmynameinthat
smooth,darkvoicehadmystomachclenching.HewasallSouthernrefinement,butI
didn’tmisstheglimmerofadrawlunderneathitall.
Aydiosmío.MybodyclamoredtoattentionlikeaneagerLabradorreadytobepetted.Down,girl.Theseguyswerewayabovemypaygrade.Iwasn’tdumbordelusional.I’dseen/spied
on/secretlyhatedthewomenwho’dpassedthroughtheirapartmentdoor—womenwholooked
likethey’dearnedtheirdoctoratesintheartofseduction.
Ihadn’tevenreachedthekindergartenlevelinthatparticulardepartment.
“Thankyou.”
“YouweregoingtovetschoolatDallasU,right?”Fosterhadtuckedhishandsin
thepocketsofhisslacks,andthoughthequestionwascasual,Ihadthedistinct
impressionhewastensebeneaththatsuitjacket.
Pikehandedmeanapkinformyhandsandstoodtotossthefoodintoanearbytrash
can.
Iwipedoffmyhandsandpushedmyselftomyfeet,tryingtodoitasgracefullyas
possibleinmyrestrictiveskirt.“Yes,how’dyouknowthat?”
“Thescrubsyouwearhavetheschoolinsigniaonthem,”Fostersaid,asifitwas
totallynormalthathe’dlookedatmethatclosely.
“Observant.”EspeciallyconsideringIusuallyonlymanagedahead-down,mumbled,hey-how-are-yaexchangewhenwepassedeachotherinthehallway.Secretlylisteningtooneofyour
hotneighborshavingsexhadawayofmakingeyecontactabituncomfortablethenext
day—particularlyifsaideavesdropperhadusedthesoundtracktofuelherowninterlude
withherbattery-operatedboyfriend.
NotthatIhad.Severaltimes.Whatever.
PikesidledupnexttoFoster—amotleypairifthereeverwasone.“So,doc,nowthat
you’vegotnodinnerandclearlytoomuchliquoronyourhands,whydon’tyoujoin
us?Wealreadyhavepizzaontheway,andwecanplayadrinkinggamewiththetequila.
DocollegekidsstillplayNeverHaveIEver?Iwasalwaysgoodatthatone.”
Kid?Isthatwhattheysawmeas?NeitherofthemcouldbethatmucholderthanIwas.Thoughintermsoflifeexperience,Ihadnodoubttheytrumped
meafewtimesover.
“Oh,no,that’sokay.”Therefusalwasautomatic,longpracticed.Howmanytimeshad
Iturneddownsuchoffers—fromguys,fromfriends?Myparentshadbeensostrictwhen
IwasyoungerthatIalmostdidn’tknowhowtosayyesevenafterlivingonmyown
thelastfewyears.Studiesfirst.Funlater.Yet,thereneverseemedtobeanytime
forfunafterthefirstonewasfinished.
“Yousure?Idon’twantyougoingtobedwithnodinnerbecauseofus,”Fostersaid,
frownlinesmarringthatperfectmouthofhis.
GoingtobedanduswasaboutallIheard.Myfather’ssternvoicewhisperedinmyear.Youdon’tknowthesemen.You’llbeallaloneintheirapartment.Medinawomenhave
morerespectforthemselvesthanthat.
“Really,I’mfine.Ihadabiglunch,”Isaid,mysmilebrief,plastic.“Butthanks.”
“Oh,comeon,”Pikesaid,histonecajoling.“We’vebeenneighborsforwhat,twoyears?
Weshouldatleastgettoknowalittleabouteachother.”
Gettoknoweachother?IknewthatFosterwasloudwhenhecame—evenifhewasalone.
KnewthatPikelikedtolaughduringsex.Knewthetwomensharedwomen.Andtheother
soundsI’dheardoverthelasttwoyears…thesmacks,thecommands,theerotic
screams.MyfacewentashotasifI’dstuckmyheadinanoven.
“Y’alljustwantmeformytequila,”Isaid,attemptingtodeflectmyderailingthoughts.
ThecornerofPike’smouthlifted.“Ofcoursethat’snotallwewantyoufor.”
“Uh…”Oh,hell.Picturesflashedacrossmybrain.Dirty,deliciouspictures.Ialmostdroppedmy
phoneagain.Ihadnoideawhattodowithmyhands,myexpression.
FosterputahandonPike’sshoulder.“Theladysaidno.Ithinkweshouldlether
gocelebratehergraduationhowevershewants.”
“Allright.”Pike’sfaceturnedhangdog,buthehandedmethetequilabottle.“If
youchangeyourmind,we’vegotbigplans.SupremepizzaandaStarWars–themedpornmarathon.TheEmpireSucksC—”
FostersmackedthebackofPike’shead,andPikeduckedandlaughed.
“Kidding.Imean,aJaneAustenmarathon,”Pikecorrected,hisgreen-goldeyessolemn.
“PrideandPu—”
FosterwasbehindPike,hishandclampingoverhisfriend’smouthinaflash.“Iseriously
can’ttakehimout.He’slikeanuntrainedpuppy.Maybeyoucanlendmeashockcollar
orsomething.”
Pikewaggledhiseyebrows,allplayfulwickedness.
Ilaughed,puttingmyhandtomytoohotforehead,andturningtowardthestairs.
“Yeah,so,I’mgoingtogonow.”
“Cela,”FostersaidasIputmyfootontothefirststep.
Iglancedback.“Yeah?”
Hisice-melteyesflickeddownward,hisgazealightingalongthelengthofmebefore
tracingtheirwayupwardagaininaslow,unashamedperusal.“Promiseyouwon’tgo
tobedhungry.”
Iwetmylips,myskinsuddenlyfeelingtootighttoaccommodatethebloodpumping
beneathit,andnodded.
Butitwasalie.
Ialwayswenttobedhungry.
Andithadnothingtodowithaspilleddinner.TWO
“Whatthefuckwereyouthinking?”Fosteraskedshruggingoffhisjacketandlooseninghistie,annoyancediggingathimlikeabadcaseof
chiggers.
PikestraddledoneofthechairsattheirbreakfastbarwithWhome?innocenceinhiseyes.“What?I’mnotallowedtoflirtwiththeneighbor?Youcertainly
can’ttearyoureyesawayfromheranytimeshe’saround.Iknowyoutimeyourmorning
runsothatyoupassherinthehallway.”
Fostergroaned.“Youinvitedherovertowatchporn,Pike.Ithoughthereyesweregoingtofalloutofherhead.”
“Oh,comeon.Iwasjoking.SheknewIwaskidding.”
Fosterwasn’tconvincedofthat.Cela’smovementshadgonejerkyatthesuggestion,
andherusuallyimperceptibleaccenthadthickenedherwords.“Youcan’tjokelike
thatwithgirlslikeher.She’snotsomechickyoumetafterashow.”
Pikesomehowmanagedtosmirkwithouthismouthsomuchastwitching.“Girlslike
her?”
Fostertossedhisjacketacrossthebackoftheotherchairandopenedthebutton
athisneck,hisshirtcollarfeelingnooselike.“Yes,girlslikeher.Youknowwhat
Imean.”
“Vanillaones.”
Fosterrubbedthespotbetweenhiseyeswithhisthumb,tryingtochaseawaythethrobbing
thathadstartedattheofficeandhadgottenworsedownstairs.“She’snotjustvanilla,
she’s…”
“Hot.”
“Innocent.”Hegrabbedtwobeersfromthefridgeandplunkedonedowninfrontof
Pike.“Andyoung.”
“She’sadoctor.”Hetwistedoffthecapandtookasip.“Sonotthatyoung.She’s
gottobeatleast…”Hepaused,apparentlycountinginhishead.“Twenty-four.”
Twenty-four.NotatotalstretchforFoster’sthirty-two,butsomehowCelaseemed
evenyoungerthanthat—untouchedbytheworld.Partofitwasthatshelteredvibe
thatseemedtowaftoffher,likeshe’dbeenraisedinanotherera.Butheknewit
wasmorethanherdemurenessandmannersthatscreamedinnocence.
Fosterleanedbackagainstthecounter,takingadeeppullofhisbeer,histhroat
dryandhisbloodhotfromthebriefencounterdownstairs.Thescenereplayedinhis
head—thesoundofherbreathcatchingwhenhe’dsaidhername,thewayshe’dlooked
thereonherknees,thathintofablushbeneathherhoneyedskin.Hiscocktwitched
tolife.Fuck
Pikerolledhisbottlecapbetweenhisfingers,walkingitoverhisknucklesinthe
waythatsaidhe’dspentwaytoomuchtimeinbars.“She’sinterested,youknow?”
“Right.ShealmostvaultedupthestairstogetawayfromusafteryourJaneAusten
comment.She’sprobablynextdoorrightnowgooglingtoseeifwe’reonthesexoffender
registry.”
Butdespitehisprotest,FosterknewPikewasn’tfaroffbase.Hisfriendhadprobably
noticedthesamesignalsinCelathathehad.She’dbeenflustered,maybeevenoffended,
buthernippleshadbeenhardpointsagainstherblouseandherpulsehadbeenpounding
atherthroatlikeabeacon.He’dwantedtolickthespot.He’dwantedhertosay
yes.
ButmaybePike’scrassnesshadactuallysavedthem.ThelastthingFosterneededto
bedoingwasmessingwithhisgood-girlneighbor.Womenlikeherwereofflimits.
He’dlearnedthehardwaynottogetinterestedinsomeonefromoutsidehisscene.
Oncethosewomengotovertheexcitementoftheooh,I’mbeingsoscandalousdatingakinkyboyphase,theybailedandwenttofindsomeonetheyactuallywantedtobewithforthe
longhaul.
AndFosterwastiredofgettinghishopesupandwasreallytiredofone-nightstands.HisinterludesatTheRanch,theBDSMresorthebelonged
to,andtheoccasionalménagewithPikeandoneofhisbandgroupiessatisfiedthe
physicalitchforawhile.Butthedominantsideofhim—thepartthatcravedownership—was
shrivelingintoadesiccatedhusk.
Hewasoverthirty,hadajobthatcouldfundaposhlife,andevenhadaswankhome
hisfamilyhadlefttohimsittingempty.Buthewasstilllivinglikeacollegekid,
roomingwithhisbestfriend.Fosterhadgoodreasonsforsettinghislifeupthis
way.Butondayslikethis,whenhesawglimpsesofwhatelsewasoutthere,hefound
himselfwonderingifhislifewasboundtobehauntedbywhatifs
ThedoorbellrangandFosterheadedovertothedoortogetthepizza.Hepaidthe
deliveryguyandtookthetwolargesupremepizzasfromhim,passingthemoverto
Pikewho’deagerlysteppedupbehindhim.AfteronefurtiveglancetowardCela’sclosed
door,Fostersteppedbackintotheapartment.
PikealreadyhadoneoftheboxesopenandasliceinhismouthbythetimeFoster
madeitintothelivingroom.Pikepointedtothebox.“Thisone’smine.”
Fostersnortedandgrabbedforaslicefromtheotherbox.Somethingsneverchanged.
Pikecouldouteatalinebacker,thoughyou’dneverguessitlookingathim.Apparently,
afewhoursofbangingondrumseverynightwasaseffectiveasrunningmarathons.
Plus,Fosterwasn’tentirelyconvincedthatsomepartofPikedidn’tstillworryabout
nothavinganextmeal.Foodhadn’texactlybeeneasytocomebywhenPikewasakid.
Fostersankintotheloveseatandsethisbeeronthesidetable.
“Youreallythinkshewasn’tinterested?”Pikeasked,proppinghisfeetuponthe
coffeetable.“Anytimeyousaidsomethingtoher,shegotalltongue-tied.Andshe
shiveredwhenItouchedher.”
Fostershrugged,tryingtoappearasifhe’dalreadyforgottenabouttheirrun-in
withtheirneighborandwasn’tsittingtheretryingtogettheimageofheronher
kneesorthosebigbrowneyesoutofhishead.
“Maybeshehasaboyfriendorsomething.”Pikefoldedanothersliceofpizzainhalf
andbit.
“Doubtful.Nooneeversleepsover.”ThewordswereoutbeforeFostercouldcallthem
back.
Pike’seyebrowarched.“Andyouwouldknowthishow?Takingupstalkingasahobby?”
Fostertoreabiteoffhispizza,eyeingPike,warninghimoffthetopic.
“Noway.”Hepointedtheneckofhisbeerbottleathim.“Don’tgivemethateatshitlook.Spillit,dude.”
Fosterpolishedoffhisownbeer.Hehadafeelingthiswasgoingtobemorethan
aone-drinknight.Whenhesetdowntheemptybottle,Pikewasstillwatchinghim,
waiting.Fostersighed.“Weshareawall—athinone.Icanhearsomeofwhatdoes…
anddoesn’tgooninherbedroom.Allsexnoiseshavebeen…solo.”
Andhadprovidederoticbackgroundmusictohisownsolotoursmorethanonce,imagining
Cela’shandsroamingoverherbody,herfingersslidingbetweenthoseprettylegs.
Headjustedhimselfonthecouch,hisboxerbriefsdevelopingachokeholdonhis
quicklyswellingerection.
“Holyshit.”Pike’smouthbrokeintoagrin.“Youdirtyeavesdroppingbastard.”
Fosterlookedattheceiling,wishinghecouldrewindandtakebacktheadmission.
“I’minmyownfuckingroom.It’snotlikeIhaveaglassuptothewall.”
Thoughhe’dconsideredit.
“Well,nowondershe’ssoquicktogetflusteredaroundus,”Pikesaid,laughing.
“Ifyoucanhearher,Godonlyknowswhatshe’sheardonherend.”
Fostercringed.“Tellmeaboutit.”
AnytimeheandPikesharedawoman,itwasinFoster’sroom.Hehadthebiggerbed
andmastersuite.AndneitherhenorPikewerequiet.Fuckingwasnoisybusiness.
He’dconsideredmovingthingstoPike’sroomoncehe’drealizedhowthinthewalls
were,butthenhehadn’tbeenabletobringhimselftodoit.KnowingthatCelacould
beontheotherside,listeningtothem,hadonlyservedtoturnFosteronmore.He’d
foundhimselftalkinglouder,issuinghiscommandsinavoicethatheknewwouldcarry,
andhehadn’theldbackhisownsoundsofpleasure.She’dbecomethefocusofFoster’s
attention,anunknowingpartofafoursome.
Hefiguredifshewasbotheredbyit,she’dcomplaintotheoffice.She’dreported
thecoupleacrossthehallwhocouldn’tseemtokeeptheirshittymusictoanon-earsplitting
level,soshewasn’tafraidtospeakup.Butasthemonthshadgoneon,nowordhad
come.Andwhenhe’dpassherinthehall,armfullofbooks,scrubshidingthatcute
littlebody,he’dcatchhersidewaysglances,thewaysheheldherbreathwhenthey
passedeachother.Hescaredheronsomelevel,setheroffbalance,whichonlyserved
toprodhisdominantside,teaseit.It’dturnedintoonetortuousexerciseinrestraint.
“Youthinkshe’sgoingtogetherselfofftonight?”Pikeasked,shiftingonthecouch
andpeeringinthedirectionofFoster’sbedroom.“Shelookedprettykeyedup.”
Thereitwasagain—illicitimagesofCelaonherkneesbeforehim,thosewantingeyes
lockingwithhisassheunzippedhispantsandwrappedthoseplushlipsaround…
“Ah,hell,wehavetostoptalkingaboutthis.I’mgettingaheadacheandahard-on.
Andaspirin’sonlygoingtohelponeofthose.”
Pikechuckled.“Sogobringheracoupleofslicesofpizza.Maybeyou’llcatchher
attherightmoment.”
“No.”Fosterundidhistiefullynowanduntuckedhisshirttails,everythingirritating
himatthemoment.“She’snotourtype.”
“She’snotyourtype.Ihavenoproblemintroducingagoodgirltothedarkside.”Pikeswiggedhis
beer.“Sometimesthequietonesturnouttobethedirtiestofthemall.Allthat
pent-upfrustration,diggingupthoserepressedfantasiesandmakingthemhappenfor
her.”
“Andthentheyfreakout,blameyou,andbailtheminutetheguiltcatchesupwith
them,”Fostersaiddarkly.He’dbeenonthereceivingendofthatdynamicbefore,
andhadnointentionoftakingthatnot-so-scenictouragain.
Pikefrownedoverathim.“Ofcoursetheyallleaveeventually.Goodgirlornot.
Womendon’tcometoguyslikeusforanI-do,myfriend.ThankGodforthat.”
“Right.”’Causehavingsomeonetocomehometobesidesyourpizza-inhalingbestfriend
wouldjustbethemosthorriblethingimaginable.Foster’sappetitelefthim,and
helostatasteforthebeer.“Ineedashowerbeforethemovie.”
Pikesnorted.“Sureyoudo.Extralubeisinthehallcloset.Justdon’tcallout
hernametooloudwhenyoublow.”
“Fuckoff.”
Pikesmackedhislipsinanairkiss.“Loveyoutoo,pumpkin.”THREE
Istoodinfrontofmyfreezer,contemplatingtheuninspiringmicrowaveablemealsandlettingthefrostyairwashovermystill-burningskin.I’d
changedoutofmygraduationoutfitintoatanktopandpajamabottoms,butIcouldn’t
seemtocoolmytemperatureorgetmyhearttostoppounding.Mytwohot-as-sinneighbors
hadflirtedwithme,invitedmeover.
Ihadn’timaginedthat,right?
MaybeIhad.Pickingupthesignalswhenaguywasinterestedhadneverbeenmystrong
suit.Mystayawayfromboysatallcostsrulesasateenageralongwithmyall-girlsCatholichighschoolhadleftmewith
anemaciatedfemaleintuition.Andanyboysthatcamearoundthehousewerescared
offbyeithermyfatherorbrother.
MaybeFosterandPikehadjustbeenjokingaround—orworse,teasingme.Theyhadcalled
meacollegekidafterall.I’dseensomeofthegirlswho’dmadethewalkofshame
outoftheirapartment.Theycertainlydidn’tlookanythinglikeme.Maybeallthe
innuendoI’dreadintothebriefconversationhadbeenmyhormonesinsertingmyown
hopesintotheirwords.
Igroanedandslammedthefreezerdoor.LikeI’dactonasexualinvitationanyway.
Ihadn’tdoneanythingmorethankisssomeonesincestartinggradschool.AndIdidn’t
evenknowtheseguys,notreally.Andthereweretwoofthem.
Mybodyquiveredatthethought,andahotachepulsedbetweenmythighs.Icollapsed
ontooneofthestoolsliningthebreakfastbar.“GoodLord,whatiswrongwithme?”
IuncappedthebottleoftequilaI’dleftonthecounterandpouredashotintoa
juiceglass,thenliftedit.“Happygraduationtome.”
Ikickedbacktheshot,thealcoholburninglikeliquidlightningonthewaydown.
MyfacescrunchedupasItriednottocough.Wow.Maybethat’swhyyouweresupposedtodothosewithsaltandlime.
Asthefirecooledinmythroat,Ilookedaroundmyemptyapartment,wonderingwhat
todoforthenextfewhours,becauseIsureashellwastoowiredtogotobed.Every
nightwasusuallyspentinfrontofmybooks,eatingtakeout,andstudying.Butnow
everytesthadbeenpassed,everyclasscompleted.Thischapterofmylifewasdone.
Sadnessflickeredthroughme.
The“findyourself”yearswererollinginmyrearview.Reallifewashere,waiting
formetoclaimmyspotasaresponsibleadult.
InafewweeksI’dbebackinthevetofficeI’dgrownupin,butnowmynamewould
beontheplacardnexttomyfather’s.I’dgetmyownpatients,myownhouse.I’d
eatdinnerwithmyparentsafewnightsaweekandprobablydateMichaelRuiz.My
formerhighschoolboyfriendhadbeentheonlyonetomakeitpastthetestwithmy
father,andthatwasonlybecausemyfamilyhadbeenfriendswithhissincethebeginning
oftime.MichaelhadmadeitnosecretthathewashappilyawaitingmyreturntoVerde
Pass.He’devensentmeabouquetofdaisiesforgraduation.Suchaniceguy.
Nice.Polite.Justliketherestofmylife.
Itracedherfingeraroundtherimofmyglass,thedroninghumofthefreezeramind-numbing
soundtracktomythoughts.Mywholefuturewasstretchedoutbeforeme—adot-to-dot
picturewithasetpathI’dknownIwouldfollowforaslongasIcouldremember.
OneI’dneverthoughttoquestiongrowingup.Butnowthatitwasstaringmeinthe
face,aribbonofregretthreadedthroughmyalreadymelancholymood,darkeningthe
trajectoryofmythoughts.
Gradschoolwassupposedtobemybigadventure.Singlegirlinabigcity,experiencing
lifeforthefirsttimewithoutmyfatherstaringovermyshoulder.I’dfoughtlike
helltoevenhavethechancetogotoschoolinDallas,hadcomeupwithanargument
topresenttomyparentsthatwould’veimpressedatriallawyer.Intheend,thefact
thatmyolderbrotherwasherehadsavedme.Andtohiscredit,Andrehadmostlystayed
outofmybusiness.
It’dbeenthefirsttruestandforindependencethatI’dwon.
AndwhathadIdonewiththeopportunityafterallthestruggletogetouthereto
Dallas?Notadamnthing.I’dbeentheobedientdaughterandstudiousstudentlike
I’dalwaysbeen.I’devengonetoSundaymasseverynowandagain.I’dsaidnoto
alltheparties.I’dgoneonafewdates,butneverwithanyoneIwastrulyinterested
in.Hell,I’dbeeninDallasforfouryearsandtheshotoftequilawarmingmybelly
wasmyveryfirst.
Witharushoffrustration,Ipouredanothershotandtippeditback—thestingno
softerthanthefirsttime,buttheheatfuelingthecallofrebellionwithinme.
Enoughofthisbull.Drinkingaloneinanemptyapartmentandpiningovermyneighbors
wasfreakingpathetic.Ideservedarealgraduationcelebration.Ionlyhadafew
weeksleftheretogetatasteofallthatI’dneverexperienced.Itwasnowornever.
IfIscreweduproyallyorembarrassedmyself,I’dbegonesoonanyway.Myfriends
andfamilybackhomewouldbenonethewiser.
Withrenewedresolveandalittleliquidcourage,Icappedthetequilaandgrabbed
anotepadofftherefrigeratortowritedownalistIneverthoughtI’dbeputting
intoprint.Justseeingthewordsglidefromthepenhadmythroatconstricting.The
firsttwoattemptsdidn’twork.Iscratchedoutandrewordedafewthings,myhand
shakingwithadrenalineandnerves.Butthenitwastoomessy.AndIdidn’tdomessy.
Iballedupthefirstfewsheetsandtossedtheminthetrash,thengotitrighton
thethirdtime.NicelittleblocklettersformingstatementsIdidn’tevenhavethe
gutstosayaloud.Done.
Istaredatthelistandtookadeepbreath,theneatplanofmylifegettingtucked
awayintothebackofmybrainfornow.Ifoldedthepageinhalf,makingacrease,
andtoreoffthebottomhalf.Islippedthatportioninmykitchendrawer,butkept
theotherhalfinmyhand.
“One,two,three,don’tlookdown,”Imuttered,repeatinganoldmantrafrommychildhood
divingclasses,asIslidoffthestool.Hopefully,Iwouldn’tdrown.
Beforeblindpaniccouldtakemeover,Igrabbedtheliquorbottle,toedonmyflip-flops,
andheadedoutthedoor.
Itwasonlyfourstepstoapartment3G,butitseemedmybloodpressurehadreached
near-strokeratebythetimeIliftedmyhandtoknockonthedoor.Eventhen,Ialmost
spunonmyheelandscamperedbacktothesafetyofmyquietapartmentwhereeverything
wasnormalandpredictable.
Andboring.
Andlonely.
Iknocked.
ForafewmomentsIdidn’thearanything,andIwonderediftheyweren’tgoingto
cometothedoor.MaybeitwasasignfromtheuniversethatIhadnobusinessbeing
here,thatI’dtrulylostmymind.Becausereally,Iprobablyhad.Butthenthere
werevoicesandtheshiftofthelock,andmymusclesseemedtoturntostone.The
doorswungopen,Pikeandthescentofpizzagreetingme.Heleanedagainstthedoorjamb,
lookingedibleinhistightblackteeandwornjeans.Hismouthcurvedupward,and
Iforgottobreatheforasecond.Ohcrap,howwasIgoingtogothroughwiththis?
Heglanceddownatmyoutfitandthetequilatuckedundermyarm.“Well,hiagain,
doc.Changedyourmind?”
“I,uh…”
“Cela?”FosterappearedafewstepsbehindPike,hishairwetandhischestbare.
Oh,blessed,blessedLord.Myeyesautomaticallyshifteddownward,drinkingintherealviewofwhatI’donly
imaginedthemanynightsI’dlistenedtohimthroughthewall—broadshoulders,honed
pecs,andanabdomensolickablethatthesightofitmademytonguepresstothe
backofmyteeth.IknewIshouldlookup,saysomething,butmygazesnaggedlower,
followingthetrailofdarkhairthatdisappearedintothewaistbandofhislow-slung
trackpants.
Godhelpme.Hewasevenprettierthanmyimaginationhadconjured—andmyimaginationhadbeen
aimingfortheoutfieldalready.Everyfemininemoleculeinmybodyseemedtolurch
towardhim,myfingersachingtotracethelinesofmuscleshe’dbeenhidingbeneath
hissuits,tolickoffthewaterdropletsthathadfallenfromhishairontohisshoulders.
Mybodywentintofull,rollingboil.
Iclenchedthebottleofliquorlikeitwasaliferaft.“Hi.Um.Yeah.SoIdecided
Ireallywashungry,andI’llneverdrinkthismuchalcoholmyself,andIknowy’all
areprobablysettledinforthenightnowanddon’twantcompany,andIdon’tknow
ify’allreallywantedmeoverorifyouwerejustbeingnice…”Shutup,shutup,shutup.“Butifyouweren’tjustbeingniceandwantedtoshareme—”
Pike’seyebrowslifted.
Myfaceflamed.OhGod,hadIjustsaidthat?“Imean,sharethetequilawithme,thenwell,hereitisandifnotthenthat’sfi—”
Pikepressedtwofingerstomymouth,thetouchshockingmeintosilence.“Takea
breath,doc.Westillhavepizza,wewillalwaysacceptfreeliquor,andwewillnever
turndowngoodcompany.”
Myshoulderssagged,mortificationbleedingthroughme.Waytobesmooth.Ifthey
reallyhadbeenflirtingwithmeearlier,theywereprobablyregrettingthatdecision
now.Warning:Awkwardgirl,straightahead.IwetmylipswhenPikeloweredhishand,inadvertentlytastingthesalthistouch
hadleftbehind.“I’msorry.Ijustdon’twanttointrudeoranything.”
“Issheintruding,Foster?”Pikeasked,stilllookingatme.
IpeeredpastPike’sshoulder.Foster’sgazewasunwavering,makingitnearimpossible
toholdtheeyecontact.Maybehedidn’twantmethereafterall.Iglancedatmy
feet,butthenheardthelownotesofhisvoice.“Ofcoursenot.Idon’textendinvitations
Idon’tmean.”
Hotgoosebumpschasedovermyskin,somethinginhisfirmtonemakingmeshiver
Pike’ssmilewaspurewarmth.Heleanedoverandtookthetequilafromme.“Comeon
in,doc.Fosterdecidedtojumpintheshowerbeforeeating,sothere’sstilllots
ofpizzaleft.”
“Thanks.”IsteppedinsideandwhenPikeshutthedoorbehindme,Ihadthedistinct
feelingofthesafetynetofmyexistencerippingtoshredsbeneathme.
“I’mgoingtogetusafewglasses,”Pikesaid,veeringtowardthekitchen.
Fosterglancedtothelefttowardtheopenbedroomdoor,thenbacktome,hisexpression
unreadable.“Makeyourselfathome,Cela,andhelpyourselftopizza.I’llberight
back.”
Imovedaroundthebreakfastbaranddowntheshorthalltowardthelivingarea.The
apartmentwassimilartomine,butthekitchenandlivingspaceweren’topentoeach
other.Plus,thiswasthebiggertwo-bedroomversionandhadadecidedlymoremasculine
decor.Thecoucheswereleather,thefurnituresleekandmodern,andtheartworkon
thewallsblack-and-whitephotography.Thestufflookedrefinedandexpensive,like
itshouldbeinsomehigh-riseloftdowntowninsteadofinmymodestapartmentcomplex.
Itookaseatalongthesideoftheginormouswall-mountedTV,andaspaceshipflew
acrossthescreen,thesurroundsoundvibratinginherears.Uh-oh.PanicflittedthroughmewhenIrememberedPike’swordsfromdownstairs.Hadhe
notbeenkiddingabouttheStarWarsporn?
Pikesaunteredintothelivingroom,settingtheliquor,afewbeers,andacouple
ofglassesonthecoffeetable,histricepsflexingbeneathhisgorgeoustattoosas
hearrangedeverything.Heglancedupatme,frowned.“Youokay?”
Iventuredapeekatthetelevision,sawHarrisonFord,andletoutabreath.NoStarWarsporn.Juststraight-upStarWars.“Yep,I’mfine.”
“Liar,”heteased,handingmeapaperplatewithasliceofpizza.“You’resotense,
you’realmostvibrating.Andthat’safter”—heeyedthetequila—“atleastacouple
ofshotsofliquor.”
Isighed,forcingmyneckfromsidetoside,tryingtosloughoffmyanxiousstate.
“I’msorry.It’sbeenareallylongday.AndIthinkgraduationaffectedmemorethan
Iexpected.”
“Isthatright?”Fosterasked,comingbackintothelivingroomwearingasoftgray
T-shirtthatcoveredhisskinbutnotthepeaksandvalleysofthemanbeneath.He
slippedbetweenthecouchandmychair,hisfreshsoapscentdriftingoverme,and
tookthespotontheloveseatacrossfromme.“Howso?”
Itookabiteofpizza,takingamomenttogathermyselfsoIwouldn’tstartrambling
again.Theywerejusttwoguys.Yes,theywerebeautifulandsexyandhadstarred
intoomanyofmyfantasies,butIwasawomanwhohadjustgraduatedatthetopof
herverycompetitiveclass.Iwascapableofcoherentspeech.Mostly.
Iswallowedmybiteandattemptedashrugthatsaidyep,I’mcarefreeandtotallyatease,fellas.“Well,it’ssomethingI’vebeenworkingatforsevenyears.”
“Seven?”Fosterinterrupted.
“Igotintovetschoolayearearly.”
“Ofcourse.”Hemadesomefaceakintoascowl,butcovereditsofastIcouldn’t
besure.
“AndsoI’vehadmyeyeonthisoneprize,thisonegoal.Andnowit’sdone.”
“Butthat’sgood,right?”Pikeasked,peelingoffapepperoniandpoppingitinto
hismouth.“Wasn’tthatthepoint?GodknowsIwashappytofinallyscrapethrough
myfouryears.”
“Sure.It’sgreat,”Isaid,musteringupsomesemblanceofasmile.“ButIrealized
I’vedonelittleelsebesidesworkonthatgoal.Theseweresupposedtobethefun
timesbeforeIwentbackhometosouthTexastosettledownandworkinmyfather’s
practice.ButI’velivedhereforfouryearsandhavespentninety-fivepercentof
iteitherinclass,studying,orsleeping.”
“Nowthat,”Pikesaid,pointingatmewithhispizza,“isagoddamnedtragedy.”He
lookedtoFoster.“It’sagoodthingweinvitedherover,dude,becausewewerelike
threedaysawayfromhergoingallTheShiningonus.”
Ilaughed.“I’mnotquitethatbadoff.”
“No,I’mserious.Icanseetheaxinthedoornow.Allworkandnoplaycanonly
leadtohomicide.”
Pike’sgrinwasinfectious,andsomeofthetightnessinmychesteasedabit.“So
reallyhavingmeoverisaself-defensemoveonyourpart,then?”
“Completelyselfish,”Fosteragreed,hisownsmilefinallypeekingthroughatthe
cornersofthosestarkblueeyes.
Pikeleanedforwardandtossedhisgrease-stainedpaperplateontothecoffeetable,
thenrubbedhishandstogether.“So,nowwe’vegotabigresponsibilityonourhands.
Wehavetomakesureyourfirstnightawayfromschoolisakillerone—andnotin
anax-swingingkindofway.PizzaandStarWarsaren’tgoingtocutit.”
“No,really.Thisisfine,”Isaid,wavinghimoff.
“Nah,comeon.I’mnotlettingyouoffthateasy.WeweresupposedtoplayNeverHave
IEver.Anythingyou’veneverdonethatyou’redyingtodo?”
ThelistI’dwrittenseemedtowarminmypocket.Ishrugged,mytonguegluedtothe
roofofmymouth.
Fosterglancedattheclockonthecablebox.“It’sstillearly.Wecouldtakeyou
outtocelebrateinstyle.Pikecangetintoanyclubwithinahundred-mileradius
oncehetellsthemhe’sthedrummerinDarkfall.”
Pikesniffed.“AndFostercanbribeusintotheswankieronesthatwanttokeepme
outforthesamereason.”
Iglanceddownatmyoutfit.“I’mnotdressedforthat.AndIknowy’alldidn’thave
planstogoouttonight.”
“Planscanchange,”Pikesaid.
Ipressedmylipstogether,mylogicalsidetellingmetocallitanight,stopwhile
Iwasahead.Butthethoughtofgoingoutwiththesetwo,possiblydancingwiththem,
hadmypulseclimbing.“I’llneedmorealcoholbeforeeitherofyoucanconvinceme
todanceinpublic.”
Pikelaughed.“Thatcanbearranged.Youupforit,Foster?”
Fosterlookedatme,hisblue-eyedgazeseemingtopenetraterightthroughallmy
attemptsatacalmfa?ade.“Yousureyouwanttospendyourbignightwiththetwo
ofus,Cela?”
Thequestionandhistoneseemedtoholdmorelayersthanthesimplewordshe’dsaid.
AndforasecondIwonderedifheknewwhatI’dbeenthinking,knewwhyI’dtalked
myselfintocomingoverhereinthefirstplace,knewaboutthatlisttuckedagainst
myhip.Butofcourse,therewasnowayhecouldknowallthat.
Imethisstareheadon,mybraverybuildinglikeastaircasebeneathmyfeet,one
tentativestepaftertheotheruntilIcouldseethedoortotheunknownrisingbefore
me,beckoningmetoopenit.Mychestroseandfellwithasteadyingbreath.“Icouldn’t
thinkoftwobetterguystospendthenightwith.”
Hisjawtwitchedandsomethingferalflashedthroughhiseyesashestood.“Allright,
Cela.Thengobacktoyourapartment,putonsomethingfordancing,andmeetusdownstairs
infifteenminutes.”
Theauthorityinhisvoicescatteredmythoughtslikedryleavesonawindyday.I
scrambledtogatherthembacktogether.“Fifteenminutes?ButI’llneedtoredomy
makeupanddosomethingwithmyhair.”
“No.”Hewalkedtowardme,frowninginawaythatcutoffmywords.“Youdon’tneed
anyofthat.Youlookgreatalready.”
“Agreed,”Pikechimedin.
Irosetomyfeet,feelingvulnerableandquiverywithFosterloomingoverme.“Thanks,
but—”
Hereachedout,hishandgoingtothebackofmyhead,andmywordsgotlogjammed
inmythroat.HetuggedattheclipI’dtwistedmyhairinto,andreleasedit,letting
myhairtumbledownmyback.
“Andwearyourhairdown,”hesaid,pressingtheclipintomyhandashebentforward.
Hislipsbrushedtheshellofmyear.“Iwanttobeabletorunmyfingersthrough
itwhenwe’redancing.”
Allairevaporatedfrommylungs.
Hebackedawayandsmiledcasually,asifhe’dsimplyinformedmeoftheweatherforecast.
“Seeyouinfifteen,neighbor.”
Iclutchedthecliptomystomach,nottrustingmyselftorespond,andturnedtoward
thedoor.Ihadtobehavingadream.I’ddozedoffonmycouchandwasspinningerotic
fantasiesinmysleep.
ButwhenIgotbacktomyapartmentandpinchedmyarm,everythingwasstillthesame.
Everythingexceptme.FOUR
Fosterpacedtheapartmentlobby,stalkingthesmallspaceandtryingtoquellthehumofanticipationrunningthroughhim.Hecheckedhiswatch—five
minutespastwhenhe’dtoldCelatobehere.Ifshewerehissub,everyoneofthose
lateminuteswouldbeearningherafunpunishmentforlater.
Butofcourse,shewasn’this.HedoubtedCelahadeverevenheardofsexualsubmission.
Shescreamedinnocencewitheveryunintentionaldipofherlashes,everyunsuresmile.
He’dhadtofightahard-onsittingacrossfromherinhisapartment,despitethe
factthatminutesbefore,he’djerkedoffintheshowertothoughtsofher.
Pikeleanedagainstthewallofmailboxesandcrossedhisarms,thepictureofplacidity.
“Whatdidyouwhispertoherbeforesheleft?”
“Doesn’tmatter.”Fosterhadsaidthefirstthingthathadsprungtohislips,had
beenunabletoresistseeingthosesablelocksfalloverhershouldersandtelling
herhowmuchhewantedtorunhisfingersthroughthem.It’dbeenstupid.He’dfelt
herstartledpanicelectrifythescantcolumnofairbetweenthem.Maybealltheinnuendo
he’dbeenplayingwithtonighthadgoneoverherhead.Maybeshehadsimplywanted
togooutanddance—asfriends,neighbors.
“Maybeshe’snotcoming,”Fostersaid,forcinghimselftostandstill.Pacingwas
goingtodonogood,andperhapsitwasbetterifshedidn’tshowup.She’dbeenas
jumpyasabirdonthehighwayasshe’dstoodintheirdoorway.Shewastoosweet
forwhatheandPikebroughttothetable.Theycouldbreakher.Orattheveryleast,
freakherthefuckout.
Unfortunately,hersweetnesswastheverythingthathadFoster’sdominantsidebusting
throughtheseamsandhijackinghisbestintentionstostayawayfromCela.
“There’sourgirl,”Pikesaid,comingupbehindFosterasredhighheelsappeared
onthetopstep,drawingFoster’sraptattention.Red.Shoesthatsaidshewasn’t
goingtospendthenightatthelibrary.Cela’sbarecalvescamenext—smooth,touchable
skinthatsentFoster’sheartratespeedingup.Thenasnugblackdresscameinto
view,onethathuggedherabovethekneeandmoldedoverflaredhipsandanarrow
waist.
AboltshotstraightdownwardtoFoster’scock.
Pike’shandslandedonFoster’sshouldersfrombehind.“Andholyfuckdoesshelook
hot.”
PikehadstolenthethoughtsrightoutofFoster’shead.Ms.LivesinScrubslooked
likeagoddamnedpin-upgirlsashayingdownthosestairs.Theonlythingthatdidn’t
matchthecome-hitheroutfitandfuck-meshoeswasthehesitantexpressiononher
face.
Whenshehitthebottomstep,sheofferedthembothatentativesmile.“SorryI’m
afewminuteslate.Icouldn’tfindmyshoes.Ihaven’tworntheminawhile.”
PikesteppedaroundFosterandtookbothofCela’shandsinhis,holdingherarms
outwardsohecouldgetagoodlook.“Damn,doc.Ichangedmymind.Let’ssendFoster
outtodance,andyoucanjustcomebackupstairswithme.”
Alaughbrokethroughthenervouscompressionofherlips,provingshewasn’timmune
toPike’snaturalgiftofputtingwomenatease.
Pikeguidedherintoalittletwirl,givingFosteradeliciousviewofhowthematerial
clungtothecurveofherass.“Youlooksmoking.”
“Thanks.”ShesentashyglanceFoster’sway,hopeforhisapprovalinhereyes.
ThemovereachedintoFoster’sgut,wrenchedsomethingsideways.Hetookherhand
andkissedit.“Youlookstunning,Cela.Andifyoumakeonemovetogobackupstairs
withPike,I’mtacklinghisass.”
Herpleasedlookhadhimtighteninghisholdonherfingers,notwantingtolether
go.Hereyesdippeddown,takinginhisbluebutton-upshirtanddarkjeans.“Idon’t
thinkI’veeverseenyouinjeans.”
Hismouthcurved.Soshe’dbeensurreptitiouslyobservinghimintheirhallwaypassings,
too.“Iworkalot.Suitsarepartofthedeal.”
“Youpulloffbothwell,”shesaid,hervoicestilldancingabitwithnerves,the
Latinaaccentpeekingthrough.
“Thankyou.”Hetookherhandandtuckeditinhiselbow,takingcontrol,hopingit
wouldhelpeasesomeofheranxiety.“Let’sgetgoing.There’sastiffdrinkanda
dancefloorwithournamesonit.”
“Nowwe’retalking,”Pikesaid.“Thecab’swaitingoutside.”
—
FosterwatchedCela’sthroatworkasshesippedhermargarita.Theclubwasinfullswing,butPikehadusedhisconnectionstogetthematable
onthebalconysothattheycouldallhaveadrinkandtalkwithoutthemusicdrowning
themout.
Thiskindofclubwasn’tusuallyFoster’sspeed.Tooloud.Toocrowded.Ifhewas
goingtogoout,heusuallydrovetoTheRanchwheretrueprivacycouldbehadif
needed.ButwhenPikehadsuggesteddancing,Fostercouldn’tresistthethoughtof
havingCela’sbodypressedagainsthis,thescentofherswirlingaroundhim.
ButunlessCelarelaxed,theyweregoingtobecementedtothesechairsallnight.
Hersalt-rimmeddrinksloshedprecariouslyinherunsteadyhandasshesentthetables
nearbyadartingglanceandsipped.Ifhesaid“boo,”she’dprobablyleapoffher
seat.
Waytogo,genius,hechidedhimself.ItwashisandPike’sjobtomakesureCelahadfuntonight,
andtheywerereachingepic-failstatusquickly.
Pikewasatleasttryingtoputheratease.“Sohowlongdoyouhavebeforeyoumove
backhome?”
“I’mgoingtohelpoutintheclinicatthevetschoolforafewmoreweeks.I’ve
beeninterningtherethisyear,andIwantedtomakesuretheyhadareplacementfor
mebeforeIleft.SobeforetheendofJune.”
“Wow,thatsoon,huh?”Pikeasked.
Shelookedatherdrinkandseemedtosinkintoherthoughts.“Yeah.”
Damn,theyneededtoturnthisnightaroundquickly.Celaseemedtobegettingmore
moroseinsteadofrelaxed.Enoughsittingaround.Hedidn’thavePike’stalentfor
settlingwomenwithhumorandtheoccasionaloff-colorcomment.Ifhesaidhalfthe
stuffPikedid,hisfacewouldbepermanentlymarkedfromangryslaps.Buthedid
haveonepotenttoolinhisarsenal—onethatonlyworkedonaspecialtypeofwoman.
AndallhisGod-giveninstinctsweretellinghimCelawasexactlythatkindofgirl,
hiskindofgirl.Evenifshedidn’tknowityet.Timetodowhathe’dbeenwantingto
dosincehe’dfirstmethisshyneighbor.
Hereachedoutandpluckedtheglassfromherhands.“Standup,Cela.”
Sheturnedtowardhimandblinkedasiftoclearhervisionofsomeafterimage.“What?”
Hestood.“Up.Now.”
SheglancedatPikewithawhat’s-going-onlookbutrosetoherfeetanyhow.
“Thankyou.”Hesteppedaroundthesmallcocktailtabletostandinfrontofher,
usinghisheightadvantagetothefullest.“Lookatme.”
Herheadtiltedupwardwithouthesitation—likehe’dtuggedastringattachedtoher
chin.
Goodgirl,hismindwhispered.Butheshovedtheinstinctualresponsetothebackofhisbrain.
“Webroughtyouheretohaveagoodtimetonight.”
Herlipsrolledinward,nervouslysmoothingherlipgloss,andshetookabreath.
“Iknow.Iwantthat,too.”
“Good.”HeglancedatPike,whowaswatchingtheexchangewithdeceptivelycasual
interest.Pikegaveabarelyperceptiblenod,somehowalwaysintunewithFoster’s
thoughts,andclimbedoutofhischair.HemovedbehindCelawitheasyconfidence
andslidhishandsalongherwaist.
Shejoltedabitatthetouch,aflushcreepingovertheskinexposedbyherV-cut
neckline,butsheheldFoster’seyecontact.
“You’reshuttingdownonus.”Fosterreachedoutandcuppedherface,runningafinger
alonghercheekbone.“Ineedyoutoletgoofthenerves.Youhavenoreasontobe
anxiousaroundus.”
Shescoffed,thenbitherlipwhensherealizedthesoundhadescaped.
Pikesmiledoverhershoulderandmovedincloser,pullinghergentlyagainsthis
chest,swayingabittothemusic.Fosterknewthiswouldbethemakeorbreakmoment.
She’deitherjumpinwithbothfeetorshrinkbackintohershelllikeahermitcrab.
Buthewasdonetryingtoresisthisurgeswithher.
Sofar,shewasrespondingjustashe’dhoped,thesubmissiveundercurrentalmost
atasteonhistongue.Thedesiretotakecontrol,totakeherover,surgedinside
himlikelifeblood.Hisdominancecouldcalmher.“You’resafewithus.Neitherof
uswouldevermakeyoudosomethingyoudon’twanttodo.Understand?”
Hergazeshifted,andhecouldseeherbodygoingrigid.Herfight-or-flightwaskicking
in—whichonlyservedtoactivatehischase-and-conquergene.Butrightashethought
shemaywiggleoutofPike’sarmsandrun,sheblurtedout,“ButIdon’tknowhow
todothis!”
Thehonestresponsemadehimwanttosmile,tokissher,tosoothethatinsecurity.
“Dowhat?”heaskedcalmly,lettinghishanddrifttoherthroat,feelingherpulse
quickenagainsthispalm.“Tellmewhatyoufear.”
Sheclosedhereyesasifgatheringherstrengtharoundher—findingthatsteelcore
hesensedresidedunderallthatcottonysoftinnocence.“I’m…notusedtothis.
Beingoutwithguys.Idon’tknowhowtoact,whattodo.”
“Ah,sweetheart,”Pikesaid,pressingakisstoherbareshoulder.“You’redoingjust
fine.”
Fosterbreathedslowly,willinghisownheartbeattoslow,hisprotectiveinstinct
floodinghim.Oh,howhe’dliketoshowherexactlywhathewantedhertodowhen
shewaswithhim,howtoact,howtosubmit.Butshewassoyoung,sountouched.He’d
fearcrushingherundertheweightofallhedesired.
DespitehisbodyscreamingforadifferentoutcomeandknowingthatheandPikecould
seduceherintotheirbedtonight,heforcedtherightwordstocomeoutofhismouth.
“Listentome,Cela.Tonight,we’rejustgoingtodance.Allyouneedtodoisrelax
andhaveagoodtime.Wedon’thaveanyexpectationsbeyondthat.”
—
WhatifIwantyouto?Thequestionsatfullonmylips,mybodyalreadyinoverdrivefromPike’swarmchestpressedagainstmybackandFoster’s
commandinggazeholdingmecaptive.ButIcouldn’tdenytheunwindingballoftension
inmystomachatFoster’sstatement.Theyweren’texpectinganythingfromme.All
Ineededtodowasgetthestickoutofmybacksideandhavefun.Givemyselfover
tothenight.
Givemyselfovertothem.
Theywouldtakecareofme.Ididn’tknowthemwell,butonsomeprimallevel,Iknew
thatmuch.Theywouldn’thurtmeortakeadvantageofme.
“Idon’tknowwheretostart,”Iconfessed.“I’veneverbeengoodatlettingloose.”
Foster’sdarksmilewasdevastatinginthechanginglightsoftheclub.“Good,let’s
startourNeverHaveIEverwiththatone.Lettingloose.Yourinstructionistosimply
act,don’tthink.Ifyouwanttodosomething,doit.Nooneknowsyouhere.Andeven
ifyoufellonyourassinthemiddleofthedancefloor,whogivesashit?”
Ismiled.“That’sadistinctpossibility.”
Pikenuzzledthebackofmyear,inspiringalineofgoosebumpsdownmyback.“Don’t
worry.Ifyoufall,we’llbetheretopickyouup,doc.”
“Wewon’tletyoufallinthefirstplace,”Fostersaid.“Notwithfourhandsonyou.”
Fourhands.Myskintingledattheimage—ormaybethealcoholwasfinallydoingits
job.Myquakingnervesdippedtoamanageablelevel,myconfidencerallying.These
twoguysweren’ttheretoembarrassmeorlaughatmylackofexperience.I’dhad
thathappenoncebeforeandwouldratherbecomeanunthanfacethathumiliationagain.
ButbothoftheseguysobviouslyknewIwasn’tMs.Experienced.Ifthey’dwantedsome
smooth-talkingseductress,theycould’vecomeherealoneandpickedupanywomanin
theplace.Theywereheretohaveagoodtime,andtheywantedtohaveitwithme.
Wastingthatopportunitywouldbelikethrowingawaydessert—atravesty.
IlacedoneofmyhandswithPike’sandreachedoutforFoster’s,channelingtheversion
ofmyselfthatIplayedinmyprivatefantasies.“I’mready.NeverhaveIever…dancedwiththetwobest-lookingguysintheplace.”
“That’smygirl,”Fostersaid,grabbingmyofferedhandandtuggingmetowardhim,
sandwichingmebetweenthetwoofthem.“Let’sgoshowthesebastardshowit’sdone.”
Wemadeourwaydowntothedancefloorandthepulsingmassofhumanity.Fosterpressed
apalmtothesmallofmyback,andPikekepthisgriponmyhandastheyguidedme
intothethrong.Havingthetwomenflankmegavemethesenseofbeingprotected
bysomeinvisiblebubble.Handsandlimbssnakedaroundus,bodiesbrushedme,but
somehowinsteadoffeelingclaustrophobiclikeI’dexpected,itawakenedmysenses,
mademefeelalive.Weslowedaswenearedthecenterofthedancefloor,andFoster
turnedmeintoPike’sarms.
“Hey,gorgeous.”Pike’ssmileglowedintheblacklightsashedraggedmeagainst
himandloopedanarmaroundmyneck.
Igrinnedback,relaxingintohim.Despitethefull-sleevetattoosandhardenededge
ofPike’sbad-boyrockerlook,hispresencewasboyishlycharming.Icouldimagine
dayswithhimbeingfullofopenlaughterandsexyteasing.
Istartedtomoveandtriedtofocusonnotsteppingonhisfeet.ButbeforeIcould
getintimewithPike’smovements,Foster’shandswerespanningmywaistfrombehind,
sendingsensualawarenesssparkingthroughmelikestaticelectricity.Hislipstickled
myear.“Justtakeabreathandletuslead,Cela.Icanfeelyouthinking.”
Thinking.Alwaysthinking.Hewasright.Inoddedandsoftenedmyspine,lettingthesoundsandsensations
flowoverme,tryingtogiveoverthecontrol.IheldPike’sgazeandmovedwiththe
twoofthem—thebasspoundingthroughmyribslikesometribalanthemandthesmooth
elixiroftequilaflowingthroughmyveins.Yes.This.ThiswaswhatIneededtonight…
freedom.
Thesongendedandchangedintoonewithaweighty,sensualbeatandnolyrics.Thump.Thump.Thump.Theguysdidn’tsayawordasourmovementsslowed,butitwasasiftheairshifted
aroundus,grewheavier,warmer.Foster’spelvisbrushedagainstmybackside,and
Pikepressedhisforeheadtomineasweswayedintimetothemusic.Bothmen’scolognes
filledmynose—Pike’sclean,likesaltyoceanairandsummernights,Foster’slaced
withdarkspice.Andunderneathallthat—sweatanddesire.Mine.Theirs.Ours
Iclosedmyeyes,lettingmyselffallintothemoment,themen’spresenceandtouch
wakingupplacesthathadneverstirred.Myfeetmoved,mybodyrocked,hipsswayed.
Butnoneofitwasfrommyfocusedeffortanymore.Thethrobbingbeatofthesong
seemedtoentermybloodstreamandsyncwithmyheartbeat,liftingmeuponthewave
ofmovementaroundus.
“That’sright,baby,”Fostersoothed,hisvoicelikemeltingwax.“Letitallgo.”
Iallowedmyheadtofallback,landingagainstFoster’sshoulder,surrendering.One
songturnedintoanotherandthenanotheruntilIlosttrackwhenonewouldendand
anotherbegan.Heatandalcoholandtheirtouchcoalesced,makingallthenormally
awkwardedgesinsidemeblur.Timeseemedtoslowandstretch,untiltherewasjust
thisonecontinuousrhythm.Justthethreeofusdancingwithoutregardtotheworld
existingaroundus.
Foster’sholdonmywaistroamed,exploringmybelly,thecurveofmyribcage.His
knucklesgrazedtheundersideofmybreasts,andsharpneedtightenedmynipples,
dampenedmypanties.Mercy.MyeyelidsflutteredopenandmetPike’srivetedgaze.Gonewastheaffablesmile.
Arippleofdelectableapprehensionglitteredalongmynerveendings.Pikemaybe
agood-timeguy,butunapologeticdesirehadsurfacedinthosehazeleyes.Iwasn’t
usedtoguyslookingatmethatway.Thepowerofitalmostknockedmedown.
Pike’spalmslidbeneaththecurtainofmyhairandcuppedthebackofmyneck,a
firmgrip.Foster’sbreathdancedagainstmyoppositeear.“He’sgoingtokissyou,
baby.Stophimifyoudon’twantthat.”
Kiss?Pikewantedtokissme.Ididn’tknowwhythiscameassuchashock.
Buttheearthwould’vehadtoquitmovingformetosayanythingtostophim.Iwas
spellbound.Thingslikethisdidn’thappeninmylife.Ididn’tallowthemto.My
worldwassafelyconstructedandpopulatedwithpeoplewhodidn’tpushmyboundaries.
Butrightnow,Icouldn’tthinkofanythingIwantedmorethanthesetwomendoing
whatevertheywantedtome.Oldmehadapparentlyleftmybodyandstayedupstairs
tobabysitmydrink.
Pikepausedlongenoughtogivemeawindowtosayno,hoveringinchesfrommymouth,
hissoftpuffsofbreathtouchingmycheeks.ButIdidn’tturnaway.Instead,Islid
myfingersalonghischest,gatheringthesoftfabricofhisT-shirtinmyfists,
afraidthatifIdidn’tholdontosomething,I’ddisintegrateintoaheapofash
betweenthetwoofthem.Hislipsmetmineinaslow,coaxingdance,matchingthe
beatofthemusic—teasingme,tastingme,lickingalongtheseam,andthenfinally
whenIthoughtI’dgomad,slidinghistongueintomymouth.
Imoanedintothekiss,thepowerofitlikeathunderclaptomysystem.Thetaste
ofmintandalcoholmixedinwiththepotentflavorofunrepentantdesire.
Fostergroaned,asifwatchinganothermankissmebothpainedandpleasedhim.His
handssliddowntothetopsmythighs,precariouslyclosetowhereIachedthemost.
AndforthefirsttimeallnightIdidn’tfeellikeagirlamongmen.Ifeltwomanly
andsexyand…brave.Nolongerfilteringmyactionsthroughmybrain,Iacted
onpureinstinctandarchedmyhipsbacktowardFoster,seeking.
Hemetmysilentrequestwithouthesitation,fittingmybacksideagainsthim.The
hardlengthofhisarousalpressedagainstthecurveofmyass.
IgaspedintoPike’skiss.
“I’mtryingtobegoodwithyou,Cela,”Fostersaid,hisvoicealowgrowl.“Butkeep
doingthingslikethatandmymoralcompassmaymalfunction.”
Mybodyshudderedatthethreat,mypelvistiltingbackward,draggingmyselfalong
Foster’serection.Icouldn’thelpit.Iwasfascinatedbythefactthathewasso
turnedon.ThatI’ddonethattohim.
“Fuck.”
Pikereleasedmefromthekiss,leavingmepantingforbreath,andFosterspunme
around,theiceblueofhiseyesgoingblackashetookintheviewofme.I’msure
Ilookedlikesomecrazedversionofmyformerself—swollenlips,stainedcheeks,
beggingeyes.Hedidn’thesitate.WherePikehadleftoff,Fosterpickedup,cupping
myfaceandcomingdownforacrushingkiss.Myeyelidsdriftedshut,everythingseeming
tospinaroundmeasFoster’smouthconsumedmine.UnlikePike’sslowandsensual
approach,Fosterwasdemanding,overpowering.Mylegswentbonelessbeneathme.
ButPikehadme,hishandsplantedonmywaist,hismouthlayingsoft,suckingkisses
tothebackofmyneck,myshoulders.
Holyshit.Everyerogenouszoneinmybodyflaredwithdesperatewant,andheatslickedmy
panties.IgrippedFoster’sdamphair,holdingonwitheverythingIhad,andwhimpered
intohiskiss—aplea.Forwhatexactly,Iwasn’tsure.Ididn’tknowwhattodowith
allthis…wanting.
“Ah,God.”Hesaid,breakingfromthekiss,butthreadinghishandinmyhairand
insinuatinghiskneebetweenmythighs,puttingpressurewhereIneededitmost.“You’re
killingme.”
Thecontactwasliketossingmybrainintothedeepfryer,mybetterjudgmentevaporating
inacloudofwantondesperation.Themusiccontinuedpoundingaroundus,andmyhips
rockedshamelesslyashegroundthehardmuscleofhisthighagainstme,slidingmy
pantiesagainsttender,needyflesh.Ibowedback,leaningonPikeforsupport,no
longernoticingthecrowdundulatingaroundus.Thequestforrelease,forFoster’s
touch,kidnappedallofmysenses.Ihadlostmyselfandallsenseofappropriate
behavior.
“Please,”Iwhispered.“Ineed…Ineedmore.”
“Jesus.”Foster’sthighlowered,removingthestimulation,andmyeyelidsslidopen
tofindFosterrakingahandthoughhishair,afranticedgetohismovements.“Let’s
takeabreak.Ican’t—IneedabreatherorI’mgoingtodragyouintoadarkcorner
andgiveyouexactlywhatyou’repleadingfor.”
Mytonguesweptatmybottomlip,thesuggestiononlymakingthethrobbingbetween
mythighsmorepronounced.“MaybeIdon’tneedabreak.”
HadIsaidthatoutloud?OnceagainIquestionedwhereCelahadgone.Icouldn’tactuallybeconsideringtaking
himuponthatoffer.Ineededatasteofrecklessabandontonight,butIwasn’tqualified
forthedark-corners-in-clubskind.Didpeopleactuallydothat?
“Doc,”Pikesaidwrappinganarmaroundmywaist,alreadyturningmetoguidemeoff
thedancefloor.“Wepromisedyouwe’djustdance.You’vebeendrinking.We’reall
alittle…overheated.Ithinkabreakisagoodidea.”
Iclampedmylipstogether,stoppingmyselffromtheurgetoprotest.Mybodywas
rulingmyheadrightnow.Thisiswhatmyparentsusedtowarnmeagainst,right?
Youletaguygotoofarandyoumakemistakes—likemysisterdid.Ineededtoget
someair,someperspective.Theguysweretryingtodotherightthing.Ishouldlet
them.
IallowedPiketoleadmeawayfromthedancefloorbackupstairs.Fostertrailed
behind,atightexpressiononhisface.Whenwemadeitbacktoourcorner,Pikejoined
meonacushioned,curvedbench,drapinghisarmacrossmyshoulders,andFostertook
theseatcatty-cornertous.Headjustedhispantsbeforesitting,andIfeltthe
blushrisetomycheeks.GuessIwasn’ttheonlyonelefthalf-cocked.
Pike,whowasclearlyhandlingwhathadtranspiredonthedancefloorbetterthan
FosterorI,orderedanotherroundofdrinks—beersandemptyshotglasses.Isent
himacuriouslook.“Interestingchoice.”
Hesmirked.“Nomorehardliquorforanyofustonight.ButIthoughtwecouldtake
abreather,cooldown,andfinishNeverHaveIEvertheproperway.”
“IthinkweshouldtakeCelahome,”Fostersaid,histoneasstiffashisposture.
Ifrownedoverathim.Isthatreallywhathewanted?
“Screwthat.Thenightisyoung,”Pikesaid,thatmischievousedgebackinhisvoice.
“Andyourblueballswilleaseupsoonenough.”
FostersmirkedandsentPikeaone-fingersalute.
MygazedippeddowntotheflyofFoster’spants,theurgetoeasethatdiscomfort
forhimpalpable.Whatwouldhebelikewhenhedroppedallthatcalm,refinedcontrol?
JusttheglimpseI’dseenonthedancefloorhadmademybloodrace.Partofmewished
Ihadseductionskillsalreadyinmyarsenal,likethosewomeninthedirtybooks
Iusedtoborrowfrommydormmateinundergrad.IimaginedcrawlingovertoFoster,
situatingmyselfbetweenhisopenthighs,andtakinghiminmymouth,tastinghim
untilhemadethatsexygroaningsoundagain.
MyteethdraggedalongmybottomlipasIraisedmylashes.
Foster’seyeslockedwithmine,thefiercenessofhisstarestealingmybreath.“Tell
mewhatyou’rethinking,Cela.”
NeverhaveIever
Givenaguyhead.
Almostclimaxedinpublic.
…Wantedsomeonesomuch.
“I’mthinkingIneedadrink.”FIVE
Fostercountedtoahundredbackwardinhishead,tryingtocalmdownhisracingheartandhisdeterminedlibido.Ithadtakeneveryounce
ofhiswillpowernottodragCelasomewhereprivatesohecouldruckupherdress,
wrapherlegsaroundhiswaist,andfuckherhardagainstawall.
He’dknowndancingwithherwouldbealessoninrestraint,buthehadnoideahow
goddamnedresponsiveshe’dbe.She’dbeenonthevergeofcomingfromthesimplepressure
ofhislegrubbingagainsther—herpupilsdilated,herbodytightening,hersexyscent
driftingtohisnoseandscramblinghisbrain.Ifhe’dbeenatTheRanch,hewould’ve
tornherpantiesoffherrightthereinthemiddleofthedancefloor,tuckedhis
fingersinsideher,andmadeherscreamwhilePikeheldherup.
Fuck.Hiscockpushedagainsthiszipper,andheadjustedhispositionagain.Heneeded
tostoplettinghismindtraveldownthoseroadsorhewasnevergoingtobeable
tositherecomfortably.
Pikepouredoneofthebeersthewaitresshadbroughtoverintothreeshotglasses
andsmiledoveratCela.“Alright,doc.Thewaythisworksisonepersonsays‘never
haveIever,’thenlistssomethingthey’veneverdone.Iftheothertwohavedone
it,theyhavetodrink.Iftheyhaven’tdoneit,theydon’t.Gotit?”
ShepeekedoveratFosterthenbacktoPike.“Ihaveafeelingy’allaregoingto
endupdrinkingalotmorethanIam.”
Pikelaidahandonherkneeandsqueezed,sendingatweakofjealousythroughFoster.
“Noworries,doc.It’sallingoodfun.Whydon’tyougofirst?”
“Okay.”Shefidgetedwiththecocktailnapkininherlap,foldingitintothirds,
thinking.“Hmm,well,neverhaveIever…watchedStarWarsporn.”
HerslysmilepulledalaughfromFosterdespitehisplummetingmood.“Lowblow,doctor.”
Pikeglancedathim,shrugged,andbothofthemtippedbacktheirshotglassesand
swallowed.
“OhmyGod,”shesaid,laughing.“Soyouguyswereonlyhalf-kiddingwhenyoumentioned
it.”
“Itwascollege,”Pikesaidinmockprotest.
“Icouldn’tlookaway,”Fostersaidatthesametime.
“Pervs,”shedeclared,buthereyeswerecrinkledaroundthecorners.“Okay,your
turn.”
Fosterrefilledtheshotglassesandsighed.Heneededtocomeupwithsomethingneutral.
Safe.“Alright,neverhaveIever…ownedapet.”
Cela’sjawdroppedasifhe’djustadmittedhelikedtodressupinwomen’sclothes
andsingBroadwaytunes.“Likeever?”
“Nope.”
“Notevenlikeafishorsomething?”Shedrankhershot.
Hewatchedherthroatworkassheswallowed,imaginingthingsheshouldn’t.“Myparents
traveledalot.Theydidn’ttrustmetotakecareofapet.”
Shefrowned.“Kidsusuallydoabetterjobthanmostadults.”
“Yeah,well,mytrackrecordontakingcareofthingswasn’tsogreat,”hesaid,failing
tokeepthetingeofbitternessoutofhisvoice—theold,always-presentguiltsurfacing.
“I’msorry.”Thestarksympathythatsweptherfeatureshadsomethingknottingin
hischest.God,whyhadheadmittedsomethingsopersonal?Hecould’vejustsaidno
andleftitatthat.
Pikedrankhisshot,andFostersenthimacuriouslook.Whenhe’dmetPike,thekid
hadbarelyownedenoughclothestogethimthroughaweek.Heandwhatpassedfor
hisfamilywouldn’thavebeeninaplacetofundapet.
Pikeshrugged.“AstraycatusedtoliveunderourhousewhenIwasakid.Inamed
himJaggerandfedhim,soIthinkthatcounts.Iwantedhimtobemine.”
Celalookedbetweenthetwoofthem.“I’mdraggingbothofy’alltothevetschool
shelter.Clearly,youneedapet.”
Pikelaughed.“Doc,wecanbarelybetrustedtocareforourselves.Let’snotinflict
apooranimalwithownerslikeus.”
Owners.Fostercouldthinkofonethinghe’dliketoownrightnow—atleastfora
littlewhile.HedraggedhisfocusawayfromCelaandnoddedatPike.“Yourturn,
drummerboy.”
Pikenarrowedhiseyes,thatnicknamealwaysservingtoannoyhim,whichiswhyFoster
lovedusingitsomuch.
“Fine.Let’sseeifIcancomeupwithsomethinglessdepressingthanyours.”Pike
satbackonthecouch,hiseyebrowarchinginchallenge.“NeverhaveIever…”
Thepausewaslong.Toolong.PikesmiledandleveledagazeatFoster.
Ohshit.Fosterknewthatlook.Don’tdoit,Pike
“Gottenoffwhileeavesdroppingonmyneighbor,”Pikefinished.
Youfucker
Cela’sexpelledbreathwasaudibleevenoverthemusic.Well,shit.Nowhewasgoing
tolooklikeacreepyasshole.Fosterventuredaglanceherway,hisgazecolliding
withhers.Herpanicked-rabbitexpressionmadehimwishtimecouldberewoundand
deleted.
“Dammit,Pike,”Fostersaid,gearingupfordamagecontrol.“Cela,look,Pike’sjust
messingaround.Helikesto—”
Butbeforehecouldfinish,Celareachedout,liftedhershotoffthetable,anddowned
it.Whenshefinished,shewouldn’tlookup.Shestareddownatherhandsandthe
emptyglass,herkneebumpingupanddown—asifshewerecontemplatingrunning.
ThesilentadmissionandensuingbashfulnesswerelikestrokestoFoster’scock,oil
onafirehewastryingtotame.Thisgirlmaybeinexperienced,butshewasbrave—bold
inawaythathadhimgettingsurprisedateveryturn.Andit’dbeenahelluvalong
timesinceanyonehadsurprisedhim.Heleanedforwardinhisseat.Likeapredator
scentingbloodinthewater,thedominanceroseinhim,lockedherinitssights.
“Cela.”
Sheputherhandoverherface,shakingherhead.“Let’sjustgotothenextturn.
Please.”
“Lookatme,Cela,”hecommanded,histoneharsh.
Herattentionsnappedhisway,asifshecouldn’tstopherselffromobeying.
Heheldhereyecontactandslowlydrainedhisownshot.
Pouredanother,drankagain.
Thenanother,drankagain.“Icouldkeepgoing.”
InFoster’speripheralvision,Pikegaveaslow,satisfiedgrin.“Honesty.Ilike
it.”
Cela’sthroatworkedassheswallowedhard,herlipsparted,closed,openedagain
asifshehadwordstosaybutcouldn’tpickwhichones.
“Tellmewhat’sgoingoninthatheadofyours,”Fostersaid,keepinghisvoiceeven.
“Youdon’tneedtobeafraidtosaywhatyou’rethinking.”
Shelickedherlips,thepulseatherthroatvisiblyjumping.“First,Ineedtoknow
whatthisis—tonight.”
Pikeangledtowardheronthecouch.“Wetoldyou,doc.It’syournighttohavea
goodtime,whateverthatmaybe.”
ShelookedtoPike,thenbacktoFosterandliftedherhandtothenecklineofher
dress.Herfingersdippedunderneaththematerialandmovedalonghersweat-dampened
skin,rivetingFoster’sgaze.Shepulledasmallsquareofpaperout.
“What’sthat?”Pikeasked.
“Inlessthanamonth,I’llbebackinthesmalltownIgrewupin.Everythingthere
isplannedoutformeinanice,neatpath.ThejobI’vealwaysknownI’dhave,the
guyI’msupposedtodate,theplaceI’mgoingtolive.”
Shehesitatedandstareddownatthepaper,herthumbrubbingacrossthesmoothwhite
surfaceoverandoveragain.Pikeputapalmtoherback,agentlegroundingtouch
thatseemedtoreplenishCela’sresolve.Shegavethembothawaveringhalfsmile
beforecontinuing.
“I’velivedmywholelifeworkingtowardexactlythatgoal.It’swhatI’vewanted
forsolong.ButIrealizedtonightthatI’vemissedoutonalotofexperiencesthat
weren’tbulletpointsintheplan.Idon’twanttogobackhomewithaNeverHave
IEverlistamilelong.”Shesetthesquareofpaperonthetable,letherfingers
lingerontopofitforamoment,andthenpushedittowardthecenter.“AndIwas
hopingyoutwomighthelpmescratchsomethingsoffthelist.”
Foster’sattentionzeroedinonthenote,hisheartbeatclimbingupanotch.
“Whoa,”Pikesaid,herdeclarationapparentlystunningthenothing-shocks-memusician.
BeforePikecouldtaketheliberty,Fosterreachedoutandlaidhispalmoverthe
smallsquare,thepaperslightlydampfrombeingagainstCela’sbareskin.Heresisted
theurgetobringittohisnoseandinhale.
“Thatis,”sherushedon,hereyesdartingtowardFoster’sgriponhernote.“Ify’all
are,youknow,reallyinterestedinmeorwhateverbutifnot…”
“Shh…”Pikesaid,pressinghisfingersagainstherlips.“Doc,ifwhat’sonthat
sheethasanythingtodowithgettingtotouchyouagain,Ihavenodoubtwe’llbe
allforit.”
Fosterliftedthepaper,unfoldeditcarefully,andstareddownattheneat,bulleted
listCelahadwrittenonhalfanotebookpage.
NeverHaveIEver…
Brokentherules.
Hadaone-nightstand.
Livedoutafantasy.
SleptwiththehotneighborsI’vebeencrushingonforayear.
Lostcontrol.
ButIwantto…
ThepapercrinkledbeneathFoster’sfingertipsasallsightsandsoundsaroundhim
seemedtofade,thewordsonthepagenearlyglowingathim.ButIwantto…HelookedupatCela,thevulnerableexpressiononherfaceremindinghimofheryouth,
herinnocence.Buthisstampedinglibidotrampledoverthoseconcerns,hiscockhardening
pastthepointofmaybe.Yes,shewassweet.Inexperienced.
Butthewomanwhowrotethislistknewwhatshewanted,whatshecraved.
Andhe’dbedamnedifhewasgoingtoletsomeoneelsegiveittoher.
IfCelawantedtolosecontrolwithsomeone,heknewtheguysforthetask.
Hestood,tuckingthenoteinhispocket,andholdingoutahand.“Ithinkwe’redone
dancing.”
—
Myheartwaspoundinghardenoughtomakemychesthurt,andafinesheenofsweathadgatheredonmyneck,butImanagedtogettomy
feetandtakeFoster’sofferedhand.ThisiswhatIhadwantedwhenI’dknockedon
theirdoortonight.Wantonabandon.Adeparturefromallthatmypredictablelife
normallywas.
ButnowthatIwasstandingwithmytoespeekingovertheedgeoftheprecipice,preparing
toleap,theingrainedvoiceofmyfatherwasfiringinmyheadlikeamachinegun.
Whatareyoudoing?Youdon’tknowthesemen.You’renotthiskindofgirl.Whatwould
peoplesay?
Andtheeverpopular,Don’tshamethefamily.
Myfatherhadusedthatoneadnauseamthroughoutmychildhood.Myoldersister,Luz,
hadfallenintothewrongcrowdinhighschool,hadaboyfriendwho’dstolenfrom
peopleintown,andhadgottenpregnantatsixteen.Thetaintofthathadhungover
usforyears,evenaftermyfatherhadsentLuzaway,disowningheraftersheterminated
thepregnancy.SowithmyoldestbrotherawayinthemilitaryandLuzgone,ithad
beenlefttomeandAndretoprovethat“thoseMedinakids”weren’tallbad.
Beagoodgirloryouwon’tbepartofthisfamilyanymore.Myfatherhadneverstateditthatway,butthesentimenthadhunginthehousehold
likeastenchyoucouldn’tairout.AndnowhereIwasputtingmyselfintothehands
oftwomen,givingthemalaundrylistofsinsI’dliketocommit.
Foster’sfingerslacedwithmine,andhepulledmeclosertohim,draggingmefrom
myswirlingthoughts.Hebrushedmyhairawayfrommyfaceandgracedmewithasmile
thatsentwarmthbleedingthroughme.“You’repanickingalready,angel.Don’t.There’s
noneed.”
Theendearmentandsofttonewerelikesoothingstrokestomyclimbinganxiety.He
probablycalledgirlsangelallthetime.Iwasn’tunderthedelusionthatIwasany
differentthanthewomenI’dheardintheirapartmentoverthelasttwoyears.But
somethingaboutthewayhesaidit,thereverenceinit,mademewanttocurlinto
him,toblockouttheharshvoiceinmyhead.
“IsitokaythatI’malittlescared?”Iasked,offeringmyownattemptatasmile.
Hecradledmyface,hisblueeyesseemingtoreadmeasifeveryemotionwereprinted
inpermanentmarkeronmyforehead.“It’sallrighttobescaredoftheunknown,to
benervousaboutexploringthingsyou’veonlythoughtaboutinprivatemoments.But
youdon’thavetobescaredofus.”
PikesteppedupbehindFoster.“He’sright,doc.”
“ButIhavenoideawhatI’mdoing.Iwantthis,butIknowI’minovermyhead,”
Isaid,themen’sstarkgazespullingblatanthonestyoutofme.
Fosterchuckled.“Luckyforyou,thereisn’tanythingIlikemorethanbeingincharge
andgivingdirections.”
Pikesmirked.“Notruerwordshaveeverbeenspoken.”
“Comeon.”Foster’sgriptightenedonmyfingers,andPikecamearoundtoflankmy
oppositeside,grabbingmyotherhand.“Youronlyinstructionfortonightisgoing
tobeaneasyonetofollow.”
Oneinstruction?Mymindflippedthroughpossiblescenarioslikeadaycalendarin
awindgustasFosterandPikeledmedownthestairsandthroughthecrowdonthe
bottomfloor.Whatwouldtheyexpectfromme?Whatiftheyaskedmetodosomething
Icouldn’thandleordidn’tknowhowtodo?Whatiftheylaughedatmelikethefrat
guyhadmysophomoreyear?
Pikeretrievedmypursefromthecoatcheckstand,andbythetimethethreeofus
finallypushedthroughthedoorsandthenightairhitus,mynervesweregnawing
atme,chewingthroughmyresolve.Iglancedbackandforthbetweenthetwoguys,
butneitherwasgivinganythingaway.
ThevalethailedacabandPikeclimbedin.IpeekedoveratFoster,gatheringcourage.
“CanIaskwhatmyoneinstructionisgoingtobe?”
Hegrinnedandpressedhislipsagainstmyearasheguidedmetowardthecab.“To
showusexactlyhowmuchpleasureyoucantakebeforeyoubegustostop.”
“Oh,”Iwhispered,myinsidesliquefying.
Heslidintothecabnexttome,pressingmeagainstPike.Pikedrapedhisarmaround
me,andFosterlaidahandalongmyexposedthigh.
“TheHotelSt.Mark,please,”Fostersaidtothedriver.
“Hotel?”Iasked.
Hetracedasmall,sensuouscirclealongmyinnerthigh,makingmethinkofgentle
tonguesandnipsofteethmovinghigher.Mysexclenched.
“Wouldn’twanttowaketheneighbors.”PARTII
NOTUNTILYOURISK
SIX
IwasinacabonthewaytoahotelwithFosterandPike.FosterandPike.Ikeptblinking,staringoutattheroadinfrontofme,wonderingifthewhole
scenewasgoingtofadebeforemyeyes.MaybeI’dpassedoutdrunkinmyapartment
andwashallucinating.Couldyouhallucinatefromalcohol?Becausesurelythiscouldn’t
beme—Cela,thehighschoolvaledictorian,theno-I-can’t-go-out-tonight-because-I-have-to-study
goodgirl.Nicegirlslikethatdidn’tgetinacarwithtwosexy,olderguysfor
aone-nightstand—aone-nightthreesome.Shit.Thiswascrazy.
Cuh-razy.
I’dneverbeensosimultaneouslyexcitedandnervousinmyentirelife.Butdespite
alltheimplicationsaboutwhatkindofgirlthismademe,Ifoundmyselfdesperately
hopingthatthiswasn’tsomedream,thatittrulywasreal.
“Youokay?”Fosteraskedmeaftergivingthedriverinstructions.
Inodded,thoughthemovefeltstiffandjerky.“Youbet.”
Hechuckledquietlyandsettledin,hishandrestingcasuallyonmyknee.Hismouth
dippedclosetomyear.“Breathe,Cela.”
“Trying,”Iwhispered,myheartstutteringatthewarmfeelofhisskinonmine.Pike
stretchedhisarmoverthebackoftheseatandsentmeareassuringsmile.
Iclosedmyeyesandinhaledalong,deepbreathbeforeopeningthemagain.Surprisingly,
itseemedtohelpabit.Well,thatandthefactthattheguysseemedtorefuseto
letmebeanxiousforlong.Iexpectedthecabridetobetense,thequestion—AmIreallygoingtodothis?—onthunderousrepeatinmyhead.ButwithFoster’shandcaressingmythighandPike’s
fingersteasingthehairatmynape,Iwaslosingmyselfintherisingtideofhormones.
Thenervesweresiphoningoffwitheachgentletouch,eachcaress.Andthequestion
ofAmIgoingtodothis?transformedintoifnotnow,whynot?Itwasn’tlikeIcouldfindguysIwasmoreattractedto.Andtheyweren’tgoing
topressureme.IfIdidn’tlikesomethingorchangedmymind,theywouldstop.I
knewthatinmygut.Thiswasmychancetohaveafantasynight,andI’dbestupid
nottotakeadvantageofit.
Internalpeptalkcomplete,Irelaxedagainsttheseat,Foster’sandPike’sbodyheat
bookendingme,theircombinedscentslikebottledsexandmanMmm
Fostersmileddownatme.“Feelingbetter?”
“Gettingthere,”IsaidasIclosedmyeyes,myvoicetakingonadreamlikequality
eventomyownears.NolongerwasIthinkingofthepast,mylackofexperience,
orwhatkindofgirlthissupposedlymademe.AllIwasthinkingaboutwastwisted
hotelsheets,nakedskin,andfeelingthesetwoguysagainstme,ontopofme…
insideme.Eventhinkingthoselasttwowordsgavemeahardshiver,aheadycocktail
ofdesireandfearfilteringthroughmyblood.
Foster’shanddriftedhigher,thestrokesagainstmythighdeceptivelylight.Ifthe
cabbieturnedandpeekedback,Foster’stouchwouldlooklikeanafterthought,casual.
Butthesoft,circularglideswereasilent,relentlessassaultonmystarvedlibido.
Iachedformore,fortheintensityIsensedlurkinginthisman.Foster’stouchmoved
evenhigher,andasifactingontheirownvolition,mykneespartedabitfurther
thanwasappropriate.
Iopenedmyeyes,surprisedbymyowninvoluntaryresponse,andcaughtthehintof
Foster’ssmileinmyperipheralvision.Hekepthiseyesforwardasheaskedthecab
driveraquestion,buthispinkysnuckbeneathmydressandgrazedmysatinpanties.
Oh,Lord.Ahotrippleofheatsizzledupandoutward.Ibitmyliptokeepfromgasping.
Thiswasnothappening.Couldn’tbe.
Pikejoinedintheconversationwiththedriver—somethingaboutthebasketballfinals
maybe—butIcouldn’tbesure.Mybrainwasinreboot.
Foster’shanddisappearedbeneathmydressagain,thistimemoreboldly.Ifthedriver
reallylookedbacknow,he’dknowsomethingwasup.Isetmypurseonmyknees,blocking
theview.Foster’sfingertipdraggedacrossthedampsatin,findingmyhotbutton
throughthethinfabricandcirclingaroundit.
MymusclestensedlikeI’dbeenTasered,andmyfingernailscurledintotheleather
ofmypurse.Pike’shandcuppedmyneckandsqueezed,lettingmeknowthatevenif
hewascarryingonamundaneconversation,heknewexactlywhatFosterwasdoingto
meandhowmybodywasresponding.
Fosterstrokedmethroughthefabriconce,twice—knowingexactlywheretotouch.I
triednottosquirmintheseat.Mybodywasneardetonationalreadyafterwhathad
happenedonthedancefloor.Ihadn’tbeentouchedlikethisbyanyoneotherthan
myselfinyears.And,God,howmanytimeshadIfantasizedaboutthisveryguybeing
theonetodoit?Iwasn’tgoingtobeabletoholdittogether.
Andapparentlyhedidn’twantmeto,becausebeforeIcouldevencatchanotherbreath,
hewasmovingasidethefabric.Thepadofhisfingerbrushedembarrassinglyslippery
skinanddippedlower,findingmyentrance.Heslippedonelongfingerinside.Idid
gaspthistime,unabletoholditback,butPikeconvenientlycoughedoverthesound.
Fostermovedhisfingerbacktomyclitoris,glidingovermewiththeexactamount
ofpressurethatofferedpleasurebutnotrelease.Ihadtofighthardnottomake
asound,whileFostercontinuedhiscalmconversation.“Canyoutakealeft?It’s
thelongerway,butIdon’twanttogetcaughtinthatovernightconstruction.”
“Noproblem,”thecabbiesaid.
“Anddoyoumindturningupthissong?”Pikeasked.“Ilovethisband.”
Themusicfilledthecab,andFoster’steasingtouchesturnedpurposeful.Icurled
mylipsinward,amoanbuildinginmythroat.Oh,God.Ifhedidn’tstop,Iwasgoing
toclimaxrighthereinthecab.Loudly,ifmylungshadanythingtodowithit.
Heleanedclosetome,hiswordsbarelyaudibleagainstmyear.“Comeforme,Cela.
Let’sscratchsomethingoffthatNeverHaveIEverlistofyours.”
Hisfingerdippedinsidemeagain,histhumbstrummingmyclit,andeverythingwent
whitebehindmyeyes.Oh,God,oh,God.Iturnedmyhead,mylipsparting,astheorgasmcrashedoverme.Iwasn’tgoing
tobeabletostayquiet.Butbeforeasoundcouldslippast,ahotmouthwasonme,
mycryswallowedbyPike’skiss.
Mymindwentblank,andinhibitiondroppedfrommelikeasnappedanchor.Itumbled
intothemoment,thetouch,thekiss.MybodyflutteredaroundFoster’sfingers,begging
formore,fortherealthing.AndIpouredthatneedintothekisswithPike.
“Hotel’srightaroundthecorner,”thecabbiesaid,clearinghisthroatandyanking
mefrommyslowdriftbackdowntoearth.“Doyouneedtogothroughthelobbyentrance
orareyouheadingtotheirwinebar?”
“Thelobby,”Fostersaid,tracinghisfingersalongmyinnerthighagain.
Pikeeasedawayfromourkiss,hisgazehooded.“Thenextone’smine.”
Mybrainandbodywerebuzzinginsomelust-lacedhazewhenIturnedtofaceforward,
andeverythingwashot,flush.Foster’shandwasbackinhislap,butthebulgein
hisjeanswasprominent.Afterafewbreathstoreturnmybreathingtonormal,Idemurely
straightenedmydress,thenreachedoutandsqueezedFoster’skneeinsilentthanks—almost
afraidtolookathimbecauseIknewI’dlosemystoicfa?ade.
Heloweredhisheadnexttomineasthecarroundedacornerandnuzzledtheshell
ofmyear,sendingahotrippledownmyleftside.“Thatwasbeautiful,angel.Ilove
feelingyourfearslipfromyouasyouletyourdesiretakeover.There’snothing
sexierthanawomanwhoknowswhatshewantsandhasthegutstoaskforit.”
Iclosedmyeyes,lettingthewarmhoneyofhisvoiceslideoverme.
“TheHotelSt.Mark,”thedriverannounced.
“We’regoingtomakethisverygoodforyou,Cela,”Fosterpromised,andthenPike
wastakingmyhand,helpingmeoutofthecab,andleadingmeintothevastunknown.
PikesteeredmewithahandonmybackintothelavishlobbyoftheSt.Mark.Unlike
themodernlinesoftheclubwe’djustleftorthesleekhotelsthatfilledthispart
ofdowntownDallas,thisbuildinghadthelookoflovinglycared-forhistoricalopulence—inlaid
marbletile,richdarkwoodfurniture,andagrandstaircasethatwouldmakeabride-to-be
weep.
“Wow,thisisbeautiful,”Iwhispered,feelingasifIneededtokeepmyvoicedown,
lestthebuildingrealizeIwasfartoosmalltowntobestayinginaplacesoelegant.
Fostersmileddownatmeaswemadeourwayovertothefrontdesk.“Gladyouapprove.
Ibookallofmyout-of-townclientshere.”
Clients?Thestatementwaslikeaone-twopunchofreality.Mystepstuttered.
Bothguyspaused,asiftotallyintunewithmyeverymovement.“Everythingokay?”
Pikeasked.
Iglancedbetweenthetwoofthem.“Yes.Fine.Ijust…”
“Goahead,”Fostersaid,givinganodofencouragement.
“Well,Ijustrealizedtwothings.One,there’snowayIcouldaffordtopayforeven
halfaroomhere.And,two,Ihavenoideawhatyoudoforaliving,Foster.”
Fosterleveledagazeatme.“First,youwon’tpayforanything,ever.Solet’sget
thatoutoftheway.”
“But—”
Heputafingertomylips,myscentstillonhim.“Thatpartisnon-negotiable.Secondly,
Iownatechcompanycalled4NSolutions.”
Myeyebrowslifted.Heownedacompany?Andhesharedanapartmentinmycomplex?Eitherhewasverybadathis
job,veryfrugal,orsomethingelsewasgoingonthere.Maybehehadalotofcollege
debtoragreedyex-wifeorchildsupporttopay.Thelastcoupleofthoughtshad
mylungsconstricting.
“You’repanickingagain,doc,”Pikesaidsoftly.
Fosterloweredhishand.“Cela,ifyouneedtoaskmorequestions,needtoknowus
betterbeforewedothis,justsaytheword.Wecangotothebarandtalk…or
evengohomeifyouwant.”
Iswallowedpasttheknotinmythroat.Whatdiditmatterifhehadanexoreven
ifhehadkids?Thiswasnotthestartofarelationship.Thiswasnotacompatibility
test.Thiswassex.Afun,hotdiversionbeforeImovedhome.IknewIwassafewith
them,andGodknowsIwasattractedtothem.Thoseweretheonlymust-havesforthis
typeofthing.
Inodded.“I’mokay.Maybey’allcanhelpmeshutoffmyoveranalyticalbrain.”
Pikegrinned.“Challengeaccepted.”
Heslippedanarmaroundmywaistandgavemyhipasqueeze,instantlyeasingthat
lastcoupofmyoldself.
Fosterstoppedatthefrontdeskandgavetheprettyblondebehindthedeskhisname.
“We’llneedasuiteforthenight.”
“Absolutely,Mr.Foster,”thewomansaidinthatelegant,library-quietvoicethat
luxuryhotelemployeesmustpractice.Shetappedonherkeyboardwithlongfingernails,
thenlookedup,takinginthethreepeoplestandinginfrontofher.“Twoqueens?”
“Justaking,”Fostersaidsmoothly.
“Ofcourse.”Thewoman’slipspressedtogether,andhergazeslidovertomine.
Ibracedfortheimpact,butwhereIexpectedjudgment,Ifoundenvyintheother
woman’seyes.Huh.
Threekeycardsappearedonthegranitecountertop.“You’llbeonthetopfloorto
theright.IsthereanythingelseIcanhelpyouwith?I’mabouttogoonbreak,I
couldshowyoutoyourroomifyou’dlike.”
Iheardanextradoseofsuggestionintheseeminglyinnocuousstatement,butFoster’s
responsewasswift,hissmilepainstakinglypolite.“Nothankyou…”Heglanced
athernametag.“Tabitha.Wehaveeverythingweneed.”
Fostergrabbedmyhandandgatheredmetohisside.“Comeon,angel.Ihaveafeeling
theviewupstairsisgoingtobefantastic.”
Oh,Ihadnodoubt.Thethoughtofseeingthesetwonakedhadcrossedmymindsomany
times,IcouldpaintadetailedportraitofwhatIimaginedwasbeneaththeirclothes.
Butastheelevatorloomedinfrontofus,myconscienceniggledatme,urgingme
totelltheguysthewholetruthaboutmyNeverHaveIEverlist.Ihadn’tputanything
onthatlistthatwasn’ttrue.ButlikeanyformerCatholicschoolgirlknew,lies
ofomissionwerejustasbadasblatantones.
Thegolddoorsoftheelevatordinged,andPiketookaquickstepforwardtohold
thedooropenformeandFoster.Weslippedintotheelevator,andPikefollowed,
alongwithanoldercouplewhoweredeeplyinvolvedintheirdiscussionofthesymphony
they’dseenearlier.Asthegray-hairedladytriedtoconvinceherhusbandthatthe
ticketshadbeenworththeprice,Ipressedmybackagainstthesideoftheelevator,
holdingtherailbehindmeandlisteningtothewarringfactionsinmyhead.
Pikeglanceddownatmytightgripontherail,thennudgedmewithhisshoulder.
“Gotafearofelevators,doc?”
Imadeaweirdsound—somehybridofanervouslaughandasnort.Totallyattractive
nodoubt.“Notquite.”
Ourascentslowed,andthedoorsopenedtotheothercouple’sfloor.Theladyoffered
acursorygood-nighttoeveryone,thensteppedoutwithherhusband,leavingmealone
withthetwoguysandmythoughts.
Pikestayedwherehewas,butFostercrossedovertotheothersideandturnedto
faceme.“Cela,lookatme.”
Withasigh,Idraggedmygazeupward.
“Tellmewhatyouneedfromus.I’mnotsteppingoutofthiselevatorifIthinkyou’re
goingtobewhite-knucklingyourwaythroughthis.Iwantyoutoenjoytonight.”
Iheldhisstare,willingmyselftosaysomething,anything.ThelastthingIwanted
todowasgohome.ButIalsocouldn’tbringmyselftotellhimwhatwasknotting
meup.Speak,mybrainshouted.Thelouddingoftheelevatorwaslikeaclapofthunderinthe
silence.Thedoorsslidopenwithasmoothwhir.
FosterreachedoutandpressedtheDoorOpenbuttonbutmadenoothermove.Pikeglanced
atme,questionsinhiseyes.NeitherofthemweregoingtostepoutuntilIsaid
something.
Iwetmylips,andmythroatseemedtonarrow.Panicwasedginginnowthatthemoment
washere.No,no,no.Don’tbackoutnow.Ithoughtbacktothecab,thewayI’dfeltwhenFosterhadtouchedme,andhowhe’d
takenwhathewantedwithoutasking.Theshockofthathadshutdownmybrain,had
pulledmedeepintothoseminutesandscaredoffanyerrantthoughts.It’djustbeen
ataste,butIwantedmoreofthat,moreofthatfreefall.
Iforcedmyfingersoffofthebarbehindme.IfIwasgoingtojump,Icouldn’tkeep
aholdofanything.MyeyesstayedfocusedonFoster,onthecommandingsetofhis
jaw.“IhadabadexperiencethelasttimeIwas…withaguy.Ifumbledabit,
thingswereawkward,andhemadefunofme.Notinaplayfulway.”
AngerflaredinFoster’seyes.“Whatanasshole.”
“Andanidiot,”Pikeoffered.
Igavealittlesmile.“Definitely.Butevenknowingitwashimwhowasinthewrong,
it’sleftmealittlegun-shy.”
Thedoortriedtoshut,butFosterpressedthebuttonagain.“Youhavetoknowthat
wewouldneverdisrespectyouthatway,andIkindofwishIhadtheaddressofthe
jerkoffwhodidthattoyou,becauseI’dliketopayhimavisitandteachhimsome
manners.Butbeyondthatassurance,isthereanythingelseyouneedtofeelmorecomfortable?
Wecantakethingsasslowasyouwant.”
Ilookedupathimagain,therestofthestoryhoveringonmylips.IknewIshould
spillit.Itwastherightthingtodo.ButifItoldhimthewholetruth,itwould
ruineverything.Itwasn’tworththerisk.Hesaidhelikedagirlwhowasn’tafraid
toaskforwhatshewanted.Icoulddothat.IknewwhatIhopedfortonight,had
heardallIneededtoknowlisteningtoFosterthroughmythinwall.NowIjusthad
tosayitaloud.Iflexedmyfingers,tryingtoshedthenerves.“Idon’twantto
makeanydecisionstonight.Ineedyoutwototakeover.Tellmewhattodo.Idon’t
wanttobeaskedeachstepoftheway.”
Foster’sshiftinexpressionwaslikedarkfallingoversnow-coveredfields,icycalm
andinescapable.Hisnostrilsflaredasheinhaledaslowbreath.“Cela,areyousure
youknowwhatyou’reasking?”
“Yes,”Iwhispered.
Hiseyesstayedlockedonmine,unblinking,intense.“Doyouknowwhatasafeword
is?”
Icouldn’tevenshakemyhead,itwasasifhisgazewasholdingmeinsomesuspended
state.“No.”
“Ifeitherofusdoessomethingthatyouwanttostopimmediately,youcallthisword
andwe’llstop,noquestionsasked,”hesaid,hisvoicedisconcertinglycalm.“That’s
theonlypowerIrequireyoutokeep.Everythingelse,PikeandIwillgladlytake
tonight.”
Aheavyshiverworkeditswaythroughme,thethoughtofreallysurrenderingeverything
tothesetwoguyswasadarkfantasyI’dbarelyhadthenervetoadmittomyself.
“Okay.”
Hesteppedtotheright,puttinghisbackagainstthestrainingelevatordoorsand
heldouthishand.“Yoursafewordistequila.”
“Tequila,”Irepeated.Ilookeddownathisopenpalm.Thiswasgoingtobemylast
decisionofthenight.Anditwasonethatfeltmorerightthananythinghadinas
longasIcouldremember.ItookFoster’shand,thenreachedbackforPike’swith
myother.Pikesmiledandlacedhisfingerswithmine.
Ileftmyfreewillintheelevatorandwatchedasthedoorsclosed,whiskingitaway.
NowIwastheirs.SEVEN
Fosterbackedhiswaythroughthehotelroom’sdoorway,tuggingmeandPikewithhim.Beforethedoorevenclickedshut,Foster’smouthwas
onmine,hishandcuppingthebackofmyneck,histongueexploringandstroking.
Thekisswasmoreferventthantheoneintheclub,morepurposeful—controlledviolence.
Icouldalmostfeelrestraintvibratingoffofhim,asifonepoppedbuttonandall
thepassionIsuspectedlurkedbehindthatcalmfa?adewouldrushoutlikealevee
break.
IloopedmyarmsaroundFoster’sneck,holdingonandlosingmyselftothemoment.
Pike’shandspressedagainstmyhipsashetrailedkissesalongmyshoulder.Thetwo
men’sscentsswirledaroundme,andmybody’senginekickedintogear,warmingme
inalltherightplaces.
“Takeoffherdress,Pike,”Fosterdirectedashepulledawayfromthekiss,hiseyes
likebluefire.“Iwantedtotakemytimewithyou,angel.Butthat’llhavetobe
later.I’vespenttoomanynightslisteningthroughthewalltothosesoftsounds
youmakewhenyoucome,imaginingwhatyoulooklikewhenyouclimax.I’mnotwilling
towaitanothermomenttoseeallofyou.”
Theproclamationwaslikebeingdousedwithhotwater,sendingneedcascadingover
me.Pike’sfingerstuggedmyzipperdownintheback,hislipsfollowingthetrack
ofskinexposed.Afterplantingakissonthedipatmytailbone,hestraightened
andeasedthedressdownandoffme.Thematerialfelltomyfeet,leavingmestanding
betweentheminonlymylacypantiesandbra.Nearnakedthatfast.Nobackingout
now.Oh,God,oh,God,oh,God.
Thehotelroom’sair-conditioningwasblasting,butthecoolairdidnothingtoease
myburningskinasFoster’sgazetrailedoverme.“It’sacryingshamethatyou’ve
beenhidingunderscrubsallthistime.”Hecuppedthesideofmyface,runninga
thumbovermycheekandmeetingmyeyes.“You’restunning,Cela.”
Ilookeddown,myhairfallingforward.I’dbeentoldIwasprettybefore.Butnever
beforehadthosewordssoundedsogenuine,sostrippeddown.ItwasalmostasifFoster
hadn’twantedthecomplimenttoescape,butcouldn’thelphimself.
Pikesteppedaroundfrombehindmeandsmiledasmilethatunwoundthelasttangle
oftensioninsideme.Foster’sintensityhadalwaysdrawnme,hadlacedmyfantasies,
butPike’ssexyboldnessbroughtoutmyconfidence.Shamehadnoplaceherewiththese
two.Theyweren’theretojudgemeonmysexualprowessorexperience.Andthey’d
neverlaughatme.Theywantedme.AndIwantedthem.Thatwasallthatmatteredtonight.
I’dfigureouttherestasIwentalong.
“Telluswhat’sonyourmind,gorgeous,”Pikesaid.“What’smakingyoubiteyourlip?”
Ipaused,notevenrealizingwhatI’dbeendoingandreleasedmylipfrombeneath
myteeth.“I’mnotsurewhattodonext.”
ThecurveofFoster’smouthfilledwithillicitpromise.“Closeyoureyes,angel.”
Iletmyeyelidsfallshutandclaspedmyhandsinfrontofme.Vulnerabilityrippled
throughme,butIfocusedonmybreath,countingtheinhalesandexhales.Icould
sensePikeandFosterstandingthere,watchingme.Thentherewasthefaintraspof
cloth,movementaroundme.Smoothpalmstouchedmyshouldersandsqueezed.“Walkforward,
Cela.Iwon’tletyourunintoanything.”
Fosterguidedmewithgentlenudges,hisbigbodypressingagainstmyback,until
mykneesbrushedagainstsomething—somepieceoffurniture.Hespunme,stayingbehind
me,andthenhisfingersweretouchingthehookofmybra.Isuckedinabreathas
thefrontclaspgaveway,exposingmynipplestothebiteofcoolair.Myhandsmoved
upward,anautomaticshieldingreaction.ButFoster’shandswerearoundmywrists
inaflash,pullingmyarmsdowntomysides.
“Gorgeous,”Pikesaidfromsomewhereinfrontofme,thereverenttonemakingmyinsides
goliquid.“Takeofftherest.It’smyturntomakeyoumoanlikeyoudidinthecab.”
Mypulsejumped,thesuggestionalmostenoughtosendmehalfwaytherealready.Foster
releasedmywristsandthecouchspringssqueakedfaintlyashetookaseatbehind
me.Ihookedmythumbsintothewaistbandofmypanties,thankfulforthealcohol
I’dhadtonight.Iwasn’tdrunk,buttherewasdefinitelysomeliquidcouragestill
pumpinginmyveins.Afteronefortifyingbreath,Islidmypantiesdownmythighs.
WhenIreachedmyheels,Ihadtobalancecarefullytosliptheunderwearoff,leaving
mebentandexposedtoFoster.Arumbledgroansoundedbehindme,andthenFoster’s
handswerespanningmyhips.“Stayjustlikethat.”
Ihaltedinplace,onehandonthefloortokeepmybalance—notthatIeverfeltbalanced
aroundthesetwo.Foster’sthumbstracedalongthecleftofmybackside,makingme
momentarilytense,andthenventuredlower,findingthelipsofmysexandspreading
me.Ibittheinsideofmycheek,fightinghardtobestillandnotletmykneesbuckle.
Thenthehot,wetflatofhistonguewasonme,tastingmyheatandlaunchingabottle
rocketofsensationthrougheveryoneofmynerveendings.
“Oh,God,”Isaidonasharpbreath.Myhipstiltedupward,puttingmeteeteringon
mytoes,buttherewasnowayIwasgoingtoletmyselffallandmissasecondof
theblissfulsensationthatwasradiatingoutwardfromthecaressofFoster’sskillful
mouth.
ThetipofFoster’stongueteasedmyclitandthenranalongmycrease,histhumbs
keepingmeexposedtohim.Myeyelidssqueezedeventighter.Onlyoneotherguyhad
everattemptedtogodownonme,andclearlyhe’dbeenanovicebecauseit’dfelt
nothinglikethis.AndthoughI’dbecomequiteproficientintakingcareofmyown
needs,feelingFoster’stongueagainstmewasn’tevenonthesamecontinentasthat
sensation.Thiswasjust…guh
Hisbreathwashotagainstme,hisstubbleraspingalongmytenderskin.“Sosweet,
angel.Icouldspendallnighttastingyou,feelingyoucomeagainstmymouth.”
Mybackbowed,mybodyachingforhimtodojustthat.Butinsteadofcontinuing,
heshiftedaway,caressingtheoutsidesofmythighs.
“ButI’mbeingselfish,”hesaid,adarksmilehidinginhistone.“Standup.”
AftertakingasecondtomakesureI’dheardcorrectly,Ipushedmyselftostand.
Aheadrushandthepulsingneedbetweenmylegssentmeswayingonmyfeet.“Whoa.”
Foster’shandskeptmesteady.“Sitbackonme,angel.Ithinkit’stimewereward
Pike’spatience,don’tyou?”
Igulpedatthethought,anticipationspinninginme,butmanagedanod.“Yes.”
Aquickpinchatmywaistmademegasp,thenFoster’ssmooth,commandingvoice:“If
youwantmetobeincharge,Iexpectyoutocallmebymynameorsir.Doyouunderstand?”
Thecommandmademythoughtsstutter,tripovereachother.Sir?Theideashould’vebeenlaughable,butforsomereasonitmadesomethingsnakelow
andhotinmybelly.Iswallowedpastmyparchedvocalcords.“Yes…sir.”
Hekissedthespothe’dpinched.“Goodgirl.Nowsitbackandletusenjoyyou.”
Goodgirl.Thosewerethemostironicwordsofthenight.ItwaswhoI’dbeenallmylife,
butrightnowIwasasfarremovedfromthatlabelasI’deverbeen—unchartedwaters.
IkeptmyeyesclosedandletFosterguidemeinbetweenhisspreadthighs.
Heloopedmyarmsaboveme,securingthemaroundhisneck,andthenhookedhisankles
withmine,partingmylegsandopeningmetoPike.Imayhaveceasedbreathing.
“Youcanopenyoureyesnow,doc,”Pikesaid,hisvoicedevoidoftheplayfulness
thatusuallycoloredit.
Ifeltlikeabutterflypinnedtoaboard,totallyexposedandvulnerable.Butsomething
aboutbeingheldinplace,Foster’shardbodybeneathme,hadeverythinginmepulsing
andmybodyaching.ThisiswhatI’daskedfor—theabsenceofchoice.Knowingthat
theyweredecidingthemovestookawaysomeoftheawkwardnessthatwould’veswamped
meotherwise.
Iliftedmylashes,collidingheadonwithPike’sheatedstare.He’dstrippedoff
hisshirt,giftingmewiththesightofallthattawnymuscleandtattooedskin.I
wantedtotouchhim,toexplore,totaste,butasifinvisiblebondshadwrappedaround
mywrists,Ikeptmyhandslockedaboveme,claspingFoster’sneck.
Piketookastepcloser,andmygazedrifteddownward,tracingthehardlineofthe
erectionpressingagainstthefrontofhisjeans.Mysexclenched,mybodyaching
toknowwhathe’dfeellikeinside.Iknewitwouldhurttonight,waspreparedfor
that.Butthefearwasquicklyfadingtoadistantbeatinthebackofmybrain.Need
trumpedthatanxietythemomentFosterhadputhismouthonme.
Pikerubbedhispalmoverthebulge.“That’swhatyoudotome,doc.Whatyoudoto
us.”Hereachedoutandcaressedmyknee.“Icouldgetoffjustseeingyoulikethis.”
Hekneltdowninfrontofme.“ButI’dratherdomorethanlook.”
Fosteradjustedhislegsandpulledmythighsfurtherapart,spreadingmeforPike.
Iglanceddownmybody,seeingthehardpointsofmynipples,theglisteningpink
ofmysex.Pikeblewagentlebreathovermydampskin,sensitizingeverythingand
makingmeshiver.“Sowetandprettyalready.”
Thenheloweredhisheadandputhismouthonme—hot,wet,andmaddeninglygentle.
IarchedagainstFoster,andhissexygruntpressedagainstmyear.“Don’tletgo
yet,angel.LetPiketeaseyou.”
“But,”IgaspedasPikecircledhistonguearoundmyswollennub,lickingandlaving.
Everythinginsidemealreadyfeltreadytoblowtobits.Thiswassomuchmorethan
myownfingersorevenmyvibrator.“God,I’venever…”
“Havepatience,”Fostermurmured.“It’llmakeitbetter.Ipromiseyou’regoingto
gettocome.Manytimes.”
IwatchedPike’spaleblondheadrockbetweenmythighs,thesightoneofthemost
eroticI’deverexperienced.Heliftedhisgaze,asifsensingmystare,andglided
theflatofhistonguealongmyfoldswhileholdingtheeyecontact.Ishudderedhard,
thelinkalmosttoointense.
Thenheloweredhisheadagain,andtwofingersslidinsidemysoakedchannel.The
fitwasdeliciouslysnug.Iwhimperedandundulatedagainsthishandandtheintensifying
pressureofhistongue.Asurgeofneedbuiltbehindthedaminsideme,pressingagainst
theresistanceIwastryingtoholdstrong.Mylidsfellclosed,andmyhipsbegan
arhythmic,involuntaryrocking.
“Ah,angel,that’sright.Fuckhismouth.Takewhatyouneed.God,you’rebeautiful
whenyouletgo.”
Foster’sdirtywhisperedwordswereasoundtrackfrommymostprivatefantasies.All
Icoulddowasmoaninresponse,thecantingofmyhipspickinguppace.ThenFoster’s
handswerecuppingmybreasts,holdingmeinplace.
“Youwanttogoover,baby?”heasked,hisvoiceraspywithgrit.
“Yes.Please…”
“BegPike.Tellhimwhatyouneed,”Fostercommanded.Hepinchedmynipples,aswift
eroticpainthatmademecryoutandgodesperateforrelease.
Isqueezedmyeyesshut,beyondembarrassmentorshame.“Please,Pike.Ineedtocome.
Please.”
Pikegroanedandthenhisfingerswerecurlinginsideme,hittingaspotI’dheard
ofbuthadneverbeenabletofindmyself.Theworldsplinteredbehindmyeyelids.
IbowedoffFoster,andmythighsclampedaroundPike’sheadasorgasmenvelopedme.
Mycriessoundedunfamiliartomyownears—theabandonasforeignastheemotions
coursingthroughme.
IrodethewaveofsensationuntilIwaspantingandwrithing,edgywithbothsatisfaction
andtheneedformore.Needforthem.PikeeasedbackonceI’dloosenedmyheadlock
onhim,thenhewasclimbingupthelengthofme.Hismouthmetmineinalust-filled
haze.MyarmsreleasedFoster’sneckasthetasteofPikeandmyownarousalfilled
ourkiss.Fostercontinuedtoteasemybreasts,hishandstrappedbetweenmyandPike’s
bodies,andhekissedmyshoulder,myneck.Hungry.Wanting.
Foster’serectionpressedagainstmybottomasheshiftedforward.Iwriggledagainst
himevenasIcontinuedtokissPike.Theswirlofsensationsovertookme.Ilost
trackofwhosehandwaswhere,whosescentfilledmynose.Itwasbothofthem,all
ofthem,coalescingintooneheadymoment.
Pikepulledaway,gaspingforbreath.“Fuckslow.Bedroom.Now.”
“Agreed,”Fostergrowled.
Pikepushedawayfromthecouch,andFosterturnedmeintohisarms,standingupand
liftingmewithhim.Ilinkedmyarmsaroundhisneckagainandcaughthisgaze.The
starkneedthatfilledthoseseaglasseyesseemedtoreachinsidemeandtwisteverything
intosomethingnewanddifferent.Unrecognizable.Iknewthenthatwhateverhappened
next,I’dneverbethesame.Evenifitwasjustthisonenight.Thismanwouldchange
me.
Maybealreadyhad.
Hecarriedmetowardthebedroom,Pikeaheadofus.AndItoremygazeawayfromFoster’s,
theconnectionalmosttoopowerfultobear.Forthefirsttimesincewalkingin,I
noticedtheelegantcreamsandgoldsofthesuite,therefineddecor,thefreshflowers.
Everydetailhadbeenfinelyattendedto.Itwasromantic.Andexpensive.Fitfor
ahoneymoon.
Oragirllosinghervirginity.
“I’vebeenimaginingthisforalongtime,”Fosterconfessedashesteppedintothe
largebedroom.
Ismiled,warmthspreadingthroughme,thefeelingofrightnesssettlinginmygut.
“SohaveI,Foster.”
SohaveI.
EIGHT
Fostersetmeonmyfeetinthebedroomanddidn’tletgountilhemadesureIwassteady.Hebrushedmyhairawayfrommyface,hisexpression
unreadableinthecombinationofsoftlamplightandshadows.“Undressme.”
Itwasasimplerequest,buthellifitdidn’tmakearippleofOh,myGod,yesgothroughme.Iliftedmyhands,myfingersalmostforgettinghowtoworkasIreached
forthebuttonsonhisshirt.HowmanytimeshadIpicturedhisnakedbodyinmyfantasies?
WhenI’dhearFostercomeinlate,I’dliethereinbed,holdingmybreathandlistening
tothesoundshemade.TheTVturningon,theplunkofshoescomingoffandhitting
thefloor.I’dimaginehisclothesslidingoffofhim,thehardmuscleandplanes
ofhisbodycomingintoview.Myeyeswouldshutandwithoutpausingtothink,I’d
tracemyhanddownmybelly,belowthebandofmypanties,andpretenditwashis
touchinsteadofmine.
AsIreachedthebottombutton,Fosterputafingerbeneathmychin,tiltingmyface
towardhim.“Whatareyouthinkingabout,angel?”
Inthecornerofmyeye,IsawPikesitontheedgeofthebed,hisattentionfixed
onthetwoofus.Nervescreptin,makingmyskingohotthenclammy.
ItriedtolookawayfromFoster,buthetappedmychin.“Noyoudon’t.Lookatme
andtellmewithoutfiltering.”
Iforcedmyfocusupwardandtriedtoswallowpastmyparchedthroat.Mycheeksburned
hot—guiltandshame,myoldCatholicfriends,pumpingthroughme.ButIwasnotgoing
tochickenoutnow.IfIwantedpeopletostoptreatingmelikeIwasanaivelittle
girl,Ineededtostopactinglikeone.“IwasthinkingabouthowmanytimesI’ve
touchedmyselfwhilelisteningtoyougetundressedinyourroom,howmanytimesI’ve
imaginedyounaked.”
Hisgriponmychintightened,andhisjawflexed,thepleasedlookinhiseyeits
ownreward.“Ithinkwe’vebothimaginedthingslongenough,don’tyou?”
“Yes,sir,”Isaid,thewordsquiveryinthequietroom.Thisisgoingtohappen.Thisisreallygoingtohappen.
Ipushedhisshirtoffhisshoulders,lettingmyfingerstravelovertheripplesand
dipsofhispecsandshoulders.Hardmuscleandhotskin.Theshirthitthefloor,
andIwenttothebuttononhisjeans,knowingthatifIstoppedmoving,I’dstart
questioningmyself.Sowithoutexaminingtheurge,Iloweredmyselftomykneesand
pulleddownthezipper.Thethickoutlineofhiserectionpressedagainstthedenim—intimidating
andenticingallatonce.Igrabbedthewaistofhispantsandloweredthemalong
withhisboxerbriefs.Hiscockslippedfree,hardandheavywitharousal.Ibitmy
lipsothegaspwouldn’tescape.
I’dseenanakedmanatimeortwobefore,hadfooledaroundwithafewguys.And
IhaddefinitelylookedatmorethanmyshareofillicitphotosontheInternet.But
I’dneverbeenthisclose,thisintimate.It’dalwaysbeenhandsfumblingaroundin
thedarkwhilemakingout.AndhewasdefinitelybiggerthananyguyI’dbeenwith
before.Justthesightofhimhadeverythinginsidemestirringandaching.Icouldn’t
remembereverbeingsodesperatetotouchandtasteaman.Iwantedtoexploreevery
inchofhim,wantedtofeelthedarkthatchofhairbeneathmyfingers,wantedto
feelthesoftskinagainstmycheek,inmymouth.
Fosterranahandovermyhair.“Hoperealitylivesuptothefantasy.”
Ilookeduptofindinghimwithateasingsmile.Ishrugged,thoughittookeverything
insidemetoappearcasual.“This’lldo.”
Helaughed.“Smartass.”
“No,smartgirl.”Pikestood,comingtomyside.He’dundonethebuttononhisown
jeans,givingmeapeekbeneath.Nounderwear,justsmooth,hardbellybehindthe
zipper.“Hedoesn’tneedanyhelpwithhisego.”
Fostersniffed.
Pikesteppedbehindme,siftinghisfingersthroughmyhair.“Doyouwanttotaste
him?”
Icurledmyfingersagainstmythighs,nervespushingthroughagain.WhatifIscrewed
itallupnow?OnewrongmoveandI’dexposeexactlywhatIwasmosttryingtohide.
“Iwantto,butI’mnotveryexperiencedatthis.”
Orexperiencedatall.
Pikereachedaroundandcuppedmyjawwithagentlehold.“Don’tworry,beautiful.
I’llguideyou.Takehiminyourmouth.Believeme,youcan’tdoanythingwrong,except
teeth.”
IliftedmygazetoFoster,tofindthesmilehadlefthisface,replacedbyhard-edged
desire.“Keepyoureyesonmewhileyoudoit,angel.”
Ilickedmylips,myfingernailscuttingintomypalms.Iwantedtogetthisright,
wantedtobringhimasmuchpleasureasthetwoofthemhadgivenmealready.But
withmycompletelackofexperience,IfearedI’dbeadisappointment.HowcouldI
comparetoallthoseprettygirlsI’dseencomeandgofromtheirapartmentoverthe
lasttwoyears?
Butbeforemyanxietycouldstealawaywithmynerve,Pikeeasedmyheadforward,
guidingmeoverFoster’scockandtakingawaymychoice—justlikeI’dasked.Mylips
parted,andItookFosterintomymouth,holdinghiseyecontactasheslidinside.
Thesaltandmuskofhisskinpaintedmytongueandfilledmysenses,hisflavorand
scentlikepotentaphrodisiacsdumpedintomybloodstream.God,Ihadn’tknownwhat
toexpect,butlikingthetastesurprisedme.MyfriendBaileyhadalwaysmadeblow
jobssoundlikeachore.ButhavingFosterpushingalongmytonguefeltlikeanything
but.Itfeltlikeaprivilege.
Anewrushofdesirepulsedbetweenmylegs,makingmemoanaroundFosterasIbrought
himasfartothebackofmythroatasIcouldmanage.
“Ah,God,”hesaid,hisvoicelikesoft,warmstrokestomyskin.“That’sit,angel.
Perfect.Touchmewhileyoudoit.”
Emboldenedbythefeedback,Iliftedmyhandsandtrackedupanddownhisthighs,
feelingthehardmusclesthere,thetension.Heraneverymorninganditshowed.The
thoughthadasparkofself-consciousnessbloomingthroughme.Hadheexpectedme
tobethisbuilt?Iwassofteverywherehewashard,mycurvyfiguresomethingI’d
neverbeenabletochangeevenwhenIdidgetonaregularexerciseplan.
“She’sthinkingagain,Pike,”Fostersaidwithatskingtone.“Fixit.”
Pike’sgriponmyhairtightened.“Eyesopen,doc.Andtouchhimlikeyoureallywant
to.Iknowallthosenightsinyourroomyouweren’tthinkingabouttouchinghislegs.”
Thecommandsnappedmeoutofmytankingthoughts.IopenedmyeyesandfoundFoster’s
gazeagain,theheattherelikeananchorkeepingmefromdriftingtoofarfromshore.
There’snowayhecouldlookatmelikethatifhedidn’tlikewhathesaw.Ibobbed
myhead,takinghimdeepagain,andrefocusedmyefforts.Also,knowingPikewasone
hundredpercentright,IletmyhandsfindtheirwaytotheareaIreallywantedto
explore.Icuppedhissac,caressingthedelicateskinthere,lovingtheweightof
himinmypalm.Mymouthandtongueslidoverthelengthofhimagain,Pike’sgrip
onmyheaddeterminingmypacenow.I’daskedtonothavetomakeanydecisionsand
theywerekeepingtheirpromise.Iwastheretobeusedhowtheywished.
Theideashould’verankledme.Beingused.Iwantedittobotherme.Butinsteaditonlyservedtodialuptheintensityofthisexperience
moreandtodeflectmynear-constantsexualinsecuritiesfromovertakingme.Iwanted
topleaseFoster,wantedtodowell.Likemyinnateinclinationtobethebestdaughter,
thebeststudent,thebesteverything,thisneedseemedtostemfromsomeplaceI
couldn’tdefine.WhetherIlikeditornot,hislevelofpleasurewasdirectlytied
tomine.IfIthoughttoohardaboutit,I’dleadmyselftonoplacegood.
“Eyesonme,angel,”Fosterremindedme,draggingmebackagain.
Ibroughtmyattentionbackupward,findingFoster’seyesfilledwithnakedlustand
adangerousedge—likeitwastakingeverystitchofhiscontrolnottocompletely
overtakeme.Thesheerpowerofthatlookhadmymindemptying,myworrisomethoughts
winkingoutofexistencelikestarsatdawn.Imovedforwardandranmytonguealong
theveinatthebaseofhiscock,thentriedtorelaxmythroat,workingtokeepmy
teethclearofhimatthesametime.Iwantedallofhiminsideme.Igaggedabit
whenhehitthefarbackofmythroat,butmanagedtobreathethroughitwithoutletting
go.
NowFosterwastheonetobreaktheeyecontact,hisheadtiltingbackandalowgroan
slippingfromhim.“Notsurewhatyou’redoing,huh?You’reabouttobringmetomy
knees.”
Thepraiserainedovermelikeasummerstorm.Iclosedmyeyesandhollowedmycheeks,
suckinghimwiththelevelofneedrisinginmyownbody.
“Jesus.”Anotherhandwassuddenlyinmyhair,pullingmeaway.Fostersteppedback,
hisgripgentlingafterasecond.“Notyet,angel.I’vewaitedthislong.WhenIcome,
Iwanttobeface-to-face,deepinsideyou.”
Hotgoosebumpstrailedovermyskin,theglimpseofhisslippingcontrolgivingme
arushoffeminineconfidence.NotonlyhadInotmessedup,I’dalmostmadehimcome.
Icouldn’tstopthesmilefromliftingmylips.
Fosterchuckled.“Well,don’tyoulookpleasedwithyourself.”
“Sheshouldbe,”Pikesaid,lettinghergo.“Shedidn’teventouchme,andmyhead’s
abouttoexplode.”
IturnedtowardPike,stayingonmyknees,thepraisemakingmebrave.“Icouldhelp.”
Pikesmiled.“It’sokay,baby.Icanbepatient.Tonight’saboutyou.”
Isenthimaraisedeyebrowandboldlytuggedathiszipper.WhatthehellwasIdoing?
Ididn’trecognizethisversionofmyselfbutlikedit.Myhanddippedinsidehis
fly,pullinghisthickcockfreeofitsdenimprison.Abeadofmoistureglistened
atthetopandwithoutgivingmyselftimetothink,Ileanedforwardandswipedit
withmytongue.
“Well,don’tfuckinglistentome,”hesaid,laughing.“Clearlyyouhavebetterideas.”
“Sitonthebed,Pike,”Fosterdirectedfrommyleft.“AndCela,onyourhandsand
knees.”
Pikehelpedmetomyfeet,obviouslyusedtoFostertakingcharge,thenledmeto
thebed.Heclimbedontothemattress,pullingmeontoitwithhim,andsettledback
onthepuffypillows,histattooslikegorgeousartagainstallthosewhitelinens.
Hecradledmyface,bringingmeinforasoftkissfirst,thenguidedmedownhis
torsotolowermymouthdownonhim.
ItookPike’slengthbetweenmylipsandtuckedmykneesbeneathme,inadvertently
exposingmybacksidetoFoster’sview.ThebeddippedasFosterjoinedus.Ahand
caressedthecurveofmyass,andIhadanotherbriefmomentofpanicaboutmybody.
Butwhenhisfingersdippedbetweenmylegs,findingthatwetandachingspot,all
thoughtsdissipated.IwhimperedaroundPike’scock,unabletostopthedesperate
soundfromescaping.
“Mmm,Ilovetohearhowbadlyyouwantthis.”Fostermovedhisfingers,teasingmy
clitoriswithoutdirectlytouchingit.“You’resobeautifulwhenyougiveintoit.
Sosexy.I’mfindingithardtoplaynice.”
Pike’shandwasthreadingthroughmyhair,hispelvisrockingtowardme,butFoster’s
wordslandedheavyonme.Iwantedtorespondtohim,toanswer,butIalsodidn’t
wanttobreakthemoment.AndIwasn’tevensurewhatI’dsay.AllIknewwasthat
whateverhewantedtodo,Iwasgameforit,especiallyifhekepttouchingmelike
that.Iwidenedmyknees,showingFosterintheonlywayIknewhowthatItrusted
him.Ihadputmyselfintheirhandsandmeantit.
Fostermadeasoundofapproval.Hishandtrackedoverthecurveofmybackside.“I
liketoplayalittlerough,angel.AndeventhoughIknowyou’renotreadyformost
ofthatrightnow,I’mnotsureIcanresistthisprettyass.”
Mypacestutteredabit,unsureofwhathewassuggesting—thepossibilitiesbothscaring
andexcitingme.
Pike’sfingerswentgentleagainstmyscalp,andheeasedmeupwarduntilIwaslooking
upathim.Hishazeleyeshadgoneblack,yearning.“Hewantstospankyou,baby.
Ifyou’renotcoolwiththat,sayso.”
Fosterwantedto…oh.Rough.Hewantedtohitme.
Ipeekedovermyshoulder,findingFoster,seekingreassurance.Hishandwasstill
againstme,buthisfocuswassolelyonmyeyes.Therewaspowerinhisgaze,steely
control,butunderneaththerewasavulnerabilitythatreachedrightintomychest
andtugged.Askingforthiswascostinghimsomething.Hehadn’tplannedtoshowme
thissideofhimself
“Itrustyou,”Isaid,myvoiceasevenasI’deverheardit.Icouldn’tsaythesame
formyheartbeat.Iknewtherewassomelinewewereabouttocross,somehighlyuncharted
territoryforme.ButIcouldn’tfindthewordnoinmyvocabulary,notwhenhewasgivingmethatlook.Imayhavewalkedacrossglass
inthatmomenttopeekpastthatdoorhe’djustcrackedopen.
Atmywords,thewrinkleinFoster’sbrowsoftened,hisfeaturesshiftingfromconcern
toresolve.“FinishwhatyoustartedwithPike.Andtouchyourselfwhileyoudoit,
angel.Itwillmakethisallthebetter.”
Touchmyself?Infrontofthem?Instinctiveshamebubbledupinmeagain—thedamnemotion
alwaysrunningrightbelowthesurfacereadytoburstthrough.Butjustasquickly
Ishovedthethoughtfrommybrain.Iwasnaked,assintheairbetweentwomen.I’d
alreadyjumpedthatshark.
“Yes,sir,”IsaidthenturnedbacktoPike.Hewasstrokinghimself,fillinginwhere
I’dleftoff.Forafewseconds,Iwasheldinsuspension,fascinatedbytheslide
ofthatstrongmalehand,bythetotallackofself-consciousnessashetookhispleasure.
Butthenasharpsmackhitmybacksideandsnappedmeoutofthespell.Iyelped,
morefromsurprisethananythingelse,andastingingheattracedoverskin.Ow
Pike’smouthhitchedupatthecornerashegentlyguidedmedownwardagain.“Close
youreyesandgiveyourselfovertoit,doc.It’llbeworthit.”
Despitemyburningrear,IlistenedtoPikeandclosedmyeyesasmymouthenveloped
himagain.Hetastedofsaltandmanandillicitfantasy—acombinationthathadmy
brainteeteringontheedgeofsomeplaceIhadn’tbeenbefore.Ididn’tknowwhat
thespankingwassupposedtoaccomplish,butIwantedtotrytodowhattheyasked.
Toletgoandseewheretheytookme.Fosterdeliveredanotherslaptomyopposite
cheek,andthestingingburnedjustasmuch.Ibarelybitbacktheurgetotellhim
tostop.Thenanotherlighteronecame,poppingmerightalongmyexposedfolds.This
timetheflashofpainwasfollowedbyahot,rollingwarmththatstartedlowand
surgedallthewayouttomyfingersandtoes.Imoaned,pressingmylipsharderaround
Pike’sshaftandearningashudderfromhim.
HolymotherofGod.Wasthatsupposedtofeelsogood?
MynerveendingstingledasFostercontinuedwithaquickvolleyofslaps—thebacks
ofmythighs,myass,mysexagain.Smack,smack,smack.Thesharpsoundsfilledmyears,andIstartedtolosecount.Chasingtheburning
stingwasarushofdesperate,clawingneedthatwasemptyingmybrain.Itwasas
ifIhadn’tjustorgasmedminutesbefore.Nolongercaringhowitmaylook,Ibraced
myselfagainstPikeandreacheddownwithmyfreehandtorelievesomeofthepressure
buildingbehindmyclit.
Eventheslighttouchhadmybodytensing,beggingforrelease.Islidmyfingers
alongthefoldsasFostercontinuedtospankme,thesharpbiteofthehitsonlydriving
mydesperationhigher.Mysexwasslickwitharousal,swollenwithneed.Itucked
twofingersinsidethewayIdidwhenalone,andmyinnermusclesclenchedaround
theinvasion.Ah,God.
“You’renotallowedtocome,”Fostersaid,hiswordslikeanironblockadetomyclimbing
need.“NotuntilItellyouto.”
Theforceofhistonesentmereeling.Myhandmovedbacktothebedasifonautopilot,
andmymindspunintotheyawningabyssofthemoment,mywholebodyridingtheedge
ofrelease.Icouldn’tclingtoanythingexceptthesoundofFoster’svoiceandthe
feelandtouchofthetwomen.Thestatewasdisorienting,likebeingsubmergedin
dark,oceanwaterandonlyholdingontoapieceofdriftwood.Butnofearentered
mysystem.Instead,IworkedharderatbringingPikepleasure,attakingallofhim.
Thedesiretopleasebeatthroughmelikeachant.
“Fuckinghell,”Pikegroaned.“Yes,likethat…sogood.”
Pike’sbellyroseanddippedaboveme,hisbreathgoingrapid,hismusclescoiling
tight.Aswelloffemininepowerwentthroughme.Iwasdoingthistohim.Foster’s
handssmoothedovermybackside,soothingthestingingskin.“Makehimcome,angel.
Letmeseeyousendhimoverthebrink.”
IswirledmytonguearoundthetipofPike’scock,myconfidencebuildingwithevery
stroke,andPike’sfingerspressedhardagainstmyscalpashishipsliftedoffthe
bed.Astrangledmoanwrenchedfromhim,andatthesamemoment,Fosterslidhisfingers
alongmyclit.
“Gooverwithhim,”Fostercommanded,hisfingersdeliveringaquickpinch,adevastating
blow.
Icriedoutasorgasm,sharpandinstant,ropedmeanddraggedmeunder.
“Ah,fuck,”Pikegroaned.Hiscockswelledagainstmytongue,andthenhewasspilling
hispleasureinsidemymouth,grippingmelikehe’ddieifIstopped.
Pleasurerolledthroughmelikesparkingelectricity,wakingupeverysensorysystem,
andmakingmewanttowrithe.ButIworkedPikeuntilI’dswallowedeverysaltydrop
ofwhathehadtooffer,lovinghistasteandabandon,lovingthewantonfeelingof
beingbetweenhimandFoster.
Afterbothofusdrifteddownfromthehigh,Pikeeasedawayfrommewithgentlemovements.
Iliftedmyhead,feelingdrunkonlust—satisfiedbutnotquitesated.Mybodystill
achedforonemorething.ThethingI’dneverhadbefore.
AndIonlywantedonemantogiveittome.
Pikehelpedmeoffmykneesandrolledmeontothepillowsnexttohim.Leaningover
me,hegavemeasmilethatcouldbreakeveryheartinitspath.Hepressedasoft
kisstomylips.“Thatwasamazing,doc.Thankyou.”
Mylipscurved,mybrainstillbuzzing,wordsnotforming.
PikeglancedatFoster,thenbacktome,brushingmyhairoffmyforehead.“I’mgoing
togiveyoutwosometimealone.Idon’tthinkFoster’squitedonewithyouyet.”
MygazeslidovertoFoster,whohadmovedtostandatthefootofthebed.Thequirk
ofhislipswaswry,butthehotblueofhiseyeswaspureanimal—likeawolfquietly
sizingupitsdinner.“Youreadyforme,angel?”
Mytonguedartedout,wettingmylips.Ready?God,I’dneverfeltmorereadyforanything
inmylifethanthismanandthismoment.Evenseeinghimstandingthere,allhard
muscleandproudarousal,hadmyskintinglinganew.“Yes,sir.”
Pikegavemeonemorequickkissontheforeheadthenclimbedoffthebed.AsPike
passedbyFoster,Fosterputahandonhisshoulder,haltinghim.Hewhisperedsomething,
andPikenoddedwithabrief,knowingsmile.
Icouldn’theartheexchange,butmythoughtsweretoolanguidtoevencare.AllI
knewwasthatwhatevercamenext,Iwouldn’tregretit.I’dwaitedmywholeadult
lifeforthismoment,andregardlessofhowthingsmayfeeltomorrow,howthelight
ofdaywouldchangethis,rightnownothingfeltmoreright.
NINE
FosterwaiteduntilPikehadclosedthedoorbehindhimselfbeforedaringtolookatCelaagain.Shelookedsoperfecttherelaidoutonthesoft
downcomforter,likeanakedangelperchedonacloud.Herdarkhairwasfannedout
behindher,afewstrandsstickingtoherdampforehead.Hewantedtokisseverybare
spotofskin,drawouteverykindofsoundshewascapableof.
Hehadn’tplannedtouseanyD/splaywithher,definitelyhadn’tintendedtospank
her.Heknewbetter.Bringinginkinkwithvanillagirlswasn’thisstyle,especially
withsomeoneassweetlyinnocentasCela.Butsomethinginherhadtuggedathisdominance,
hadcalleditforthlikeasorceress’sspell.Andthenhe’dseenhersink.
Subspacehadclaimedherlikeit’dbeensimplywaitingforhertoknockonthedoor.
Hermuscleshadgonelax,hervoicethready.Evenherpupilshadgonelarge.Andit’d
beenthesexiestfuckingthinghe’deverseen.
He’dbroughtwomentosubspacemanytimesinhislife,butneverhaditstirredup
theintensepossessivenessCelahadinspired.Thesecondhe’dseenhergounder,he’d
hadthedistincturgetodragherawayfromPike,tokickhisfriendoutoftheroom
altogether.He’dwantedheralltohimself.
Toownher.
It’dbeenadangerousthought.
ButwhenPikehadofferedtheopportunityforalonetime—somethinghe’dneverdone
inathreesomebefore—Fosterhadn’tbeenabletostophimselffromthankingtheheavens
fortheunexpectedgift.Andwhenhe’dtoldPiketonotcomebackuntilhegavethe
allclear,hisfriendhadonlysmiled.Likehe’dknownexactlythenatureofFoster’s
possessivethoughts.
NowCelawasallhis.Atleastforalittlewhile.
Hewalkednexttothebed,trailinghisfingersalongtheedgeoftheduvetandletting
hisgazetrackhotoverCela’sbareskin.Whenhereachedherside,hetracedafinger
aroundaduskynipple,bringingittoahardpoint.“Ilovehowresponsiveyouare.”
“Thankyou,sir,”shewhispered,hereyesclosingwhenhegavethelittlenubasoft
tug.
Hisalreadystiffcocktwitched.Thewordsirrolledoffherlushlipslikethey’dbeenmadetosayit.Therewasnoforcethere,
nothis-is-just-a-gamesmugness.Hedrewafingeralongthebowofherlips,remembering
howthey’dfeltaroundhim—theheaventhatwasCela’shot,eagermouth.
“Holdontotheslatsoftheheadboard,angel.Anddon’tletgountilItellyou.”
Herdarkeyesflaredwithheatandherlipsparted,butshefollowedhisdirective
withoutanounceofhesitation.Shewasslidingdeeper,hecouldseeitinthesoftness
ofherexpression,theloosenessofhermuscles.Ifthesimpleactofholdingthe
headboardsenthertothatlovelyplace,hecouldonlyimaginehowshewouldrespond
totruerestraints,torealroughness.Hisbloodhummedatthethought.
Maybeanothertime.
Butheknewtherewouldprobablynotbeanothertime.
Thiswasherwildridebeforeshewenthometoherreallife.He’dmadethemistake
ofreadingtoomuchintoawomanbefore,andhewouldn’tdoitagain.He’dbarely
survivedthefirsttime.
Heneededtoaccepthisroleforwhatitwas—thekinkyneighborshewasworkingout
afewfantasieswith.Butthatdidn’tmeantheybothcouldn’thaveafantastictime
tonight.
Oncehewassureshehadagoodgripontheheadboard,heclimbedontothebed,straddling
her.Thesoftcurlsofhermoundbrushedagainsthiscock,andhehadtosuppress
theurgetoburyhimselfinsideherthatinstant.Buthedidn’twantthistoendtoo
quickly.Ifheonlyhadtonight,hewantedtosavoreverypartofherlikefinewine.
Hebracedhisarmsonthesideofherandlaidsoft,wetkissesalongherneck,pulling
thedelicateskinintohismouthandtastingthebrininessofherexertion.There
werefewflavorsheenjoyedmorethanthesaltytasteofawoman’ssweatortears.
Helikedtobringbothforthwhenawomanwasunderhiscommand.
Celawhimperedsoftly,herbackcurving,ashemadehiswaydowntohercollarbone,
nibbling.Herbodybrushedagainsthis,petalsoftandburninghot,begging.Every
move,everysighshemadetestedhisownresolvetogoslowly.Butashefoundhis
waytoherbreasts,heknewrushingwouldbeacrime.Hernippleswerehardanddark
inthelamplightoftheroom,inspiringworship.Heloweredhishead,drawinghis
tonguearoundthepoint,bringinggoosebumpstothesurface,thengavethetreatment
totheotherside.
Shesquirmedbeneathhiminquietdesperation.Herknuckleswentwhitealongtheheadboard.
Hesmiledandtracedhersternumwithafeatherlighttouch.“Whatdoyouneed,angel?”
Herteethpressedintoherlip,hereyesclosed.“Ineedmore.Please.Sir.”
“Mmm,goodgirl,”hesaid,cuppingherbreast,lovingtheweightofitinhishand.
Headoredhowcurvyshewas.He’donlyimaginedwhatshelookedlikeunderthosescrubs
shealwayswore,buttherealitywassomuchbetter.Abodystrongenoughtowithstand
aroughhandbutbuiltforsin.Lushindulgence.“Youhavenoideawhatyoursweet
beggingdoestome.”
Heplumpedherbreastwithhishandanddrewthenippleintohismouth,teasingand
thensuckingwithenoughforcetomakeitcount.
“Oh,”shegasped,liftingintohistouch.
Herkneesparted,andthearomaoffemalearousaldrifteduptohisnose,wrapping
aroundhiscocklikeahotfist.Fuck,evenherscentwasmouthwatering,everybit
ofheredible.Hegavehernippleagentlebite,andthegrindingnoisethatescaped
fromthebackofherthroatnearlymadethetopofhisheadblowoff.
Ifhewaitedtoomuchlonger,hewasgoingtogoofflikesomeinexperiencedteenager.
Andeventhoughthethoughtofhersmooth,honeyedskinbeingpaintedwithhisseed
spoketohisdeep,primaldesiretomarkher,hewasn’tgoingtosettleforanything
lessthanbeinginsidehertonight.
Hekissedhiswaydownherbelly,thenlickedalongthecreaseswherelegmetpelvis.
Herthighsfellopenfurther,theultimateinvitation,exposingthesmoothlipsof
herpussy.Helovedthatshe’donlyleftatriangleofhaironhermound.Everything
elsewasblessedlypinkandglisteningwitharousal.Heusedthetipofhistongue
toteasetheswollenbuttonathercenter,andherbreathwentchoppy.
Hepulledbackwithasmile.“Notyet,angel.NotuntilIhavetheselegsofyours
aroundme.”
“God,yes,”shesaid,herbellyquiveringasshetriedtoreelherselfin,thenshe
stilledasifjustrealizingsomething.“Didyoubring—Ididn’t…”
“Shh,I’vegotit.”Hereachedforthecondomhe’dpulledfromhiswalletearlier
andsetonthesidetabletosheathehimself.“Youcanletgoofthebednow.”
Herarmsmeltedintothemattress,releasingtheheadboard,andsheraisedhereyelids
ashesettledhimselfoverher.Thelookwasoneofpuretrust,untaintedsurrender.
Hedidn’tdeserveit,buthewasn’tgoingtoquestionitrightnow.
“Youready,angel?”
“Youhavenoidea.”
Helaughedandpositionedhimselfatherentrance.Shewassowet,sohot,ashepushed
forward.Itshouldhavebeenasmoothglideofanentry.Butassoonashegotalittle
waysin,herbodyseemedtofighthim,theclaspofherheatsqueezinghimhard.“Fuck,
baby.You’retight.”
Henudgedalittle,andhecaughtthewinceshetriedtocover.
“AmIhurtingyou?”heasked,anarrowofworryshootingthroughhim.
Shecircledherarmsaroundhim,herholdonhimdeathlytight,likeshewasafraid
hewasgoingtogetupandwalkaway.“No.It’sjustbeenalongtime.Andyou’re…
big.Please,don’tstop.Justgoforit.”
“Idon’twanttoh—”
“Ihaveasafeword,”shesaid,apleadinglookinhereyes.“Please,Ineedthis.
Ineedyou.”
Anigglingconcernpressedatthebackofhisbrain,butthewayshefeltaroundhim
cloudedanycoherentthoughtshewastryingtohave.Heneededtohaveher,wanted
tofeelheraroundhim.Herockedhishipsforward,gentlyatfirst,thenwithabit
moreforce,pushingpasttheresistanceandburyinghimselfdeep.
Shecriedout,herheadtiltingbackandherbackarching.Hecouldn’ttellifit
waspainorpleasure.Hernailsdugintohisshoulders,andsheseemedtonotbreathe
foralongmoment.Heheldstill,afraidhewasdoingmoreharmthangood.“Tellme
you’reokay,Cela.”
Shetookabreathfinally,panting.“Yes.Please.Keepgoing.”
Heslidbackandplungedinsideheragain,thistimemeetingnoresistance—justthe
pureecstasyofbeingsurroundedbyherheat.
“Oh,God,”shemoaned,hergriponhimeasingandasoftnesssmoothinghertensefeatures.
“Yes…this.”
Andthatwasallheneeded.Hemovedinsideheragain,thefeelofherlikehotcashmere
aroundhiscock.God,shewassosnug,somaddeninglysexy.Hedidn’tknowifhe’d
everexperiencedsuchanintensefeeling.Sweetagonybledthroughhisveinsashe
pumpedintoherwithacadencethatbeliedtheurgentneedbuildinginhim.Hewould
notrushthis.
Hedidn’twantittoend,didn’twanttolosethebeautifulsightofherbeneathhim,
thepainedblissthatwascoloringherfeatures.“You’resobeautiful,Cela.Sofucking
perfect.”
Sheliftedherlashesandreacheduptotouchhisface,tobrushherfingersalong
hisstubble.Thetenderintimacyofthemovealmostundidhim.“Andyou’rebetter
thanthefantasy,Foster.”
Hedroppedontohisforearms,unabletobearanothersecondwithoutkissingher.His
mouthmethersinahungryrush,tonguesandlipsclashing.Shelacedherfingers
inhishairandpulledtight.Outofhisconsciouscontrolatthispoint,hiships
begintothrustintoherwithmoreforce.Shewhimperedintohismouth,andthebed
squeakedbeneaththemassweatglazedhisskin.
Hedidn’tbreakthekiss,butreachedahandinbetweenthemtofindherclit.The
momenthetouchedit,herpussygrippedhim,contracted.
“Comewithme,angel,”hesaid,liftinguponlyfarenoughtowatchherfaceandthen
pickingupspeed.
Heangledhishipstobrushhiscockoverherwhereheknewsheneeded,andstrummed
herclit.Along,grittymoanpassedherlips,andhefelttheprecisemomentshe
shattered.Itwasallheneeded.Hisballsdrewtightandtheall-encompassingexplosion
ofpleasureshotthroughhimlikeabullettrain.
Thesweet,eroticsoundsofherorgasmdancedaroundhim,drivinghimhigherashe
emptiedeverybitofhiminsideher,hisbodythrobbingandpulsing,allwithneed
forher.Justher.
Andtherealizationdidn’thithimthen.
Itdidn’tevenhithimasheliftedoffher,kissedherfaceallover,andeventually
tuckedherintoarobe.
Butthenhewentintothebathroomtotossthecondom.
Andsawred.
Andheknew,knewwhathadbeenhauntinghereyesintheelevator.
NeverhaveIever…
Heleanedagainstthebathroomwall,hisheartsinking.
FuckTEN
Irolledtotheleft,bumpingintotattooed,sleep-warmedskin.Theobstructionspunmyhazybrainintoconfusionforamoment.WherewasI?
WasIdreaming?Iblinkedinthepredawndarkness,findingPikesnoringsoftly,his
barebacktome.Mymindstumbled,thenrewound,thememoriesofthenightdropping
backintoplace.
AlongbreathpushedpastmylipsasIlaybackonthepillowsandrubbedmyeyes.
No,thishadbeennodream.Myachy,tenderbodypunctuatedthatconclusion.I’dactually
doneit—shovedpastallmyworryandinhibitionsandgottennakedwithnotjustone
oftheneighborsI’dbeenfantasizingabout,butbothofthem.AndI’dhadsexwith
Foster.Sex.Iwasavirginnolonger.Iwaitedfortheshametohitme.Themorning-after
regretI’dheardaboutfromfriends,butnonecame.
TheonlythingclawingatmewasthememoryofthewayI’dfeltwhenFosterhadheld
meandkissedme,thewayhe’dfeltfillingmybody.Thephysicaldiscomfortofit
hadbeenexpected,theinitialwaveofitbreathstealing.Butthatpainhadfaded
toasofthuminthebackgroundwhenmyeyeshadlockedwithhis.Somethingfardeeper
thanthesensationsmybodywasexperiencinghadpassedthroughme.Anintenseoneness
withhim.
It’dprobablybeenthesimplefactthathewasmyfirst.Girlswerewiredtogetromantic
notionsaboutthat,right?ButlaterwhenPikehadjoinedthetwoofusinbedagain,
Ihadn’tfeltthesamethingkissingandcuddlinghim.BeingwithPikewasfun—he
wassexpersonifiedandhemademelaugh—butIdidn’tgetthattightfeelinginmy
stomachwhenhelookedatme.
Iturnedtomyright,seekingthemanwhowasstirringuptheturmoilinme,butthat
sideofthebedwasempty.Ireachedoutandtouchedtherumpledsheets.Cold.
Ifrownedandsquintedattheclock—alittlepastfiveA.M.CarefulnottodisturbPike,Iscootedacrossthebedandclimbedtomyfeet,grabbing
therobeI’dthrownoverthehigh-backedchairinthecorner.Mybodyprotestedat
themovement,sorenessfullysettinginnow.Butinaway,Iwelcomedthediscomfort,
theproofthatthenighthadreallyhappenedandwasn’tsomefantasy.Afteraquick
triptothebathroom,Ipaddedacrosstheplushcarpetandslippedoutofthebedroom.
Thelivingroomwasstillintwilight,butthesilhouetteofamanstandinginfront
ofthelargewindowsdrewme.Fosterstaredoutatthecomingdawn,thelightsof
downtownDallasstartingtoblinkoff,preparingforthesun’sappearance.Heheld
amuginhishands,blowingacrossthetopofit.
Ihungintheshadowofthefarsideoftheroom,simplyenjoyingwatchinghim.The
musclesinhisbackshiftedandcaughtthelightasheliftedhiscoffeetohislips
andsipped.Therewasanelegancetohiseconomyofmovement,tohisstillness.His
browsweredrawnlow,hisprofileasculptureofdeepthought
Ialmostturnedbacktowardthebedroom,afraidtointerruptthesanctityofhisquiet
morning,butwhenIsteppedbackward,myrobebrushedanearbylampshade,sending
thelampchainclinkingagainstthemetalbase.
Fostertippedhisheadinmydirection,aslightturn,butdidn’ttakehiseyesoff
theview.“You’reupearly.”
Iwrappedmyarmsaroundmyself.“Saidtheroostertothechicken.”
Helookedatmethen,aquirkofasmile.“I’mnotsogoodatthesleeping-inthing.
HopeIdidn’twakeyou.”
“Youdidn’t.”Isteppedoutofthedarkandheadedtotheoversizedchairnearthe
window.WhenIsat,mybodyremindedmeagainofallI’dbeenthroughinthelast
fewhours.Buteventhetendernessofmybacksidehadaflashoflustzippingthrough
me.God,Iwasagluttonforpunishment.Sincewhenwaspainagoodthing?Itucked
mylegsbeneathmeandresistedtheurgetogoovertoFosterandkisshimgoodmorning.
“I’mnotsurewhatwokemeup.MaybePike’ssnoring.”
Fosterchuckled.“Don’ttellhimhesnores.ItwilldevastatehisMr.Suaveself-image.”
“Never.”Ipantomimedzippingmymouthshut.
Foster’ssmirkremainedinplace,butIsensedthislightheartedconversationwas
simplyprettydecorationontopofapileofcrapthatwasn’tbeensaid.Thelines
aroundhismouth,thewayhegrippedhiscoffee,eventhesetofhisshouldershad
mynervesrising,myfingersfiddlingwiththetieofmyterryclothrobe.Heknew.
Hereleasedalongsighandmovedawayfromthewindowtoperchonthearmofthe
couchacrossfromme.“Whydidn’tyoutellme?”
Istareddownatfidgetinghands.“Tellyouwhat?”
“Cela,”hesaidinthatcommandingtonehe’dusedinthebedroom.“Lookatme.”
Ahotquiverrippledthroughme,butIraisedmygazetohim.
Sharpdisapprovaledgedhisfeatures.“Youleftsomethingprettyimportantoffthat
listofyours.”
Mycheeksheated.“Iknow.I’msorry.Ididn’twanttosayanything.”
“Didn’twanttosayanything?”hesaid,hisexasperationloudinthedeadquietof
thehotelroom.“Cela,wecould’vehurtyou.Ifyouhadtoldme,Iwould’vebeengentler,
moretender.IhityouforChrist’ssake.”Hedraggedahandthroughhisalreadydisheveled
mopofhair.“Yourfirsttime’ssupposedtobesweetandromanticandI…”
“Stop,”Isaid,sittinguptallerinthechair.“Youdidn’thurtme.Andthisisexactly
whyIdidn’twanttotelleitherofyou.TheguyItoldyouabout,theonewhomade
funofme?Ihadgoneonafewdateswithhimandwhenthingsstartedtoheatup,
Ilethimknowbeforeanythinghappened.HelaughedandaskedifIwassomereligious
fanatic.Thenheleftbecausetakingagirl’svirginitywas‘tooheavy’forahookup.”
“Well,thankGodforthat.Thatidiotdefinitelydidn’tdeservetotouchyou.But
youknowIwouldn’thavedonethat.”
“Iknowyouwouldn’thaveteasedme,butyouwould’vebackedouttheinstantyoufound
out.”
“No,Iwouldn’t’ve.”
“Liar,”Isaid,frustrationbuildinginme.“Youjustsaidit.Everybodyhasallthese
notionsaboutwhatafirsttimeissupposedtobelike,anditfreakspeopleout.
Dudesareafraidthegirlisgoingtoclingtothemlikesomelet’s-be-together-forever
teenager,andgirlsareafraidthatiftheheavensdon’topenupandtheangelsdon’t
singthatit’salosing-your-virginityfailure.Ididn’twantanyofthat.”
Heshookhishead.“Whatdidyouwant?”
You,mymindwhispered,exactlywhathappened.Andangelshadsung.Ormaybethoseweredevils…Ikickedthethoughtaside.“Iwantedagood
time.IwantedtogetthatbigbrandedVoffmyresumebeforeIhavetogobackhomeandstartmyreallife.”
Somethingflickeredthroughhisblueeyes,likeabitingwindinawinterstorm.“A
goodtime.Right.Well,that’sourspecialty.”
Hestoodandwalkedbacktowardthewindow,dismissingme.
Theicinessinhisvoiceandstancecutthoughmythickrobe,chillingmyskin.The
shiftinhismoodhadmydefensesrising,angerwelling.“Isn’tit?Orareallthose
girlsI’veheardvisityourapartmentyour‘twuwuv’”
Hiswincewasalmostimperceptible,butIcaughtit.
Irosetomyfeet,armscrossed.“Behonest,Foster.IfIhadtoldyoulastnight
thatIwasavirgin,wouldyouhavesleptwithme?”
Hestaredoutthewindow,hisjawtwitching,andIthoughthemayignoreme.Butthen
afterafewlongseconds,hespunonhisheel,sethiscoffeedown,andstalkedinto
myspace.
Hisnearnesshadmythoughtsscattering,myemotionssplintering.Wordswouldn’tcome.
Hecuppedmyshoulders,agripthatvibratedwithrestrainedpower.“Idon’tknow.
ButifIhad,Iwould’vemadeitdifferent.Iwould’vemadeitspecialforyou,would’ve
takenmytime,goneslow.AndIcertainlywouldn’thaveinvitedPikeorusedanykink.”
Iswallowedhard,hisearnestspeechcurlingaroundme,makingmeacheforhimall
overagain.“Itwasspecial,Foster.Andyes,I’mnewatallthis,butwhatyoudid…howyouacted…”
“Wasirresponsible.”
“Washot.”
Hiseyebrowslifted.
“Iaskedyoutotakecontrol.Ididn’trealizeyouwouldtakeitwhereyoudid,but…
Ilikedit.Ifeltlostandsafeallatthesametime.Ineverexpectedsextofeel
likethat.Ihadanideawhatitwouldfeellikephysically.Iknowmywayaround
avibrator.Butthiswas…”Ipaused,notsureiftherightwordsevenexisted.
“Transcendent.”
Histhumbscaressedthecurveofmyshouldersashestareddownatme,hisheadtilted
eversoslightly,likehewasworkingoutsomeriddleinhishead.
Adoorsqueakedbehindme.
“Whythehellareyouguysupsofuckingearly?”Pikegroaned.“AndwhyamIalone
inacoldbed?”
Foster’shandsdroppedfrommyshoulders,andhesteppedback,themomentbroken.
“Sorry,wecouldn’tsleep.”
“Great,twoinsomniacs,”Pikemutteredandmadehiswayovertous.
Icouldn’thelpbutsmileathim,hisspikedhairflatononesideandhiseyelids
heavy.Helookedlikeanovergrownteenagershufflinginforbreakfast.Beforesaying
anythingelse,hegrabbedFoster’scoolingcoffeeoffthesidetableandswigged.
Grimaced.
“Creamisanoption,youknow,”hesaidtoFoster.
“Soisgettingyourowndamnedcoffee.”
Ilaughed.“Y’allhavelivedtogethertoolong.”
“Nofuckingdoubt,”Pikesaid,settingthecupdownandthenreachingforthebelt
ofmyrobe.HepulledmetohimlikeIwasafishonalineandwrappedhisarmsaround
mywaist.“Andhowareyouthismorning,gorgeous?”
Theembracewaswarm,affectionate,butsuddenlybeingthisclosetoPikefeltstrange.
EventhoughI’dhappilypleasuredhimlastnight,hadevencurledupwithhimwhen
I’dfallenasleepbetweenthetwoofthem,somethinghadchangedinthoseearlymorning
moments.Theattractionwasstillthere,butthedynamicwasaskew.Mygazeflicked
toFoster,whostoodlikeasentrybehindPike—stiffandstoic.
Somevulnerablepartinsidemewantedhimtointervene,topullmeintohisarmsinstead
oflettingPikeembraceme.ButthenIrealizedhowridiculousIwasbeing.Justbecause
FosterwastheoneI’dhadactualsexwith,itdidn’tmeanwehadsomethingdifferent
betweenusthanPikeandIdid.AllofthiswasexactlywhatIhaddescribeditas—a
goodtime.Naughtyfun.
Nobigdeal.
Right.
Ibroughtmyfocusbacktothemaninfrontofme.“I’mexhausted,butinthebest
waypossible.”
“Mmm,”Pikemurmured.“Iknowwhatyoumean,doc.Lastnightwasfantastic.”Hepeeked
overhisshoulder.“EventhoughFosterhoggedyouattheend.”
“Oink,oink,”Fostersaid,hisvoicetootighttodelivertheintendedhumor.
“Well,”Pikesaid,pullingthetieonmyrobeandslippingthehalvesopen,hishands
alongmywaist.“Whydon’twerectifythat?Ithinkthere’sabigol’hotshowerwith
ournamesonit.”
Despitefeelingabitoffbalance,Pike’ssofttouchagainstmyskinhadinterest
stirringinme.Andifmyheartwasgettingallmixedupbecauseitwaspullingthe
virgin-getting-attachedcard,maybeamorningwake-upcallwithPikewasjustwhat
Ineeded.
Iclosedmyeyes,tryingtoblockoutFoster,andleanedmyforeheadagainstPike’s.
“Thatsoundslikeagreatidea.”
“That’sourgirl,”Pikesaid,histonedippingintothatlow,sexualplacethatwas
impossibleformybodynottoreacttodespitethetug-of-warinmymind.“Comeon,
doc.”
Heguidedmetowardthebedroom,allsleepinessgonefromhisface.
Beforewecrossedthethreshold,hecalledbacktoFoster.“Showerfitsthree,my
brother.Door’sopen.”
ButwhenIsentonelastglanceFoster’sway,hehadn’tmovedaninch.PARTIII
NOTUNTILYOUCRAVE
ELEVEN
Thetriphomefromthehotelwaspainfullyquiet.IsatinbetweenFosterandPikeinthebackofthecab.Pikewasleaningagainstthewindow,
eyesclosed,halfdozing,andFosterwaslikeanautomatonversionofhimself—only
speakingwhenabsolutelynecessary.
Ihadnoideawhathadchangedinthespanofthelastfewhours,butmywildnight
outhadmorphedintosomethingdecidedlymoresomber.Ituggedontheshorttennis
skirtFosterhadboughtfromthehotelshoptosavemethewalkofshameinmywrinkled
dress.Thegesturehadbeenthoughtful,sweeteven.Buthe’dshirkedoffmythank-you
likehehadn’tevenheardme.
Anxietybubbledinmystomachatthethoughtofthegood-byethismorning.Whyin
God’snamehadIchosenmyneighbors?Lastnight,thecrush-drivenideahadseemed
ingenious.NowIrealizedhowstupidI’dbeen.Morning-afterawkwardnesswasbadenough,
buttherewasnowayIwasgoingtobeabletoavoidfacingthemregularlyduring
theselastfewweeksIwaslivinghere.
Thecabrolledtoastopatthecurbinfrontofourbuilding,andFosterpaidthe
driver.Heslidoutofthecarandheldhishandouttome,theconsummategentleman,
eveninhiscoolstate.OnceIwasonmyfeetandhadgrabbedmyplasticbagofdiscarded
clothes,ImovedtoletgoofFoster’shand.Butinsteadofallowingmetoescape,
hegatheredmetohisside,plantingahandatthesmallofmyback.
Isenthimacuriouslookbutlethimguidemetowardthedoor.Pikejoggedinfront
ofusandgrabbedthedoortoholditopenforthetwoofus.
“You’reahardmantoread,”Isaid,halfundermybreath.
“AmI?”Fosterasked,continuingtolookforwardasweclimbedthestairs.“Iwould
thinkI’mpainfullytransparentatthemoment.”
“You’reangry,”Isaid,speakingwhatIalreadyknew.
Hesighed,hisfingerspressingintomyback.“Notatyou,angel.Notatyou.”
“Weneedto—”Ibegan,butmywordslodgedlikepopcorninmythroatwhenIreached
thetopofthestairsandsawtheimposingfigureleaningagainstmydoorway.“Oh,
shit.”
FostertensedlikeaRottweilerspottingapitbullinhispath.“Whatthehell?”
Andreturnedaroundandspottedme,mybrother’sdarkeyesfillingwithrelief.“Marcela.
Jesus,you’reallright,thankGod,”hesaid,comingtowardme.
Butwhenhisgazejumpedtothemanbesideme,Andrerearedup,stiffened,andtook
onthatbadasscopposeIknewsowell.
IinstantlymovedawayfromFoster’stouch.“Andre,whatareyoudoinghere?”
Hestareddownatme,hiseyesjumpingtotheHotelSt.Markinsigniaonmypoloshirt,
thenbacktomyface.Icouldalmosthearhisteethgnashtogether.“Istoppedby
totakemybabysisteroutforbrunchtocelebratehergraduation.”
“Youcould’vecalled.”
Heraisedhishand,cellphonefacingout.“Idid.Fourtimes.Andyourhousephone.Youknowhowscaryitistohaveyoursistertellyoushe’sin
forthenightandthenshe’snowheretobefoundthenextmorning?Iwaspicturing
youdeadontheroadsomewhere,Cela.”
Iwinced.“Sorry.Idecidedtogoout.”
“Andnotcomehomeuntilthenextmorning,wearinghotelclothes?”
“Ireallydon’tthinkthat’sanyofyourbusiness,”Fostersaid,histonealmostbored.
Ofcourse,Pike,who’dstayedbehindtograbthemail,chosethatmomenttostepup
behindus.“Hey,doc,youforgotyourpurseinthecab.”
Iclosedmyeyes,wishingmybrotherwouldjustpoofintothinairandthatthiswas
somewakingnightmare.
ButwhenIopenedmyeyesagain,Andre’sfacehadgonered—afeat,consideringhis
skintone.“Tellmeyoudidn’t.”
“Andre,”Fostersaid,obviouslynonplussedbytheimposingforcethatwasmybrother.
“Isuggestyoutakeabreathandstoptalkingtoyoursisterlikeshe’sachild,especially
consideringtheglasshouseyou’reabouttothrowarockthrough.”
ThatcaughtAndre’sattention—andmine.Ilookedbetweenthetwoofthem.Andre’s
eyesnarrowedashestudiedFoster.“Iknowyoufromsomewhere.”
Fostersmirked.“Yeah,youdo.”Heleanedoverandkissedmycheek.“Let’stalklater.”
Inoddednumbly,notsureexactlyhowthesetwocouldpossiblyknoweachotheror
whatFoster’scommenttoAndrehadmeant.“Sure.”
Pikesentmeanapologeticsmile,handedmypursetome,andthenbothmendisappeared
intotheirapartment,leavingmetherewithAndre.
Theminutethedoorshut,myfistscurledaroundtheplasticbagIwasholding.“I
cannotbelieveyoujustembarrassedmelikethat.Whatthehelliswrongwithyou?”
Ishovedpasthimandstabbedmykeyintothelock.Andrewasrightbehindme,following
meintotheapartmentlikeadarkcloudfloodingtheroom.“Youhadmefuckingworried,
Marcela.I’vebeeninanearpanictryingtofindyou.Andthenyouwalkin,dressed
inclothesthataren’tyourswithnotjustonebuttwostrangedudes.”
“FosterandPikearen’tstrangers.”
“Fosterand…”Hepaused,alightswitchseemingtofliponinhisbrain,and
grimaced.“Ah,fuckme.”
“What?”
“Nothing.Whatareyouthinkinghangingoutwithguyslikethat?”
Itossedmykeys,purse,andbagontothekitchencounter.“Thisisnotyourbusiness.”
“They’regrownmen,andyou’re,you’re…”
“Agrownwoman,Dre,”Isaid,exasperated.“DespitewhatyouandPapáseemtothink.
Theyevenletmevoteandpaytaxes.Canyouimagine?”
“Don’tbeasmartass.Youhadmereadytocallhospitals.”
Isighed,thelackofsleepsettlingonme,andloweredmyselfontooneofmybarstools.
Mybodywasstilltender,andItriedtocovertheinevitableflinch.
Andre’slipswentwhitefrompressingthemtogethersohard.“Didthosejerkshurt
you?Becauseiftheydid,Iswear—”
“OhmyGod,”Isaid,pressingtheheelofmyhandtomybrowbone.“Stop.Ofcourse
theydidn’t.AndIamsonotdiscussingthiswithyou.”
ThelastthingIwantedtodowastalkaboutmysexlifewithmybigbrother.Itwas
awkwardenoughgrowingup,watchinggirlscompletelythrowthemselvesathim.And
I’dwalkedinonhimincompromisingpositionsmorethanoncenotrealizinghehad
agirlover.MyparentshadwillinglyletAndrehavedatesover,andhecoulduse
therecroomwiththedoorclosed.ButwhenIwantedtoevenhaveaguyfriendover,
itwaslivingroomonly,parentsonguard.
“Look,I’msorrythatyouwereworried.Myphonedied,andIdidn’thavemycharger.
Ididn’tthinkitwasabigdealbecauseIwasn’texpectinganyonetocallthisearly.
ButwhatIdowithmypersonaltimeisnoone’sbusinessbutmine.Howwouldyoufeel
ifIbargedintoyourplacedemandingdetailsaboutyourlovelife?Whydon’tyou
tellmewhosleptinyourbedlastnight?”
Andrelookedaway,somestrangeflickercrossinghisfeatures—guilt?Butfinallyhe
ranahandoverthebackofhishair,atelltalesignhisangerwasdeflating.“Fine.
You’reright.Thatwasn’tfair.”
Itippedupmychin.“Thankyou.Nowcanwestartoverandpretendthelastfiveminutes
didn’thappen?”
“I’lltry.”Hepulledhisphonefromthepocketofhisjeansandcheckedthetime.
“ButIthinkwe’vemissedbrunch.ItoldEvanandJacetogoonwithoutmewhenI
couldn’tfindyou.”
“Bummer.Ihaven’tseenthosetwoinawhile.Aretheyengagedyet?”
Andrefrowned,adarkcurtainfallingoverhisface.“Notofficially.”
Andrelivedwithhisbestfriend,Jace.AndEvan,Jace’sgirlfriend,hadmovedin
afewmonthsago.“Youknowwhentheymakeitofficial,you’regoingtohavetofind
anewplace.IknowyoulikelivingwithyourBFFandall,butyou’vegottofeel
likeathirdwheelnow.”
Heshovedhisphoneinhispocket,shiftinglikehisclotheshadsuddenlygottentoo
tightforhisbody.“It’scomplicated.”
“Ah,don’tdothattoyourself,Dre.”Islidoffthestoolandpattedhisshoulder
onmywaytothefridge.
“Dowhat?”
Igrabbedtwobottlesofwaterandtossedonetohim.“Iknowyou’vegotacrushon
Evan.I’veseenhowyoulookatherwhenyoudon’tthinkanyone’swatching.”
Heunscrewedthecap,hisgazeshuttered,andsippedthewater.“It’snotlikethat.”
Isighed.“Iknowwejustagreedtonotmeddleineachother’spersonallives.But
yougotonefreeshotatme,sonowI’mtakingmine.Don’tmessthingsupwithJace
foragirl,allright?Yourfriendshipismoreimportantthatthat.”
“Dulynoted.”Heswiggedanothersipofthewater,thensetitonthecounter.“Tell
youwhat.HowaboutIletyoucatchuponsleepandweplantohangoutanothertime?
Thingsarealittlecrazyatworkrightnow,soI’mtiedupforawhile.Butwe’re
throwingalittlebirthdaypartyforJace’sbrother,Wyatt,theFridaybeforeyou
leave.Evan’scookingandeverything.Youin?”
IbumpedtherefrigeratordoorclosedwithmyhipandthankedtheheavensthatIwas
goingtobeabletogocrawlinbedinsteadofsocializingonthreehours’sleep.
“Soundslikeaplan.”
Hesmiledandsteppedforward,cuppingthebackofmyheadandplantingakisson
thecrown.“AndIguessifyouwanttobring…afriend,youcan.”
Icouldtelltheoffercosthimsomething.Imanagedasmirkandignoredthelonging
achethesuggestionstirred.Afterthismorning,Ididn’tknowifI’devenspeakto
Fosteragain.“Thanks.Butuh,it’snotlikethat.”
Andreclosedhiseyesbrieflyandshookhishead.“Oh,Iwishtherewasamachine
tohelpyougobackintimeandun-knowthings.”
Ishovedhisshoulder.“Growup,bro.Ihave.”
WithaGod-give-me-strengthsigh,heturnedandheadedforthedoor.“Trytostay
outoftrouble,Marcela.”
Igavehimmybestchoirgirlsmile.“Always.”
—
Fosterstretchedoutonthecouch,hisheadboomingandfrustrationwrappingaroundhimlikeitchyrope.Itwasprobablyagoodthingthat
Pikehadgonetosleepinhisroom,becauseFosterwasspoilingforafight—anunjustified
one—butatthispointhedidn’treallycareaboutdetailslikethat.WhenPikehad
puthisarmsaroundCelathismorning,Fosterhadwantedtoslughim.He’dalsowanted
CelatopushPikeaway,tocometohim.
Butinsteadofanyofthathappening,Fosterhadjuststoodtherelikeanasshole
andletitallhappen.Celahadgoneofftotheshowertododevilknowswhatwith
hisbestfriend,andhe’dstayedtherefrozentothespot.Forabreathofamoment,
FosterhadfoundhimselfimaginingmorewithCela.Thewayshe’ddescribedherexperience
submittingtohimhadlitsomethinginsidehim,hadawakenedthedesiretohaveher
underhishandforlongerthananight,toshowherwhatthatkindofpowerexchange
couldreallybelike,tobringhersubmissionfullytothesurface.
Butifhe’dhadanyillusionsaboutherevenconsideringsomethinglikethat,they’d
beenannihilatedtheminuteshe’dlefttheroomwithPike.Lastnighthadbeenexactly
whatshe’dsaid—agoodtime,awaytolosehervirginity,aone-offwildnight.The
wholereasonshe’dchosenthemwasbecausetheywerelowrisk.Nofeelings.Noattachment.
Shewasleavinginafewweeks,andheandPikehadmadeanofferthatfitthoserequirements
perfectly.
Andnowhewasgoingtohavetoleaveitatthat.Nowaywashemessingwiththat
rattlesnakeofasituationagain.He’dtriedoncebeforetowooagirlwhowanted
avanillalife.Darcyhadbeensubmissive,he’dseenitplainasdaywhenthey’dplayed.
Butshe’donlywantedtoexplorekinkforfun—forkicks.She’dhadapreacher’sdaughter
upbringingandhadwantedtorebel.
Ofcourse,Fosterhadn’trealizedthatwhilehewastumblingintotheloveabysslike
anidiot.Pikehadwarnedhim,buthehadn’twantedtohearit.HeandDarcyhaddated
forayear,andhe’dbeensureshewastheoneforhim,meanttobehis.Finally,
someonewhowouldstayinhislife.He’dthoughttheonlyhurdlewouldbeconvincing
herthatshecouldhaveeverythingshewantedevenifshefullyembracedthesubmissive
rolewithhim.Butit’dallbeenanillusioncreatedbythatlonely,hopefulkidthat
lurkedinsidehim.
Ontheirone-yearanniversaryhe’dofferedDarcyaringandacollar.She’doffered
himagood-bye.
Lessonlearned.
Fosterpressedhisthumbstohisforehead,tryingtoexorciseboththeheadacheand
thebadmemories,butaloudbanginginterruptedtheeffort.“Fuck.Notrightnow.”
Butthesharpknockingcameagain,andFosterpushedhimselfupandoffthecouch.
Herubbedhishandsoverhisfaceashemadehiswaytothedoor,toomentallydrained
tofacewhatheknewwasgoingtobeontheotherside.
Heswungthedooropenandsteppedaside,lettingtheimposingforceofAndreMedina
strideinside.Fosterdidn’tknowAndrepersonally,hadneverspokenwithhim.But
heknewofhim,knewhewasinthetightinnercircleofGrantWaters—ownerofTheRanch,the
BDSMresortFosterbelongedto.AndFosterhadwatchedAndrescene.
“Sure,comeonin,”Fostersaiddryly.
Andrespunaround,armscrossed,pissed-offcopfaceinplace.“Believeme,thiswon’t
takelong.”
Fosterscrubbedahandoverhisstubble.“Guessyoufiguredoutwhereweknoweach
otherfrom.”
ThemuscleinAndre’sjawtwitched.“Thedifferentnamethrewme,butyes.Ian.”
“Outsideofthosewalls,everyonecallsmebymylastname.”
Andredidn’tevenseemtohearhim.“Sowhat’syourgame?”
Fosterwalkedaroundthebreakfastbar,headingtowardthecoffeepot.Hedidn’thave
theenergyforthisconversationwithoutmorecaffeine.“Idon’tknowwhatyou’re
asking.”
“Yourkink,Foster.Isitgoingaftervanillagirls?Becausethat’sabouttheonly
reasonIcouldseewhyyou’remessingwithmybabysister,”hesaid,angerrippling
likeadeadlyundertowbelowhiscalmtone.
Fosterscoopedcoffeeintothefilterandpouredthewaterin,refusingtosnapat
thebaitAndrewaswaving.SparringwithCela’soverprotectivebrotherwasn’tgoing
togetanyoneanywhere.AndwiththefoulmoodFosterwasalreadyin,afistfight
wasadistinctpossibilityifAndregotinhisface.Lastthingheneededtodowas
takeaswingatacop.FosterhittheOnbuttontostartthecoffeethenturnedaround
tofacehisuninvitedhouseguest.
“I’madom.ButI’msureyoualreadyfiguredthatout.Andno,goingaftervanilla
girlsisn’tahobbyofmine.Lastnightwasn’tplanned.Andwhathappenedshould,
frankly,benoneofyourgoddamnedconcern.”
Andreputhishandsonthebreakfastbar,palmsflat,andleanedforward.“Maybenot,
butI’maskingyou,man-to-man,tostayawayfromMarcela.She’sleavingsoonand
doesn’tneedanycomplicationsinherlife.She’sworkedhardandhasanicelife
waitingforherbackhome.Iknowhowguyslikeyou—likeus—canaffectawomanwho’s
innocenttoourworld.Itcanbeoverwhelmingandexciting,canmakethemquestion
whattheywant.Don’tdothattoCela.Haveaflingwithsomeoneelse.”
BeingtoldwhattodobyanyoneraisedFoster’shackles,buthecouldn’tdenythe
truthinAndre’swords.EvenifCelahadwantedsomethingmorethanlastnight,which
sheobviouslydidn’t,it’dbeirresponsibleforhimtoopenupthatsubmission,expose
it,withonlyafewweekstogether.Discoveringthatsideofyourselfbroughtupa
lotofshit,evenforadominant.Comingtotermswiththosefeelingsandurgesoften
tooktimeandasupportsystem,someonetoguideapersonthroughthepitfalls.
Theideateasedathimlikethescentofforbiddenfruit.He’dlovetobetheone
toleadCelathroughthat,uncoverthelayersofsubmissioniflastnighthadn’tbeen
aflukeandthatneedwastrulythere.Hegrippedthecounterbehindhim,tryingto
getaholdonhisquicklyderailingthoughts.“Youhavenothingtoworryabout.Cela
isagreatgirl,butI’mlookingforalong-termsub.Isteerclearofvanillagirls.
Usually.LikeIsaid,lastnightwasn’tplanned.”
Andrestraightenedandnodded.“Good.I’mgladwe’reonthesamepagethen.”
Fostersmirked.“SoIguessCeladoesn’tknowanythingaboutyour…proclivities.”
Forabriefmoment,thehardened-copactflickered,andAndre’sshouldersdippedas
ifheavyhandswerepushingdownonthem.“No,shedoesn’tknowanyofit.Shewouldn’t
understand.Myfamilywouldn’tunderstand.AndI’dappreciateitifyoudon’tsayanythingtoher.”
Thecoffeepotbeeped,butFosterkepthisattentiononAndre.Fosterknewwhatit
wasliketohavetohidepartofyourself.AndfromwhatheknewofAndre’ssituation,
theguywashavingtohideahelluvalot.“Iwouldn’t,butCelamaybemoreunderstanding
thanyouthink.”
Frownlinesetchedhisface.“Seeyouaround,Foster.”
Andwiththat,hewasoutthedoor.
ThesecondMedinatowalkawayfromhiminaday.TWELVE
“Youokay,boss?”
“Hmm…”Fosterturnedawayfromthecomputerscreen.
Lindy,hisassistant,noddedtowardhiscomputer.“You’reonthesamenewspaperarticle
youwereonwhenIstoppedinherehalfanhourago.”
“Oh,right.”Herubbedahandoverthebackofhisneck.“GuessI’mhavingtrouble
focusingtoday.”
“Roughweekend?”sheasked,settingthetake-outlunchhe’dorderedonthecorner
ofhisdesk.
“Youcouldsaythat.”Rough.Amazing.Frustrating.
Lindyliftedafilefolderinherotherhandandwaggleditintheair.“Thisshould
cheeryouup.TheyfoundthatlittlegirlinOhiolastnight.Scaredtodeathand
hungrybuttotallyunharmed.She’dwanderedoffandgottenlostinthewoodsoutside
ofherneighborhood.TheHomeSafebraceletledthemrighttoher.”
“ThankGod.”Awashofreliefwentthroughhim.Nomatterhowmanytimeshegotthat
kindofnews,eachsuccessfuloutcomewasatriumphtobecelebrated.Andhehadto
hangontothosebecauseheknewhowmanysimilarstoriesdidn’twrapupwiththat
kindofhappyending.“Thatabsolutelydoescheermeup.”
“Thefathercalledinafewminutesago.Hewantedtoknowwhathecoulddotothank
youorhelpgetthewordoutaboutourproducts.He’salreadymentionedusintheir
localnewspaper.”
FostertookthefilefromLindyandopenedit.Thebigsmileoffive-year-oldMadison
Doregreetedhim.Hetouchedthephoto,thememoryofanotherlittlegirlalwayshovering
attheedgeofhismind.Onewhohadn’tbeenfound.Heclosedthefilequickly.“Tell
himthere’snoneedtothankus.Butifhereallywantstohelp,hecanmakeadonation
ofbraceletstoalocalschoolorhecandoatestimonialforthewebsite.”
“Awesome.I’lltellhim.AndI’lladdherpicturetotheboard.That’sfifteenthis
year.Andthetenthforthebraceletsalone.”Shedidalittlefistpump.“Goteam!”
Helaughed.Hisassistant’senthusiasmwasoneofthemainreasonshe’dhiredher.
Therewereoftendarkdaysat4N.Thesituationstheymadeproductsforweren’thappy
ones.Sotheofficeneededallthepositivityitcouldget.“Beenhittingthecoffee
hardtoday?”
Lindygaveasheepishsmile.“DietMountainDew,butyeah,probablyneedtolayoff
abit.”
“Goeatsomething,absorbsomeofthatcaffeine.”Hegrabbedthebagoftakeout.“I’ve
gotanarticletoread.”
“Thekeyistoreadleft…to…right,”shesaid,talkingslowlylikehedidn’t
understandEnglish.
Hetossedaballofpaperather.“Out,minion.”
Lindyshuthisofficedoor,andhepulledouttheroastbeefsandwichshe’dbrought
in.Butrightashewasabouttotakehisfirstbite,hiscellphonerangwithafamiliar
thrashingdrumbeat.Hesighedandpressedthespeakerbuttononthephone.“Hey.”
“Whoa,youactuallypickedup,”Pikesaid,thesoundofcarnoiseinthebackground.
“Itriedtocatchyoubeforeyouleftthismorning,thentriedtocall.”
“Ihadalotwaitingformehere,hadtoleavealittleearlyandthengotcaught
upinsomething.”Hetookabiteofhissandwich,notwantingtohavethisconversation.
“Uh-huh.You’repissedatme.Igetit.”
“Hmm?”heasked,thenoisemuffledbyhishalf-fullmouth.
“Don’tbeadick.You’vebeenavoidingmesinceSaturday,”Pikesaid,noireinhis
voice.“Look,man,ifyoudidn’twantmetotouchheragain,youshould’vesaidsomething.
Iwould’vebackedoff.Youjusthadtosaytheword.”
Fostersethissandwichdown,thebitehe’dtakenturningtosawdustinhismouth.
“Thatwasn’tmyplace.Idon’thaveanysayoverher.Youtouchedher,shedidn’t
tellyouno.That’sthat.”
“Right.SoifIgohometodayandheadovertoherplaceforalittleafternoondelight,
you’retotallycoolwiththat.”
Hisfistclenchedaroundhissoda,nearlybustingthedisposablecup.“DoitandI’ll
fuckingcastrateyou.”
Pike’sloudlaughechoedfromthespeaker.“Man,IloveitwhenI’mright.”
Fostergrunted.“That’sbecauseit’ssorare,it’sworthyofcelebration.”
“Touché.Sohaveyoucalledher?”
“Icheckedinwithheryesterdayjusttomakesureshewasokay.”
Hesniffed.“Checkedonher?Whatthefuck?Becausesexwithyouissoearth-shattering
sheneededafollow-up?”
Fostergrabbedthephonetotakeitoffspeakerandleanedbackinhischairwith
asigh.“No.BecauseCelawasavirgin.”
“What?A…”Pike’swordstrailedofflikethetermvirginwassoforeign,hecouldn’tevenspeakitaloud.“Holyshit.”
“Yeah.Ididn’trealizeituntilitwastoolate.”
“Jesus.”FostercouldpicturePikeshakinghisheadindisbelief.“Thatchick’sfucking
brave.Losingyourvirginityinathree-way?That’sarock-starmoverightthere.”
Fostertiltedhisheadbackandstaredattheceiling,tryingnottothinkofCela
walkingintothatbathroomwithPike.Hecouldn’tgettheimageoutofhishead.He’d
stoodthereanddonenothingevenwhenshe’dlookedbackathimwithquestionmarks
inhereyes.Whatanasshole.Insteadofsteppingupandtellingherhedidn’twant
hertogo,he’dlethisegowin.He’dwantedhertoturndownPike,tocometohim
onherownvolition.
“Soareyougoingtotakeheroutagain?”
Hewantedto.God,didhewantto.Ifnothingelsethantogiveherthenightshe
should’vehadforherfirsttime.“There’snopoint.YouknowIdon’tdatevanilla
girls.”
“Shedidn’tseemallthatvanillathisweekend,”Pikelobbedback.
“Andshe’sleavinginafewweeks.”
“Yeah,theleavingpartkindofsucks,”hesaid,histoneresigned.“Butareyoujust
goingtoignorewhathappened?Imean,youtookthechick’svirginity,man.Shouldn’t
therebesomesortofsomethingafterthat?Adebriefingorwhatever.”
Fostersnorted.“Adebriefing?”
“What?Idon’tknowthefuckingtermforit.Butwalkingawayandpretendingitdidn’t
happenisadickmove.EvenIknowthatmuch.”Acardoorslammedinthebackground
andtheconnectiongotfuzzywiththewind.“Ifyou’renotgoingtosaysomething
toher…”
“I’lltakecareofit,”Fostersaid,cuttinghimoff,irritatedthatPikewaspointing
outeverythingthathadbeendrivingFostercrazyoverthepasttwodays.Likehe
didn’tknowitwasashitmovethathe’dbarelymanagedafewsentenceswhenhe’d
calledtocheckonCelathenextday,orthathe’dchangedthetimeofhisrunthis
morningsohewouldn’tbumpintoher.
Therewasaswiftraponhisdoor.Lindystuckherheadinside.“Sorrytointerrupt
butthere’sanAgentLongfromtheFBIonthelineforyou.”
Foster’sgriponhisphonetightened,thatfamiliarsickfeelingatthementionof
acallfromtheFBIeclipsinghisruminating.FosteronlytalkedtoAgentLongabout
onceayearandusuallyitwastogetano-newsupdate.ButFosterhadjusttalked
tohimamonthago,andthemannevercalledhim.“Pike,I’vegottago.Important
call.”
HehittheOffbuttonandnoddedatLindy.“Puthimthrough.”
Afewsecondslater,Fosterpickeduphisofficephone.“AgentLong,what’shappened?”
Longdidn’twastetimewithgreetingsorniceties.“Wemayhavealead.”
ThebreathgustedfromFoster’schest.Howlonghaditbeensincehe’dheardthose
words?Thecasehadbeencoldforsolonghe’ddoubtedhe’deverhearthemagain.
“Whatkindoflead?”
“It’snotmuch.Butaguardoverheardsomejailhousetalkthisweekend,anamewas
dropped,anickname,andsomedetailsthatseemedtofitthecase.Theyearswould
workout.”Heclearedhisthroat,andtherewasthesoundofshufflingpapers.“We’re
goingtogoinandquestiontheguy,seeifwecangethimtogiveusmore.ButI
wantedtogiveyouaheads-up.”
Foster’sstomachtwisted,thedesiretohavetheknowledgeaboutasstrongasthe
desiretowanttocoverhisearsandneverknow.“Thanksforcalling.”
“Doyouwantmetonotifyyourparents?”
“No,”hesaidquickly.“Untilyouhavesomethingsolid,letthembe.”
“Iunderstand.I’llgetintouchwhenIknowmore.”
“Thankyou,AgentLong.”
Fosterhungupthephoneandtossedhissandwichinthetrash,hisappetitegoneand
arestlessneedtodosomethingproductiveburningthroughhim.Work.That’swhat
hecouldcontrol.Hecouldn’tcontrolwhetherornotAgentLongcouldfindwhatthey
needed.Hecouldn’tcontrolthathisparentsprobablywouldn’ttakehiscalleven
ifhetriedtocontactthem.Andhecouldn’tcontrolhowthingshadgonedownwith
CelaFridaynight.Butthisoffice,thepeopleinit,theservicestheyprovided—that
hehadultimateauthorityover.
Hepressedabuttononhisphone.“Lindy,lettheR&DdepartmentknowthatIwant
abriefinginanhouronwherewe’reatwiththesmartphoneapp.”
“Anhour?But,sir,theysaidthey’renotquitereadyto…”
“Tellthemtofigureitout.”Hehungupthephone,feelingashredbetter.
Takingthereinsalwaysmovedthingsbackintoplaceinsidehimself,whetheritbe
atworkorbehindcloseddoors.Hedidn’tlikevariablesandunknowns.Didn’tlike
surprises.Andafterallthesurpriseshe’dexperiencedwithCelaFridaynight,he
wasdesperatetodosomethingthatwouldputhisworldbackintotherightboxes.
Hedidn’tneedatemptationlikeCelashufflingeverythingaroundinhisbrain.
He’dtalktoher.Thatwastherightthingtodo.
Butit’donlybetosaygood-bye.
—
Isatonthetopofthepicnicbenchinthegrassyareanexttomybuilding,enjoyingthesunshineandtheveryun-Texas-likeseventy-degreeday,
andthrewtherubberballGeraldhadhandedme.Gerald’sMaltesemix,Sammi,took
offlikeshe’dbeenlaunchedfromacannontochasedowntheball,hertailwagging
soharditwasonlyablur.Igrinned.“Ilovethatitnevergetsoldfordogs.Same
gameoverandoverandthey’rehappy.”
GeraldsmiledashewatchedSammitumbleinthegrasswhenshepouncedontheball.
“Yeah,shelovesrunning.Ifeelbadthatshe’scoopedupmostoftheday.I’mhoping
tobeabletorentahousewithayardonedaysoon.”
“Youcouldalwayslookforadogwalkerorasitterforherwhileyou’reatwork.
Alotofcollegestudentsdoitforcheap.”
“Doitforcheap,huh?”Heturnedtome,hisblondhairfallingintohiseyesand
thecornerofhismouthcurling.“Youvolunteering?”
Forsomereason,thequestionmadethebackofmyneckprickle.Ishookofftheodd
feeling.“Nah,I’mleavinginafewweeks,soI’mnotagoodcandidate.ButIcan
giveyouafewnamesofmyclassmatesifyou’dlike.Myfriend,Bailey,hasdoneit
forafewfamilies.”
“Leaving?”Gerald’ssmiledropped.“Well,damn,Ididn’tknowthat.I’mgoingtohave
totakeyoutodinnerbeforeyouheadout.Thankyouforalltheadviceyou’vegiven
meaboutSammi.”
“Uh,I—”
“Shecan’tdothat,”afirmmalevoicesaid.
Istartledatthesuddeninterruption,thenspunaroundtofinditssource.
Geraldturnedwithme,scowling.“Excuseme?”
Fosterstoodbehindthepicnictable,armscrossed,laptopbagslungoverhisshoulder,
andafierceexpressiononhisface.“Youaskedherout.Isaidshecan’tgo.”
Istaredathim,dumbfounded.
“Andwhothehellareyou?”Geraldasked,anedgecreepingintomyneighbor’snormally
affabledemeanor.
“Notyourconcern.”Hisgazeslidtome.“Comeon,Cela.”
Irearedupathisbossytone.Allthesedayswithbarelyaphonecallandnowhe
wasgoingtoordermearound?Screwthat.“I’mplayingwithGerald’sdog.”
Foster’smouththinned.“Ithinkhewantsyoutoplaywithmorethanthat.”
Myjawfellopen,andGeraldjumpedtohisfeet.“Thefuck’syourproblem,asshole?”
GeraldstalkedtowardFoster,butFosterdidn’tmove.Hesimplystaredthecoldest
stareI’deverseenapersongiveanother.Evenmybloodchilled,andthelookwasn’t
directedatme.
“Yes,please,”FostersaidsmoothlyasGeraldneared.“Givemeareasontohityou.
I’dsoenjoythat.”
Geraldhalted,clearlydisconcerted.“Look,man.Idon’tknowwhatyourproblemis,
butdon’tfuckingthreatenme.Youdon’tknowwhoyou’redealingwith.”
“IknowexactlywhoI’mdealingwith.”Hepinnedmewithhisgaze.“Buttherewill
benoproblemaslongasCelacomeswithmeandyoudon’tevertalktoheragain.”
“Shedoesn’thavetogo—”
“Holdup.”Thiswasgoingdownhillfast.Sammiwasbarkingatmyfeet,andFoster
lookedasifhecouldtrulykillGerald.Ihoppedoffthetable,myhandsoutinfront
ofme.“Bothofy’alljustcalmdown.I’llgo.”IlookedtoFoster.“I’llgo,all
right?”
Geraldstraightened.“Ifthisguy—”
“It’sfine.He’safriend.”IsteppednexttoFoster,andheimmediatelygraspedmy
elbow,asifafraidI’dchangemymind.Ihadnoideawhatwasgoingonwithhim,
butthelastthingIwantedwasabrawloutsidetheapartmentcomplex.“I’llseeyou
later.Bye,Sammi.”
Thedogdidalittlespinandyappedhappilyinreply.
“Let’sgo.”Fosterturnedmewithhimwithoutanotherwordandledmetowardthebuilding.
ButIwasn’tlettinghimgetawaywithoutanexplanation.Assoonasweclearedthe
lobbydoors,Iturnedtowardhim,shakinghisgrip.“Whatthehellwasthat?Have
youlostyourmind?”
“Youdon’tneedtotalktothatscum,”hesaid,thedisgustclearonhisfacebefore
heturnedtoclimbthestairs.
Ifollowedbehindhim,seeingred.“Excuseme?DidImissthepartwhereyouhave
therighttotellmewhoIcantalkto?”
Hespunaround,twostepshigherthanme,expressiongrim.“GeraldMondaleisaregistered
sexoffender.Heusedtobeahighschoolteacheruntilafreshmangirlcameforward
withmolestationcharges.Hegotearlyparoleonatechnicality.”
Mystomachdipped.“OhmyGod.”
Fosterclimbeduptherestofthestairs,andItrailedbehindinstunnedsilence.
Gerald?TheneighborI’dchattedwithalmostweeklyabouthissweetlittledog?When
webothreachedthehallway,Fosterturnedbacktofaceme.“IknowIdon’thavethe
righttotellyouwhototalkto.ButwhenIsawyouwithhim,heardhimmakeapass
atyou,Iwantedtochokethewordsrightoutofhim.Promisemeyou’llstayaway
fromhim.”
Mythroatwasknottedanddry,thepost-dangerrushofadrenalinefillingmyveins.
ButImanagedtonod.“Sure,yeah,Ipromise.”
Hegaveaswift,matchingnod.“Good.Thankyou.”
Istaredathimforafewlongmoments,thefrom-a-distancecrushI’dhadforhim
beforeFridaynightnowmorphingintoadesperatelonginginsidemychest.Iwanted
tostepforward,pressagainsthim,loosenthattiefromaroundhisneckandwipe
thattenseexpressionoffhisface.ButeverythingabouthimsaidIwasn’tinvited.
Itoremygazeawaytoglancetowardmyapartmentdoor.“Well,Ibettergetgoing.”
“Cela…”hesaid,hisgentletonetearingintome.
God,whydidthatmakemewanttocry?Whatthehellwaswrongwithme?I’dseenPike
inthehallwayearlierwhenIwasheadingout,andithadn’tbeenlikethisatall.
Iforcedmygazebacktohis.“Soisthiswherewehavetheawkward‘let’sstillbe
friends’conversation?”
Hefrowned.“It’snotlikethat.”
“Right.SoifIaskedyouoverfordinner…”
Heglancedaway,hisguiltlikeafoginvadingthesmallhallway.
Ishookmyhead,moredisgustedwithmyselfforaskingthequestionthanhisresponse.
“Seeyouaround,Foster.”
Beforehecouldrespond,ifhehadevenplannedtorespond,Iunlockedmydoorand
shuthimout.
Thestupidtearscamethen.
Somuchfornotgettingmyfeelingsinvolved.
Epic,one-night-standfail.THIRTEEN
Fosterlayinhisbedinthedark,staringholesintotheceiling.Thefanwasonhigh,thechainclink-clink-clinkingagainstthebase,buthewasstilltoohotandrestlesstosleep.He’dheardCela
comeintoherroomaboutanhourearlier.TheTVhadgoneonforawhile,thenoff
again.Sohewasalltooawarethatshewasrightthere,beneaththesheets,barely
afootbehindhishead.
It’dbeentwodayssincehe’ddoneeverythingwronginthehallway.Nowhewasconvinced
shewasavoidinghimasmuchashewasavoidingher.Itwasjuvenileofhim.He’d
neveravoidedawomanhe’dsleptwith.NotevenDarcyaftershe’drippedhisgoddamned
gutsout.He’dhadawkwardbefore,butneverhadheexperiencedthebrutalassault
onhisrestraintthatCelacaused.Beinganywherenearherflippedallhisfucking
switches.Whenhe’dseenherwiththatscumbag,Gerald,he’dbeenreadytokillthe
guyforevendaringtobreatheonCela.Hehadn’tevenhadtimetoformfullthoughts—all
he’dseenwasred.It’dtakenallhehadtogiveCelaachancetocomewillinglyinstead
ofsimplypickingherupandhaulingheroverhisshouldersohecouldgethersafe
assoonaspossible.
Theninthehallway,she’dgonepale,shakenbythenewsofGerald’sbackground.Everything
aboutherhadcalledtoFoster.He’dpicturedhimselfcrowdingherspace,kissing
awaythatfear,anddraggingherintohisapartmenttomakeherforgetaboutitall.
Buthe’dstayedgluedtothespotandhadturneddownherinvitetocomeover.His
knuckleshadachedfromclenchinghisfistssohardtoholdhimselfback.Aftershe’d
goneintoherapartment,he’dstoodinthehallwayforafullfiveminutes,staring
atherfuckingdoor.
Pathetic.
Herolledontohisside,yankingthesheetoffhislegsandclosinghiseyes,trying
towillhimselftosleep.Butthelouddingofhisphonehadhimliftinghishead.“Whatthehell?”
Hegrabbedforhisphone,pawingaroundinthedark,andflippeditover.Atextmessage.
Hesatuponhiselbow.
FortheloveofGodpleaseturnoffwhateverismakingthatannoyingsound.
Heblinked,once,twice,shockedatthenameofthesender.Hepeekedatthewall
behindhim,thentappedamessageback.
Sorry.Crappyfan.Willturnoff.
Heclimbedoutofbedandhittheswitch.Hisphonedingedagain.
Thx.HopeIdidn’twakeyou.
Hesankbackontohispillows,hearingthewordsasiftheyweresaidinthatspice-laced
voiceofhers.Hetypedback.
No.Can’tsleep.
Heheldthephoneinhishands,wonderingifshewasgoingtorespond,halfhoping
shewould,butknowingthiswasmerelyaneighborlytransaction—themodernequivalent
tobangingonsomeone’swallandtellingthemtokeeptheracketdown.
Whennothingappearedonthescreen,hereachedovertosetthephonebackonthe
bedsidetable.Butassoonasheputitdown,theperkynoisefilledthesilenceagain.
Countsheep?
Hechuckledandtappedbackamessage.
Thosebastardsfellasleephoursago.Gottiredofallthatjumping.
Therewasasoftsoundfromhersideofthewall.Hadhemadeherlaugh?Thethought
warmedhim.Hisphonedingedagain.
Icouldsingyoutosleep.
Hestaredatthewords,notregisteringthemforamoment.Itwassooutoftheblue
thathedidn’tknowhowtoreact.Hetypedback:
Using?
Formerchoirgirl.??
Ofcourseyouare.
Watchthevirginjokes,smartass.
Helaughedoutloud,knowingshecouldprobablyhearitonhersideofthewall.Somehow
beinginthedark,havingthatthinbarrierofdrywallandwoodbetweenthemmade
italleasier,liftedsomeoftheweightfromthelasttimethey’dseeneachother.
I’dlovetohearusing.
Therewasalongpausebeforeherreply,butwhenitcame,itwasasimpleone.
OK.
Hecouldalmostsensehertakingadeepbreath,buildinguphernerve.Then,asif
puttinganeedletoarecord,theslightlymutedsoundofhervoiceleakedthrough
thewalls.Alow,hauntingmelodyfilledhisears,andheinvoluntarilyclosedhis
eyessothathewouldn’tmissanyofit.Hecouldn’tpickoutthewords,butitwas
vaguelyfamiliar,somethinghe’dheardbefore.Anditwasbeautiful,hervoicestrong
andunbroken,asoundbefittingthenicknamehe’dgivenher—angel.
Andheknewthiswassupposedtobeputtinghimtosleep,soothinghim.Butinstead,
hefelthisbodypricklingwitheachnote,awarenessbrewinginhisnerveendings
ashervoicestrummedthroughhim,strokinghissenses.Hecouldpictureherthere,
sittingupinbed,wearingprobablynexttonothingbecauseithadtobehotinher
roomaswell,andbeltingoutthatsong.Asongthat,thoughhecouldn’thearthe
lyrics,spokeoflongingandneed.Loneliness.
Thosefeelingsbledthroughhim,mirroringhisown,andtightnessbuiltinhischest—like
ropebeingwrappedaroundhimandcinched.Hisbodywentunbearablyhot.Toomuch
moreandshewasgoingtodrivehimtomiddle-of-the-nightmadness.Thesexy,throaty
soundofherlastnotesdriftedthroughthebarrierbetweenthem,andhereachedup
topresshispalmagainstthewall,feelingthefaintvibrationofherwords.
Whenallhadgonesilentagain,heopenedhiseyesandtookabreathbeforelifting
hisphoneagain.
Thatwasbeautiful,Cela.*inawe*
Thx.Diditmakeusleepy?
Itmademehard.Butofcoursehewasn’tgoingtotypethat.
Yes.
Liar.
Heranhisthumbalongthesideofthephone,knowingheshouldn’t,butunableto
stophimself.
Urright.Itmademewantyou.
Fullminutespassedashestaredatthescreen.Shewasn’tgoingtorespond.He’d
givenherthecoldshouldertwodaysagoandnowwasmakingapassather.Hewasafuckingdick.Hewasabouttotypebackanapologywhenhisphonedinged.
I’veheardthat’sgoodforsleeptoo.
Herubbedahandoverhisfaceandclimbedoutofbedwithagroan—paced.Buthis
goodsenseandself-controlhadleftthebuildingfifteenminutesago.Hell,whowas
hekidding?Thosetwothingshadn’tbeenaroundsincethemomenthe’dinvitedCela
overtotheirapartment.Thegirlundidhim.
Therewasasofttapfromherside.Hestoppedatthespotonthewallwhereit’d
comefromandleanedhisheadagainstit,imagininghermirroringhimontheother
side,staringbackathimwithasmuchlongingasheknewresidedinhiseyesright
now.Heliftedhisphone.
Invitemeover,Cela.
Anotherlongstretchofapause,then:
Isn’tthatagainstone-night-standrules?
I’mgoodatmakingrulesnotfollowingthem.
Hisphonesatsilent.Herolledtothesideuntilhisbarebackwasagainstthewall.
Hisheartwasthumpinghardagainsthisribs,everythinginhimwillinghertorespond.
Hehadnoideawhathadgottenintohim.Itwaslikebeingafuckingteenagerall
overagain,waitingforthegirlhelikedtocallhimback.Thiswasn’thisstyle.
ButallheknewwasthatonetimewithCelahadn’tbeenenough.Thiswasabadidea.
Aselfishone.
Whatthehellwasheplanningtodowithheranyway?Hewasn’tevensureheremembered
howtohavevanillasex.
Hisphonedinged.
Idon’twanttofollowthemeither.
Hetossedthephoneonthebed.
—
Thiswasstupid.Iwasstupid.Stupid.Stupid.Stupid.
WhatinthehellhadmademethinktextingFostertonightwasagoodidea?I’dlain
inbedforoveranhour,listeningtothatincessantfannoisethroughthewall,unable
tosleepbecauseIcouldn’tstopreplayingFridaynight.ThewayFosterhadtalked
tome,howhe’dfeltagainstme,thesensationshe’dcoaxedoutofmybody.I’dlived
mywholedamnlifewithouthavingsex,andnowI’dhaditonceandcouldn’tstopthinking
aboutit.Abouthim
Andfreakinghell—ifIwasn’tmistaken,I’djustmadeamidnightbootytext.Iflipped
myphoneinmyhandoverandoveragainasIwalkedtheperimeterofmyapartment.
It’dbeenatleasttenminutessinceI’dsentthelasttext.I’dmanagedtobrush
myteethandpullonapairofboxershortstopairwithmySPCAcharitywalkT-shirt,
butthatwasaboutasmuchprepasIcouldmanage.SomeseductressI’dmake.
Andthiswasaterribleideaonsomanylevels.First,Iwassendingthemessageto
FosterthatIwasthekindofgirlwho’dmakelate-nighthookupcalls.Andsecond,
I’dalreadybeenstrugglingwithmyfeelingsaboutFridaynight.Touchinghimagain
wasonlygoingtomakeitworse.ButIcouldn’twalkawayyet.Evenwhenhe’dbeen
haulingmeawayfromGerald,actinglikeanoverbearingtyrant,I’dwantedtofreaking
meltathisfeet.
God,howfuckinglame.Whowasthisperson?Ididn’tactlikethis.I’dneverlost
myshitoveraguy.
Maybethiswasjusthowsexaffectedpeople.Maybethat’swhymyfriendsgotsoinsane
whentheywerepursuingsomeonenew.ButsomehowIcouldn’tbringmyselftobelieve
it.EventhoughI’dbeenavirgin,I’ddatedafewguyshereandthere.Andthethings
I’ddonewiththemhadfeltabsolutelynothinglikebeingwithFoster.Everything
seemedtobeamplifiedwithhim—bathedinneonandpulsingcolor.Icouldn’tturn
offthedesire.
Ifreakingcravedhim.
Thesharpraponmydoormademeyelp.Islappedmyhandovermymouth,hopingto
Godhehadn’theardthat,andmademywaytothedoor.Afterone,two,threebreaths,
Iswungitopen.AlltheoxygenI’dsuckedinwhooshedoutofme.Fosterstoodthere
asdisheveledasI’deverseenhim—blackhairstickingupinafewplacesandfalling
overhisforehead,afive-o’clockshadowturnedfullstubble,andhisT-shirtwrinkled.
I’dnever,everwantedtotouchsomeonesodamnmuch.
“Youshouldneveropenyourdoorwithoutthechainon,especiallyatnight,”hesaid
inaserioustone.
Iblinkedattherandomcomment,stillbreathlessfromthefactthathewasreally
here.“Iknewitwasyou.”
Hesteppedforward,fillingupthedoorway,andputhishandsonmyshoulders.“Always
double-check.”
“Right,”Isaid,stillalittlefoggybrained.
“Promiseme.”
“Ipromise.”Atthatmoment,Iwould’veprettymuchpromisedhimanything—money,sex,
myfirstbornchild—anythingaslongashishandsstayedonmeandhekeptlooking
atmelikethat.
Henoddedandwithoutanotherword,backedmeupintotheapartment,kickingthedoor
shutbehindhim.Hiseyesdevouredmeinonelong,sweepingglance.
Self-consciousnessswampedme.“Sorry,Ididn’tgetachancetochange.Idon’treally
haveanythingthat…”Issexy.Worthy.Grown-up.“Isn’tthis.”
“Hush,Cela,”hesaid,hisvoicelikeawarmgustinbitterwinter.“Neverapologize
forhowyoulook.I’vespenttwohourslyinginbed,unabletosleeporcooloffbecause
Iwasimaginingyouontheothersideofthewalllookingjustlikethis.”
“Sloppy?”
“Fuckable.”
“Oh.”Mybodywenthotallover,hiscrudenesspressingsomeunknownbuttoninside
me.
Heclosedhiseyesandtookadeepbreathbeforeopeningthemagain.Igotthesense
hewasreelinghimselfbackin.“Sorry.”
“Forwhat?”Iwhispered,mybrainstillhummingfromthepreviouscomment.
“Nevermind.”
ThenIrealizedwhathewassaying.“Please.Don’tcensoryourselfbecauseofme.
I’minexperiencedbutnotinnocent.”
Hesteppedcloserandcuppedthebackofmyneck,thefirmtouchsendingbranching
boltsofawarenessthroughme.“Youareinnocent,angel.Morethanyouevenrealizebecauseyoudon’tevenknowwhatyou
don’tknow.ButGodhelpmeifthatdoesn’tmakemewanttodoreally,reallybad
thingstoyou.”
Iswallowedhard,everynerveinmybodystandingatattention,begginghim.“Show
me.”
Somethingflashedinthoseblueeyes,predatory,buthehiditquicklyandbrushed
asoftkissovermylips.“Nottonight,angel.TonightIwanttoshowyouwhatafirst
timeshouldbelike.”
FOURTEEN
FostersweptmylegsrightoutfromundermebeforeIhadachancetoprocesswhathe’dsaid.Onesecondhislipswereonmine,thenextIwas
cradledagainsthischest,andhewasmovingtowardmybedroom.Hisheartbeatwas
ahard,steadythumpagainstmyside—utterlycalm—whereasminewastryingtocrack
aribandtearthroughmychest.
Heturnedbothofusinthehallwayandpushedmybedroomdooropenwithhisfoot.
I’dleftalamponandhadhastilymadethebed,butIstillcringed,knowingthere
wasapileofdirtylaundryinthecornerandboxeswaitingtobepackedstackedagainst
thewall.Itdefinitelywasn’tanopulentsettingliketheroomattheHotelSt.Mark.
“I’msorryIdidn’tgetachancetocleanup.”
Foster’sgazedippeddowntome,amused.“Firstruleoffirsttimes—theyusuallyoccur
inless-than-romanticsurroundings.It’spartofthedeal.ButIlovethisroom.Red.
Ineverwould’veguessedyou’dpicksuchaboldcolor.”
Ismiled.“MaybeI’mmoredaringthanyougivemecreditfor.”
Hesetmedownonthebedandcockedaneyebrow.“Angel,youwenttoahotelroom
withtwoolder,obviouslydemandingguystoloseyourvirginityinathreesome.I
haven’tmetagirlwithmoregutsthanthat.”
IleanedbackonmyelbowstoenjoythegloriousviewashetuggedoffhisT-shirt.
Fosterwasinmyroom,gettingnaked.Mybraincouldhardlyprocessthat.“I’mnot
thatbrave.Ididn’tsleepwithPike.”
Fosterpaused,hisheadoutoftheshirtbuthisarmsstillwrappedinit.“Holdup.
Youdidn’t?”
Iattemptedacasualshrugeventhoughabsolutelynopartofmefeltcasualorrelaxed
rightnow.“Wejustendedupchattinginthebathroomwhilewetookturnsshowering.”
Fosterdidn’tsmile,didn’tcomment,buthiseyesglintedwithsomethingthatmade
mystomachflip.Hefinishedtuggingoffhisshirtandtosseditaside,thenhewas
crawlingontothebed,animposingfigureloomingoverme—oneI’dlaininthisvery
bedandpicturedabovememoretimesthanI’deveradmitto.
Thecoolmaterialofhisathleticpantsbrushedmybarelegsasheinsinuatedaknee
betweenmytightlyclenchedthighs.Hisdarkhairfellacrosshisforeheadashis
eyescrinkledaroundthecornersandthehardlengthofhiserectionbrushedagainst
myhip.“Relax,angel.I’mnotgoingtomakedemandsonyouthistimeorhurtyou.”
“Youdidn’thurtme,”Isaid,mywordshardlyawhisper.Iwasbreathingtoohard,
headywiththesmellofhisskin,tomanagemuchelse.“Notonpurpose.”
Heloweredhishead,findingthecurveofmyneckandkissingmethere.Thesoftpress
ofhismouthmademynipplesgohardagainstmyT-shirt.“Ihityou,Cela.Hardenough
toraisewelts.Andbelieveme,itwasverymuchonpurpose.”
Ishiveredashenippedatmycollarbone.“Idon’trememberthepain.”
Justthepleasure.Thegrind-my-brain-into-useless-bitspleasure.
Heliftedup,hiselbowsbracedalongsideme,andgavemeasearchinglookbefore
theveilslidoverhisexpressionagain.“Areyoustillsorefromtheothernight?”
Iknewhewasn’taskingaboutthespankingthistime.Ireachedupandloopedmyarms
aroundhisneck,relishingthefreedomtonotjustlookbuttouchhim.“Totallyrecovered.”
Hissmilewasslow,wicked.“Good.Inthatcase,youhavefartoomanyclotheson.”
HeliftedmeupabitandeasedmyT-shirtovermyhead,thenletmefallbackto
thebed.Hispupilswentblackinthelamplightashegazeddownatmeanddrewthe
tipofhisfingeraroundoneofmynipples.Imoanedatthefeatherlighttouch.
“Ilovehowsensitiveyouare,”hesaid,offeringthesamegentletouchtotheother
side.“Theslightesttouchmakesyoushiverandflush.It’sbeautifultowatch.”
Ialmostadmittedthatevenalookfromhimmademeshiver,butIknewrevealinghow
muchheaffectedmewouldonlymakemelooklikesomegirlwithamadcrush.Hell,
Iwasagirlwithamadcrush.“You’regoodatthetouching.”
Helaughedsoftlybeforeleaningdowntotakemymouthinalong,languidkiss.His
barechestpressedagainstmine,thelightdustingofhairteasingmysensitiveskin,
andhislipstookcommandofmine.Unliketheurgenthungerofourfirstfewkisses
together,thisonewaslikealazysummernight,makingeverythinggoslowandwarm
insideme.Hetastedoftoothpaste,andIsmiledagainsthismouthatthethought
ofusbothrushingintothebathroomafterthetextmessagetoeraseallsignsof
midnightbreath.SomehowIfoundthehumannessofthatcomforting.Hereinmybedroom
hewasn’ttheuntouchablesophisticatedbusinessman,justFoster—aguywhowasmaybe
tryingtoimpressmeasmuchasIwashim.
ButIcouldn’tholdontothethoughtforlongbecauseFoster’shandswerecupping
andkneadingmybreasts,andhistonguewasslidingalongmineinawaythathadmoisture
gatheringfastbetweenmythighs.Iliftedmyhipsagainsthis,andhiserectionpressed
hardagainstme.Hegroanedintothekiss,bitingmybottomlip.Hisfingersduginto
myribs,hardenoughtomakemegasp.
Hisgripinstantlyreleased,andhebrokeawayfromthekiss,breathless.“Sorry.”
“It’sokay.”Islidmyhandsintohishair.Everypartofhimthatpressedagainst
mewastense,asifhewastheonlythingstandingbetweenmeandsomeavalanche.
“Please,don’tstop.”
Heturnedhisheadintomypalmandkissedit.“Notachance.”
Hegraspedmywristandtrailedkissesdownmyinnerarmuntilhereachedmyshoulder
andgaveitagentlebite.IclosedmyeyesandworriedImightsimplysinkintothe
sheetsandnevergetoutofbed.Aslongashekeptdoingwhathewasdoing,Icouldn’t
imagineanythingworthgettingdressedforagain.Iwantedtostayhere,beneathhim,
feelinghismouthonmine,hisbodymoldedagainstme.
Foster’smouthworkeddownovermysternum,touchingandtastingandteasing.Then
hislipswereclosingoveranipple,suckingfirmlyenoughtomakesharpboltsof
pleasureshootdownwardandmakemyclitthrob—asiftheerogenouszoneswereconnected
bysomeinvisiblewire.Ishiftedrestlesslybeneathhim,andheclampedahandover
mythigh.Histongueflickedmynippleagain.“Staystill,angel.Letmeenjoyyou.”
“I’mtrying,”Isaid,desperationlacingmyvoice.“Maybeyoushould’vetiedmedown
orsomething.”
Hisheadlifted,hisgazedarkwhenitmetmine.“Don’ttemptme.”
Myvocalcordsseemedtotwistandknot,thatdangerouslookofhisnotunlikethe
scaryonehe’dgivenGerald.Onlyinsteadofthisonechillingme,itmademeburn.
“Yes,sir.”
Hiseyebrowlifted.“Ididn’taskyoutocallmethattonight.”
“What?”Mymindscrambledforamoment.ThenIrealizedwhathadrolledoffmytongue—some
weirdautomaticresponse.Sir.“Oh,right,sorry.”
Hisjawtwitchedandsodidhiscock,rightagainstmythigh.“Liebackandrelax.
OneruleI’mbreakingaboutfirsttimestonightisthatyougettocome.Often.”
Beforetheohevenslippedpastmylips,hedraggedmyboxersdownmylegs,leavingmeinmywhite
cottonbikiniunderwear.IrememberedtoolatethatIprobablyshould’veswitched
thoseforsomethingsexier—notthatIhadanythingreallyimpressive.ButbeforeI
hadtimetostressaboutit,IsawtheheatflareinFoster’seyes.Hedraggedaknuckle
alongthefrontofmyunderwear,thematerialclingingtomywetskin.“You’reso
fuckingsexy,Cela.Evenmoresobecauseyouhavenoidea.”
Heprobablysaidthattoallthegirls—anexperiencedguywhoknewhowtosaythe
rightthing.ButsomehowIcouldn’tfinditinmyselftocare.Withthewayhewas
lookingatme,Ifeltfuckingsexy.Powerful.“You’renotsobadyourself.ThoughIhaveafeelingyou
knowexactlyhowcrazyyoudrivewomen.”
Hegrinned,unrepentant.“Women?Oryou?”
Ilickedmylips.“Me.”
Hehookedtwofingersinthewaistbandofmypantiesandslidthemdown,leavingme
completelybarewhilehestillworealow-slungpairofblacktrackpants.“Believe
me.Thefeeling’smutual.Allthosenightsyoumadethosesexysoundsonthisside
ofthewall…Ican’teventellyouwhatthatdidtome.”
Thecornerofmymouthlifted.“Iprobablyhavesomeidea.Remember,I’velistened
toyou,too.Though,yournoisesweren’talwayssololikemine.”
Hiseyesliftedtomineanddarkened,asherangentlehandsalongmythighs.“Did
thatbotheryou?”
Iwantedtolookawaybutcouldn’t.Ialsowantedtosaynoandbrushoffthequestion,
butIcouldn’tdothateither.Thatstareofhiswaslikefeedingmetruthserum,
makingitimpossibletolie.“Partofmewasjealous,thoughIhadnorighttobe.”
“Hmm,”hesaid,histouchtrackinglower,closertowhereImostneededtobetouched.
“Andtheotherpartofyou?”
Heatspreadupmyneck.“Theotherpartofmewasturnedon,picturingitall.Picturing
you.”
“Wanttoknowasecret?”Twolongfingersslidinsideme,makingmegaspwithpleasure.
“Iknewyoucouldhearus.”
Myeyelidsflutteredshut,hisstrokingfingersmakingitimpossibletoconcentrate.
“Youdidn’tcare.”
Thebeddippedashesituatedhimselfbetweenmythighs,allwhilecontinuingtotouch
deepinsideme.“Oh,angel,Icared.Ilikedknowingyouwerelistening—probablya
littletoomuch.”
Histongueslidalongmyfolds,makingmearchagainsthismouth.God,howwasIsupposed
toformsentenceswhenhewasdoingthat?“Youlikedtotortureme?”
Hechuckledagainstmyskin,hissoftpuffsofbreathmakingmydampskintingleand
tighten.“Torture’safavoritepastimeofmine.”
Hewastorturingmerightnow,thattalentedmouthofhishoveringrightabovemy
needyflesh.Itriedtoliftmyhipsupward,andheheldmefirmagainstthebedwith
hisfreehand.ButbeforeIcouldletlooseawhimperofprotest,heloweredhishead,
andhistonguewasbackonme,hisfingerspumpinginsidemeintimewiththehot
assaultofhismouth.
“Oh,God,”Iwhispered,thetiderisinginsidemelikeaflashflood.Igrabbedfistfuls
ofhishairandcantedmyhipsagainsthim,ridingthegrowingwavesofsensation.
Howcouldhebringmetothebrinksofast?Everythinginsidemefeltreadytocrack
openalready.Isqueezedmyeyesshut,tryingtobreathethroughit,butwhenhecurled
hisfingersinwardandsuckedmyclitbetweenhislips,lightflashedbehindmyeyelids
andasharpcryburstfromme.Heheldontomewithhisfreehand,keepingmyorgasm
goinguntilIthoughtI’ddiefromtheintensityofsensation.Thenhewaseasing
awayandlettingmesinkbackintothebed.
Iliftedmyheavylids.Hewastherebetweenmyknees,smilinglikeawickedgod—beautiful
anddangerous.Hebroughthisglisteningfingerstohismouthandsuckedthemclean.
Themovemademystillthrobbingsex,clench.“You’regoodatthetortureandthe
rewards.”
Heslidhiswetfingeralongmybottomlip.“Bothcanbefun.AndmaybeIwould’ve
feltalittleguiltyaboutyouhavingtolistentomehadInotheardyougetting
offwheneverIwasdonewithsomeoneelse.You’readirtylittlevoyeur,CelaMedina.”
Thewordsfelloverme,chillingsomeofthebloomofwarmthfromtheorgasm.Dirty.Thatinevitablestabofhumiliationwashedoverme.Hewasright.Whatwaswrong
withme?TheguyIlikedhadbeenscrewingotherwomenontheothersideofthewall,
andeventhroughthejealousy,Ihadn’tbeenabletostopmybody’sreaction.Listening
wouldmakemyskinflush,mypantieswet,andIwouldn’tbeabletosleepuntilI
touchedmyself.“God,youmust’vethoughtIwaspathetic.”
Hisgriponmyhiptightened,displeasuremarkinghisfeatures.“Cela…”
Iputmyhandsovermyface,unabletohandlethatjudgmentalstarerightnow.The
glowoforgasmwasfadingfast,andtherecklessabandonofbeingtooturnedonto
careshutdown.Suddenly,thetruthofthesituationwasthere,swoopingin.Andas
ifit’dbeenlyinginwaittoclaimmeafterallofthecrazycrapI’ddonesince
graduationnight,shameenvelopedme.Onceagain,Iwasfourteenandintherecroom
atmyparents’house,mymotherhavingaconniptionbecauseshe’dcaughtmelooking
atanaughtysiteontheInternet.Thewordsdepraved,perverted,andsinfulbeingthrownmyway.I’dbeendraggedtotheconfessionboothatchurchbeforethe
sunhadsetthatday,mymother’swordsringinginmyears.Whatwereyouthinking,Marcela?Imagineifyourfatherhadseen.
AndI’dfeltwrong,soverywrong,fornotjustlookingbutalsolikingwhatIsaw,
feelingmybodystirandheatatthescenesportrayed.It’dbeenthefirsttimeI’d
feltseparatefromthatnice,obedientgirlI’dbeenraisedtobe—differentandother.
Bad.
ItriedtorollfrombeneathFoster,butheslappedmythighwithasharppop.Igasped,
thepainsnappingmeoutofmymemoryandfreezingmeinplace.Butstill,Icouldn’t
facehim.
“Lookatme,Cela,”Fostercommanded.
Ishookmyhead,myhandsstayingovermyface.
Hegrabbedmywristsandpriedmyhandsaway,pinningthemalongsidemyhead.His
facewasinchesfromminewhenIforcedmyeyesopen.“Don’tyoudarebeembarrassed.”
“Foster,please,Ican’t.”Ifocusedoverhisrightshoulder,unwillingtomeethis
eyes.
Hereleasedoneofmywristsandcuppedmyjaw—nonetoogently—guidingmygazeback
tohis.Thefirmgripbothshockedandfocusedmeallatonce.“Listentome.You
willnotliehereandfeelashamed.That’sunacceptable,angel.”
Iblinked,stunned—bothattheferocityofhistoneandtheinstantohyesmeltingreactionofmybodyunderhis.God,whatthehellwaswrongwithme?Hewas
pissedandpinningmedown,andIwasgettinghotter?
“OfcourseIneverthoughtyouwerepathetic.Ithought—think—you’rethesexiestdamn
womanI’veeverseen.I’mavoyeur,anexhibitionist,andalaundrylistofotherthingsthatwouldprobably
makemostpeoplewanttolockmeupinapaddedroom.IshouldbetheoneworryingthatI’mgoingtofreakyououtwiththethingsthatget
megoing.Sodon’tyoudareapologizeforwhatturnsyouon.Ever.”Histhumbgrazed
mypartedlips,aglimmerofgentlenessdespitehisfirmhold.“Youunderstand?”
Iclosedmyeyes,tryingtofindmybreathandmyvoice.“Yes.”
Heletoutabreathandreleasedmyjaw.“Openyoureyes,Cela.”
Icomplied,findinghisdarkbluestarewarmanddeterminedinthelamplight.
Hetookthewristhe’dpinneddownandbroughtmyarmdowninbetweenus.Hepressed
mypalmalongtheheatofhiserectionthroughthesoftmaterialofhispants.Instinctively,
Iclosedmyfingersarounditshardlength,needfiringinmeanew.“Thisiswhat
youdotome.FeelhowmuchIwantyou.You’renotpathetic,you’remaddening.”
Thewordswrappedaroundme,soothingthevulnerableplacesthathadcrackedopen
andstokingtheembersofmydesireforhim.SomehowFosterknewexactlywhattosay
anddotobringmebackfromthebrinkofpanickingandremindingmethattheonly
onejudgingmewasme.Istrokedalonghiserection,theheatofhisskinsearing
meeventhroughthefabricofhispants,andfelttheshuddergothroughhim—thequiet
rumbleofhisowndesireradiatingoutwardandmakingthemusclesofhisarmsand
chestflexandrippleaboveme.
“Whatgetsyougoing,Foster?”Iaskedsoftly,desperatetoknowwhathewasholding
back,whathethoughtwouldfreakmeout.“What’sonyourlist?”
Hissmilewasruefulasheliftedup,shuckedhispants,andpulledacondomoutof
thepocketbeforetossingthemtotheside.“Rightnow,numberoneistofuckyou
untilyoumakethosenoisesIlovetohearsomuch.”
“Goodplan,”Isaid,alittlebreathlessasIwatchedhimtearopenthecondompacket
androllthelatexoverhislengthwithdeftfingers.Ididn’tknowifI’deverget
overseeinghimnaked.Nomanshouldbeallowedtobethatgorgeous.Itwasunfair,
really,anembarrassmentofrichesthathewassmartandsuccessfulontopofthat.
Butdespitethemouthwateringview,Ididn’tmisshisdeflectionofmyquestion.“But
you’renotgoingtotellmetherestofyourlist,areyou?”
Hebracedonhiselbowsoverme,hisgazegentle.“I’mjustyourone-nightstand,
angel.There’snoreasontogothere.”
“Isitthatbad?”
Butinsteadofanswering,hewaskissingmeagain—adeepandpassionatetakeoverof
mysensorysystem,blottingoutmythoughtsandquestionsandreplacingthemwith
onlyawarenessofskinonskinandmyneedforhim.Ineverystrokeofhistongue,
everycaress,Icouldfeelthatthiswasit,thelasttimewe’dtouchthisway.I
wrappedmyarmsaroundhisback,holdingonwitheverythingIhad,andopenedmybody
tohim
Withsuremovements,hegraspedtheundersideofmyknee,liftingitandpositioning
himselfatmyentrance.BeforeIcouldtakeinabreathorprepareforthepain,he
waspushinginsideme.Butinsteadofthesharpagonizingsecondsofourfirsttime,
thestretchofmybodyaroundhim,thatsenseoffullness,sentintensepleasuresnaking
upmyspine.Igroaned,mynailsdiggingintohisback.
“Isecondthat,”hesaid,releasingmyearlobefrombetweenhisteeth.“Youokay?”
“Yes,”Isaid,archinguptotakemoreofhiminsideme.“I’msovery,veryokay.”
Helaughedsoftlyagainstthecurveofmyneckandrockedhishipsbacktothrust
withalittlemorestrengththistime.Igaspedinpleasure.“Thingsonlygetbetter
afterthatwholevirginitythingisoutoftheway.”
“SoI’veheard,”Isaidonpantedbreaths.
Butashemovedinsideme,murmuringbothsweetanddirtythingsagainstmyskinand
touchingmeinwaysthatmadeeverypartofmelightonfire,Iknewonethingfor
sure.I’dbetterenjoythemomentbecausethewordswerealie.
Nothingwasgoingtobebetterthanthis.
Orhim.
Andhourslater,whenIstirredfromtheexhaustedsleepI’dfallenintoafterFoster
haddraggedouteverylastounceofpleasureIwascapableof,Icouldbarelymake
myselfrollovertoseetheinevitable.Theothersideofmybed—empty.
Inthecenterofthewrinkledsheetswherehe’dlainwasasmallsquareoftorn-edged
paper.Ireachedouttoflipitover.Familiarhandwritingstaredbackatme.
NeverHaveIEver.
Itwasmylistwithalltheitemsscratchedoff.
Fosterhadgivenmemyfantasies.Nowweweredone.FIFTEEN
Ibalancedonmytiptoesontheladder,tryingtocutinthepaintneartheceiling.WhyIhadeverthoughtIneededtohavethisroommarooninthefirstplacewasawonder.WhenI’dmovedintothe
apartment,thewhitewallshadseemedasstarkasthelabsIspentmydaysinatschool.
Icouldn’thandleallthatbrightwhiteandhadtackledmyfirstDIYprojecttomake
mybedroomcozier.ButtheapartmentmanagerhadtoldmethatwhateverpaintingI
did,I’dhavetoundowhenImovedoutorbechargedanextratwomonths’rentto
fixit.Andofcourse,theguyatthepaintstorehadn’ttoldmethatwhenitcame
timetocoverupred,itwouldtakeanactofGodandatruckloadofprimerandpaint.
Sothetailendoftheweekhadbeenspentbustingmyassattheclinicduringthe
dayandthencominghometoworkinafume-filledroom,watchingmywallsgofrom
maroontoredtoPepto-Bismolpink.NowitwasSaturday,andIhopedafteronemore
coat,it’dstarttoresemblewhiteagain.Myshouldersandarmsached,butIalmost
welcomedthephysicaldistraction.SincethelastnightwithFoster,I’dbeenable
tothinkoflittleelsethanthewayhe’dlookedatmewhenhe’dkissedmegoodnight—the
good-byeeyes.
He’dcalledmeoncesincethentoapologizeforleavingbeforeI’dwokenupthatmorning.
He’dexplainedthathehadtobeattheofficeearlythatdayanddidn’twanttowake
mesincewe’dstayedupsolate.Thephonecallhadbeenlightandcasualonthesurface.
Butawkwardasshitintheundercurrent.There’dbeennomentionofthenotehe’d
leftandnooffertogettogetherforanyreasoninthefuture.Themessagehadbeen
clear.Weweren’tanythingmorethantwopeoplewho’dhadagoodtimetogether.
AndIrefusedtoletmyselfturnitintoanythingmore.Thereasonwhyhe’dprobably
freakedoverthevirginitythinginthefirstplacewasbecausehefearedI’dget
allclingyandneedyafterward.NowaywasIevenshowingahintofthat.Nosirree.
Iwasastrong,sexuallyliberatedwomanwhocouldhaveagoodtimeandwalkaway
unscathed.
Right.
Adoorslammedontheothersideofmybedroomwall,startlingme.Myhandflinched
andablotchofpainthittheceiling.“Dammit.”
IgrabbedaragthatI’dhungontheladderandstretchedtoblotthepaint.Theceiling
hadbeenwhiteatonetime,buttheagedgrayit’dbecomewasdefinitelynotamatch
withthenewpaint.Sonofabitch.NowIwasgoingtohavetopaintthat,too.
MusiccrankedupontheothersideofthewallasFostermovedaroundtheroom.I
tossedtheragdowntothedropclothbelowinfrustration.Great,justwhatIneeded—the
tortureofpicturingFostercominghomefromworkandstrippingoffoneofthosetailored
suitsofhis.Tieunknotting,buttonsflickingopen,zipperlowering…thatbeautiful
nakedbodystridingacrosstheroom.
Myinsidesclenched,andIhadtograbontothetopoftheladdertokeepmyself
steady.Anotherdoorsoundedandheavyfootsteps.UsuallyIcouldn’thearallofthis
sowell,butIsensedFosterstompingaroundabit,maybemad.Didhehaveabadday
atwork?
Ishookmyhead.Notmyconcern.Focus.Idippedmybrushinthepaintcanandroseuponmytoesagain,doingmybestto
reachthelastcornerandblockoutthoughtsoftheguyontheothersideofthewall.
ButasIstretchedonelastinch,theladderteeteredbeneathme.
“Shit!”Igraspedforthewall,something,butitwasalostcause.Myweighthad
pitchedtoofartotheleft,andIwasgoingdown.Myshouldercrashedagainstthe
stickywall,followedbytheclangingladderandthehalf-fullcanofpaint.Ilanded
halfonmybed,thenslidtothefloor,pullingthedropclothwithme.Allofmy
airleftmewithanoof,andpaintspreadalongthefloorlikeacreepingwhiteoilspill.
Iclosedmyeyes,tryingtocatchmybreathandnotcry.I’dgottenluckyonthefall,
butthemessallaroundmewaslikerippingthelastshredoffabricinmyI’m-totally-together
sham.Themove.Graduation.Newjob.Newguy.Losingmyvirginity.Allofitpiled
onme,threateningtosmothermewiththeweightofitall.
ButIwasn’tallowedtowallowlong.Aloudrappingsoundcamefromtheotherside
oftheapartment,yankingmefrommyspiralofdoom.
“Cela!”
Theboomingvoicewasall-toofamiliar,andIalmostcouldn’tbringmyselftogoface
it.Butgirl-who’s-okay-with-it-allwouldn’tbeafraidtoanswerthedoor.Thatgirl
wouldbeallcooland“Hey,what’sup?”
Sowithonlyathreadofdignityintact,Iwipedoffmyhandsandpushedupfromthe
floor.Isteppedaroundthemessandmademywaytothefrontdoor,whereFosterwas
bangingagain,callingforme.
Ipulledthedooropen,realizingtoolatehowImustlook,andfoundafrantic-eyed
Foster.Hesteppedinsideandputhishandsonmyshoulders,hisgazescanningme
asifsearchingforblood.“GoodGod,whatthehellwasthat?Areyouokay?”
Ishovedmyhairoutofmyface,tryingtostaynonchalanteventhoughthesimple
actofhimtouchingmehadmyheartflippingover.“I’mokay.Justklutzy.Iuh…
felloffaladder.”
Hetouchedthesideofmyhair.“Christ,didyouhityourhead?Hurtanything?From
mysideofthewall,itsoundedlikethewholeroomcollapsed.”
Ishouldsayyes,thatIdidhitmyhead.ThenIcouldexplainawaytheridiculous
urgetokisshim,totuckmyselfintohisembrace.“No,luckilymyasstookmostof
theimpact,”Isaid,attemptingajoke.“Goodthingfortheextracushion.”
Alittleflickerofsomethinglitthecenterofthoseblueirisesofhis,andIcouldn’t
holdtheeyecontactanylonger.Helethistouchdropaway,andforthefirsttime
sinceI’dopenedthedoor,Inoticedhewaswearingleatherpants.Leather?InJune?
Butasmygazedrifteddown,andItookinthewaythepantshuggedhimjustright,
outliningwhatIknewlaybeneaththem,thoughtsofweatherevaporatedfrommymind.
Iwetmylips,tastedpaint.Terrific.
Hechuckledandwipedasmudgeofwhitefrommycheek.“Youdorealizethatyou’re
supposedtogetpaintonthewalls,right?”
Ilookedupathimagain,armscrossed.“Areyouseriouslygoingtokickagirlwhen
she’sdown?”
Thecornerofthatsensuousmouthcurled.“No,I’mnotquitethatmean.”
ThatstatementhadalayertoitIdidn’twanttopeelback,butmymindcouldn’t
helpbutwanderthere.Ishookofftheillicitimagesthatflickeredthroughmymind
likeamoviereel.Fosterbeingalittleroughwithmethatlastnighttogether,Foster
demandingthingsofmethenightinthehotel.
Iclearedmythroat.“Well,I’mfine.Myfloornotsomuch.Butthanksforchecking
onme.Didn’tmeantointerrupt…”Igavehimanupanddownlook.“Whateverit
isthatcallsforleatherpantsinninety-degreeheat.”
Heshifted,darkbrowsfallingtobroodinglevel.“Cela.”
“Whatdoesonewearleatherpantsforanyway?”Iasked,knowingIdidn’twanttohear
theanswer,butunabletostopmyself.“Youdon’townamotorcycle,doyou?”
“No,”heanswered,thesimplewordholdingwarning.
“Sowhatthen?”IknewwhatIsoundedlike,couldhearthathintofchallengeand
jealousytrickleintomyvoice.Itwascompletelyuncalledforandtotallyoutof
mycontrol.Irrationalgirl,aisleone.
“Ithinkit’sbestwedon’thavethisconversation,”hesaid,allstillwatersand
calmauthority.
“Right,”Isaid,thewordsharpasajab.“Ofcourse.Youjumpedonmycaseforkeeping
secretsthatfirstnight,butyougettoholdontoyourown.That’sfair.”
Hepressedafingertothespacebetweenhisbrows,closinghiseyesandrubbing.
“Cela,I’mnottryingtobeanasshole.Butyoudon’twanttohearthis,don’tneed
to.”
“No,IthinkIdo,”Isaid,hurtalreadygrindingmyinsides.Pulp.That’swhatI
becamearoundhim.
Hesighedandclickedthedoorshutbehindhim.“Fine.Let’sjustgetitoutthere,
then.I’mdressedinleathersbecauseI’mgoingtoTheRanch,aBDSMresortIbelong
to.”
Iblinked.Thewordsandlettersfilteredthroughmybrainbutdidn’tlineuptomake
anysense.
“BDSM?”Isaid,moretomyself,onlyhavingavaguerecollectionofhearingtheterm
before.
“Yes.SomestillcallitS&M.”
“Oh.”Oh.Picturesflashedthroughmymind.Scaryones.“Solike…”
“I’masexualdominant,”hesaid,watchingme,gaugingmyreaction.WhenIapparently
stilllookedunsure,headded,“Iliketorestrainwomen,causepainforpleasure,
beintotalcontrol.”
Acoldfistseemedtolockaroundmythroat.Totalcontrol.Another“oh”wasallIcouldmanage.I’dknownhewaskinkybuthadneverreally
letmyselfthinkthroughwhatthatcouldentailbeyondthethreesomes.
Hetookasteptowardme,hispresenceseemingtoswallowuptheentryway.“Which
iswhyIhaven’tcalledandaskedyououtagain,whyI’veforcedmyselfnottoknock
onyourdoorthelastfewdays,andwhyI’vebeenplayingmusicnonstopsothatI
don’thearyouinyourroom.”
Iswallowed,tryingtogetmyvocalcordstoloosen.“Idon’tunderstand.”
Theedgeofthekitchencounterhitmytailbone,andIrealizedI’dbeenbackingup
asheinchedtowardme,aninstinctiveresponsetohispredatorymovements.
Hissmilewasgrim,almostwistful.Hestoppedinfrontofme,thesliverofspace
betweenussparkingwithsomethingIcouldn’tevenidentify.Thescentofleather
andsoaphitmysenses,makingmewanttoclosemyeyesandholdontotheair.
“Iknowyoudon’t,angel.Andthat’swhynothingelsecanhappenbetweenus.”
Istraightenedatthefinalityofhistone,myhandsclenchingatmysides.“What?
BecauseyouthinkI’msomeinnocentyoungtwitplayingbig-girlgames?”
Hiseyesflashedwithdispleasure,andthestrongurgetograbbackmywordswent
throughme—anythingtogetthatlookoffhisface.
“Cela,Isuggestyoudon’ttrytopickafightwithme.YouknowIdon’tthinkyou’re
atwitoralittlegirl.Butyouareinexperiencedandyoung.Andwhatyousawofmydominancethatfirstnightwasbarely
apeek,andIfoughthardtokeepitatthatlevel.”Hishandsslidontothecounter,
cagingmein,hisnearnessstealingmyfunctioningbraincells.“Idon’ttrustmyself
withyou.EvenwhenIwastryingtobegentlewithyoutheothernight,Ipinnedyou
down,correctedyou,wasrougherthanIintended.Ican’thelpmyself.Thedarkpart
ofmeseesthatinnocenceinyou,thatsweetyielding,andfoamsatthemouth—makes
mewantstocaptureitformyself,toownit.”
Witheachword,eachbreathagainstmyskin,myheartbeatclimbedhigherupmythroat
untilitseemedlikemywholeheadwaspulsing.Mylipsmoved,butnothingcameout.
Iclosedmyeyes.
“AmIscaringyouyet,Cela?”
Yes.Mybodyseemedtobevibratingwithit—likebeingcaughtinapanther’slineof
sightandnotbeingabletomove.Butsomethingentirelydifferentwasbleedinginto
thefear,mixingwithitandmakingmythoughtsblurandmyskinwarm,makingmewant
tostayrightthere.
Iraisedmygazetohimandhomedinonhisface,myeyestracingovereverycontour,
everyangle,thefiercebeautythere.ThenIsawit—inabriefsecondwherethehard
shieldslipped—amirrorreflectingthedesperateachepinginginsidemyownchest.
Iwasaffectinghimasmuchashewasme.
“YouneveraskedmewhyIdidn’tsleepwithPike,”Iblurted.
Heblinkedasifsomeonehadsnappedacamerainhisface.“What?”
“IknowyouassumeditwasbecauseIwasstillrecoveringfromthenightbefore,but
thathadnothingtodowithit…”Ipaused,therightwordsprovingelusive.“I
didn’thavesexwithhimbecauseIfeltliketheprivilegeshouldonlybelongtoyou.”
Heclosedhiseyes,hisnostrilsflaringwithadeepbreath.“You’renotmakingthis
easy,angel.Notwhenyousaythingslikethat.”
Onasurgeofbravery,Ireachedupandslidmyhandsalonghisneck,pullinghis
foreheaddowntomine.Hisskinwasfeverhotagainstme.Myvoicewasasoftrasp,
nervesstillconstrictingmythroat.“Canyoushowme,Foster?Showmewhatyoulike?”
“Cela,”hegroaned,hisvoicelacedwithgravel,taut.“Don’t.”
ButIwasrollingdownahilltoofasttostopnow.“DidyouknowI’vebeenbitten
byamastifforthatI’vegroomedthemeanestShihTzuthevet’sschoolhadeverseen
andendedupwithstitches?OrthatIgrewupwithabrotherwhomademesparwith
himsothatIcoulddefendmyself?Icouldtotallykidneypunchyourightnow.”
Heliftedhishead,theblueofhiseyeslikeaJanuarystorm.
Itookadeepbreath.“I’mnotthatfragile.AndI’mtiredofotherpeoplesheltering
mefromthings.Ilikedwhathappenedthenightsweweretogether.IknowIdon’treallyknowanythingabout
your…lifestyle.ButIdoknowthatyoutakingcontrolinbedmademefeelcomfortable,
tookawayanyworriesofdoingsomethingwrong.Chasedofftheshame.”
“Diditnow?”heasked,ashadeofsurprisecoloringhisvoice.
“Honestly,Ihaven’tthoughtaboutmuchelsesince.”Ilookeddownatmypaint-splattered
feet.“Infact,Ithinkit’sallyourfaultIfellofftheladder—youhavingthenerve
towalkaroundallnakedinyourroom.”
Helaughedthen,abarkofathingthatseemedtosurprisehim.“HowdareIchange
clothesinmyownroom.”
“Sadisticbastard.”
Hesniffedandcuppedmyshoulders.“Youhavenoidea.”
“Soshowme,”Isaid,myvoicecalmerthanIfeltinside.“Teachmehowthisworks.
I’mano-riskinvestment,Mr.Businessman.I’mleavingsoon,soyoudon’tevenhave
toworryaboutmegettingallwhere-is-this-all-going,relationshipobsessedonyou.”
Hishandscoastedupanddownmyarms,awarraginginhiseyes,thenheleaneddown
andputhismouthtomine.Igaspedatthecontact,thesimplesoftnessreachingdown
insidemeandbendingeverythingoutofalignment.Hislipsmovedovermine,histongue
easinginside,caressingandinvadingmysenseslikeadrug.Hetastedofcinnamon
gumandwant—theneedpouringoutofhimandmakingmedesperatetopressmybody
againsthis.
Buthishandsstilledonmyshouldersandkeptmeinplace,fasteningmetotheedge
ofthecounteratmyback.Iwantedtotouchhim,todeepenthekiss,tostripdown
andhavehimtakemerightthereinmylittlekitchen.ButbeforeIknewit,hewas
liftinghismouthawayfromme,sadnessetchedintohisface.
“What’swrong?”Iasked,breathless.
Hecuppedmychinandlaidonelastbrieftouchtomylips.“Idon’twantyoutobe
myfling,angel.”
Thewordsslashedrightthroughme,openingupagapinghurt.Ibittheinsideof
mycheek,fightingoffthestupidburnoftearsthatclimbedupmythroat.“Youdon’t
thinkIcanhandleit.”
Hetookastepbackandshookhishead.“Whetheryoucanorcan’tisnotthepoint.
Ican’t,Cela.I’mtiredofone-nightstandsandlivingmylifelikeI’msomefrat
boy.Beingwithyoutheothernight,feelingthatconnection,thatpuremoment,it
mademerealizewhatIwantandneed.AndwhatIneedissomethingreal.Notaweek
ortwogettingatasteofwhatcouldbe,thenlettingitgo.Idon’twantawoman
toplaysubmissivetomeeverynowandthen.Iwanttofindthewomanmeanttobe
mine,wanttoownhersubmission…”
Myjawwentslack,mymindsnaggingonpartofthatlastsentence.“Youwanttoownawoman?”
Hegaveaghostofasmileashereachedoutandswipedathumbovermylips.“The
kindofrelationshipIdesireisintenseandunpalatabletomost.I’mnotaneasy
mantobewith.Andeveniftherecouldbesomethingbetweenus,you’renotready
tomakethatkindofdecision—notwithoutsomeexperiencebehindyou.Gobeyoung
andliveyourlife.Figureoutwhatyoulikeanddon’t.I’mnotonapathyouneed
tofollowrightnow.”
“Foster,”Iwhispered,somanyemotionswhirlingthroughme,Icouldn’tpinonedown.
“Thankyouforlettingmebeyourfirst,angel.Ididn’tdeservethatprivilege.But
I’llneverbesorryforit.”
Iclosedmyeyes,wantingtoprotest,tosayahundredthingsbacktohim,butwords
werestickinglikehotmarshmallowsinmythroat,expandingandblockingmyair.
Thiswasn’tsupposedtofeelthisway.Afunnightwiththeneighborwasn’tsupposed
totearatmelikethiswhenitwasdone,wasit?
“Good-bye,Cela,”hesaidsoftly.Thenhistouchwasgone,andhisfootstepswere
hittingthetile.ThedoorclosedbeforeIhadtheenergytoopenmyeyes.
PARTIV
NOTUNTILYOUTRUST
SIXTEEN
MypenmanshipwasappallingasIscrawleddowninformationonthepaperinfrontofme.SinceFosterhadwalkedoutofmyapartmentlastweekend,
Icouldn’tseemtodoanythingwithoutaflourishoffrustration.Idottedaniwithpointedvigorandslashedthroughat
“Well,aren’tyouallsweetnessandrosestoday,”Baileysaid,turningfromhercomputer
toeyeballme.“Whatdidthatintakeformdotoyou?”
“Itrequiredmetofillitout.Allthosetinylittleboxes.”
Sheliftedabrow.“WhoareyouandwhathaveyoudonewithmyCela,thepaperwork
Nazi?”
Isighedandsetdownmypen.“Sorry,longweek.”
Baileyfrowned.“YoushouldgohomeandopenthattequilaIboughtyou.”
Heh.Thetequila.Baileyhadnoideathathergifthadactuallybeenthematchthat
setmypreviouslypredictablelifeonfire.“Idon’thaveanyleft.”
“Wait,what?”Baileyswiveledinherchair,herstreakedblondhairwhippingbehind
herasshewhirledtofaceme.“Dude,there’snowayyoudrankallofthatalready.”
“Ididn’t.Isharedit.”
Baileyhuffed.“Soyoufinallydecidetoletloose,andyoudidn’tinvitemetothe
party?Lame.”
Ileanedbackinmychairandrubbedahandovermyforehead,Bailey’saccusatory
toneblendingwiththesoundofbarkingdogsinthekennelsintheback.“Itwasn’t
aparty.Justa…date.”
“Shut.The.Eff.Up.”Bailey’schairsqueaked,andwithoutlookingIknewshe’dpitched
forward—ontheprowl.“Youhadadateanddidn’ttellme?OhmyGod,that’swhyyou’ve
beensoallovertheplaceforthelastcoupleofweeks.Youmetaguy!”
Icouldhearthesqueeinhervoiceandhadnodoubtshewasabouttomorphintosome
cheerleaderversionofherself.IfIdidn’theaditoffatthepass,itwasgoing
toquicklydisintegrateintohandgrabbingandbouncingwithgleeasshebeggedfor
details.Baileywasonlytwoyearsyoungerthanmeandwastheclosestthingtoa
bestfriendI’dfoundsincemovinghere,butsometimesherenthusiasmmademewant
toduckandcover.Iheldmyhandsout.“Calmitdown,chica.Metistheoperativewordhere.Pasttense.”
Herbrightsmileinstantlydimmed.“Oh,no.Whatha—”
ButbeforeBaileycouldplayOprahtomyGayle,Dr.Pelhamstrodeinfromtheback,
alreadyramblingoffinformationsheneededBaileytopulluponthecomputer.Bailey
spunaround,instantlytappingawayatthekeyboard,hergamefaceon.Ismileda
greetingatourbossasshesteppedbehindustothewalloffilecabinets,andwent
backtofinishingtheintakeformIwassupposedtobedoing.
“IhaveasurgeryscheduledfirstthingtomorrowmorningforthatYorkiethatcame
inonMonday,”Dr.Pelhamsaidinmydirectionassheflippedthroughthefolders
inthefilecabinetnearestme.“Poorthing’sgotaprettyaggressivetumor,butI
thinkwemayhavecaughtitearlyenough.I’mgoingtousethenewlaser.Youshould
assist.”
Ilookedupfrommymessofanintakeform,myheartdoingalittleleapandspin.
“Really?That’dbegreat.Ihaven’tseenthisnewequipmentinactionyet.”
Dr.Pelhamsmiled,pushingherreadingglassesontoherhead,makinghersalt-and-pepper
bangsstickupeverywhichway.“Yes,DoctorMedina.I’mhopingifItemptyouwithourfancynewgadgets,youwon’tleaveus
attheendofthemonth.Haveyougivenmyofferanymorethought?”
Ipressedmylipstogether,theoffertemptingmetonoendeverytimeshebrought
itup.Thecliniccouldn’tpayasmuchasI’dmakeinmydad’spractice,butsince
itwasfundedbytheuniversityitmeantthevetshadaccesstothelatesttechnology
andexperimentaltreatments.AndDr.Pelhamknewmoreaboutveterinaryoncologythan
anyoneinthestate.WorkingunderherwouldgivemeexperienceIcouldn’tgetanywhere
else.ButIdidn’tneedtospecializeinoncology.WhenI’dmentionedittomyfather,he’ddismissedit
withasniff.
Youdon’tneedtowastetimespecializing,Marcela,he’dsaidwiththatexasperatedtone.IneedaJill-of-all-tradesfortheclinic.You’lllearnwhatyouneedtoknowdown
here.
ItriednottoletmyfacebeliehowtornIwas.IknewIcouldn’taccepttheposition.
Myfatherwascountingonmypickinguptheslackinhispractice.ButanytimeDr.
Pelhambroughtupthejob,Icouldn’tbringmyselftogiveafirmno.“I’mgiving
everythingalotofthought.”
Hersmileclimbeduptohereyes.“Fantastic.I’minterviewingafewcandidatesnext
week,though,sothinkquickly.”
“Iwill,thankyou.IpromiseI’llletyouknowbythen,”Isaid,miserymakingmy
stomachburn.Whywaseverythingthatseemedsosimpleafewweeksagostartingto
feellikeamazefilledwithtickinggrenadesandnorightdecisions?
IwaiteduntilDr.PelhamdisappearedbackintotheclinicbeforeIgroanedandlowered
myheadtotapitagainstthedesk.“I’mhavingamidlifecrisis.”
“Ithinkit’scalledaquarter-lifecrisis,”Baileyofferedbrightly,stilltapping
awayathercomputer.
“Yes.That.MaybeIdoneedmoretequila.”
“Becarefulwhatyouwishfor,doc.”
MyheadsnappedupsofastIalmostflippedbackwardinthewell-oiledofficechair.
Igrabbedfortheedgeofthedeskwithacurse.
Amusedgreen-goldeyesstareddownatme.“Sorry,didn’tmeantostartleyou.”
Iputmyhandtomychest,hissuddenappearancesendingmyheartbeatintostaccato
mode.“Pike?Whatareyoudoinghere?”
“Well,thesigndoessayopentothepublic,”hesaidwithagood-naturedsmirk.
“Right.”SeeingPikestandinginthewaitingareaofmyjobhadmyworldsbanging
together—thecrazymixingwiththemundane.Itseemedadangerousmix,likecoming
face-to-facewithyourselfintimetravel.Thatshitneverendedwell.
Inmyperipheralvision,IcouldseeBaileyturningforwardtoseeournewguest.
Pikeseemedtonoticeherforthefirsttimeandsentheratipofanimaginaryhat
beforeturningbacktome.“So,I’mherebecauseI’mthinkingyouwereright.”
“Iwasright?”Ishookmyhead,tryingtoclearit.“About…”
Hegrinned.“ThatIshouldgetadog.”
Thegearsinmyheadgroundtoahalt.“Wait,you’rehereforadog?”
“Um,excuseme,”Baileyinterruptedassherolledherchairclosertome.Iturned
tofindherstaringupatPikewithstarsinhereyes.“YousaidyournameisPike?”
Heglancedherway.“Itis.”
Bailey’shandsgrippedthearmsofherchair.“Areyou,like,thePike?FromDarkfall?”
PikeleanedhisforearmsonthecounterandgracedBaileywithasmilesopantymelting
itshouldbeoutlawed.“Iam.”
Bailey’sgaspwasaudible.ShesentmealookwithacapitalL,apparentlyregisteringthatPikeandIalreadykneweachother.Thenhermouthdropped
open.HereyessaidHim?He’stheguy?!
Iclearedmythroatandstoodbeforemydearfriendhadananeurism.“That’sgreat,
Pike.We’vedefinitelygotalotofdogslookingforhomeshere.Whydon’twegoin
theback,andIcanwalkyouthroughthekennelssowecangetanideawhatyou’re
lookingfor?”
“Soundsgood,doc.”HisgazeslidawayfromBaileyandalightedonme—allgoodhumor
andmischief.NodoubthewasfullyenjoyingBailey’sbedazzledreaction.Likeavampire
whofedonblood,hefedonmakinggirlsgogiddyandtongue-tied.“Leadtheway.”
“Comeon.”IleftagapingBaileybehindusandsteppedaroundthefrontcounterto
leadPiketowardadooroppositefromtheoneDr.Pelhamhadgonethrough.Assoon
Ipushedthrough,thecacophonouschorusandthetelltalescentofdoggy-nessgreeted
us,instantlysoothingme.ThiswasmyterritoryandPikewasafriend,noneedto
freakoutjustbecausewe’dseeneachothernaked.“SoyouknowBaileyisnowtexting
everyoneshe’severmettellinghershejustmetyou,right?Andprobablythatshe’s
goingtomarryyouandhaveyourrockstarbabies.”
Pikelaughed.“Yeah,Igotthat.”
Wewalkeddownthehallwaytowardthemainadoptionarea.“Justanotherdayatthe
officeforya,huh?Girlsfallingatyourfeet.”
Heliftedaneyebrowandtuckedhishandsintothebackpocketsofhisjeans.“You
know,doc,I’dmakeacatsoundrightnowandpokeatyouaboutbeingjealous.But
you’vebeenatmyfeet,andIknowyouaren’tallthatinterestedinreturningthere.”
Ichokedonmygaspandpeeredovermyshoulderattheemptyhallway.“Pike.”
“Don’tworry,doc.Noone’sinherewithus.Iwasjusttryingtogetthepotential
awkwardnessoutoftheway.”
Wereachedtheendofthecorridor,andIpressedmybacktothedoorwewereabout
togothroughtofacehim.“I’msorry,Ijustdon’tknowhowtodothis.I’venever
beeninthiskindofsituationbefore.”
Hesmiled,good-naturedasalways.“Notthatcomplicated.Wefooledaround.Weboth
enjoyedit.Thoroughly,Imightadd.Butyou’vegotthehotsformybestfriend.”
“I—”
“Plus,ifIeventhoughtaboutmakinganothermoveonyou,Fosterwouldstabmewith
oneofmyowndrumsticks.”
Iblinked,thewordsnotcomputingforamoment,thenIturnedbacktowardthedoor
toyankitopen.“Yeah,well,Fostertoldmegood-bye.”
Pikesighedandlaidanarmacrossmyshouldersaswebothsteppedintotheadoption
areatogether.“Hehadto,gorgeous.Doesn’tmeanhewantedto.”
Icouldn’tevenrespondtothat.AtthementionofFoster,everythingcrappyabout
mydaycamerushingback,andmymoodplummeted.IslippedoutfrombeneathPike’s
armassoonaswegottothefirstrowofkennels.Thesmellofhiscolognewasonly
remindingmeofthatfirstnightwiththetwoofthem.SomethingIdefinitelydid
notneedtothinkaboutrightnow.Iswitchedintoprofessionalmode,myspielrobotic.
“Thesefirsttworowshaveyoursmallerdogs—terriers,toybreeds,etcetera.Over
inthebacktotherightarethebiggerdogs.Thereareanumberofpurebreds,but
themajorityofwhatyou’llseearemixedbreeds.Ifyoupreferapuppy,wehavea
litterofLab/shepherdmixthatwillbereadytoadoptoutinaboutaweek.”
Pikecrossedhisarmsoverhischestandfrowned.“Nopuppies.Thosearetheeasiest
toadoptout,aren’tthey?”
Ishrugged.“Familiescan’tresistthem.Cute.Cleanslatewithnoprevioustrauma
toworryabout.”
“Andwhichonesarehardesttoadopt?”
Icockedmyheadtowardtheback-leftcorner.“Rowfive.Thosearethedogsthathave
beenherelongerthananyothersorhavebeenreturnedafteranunsuccessfuladoption.”
Heheadedthatwaywithoutanotherword.Ihadtohurrytocatchupandkeeppace
withhispurposefulstride.Iheardmyselfwarninghimthatthesedogsweregreat
buthadissuesandmaybewerebetterforexperienceddogowners,butIdon’tthink
Pikeevenheardme.Afteronlyafewminutesofscanningthekennelsandcoaxingthe
occupantswithin,hezeroedinonMonty,abrown-and-blackdachshund/schnauzermix
thathadbeencussedatbymorestaffthananyotherpetinthere.Pikeleanedforward
tosliphisfingerinsidethegatedfront,butMontybackedintothecorner,barking
likehewasonfire.“What’sthisguy’sstory?”
“Monty’sbeenreturnedtwice.Onceforsnappingatalittlegirlandanotherforbeing
resistanttoanykindoftraining.”IsidledupnexttoPikeandfrowneddownatthe
deceptivelycuteoccupant.Montyhadthebodyofadachshund,butlongerlegs,and
thefaceandwiryhairofaschnauzer.Buthiscutenesshadbeenhisdownfall.All
theyoungfamiliesweredrawntohim,buthewaseasilyoverwhelmedbythechaosof
children.“Hewasarescuedog.WesuspecttheoriginalownerdealtwithMonty’sfeistiness
byabusinghimoroutrightneglectinghim.Hecameinwithabrokenrib,internal
bleeding,andbarelyanymeatonhisbones.”
“Fuck,”Pikesaid,movinghishandawaybutkeepinghisfocusonMonty.“Andbeen
broughtbacktwice.Nowonderhe’ssnarlingatme.I’dhavetrustissues,too.”
“He’sabitofaproject,”Iagreed.
“Iwanthim,”Pikedeclared,turningtome.
“Pike,Idon’tknow,thisisn’texactlyajobforaninexperiencedowner.Maybeyou…”
“Doc,thisdoghasissueswithauthority,isstillfeistyevenafterbeingtreated
likeshitearlyinhislife,andhasspikyhair.Montyismadeforme.”
Thecornerofmymouthlifted.“Madeforyou?”
Heshrugged.“Let’sjustsayIcanrelatetowhathe’sbeenthrough.”
Myheartsqueezed,hisquiettonesayingmorethanheprobablyrealized.Ifoundmyself
wonderingwhatwasbehindthoseseeminglycarefreesmiles,whoPikewasbeneaththe
I’m-a-sexy-badass-drummerpersona.“Don’tyouwanttogointooneoftheprivaterooms
andvisitwithhimtomakesurethisistheoneyouwant?I’dhatetoseehimget
broughtbackagain.”
“Nochancethatwillhappen,doc.Iwon’tgiveuponhim.”
TheresolutelookonhisfacewasaboutasseriousasI’deverseenhim.Inodded
andturnedbacktowardthedoor.“Okay,then.Let’sgofilloutsomepaperwork.And
you’llneedalistofsupplies.You’llhavetobuysomethingstodayand…”
“Whattimedoyougetoff?”
Istoppedandlookedbackathim.“Abouthalfanhour.”
ThePikegrinreturned.“Good.Becauseyou’recomingwithme.Idon’tknowwhatthe
fuckI’mdoingorwhatIneedtobuy.Ineedprofessionalguidance.”
“Pike,I—”
“I’llorderChinese.Mytreat.Ialreadyknowyoulikelomein,andFoster’soutof
towntonightsonoworriesthere.WecanjusthangoutwhileyouhelpmegetMonty
settledin.”
Iblewoutabreath,theoffertempting.Thethoughtofspendinganotherlonelynight
inmyapartment,painting,heldaboutasmuchappealasrollingaroundinpoisonivy.
AndifFosterwasn’tgoingtobethere,itshouldn’tbeanissue.ItrustedthatPike
wasonlymakingafriendlyoffer,notaflirtyone.Andhedidsoundalittlescared
attheprospectofgoinghomealonewithMonty.Ishookmyhead.“Youknow,theshelter
doesn’tofferahousevisitfromavetcompletewithpurchase.”
Hemadeaprayingmotionwithhishandsandbattedthosesootylashesatme.“Pleeease.
Havemercyonme,doc.”
Iputafistonmyhip,amused.“Youknow?MaybeyouandMontyreallyaresoulmates
becausethosepuppydogeyesyou’regivingmeshouldcomewithawarninglabel.”
Hegrinnedandthrewhisarmaroundmeagain.“You’rethebest.”
“SomehowIcan’tevenfeelangryatyoudespiteknowingyoujustblatantlymanipulated
me.”
Hegavemeasqueeze.“Don’tfeelbad.That’smyway.You’llgetusedtoit.”
Ilaughedandleanedintohim,alltheweirdnessfromearlierdissipating.Yes,Pike
andIhadhookedup.Yes,IthoughthewasoneofthehottestmenI’deverlaidmy
eyeson.Butatthecore,weweremeanttobefriendsonly.Ifeltitthatfirstnight,
andIfeltitnow.
AndaftertheemotionalrollercoasterI’dbeenonwithFosterthelastcoupleof
weeks,beingwithsomeonewhodidn’tmakeeverythinginmeturninsideoutwasprobably
justwhatIneededtonight.
Evenifitwasn’twhatIcraved.SEVENTEEN
“Thefuckerwouldn’ttalk,”Fostersaid,staringoutatthedarkroadinfrontofhim.
“Shit.”Afullsighcamethroughthespeakerphone.“Ithought—”
“Yeah,sodidI.Hesaidhe’donlytalkifIwasthere,butthenhebackedoutat
thelastsecond.HetoldAgentLongthathedidn’thaveanythingtosaynow.Someone
eithergottohimintheprison,orhewasjustspinningstoriesinthefirstplace.”
“I’msorry,Foster.”
Heleanedhisheadagainsttheheadrest,feelingbeatdown.“TheFBIisn’tgoingto
digmuchfurthernowthatthere’snonewinformation.They’respreadtoothintobe
wastingtimeonacoldcase.Ineedyoutotakeoverwithwhatlittletheguardoverheard
fromthisguyinthefirstplace.Hethrewoutafewnicknames,maybestartwiththat.”
“Willdo,boss,”Bretsaidwithouthesitation.“I’llseewhatIcanfind.”
“Thanks.”Fosterturnedintotheparkinglot.He’dbeenworkingwithBretforyears
nowandknewtherelentlessprivateinvestigatorwouldturnovereverynewrockeven
iftheycontinuedtofindnothingunderthem.“Keepmeposted.”
“Ofcourse.AndFoster?”
“Yeah.”
“Letmehandleitandtakeabreak.Yousoundlikeshit.”
“It’smidnight.OfcourseIsoundlikeshit.”Heswungthecarintohisnormalparking
spot.
“Don’tbeasmartass.YouknowwhatImean.Gogetdrunkorlaidorsomething.You’ve
beeninacrapmoodeverytimeItalktoyoulately.”
“Goodnight,Bret.”
HehittheOffbuttonwithoutwaitingforaresponse.Nowaywashegoingtotell
Bretthathisperpetualfoulmoodhadnothingtodowiththeinvestigation.Thecase
hadbeenpartofhislifeforaslongashecouldremember—deadendswerepartof
hisexistence.Frustratinganddishearteningbutnothingnew.No,heknewexactly
what—orwho,rather—hadturnedhimintosomeMr.Hydeversionofhimself.
Fosterglancedupatthedarkenedwindowonthethirdfloorofthebuildinginfront
ofhim.He’ddonetherightthingwithCela.Takingheruponherofferforafling
would’vebeenselfish.He’dseenhowwideherbrowneyeshadgonewhenshe’drealized
hedidn’tjustwanttodishoutalittlespankandtickle—thathewantedtoowna
woman.She’dbeenshockedattheprospect…andappalled.Notthathe’dbeensurprised.
Mostpeoplewouldn’trespondpositivelytowhathetrulydesired.He’dlearnedto
acceptthatalongtimeago.Andhecouldn’tchangeit,evenifhewantedto.
And,boy,weretheretimeshewantedtoandtriedto.Buthe’dlearnedthatevenif
hecouldquellthatsideofhimself,itwasonlyatemporaryfix.He’dtriedtoadjust
hisneedswithDarcy,hadbeeneasyonherwhenhewantedtoberough,hadwatered
downtheexperiencesoasnottoscareheraway.Butit’dbeentheworstwaytogo
aboutit.He’dcreatedafarceofarelationshipwhereneitherofthemwasgetting
whattheywanted,butnoonewastalkingaboutit.
Fosterknewhecould’vegivenCelathepiedpipersonganddance,could’vesoftened
theextentofwhathewasseeking,madeitmorepalatable.Hecould’vespentafew
moredaysinherbed,constantlyreelinghimselfin.Buthewasdonewithpainting
prettypicturesthatonlyshowedthesurfaceofsomething.Hewaswalkingawayfrom
hertoprotectherfromsomethingshewasn’treadyforandtoprotecthimselffrom
attachinghopetoahopelesssituation.Shewastooyoungandinexperienced.Andshe
wasleaving.Endofstory.
Ofcourse,hisdickhadn’tgottenthememo.Evenstaringupatherwindowlikesome
patheticstalkerhadhiscockgrowinghard.“Fuck.”
Heyankedthekeysoutoftheignitionandpushedopenhisdoor.Thisdayneededto
bedone.AndhehadtoschedulesometimetogobackouttoTheRanch.Thelasttime
hadbeenabust.Hehadn’tbeenabletomusterupinterestinanyoneafterhistalk
withCela.Allhisthoughtshadstayedtherewithherinherapartment—thosedark
eyesandherpaint-smudgedcheeks.Buthecouldn’tbewalkingaroundthiswoundup
anymore.Hedidn’tjustneedsex;heneededtobeatsomeone—totieasubupandchannel
allhisfrustrationintothoseexquisitemomentswhereallceasedtoexistexcept
hisdominanceandawoman’suttersurrender.
Heslammedhiscardoorbehindhimandheadedintothebuilding.Fornow,hewasgoing
tohavetosettleforahotshowerandacoldbed.Hetrudgedupthestairs,unbuttoning
thetoptwobuttonsofhisdressshirtbeforeheevenhithisdoor.Hopefully,Pike
wasalreadyasleepbecausethelastthinghefeltlikedoingwasansweringquestions
aboutthefailedtripouttotheprison.Andhe’dneedtobequietbecausehe’doriginally
plannedtospendthenightinthesmalltownwheretheprisonwaslocated,soPike
wasn’texpectinghim.
Fosterturnedhiskeyinthelockandquietlyopenedthedoor,blinkinginthedarkness
oftheentryway.Hecouldseetheblueflickerofthetelevisionstillonintheliving
room.Hesighed.PikewasforeverfallingasleeponthecouchwiththeTVstillon.
Itwasliketheguyhadanaversiontohisownbed.Fostersteppedintothekitchen,
settingdownhiskeysandhiswallet,andtoeingoffhisshoes.Hewasabouttohead
downthehallwaytoturnofftheTVwhenheheardPike’shushedvoiceandasoftanswering
laugh.Afeminineone.
SoPikehadagirlover.ThatactuallycouldworkoutinFoster’sfavorbecausethen
Pikewouldn’tbeinclinedtoshoottheshitwithhim.He’dhavetopassbytheliving
roomtogettohisbedroom,sohecontinuedwalking.Butwhenthefemalevoiceresponded
tosomethingPikesaid,Fosterfrozeinhisspot.
Cela?
“Soit’sallaboutdominance?”Pikeasked.
“Mmm-hmm,”Celareplied.“Ifyou’renotincharge,itwon’twork.”
Fosterwenticycold,everythinginsidehimcrystallizingandcracking.PikehadCela
overonanighthethoughtFosterwasoutoftown.Celawaslaughingandtalkingabout
Pikebeingincharge.Thedayfromhellhadjustturnedintoawakingnightmare.
“Icanbedominant.”
Fostercouldn’thandleanotherword.Heroundedthecornerandfoundthetwoofthem
sprawledonthefloor,proppeduponpillowsliketheywereatafuckingslumberparty.
“Justmakesureyouprojectcalmness.He’llsenseifyou’renotandactup,”Cela
said,herbacktoFoster.
“Willhe—shit.”PikenoticedFosterstandingthere.
Fostercrossedhisarmsoverhischest,tryingnottoletanyemotionpeekthrough
hisexpression.“Sorrytointerrupt.”
Cela’sheadmovedlikeitwasonaswivel,hereyesgoingbigintheflickeringTV
light.“Foster.”
Pikepushedintoasittingposition.“Ithoughtyouwere—”
“Yeah,well,planschanged,”hesaid,unabletokeepthebiteoutofhisvoice.“And
seriously,Pike,sneakingaroundbehindmyback?Atleasthavetheballstotellme
youwanttofuckher.”
“Foster!”Celagaspedandscrambledupward.
“Whatever.Idon’tfuckingneedthistonight.I’mgoingtobed.Trytokeepitdown.”
Heturnedaroundandstrodetowardhisbedroomreadytochargerightthroughthesolid
woodofhisdoorjusttotaketheedgeoffhisanger.
“Dude,calmthehelldown,”Pikesaidfrombehindhim.“It’snot—”
Heslammedhisdoor,blockingouttherestofPike’ssentence.Asshole.Allthegirls
intheworldPikecouldhave,andhewasgoingtomesswiththeonlyonethatFoster
couldn’tbeartoimaginewithanyoneelse.
Therewasahardknockonhisdoor.“Comeon,man.Letmein.”
ButFosterjustignoredhimasheunbuttonedtherestofhisshirt,oneofthebuttons
poppingoffcompletelyinhishastetogetintheshowerandblockouteverything
outside.Butrightashetossedhisshirtonthebed,therewasanotherknockonthe
door,thisonenotasheavybutjustasurgent.
“Foster,openthisdoorrightnow,”Celademanded.
Heturnedtowardthedoor,surprisedattheireinhervoice.He’dheardhernervous,
he’dheardherconfused,andheknewexactlywhatshesoundedlikewhenhedrewhis
tonguealongtheshellofherearorupherthigh—butneverhadheheardherangry.
Despiteknowingitwasabadidea,hestalkedtothedoorandswungitopen.There
shestoodinherwrinkledpinkscrubpantsandaT-shirt,cheeksstainedwithcolor,
andhairalittlewild—lookingasenticingashe’deverseenher.
“Wedon’tneedtodothis,ang—Cela.”Hecaughthimselfrightbeforehecalledher
angel.
“Thehellwedon’t!”Shepushedpasthimandintohisroomwithoutinvitation.“You
can’tjustwalkinandthrowoutaccusationswhenyoudon’tevenknowwhat’sgoing
on.”
“Well,it’snotthathardapuzzletoputtogether.”
Shegavehimadisbelievinglook,thenputherhandstohertemplesandletouta
diatribeinSpanish—hisshyneighborswitchingintosomefieryLatinamodehedidn’t
knowshewascapableof.“You’reso—ugh.Ican’tevenbelieveyou’reactinglikethis.
Pikegotafreakingdog,okay?I’vebeenhereallnighttryingtohelphimgeteverythingsetupforMonty,
toteachhimhowtotrainhim.”
“Hedidwhat?”
“Ifyouhadtakenthetimetoaskthequestionorseethekennelinthecorner,maybe
youcould’vesavedyourselffromlightingintoPikeandinsultingme.”
“Insultingyou?”
Sheheldherhandsouttoherside,exasperated.“Foster,youjustaccusedmeofbeing
thekindofgirlwhowouldsleepwithyouandthensneakaroundwithyourbestfriend.
Whynotjustcallmeaslutandcallitaday?”
Hecringed.“Ididn’t—”
“Speakingofwhich,”shecontinued,apparentlynotinthemoodtolistentoanapology.
“Whatrightdoyouhavetocomestompingthroughherelikeyouhavesomerightto
meanyway?Youwalkedaway.Yousaidgood-bye.WhoIhangoutwithisnotyourbusiness.”
Herakedahandthroughhishair.“YouknowwhyIwalkedaway.”
“Right.Yes.You’retheBigBadWolf,andI’minnocentLittleRedRidingHood.Got
it.Letmegofindmyfreakingpicnicbasket.”
Shemovedtowalkpasthim,hairwhippingbehindher,buthegrabbedherwrist,halting
her.“Youknowit’smorethanthat.Don’tactlikeit’sasmallthing.”
Thosechocolateeyesheldchallengeasshemethisgaze.“Isn’tit,though?Soyou’re
alittlekinky.Whatever.Bigdeal.”
“Whatever?”
Shegaveapetulantlittleshrug,andhewantedtoturnheroverhiskneerightthere.
“Okay,fine.”Hekickedthedoorshutbehindhimandtuggedherinfrontofhim.“You
wanttoplaythisgame,angel,andknowwhatI’mreallylike?Wanttoseewhatyou
thinkissuchalittleissue?BecauseI’vehadarealbadday,andthere’snothingI’dlikemorerightnow
thantofuckthatnotionrightoutofyou.”
Thatgotherattention.Hereyesdartedtohistightgriponherwrist,andhecould
feelherpulsehoppingagainsthisthumb.“Foster.”
“AmIscaringyouyet,Cela?”
Sheglaredathim,buthecouldseetheflickeroftrepidationthere,thebravado
faltering.“You’retryingto.”
“You’reright,”hesaid,leaninginandpressinghislipstoherear,thepartof
himhe’dheldbackfromherrisingtothesurfaceandtakinghold.“BecauseIlike
that,angel.Thiskindoffeargetsmehard.”
Thesoftintakeofbreathwasbarelyaudible,buthefeltherbodystiffening,every
musclegoingtautandstill.Sheclosedhereyesandswallowedhard.“I’mnotscared
ofyou.”
Hehuffedadarklaugh,thequiverinhervoicegivingawayherlie.Truetoform,
hewashardashellbehindtheflyofhisjeans.
“Sureyou’renot.”Hepressedapalmtothesideofherfaceandkissedhertemple.
“Gohome,Cela.SorryIjumpedtoconclusionstonight.Itwon’thappenagain.”
Hesteppedaroundherandwalkedtowardhisdressertopulladraweropenandfind
apairofboxerstosleepin.Hedidn’twanttolookback,didn’twanttowatchher
walkout.He’dhadahardenoughtimewiththefirstgood-bye.Butwhenhelifted
hishead,Celahadn’tlefttheroom,she’dsimplyturnedhiswayandwasstaringat
himinthemirror.
Hefrownedatherreflection.“What’swrong?”
“Idon’twanttoleave.”
Heturnedaroundtofaceher.“Cela—”
“Whydon’tIwanttoleave?”Sheclosedhereyesandshookherhead.
Herwordscaughthimoffguard,thedesperationinhervoice—thewant.Helethisgazedriftdownherbody,takinginthequickriseandfallofherchest,
theshadowofhernipplespressingagainsthertop,therestlessshiftingofherbody.
Thesightwrungthebreathrightoutofhislungs.
Thefearhadn’trunheroff.Ithadtriggeredsomethingelseentirely—somethingthat
hadgluedherfeettothefloor.Celawascompletelyandutterlyturnedon.
EveryimpulseinFoster’sbodyrushedpasthisbetterjudgment,andgoodintentions
diedaquickdeath.Thishecouldn’twalkawayfrom.
Oh-soquietly,heletthewordspasshislips.“Tellmeyoursafeword,angel.”
Shestoodthereforthelongesttime,eyesclosed,fistballed;butthenasifit
werebeingspokenbysomeforceoutsideherself,shesaid,“Tequila.”
Andthesoft-spokenwordwaslikeagunshotringinginhisears,signalingthestarting
gatesopening.Everythingthathadbeenbuildinginhimoverthedayssincehe’dbeen
withher,everyfrustration,everylongnight,pouredintohisveins,fuelinghim.
Tonightwouldeitherscareherawayfrommenlikehimforeveroritwouldprovehim
wrongaboutwhatshewasandwasn’treadyfor.Eitherway,thetimefordebatewas
done.
Tonight,she’dbehis.EIGHTEEN
Icouldn’topenmyeyes.Couldn’tmove,really.Everythinginmewasinfull-fledgedpanicmode—redlightsflashing,sirenssounding.
ButIwaslockedinplace.Dying.
DyingforFostertotouchme.Dyingtoseethissecretpartofhim.Anddyingtoknow
why,wheneverypartofmygoodsensesaidtorun,mybodyhaddecidedtowavethe
whiteflag.
“Eyesonme,Cela,”Fostersaid,hisfirmvoicebreakingthroughthequietofthe
roomandthesoundofmyownharshbreathing.
Iswallowedpastthedrynessinmythroatandforcedmyeyesopen,findingashirtless
Fosterleaningagainsthisdresser,hisarmsbracedoneachsideofhim.Themuscles
inhisshouldersrippledandflexed,asifhisholdonthepieceoffurniturewas
theonlythingrestraininghimfromchargingme.
“Youhavefivesecondstowalkoutifyoudon’twanttobehere.One…”
Myheartwasbeatingsofast,mychesthurt—likeactuallyhurt
Fosterpushedoffthedresserandtookastepforward.“Two.”
NeverhadIfeltlikethis.NotevenwhenDaltonRoarke,thehottestguyinmyhigh
school,hadkissedmewithtongueduringaskitindramaclass.IthoughtI’dpass
outbackthen,butthatlight-headednesswasnothingcomparedtobeingunderFoster’s
purposefulgaze.
“Three.”
Iwasn’tgoinganywhere.Iknewit.Heknewit.Ishookmyhead.
“Two.”
Hewasarm’slengthawaynow,andIcouldseeaglimmerofhisowntrepidationbehind
theintensity.IfIwasn’tscaredbefore,thatputmerightoverthetop.Onsome
instinctuallevel,bothofusknewhewasopeningadoorthatcouldn’tbeclosedagain.
Thiswouldbethebeforemomentinourrelationship—ifyoucouldevencallitarelationship.Oncehetook
thatlaststep,we’dbeenteringtheafter.ButIwasmiredinthequicksandalready.Forgoodorbad,Iwasawillingvictim
inwhatevertonightbrought.
Insteadofsayingone,hemovedintomyspaceandcuppedmyshoulders.Theenergyhummingthroughhimseemed
toseepthroughmyskinandmakeeverythinginsidemecracklewithtension.“Cela.”
“I’mstillhere,”Isaid,myvoiceatrembleofathing.
“Soyouare.”
ButIcouldn’ttellifhewasatallhappyaboutthatfact.Iglancedathisneatly
madebed—darkbluestripedcomforter,pristinewhitesheetsandpillows—thebedhe’d
fuckedotherwomenon.WomenI’dheardwhimperandmewlfrommysideofthewall.
Thethoughtmademystomachtwist,andnotinagoodway.Iclosedmyeyesandtook
inalongpullofair.Whatwaswrongwithme?AnyguyIsleptwithwould’vescrewed
othergirlsinhisbed.That’showbedsworked.
Exceptmine.He’dbeentheonlyoneinmybed,theonlyonetoleavethefaintscentofhiscologneonmysheets.
WhenIopenedmyeyes,Isawthathe’dfollowedmylineofsighttothebed.Helooked
backtome,andIexpectedhimtoleadmethere.Instead,hislipscurledatthecorner.
“Youwearyourthoughtsonyourface,angel.”
“I—”
Hepressedhishandovermymouth.“Enoughtalking.Ithinkyourmouthhasgotten
youinenoughtroubletonight.”
Istaredupathim,mywordsclogginginmythroatandmythoughtssplintering.
WhenhewasapparentlyconvincedIwasn’tgoingtosayanythingelse,hedroppedhis
handfrommymouthandtuggedatmyT-shirt,yankingitovermyhead.Ididn’thave
anythingsexybeneath.I’dthrownoncomfortablethingsaftergettingoutoftheshower
andcomingbacktohelpPikewithMonty.Butitdidn’tmatter,becauseFosterclearly
wasn’ttheretolingeroverlingerie.Heunsnappedmybraandtossedittotheside,
leavingmenakedfromthewaistup.Hecuppedmybreastgreedilyandwithhisother
hand,grabbedmyhiptodragmeagainsthim.Hiserectionwasahardpromise,the
strainingdenimofhisjeansbrushingmybelly.
“It’snotevenfairhowfuckingtemptingyouare,”hesaid,histhumbteasingmynipple
andmakingeverythinginmearchtowardhim.“Temptingandtoodamnedbraveforyour
owngood.”
Hegavemynippleafirmpinch,andIgasped.“I’msorry?”
Hesmiledbuttherewasadarknessbehindit.“Yeah,youmaywellbewhenallissaid
anddone.”
Hishandslidupfrommybreastovermycollarbone,thencurledaroundmythroat,
brieflyapplyingpressuretherebeforemovinguptogripmyjaw.Heheldmethere,
hiscoolblueeyestrackingovermyface,theslopeofmynose,thecurveofmymouth—like
hewasevaluatinganitembeforepurchasing.Ididn’tdaremove.Thenheloweredhis
headanddraggedthetipofhistonguealongtheseamofmylips.Ishudderedatthe
sensualjoltthesimplemovesentthroughmynerveendings.Automatically,Iopened
tohim,andhenippedalongmybottomlip,pullingitbetweenhisteethandsucking
gently.Everymovewasmethodical,deliberate—likehehadallthetimeintheworld.
ButIdidn’t.Mybodywasscreamingalready,needingsomethingthatonlyhecould
giveme.I’dgonewetandachythemomenthe’dgrabbedmeandstoppedmefromleaving
theroomthefirsttime.Patiencewasnotanoption.Ipusheduponmytoes,trying
togoinforafullkiss,butheimmediatelypulledbackandhauledmeagainsthis
bedroomdoor.Thedoorrattledagainstmyback,andmybreathrushedoutfromthe
unexpectedmove.
“No,angel,that’snowhowthisworks.You’rehereformypleasuretonight.IfIwant
togoslow,wegoslow.IfIwanttotieyoutomybedandlickeverypartofyou
butnotletyoucome,I’lldothat.Youronlydecisioniswhetherornotyouuseyour
safeword.”Hecrowdedmeagainstthedoor,hisbreathhotagainstmyear.“Youunderstand?”
Everyerrantthoughtinmymindseemedtofallaway,everythingzoominginandfocusing
onthemaninfrontofme—therumbleofhisvoice,thenight-airscentofhisskin,
andhisfirmwordsfallingagainstmyear.Myresponsecameoutasawhisper.“Yes,
sir.”
“Verygood,”hebreathed,theheatofhischestbrushingagainstmyalreadysensitive
nipples.“Though,hardandfasthasitsmerits,too.Turnaroundandputyourpalms
againstthedoor.”
“But—”
Hegrabbedmyshouldersandspunmetowardthedoor.“Wronganswer.Handsonthedoor,
Cela.”
Mypalmslandedagainstthewoodwithasmack,andFosteryankedmyscrubpantsand
pantiesdownandoff,leavingmelikesomecriminalpreparingforapatdown.Mybrain
wasspinning,myanxietylikeelectricalpulseshoppingalongmyspine.Whatwashe
goingtodotomewithmybackturned?Myimaginationwentonawildridedownway
toomanypaths.Ipeekedovermyshoulder,needingtoseewhatwashappening,but
asharpslaptomythighhadmeyelping.
“Eyesforward,”Fostersaid,noemotioninhisvoice.
Isnappedmyfocusbacktothedoor,fightingmyknee-jerkinstincttotellhimto
gotohell,tograbmyclothesandwalkrightthroughthedoorIwasbracedagainst.
He’dwarnedme.Hewastryingtoscareme.Orpissmeoff.Breakmeandmydemand
toseehimthisway.
Footstepssoundedonhishardwoodfloor.Hisclosetdoorsqueakedopen.Ittookevery
bitofmyself-controltonotlookbackathim.Aminuteortwopassedandthenhis
bodyheatwasradiatingonmyback,hisscentfillingmynose.“Raiseyourhandsabove
yourhead.”
IdidasIwastold,andhegrabbedoneofmywrists.Iglancedupwardtowatchhim
wrapsmoothblackleatheraroundit.Acuff.Heslippedafingerbetweentheleather
andmyskin,checkinghowtightitwas,thenstrungachainintothemetalloopon
theoutsideofthecuff.Bloodrushedthroughmyears,thewhitenoisesoundpulsing
withmyfranticheartbeat.Sweatdampenedmyneck.Fosterstrungthelengthofchain
throughsomethingabovethedoor—ablackeyeboltthatIhadn’tnoticedbefore.Once
hehaditthreaded,hehookedamatchingleathercufftomyotherwrist.
Whenhereleasedmyhand,myarmsloweredafraction,thecuffsholdingmeinplace
withonlyabitofslack.Ijerkedatthem,themetallinksrattling,buttherewas
noslippingthroughthecuffs.Iwasnowchainedtothegoddamnedwallinthebedroom
ofaguyIthoughtIknew—butmaybedidn’tknowatall.Thefeelandthesightshould’ve
scaredmeshitless.Butinsteadofthepurefearofdanger,itwasliketheanxiety
ofgettingonarollercoasterforthefirsttime—adrenalinecoalescingwithanticipation…
andtrust.Trustthatnomatterhowterrifyingtheride,thecartwouldn’tflyoff
thetracks.
ButwhenFostersquatteddownbehindmeandlockedcuffsaroundmyankles—cuffsthat
wereattachedtoeachotherwithametalbar—mythis-is-just-a-thrill-ridementality
faltered.Wordstumbledoutofme.“Youdon’thavetolockmedown.IpromiseIwon’t
run.”
“Notnowyouwon’t,”hesaid,awickedsmilecrossinghisfaceashelookedupat
me.“AndthisistheBinBDSM,angel.Youdon’tknowwhatitdoestometoseeyoulikethis—allbound
andhelpless.”
Herosefromhiscrouch,glidinghishandupfrommyankleovermycalfandthigh,
sendinghotshiverstwiningthroughme.Ipressedmyforeheadtothedoorashistouch
movedhigher.
“IlikeknowingthatIcandothistoyou.”Hisfingersslidalongmyfolds,revealing
justhowembarrassinglywetIwas,beforetuckinginsideme.Iwhimperedand,instinctively,
Itriedtoclampmythighstogether—thestimulationaftersomuchwaitingalmostoverwhelming
me.Butthebarbetweenmyanklesdidn’tallowmetoclosethemevenalittle.“And
youcan’tdoadamnthingaboutitexceptstayopentomeandacceptit.”
“Foster,”Iwhispered,notsurewhatIwasaskinghimfor.
Hisfingersslippedoutofme,andthenthelengthofhisbodywaspressedupagainst
myback.Hewasstillhalf-dressed,thecooltouchofthemetalbuttononhisjeans
likeanicecubetomyoverheatedskin.Hislefthandcollaredmyneck,andhisright
hoveredinfrontofmyface,hisindexandmiddlefingersshinywithmyarousal.“Taste,
Cela.Tastehowgoddamnedsexyyouare.”
Iclosedmyeyesandshookmyhead,almostfrantically.Hewantedmeto…Icouldn’t.
Notwithhimrightthere,watching.
Hekissedtheshellofmyear.“Aww,don’tbeshynow,angel.You’retellingmein
allthosenightsyou’vetouchedyourself,youhaven’ttakenataste?”
Mycheekswentfeverhot.OfcourseIhad.AndI’dtastedmyselfonhislipsafter
he’dgonedownonmethatfirstnight.Butsomehow,admittingthispressedthatshame
buttoninsideme,givingmethatsickfeelinginmystomach.
Andthatpissedmethehelloff.Why?Whycouldn’tIpushpastthatpartofmyself
thatwantedtolabeleverythingdirtyandwrongandsinful?Fightingpastthatinstinctualresponse,Ibentmyheadandsuckedhisfingersinto
mymouth,evenastheflushofembarrassmentburneditswayovermychest,andcleaned
everybitofthem.
Hegroanedagainstmyearandpressedhishipsharderagainstmybackside,hiserection
likesteelagainstmysoftness.Hepulledhisfingersfrommymouthwithapop.“Goodgirl.NowIwon’thavetoflogyouashard.”
Myeyessnappedopenatthat.“Flog?”
Heranahandalongmyhairinadeceptivelygentlegesture.“Yes,angel.Stillwant
toseethispartofme?”
Ibitmylip.DidI?MybodywasgivingabigHell,yes!Butanxietywasclawingatme.Wouldithurt?WouldIhateit?God,whatifIlikedit?Thatpossibilityseemedevenmoredisturbing.ButI’dfallentoofardownthe
rabbitholetobackoffnow.“Whydoyouhavetohitme?”
Heranafingeralongthenotchesofmyspine,slowly,reverently.“Becauseitturns
meon.”
Nootherexplanation.Inthisworldofhis,thatwasenough.Iswallowedhard.
HepinchedmyhipandIgasped.“Andmaybeit’llturnyouon,too.Ornot.Onlyone
waytofindout.”
BeforeIcouldevenprocessthedartofpainfromthepinch,Iheardhimwalkaway
again.Sothiswasit.Hewasgoingtoflogme—whateverthatmeant.Iwasn’teven
sure.God,whyhadn’tIgoogledthisstuffbeforegoadinghimintoshowingme?
Becauseyouweretooafraidtolook,mymindwhispered.
Somethingsoftandalittleticklishbrushedovermyshoulders.Iglancedtotheside
justintimetoseethestripsofleatherslideovermyskin.Goosebumpsfollowed
initswake.“Whatisthat?”
Fostertrailedthetailsalongmyshoulderblades,thetouchoh-sosoft.“It’saflogger,
angel.Stripsofelkhide.Worried?”
“Yes.”
Hechuckled.“Good,thatwillmakeitbetter.”
BeforeIcouldaskanotherquestion,delayhimfurther,Iheardtheswooshofthe
floggercutthroughtheair.Thetailsofitstripedrightacrossmybackonthediagonal.
Irearedupandcriedoutinsurprise,thechainsofmycuffsclinking.Butinstead
ofthesharpstingingsensationI’dbeenbracingfor,theblowhitlikeaheavythud
againstmyback—impactfulandbreathstealing,butnotpainful.
Isuckedinair,gaspingforit,butanotherhitcamedownintheoppositedirection.
Thetailswrappedaroundmyhipabit,leavinglittlestingswheretheendofthe
leatherstripslanded.Andmybackwentwarmandtingly.Fosterpaused.“Stillwith
me?”
Myfistsflexed,andIswayedabitinthecuffs,butthetinglingsensationwasoddly
pleasant—almostcalming.“Yes,sir.”
“Beautiful,”hesaid,hispleasedtonedoingmoretomethanitshould.“Youshould
seehowprettyyourskinisasitheats.”
Isquirmedabit,tryingtoliftmyfeet,arestlessnessgrowinginme,butthebar
restrictedmymovementtoomuch.Ineeded…Idon’tknow,something.
“Easy,angel,”hesaidsoftly.“I’llgiveyoumore,butifyoukeeptryingtomove,
you’regoingtohurtyourself.”
More?HethoughtIwasaskingformore?ButevenasIthoughtthequestion,somepartofmeknewhewasright.Mybodywas
hummingformorecontact,forthatrushoftinglingthatseemedtospreadfrommy
backalongallmynerveendings.
AndIdidn’thavetowaitlongforit.Fosterlandedblowsalongmyassthistime
andonthebacksofmythighs.Andtherewasnopausethistime.Asifheweremaking
figureeightsintheair,herainedtheleatherdownonmeinaveryprecisebutincreasingly
intensepattern.Thesoftthuddingfromthefirstfewblowsmorphedintosomething
edgierandmoreintense.Pain…butpainmixedwiththiselectricfeelingthat
hadmylegsquivering,andmymoansturningintosomesoundIdidn’trecognize—desperate,
wantonneed.
Sweatdrippeddownmyneck,slidingdownbetweenmybreasts.Iwasacutelyawareof
everysensation.Thesmackoftheflogger,thesoundofmyraggedbreathing,thescent
ofarousal,andFoster’spresencebehindme.Evenwithoutseeinghim,Icouldfeel
himthere—hisintensityapalpablething.Hewasinsomeotherzone,andIwasquickly
tumblingintoitwithhim.Anotherhit,andmythoughtswenthazy.Ipressedmydamp
foreheadagainstthedoor.“Please,please,please…”
Ididn’tknowifIspokethewordsaloudornot,butnootherhitcame.Theflogger
clatteredagainstthewoodfloor.Vaguely,Iwasawareofthesoundofazipper,rushed
movements.Thenmyankleswereslippingfreeoftherestraints.
Fosteradjustedsomethingaboveme,andthenhewasturningme,myhandsstillcuffed
butthechainsgoingwithme.WhenI’dmadetheone-eighty,Imanagedtoopenmyeyes.
Foster’sblue-eyedgazecollidedwithmine—theferocitymakingmystomachflip.
Iopenedmymouthtosaysomething,thoughIwasn’tsurewhat,buthecutmeoffinstantly
withakiss—histongueandlipsclashingwithmineashewrappedahandbehindeach
kneeandliftedmeoffmyfeet.Mybackhitthedoor,andhepusheddeepinsideme,
openingmewideandwrappingmylegsaroundhiships.Igaspedintothekiss,the
feelofhiminsidememixinginwiththesnapofpainfrommysensitivebackhitting
thewood.Myheadspun,andmysexclenchedaroundhim.Everythinginsidemehummed
likelivewire,waitingforonemoresparkofpleasuretoburnmetoashes.
Foster’sfingersdugintothebacksofmythighs,andhethrustintomeharderthan
he’deverdonebefore.Thedoorrattledbehindme,andmyfingersclawedforhim,
butmyhandswerestillcapturedaboveme.Therockofhishipspushedhimalongmy
clitwitheveryforwardmotion,drivingmehigherandhigheruntilIwaswrithing
againstthedoorlikesomeinhumanthing.Ibrokefromthekissforair.“Foster.”
Hisjawwasclenched,hispaleeyeswild,andhisdarkhairclungtohistemples,
buthedidn’tstopfuckingme.“Comeforme,Cela.”
Hewrappedanarmaroundmywaist,holdingmeinplace,thenmovedhisotherhand
betweenus.Herubbedmyclit,theroughpadsofhisfingersfirmoverslipperyflesh,
andeverythingwentwhitebehindmyeyes.Itiltedmyheadbackagainstthedoorand
criedoutasmyorgasmrocketedthroughme.Mybackwasbangingagainstthedoor,
thepowerofFoster’sthrustalmostknockingmerightthroughit,andIrodethetide
ofpleasureashegroanedlongandloudandspilledinsideme.
WhenwewerebothbackonEarth,Isaggedinthebindingsandletmyheadlowerto
hisshoulder.Hewhisperedsoft,soothingwordsinmyearasheheldontomeand
uncuffedmywristswithhisfreehand.Myarmscircledaroundhisneck,half-numb
andnearuseless.Hecarriedmetothebedandloweredmetoit,slidingoutofme
intheprocess.Myeyescrackedopenforamomentashepulledoffthecondomand
disposedofit.Thenhewasbackatmysideagain.Hebrushedmydamphairoffmy
cheek,areverentexpressiononhisface.“Liedown,angel.I’llgetyousomewater.”
Hedidn’thavetotellmetwice.Icurledaroundoneofhispillowsontopofhis
comforter,nolongergivingashitwhohe’dsleptwithinthisbed.Itwasabed,
andIwasexhausted.Iwasn’tawakelongenoughforhimtoreturnwiththewater.
NINETEEN
Irolledoverinbed—groggy,achy,andfilledwiththedesperateneedtopee.Mybodybumpedintowarmth,andittookmeasecondtorememberthat
IwasinFoster’sbed—naked.Hemumbledsomethinginhissleepbutdidn’twakeup.
Tryingnottojostlethebedtoomuch,Ishiftedtotheothersideandslippedfrom
beneaththecovers.Theairchilledmybareskin,butitwasstillpitch-darkinthe
room,soIhadnoshotatfindingmydiscardedclothes.Itwasgoingtobechallenging
enoughfindingmywaytothebathroom.
Iputatentativefootinfrontoftheother,tryingtomakesurenottotripover
anythingorrunintoanyfurniture.Hisroomwasthemirroroppositeofmine,soI
knewwherethedoortothebathroomshouldbeatleast.Withalittlebitofhands-out-in-front-of-me
groping,Ieventuallyfoundmywaythereandshutthedoorbehindme.Itookcare
ofthenecessities,thenwenttothesinktowashmyhands,rinsemyface,andswish
somemouthwash.NoneedtohaveFosterbegreetedwiththefullheinousversionof
mymorningself.
Afterdouble-checkingtomakesurethedoorwasstillshut,Iturnedaroundandpeeked
overmyshouldertogetaviewofmybacksideinthemirror.Despitethetenderness
thatstilllingered,Ididn’tseeanyobviousmarksleftfromFoster’sflogger—though,
ifIwasgoingtobruise,that’dprobablytakealittlelongertoshowup.Ifrowned
atthereflection,unsurewhetherIwashappyordisappointedtoseenoevidence.
Isighed.Mybrainwaslikeasteamingpileofscrambledeggsoverthiswholething.
Afterflippingoffthelightandlettingmyeyesadjustforamoment,Iopenedthe
doorandheadedbacktowardthegeneraldirectionofthebed.ButapparentlyImisjudged
thedistance,becausebeforeIknewit,myshinsmackedtheedgeofthewood-framed
bed.AharshcursepassedmylipsasIgrabbedformythrobbingleg.Fosterrolled
over.
“Cela?”
“Yeah.Sorry,”IsaidasIbracedahandonthebedandrubbedmyshinwiththeother.
“Youokay?”heasked,hisvoiceallslowandsleep-heavy.Andsexy.Ofcourse.The
mancouldprobablysneezeandI’dfindsomethinghotaboutit.Whatwaswrongwith
me?
“I’mfine,justclumsy.Iwastryingnottowakeyou.”
“Mmm,”hesaid,pushinguponhiselbowandreachingahandouttome.“Getbackin
bed,angel.It’ssaferinhere.”
Itooktheofferedhandandlethimpullmebackunderthecovers.“I’mnotsosure
aboutthat.”
Hepulledmeagainsthim,mybacktohisfront,andchuckledsoftlyagainstmyneck.
“Ipromisetobegood.”
Hisbodycurledaroundmine,chasingoffthechillI’dcaughtonthewaybackfrom
thebathroom.Iclosedmyeyes,absorbingjusthowgooditfelttosimplyliewith
him.“Sorryaboutwakingyouup.”
“Noworries.Idon’tsleepthatsoundlyanyway.Doesn’ttakemuchtowakemeup.”
Hepulledtheblanketalittlehigheroverus.“Gobacktosleep,angel.Westill
havesometimebeforemorning.”
Inestledmyheaddeeperintothepillowandclosedmyeyes,butafterafewminutes,
Irealizedthattheknocktomyshinhadwokenmeupfully,andIwasn’tgoingto
driftoffeasily.Ishiftedabitinhisholdandcouldtellthathehadn’tfallen
backasleepyeteither.
“Isthispositionirritatingyourback?”heasked.
“No,it’sfine.Justawake.”
“Iwouldoffertosingyouasleeplikeyoudidforme,butI’mnotthatsadistic.
Nooneshouldbesubjectedtomysingingvoice.”
Ismiled.“Thatbad?”
“It’sonlysuitablefortheshowerandwhenI’mridinginthecaralone.”
Webothwentquietforawhile,andIthoughthewasgoingbacktosleep,butthen
hislowvoicebrokethesilence.
“I’msorrythatIgotangrywithyoutonight,whenIsawyouwithPike.Thatreally
wasuncalledfor.”
Irubbedthecornerofthepillowcasebetweenmythumbandforefinger,staringinto
thedarkness.“Yousaidyou’dhadabadday.Whathappened?”
Hesighedandhisholdonmeloosenedabit.“IthoughtIwasgoingtogetsomeanswers
aboutasituationI’vehadquestionsaboutforalongtime,andIhitanotherdead
end.”
Ichewedmylip,debatingwhetherornottopushformoredetails.Itreallywasnone
ofmybusiness.Justbecausewewerecurledupnakedtogetherdidn’tmeanIhadsome
righttoknowaboutallhispersonalbusiness,butIcouldn’thelpmyself.“I’msorry.
Whatkindofsituation?”
“Afamilyone.”Hewassilentforalongtimeafterthat,andIfiguredhe’ddecided
thatwasenoughofananswer—eventhoughitwasnoansweratall.Butthenhelaced
hisfingerswithmineandletoutabreath.“I’msearchingformysister,Neve.”
Iturnedinhisholdtofacehim,confused.“Whatdoyoumean—‘searching’?Didshe
runoff?”
Icouldn’tseehimwellinthedark,butIfeltthetensioninhismuscles.“No,angel,
shewastaken—averylongtimeago.HasbeenmissingsinceIwasten.”
“OhmyGod.”Theweightofthewordslandedsolidlyonmychest,pressingdown.“I’m
sosorry.”
Hebrushedhisknucklesovermycheek.“It’sokay.I’velivedwiththatknowledge
foraverylongtime.Ijustgotmyhopesuptonightthatwe’dhaveabreakthrough
inthecase,andtheinformantbackedout.Ishould’veknownit’dbeadeadend.They
alwaysare.”
“Oh,Foster,”Isaid,myheartbreakingatthehopelessnessunderlininghistone.
“Shh,”hesaid,pressingakisstomyforehead.“I’mjustsorrythatItookmyfrustration
outonyou.Youdidn’tdeservethat.”
“It’sokay,I—”
Heputhisfingertipsovermylips.“No,it’snot.Butlet’snotgetintoitnow.
It’slate,andyouneedtogetsomerest.”
Iletmyheadsinkbackintothepillow,andheturnedmetospoonagain.
Hisembracewascomforting,thebedwarm.ButitwasalongtimebeforeIwasable
tofallasleep.
Icouldhandlemysterious,sexyneighborFoster.
Andfunny,textingFoster.
Evenintimidating,kinkyFoster.
ThoseareguysIcouldwriteoffasfunflingcandidates.
ButIhadnoideahowtohandlethisman.Thismanwithvulnerabilitiesandwounds
andhistory.Amanwhohadn’tgivenuponfindingasisterwho’dbeengoneformore
thantwentyyears.Ididn’tneedtoknowthesethingsabouthim.ThemoreIlearned,
themorethismattered.Themorehemattered.AndtheharderitwasgoingtobewhenIleft.
MaybeFosterhadbeenrightallalong.
Wehadtoendthis.
BecauseasIlaythere,listeningtohimbreathing,Ifoundmyselfwantingittobe
real,wantingtobehis.
—
“Whatthehellareyoudoing,man?”
FosterglancedoverhisshoulderatPike,who’dplunkeddownatthebreakfastbar,
thenewdogsniffingathisfeet.Fostercouldn’teventacklethatturnofeventsyet.Piketakingontheresponsibilityofadog.Themindboggled.
“I’mmakingpancakes.WhatdoesitlooklikeI’mdoing?”
“Andwhatthefuckwasthatlastnight?”
Fostersighed,keepinghisbacktoPikeashewaitedforbubblestoappearinthe
batterhe’dladledontothegriddlepan.Bette,thehousekeeperwho’dtakencareof
himformuchofhislife,hadtoldhimnevertoflipapancakeuntiltherewerebubbles.
“SorryIjumpedyourshit.Yesterday…sucked,andwell,Iwasalreadyinabad
placewhenIcamehome.”
“Dude,I’moverthat.You’reapossessiveasshole.Notbreakingnews.ButI’mtalking
aboutwhatyoudidwithher.Whathappenedtoleavingthevanillagirlwho’smoving
awayalone?Nowyou’remakingherpancakes?Youdon’tcookbreakfastforanybody.”
Fosterflippedthepancakewithalittlemorevigorthannecessary.“Lastnightwasn’t
planned.Igaveherthechancetoleave.Shedidn’t.”
“Ahhell,don’tdothistoyourself.”
FosterturnedtogivePikeanarrowlook.“Dowhat?Sleepwithher?It’snotlike
ithadn’thappenedbefore.”
Piketookasipofhiscoffee.“Don’tgivemethatshit.Youdidn’tjustfuckher,
andyouknowit.You’regettingattached.It’swrittenalloveryou.You’remaking
fuckingpancakes,forGod’ssake.”
“It’sjustapancake,”hesaidalittletooloudly,holdingthespatulaouttothe
side.Batterdrippedtothefloor,andthedogscrambledtotakecareofit.“I’m
wellawareshe’sleaving.I’mnotattached.”
Thelierolledoffhistonguewithease.
Truthwas,hewasafuckingmessafterlastnight.Hehadn’tsleptaftertheirmiddle-of-the-night
talk.He’djustlainthere,watchinghersleep,tryingtocomeupwithascenario
whereshedidn’tpackupandmoveawayinaweek.Heturnedbacktoladlemorebatter
ontothegriddle,avoidingPike’spointedstare
“Shecan’tstay,Foster.”Pikesaidquietly.“Shewon’t.Lastnight,shewastelling
meaboutwhat’swaitingforherbackhome.She’sspentherwholelifepreparingto
takeoverhalfofherfather’spractice.Andshelovesherfamilyandthecareershe’s
chosen.Herlifeisthere.”
“Iwasn’tgoingtoaskhertostay,”herepliedunderhisbreath.Though,hewasmore
thantemptedto.Butwhatcouldhepossiblyofferherinexchangeforveeringoff
thelifeplanshe’dsetupforherself?Sure,theyweregreattogetherinbed.And
yeah,hehadenoughmoneytogiveheranythingshecouldwantorneedwhileshewas
here.Buttheyhardlykneweachother.Evenifshelikedlastnight—whichhehadn’t
evenhadachancetoconfirmyet—therewasnowayshecouldbereadyforthetype
ofrelationshiphecraved.
Thesmellofsmokesnappedhimoutofhisruminating.Heturneddowntheheatasthe
pancakestartedtoburnaroundtheedges.Thesoundofadooropeningsomewherebehind
himhadhimturningaroundagain,though.Thedogscamperedthatwaywithabark.
Celaappearedinthekitchenafewmomentslater,wearingherwrinkledclothesand
ahaphazardponytail.Shehadherarmswrappedaroundherselfasifshewerecold.
Andwhenshebentdowntoscratchthedogunderthechin,shemovedsogingerly,he
cringed.
Shit.
“Heythere,Monty,”shesaidsoftly.
“Morning,doc,”Pikesaid,ascasualascouldbe.LikeCelawashereeverymorning.
“Coffee?”
Sheroseandgavehimasmallsmile,hereyesdartingbrieflytowardFoster.“Actually,
Ireallyneedtogetbacktomyplace.I’mdueatworkinanhour.”
Fosterfrownedandsetdownthespatula.“Youshouldatleasteatsomebreakfastbefore
yougo.”
“Hemadepancakes,”Pikesaid,awrytilttohismouth.
Fostershothimashut-the-fuck-upglare.
Shecurledherlipsinwardandglancedtowardthedoor,clearlyreadyforescape.
Buthecouldtellmannersweresodeeplyingrainedinherthatshecouldn’tdoit.
Shegaveaquicklittlenod.“Yeah,okay,Icanstayforaminute.Youdidn’tneed
togothroughsomuchtrouble.”
Fosterbreathedabriefsighofreliefthatshewasn’tleavingyetandturnedtopile
afewpancakesonaplate.“Notrouble.”
Pikesniffed.
FosterputtheburntpancakeonPike’splate.
Whenheturnedaroundwithbothplatesinhishand,Celawasslidingintothechair
nexttoPike,thestrainedpressofherlipstheonlyindicationthatshewasfeeling
theeffectsoflastnight.God,hewasanasshole.
Yes,she’dpushedhimlastnight,hadaskedtobewithhim,buthe’dtakenittoo
far.Notthathe’dneverleftagirlwithmarksorbruisesthenextday—itwaspart
ofthedeal.Butupuntilnow,he’donlydoneittowomenheknewweretotallyinto
it,whothrivedonsubmissionandpainplay.ButwithCela,hehadnoideawhather
paintolerancewasorifshehadlimitshe’dcrossed.It’dbeencompletelyirresponsible
onhisparttoscenewithher.Thegirldidn’tevenknowwhatascenewas,andhe’dchainedhertohisfuckingdoor.Thenlater,he’dlaidhisshitabouthis
sisterrightonher.Likesheneededtoknowabouthisfamily’stragediesontopof
everythingelse.Nowondershewasreadytobolt
Hesettheplatesinfrontofthemandgrabbedthebottleofsyrupoffthecounter.
“Youokay?”
“I’mfine,”shesaid,thoughtherewasn’tmuchconvictionbehindit,andtookthe
syrupfromhim.“Thanks.”
Pikegrabbedhisplateandstood.“IthinkI’mgoingtoeatthisinthelivingroom.
Hitmewithalittlesyrup,doc.”
“Pike,youdon’thaveto—”Celastarted.
“Nah,doc,it’sokay.Mymorningshow’son.GottagetmydailydoseofLaraSpencer.”
Celafrownedbutpouredsyrupoverhispancakesandsaidnothingelse.
“Comeon,Monty,let’sseehowyoulikeFoster’scooking.”PikegaveFosteraquick
glance,thensaunteredofftowardthelivingroom,Montyfastonhisheels.
Celaputabiteoffoodinhermouth,lookingdownatherplatelikeitheldallthe
answers.Hehadnodoubteverythingwassettinginnow.Lastnightwhenshe’dwoken
up,it’dallstillbeencomfortableinthedarkness—safe.Butnowinthelightof
day,herbodywasprobablyaching,herskinsensitized,leavingnopathforhermind
todenywhatshe’dparticipatedinlastnight.AndknowingCela,thatprobablymeant
aheapingdoseofshameandguilt.
Fosterblewoutabreathandserveduphisownbreakfast,thengrabbedabottleout
ofthecabinet.HetappedouttwopillsandsetthemnexttoCela’splate,thenpoured
heraglassofwater.“Takethose.It’llhelp.”
Sheeyedthepills.“Whatarethey?”
“Ibuprofen.”
“Thanks.”Shepickedthemupandswallowedthemdown,hergazestayingonhim.“So
willIhave,like,bruisesandstuff?IkindoffeellikeIgottackledbyanNFL
lineman.”
Heleanedagainstthecounter,armscrossed,leavinghisfooduntouchednexttohim.
“Youshouldn’t.Thatparticularfloggerisprettyharmlessinthatregard.Though
youmaygettinyspecklebruiseswherethetipswrappedaroundyourhip.”
“Oh.”
“Doesthatbotheryou?”
Shepushedasyrup-soakedbitearoundherplatewithherfork.Great,shecouldn’t
evenlookathim.“Idon’tknow.”
Hecardedahandthroughhishairandsighedheavily.“IknewIshouldn’thavegone
therewithyou.”
Shelookedupsharply.
“I’msorry.Lastnight…itnevershould’vehappened.”
“Right.”Sheshookherhead,smirking,andshovedherplateaway.“Look,thanksfor
breakfast,butI’vegottogo.”
“Cela,”hesaid,pushingupfromthecounter.“Wait.Don’tleaveyet.Weneedtotalk
aboutlastnight.IfIfreakedyouout…”
Shegrabbedherkeysofftheedgeofthecounterandlookedathim.“Youdidn’tfreak
meout,Foster.Ifreakedmyselfout.Afewweeksago,Iwasvirgin.NowI’mwaking
upinsomeguy’sbedfeelinglikeI’vebeenrolledoverbyatruckandcan’teven
findmypanties.”
Someguy.Thewordspuncturedhischestlikerustynails.
“Thishasbecometoo…intense.AndI’mstartingtolikethis,you,toomuch.Youtoldmeyouwanttoownawoman.AndasIwaslyinginyourbedthis
morning,canyoubelieveIactuallyfoundmyselfwonderingwhatthatwouldbelike?”
Shelookedheavenward.“Howfuckinginsaneisthat?”
Hisheartleaptatthemerementionofherevenentertainingthatnotion,butreality
quicklykickeditrightbackdown.Clearly,shewasn’thappyaboutthatthought.And
shewasleaving.Leaving.Hehadtogetthatthroughhishead.“Cela…”
Shecontinuedlikehehadn’tevenspoken.“Beingwithyouhasbeen—well,Ican’teven
describeit.ButFoster,”—shemethiseyesandputherhandtoherchest—“Idon’t
evenknowwhothispersonis.I’mnotsureIwanttoknow.”
Tearsbrimmedinhereyes,andhecouldn’tstophimselffromwalkingovertoherand
pullingheragainsthim.Shelethimfoldherintohisembrace.Hesethischinon
thetopofherhead.“It’sgoingtobeallright,angel.You’vejustbeenthrough
alotofbiglifechangestheselastfewweeks.You’restillthesamepersonyoualways
were.I’msorryIaddedshittothatmixthatmadeyouevenmoreconfused.”
ShesniffedagainsthisT-shirt.“Youdidn’tmakemedoanything.Ibroughtthison
myself.”
“Shh,you’rejustgoingthroughlifetryingtofigurestuffoutlikeallofusare.
Inaweek,you’regoingtogobackhometoyourfamilyandthejobyou’veworkedso
hardfor,andthingswillgeteasier.Everythingwillfallintoplace.”Thewords
hurtcomingout,butwhatelsecouldhesay?Hey,Ijustmetyou,andthisiscrazy
Shit.Nowhewasquotingridiculouspopsongs.Thisgirlwasmakinghimlosehismind.
Celapulledbackandlookedupathim,gazesomber.“Ican’tkeepdoingthis.It’s
startingtohurt.”
Hewipedatearoffhercheek.“Iknow,angel.”Me,too.
Shenodded,resigned.“MaybeifIdidn’thavetoleave,but…”
Hepressedhisfingersagainsthermouth,unabletobeartheconjecture.“Nowhat-ifsinlife,justwhatis,right?Let’snotgothere.”
Shegrabbedhiswristtomovehishandthenpusheduponhertoestobrushhislips
withasoftkiss.“Thanksforgivingasmall-towngirlawalkonthewildside.”
Heforcedasmile,eventhoughthewordswerewaytooreminiscentofhowthingshad
endedwithDarcy.Maybehe’dalwaysberelegatedtothatroleinhislife—thekinky
guytohavefunwithforawhilebeforeawomanwentlookingforsomethingreal.Something
normal.“Hey,thepleasurewasallmine.”
Shesmirked.“Thatisdefinitelynottrue.”
Helaugheddespitehimself.
“I’llmakesureandstopbybeforeIheadoutoftown.AndtellPikeifhehasany
morequestionsaboutMontytocallme.”
“Willdo.Doyouhaveeverythingyouneedforthemove?”heasked,movingintosafe
conversation,topicsthatwouldn’tremindhimthathewouldnevertouchheragain.
“Istillhavealotofpaintingtodo,butI’llgetitdoneintime.”Shewasheading
towardthedoornow.
“Letusknowifyouneedhelp.”
“Thanks.”Shepeekedbackathimandsmiled,butheknewshe’dnevercallforthat
help.
Thiswastheend.Andtheybothknewit.
Hestoodtherestaringatthedoorlongaftershe’dshutitbehindher.TWENTY
IturneduptheradioasIpulledontothehighwayonthewaytomybrother??splace,tryingtochaseawaythedepressingthoughtsthatwere
infiltratingmybrain.I’dcomehomelastnightaftergoingtoamoviewithBailey
tofindmyapartmentfullypainted,everycornercut,everybaseboardglossed.An
invoicefromalocalpaintingcompanyhadbeenonmykitchencounter,thechargepaid
forbyoneIanFoster
Thegesturehadbothtouchedandfrustratedme.I’dspentthelastweektryingto
forgetthewayFosterhadlookedatme,thewayhe’dmademefeelthatnightinhis
room,thecrazythingshe’dmademewant.I’dalmostwalkednextdoorahundredtimes
totrytotalktohimaboutit—totrytofigureoutwhyIwasfeelingso…undone.
ButIknewtheminuteIsawhim,itwouldjusttearthebandagerightoffthewound
again.Nomatterhowelectrictheconnectionhadbeenbetweenus,Ineededtostay
awayfromhim.Iwasleavinginjustafewdays.Andhewaslookingforsomething
biggerthanwhatIcouldofferanyway.
Thatlastnightwithhimhadscaredme.Everythinghadbeensointense,sooutthere.AndI’drespondedtoit,
giveninlikesomeslavegirl.Themorehe’dpushedme,themoreturnedonI’dgotten.
I’dwantedtopleasehim,andprobablywould’veallowedhimtotakemeevenfurther
thanhedid.Plus,Igotthesensehe’donlyshownmeaglimpseanyway.Icouldn’t
imaginewhatotherthingslurkedinthatclosetofhis.
Andthenextmorning,insteadofbeingappalledathowachyandsoreIwas,I’dgone
intothebathroomtolookatmybackinthemirror.Whennomarkswerethere,I’d
actuallyfeltdisappointment.WhichprovedIwaslosingit.Iwasadoctor,goddammit.Mywholecareerwasfocused
onhealing,andhereIwaslettingsomeguyhurtme.Andnotjustlettinghim,but
enjoyingit.
Yes,Ineededtostayaway.
EvenifIcouldn’tstopthinkingabouthim.
Evenifpartofmewasdesperatetoknowwhyhemademefeelthisway.
Mylifewaitedformesomewhereelse.Myfamilywascountingonme.Iwasmoving.
AndeventhinkingofchangingthatforsomeguyI’dsleptwithafewtimeswasludicrous.
Ithadtobethatwholeweirdevolutionarychemicalthingthatmademewanttofall
forthemanI’dlostmyvirginityto.Mybodywasundersomemisguidedimpression
thatitwasgoingtomateforlife.Logically,Iknewthis.
ButwhenFosterdidthingslikepayingformywholeapartmenttogetpainted,hemade
itharderformetokeepmyscientificbrainincharge.So,despiteknowingitwas
abadidea,I’dstoppedbyhisapartmentonthewayouttothankhimandtotellhim
Iwasgoingtopayhimback.Ididn’twantguilt-ladengifts.Hedidn’towemeanything.
ButonlyPikehadbeenhome.
“Sorry,doc.He’sout,”Pikehadtoldmeasheleanedagainstthedoorframe.Nosmile.
Noinvitationinside.Thecompletelyun-Pike-likebehaviorhadmademystomachdrop
tomytoes.
“Out?”
Hegavealittlenod.
“Likeleather-pantsout?”I’dasked,tryingtokeepmytonenonchalanteventhough
mythroathadgoneMojavedry.
Hisgazehadslidaway,hisshoulderssagging.“I’mnotsure.”
“Gotit,”I’dsaid,thewordsclipped.“Thanksalot.”
I’dturnedtoleave.“Hey,doc.”
I’dspunbackaround,armscrossedinwhatprobablylookedtobeangerbutfeltmore
likeadesperateattempttoholdmyselftogether.
“Iknowyoufeelsomethingforhim.Igetit.Butifyou’renotstickingaround,just
lethimgo,”hesaidquietly.“PeoplethinkIhaditroughwithwhatIwentthrough
asakid,butdespitehisfamilyhavingmoney,Fosterhaditworse.Hewasaloneallthetime.Thepeoplewhoweresupposedtolovehimbailedwhenheneededthemthemost.He
doesn’twanttobeleftagain.”
Myfingersdugintomybiceps,thesadnessinPike’svoice,thepicturehewaspainting,
makingmewanttoreachouttoFosterevenmore.“Isthatwhyhewantsto…own
awoman?”
Thewordswerehardtoevengetacrossmytongue—theconceptsoforeign.
Pikebrushedahandoverhishead,thespikesspringingbackassoonasheswiped
overthem.“Maybe?There’snodoubthe’sadominant.He’salwaysbeenabossyfucker—at
leastaslongasI’veknownhim.ButIthinkhimwantingsomethingsoclearlydefined
isawaytotrytocontrolwholeaveshim.Butofcourse,it’safalsesenseofsecurity.
Awomancanwalkawayatanytime—vanillarelationship,slave,submissive,oranything
inbetween.Onedayhe’sgoingtohavetoacceptthatcaringforsomeoneisalways
goingtobearisk,nomatterwhat.”
Idigestedhiswords.“Whichiswhyyousteerclearofrelationships?”
“Nah,doc,I’mjusttoofuckeduptoinflictmyselfonsomeonelongterm.I’mbest
insmalldoses.”Hesmirked,buttherewasn’tmuchenthusiasmbehindit.“AndI’m
nottryingtoscareyouoffFoster.Icantellsomethingisdifferentwhenhe’swith
you.I’veneverseenhimgetso…possessive.ButIlovetheguyanddon’twant
toseehimgethishearthandedbacktohimagain.”
Ifrowned,anunshakeablemelancholyfallingoverme,butnoddedatPike.“You’re
agoodfriendtohim.”
Heshrugged.“I’dbeinacemeteryifnotforhim.Andbloodornot,he’smyfamily.”
Ileanedoverandkissedhischeek,agood-bye.“Thanks,Pike.He’sluckytohave
youinhislife.”
Hepushedawayfromthedoorjamb,hisexpressionresigned.“Wantmetotellhimyou
stoppedby?”
Thoughpartofmehadwantedtosayyes,I’dshakenmyheadnoandwalkedaway.If
Iwasn’tgoingtostay,thenitwasn’tfairformetokeepdraggingthisalong.For
Fosterormyself.EvenifIfiguredoutsomewaynottoleave,howcouldIbeginto
bewhatFosterwanted?IwasintriguedbytheglimpsesofhisdominantsideI’dseen,
enjoyedfantasiesthatwentdownthatpath.Buttheideaofgivingthatmuchcontrol
toanyonemademyskingoclammy.I’dbarelyescapedfrombeneathmyfather’sthumb.
HowcouldIconsiderbeingundersomeoneelse’s?
SoifFosterwasatthatresortplace,lookingforsomeotherwomantobeinthat
typeofrelationshipwithhim,thenIshouldn’tbegrudgehimthat.Hedeservedto
behappy,evenifIwasn’ttheonemakinghimthatway.
Well,atleastthat’swhatI’dbeentryingtotellmyselfduringthecarride.
Butwhenvisionsofanotherwomantouchinghimcametomind,completelyunfounded
territorialfeelingsrosetothesurface,darkeningmymood.Forsomeonewhowassupposedly
lookingforsomethingreal,Fostercertainlywasgoingaboutitaninterestingway.
Ididn’tknowalotabouthislifestyle,butlookingforMrs.Rightatasexresort
didn’tsoundsoromantic.Andifhe’dreallyfeltanythingtowardmelikehe’dimplied
theothernight,he’dgottenoveritmightyfast.
Imergedintotraffic,grippingthesteeringwheelabittoohardandcursingthe
balladthatwasplayingontheradio.Stupidfriggingsong.Butbeforemythoughtscouldcareenfurtherdownthedestructivepaththeywere
on,thenotesofmyphone’sringtonefilteredthroughthemusic.Iloweredmyradio
andhittheSpeakerbuttononthephone.“Hello?”
“Marcela,”mydadsaid,hisheavyaccentmakingmynamesoundsomuchmoreexotic.
“Ifinallycaughtyou.I’vebeentryingtocall.”
“Hey,Papá,”Isaid,tryingtomusterupanapologetictonethroughmyclenchedteeth.
“Sorry,I’vebeenbusygettingreadyforthemove.”Andhavingthreesomes.Andgettingchainedtodoors.Andmaybefallingforsomeguy
wholikestotorturewomenforkicks.
“Youmakemeworry,Cela.Ihadtocallyourbrothertomakesurehe’dheardfrom
you.”
Isighed.“I’msorry,butyoushouldn’tworrysomuch.I’mnotnine.Icansurvive
afewdayswithoutbeingcheckedon.”
“Don’tbesmart,”hesaid,usingthatfathertonethatusedtomakemewanttohide
inmyroom.“Butnevermind,itwon’tmattersoon.You’llbehome.Wehavethehouse
allreadyforyou.I’llbeabletoseeyourcarfromacrossthestreetandwillsleep
easyknowingyou’resafe.”
“Wait,what?”MystomachdidanauseousrollasItriednottolookdownatmyphone
inhorror.
“Yourtíawasonlyrentingthathousefromme.Itoldyouthat.Shewantedtomovecloserinto
town,sowe’regoingtoletyoustaythere.Thinkofallthemoneyyou’llsave.You’ll
onlyhavetocovertheutilities.Youcanstartyourretirementfundearly.”
“Youwantmetoliveacrossthestreet?”Iasked,unabletokeepthewhatthehell?outofmytone.“I’vealreadyputadepositdownonanapartment.”
“Now,Marcela,don’tbeungrateful.Andit’sjustadeposit.Letthemhaveit.You’re
goingtobeworkingattheclinicwithme,soyoumightaswellbecloseby.Wecan
evensavegasandridetogether.Andbelieveme,Ican’twaittohaveyourhelp.I’ve
hadtohireanextratechjusttohandlethepatientload.Andyourmamáisbuzzing
aroundlikeshe’sgotabeeupherdress.She’llbesohappytohaveyouback.”
Carswhizzedbymeoneachsideastheworldseemedtoslowinsidemycar.Myfather
continuedtorambleon,andamovieofmylifestartedtoplayinmyhead.I’dknown
Iwasgoingbackandwouldbearoundmyfamilyagain,butthepicturemyfatherwas
paintingwaslikeathick,itchyblanketcoveringme.Smothering.
“Papá,Idon’tthinklivingsocloseisagoodidea.Ineedmyspace.”
“Space?You’llhaveawholehousetoyourself,”hesaid,thenmutteredsomethingin
Spanish,whichmeanthewasgettingannoyed.“Youknowhowmanychildrenwouldlove
tohavetheirfamilypayfortheirmortgage?Wewanttotakecareofyou,Cela.”
Ibreathedinthroughmynose,tryingtostayfocusedontheroadandnotletting
myselfcompletelylosemyshitinthecar.Ilovedmyfather,buttheurgetoscream,
shout,andcurseathimwaspoundingthroughme.I’dthoughtwiththelastfewyears
ofmybeinggone,myparentswould’veloosenedtheirgripalittlebit.Butitsounded
likethey’donlybeenlyinginwaituntilIcamehometoresumetheircontrolover
mylife.
Ipulledatmynecklace,thejewelrysuddenlytoosnug.
“Ihavetogo.Wecantalkaboutthislater,”Isaidinarush,myinstinctsgoing
intocornered-rabbitmode.“I’mvisitingAndretonightandIdon’twanttobelate.”
Myfathergrunted.“Fine.Butwe’renotdonewiththisconversation.Andtellyour
brothertocallme.Iwanthimtoridedownwithyouwhenyoucomehome.It’sbeen
fartoolongsincehe’svisitedhisfamily.”
IwantedtoaskhimifIshouldinviteLuz,too.Myoldersisteronlylivedatown
overfrommyparents.ButIknewwhatmydad’sanswerwouldbe.Forgivenesswasone
giftmyfathernevergranted.Beingcutoutofthefamilywasapermanentcondition.
Mysister’snamewasn’tevenspokenanymore.
AndasIpulledinfrontofAndre’sbuilding,Iwonderedwhatmyfatherwoulddoif
heknewwhatI’ddonewithFosterandPike…orifIrefusedtoliveinthehouse
he’dofferedme,changedtheblueprintofmylife.
WouldIbediscarded,too?
Withadeepsigh,IgrabbedthesmallgiftI’dboughtforJace’sbrother,Wyatt,and
climbedoutofthecar.BythetimeImademywaytotheloftonthethirdfloor,
Iwasprayingthispartyhadalcohol,becauseIhadafeelinganervousbreakdown
waswaitinginthewingsformeotherwise.Onemorecrappythingtonight,andIwas
goingtoloseit.
Iknockedonthedoor,anditswungopenaminutelater,thespacefillingwiththe
imposingforcethatwasJaceAustin.Andre’sroommategrinnedwide,hisgreeneyes
litwiththekindofjovialeaseIlongedfor.“Well,ifitisn’ttheprettierMedina.”
Themanwasdownrightcontagious.Icouldn’thelpbutsmilebackasheswallowedme
withabearhug.“Hey,Jace.DepressedasusualIsee.”
Helaughedandsteppedback.“Youknowit.”
IwalkedinandsetthegiftontheentrywaytablewhileJaceclosedthedoorbehind
me.Theloftspacewasalreadyechoingwithconversation,Andresittingononeof
thecouchesandchattingwithWyatt.IhadonlymetWyattoncebefore,butIremembered
himbeingtheexactoppositeofwhatI’dexpectedhimtobe
I’danticipatedanolderversionofJace,buthecouldn’thavebeenmoredifferent.
WhereJacewaslaid-backandquickwithajoke,Wyatthadseemedquietandintense—intimidating.
I’dheardJacecallhimgenius,andIsuspectedthatwasmorethanaplayfulnickname.
Itwasnosecretthathewassecondincommandathisfather’sfinancialcompanyand
wasfreakingloaded.Butitwasobvioushisknowledgeextendedbeyondhisfield.When
he’dgottenintoadiscussionwithmeaboutanimaltesting,hisopinionsandastute
observationshadmademewonderifhe’dgottenamedicaldegreeontheside.Butwhen
I’djokedaboutasmuch,he’dshruggedandsaidhelikedtoreadmedicaljournals
inhisfreetime.
“Heythere,littlesis,”Andresaid,raisinghisbeerinacknowledgement.“Welcome.”
Wyattturnedandgreetedmeaswell,hissmilerestrainedbutgenuine.
“Drinksareinthekitchen,”Andreoffered.
“Youreadmymind.”
IheadedtowardthekitchenandfoundJace’sgirlfriend,Evan,beratingsomething
intheoven.“Twentyminutes,myass.”
Igrinned.“Idon’tthinkinsultingthefoodmakesitcookfaster.”
Evanturnedtowardme,thefrustrationmeltingfromherprettyface.“Hey,you.Long
time,nosee.”
Shecameoverandgavemeaquickhug,leavingflourmarksonmyblackblouse.
“Oh,hell,”shesaid,tryingtobrushitoffforme.“Ishouldn’tbetrustedwith
baking.Icancookameal,butletmenearanythinghavingtodowithcake,andI’m
asskilledasafive-year-oldwithanEasy-BakeOven.”
Iwavedheroff,theflourcomingoffeasily.“Everythingsmellsgreat.Sothatcounts
forsomething,right?AnythingIcandotohelp?”
Evanpushedherdarkbangsupherforehead,lookinglikesomefiftiesthrowbackwith
herfrillypolka-dotapron.“Grababeerandrelax.Igotthis.Mostly.”
“Allright,butyellifyouneedme.Ihavenobakingskillseither,butIknowhow
toputoutafire.”
Shelaughed.“Dulynoted.”
Imademywaybacktothelivingarea,butalltheguyshadmovedouttothebalcony.
Isnakedthroughthearrangementofcouchesandchairstowardthelargeslidingglass
doorthatledoutsideandpusheditopen.Thesoundofconversationabruptlyhalted
withmyentrance.Themenlookeduplikethey’dbeencaughtlookingatgirliemagazines.
Ihesitated.“Uh,sorry.AmIinterruptingsomesecretboys-onlymeeting?”
Wyattwasholdinganenvelopeandapieceofpaperinhishand.Heglancedbackdown
atit,someweirdexpressionmorphinghisdarkfeatures.Herubbedhisthumbover
theredwaxsealhe’dbrokenontheenvelope.
Jaceleanedbackinhischairandproppedhisanklesonthelowerbarofthebalcony’s
railing.“Nope,justgivingWyhisbirthdaygift.”
“Oh,”Isaid,takingatentativestepontothebalcony.“Whatisit?”
“J.”AndreshotJaceaquellinglook.
“Nobigdeal.Justacomplimentaryvisittoa…spacalledTheRanch,”Jacesaid,
ignoringmybrother’swarning.
Iloweredmyselfintooneofthechairs,anoh-that’s-niceresponsejumpingtomy
lips.Butthenthenamesettledonme,kickedmymemorybank.Mygazesnappedback
upwardandovertoWyatt.Hewascarefullyslidingthenotebackintotheenvelope.
“Uh,youreallyshouldn’thave,”Wyattsaid,hisvoiceandposturestiff.“I’mnot
reallyaspapersonanymore.”
Jace’smouthliftedatthecorner,obviouslyhavingwaytoomuchfunseeinghisbrother’s
discomfort.“Oh,no,it’sbeenwaytoolongsinceyou’verelaxed.Ithinkit’sexactly
whatyouneed.I’msurethey’llhavetreatmentstherethatwillwhipthatstressright
outofyou.”
Andrechokedonhisbeer,coughingloudlyandleaningforward,hisgazedartingto
me.Jacegavehimafriendlythumpontheback,andIstaredatmybrother,snippets
ofconversationcollidinginmyhead,mashingtogether.
TheRanch.AndrerecognizingFoster.Everycellinmybodyseemedtocringe.Oh,sweetJesus.ThingsIdidn’twanttothinkaboutfloodedmymind.Iwantedtoputmyhandsover
myeyesbutofcoursethatwouldn’thelpblockthementalpictures.
Andrestoodinaquickrush,settinghisbeeronthetable.“Ineedsomewater.Anyone
elsewantanything?”
TheyalldeclinedandAndredisappearedinsidewithoutanotherword.Jacesmiledas
ifnothinghadhappened.“So,Cela,areyouallreadytoheadbacktosouthTexas?
Dretoldmeyou’releavingsoon.”
Ittookmeasecondtoformaresponse,mymindstillreelingfromtheknowledgethat
mybrotherandhisfriendswerefamiliarwithaBDSMresort,Foster’sresort.Itookalongpulloffmybeer,tryingtobeatbackmyracingthoughts.“I
guessI’mready.”
Wyattsmoothedinvisiblewrinklesfromhisslacks.“Youdon’tsoundtooenthusiastic.”
Ishrugged.“I’mreadytobeavet.Justmaybenotsoreadytogobackhome.Living
herehaskindofgrownonme.”
Jacegrabbedahandfulofchipsfromthebowlinthecenterofthetable.“Sostay.
There’vegottabeanimalpracticesherethat’dbehappytohaveyou.”
Isighedandreachedforafewchipsaswell.“Thereare.Igotofferedagreatposition
attheplaceI’mworkingatnow.Butit’snotthateasy.Mydad’sbeengroomingme
totakeoverhispracticesinceIwasoldenoughtospelldog.He’sheldthespotformeandiscountingonmebeingthere.”
Wyattfrowned,hisdarkblueeyesevaluatingme.“Iknowwhatthat’slike.Inever
followedanyotherpaththanmyfather’sfootsteps.IthinkhemayhavehadaCEO-in-training
plaqueattachedtomycrib.”
“SoyouunderstandwhyIhavetogo,”Isaid,shovingachipinmymouthinanattempt
tochokedownthemorosefeelingsthatweretryingtowellup.
Jacesniffed,butkepthisopiniontohimself.
Wyattleanedbackinhischairandsettheenvelopeinhislap,histhumbstillplaying
overthewaxseal.“IknowthatIenjoywhatIdoandthatI’mbetteratitthananyone
elseinmyfamily’scompany.ButIalsohaven’tdonemuchelseinmylifebesides
work.I’vespentalotoftimedoingwhat’sbeenexpectedofmeandhavepassedby
manyunbeatenpathsthatmaybeIshould’vetried.”
Ilookeddownatmybeer,thewordslandingsolidlyonme.
WyattglancedatJace.“Sometimesforgingyourownpathisthewaytofindwhatyou’re
reallylookingfor.Lookatthisguy.Ithoughtforsurehe’dendupinprisonor
worse—onrealityTV.Butturnsouthe’sfoundhiswaytoaprettyhappylife.”
Jacesmirked.“You’vestillgotashittonmoremoneythanIdo,though.”
Wyattlaughed.“Well,thereisthat.”
Ismiled,theresponseautomatic,polite,butmyheadwasalreadychasingathought
Icouldn’tquitetearmyselfawayfrom.Ihauledmyselfupfromthechair.“I’mgoing
toseeifEvanneedsanyhelp.”
ButwhenIwalkedbackintotheair-conditioning,Iwasonthehuntforsomeoneelse.
Mybrother’smuffledlaughterdriftedfromdownthehallway.Iturnedonmyheeland
headedthatway,missioninmind.
ButwhenIreachedtheendofthehallwayandcaughtaglimpsethroughthepartially
opendoortooneofthebedrooms,Ifrozeinplace.Andre’sarmwaswrappedaround
Evan’swaist,andhisfacewasburiedagainstherneck,kissingit.Evan’seyeswere
closed,herheadtiltedbackwithanopenmouthedsmile.
“Stop,”shechided.“Ididn’tgetanyicingoverthere.”
Hisotherhanddriftedbeneathherskirt.“Whatabouthere?ShouldItakeataste
andfindout?”
Mybeerdroppedtothefloor,makingaracketbutnotbreaking.Andrerearedup,looking
towardthedooraslagerfizzedacrossthefloorboards.Iwantedtoyell,toturn
aroundandescape,butIwaslockedtothespot,outrageboilingupandover.
“Marcela.”Andrestrodeforward.
Evanstayedback,bitingherlip,worryinhereyes.
Andrepushedthedoorwideandreachedouttome,butthetouchsnappedmeoutof
mystunnedstate.Ishruggedoffhishand.“Whatthefuckareyoudoing?”
Inevercursedlikethat,especiallyaroundmyfamily,butnothingelsefitthesituation
ortheblindangerracingthroughme.Mybrother,theonewhomadehislivingonmaking
surepeopledidtherightthing,wasscrewinghisbestfriend’sgirl?
“Cela,listen,”Andresaid,raisinghishandslikeIwasadogthatcouldbite
“He’syourbestfriend,Andre!Yourbestfriend.Howcouldyoudothis?”Iasked,wantingtoshakehim,tothrowthingsthatwould
injure.
Heclosedhiseyes,tookabreath.“Evan,giveusaminute,okay?”
Evannoddedandhurriedpastthetwoofus,givingmewideberth.
“Idon’tneedaminute,”Isaid,watchingEvanwalkaway.“Nothingyoucansaymakes
thisokay.”
ItriedtoturnsoIcouldleave,butAndredidgrabformethistime,capturingmy
wristandtuggingmeintothebedroom.“Holdup.Sit.Weneedtotalk.”
Icrossedmyarms,refusingtosit.“Talk,then.”
Hesighedandrubbedahandoverthebackofhisneck,suddenlylookingliketheteenaged
versionofhimself,theonewhowasn’tsoself-assured.“Look,Iknowthisseemsbad,
butyouhavetotrustme.IhavegoodreasontokissEvan.”
“Sureyoudo.You’reapig.”
“Cela…”Hestaredbackatmelikehewassearchingfortherightwords.Asif
anyresponsecouldexplainawaywhatI’dseen.Ihadtoholdmyselfbackfromscreaming
athimsomemore.
Whennoresponsecame,Ishookmyhead,andtookasteptowardthedoor.“I’mleaving.”
“I’mwithher,too,”hesaidfinally.
Ibarelyresistedrollingmyeyesbutdidhaltmyexittolookathim.“Well,obviously.”
“No,Imean…Jaceknows.”
Mylipsparted,myjawgoingslack.“Hewhat?”
“HeknowsthatI’mwithher.”
BeforeIcouldblurtoutmydisbelief,heraisedapalm,cuttingoffmyresponse
“Ipromiseyouhe’sfinewithit.Iknowit’salottounderstandbecauseit’snot
thenorm.That’swhyIdidn’twanttotellyou.Butitworksforthethreeofus.
Weallloveeachotherandarehappybeingtogether.”
Iblinked,thewayhe’dsaidthelastpartgivingmepause.“All?”
Hewipedahanddownhisface,closinghiseyeslikeitwastoohardtolookatme
andansweratthesametime.“I’mwithJace,too.”
“With,”Irepeated,almostmoretomyself.“Likewith?”
Hegaveaslightnodofadmission.
“Holyshit,”Imurmuredandsatontheedgeofthebed,thetruthbreakingthrough
theneatstructureofmyreality.Mybrotherwasinarelationshipwithtwopeople.
Andbisexual?Mybrainhurt.“Anddidyoueverplanontellingmethis?”
Helookedaway,confirmingmysuspicionthatno,hewouldn’thave.“Iwantedtoprotect
you.Itwouldn’tbefairtoaskyoutokeepsuchabigsecretfromthefamily.”
Myparents.Oh,God.IfmyfatherevenhadasuspicionthatAndrewasinterestedin
guys,it’dbeArmageddonalloveragain.Isuspectedthismayevenbeahigheroffense
tohimthanmysister’steenpregnancyandabortion.He’dhavethepriestoverfor
anexorcism.
“AndIdidn’tknowwhatyouwouldthink,”Andresaid,hisvoicequiet.
Ipeeredupathimthen,catchingtherarevulnerabilityinhisdarkeyes.God,how
couldheevenhaveworriedaboutwhatI’dthink?Ilovedhim.Thatdidn’tcomewith
conditions.“WhatIthinkisthatIwantyoutobehappy.Iftheymakeyouhappy,
thenthat’sallIneedtoknow.I’mjusthurtthatyoudidn’tfeellikeyoucould
sharethatwithme.Thatyou’dthinkI’djudgeyou.”
Hesighedandsatdownnexttomeonthebed.“Iguesspartofmestillfeelslike
you’remybabysisterandtooyoungtoknowthatkindofthingaboutme.”
“I’mtwenty-three,Dre.I’mnotatoddler.”
Hislipscurved.“Iknow.”
Thenanotherthoughthitme,andIpunchedhimhardinthearm.“OhmyGod,andyou
totallyjumpedmycaseforbeingwithtwoguys.Meanwhile,you’redoingthesamedamn
thing!”
Hegrabbedhisarm,rubbingthespotI’dhit.“Hey,doasIsaynotasIdo.”
“That’sbullshit,”Ideclared.“Andyou’resogoingtomakethatuptome.”
Heliftedaneyebrow.“Oh,really.AndhowamIgoingtodothat?”
Ipressedmylipstogether,thinkingoftheearliertalkwithmyfatherandthenwith
Wyatt,theplanthathadcometomindwhenI’dseenthatwax-sealedenvelope.And
IknewexactlyhowAndrecouldpaymeback.“You,dearbrother,aregoingtotake
yourlittlesistertoTheRanch.”
Heshotoffthebedlikearomancandlehadbeenshoveduphisass.“ThehellIam.
That’snotevenkindofanoption.Youdon’tknowwhattypeofplace,whatkindof
stuff,whathappens…”
“Ido.Andyouwill.IhavesomeoneIneedtotalktowho’sthereanditcan’twait.”
Istoodupandstraightenedmyskirt.“Aftercake,we’regoingonaroadtrip.”
“Cela,”hewarned.
“Ifyoudon’t,I’llgettheaddressfromJaceandgomyself.”
Linesappearedaroundhismouth.“Theywon’tletyouin.It’smembersandtheirguests
only.”
“Young,innocentwomanwantingtotryoutsomenewthings.I’mguessingIcouldconvince
someonetohelpmeoutandgetmein.”
Hegroaned.“Dirtyfighting,Marcela.”
Ismiledandgrabbedhishand.“Ilearnedfromthebest.Now,comeon.Cake!”
Hegrippedmyhand,haltingmefrommyexit,andIturnedback.Hiseyesweresearching.
“Whyareyoudoingthis,Cela?Whatpurposecoulditserve?You’releavinginafew
days.”
Iwetmylips,nervoustosaythewordsaloudeventhoughthey’dbeenfloatingthrough
mybrainforlongerthanI’dcaretoadmit.“MaybeIwon’t.”
“Oh,Cela,”hesaidonawearysigh,hishandreleasingmine.“Don’tdothis.Not
foraguy.”
Ilookedaway,unabletodealwiththatbig-brotherstareandthatdisappointededge
inhisvoice.“MaybeI’mdoingitforme.”
“Sureyouare.”Hesteppedovertomeandpressedakisstothecrownofmyhead.
“ButI’mnotgoingtobePapá.Yourlife,yourdecision.I’lldriveyououtthere
ifthat’swhatyoureallywant.”
Iwrappedmyarmsaroundhiswaistandhuggedhim.“Thanks,Dre.”
Tonightwouldprobablyturnouttobeahugemistake.Clearly,Andrethoughtitwas.
Butitwasmymistaketomake.
Icouldn’twalkaway.
Notyet.PARTV
NOTUNTILYOUBEG
TWENTY-ONE
“Thereitis,”Andresaidaswecruiseddownthedesertedhighwayataspeedonlyacopcouldgetawaywith.
“Wow,”Imurmured.
Thelargestoneandcedarbuildingcutanimpressivesilhouetteagainstthestar-flecked
domeofsky,thebehemothseemingtogrowstraightoutofthesprawlinglandaround
it.Warmlightsglowedfromsomeofthewindowsandthefrontentrance,buteverything
elseaboutTheRanchscreamed,Exclusive!Private!
AndresloweddownaswedrovebyasignforWater’sEdgeVineyardsHecruisedpasttheentranceforthatbuildingandturnedleftontoanunmarkeddrive
aquartermilefartherdown.Awide,lowgatestretchedacrosstheroad,andhepulled
toastop.
“Thisplaceisatavineyard?”Iasked,squintingtoseeifIcouldmakeoutanyof
thegroundsinthedark.
Andrerolleddownhiswindowandpressedhisthumbtoatouchpadthatwasmostly
coveredbycreepingvines.ThemachinescannedAndre’sfingerprint,thelittlegreen
lightpiercingtheblanketofnightaroundthem.Thesmellofwildflowersdrifted
intothecar.“Theowner,GrantWaters,ownsboth.Hetellsanyonewhoasksthatthe
bigbuildingishisprivateresidence.”
Thetouchpadbeepedandthelargewoodengate,whichlookedfarfromelectronicto
thenakedeye,swungopensmoothly.Andrepulledforward,gravelcrunchingbeneath
thetires.
“Howdopeopleevenfindoutaboutthisplace?”
Hegavemeasidewaysglance,hisexpressionunreadableintheneardarkness.“The
localBDSMcommunityisprettytight.Youknowtherightpeople,havetherightamount
ofmoney,andyou’llhearaboutthisplace.”
Ignawedonthatforamoment.“Sothisisyourthing,too?”
“I’lltake‘ThingsIDon’tWanttoDiscusswithMySister’forfivehundred,Alex.”
Ihuffed.“Stopbeingsuchaprude.Afterwhatyoutoldmetonightaboutyou,Jace,
andEvan,Idon’tthinkmuchelsecouldshockme.”Thenanotherthoughthitme.“Wait
asecond,ifthisplaceissoeliteandexpensive,howdidyougetin?Nooffense,
butIcan’timagineadetective’ssalaryqualifies.”
Hesighed,drumminghisfingersagainstthesteeringwheel.“No,itdoesn’t.Just
theapplicationfeeforadomistengrand,thenthereareannualfees.”
“Holyshit,”Isaid,unabletostopmyself.HadFosterspentthatmuchtocomehere?
That’dpayforrentonhisapartmentforalmostayear.
“ButIcameinasJace’sguestandgottoknowtheowner.Hewaivedthefee.Plus,
Ithinkhelikeshavingacoponthepremisesifneeded.”
Andrepulledintotheparkingareaandfoundaspot.Iglancedaroundatalltheluxury
vehicleslinedupinthecrudecountrylot,amazedbythenumber.Therewerethis
manypeopleoutatsomesexresortonaFridaynight?Iscannedthelottoseeif
IcouldcatchsightofFoster’sSUV,butIdidn’tknowcarswellenoughtodistinguish
betweenoneortheotherinthescantmoonlight.
Andrecuttheengine,thenheldontothesteeringwheel,staringforward,notmoving.
“What’swrong?”
Theseatgroanedbeneathhimasheadjustedhimselftoturntowardme.“I’mtrying
tostopmyselffromdrivingyoubackhomeoratleastputtingmyhandsoveryoureyes
whenwewalkin.I’mnotashamedofthislifestyle,butIcan’thelpwantingtoshelter
youfromitall.Thingsherecanbeintense.Can’tyouwaituntilFoster’sbackhome,
andyoucantalktohimthen?”
Ishookmyhead.I’dconsideredthat.ButknowingFosterwasherehadurgencybuilding
inme.IknewIhadtoldhimgood-bye,thatIhadnorighttobejealousifhewas
withsomeotherwomantonight.Buteventhethoughtofhimtouchinganotherhadme
readytostormthecastleandtakehimhostage.“Ineedtoseehimtonight.Here.
Inhiselement.”
Herbrotherstilldidn’tlookconvinced.“Cela,you’re…”
“Goingtobefine,”Ifinishedforhim.“Dre,Ithinkit’ssweetthatyoustillwant
toprotectme,Ido.ButI’mtiredofalwaysdoingwhatI’m‘supposed’tojustto
makesureyou,Papá,andMamácanfeellikeI’msafeinmylittlebubble.”Mygaze
sweptoverthebuilding.“There’saguyintherewhomademefeelreally,trulyalive
forthefirsttimeinmaybeforever.I’mnotpretendingtounderstandallofthis
orevenmyreactiontoit.Andhemayrunmeoutofthere.ButifIdon’tgetanswers
tosomequestions,I’malwaysgoingtowonder.”
Andrestaredatmeforalongfewsecondsandthenthecornerofhismouthlifted
likeawhiteflag,signalingmyvictory.Hereachedoutandtouchedthetipofmy
nose.“Whenyou’dgetsogrownup?”
Isnortedandreachedforthedoorhandle.“Apparently,duringthetimeyouwerefalling
inlovewithyourharem.”
“Touché.”Helaughedandclimbedoutofthecar.“And,fortherecord,Jacewould
betotallyoffendedthatyoucalleditmyhareminsteadofhis.”
“Wouldhenow?”Igotoutandpeeredatmybrotherfromoverthetopofthecar,a
questionhoveringonthebackofmytongue.Ishouldn’task,butIcouldn’thelpmyself.
CuriosityandIweretoooldoffriends.“SoisJacetheone,youknow,incharge
ofthingswithintherelationship?”
Icouldn’timagineanyonebossingmybrotheraround,buttherewassomethingabout
Jacethatscreamedconfidentauthority—apresenceabouthim.
Andreleanedhisforearmsalongthetopofthecar,hiseyeswaryagain.“Isitimportant
foryoutoknow?”
Ifiddledwiththestrapofmypurse,tryingtolooknonchalant.“Ijust,well,I’m
newtoallthis,andIwaswonderingifthewholesubmissivethingmeansaperson
isweakorscreweduporsomething.”
“Oh,babygirl,”mybrothersaid,histonegoingsoft.“Ofcoursenot.”
ButIcouldn’tstopnowthatthefearwasspillingout.“Imean,Papáhasalwayswanted
torulemylifeandIhatethat—God,doIhatethat.SowhywouldIlikeitifsome
guytookcontrol?WhywouldIwantthat?”
“Hey,”hesaidgentlyashewalkedaroundthefrontofthecar.“Lookatme.Doyou
thinkI’mweakorscrewedup?DoyouthinkEvanis?”
“No.Well,you’realittlescrewedup,butnotinanypadded-roomkindofway,”I
glancedupwithasmallsmile.“YouandEvanarebothsubmissive?”
“Evanis,yes.I’maswitch,soIcanenjoybothsides.Whatyoulikeinthisarena
doesn’tnecessarilytranslatetowhoyouareoutsideofit.Andittakesjustasmuch
personalstrengthtosubmit,maybemore,asitdoestobethedominantone.”
Inodded,hiswordsgivingmemorereassurancethanIexpected.Ifsomeoneastough,
bossy,andhardheadedasmybrothercouldbesubmissiveevensomeofthetime,then
itsureashellcouldn’tbeasignofweakness.“Thanks,Dre.”
Hesmiledbutthenpointedafirmfingertowardme.“Butthatdoesn’tmeanyoushould
jumpintothiswithoutexaminingeverythingclosely.Itcantakeawhiletofigure
outifthiskindofthingisreallyforyou.Andwhileyou’reexploring,youneed
tomakesureyou’rewithsomeonewhoiswell-trainedandtrustworthy,aguywhoisn’t
goingtotakeadvantageofyourinexperience.”
“Youcouldn’tresistonemorewarning,couldyou?”Iasked,pokinghisshoulder.“And
don’tworry.Ihavejusttheguyinmind.”
Hegrunted,obviouslystillnotsoldonthiswholeidea,butkepthiscommentsabout
Fostertohimself.
Ihitchedmypursehigheronmyshoulder.“Allright,bigbrother,I’mready.Time
togetyourbabysisterintothedenofiniquity.”
“Ay,diosmío.”Hetiltedhisfacetotheheavensashethrewanarmovermyshoulders.“I’mso
goingstraighttohell.”
—
Fosterpacedalongthedeadlyquiethallway,thedarkredwallsseemingtopulsearoundhimintimewithhisthumpingheartbeat.Heturnedup
thevolumeonhisearbuds,tryingtodrownouttheoppressivesilencewiththeindie
rockplaylistPikehadputtogetherontheiPod.Thesconcesalongthewallshadbeen
dimmedlow,buteventhesubtlelightseemedtoomuchforFoster’sedgysenses.He
closedhiseyesandtriedtofocusonthegrindingbeatofthemusic,ongettinginto
theheadspaceheneededtobeinforhisrole.
Lasttimehe’dcometoTheRanchhe’dtotallyblownit.Asubmissivehe’dplayedwith
beforehadrequestedtoscenewithhim,andhe’dagreed,hopingtochaseawaythe
visionofCelainherpaint-spatteredclothes,wearinghurtinhereyes.Butassoon
ashe’dgottenthegirlrestrained,he’dlostalldesiretocontinue.He’dbailed
andhadtocalloveranotherdomheknewshe’dplayedwithbeforetogiveherthe
whippinghehadplanned.
Buttonighthewasdeterminedtomoveforward,tostophangingontosomethingthat
couldn’tbe.Celawouldbegonesoon.He’dsteeredclearofhersinceshe’dlefthis
apartment.Hangingoutwithherwouldonlyleadtohimtryingtotalkherintostaying,
askinghertochangeafutureshe’dworkedhardfortobewithhim—somethingthat
would’vebeenentirelyself-serving.
No,thingshadtoendthewaytheydid.Heknewthedifferencebetweenasexual,we’re-good-together-in-bed
connectionandonethathadthepotentialtoignitethatall-encompassing,be-mine
dominantsideofhimself.Celawasn’tthekindofgirltoplaywith,shewasthekind
hewantedtoown—asubmissivetotrain,cherish,andspoil.He’dfeltthebeginning
ofthefallthesecondhe’dkissedheronthatdancefloor,knewthattheplungewouldn’t
havebeenfarbehind.
Hegroanedandrubbedhishandoverhisjawasheleanedagainstthewall.Focus,Foster.Stopthinkingabouther.Grant,TheRanch’sowner,hadcometohimhalfanhourearlier,askinghimifhe
wasupforsceningwithasubmissivewhohadastrangerfantasy.Fosterusuallyliked
agoodrole-play,andGrantknewhecouldbetrustedwithaninexperiencedsub.But
theexcitementthatusuallycamewithsuchanideahadn’tmaterialized.Evenso,Foster
haddownedtherestofhisclubsodaandagreed.Somethingneededtosnaphimout
ofthisruminating.
Soherehestood,tryingtopsychhimselfupashewaitedforoneofthedungeonmonitors
tohelpthesubgetsetupontheothersideofthedoor.Granthadtoldhimthat
thewomandidn’twanttoknowhisidentity.She’dbeblindfoldedandboundandwas
opentohimbeingalittlerough.Finebyhim.Hecouldstandtogetsomefrustration
out.Ifhecouldgethisbraininorderandstayinrolethatis.
Colby,oneofTheRanch’strainers,steppedoutoftheroom,shuttingthedoorbehind
him,andFosterpulledtheearbudsout.ColbynoddedatFoster.“She’sreadyforyou
andhasbeeninformedofthesafewords.”
“Thanks,”hesaid,rollinghisshoulders,tryingtopushtheuneasefromhissystem.
“Gotchaaprettyoneinthere,Foster,”Colbysaid,hisHoustontwangfillingupthe
quiethallway.“Butnervous.”
FostertuckedhisiPodintotheoutsidepocketofhistoybag.“Nervousgoodornervous
freakedout?”
“Alittleofboth,”hesaid,givingapleasedsmilethatonlyafellowdominantcould
appreciate.
“Beautiful.Thanks,man.”
Colbyheadedbackdownthehallway,leavingFosterstandinginfrontofthethick
soundproofdoor.Therewerediscreetcamerasinsidethatwouldallowthestaffto
monitorthingsforsafety,butheknewthatthesubintherewouldfeeltotallyisolated
andalonenonetheless.Hetookadeepbreath,channelinghisdominance,bringingeverything
intofocus.Asubmissivedeservednothinglessthanhisfullattention.Shedidn’t
deserveadominantwhowasthinkingofsomeoneelse.
Afteronemorecleansingbreath,heturnedtheknobandopenedthedoor.Itwaswarmer
insidethaninthehallway,candlesthrowingflickeringlightaroundthelushspace.
He’dchosentheplayroomthatmostresembledahigh-endhotelsuiteoveroneofthe
dungeonsorthemedrooms.Mostwomenwhowantedthestrangerfantasyusuallyliked
theideaofmeetingsaidstrangerinareal-lifetypeofsetting.
Heshutthedoorbehindhimslowly,givinghiseyestimetoadjusttothechangein
lighting,andenjoyedthesharplittlebreathheheardfromacrosstheroomwhenthe
doorclickedshut.Yes,shewasnervousallright.Hecouldalmostsmellheranticipation
mixingwiththesoftvanillascentofthecandles.Vanilla.Healwaysthoughtitamusing
thatGrantonlystockedTheRanchwiththatparticularscent.Theguyhadasense
ofhumor.Fosterblinked,waitingforhisvisiontosharpen,andthendrewinhis
ownsharpbreath.
Atthebaseofalarge,four-posterbedwastheoutlineofawomanonherknees,back
exposed.Herarmswerestretchedupandout,cuffedtothebed’sposts,andherdark
hairwasloosedownherback,theendsbrushingthetopofagorgeous,heart-shaped
ass.Ahard,tremblingachewentthroughhim.Ofallthewomenhecould’veplayed
withtonight,theuniversewasgoingtotorturehimwithonewholookedlikethevery
onehecouldn’thave.Hesethistoybagonnearbytable,hishandshakingmorethan
heliked.
“I’mhere,”hesaid,thewordsharshinthethicksilence.
Herarmssaggedinthechains,herheaddippingforward—inrelieforsurrender,he
wasn’tsure.“Thankyou,Iwasn’tsureyou’dcome.”
Thesoftnessofhervoice,thewayherconsonantsrolledovereachother,wentstraight
tohiscockandnudgedatsomethinginhisbrain.Hewethislips,aweirdelectric
feelingcracklingoverhisskin.Hesteppedcloser,lettingherhearhisheavyfootsteps,
feelhispresence.“Tellmewhyyou’rehere.”
Herfingerstwistedaroundthechains,herbodyrockingwiththatedgeofnerves.
“BecauseIdon’twanttobeanywhereelse.”
Theresponsehithimlikeaswiftblowtohissternum,hervoicemorphinginhisears
intoCela’s.Herubbedhisforehead,asickfeelingknottinghisinsides.Nowhewas
goingtoturneverywomanintoaversionofher?
Heletoutalong,frustratedbreath.“Standupandturnaround.”
Herbodywentstillforamoment,obviouslysurprisedbythecommand.Butafterthe
beatofhesitation,sherosetoherfeetandturned,crossingherhandsaboveher
headtoaccommodatethebindings.Shekeptherheaddown,herhaircurtainingher
blindfoldedface.
Herbreastssathighinherlacyblackbra,andthewarmglowofhergoldenskincould
inspireprayersofworship,butFostercouldn’tbringhimselftotakeadvantage.He
couldplaythejerkwhenneeded,buthecouldn’tuseasubwhilethinkingofanother
woman.
“I’msorry,sweetheart.Ican’tdothis.”Hereachedouttoliftherchinandpull
herblindfoldoff.Butwhentheswathofblacksilkfellaway,everythinginsidehim
seemedtoshortcircuit.
Cela’sdarkeyesblinkedbackathim,herteethtuggingatherbottomlip.“Hi.”
Hestaredbackather,wonderingforamomentifhereallyhadlosthismindandwas
havingvisions.Thetwoworldshelivedinsmashedintoeachotherlikecarsgoing
thewrongdirectiononthehighway.ThesightofCelahere,inthisplace,wasalmost
toomuchforhisbraintocompute.“Whatthefuckareyoudoinghere?”
Shewinced,andheimmediatelyregrettedthecoarsewords.Buthisfilterhadshut
downalongwitheverythingelse.
“Iforcedmybrothertogetmein,”shesaid,atinytremorweavingthroughhervoice.
“Youwhat?Why?”Bloodrushedthroughhisearsinadeafeningroar.Evenwiththe
confusion,hisbodywasreactingtoherpresence,seeingherlikethisinfrontof
him.Hiscockpressedagainsthisleathers,andhehadtofisthishandsathissides
sohewouldn’ttouchher—ordemandshetouchhim.
“Iwantedtoseeyou.Neededtoseeyou…”Hergazetraveleddownthelengthof
him,hercheeksdarkeninginawaythatmadehisskinfeeltoohot.
Herakedahandthroughhishair,hislibidoandgoodsensewagingabattleinside
him.“Cela,angel,you’rekillingme.Weagreedtonomore.”
“Youdon’twantmehere?”
“Wantyou?”Hescoffed.Theuniversereallydidwanttofuckwithhimtonight.“That’s
anunderstatement.Youstandingherelikethisislikewavingthemosttemptingof
fantasiesinfrontofme.Butyouknowwhywecan’t.”
“BecauseI’mleaving.”
“Yes,”hesaid,frustrationbuilding,makinghisbackteethclamptogether.Whydid
shehavetocomehereandmakeitworse—extendthetorture?Maybeshewasthesadist.
“Soaskmetostay,”shesaid,hervoiceasunsteadyasthecandlelightflickering
wildlyinhisperipheralvision.
Herwordstookamomenttotranslateinhistwisted-upmind.Thenithithim—what
shewasreallysuggesting.“What?”
Shesmoothedherlipgloss,hernervespalpable.“Ihaven’tbeenabletostopthinking
abouttheothernight.Oranyofthenightswithyou,really.Idon’t—Idon’tunderstand
this.AndI’mscared.I’mnotgoingtopretendI’mnot.Idon’tknowifIcaneven
be…submissive.ButeversinceIgraduated,anytimeIthinkofmovinghome,I
can’tevenpictureit—leavingmyplace,leavingachanceatajobIknowIwouldlove,
andnow,leavingyou.”
Heclosedhiseyes,thewordseverythinghewantedtohearbutnothinghecouldaccept.
“Angel,Ican’taskyoutostay.Youhaveawholelifewaitingforyou.Whatifyou
walkawayfromallofthatandthisdoesn’tworkout?You’veonlyseenasliverof
whoIam.Youmayhatebeingsubmissive.Itmaymakeyouhateme.”
Thethoughtterrifiedhimdowntohismarrow—theideaofhersubmittingtohim,then
realizingshewantedsomethingelse,someoneelse,andwalkingawayafterhewasalready
halfinlovewithher.
Shesmiled.“Thisisn’tamarriageproposal,Foster.Iunderstandthatthiscould
blowupinmyfaceatanymoment.ButwhatifIleaveandrealizethiswasreal,that
thisfeelingIonlygetwithyouismorethaninitialattraction?Iwouldn’tbestaying
foryou.I’dbestayingforme.I’mtiredoffollowingsomescriptsomeoneelsewrote
forme.IwanttoliveinaplaceIchoose.Iwantajobthatexcitesandchallenges
me.”Shelookeddirectlyathim,hereyesfierce.“Iwanttotrythis—withyou.”
“Cela…”Desirewrestledwiththecoldfearcurlingaroundhisgut.Heknewwhat
shewassaying.Thiswasn’tIwanttobeyoursubmissive.ThiswasI’mcuriousandwantyoutoshowmewhythisexcitesme.Whatthey’ddonetogetherhadstirredupthingsinsideherthatshedidn’tunderstand.
Homeforhermeantthestatusquo,thelifeshe’dalwayshad.Herepresentedtheunknown,
thewild,therebellion.Andrightnow,withalltheoutsidepressuresonher,she
wantedtorebel.
Sheheldhisgaze,hereyesshinyintheambientlight.“Ican’tpromiseyouthat
everythingisgoingtoworkout.Thisisagamble.Forbothofus.I’maskingyou
totakeitwithme.”
Hereachedout,fingeringalockofherhair,herboldbraverywrenchingsomething
insidehim.Evenrealizingthiswasprobablyapassingwhimforher,hecouldn’thelp
butrecognizethatshewaslayingwaymoreonthelinethanhecouldeverhaveasked
herto.Puttingherjobbackhomeandplansonhold.Nottomentionbeingwilling
totryalifestyleshehadnoexperiencewith.
Likeeverythingelsewithher,hefoundithardtosaynotothatkindofleapof
faith.“Whatwillhappenifyoutellyourdadyou’renotcominghometohelphim?”
Hergazeshiftedaway.“Itwon’tbegood.”
Hefrowned.“Angel,Idon’twantyoutomessupthingswith—”
“Youweresupposedtohelpmefinishmylist,right?”shesaid,cuttinghimoff.“So
here’stherest:NeverhaveIever…beeninarealrelationship.Iknowwe’re
notthereyet.Anditscaresthecrapoutofmetoevensaythatwordoutloud.But
Ifeelsomethingdifferentwithyou.AndIknowIdon’thavealotofexperience,
butI’veneverfeltthatbefore.Idon’twanttowalkawaywithoutknowingifthis
isreal.”Sheglancedupatherchainedhands,thenbacktohim.“So,ifyou’llhave
me,Iwanttobewithyou,IanFoster.Iwanttofeelwhatit’sliketosubmitto
you,sir.”
Hewassupposedtorespond,tosaysomethingromanticandbrilliant,butherwords
hadknockedhimrightonhisass.Shewantedtostay.Shewantedtoseewhatitwas
liketobehis.Andshewasthrowingseriouswordsouttherelikerealandrelationship.Hisheartthumpedagainsthisribs.Theriskofstartingsomethingwithsomeone
whocouldaffecthimthisquickly,thisthoroughly,wasdownrightdangerous.He’d
falleninlove—orthoughthehad—oncebeforeandhadbeenblindsidedwhenshe’dended
it.Butstandingthere,watchingCela,breathingherin,hearinghertakeholdof
whatshewanted,hadtemptationtramplingoverallthewarningsignsthatwerepopping
upinhispath.
Celawaswillingtotakeariskonhim.Shouldn’thebebraveenoughtodothesame?
Ifhedidn’thavetheballstotrysomethingwithher,thenwhatkindofcowardwas
he?
Hebrushedhisknucklesalongthebutter-softskinofhercheek,allowinghimself
forthefirsttimetobelievethatthiscouldwork,thatmaybethebottomwouldn’t
alwaysfalloutfromunderhim.Itwasascarythingtoevenconsiderthathope.
“Whatdoyousay?”shequestioned,herwordsholdingcaution.
Heranhisthumboverherplumpbottomlip.“You’resogreentoallofthis,angel.
Itwon’tbeeasy.Ifyoureallywanttodothis,Iwouldneedtotrainyouonhow
tosubmit.Wouldneedtoshowyouwhatthistrulyentails.”
Shetiltedherchinupward.“I’maquickstudy.”
Hesmiled,warmthspreadingthroughhisbodylikeafast-growingvineasthenotion
tookhold.“ThenIcan’timagineanythingIcouldwantmorethanhavingyoustay.”
Herlashesfellagainsthercheeks,everythinginherstaturegivingway—naturalbreathtaking
submissiveness.“I’mallyours,sir.”
Thestatementstruckhimonanelementallevel,echoedsomethinghedesperatelycraved.
Buthewasn’tgoingtolethimselfbelieveityet.Theideaofsubmissionwasquite
differentfromthereality.Hewouldneedtotrainherwithoutkidgloves.Notshow
herjustthepleasantpartslikehe’ddonewithDarcy.Ifshecouldsurvivethatwithout
runningaway,thenmaybe…justmaybe,hecouldstarttohope.
“Thankyou,angel.”Hekissedherforehead,breathinginherscent.
Thenheunhookedhercuffsandliftedherontothebed.
Lessonscouldstartlater.
Rightnowhejustneededtobeinsideher.TWENTY-TWO
Mmm.Ishiftedbeneaththecovers,mylegsslidinglanguidlythroughtheluxuriouslinensasmyminddriftedinthathazebetweensleepingand
wakefulness.Pitch-blackdarknesspressedagainstmyeyelids,andIfeltasifIwere
floatinginasun-heatedocean,thewavesrockingmegently.Myskinhadgonewarm
allover,andsomesoundwasdriftingfrommylips,butIcouldn’tquitegrabonto
whatIwastryingtosay.
“Timetowakeup,angel.”Thestatementwasquiet,asifcomingfromaplacejust
outofmyreach.
Wakeup…wakeup…Butbeforemymindcouldgrabontothewordsortheirmeaning,somethingwarmand
wetmovedbetweenmythighs,strokingme.Thatvaultedmerighttothesurfaceof
consciousness.Myeyelidsflewopeninthedarkness,andIautomaticallytriedto
reachout,butmyarmsjerkedbackward—boundtosomethingbehindme
Teethnibbled.
“Oh,God.”
Fosterlaughedsoftly,hispuffsofbreathcoastingovermyalreadydampskin.“There
youare.Iwasstartingtowonderifyouweregoingtocomeinyoursleep.”
Helickedmeagainrightalongmycleft,andItriedtopushmykneestogether.But,
ofcourse,mylegsdidn’tcooperate.“Ican’tmove.”
“Kindofthepoint.”Histonguecircledmyclit,teasingandtastinglikehewasexploring
meforthefirsttimeeventhoughhe’dbeendeepinsidemeonlyafewhoursago.A
languidrushofohyeswentthroughmynerveendings,mybodyrespondingasifI’dnevercomebefore,everything
stirringtolifeandachingalready.
Imoanedandhetuckedfingersinsidemewhilelavingatmysensitizedskin.Myback
curvedupwardoffthebed,andmygazerolledtowardtheceiling.Everythingwasso
black,thewindowlessroomprovidingnorelief—anabyssofpleasureandfeelingwithout
thedistractionofsight.Butbeforemyeyesshutagain,asmallreddotinthefar
corneroftheroomsnaggedmyattention.
“Foster,”Iwhispered.
“Hmm”hesaid,obviouslydistractedwithhisstrategicdestructionofeverybitof
myself-control.Becauseevenasanxietywaswelling,mymusclesweretighteningand
myhipswererockingtowardhim,urginghimon.
“What’sthatredlightfor?”
Therewasthesoundofsheetsrustlingandthenlittlesparks—thedarksoabsolute
thatIcouldseethestaticelectricityfiring.Hekissedtheinsideofmyknee,and
Icouldsensehewaslookingatmenow,hisgazeholdingweighteveninthevoid.
“It’sacamera,angel.Alotoftheroomsherearemonitored.”
Myheartjumpedinmythroatandlodgedthere.“Peoplearewatchingus.”
“Shh,”hesaid,kissingdownmythighagain.“It’snotforpublicviewing—wecould
openthewindowbythedoorifwewantedthat.It’sonlydungeonmonitorswhokeep
aneyeonthingsforsafetyreasons.”
“Cantheyseeusinthedark?”Iasked,myvoicesoundingtinyinthecavernousroom.
“Iimagineso.Grantdoesn’tspareexpenseonequipment.”Hishandgrippedmythigh
withgentlepressure.“Butrelax,Cela.You’resafeherewithme.Yourprivacyis
protected.”
“HowcanIknowthatforsure?”Isuddenlyfeltbeyondvulnerable—nakedandtieddown
inthedark.
“Becauseyoutrustme,”hesaidsimply.“That’syouronlyjobwithme—totrust.I
wouldneverputyouatrisk.AndIpromiseyou,thatifyou’regoingtobemine,you’re
goingtoneedtogetusedtobeingexposedattimes.Rememberthatlaundrylistof
mineItoldyouabout?”
“Yes.”Hisfingerswereworkinginsidemeagain,andIwashavingtroubleholding
ontomyfear,therhythmic,mind-meltingmotiondrawingallofmyenergytowardthe
needforrelease.
“Beingwatchedkindofturnsmeon,angel.”
Iwrithedashecurledhisfingerstorubonthatspotthatmadeeverythingwantto
breakopeninsideme.“Oh…”
“AndIsuspect,ifyoureallyletyourselfthinkaboutit—letyourselfimaginesomeone
ontheothersideofthatcameragettinghotbecauseyou’resofuckingsexyspread
outlikethisforme,youmightkindalikeit,too.”
Iwhimpered.
“Andevenifyoudon’t,you’lldoitbecauseitpleasesme.”
Hismouthsettledovermeagain,andwhitelightleakedintothedarkbehindmyeyelids.
Ibowedupandtheimagesdriftedfrommymind.AllthatwasleftwasFoster,inthe
dark,histongueandfingersbringingmepastthepointofshame.Astadiumcould’ve
beenwatchingatthemoment,andIprobablywouldn’thavecared.
Hesuckedonmyclitandmovedathirdfingerinsideme.Mycontrolsplintered,and
Icriedout,buckingagainstthebindingsandrocketingintothearcofrelease.He
heldontome,hismouthworkingmewithexpertprecisionasIturnedintosomemindless,
beggingthing.
Then,asifattunedtomybodyinawayevenIwasn’t,heslowlybackedoff,easing
medownfromtheorgasmwithsofttouchesandwordsuntilIstoppedwrithing.Then
hewasunhookinganankleandawristandrollingmeontomyside.Thesoundofa
foilwrapperbeingtornopenregisteredinmybuzzingbrain.Hotnakedskinpressed
againstmyback,thecoarsehaironhischestbrushingme,andahandgrippedmebelow
theknee.“Openforme,Cela.Ineedyou.”
Fosterguidedmykneetowardmychest.ThearmandlegofthesideIwaslyingon
werestilltethered,soIcoulddonothingbutlethimputmeinposition.Thenhe
wasslidingdeep,histhickheatpushingovertender,needytissues.Imoanedagain,
notsureIcouldhandlemorestimulation.Butashebandedanarmaroundmeandstroked
mewithgentlerfingersthanbefore,Iknewtherewasnofightingit.Thismanknew
exactlyhowtowringeverydropofpleasureoutofme,whetherIwasexhaustedor
not.Mybodywantedtogiveittohim.
Hewasinnohurry,nosprinttohisownfinishline.Instead,heseemedtobesavoring
anddrinkinginthesensationwitheverylong,lazystroke.Adreamloversneaking
intomydreamsandslayingmewithmurmuredwordsandsurehands.
AndIknewitwasbecausewewerebothtired.
Anditwaslate.
Anddark.
Butitfeltdifferent.Special.Likemakingloveinsteadofjustsex.OrwhatIimagined
makinglovewouldfeellike.
AndeventhoughIknewitwastoosoon,Iwantedittobeso.Thosefeelings.
Withoutbeingabletoholditback,anotherorgasmrushedtowardme—languidandlush.
Hitchedbreathspassedmylips,andhisarmtightenedaroundme.ThenFosterwasgroaning
andthrustingtothehilt,fillingmewithhisownreleaseandholdingmeagainst
himlikehewasafraidI’dvaporizeanddisappear.
Minuteslater,heremainedburiedinme.Hekissedmyshoulder,myneck—thescent
ofhisshampoo,sweat,andmyownarousaldriftingoverme.Hisstubblescrapedacross
mycheekashelaidhisheadagainstmine.“Ishouldprobablymove.”
“Mmm,”Imumbled,notreadyforhimtogoanywhere.“Movingissooverrated.”
Hemurmuredanagreementbutslidoutofmeanywayandrolledawaybriefly,probably
takingcareofthecondom.ButbeforeIcouldevencatchthechilloftheroom,his
heatwasbackagainstme,cocooningme.Heunhookedmyarmfromthecuffandrubbed
mywristgently.“We’llhavetoleaveonceit’smorning.Theroomisn’tourstokeep.”
“Boo.”
Hetuckedmeclosertohimandpulledthecoversfullyoverusnowthatourheated
skinwascooling.“Iknow.Youmakemenotwanttoreturntotherealworld.”
“Itwon’tbesobad,”Isaidsleepily,feelingascontentandcalmasIcouldever
remember.
“Ihopeyou’reright,angel,”hesaid,hiswordsfeatherlighttouchesagainstmyear.
“Ireallydo.”
Butthegrimnessetchinghistonespokeloudlyinthequietnight.Hedidn’tthink
thiswasreal.Hedidn’texpectittowork.
Iwasonlytemporary.Ilacedmyfingerswithhisandclosedmyeyes,wondering,not
forthefirsttime,ifIdidn’tbelievetheexactsamething.
Heshiftedbehindmewithasilentsigh.“Getsomerest.Dawnwillbeheresoon.”
—
“Wherearewegoing?”IaskedFosterasIsteppedoutofthebathroom,freshlyshoweredandwrappedinarobethatguyColbyhadgivenmethenight
before.
Fosterwasgatheringtherestofourthingsfromthearmoireonthefarsideofthe
room.“Breakfastandthenweneedtopaysomeoneavisitbeforeweheadout.”
Ihadnoideawhowecouldpossiblyhavetovisit,butIkeptthatopiniontomyself.
“Didyouseemyphone?IneedtoletAndreknowI’mokay.IpromisedhimI’dtext
himthismorning.HesaidhewasgoingtostaythenightincaseIneededarideback
home.”
Fosterwalkedovertothebedsidetable,thesoftleatherofhispantsmoldingover
hisbacksidewitheverystep.Hmm,Iwasbeginningtoseetheappealofleather.He
grabbedmyphoneandwalkeditbackovertome.“TellAndrethatI’llmakesureyou
gethomesafely.Thengetdressed.Normally,ifwe’reheretogether,youwon’tbe
wearingmuch.ButevenI’mnotsadisticenoughtotakethechanceofyourunninginto
yourbrotherwearinglingerie.”
Igrimacedatthethoughtandgrabbedmythingsfromhim.Aftertappingoutatext
messagetomybrother,Ipulledonmyskirtandblousefromthenightbeforeandslipped
intomystrappysandals.MyphonedingedandIpickeditup.“Andresaidhe’sheading
out.”
Fosterwrappedhisarmsaroundmywaistfrombehindandpeeredovermyshoulderat
myphone.“AndthatifIhurtyou,he’llkillme.Nice.”
Idroppedmyphoneintomybagandturnedaroundinhisembrace.“Yeah,youshould
knowhe’sentirelyserious.TheguydoescarryaTaserandagun.”
“Idon’tdoubtit.Hestoppedbymyapartmentthatmorningweranintohimcoming
backfromthehoteltogivemethestay-awaymessage.”
Igaped.“Hedidwhat?”
“Don’tworryaboutit.Irespectthat.”Fostercuppedmychinandpressedaquick
kisstomylipsbeforesteppingbackandlettingmego.“Abrothershouldbeoverprotectiveofhissister.It’shisjob.”
Somethinginhistonemademefrown.Itwaslikeonemomenttherewascomfortable
intimacybetweenusandthenexttherewasthisinstantdistance,likehe’dvaulted
ontotheothersideofsomewall.ButbeforeIcouldaskhimwhatwaswrong,hewas
headingtowardthedoor.
“Comeon,angel,”hesaid,holdingouthishand.“Don’twanttobelateforwhatI
haveplannedthismorning.”
Mythroattightenedatthethought.Ihadn’tseenmuchofwhatlayoutsidethesedoors.
Andrehadintroducedmetohisfriend,MasterColby,andhadsetuptheplan,but
thenColbyhadledmestraightherethroughabunchofhallways.NowthatI’draced
heretotrythiswithFoster,mynervesattheunknownwerecatchingup.Here,between
fourwalls,justmeandFosterwascomfortable.ButIknewtherewasawholeother
worldoutside—aworldIknewnothingabout,really.“Whatexactlydoyouhaveplanned?”
Foster’sbrowsloweredashishandclosedaroundmine.“Firstlesson.Whenwe’rehere
orinthismodeathome,youdon’tgettoquestioneverymoveImake.Youhaveto
learntotrustme.Ifsomethingtrulyfrightensyouorgoestoaplaceyoudon’twant,
youuseyoursafeword.Butotherthanthat,I’mincharge.Doyouunderstand?”
Ibitmylipathisgentleadmonishment.“Yes…sir.Wait,amIsupposedtocall
youmaster?”
Somehowtheworddidn’tsoundrightinmymouth.Itmadeitseemlikeagame,and
that’snotwhatthisfeltlike.
Heconsideredmeamoment,hisblueeyesevaluating.“EveryoneherecallsmeMaster
Ian.”
“Oh,right,”Isaid,lookingdownatourlinkedhands.“Theotherwomenhere.”
ThelastpartwasoutbeforeIrealizedI’dspokenthethought.AndIhatedthatit
cameoutsoundingsopetulant.Growup,Cela.
Hesighed.“No,notjustthewomen.It’showdomsareaddressedhere.ButIalsocan’t
standhereandsaythatI’veneverbeenwithothersubmissiveshere.”
Mystomachfeltlikeitwasmadeofknottedrubberbands,snappingandpopping.“I
know.”
“Lookatme,”hesaid.Reluctantly,Idid.“Whilewe’retogether,youhavemyabsolute
wordthatIwon’ttouchanotherwoman.AndIexpectthesamefaithfulnessfromyou.
ButIcan’tpretendthatIdon’thaveapast.I’mnotakid,Cela.”
“Right,”Isaid,irritationwellinginme.“Likeme,youmean.”
Displeasureshadowedhisfeatures.“Don’tputwordsinmymouth.AllI’msayingis
gettingjealousoverpeopleIwaswithbeforeIknewyouisawasteofenergy.If
theywerethatspectacular,I’dbewiththemnow,right?”
Logically,Iknewthat.Butitdidn’tstoptheuglyemotionfrombrewinginmelike
somepoison.Itriedtotampitdown.“SowhyIanandnotFoster?”
“Becauseitgivesmesomesenseofprivacy.NooneinmyeverydaylifecallsmeIan.
ButIdon’twantyoucallingmewhatothersubmissiveshave.Youaregoingtobepartofmylifeoutsideofhere.Socallmewhatyou’vealwayscalled
me.Foster.”
Somethingrelaxedinmeatthat.Iwasdifferentthanthoseotherwomen.Ineededtohearthat,neededtobelieveit.“So
no‘master’?”
Hesmirked.“Youhatethatidea,don’tyou?”
Itriedtofightmysmile—tonoavail.“Honestly,IthinkI’dhavetroublekeeping
astraightface.ItmakesmethinkofahunchbackedIgor.Yessss,Masssster.”
Heshookhishead,butIcouldtellhewasamused.“Well,wecan’thavethat.Though
afteryou’reexposedtothelifestyleforawhile,itmaybegintotakeonadifferent
connotationforyou.ButlikeIsaid,callmebyname.Andifsirfeelsnaturaltoyou,useit.Ifitdoesn’t,thendon’t.I’mnotthatconcernedabout
semantics.”
Sirdidcomesurprisinglyeasytome,eventhatfirstnight.Iblewoutabreath.“Thank
you.”
Hiseyebrowlifted.“Youseemsurprised.”
Ipushedanescapedlockofhairbehindmyear.“IguessI’mnotsurewhattoexpect
yet,howmuchsayIhavein…thiskindofthing.”
“Whichisexactlywhyyouneedtocomewithme,”hesaid,openingthedoor.“Ifwe’re
goingtodothis.Let’sgetthoseeyeswideopen.”
Oh,boy.TWENTY-THREE
AfteralongmorningatTheRanch,FosterandIwerestandinginsidemydoorway.Hehandedmethethickbinderhe’dgottenfromColby.Fosterhad
mademesitinonanewmembersclassbuthadwarnedmethattheintroductorysession
hadonlyscratchedthesurface.Mymindwasstillwhirlingwithalltheinformation
onpre-scenenegotiations,contracts,andhardlimits—allmixinginwithmyepiclack
ofsleeplastnight,itmadeforafoggybrain.Ihuggedthebindertomychest.
Fostercrossedhisarmsandlookeddownatme,theprofessortothestudent.“Here’s
whatyou’regoingtodo.Ihavesomethingstotakecareoftomorrow,andMondayI’m
outoftown.IfI’drealizedthiswasgoingtohappen,Iwouldn’thavescheduledall
ofthat,butnowit’stoolatetogetoutofit.Soyouhavethenexttwodaysto
studythebinderandcallmeoremailmewithanyquestionsthatcomeup.Anything
you’renotsureabout,ask.Whenwegettogethernexttime,Iwantyoutohaveaworking
knowledgeofthebasics.”
Myjawwentslack.“Youwantmetolearnallofthisintwodays?”
Hesmirked.“Cela,allyou’vedonetheselastfewyearsisstudyandcram;you’re
apro.And,ofcourse,youwon’tlearneverythingintwodays.Thiswillgiveyou
afoundation.We’llworkontheresttogetherthroughdirectinstruction.That’sthe
funpart.”
Iwetmylips,theimageofexactlyhowhewouldinstructmemakingwarmthstirlow
andfast.“Yes,sir.”
“What’syourschedulelikethisweek?”
“I’moff.Iwassupposedtobegoinghome,sothey’dscheduledsomeoneelseinmy
place.AndIcan’ttellDr.PelhamthatI’macceptingthenewpositionuntilnext
week.She’sonacruise.”
Hereachedoutandshutmyfrontdoor,notallowingtheemptyhallwaytoeavesdrop
onus.“Perfect.Thatwillgiveyoutimetofocusonthis.AnduntilIseeyouagain
onTuesday,youaren’tallowedtogetoff—byanymeans.”
Mycheekswenthot.“IthinkIcanrestrainmyselffortwodays.”
“Thatconfident,huh?”Hislipscurledasheslowlybackedmeupagainstthewall,
thebindertrappedbetweenus.“Readingaboutallthoseillicitthings,imagining
medoingthemtoyou,isgoingtogetyouhot,angel.”Hishandsliddownmyhipand
cuppedmyass,pullingmetightagainsthiserection.“You’regoingtogetflushed
likeyouarerightnow.Andwet.Andsuddenlyit’sgoingtobeverytemptingtorelieve
allthattension.”
Iswallowedhard,thewordsmakingeverythinggoneedyanddesperateinsideme.Even
afterournightandmorningatTheRanch,Icouldn’tseemtogetenoughofhistouch.
Hewascreatingsomesortofweird,addictiveresponseinme.Ithoughtofallthose
animalexperimentsI’dhadtolearnaboutinschool—micehittingleversforpellets.
Maybehewasright.Atthemoment,Iwasreadytosmackthatleveragainandwasfinding
ithardtoimaginenothavinganorgasminthenextfiveminutes,muchlessthenext
fewdays.“I’llmanage.”
Hekissedthespotbehindmyear,sendinggoosebumpsdownmyshoulderandalongmy
back.“Isthatright?Well,Iwasgoingtogiveyoualittlesomethingtogetyou
throughthenextfewdays.Butifyoucanmanage…”
Hetriedtostepback,andIgrabbedfistfulsofhisshirt.Thebinderthumpedon
thefloorbetweenus.“Wait,please.”
Hislowlaughsentarippleofanticipationthroughme.“Stayagainstthewalland
takeoffyourpanties.Now.”
Guh.Ishivered.Whatwasthat?Whydidmybodygotinglyandhottheminutehegotbossy?Evenafterfinding
outaboutthiswholesubmissionthing,Istillcouldn’twrapmyheadaroundthethought
thatIreallyfitthatlabel.ButIwasn’tgoingtoquestionmyresponsesrightnow.
Notwhenhewaslookingatmelikethat.Ipressedmybackagainstthewallandlet
himgothistimewhenheextractedhimselffrommygrip.Iquicklyslidmyunderwear
offandtossedthemtotheside,readyforwhateverhewasabouttodoaslongas
itmeanthimrelievingthisthrobbingneedinsideme.
Hewalkedovertotheblackbaghe’dcarriedbackwithhimfromTheRanchanddug
throughanoutsidepocket.Hisbackwastomeandblockedtheviewofwhateverhe
wasgetting.Butwhenheturnedaround,hehadsomekindofdarkpurplesiliconetoy
inhishand.Mygazedartedfromittohimthenbacktothetoy.Mykneeswentalittle
weak.
Hesteppedinfrontofmeandshovedmyskirtuptomyhips,exposingeverything.
Coolairkissedmydampskin.“Spreadyourlegs.”
“Yes,sir.”Pressingmypalmstothewallbehindme,Ifollowedhisinstructions,
myhighheelswobblingabitbeneathmeasIwidenedmystance.
Hebracedahandnexttomyheadagainstthewallandleanedintomyspace,hisbreath
hotagainstmycheek.Thenhewasrubbingthecoolsiliconeagainstmycleft.Alittle
moanescaped.Iwassowoundupalready,evensuchgentlestrokinghadmybodytightening.
“You’resoverywet,angel.Thechallengeforyouisgoingtobetokeepthisinplace.
Becausethisistheonlywayyou’llgetwhatyouwant.”
BeforeIcouldrespond,thetipofthetoywaspushinginsideme,stretchingmeand
slidingdeep.Iclosedmyeyestobreathethroughthesensation,butthenFostersettled
theothercurvedpartofthedeviceagainstmyclitandturnediton.Everythingbegan
tohum.“Oh,God.”
Hesuckedonthelobeofmyearbeforewhispering.“Don’tyoudarecomebeforeIdo
ortherewillbeconsequences.Now,onyourknees,Cela.”
Myeyelidssnappedopen,buthisgazewasdeadserious.Heguidedmylegsbacktogether
tomakesureIheldontothevibrator,thenhewaspressingdownonmyshoulderto
pushmetomyknees.IlandedonthelittlefloweredrugIhadboughtatathrift
store.NeverhadIimaginedit’dbeusedforthispurpose.ButwhereI’dgottenmy
decorsoonfledfrommymindasFoster’sbeltbucklefilledmyvision.Hiserection
wasoutlinedbytheleather,andI’mnotsureI’deverseenamoreeroticsight.I
wantedtolickhimthroughit.
“Iexpectyouknowwhattodo,Cela,”Fostersaid,hisgazeheavyonme.
Thevibratorwasmakingmythoughtsknockintoeachother,butasifmybodycaught
upbeforemyminddid,Iliftedmyhandsandunfastenedhisbuckleandpants.There
wasnothingbeneathbutskin—flatbelly,asmatteringofhair,andunrepentantarousal.
God,hewasbeautiful.Everypartofhimsopotentandmasculine.Myinnermuscles
clenchedaroundthetoy,andIhadtotakealongbreathtopullmyselfbackfrom
theedge.
“Goodgirl,”Fostersaid,slidinghisfingersintomyhairandtakinghiscockin
hisotherhandtostrokeit.“You’lllearntochannelyourfocus.Yourpleasurewill
bedependentonmine,andyourownreleasewillnotbeyourendgoal—pleasingmewill
be.Thatwillbewhereyou’llfindyoursatisfaction.”
Inthelightofday,thatstatementmight’vesoundedludicrous,sexist,andmisogynistic.
Butinthatmoment,asheslidhiscockintomymouth,histasteglidingovermytongue
andmybodyridingthevibrator,Iwantednothingmorethantodoexactlythat—please
theever-lovingshitoutofhim.
Irelaxedmythroatandmovedforward,bringinghimasfarbackasIcould,thenswirled
mytonguearoundhimasIpulledbackwardagain.Ilavedaroundthehead.Hegroaned
withappreciation,andIfeltitallthewaytomybonemarrow.“You’rebetterat
thisthanyourealize.”
Ismiledinwardly.TheA-plus,perfectionisticstudentinmehadactuallyresearched
techniqueontheInternettheothernight,butnoamountoftorturewouldmakeme
admitthatinformationoutloud.SoinsteadIwenttoworkondemonstratingwhatI’d
learnedanddrivinghimintooblivion.Nothingwashotterthanhearingthegruffsounds
hemade,tastinghimonmytongue,andinhalinghisscent—cleansweatandleather
andsomethinguniquelyhis.Fallingintothatmomentalmosttookmymindawayfrom
therelentless,coaxingstimulationbetweenmythighs—theclimbingurgetocome.
“That’sright,angel,”Fostersaid,hisvoicegoingalittlehoarseashebeginto
rockintomefaster.“Showmehowbadyouwantmetofuckthatprettymouthofyours.
Youhavenoideahowhardit’sbeennottotakeyoulikethisatTheRanchthisafternoon—to
showeveryonewhatasexylittlesubIhave,tostakemyclaimofyouinpublic.”
Imoanedaroundhiscock,thehotimagesandhisroughtonenearlypushingmeover
thecliff.MynailsdugintohisthighsasIheldontothelastthreadsofmyself-control.
“Ah,youlikethatidea,”hesaid,hisgriponmyhairtightening.“Mysweet,innocent
girl,Ican’twaittouncoverallthosesecretsidesofyou.”
Iwhimpered,thecoilofpressurebuildinginmetoomuchtoholdback.Iliftedmy
eyestohis,pleading.
Hisgazebrandedmewithitsintensity.“Notyet,Cela.I’mnotfuckingdonewith
you.”
Ibreatheddeeplythroughmynose,fightingtheneed,andfocusedonhim.Ididn’t
wanttocomebeforehim.Ididn’twanttoleavehimunsatisfied.Ineededtofeel
himlosehisowncontrol.Thatalonehelpedmepushbacktheoncomingtide.Ipulled
awayforamomentanddippedlower,glidingmytonguealonghissacandtakingone
oftheglobesinmymouthtosuckgently.
“Fuck…”Foster’sgroanrattledthroughhim,andhepressedthebackofmyhead
againstthewall,securingmeinplace.“Open.”
Ididandhewasbackpushingbetweenmylipswithaferocitythathadmywillobliterating.
Icouldn’tmovemyhead.AllIcoulddowastakehimandworkmytonguearoundhim
asheruthlesslyravagedmymouth.Everythingbegantoblur,mybodyrevving.Then
hiscockjerkedagainstmytongueandlovely,hotfluidhitthebackofmythroat,
Foster’sloudgroansendingofftrailsofsparklingdesireinsideme.
Andthatwasthefinalswitch.MybodyclenchedhardaroundthevibratorandItilted
myhipsforward,ridingthesoft,hummingnubpressedagainstmyclituntileverything
burstopeninsideme.AmuffledcryrippedpastmythroatasFostercontinuedtopump
insideme.
Ibuckedagainsttheforceofmyownorgasm,thepowerrockingme,andheldonto
himlikehewastheliferaftkeepingmefromdrowning.Hepulledoutofmymouth
andgrabbedmywrists,thenslidtohiskneesinfrontofme.Ipitchedforwardautomatically
andpressedmyfaceintohisshoulder.Hewrappedhisarmsaroundmyconvulsingbody,
holdingontome.
“Ican’t—please,takeitout,”Ipanted,theintensityofsensationgettingpastthe
sanitypoint,butheheldontight,notallowingmetoremovethevibrator.
“Shh,angel.Youcan.Comeforme,again.You’renotdone.”
Isqueezedmyeyesshut,waterleakingfromthecorners.“Foster,please.”
Butevenasthebeggingwordpassedmylips,mybodychargedupanotherhill,and
thistimetheorgasmwassointense,sobreathstealing,thatonlysilenceemerged
whenIopenedmymouthtocryout.Iswayedinhisarmsashewhisperedsexy,coaxing
thingsagainstmyear.
Finally,wheneveryounceofstrengthseemedtoexitmysystem,Fostergentlyslid
thetoyfromme.NotevencaringwhereIwas,Imovedmylegsfromundermeandlay
downonthefloor,myheadagainsthisthighandmybodycurledupontheruginthe
fetalposition.Myblouseclungtomysweat-slickedskin.Iwasdone.Notsleeping
formuchoflastnight,alltheemotionalupheavalofthepreviousday,andtwoorgasms
hadpushedmepastanysenseofdecency.
Fostercombedmyhairwithhisfingers,caressingmyscalpwithlong,luxuriousstrokes.
Asoftsighescapedme.Somehow,lyingthereonthefloorhalf-naked,mykneesrug
burned,andmyjawachingfromtheroughuse,I’dneverfeltmorecomfortableorcherished.
Icould’vesleptthereandbeenhappyaboutit.
Fostertracedmyeyebrowwithhisfinger.“Youwantmetorunyouabath,ordoyou
wanttoworryaboutthatafteryougetsomerest?”
“Rest,”Imurmured.
“Goodchoice.”Heextricatedhimselffromundermeandthenturnedmetoliftmeinto
hisarms.
Ididn’tfightit.Ifhewantedtoliftme,sobeit.Hecarriedmeintomybedroom
andlaidmeonmyunmadebed.Ireachedformyblouse,buthegentlypushedmyhands
away.
“Letme.”Heunbuttonedmyblouseandtookoffmybra,brushingsoftfingersagainst
mystill-beadednipples.Then,heguidedmedowntomypillowsandpulledthesheet
andblanketoverme.
“Areyoustaying?”Iaskedsleepily.
Herubbedathumbovermycheekbone.“No,angel.Ican’t.ButcomeTuesday,we’ll
bespendingalotoftimetogether.Takethenextfewdaystoenjoythesolitude…
andthefreedom.”
“Ifthisiswhatcaptivityfeelslike,IthinkI’mbecomingafan.”
Hechuckledsoftly,awarm,masculinesoundthatmademewanttocrawlbackintohis
lap.“We’llseewhatyouthinkwhenyou’renothighonpost-orgasm,subspacebliss.”
“Mmm,”Imurmured,fightingtokeepmylidsopen.
Hekissedmyforehead.“Getsomerest,angel.”
Thenhewasgone.
AndsowasI.TWENTY-FOUR
“Marcela,thisbetterbeajoke,”myfatherwarned.“Ifitis,it’saparticularlyunfunnyone.”
Theacidinmystomachchurned,andIshotBaileyanI’mdyingherelook.Shegavemeaweakdoublethumbs-upformetokeepatit.“Papá,theclinic
needsmerightnow.Itwouldbebadtoleavetheminalurch.”
Lie.Lie.Lie.Butsomehow,eventhoughI’dhadthebestofintentionswhenIdialed
hisnumber,Icouldn’tbringmyselftotellhimthetruthyet.
“Iknowofanotherclinicinalurch,”myfathersaidthroughwhatsoundedlikeclenched
teeth.“Mine.Tufamilia.”
Ipinchedthebridgeofmynose,andBaileypouredmeasecondglassofwineinsympathy.
“Iknow.Butyou’vemanagedthislongwithoutme,surely—”
“Howlongdotheyneedyoufor?”heasked,histoneclipped.
Indefinitely.“Uh,I’mnotsure.They’relookingforareplacement.Acouplemore
weeks?”
HemutteredaslewofsomethingIcouldn’tunderstand.“You’veputmeinabadspot,
Marcela.Thehouseisreadyandsittingthere,andI’vebeensettingthingsupat
theclinic,too.Youbetterbehereforyourbirthday.Yourmamáhasbeenplanning
abigfamilydinner,andIwillnotseeherdisappointed.Comprendes?”
“Yes,Papá,”Isaid,shrinkingunderthattoneofhis.“IpromiseI’llbetherefor
mybirthday.”
Evenifitwasn’ttostay.IpressedmyfaceintothethrowpillowIhadinmylap.
Iwaslyingtomyfather.Andleavingmyfamilyinatoughspot—forwhat?Tohave
somecrazy,kinkyrelationshipwithaboy?Iwasgoingtohell.
Worst.Daughter.Ever.
“Goodnight,Marcela,”myfathersaidcoolly.
“Goodnight.TellMamáImissher.”
“Tellheryourself.Orareyoutoobusytocallyourownmothernow?”
Iswallowedpastthedrynessinmythroat.“Ofcoursenot.I’llcallhertomorrow.”
Thephonewentdead.
ItossedthephoneontotheloveseatandgroanedasIranmyhandsovermyface
“Thatbad,huh?”Baileyaskedfromhercross-leggedpositiononthefloor.Shetwirled
aforkfulofspaghettiinthebowlshewasholding.Shelookedsocomfortablethere
hangingoutinmyapartment.I’drarelyinvitedheroverbecauseifIwashome,I
wasstudying.AndusuallyshehadtodragmetogooutsoI’dseesomethingbesides
myfourwalls.Butitwasnicehavingherherenow.
“Iliedthroughmygoddamnteeth,”Isaid,reachingfortheglassofwine.“Idon’t
knowhowI’mgoinghavethisconversation.IthoughtIcould,buthowamIsupposed
totellhimI’mgoingtodeviatefromthepathI’vebeenplanningallmylife?He’ll
hateme,Bay.Hateme.”
Shefrowned.“Yourdadmaygetmad,buthewon’thateyou.You’rejusttryingtolive
yourownlife.”
“No,youdon’tknowhim.Forgivenessisnothisstrongsuit.”
“Whatdoyoumean?”
“Well,mysister,Luz,gotpregnantatseventeenand…didn’tgothroughwith
thepregnancy.Mydadcutheroutofourfamilylikeshedidn’texist.Shewasjust
akidwhomadeabaddecisionwithherboyfriend,buttherewerenosecondchances.
Thatwasit.Done.Hegavehermoneytogetanapartmentandthentoldhernotto
comehomeagain.”
“Wow,that’s…harsh.”
“Iknow,”Isaid,betweengulpsofwine.“NowyouknowwhyI’mterrifiedtotellhim.
Luzhasstruggledeverydaysincethen—alonewithnosupportaroundher.IfAndre,
myoldestbrother,orIwanttotalktoherorseeher,wehavetodoitonthesly
withoutmyparentsknowing.Sheputsonabravefaceandistooproudtoacceptmoney
fromanyofus,butIcan’timaginewhatthatmustbelike.Myfamilyiseverything
tome.Goingthroughlifewithoutthembeingthere,Idon’tevenwanttothinkabout
it.”
Baileysetherbowlinherlap,sympathycrossingherfeatures.“Yourbrotherswouldn’t
disownyou.”
Isighed.“No,theywouldn’t.ButhowcouldIwalkawayfrommymom?”
“It’snotlikeyou’rebreakingthelaworanything.Youdon’tthinkyourmomwould
forgiveyou?”
“Notifmydadtoldhernotto.Shedoeseverythinghesayswithoutquestion.Itnearly
killedherwhenhekickedLuzout,butshedidn’tstophim.Honorthyhusbandand
allthatcrap.Shejustwenttochurchandprayedfordaysonend,lightingcandles
andsayingherrosarynovena.IremembercryingformysisteratnightbecauseIhad
noideawhytheywouldn’tlethercomehome.Iwastooyoungatthetimeforthem
totellmetherealreason,soallIknewwasthatshedida‘verybadthing.’After
that,IthoughtanytimeIbrokearule,thesamethingwouldhappentome.”
“Geez,talkaboutpressure.Nowonderyou’resuchastraightarrow,”shesaid,shaking
herhead.
“Ha.Right.Astraightarrow,”Iscoffed.“Notsosurethatlabelappliesanymore.”
Shecockedaneyebrowatme.“Seriously?You’regoingtotakeakickassjobinstead
ofgoingbackhome.It’snotlikeyou’vegoneallBritneyandshavedyourheadduring
adrugbenderorsomething.”
Ikickedbackthelastofmywine,lettingthewarmthofitburnthroughmychest
beforemeetingBailey’sgazeagain.“I’mnotexactlystayingforthejobalone.”
Herforkhoveredhalfwaytohermouth,thenafterabeat,mycommentapparentlyregistered.
Shesetthebowlandforkontheglasscoffeetablewithaclank.
“Oh.My.God.There’saguy,isn’tthere?Iknewit!You’vebeenactingsoweirdlately.”
Shepushedupfromthefloorandploppedontheothersideofthecouchfromme,her
dinnerforgottenandhereyeswide.“IsitPike?PleaseGod,tellmeitis.Because,seriously,ifyou’veseenhimnaked,I’mgoing
toneeddetaileddescriptions.Andpossiblydrawings.Howcomfortableareyouwith
hiddenvideo?BecauseI’dbewillingtopayyouforthat,too.”
Isnorted.“Fangirlmuch?”
Shegrabbedapillowandswungitatme.“Yes.Talk,bitch!”
Idodgedtheblowwithanelbowandsetdownmyemptyglass.“Calmdown.Lord,wine
makesyoumean,youknowthat?”
Baileynarrowedhereyes.
“Fine.No,it’snotPike.We’rejustfriends.Though,”—Igaveheraconspiratorial
look—“Ihaveseenhimnaked,andbelieveme,adrawingcouldnotpossiblydohimjustice.”
Bailey’smouthformedaperfectO,makingherlooklikeoneofthosedollsthatyousqueezetomakesing,onlynosound
cameout.
“ButI’mkindofinathingwithhisroommate,Foster,”Ifinished.
SheclosedhereyesandheldupafingerintheI-need-a-momentgesture.Whenshe
openedhereyesagain,shehadtheexpressionofagirlonamission.“Let’sputa
pininthatwhole,Ihavea‘thing’withsomeguyyou’venevermentionedtomebefore.
Andrewindbacktothepartwhereyou’veseenPike—thedrummeroffriggingDarkfall—naked.”
Icurledmylipsinward,debatingonhowmuchIshouldtellher.I’dneverreally
hadafriendItalkedaboutsexthingswith.Well,mostly,becauseIhadnosexthings
toactuallyshare.Andmyclosestfriendsbackhomewereraisedevenmoreconservatively
thanIwas—nicegirlsdon’ttalkaboutthosethingsaloud.ButBaileyhadsuredone
herfairshareoftellingmeaboutherescapades.Shedidn’thavemuchofafilter.
Andthoughshe’dproddedmeaboutmyreasonsfornotdatinganyone,I’dneveradmitted
toherthatI’dbeenavirgin.Mainlybecauseshewould’vestagedherownversion
ofTheBachelorette:VirginEditiontogetmelaid.However,tonighttheneedtotalktosomeoneaboutallthatwasgoing
oninmylifewasfillingmelikehelium,leavingmereadytoburst.Maybeitwas
timetotrustBaileyasarealfriendinsteadofholdingheratarm’slengthlike
I’dbeendoingwitheveryonesinceIstartedschool.
Plus,IhadbeenstudyingthebinderFosterhadgivenme.Itdidsayagoodsafetynettohaveinplacewastomakeafriendyoucouldtrustaware
ofwhatyouweredoingsoyoucouldcheckinwiththatpersonwhenyouwereoutwith
someonenew.Fosterwasn’texactlynew,butIfiguredtherulecouldstillapply.
“So,okay,”Isaid,gatheringmycourageandpretendingtostudyachipinmynail
polishsoIdidn’thavetolookather.“IsortofwentoutwithbothPikeandFoster
thenightofgraduation.Yourtequilawasinvolved.And,youknow,Ididn’tcomehome
untilmorning.”
Asoftgasp.“Ho.Lee.Shit,Cela.Bothofthem?”
BloodrushedtomyfaceasIbracedforthejudgment.“Ididn’tsleepwithPike.We
justfooledaroundbut—”
“Youaremyfuckinghero.”
Mygazesnappedupward.“What?”
“Areyoukiddingme?IwouldlosemyshitbeingwithinthreefeetofPike.Icould
barelystringasentencetogetherwhenhewalkedintheotherday.Andyou,Ms.All
StudyandNoPlay,managedtosnagnotjusthimbuthisroommate,too?AndIbetthe
roommate’sjustashot,right?Thehotonestendtogrouptogether.”
“Sohot,”Isaid,saggingintothecouch,relievedtogettheconfessionout.“LikeI
canbarelylookathimwithoutwantingtojumpandsqueallikeatwelve-year-oldwith
Bieberfever.It’sridiculous.”
Baileysighedwistfully.“Justrubitin,Medina.”
Irolledmyeyes.“Likeyoudon’thavedudesliningup.”
“Dudes,Cela,fratguyswhowanttoshowmehowproficienttheyareatkegstands.
Notsmoking-hotrockstars.”
“Fosterisn’tarockstar.He’sabusinessguy,ownsacompany.”
“Heownsacompany.”Sheblinkedthenreachedforagarlicbreadstick,shovingabite
ofitinhermouthandchewingalittlefuriously.“Iloveyou,butI’mtotallykind
ofhatingyourightnow.SoasexyCEO,whichmeanshehasmoneyandissmart.Oh,
howyousuffer.Andnowyouhavea‘thing’withhim?Whatkindofthing?Obviously
enoughtokeepyouhere.”
Ilookedattheclosedbindersittingonthebottomshelfofthecoffeetable.Inodded
atthewinebottle.“Youbetterpourusbothanotherglass.Thismaytakeawhile.”
Hereyebrowsdisappearedbeneathherbangs,butshefilleduptheglassesagain.
Ihadafeelingitwasgoingtosoundevencrazieroutloudthanitdidinmyhead,
buttherewasnoturningbacknow.She’deithergrillmeforeverylastjuicydetail
ordragmetothecampuspsychologistforaneval.Heregoesnothing.
—
Fosterlookedupfromhislaptopatthesoundofferociousgrowling.Onthefarsideofthelivingroom,Montyhadhisheadstickingoutfrom
undertheblanketinhisdogbed,teethbared,andPikewasstandingoverhimina
bouncerstance,anoddexpressiononhisface.
“Whatareyoudoing?”
“Projectingcalm,dominantenergy,”Pikesaid,hisvoiceevenashelookedforward
andnotatMontyorFoster.
“Idon’tthinkMontyhasthementalcapacitytoenteraSafe,Sane,andConsensual
agreementwithyou.Andtobehonest,Ithinkhemaybeatop.”
Piketurnedthen,hisfacecontortingashetriednottolaugh.“Stop.I’mtrying
tosendamessagehere.”
“Notsurehe’sgettingit.”
MontysnarledandsnappedatPike’sboot,andPikebentoverandtouchedMonty’sside
withhisfingersinaquick,snake-strikemotion.“Tsch!”
Montyduckedhisheadandbackedoff.
“Ha!”Pikesaid,grinningatFoster.“Lookatthat.Shitactuallyworks.”
Fosterlaughed.“Andwhatshitwouldthatbeexactly?”
“Celatoldmeabouthowtrainingdogsisallaboutteachingthemtobecalmandsubmissive
soyoucanbethepackleader.AndsoIdownloadedalltheseepisodesofTheDogWhisperer.ThatdudecouldmakeCujoturnintoBenji.ButIthinkit’sstartingtowork.That’s
thefirsttimeMontyhasn’tgoneintofullattackmodewhenIcorrectedhim.Your
girlfriend’sagenius.”
“Cela’snotmygir—”Fosterstarted,butthenhislipsclampedshut.He’dbeenabout
tocorrectPikeontheerroneousterm.Fosterdidn’thavegirlfriends.Notsincethe
Darcydebacle.Butwasn’tthatexactlywhatCelawasgoingtobe?Hecoulddressit
upwiththeD/sterms.Shewashissubmissive.Butthiswassomuchmorethanaplay
partneratTheRanch.Hewasinvitingherintohislife.Histhroatnarrowedabit,
makingithardtobreatheforamoment.
“Uh-oh,”Pikesaid,steppingawayfromMonty’sbed.“Iknowthatlook.Don’tgetall
freakedoutnow.Youbroughtthisonyourself.”
“Broughtitonmyself?”Hescowled.“YoumakeitsoundlikeI’vecomedownwithan
illness.”
Pikeploppeddowninachairandproppedhisheelsonthecoffeetable.“Look,I’m
notjudging.IthinkCela’sgreatandhotandsmartandhot.”
“Igotit,”Fostersaidirritably.
Hesmirked.“Butjustbecareful.She’syounganddoesn’tknowwhatshewantsright
now.”
“Sheknows.That’swhyshe’sstayinghere,”Fostersaid,theconvictioninhistone
falteringonlyslightly.
“Fornow,”Pikesaidwithafrown.“You’vedazzledavirginwithyourworldlyways.
Bravo,boywonder.Bigfeat.”
Fosterpushedhislaptopclosedwithaloudsnap,Pike’ssarcasmdiggingrightunder
hisskin.“Nowwaitasecond—”
Pikeheldupahand.“Hearmeout.Youremembermetellingyouabout,Ms.Briarstone,
myjunioryearmathteacher?”
Fosterleanedforwardandslidhiscomputerontothetable,annoyancepumpingthrough
him.“Yeah,younevershutupaboutherbackthen.Yousaidsheworeskirtsthatinspired
evenyoutolearnquadraticequations.”
Pikegaveawistfulsighandgotafar-offlookinhiseye.“Ah,thosepencilskirts.
Whenshe’dleanoverherdesktograbhernotes,youcouldn’tseeanypantyline.
Notone.Ilostdaysofmylifewonderingwhatwasbeneath—somethingsexyornothing
atall?”
“Whatdoesthishavetodowithanything?”
HebroughthisgazebacktoFoster.“Becausethenightofmyjuniorprom,Ididn’t
fuckthegirlI’dtakentothedance.IlostmyvirginitytoMs.Briarstoneatashitty
littlemotelshedrovemetooutsideoftown.”
Foster’sbrowsdipped.“YoutoldmeyoudiditwithLaurelWoodsfreshmanyear.”
“Yeah,well,Ilied.Laurelwasmyfirstblowjob.”Hepulledhisfeetoffthetable
andbracedhisforearmsagainsthisthighs.“ButmypointisthatIlostmyvirginity
andfellinfuckinglove,dude.Ithoughtthatwasit.Noonecouldeverbeashot
orperfectasher.Imean,sheworethongsandgartersandshit.Nogirlinhighschool
wasgoingtotopthat.”
Fostersniffed,havingtroublepicturingPikewithheartsinhiseyes.
“Butofcourseallthatrushoffeelingwasn’treal.Itwasjustmebeingyoungand
stupidandhornyasshit.Wefooledaroundafewmoretimes,butthenoveltyeventually
woreoffandwemovedon.”
“Man,that’skindoffuckedup.Shewasagrownwoman,andnooffense,butyouwere
aprettyscrewed-upkidbackthen.Sheshouldn’thavemessedwithyou.”
Heshrugged.“Fuckingabeautifulolderwomanwastheleastofmypotentiallypsychologically
damagingexperiencesbackthen.Andhell,ifIwaswithher,atleastIdidn’thave
togohometosleep.”
Fostersighedandleanedbackagainstthecouch,Pike’swarningechoinghisownworries.
“Fortherecord,you’renottellingmesomethingI’mnotalreadyworriedabout.I
knowI’manoveltytoCelarightnow,andthatonsomelevel,Irepresentallthe
badinhergood-girlworld.Butitfeelslikemore,Pike.Whenwe’retogether,there’sthissenseof…rightness.Like
she’ssupposedtobemine.Andshechosetostayhere.But,don’tworry,I’mkeeping
myselfincheckaboutit.”
“Sureyouare.”Pikeshookhishead,buttherewasasmilethere.“You’resofucked,
myfriend.”
Montybarked,asifsecondingthatremark.
“No,I’mserious.I’mnotlettingmyselfgettoodeepyet.I’mjustseeinghowit
goes.”
“Uh-huh,”Pikesaid,obviouslyunconvinced.“Justbecareful.”
Therewasaloudknockatthedoorandashoutof,“Delivery!”
PikeglancedtowardthesoundasMontyscrambledtowarditinfullguard-dogmode.
“What’sthatabout?”
Fosterpushedoffthecouch.“Youdon’twanttoknow.”
ButPikewasalreadyhoppingupfromhischairandbeatingFostertothedoor.He
swungitopen.TheguyontheothersidehandedPikeaclipboard.“DeliveryforIan
Foster.Wewantedtomakesureyouwerehomebeforewebroughtitup.”
Pikelookeddownatthepaperwork,obviouslyscanningittoseewhatwasbeingdelivered.
HeturnedtoFosterwithhisjawslack.“Tellmeyoudidn’t.”
“Shutup.”Hegrabbedtheclipboardfromhimandsigned.
Pikelaughedandputahandonhisshoulder.“So.Fucked.”TWENTY-FIVE
IwalkedupthestairstomyapartmentTuesdayafternoonwithbutterfliesthesizeofmutantbatsinmybelly.Fosterhademailedmeinforming
methatwe’dbegoingouttonight,andthathe’dleftinstructionsformeinanenvelope
he’dslippedundermydoor.
WhenIunlockedmydoorandsawtheinnocuouswhiterectanglelyingatoptherugI’d
kneltonthelasttimeI’dseenhim,afrizzleofanxietywentthroughme.Ipicked
itupandbroughtitintothekitchentosetdowntherestofmystuff.Butthatwas
aboutallIcouldmanagebeforetearingitopen.Insidewereanoteandakey.
Iunfoldedtheletter.
Cela,
Thankyouforemailingmeyourhardandsoftlimits.Tonightyouwillaccompanyme
todinnertofurtherworkoutthedetailsofourarrangement.I’veselectedwhatI’d
likeyoutowear.It’shangingintheentrywayclosetinmyapartment.Usethiskey
toretrieveit.OnlywearwhatI’veprovided.Nothingelse.Wearyourhairdown.
Donotdrinkanyalcoholbeforehand.Ineedyouclearheadedandtotallyfocusedtonight.
Iwillpickyouupatseven.Beready.
—F
Mybreathwhooshedoutofme,thecurtinstructionswakingsomethinginsideme.And
soitwouldbegin.Deependofthepool,hereIcome.
—
Afteralongshower,adetailedgroomingsession,andablowout,IslippedintothestraplessdarkmagentadressFosterhadpickedoutfor
me.Theluxuriousmaterialslidovermybareskinlikeasoftcaress,inspiringimages
ofFoster’sfingersglidingoverme.Warmthgatheredbetweenmythighs.Hell,ifI
wasalreadygettingworkedup,itwasgoingtobealongdinner.I’dmanagedtoobey
hisinstructionsnottogetoff,butreadingthroughalltheinformationoverthe
weekend,andeventalkingaboutsomeofitwithBailey,hadwoundmetightenough
tofeelconstantlyonedge.
Itookacalmingbreathandreachedforthepantieshe’dincluded—alittletriangle
ofsatinthatbarelycoveredanything.Iwassurprisedhe’devengiventhemtome.
Ifiguredanyguy,giventhechance,wouldhaveagirlwearnothingatallbeneath
herdress.ButafterIslippedthemonandheadedtotheothersideofmybedroom
togettheblackbeltandheelshe’dprovided,Irealizedexactlywhyhe’dchosen
thepanties.Thefabricinstantlymoldedtomyfreshlyshavenskinandthewetness
thatseemedtobeeverpresentsinceI’dgottenhome,makingmethatmuchmoreaware
ofmyarousal.Igroanedandventuredaglancetowardmybedsidedrawer,wheremy
handy-dandyvibratorwasstored.
ButFosterwasgoingtobehereinafewminutes,andI’dheldoutthislong,what
wasanotherfewhours?Right?Theargumentdidn’tdoanygoodconvincingmybody.
Isighedandslippedintotheheelsandfastenedthebeltaroundmywaist.Itook
onefinalglanceinthefull-lengthmirroronmyclosetdoor.
Damn.Theguyknewhowtochooseanoutfit.Therewasnosignofthegirlwhospent
mostofhertimewearingscrubs,aponytail,andlayerofcathair.Ilooked…
sexy.Andelegant.Ididn’tknowmuchaboutbrands,butIhadafeelingwhatIwas
wearingdidn’tcomefromthelocalmall.Onceagain,Ifoundmyselfwonderingwhy
someonewhocouldaffordthesekindsofthingswaslivingwitharoommateinmycomplex.
Imean,mycomplexwasnice.Mydadhadinsistedonhelpingmepayforsomethingin
agoodneighborhoodsoIdidn’thavetoliveoncampusandcouldfeelsafe.Butit
wasn’tsomeswankyhigh-riseoranything.Fostercouldclearlyaffordmore.
Thethoughtwaslikeaburrinmyfoot,aconstantnigglingreminderthattherewas
somuchIdidn’tknowaboutthemanIwasentrustingmyselfto.Aknockonmydoor
pulledmefrommyworriedreflection.
Itookasteadyingbreathandmademywaytothedoor.IhadafeelingwhenFoster
saidbeready,thatmeantnotmakinghimwaitevenforaminute.Iswungopenthe
door,butinsteadoffindingFosterontheotherside,Geraldfilledmydoorway.Automatically,
Irearedup.“Gerald.”
“Hi,Cela,”hesaidwithatiltedsmile.“Uh,wow,youlookreallypretty.”
Mystomachdipped.I’dmadeapointtoavoidmyformerlyfriendlyneighborsincefinding
outabouthisbackground.AfterFosterhadtoldme,I’dlookeduptheinformation
formyself,andit’dmademeilltoeventhinkaboutallthetimesI’dbeenalone
withGerald.“Whatareyoudoinghere?”
“Hey,uh,I’msureyourfriendtoldyouaboutmy…past.AndI’msorryIdidn’t
sayanything.It’sjust—thatwasamuchyounger,muchstupiderversionofmyself.
MistakesIwishIcouldundo.AndIlikedhangingoutwithyou—withsomeonewhodidn’t
justseethatcreepfrombackthen.”
Ishiftedinmyheelsandglancedoverhisshoulderattheemptyhallway.“Gerald,
Iappreciatetheapology,butIthinkit’sbestweleavethingsastheyare.”
“Isitbecauseofyourboyfriend?”heaskedglumly.
Isawtheoutandtookit.“Yes.He’svery…protective.”
“Right,”hesaidwithafrown.
“Well,Iunderstand.IonlywantedtotellyouthatIwassorryandthatIfounda
dogwalkerforSammi.She’sdoingwellwithher.”
Imanagedasmallsmile.“That’sgoodtohear.”
“Yeah,well,IguessI’llbeseeingyouthen.”Afteronelastlook,whichstrangely
mimickedhowSammihadlookedatmewhenIwouldn’tthrowtheballagain,heturned
onhisheeltoheadbacktowardthestairs.Butbeforehemadeitallthewaythere,
Foster’sdooropened.Fostersteppedout,lookinglikeaGQmodelinasharpdarkgraysuitandatiethatcoordinatedwithmydress.
Simultaneously,reliefandfearrushedthroughme.ReliefthatIwasn’talonewith
Geraldanymore,butalsofear,becausewhenFosterturnedhisheadtotherightto
seeGerald’sretreatingback,everybitofhimbristled.IrushedovertoFoster,
heelsclickingonthefloor,tograbhisarmbeforehelaunchedhimselfforward.“Hey,
holdup.”
Hisgazesnappedtome,eyesfierce.“Whatthefuckishedoinguphere?Ishebothering
you?”
“It’sallright,”Isaid,thankfulGeraldhadalreadydisappearedaroundthesecond
setofstairs,andapparentlyhadn’tnoticedFostercomeout.“Itookcareofit.”
“Tookcareofwhat?”
Icouldfeeltheangerrumblingthroughhim,mygriponhisarmquiveringwithit.
Theintensityofitscaredmealittle.“Hecamebytoapologize.Iopenedthedoor,
thinkingitwasyou.ButIhandledit.It’sfine.”
Heclosedhisdoorbehindhimwithunnecessaryforceandwalkedmeovertomyown,
guidingmebackintomyapartment.Whenheshutmydoor,heturnedtomewithaccusing
eyes.“Whatwereyouthinking?Youjustopenedyourdoor?Nochain?”
“Iforgot.”
“Youpromisedme,Cela,”hesaid,hisjawclenchedashelookedbacktowardmyclosed
door.“God,doyouevenrealizehowdangerousitisforawomantobethatcareless?”
Igrittedmyteethathisadmonishingtoneandhisfirmgriponmyshoulder.“Isaid
itwasanaccident.Iwasexpectingyou.”
“Anaccident?”Thatonlyseemedtoheightenthefurorinhiseyes.“Whatifhehad
pushedhiswayinhere,huh?Hecouldhaveattackedyouwithoutanyoneseeingadamn
thing.Lockedbothofyouinheretogether.”
“Backoff,okay?”IsaidasIslippedfrombeneathhishand.“Itwasn’tanything.
I’mfine.Ifhewantedtoattackme,hecouldhavedoneitduringoneofthecountless
timesIwasalonewithhim.”
Fosterstaredatmeforalongmoment,thenswipedahandthroughhishair,moreagitated
thanI’deverseenhim.“Youwillneveropenyourdoorwithoutcheckingagain.”
“Foster.”
“Sweartome,Cela.Andmeanitthistime.”
Ishookmyhead,confusedbythedesperateedgeinhisvoice.“Whyareyoumaking
suchabigdealoutofthis?”
“Becauseyoudon’tevenknowhowfuckingvulnerableyoumakeyourselfsometimes,”
hesaid,hisvolumerising.“Onesecond.That’sallittakes.Yesterday,whenIgot
homefrommytrip,IsawyourunninginthegoddamneddarkwithyouriPodcranked
up.Aguyonthecornerwascatcallingyouandtookaphotowithhisphone,andyou
didn’tevennotice.”
“What?”
“Thatphoneisnolongerinworkingorder,believeme.ButittookeverythingIhad
nottohaulyourightoffthestreet.”
Ishudderedatthethoughtofsomeonephotographingme.“I’musuallymoreawarethan
that.”
“No.You’renot.YouknowhowmanytimesI’veseenyouwalkingthroughtheparking
lotatnightwithyourphonetoyourearoryourearbudsin?Youhavenoawareness
ofyoursurroundings.”
Istaredathim.“You’vewatchedmeintheparkinglot?Whatthehell?”
“See,youdon’tevenrealizethatforthelastfewmonths,wegethomearoundthe
sametimeeachday.Icouldbetwostepsbehindyou,andyouwouldn’tnotice.Icould
grabyou,andyouwouldn’tevenhavetimetoscream.”
Iwrappedmyarmsaroundmyself,notsurehowtohandlethisversionofhim.“You’re
freakingmeout,Foster.”
“Good,”hesaid,steppingclose.“Ineedyoutobescaredenoughtostartlooking
outforyourself.”
“Nowholdup,”Isaid,histonepushingallmygo-to-hellbuttons.“I’mnotachild,
sodon’ttalktomelikeI’mone.I’vemanagedjustfinewithoutsomeguytelling
mewhattodoforalongtimenow.You’renotmydad.”
Hecrowdedintomyspace,energyrollingoffhim.“No,I’mnot.ButIamincharge
untilyoutellmeotherwise.AndI’morderingyoutostopbeingsocareless.Going
forward,ifIcatchyoudisregardingyoursafety,Iwillmakesureyouneverforget
thatruleagain.”
Iputmyhandsagainsthischesttostophimfromcomingcloser,unabletothinkstraight
whenhewassonear.“You’rebeingajerk.”
“I’mtryingtoprotectyou.”
“Idon’tneedyourprotection,allright?Icanwatchoutformyself.”
“Cela,”hesaid,histonedangerouslylow.
“No.Iagreedtotrythiswithyoubecauseyoutakingchargewithsexisexciting.
Ilikethat.ButIdidn’tfreakingagreetobetalkedtolikeI’msomedumbkidwho
shouldn’tplayoutsidealone.”
Hisfrowndeepened,hisgazepinningme.“ThenmaybeIwasn’tclear.Itakethisseriously,
Cela.Ifyou’regoingtobewithme,thatmeansyou’remyresponsibility.Topleasure,
topushyoutoyouredge,sure,butalsotokeepyousafe,totakecareofyou.”
Tearsoffrustrationburnedinmythroat,andmyfistsclenchedagainsthisshirt.
“Goddammit,Foster,don’tmessthisupalready.Idon’tneedacaretaker.I’vegot
enoughpeopleinmylifetryingtodothat.Ionlywanttobewithyou.Can’twejust
dothat?Betogether?”
Hesighed,puttinghishandsovermyfists.“Icanbeflexiblewithalot.Butnot
this.”
“You’rebeingunreasonable.”
“Well,howaboutwebothgetoneunreasonablethingeach?Myprotectivenesscanbe
mine.”
Hishandswerewarmaroundmine,andhisgazehadsoftened.Ihuffed,annoyedthat
theonesimplelookcoulddimmyire.“Idon’thaveanythingtobeunreasonableabout.”
Hismouthliftedattheside,hisheadtilting.“Oh,soyourjealousyofwomenIwas
withbeforeIevenknewyouistotallyrational?”
Isniffed.“Totally.”
“Uh-huh,”hesaidgrinningfullyashereleasedmyfistsandwrappedhisarmsaround
me.
MybodysurrenderedtohisembraceeventhoughIwasstillstewingontheinside.
“I’mnotgoingtolivemylifescared.”
“I’mnotaskingyouto.Ionlyneedyoutobemoreaware.”Histhumbwasstroking
mytailbonenow,andIhatedthatIdidn’twanttomoveoutofhishold.“I’veseen
alotofuglystorieswithbadoutcomesinmylife,angel.”
“Yoursister,”Isaidquietly.
“Notjusther.”
Ifrowned.“Whatdoyoumean?”
Hepulledbackfromtheembraceandlookeddownatme,strainstilltherearoundthe
cornersofhiseyesandthesetofhismouth.“Nottonight,okay?Idon’twantanything
elsetotaintourevening.ButIpromise,I’llshowyouwhatImean.Tomorrow,okay?”
“Okay,”Isaid,nodding,notknowingwhatelsetosay.Hegavemeanothersqueeze,
andwestayedlikethatforafewlongseconds.Whenhereleasedme,heseemedto
havepulledhimselfbackintothecalm,unruffledmanIknew.Heranapalmovermy
hair.
“Now,whydon’twestartover?”Hisgazetracedoverme.“Beginningwithhowoutrageously
sexyyoulookinthisdress.MyGod.”
Ishould’vesmiled,thankedhimforthecompliment,butafterthesurpriseofhis
intenseprotectiveness,allmyinsecuritiesaboutwhatIdidn’tknowabouthimflooded
intomysystem.Yes,he’dtoldmeabouthissister,butwhatelselurkedinthedepths
ofhispast?Andhowfardidthisprotectivestreakgo?WasIgoingtohavetoreport
inlikeIusedtodowithmyparents?Thethoughtmademystomachtilt.MaybeIdidn’t
reallyknowFosteratall.Iknewcasual,neighborFoster,butnotdominant,boyfriend
Foster.
AndIwasgivingmyselftohim.
Doubtcrawledupmyspineandrootedthereatthebackofmybrain.
Maybemybrotherhadbeenright.
Maybethiswasamistake.
MaybeI’djumpedintoallofthistoosoon.
Iturnedawayandgrabbedmypurse,afainttremorgoingthroughmyfingers.“Ireally
appreciatethedress.Youdidn’thavetodothat.”
Thewordssoundedhollowinmyears.
“Mypleasure,angel.”HetookmyhandwhenIcamebacktohisside,thoughhisgaze
wasscrutinizing,likehecouldseethethoughtsfillingmyhead.“Ready?”
Inodded.
Butforthefirsttimesincemeetinghim,Iwasn’tsosure.TWENTY-SIX
Therestaurantwasbuzzing,butFosterhadsecuredoneofthequieterboothsintheback.Lotofgooditwasdoingthough,sinceCelaseemed
tobeinaparticularlytight-lippedmood.Heopenedhismouthtoaskheranother
question,tryingtodrawherout,butanothervoiceinterrupted.
“Well,lookwhoitis.Gladtoseeyoucouldfinallymakeit,”KadeVandergriffsaid
stoppingbyFosterandCela’stable.“Everythingtastingokay?”
Fostersmiledandstoodtoshakehisfriend’shand.Kadeownedtherestaurantand
hadinvitedhimtoattendhismonthlyinvitation-onlynightmoretimesthanFoster
couldcount,buthe’dneverbeenabletomakeit.“Themealhasbeenexcellentso
far—eachcourseoutdoingthenext.Thanksfortheinvite.”
KadeglancedoveratCelawithawarmexpression.“Andwhoisyourlovelydate?”
“ThisisCelaMedina.Cela,myfriendKadeVandergriff.Heownstheplace.”
Celasmiledandliftedherhand,asifpreparingforashake,butKadesimplynodded
ather,followingrulesCeladidn’tevenrealizewereinplace.“Lovelytomeetyou.”
“Samehere,”shesaid,placingherhandsbackinherlap.“Andthefood’sbeengreat.
ThatavocadoappetizerwasoneofthebestthingsI’veeverputinmymouth.”
Therewassilenceforamoment,thenKadechuckled,andFostercoughedoverhisown
laugh.
Shecringedinstantly.“Sorry.That’snotexactlywhatImeanttosay.”
Kadegrinned.“Sorry,welooklikemen,butuphere”—hepointedtohistemple—“pure
twelve-year-old.”
Shesmirkedbackatthetwoofthem,browneyespickingupthetwinkleofthecandlelight
onthetable.ItwasthefirstsparkFosterhadseeninhersincethey’darrivedat
dinner.She’dbeenmaddeninglysubduedupuntilthen.“Noworries.I’vebeenaround
collegeboysforsevenyears.Idon’tthinkI’mcapableofbeingoffendedanymore.”
“Goodtoknow,”KadesaidasFosterslidbackinthebooth.“Well,I’llleaveyou
toeachother.Ionlywantedtosayhello.Enjoytherestofyournight.I’msure
I’llseeyouagainbeforeyouleave.”
Theyexchangedgood-byeswithKade,andthewaiterbroughtoutthemaincourse—abeautiful
plateofDungenesscrabandfiletmignon.Fosterpickeduptheconversationwhere
theyhadleftoffbeforeKadehadstoppedby,discussingsomeofthequestionsCela
hadsenthimwhenshereadthroughthebinder.Butafterawhile,herealizedshe’d
gonebacktobeingpensiveandquiet.
Hewatchedherpickingatherfoodlikeshehadgruelinfrontofherinsteadoftop-notch
cuisine.Heknewshewasn’toneofthosewomenwhodidn’teat,soobviouslysomething
wasbotheringher.Nodoubthisearlieroutburstoverheropeningherdoorhadn’t
goneoverwell,buthehadn’tbeenabletohelphimself.Lastnight,it’dtakenevery
bitofself-controlnottoloseitwhenhe’dseenherblithelyrunningalongthestreets
oftheneighborhoodinthefuckingdark.Thatassholewho’ddaredtotakeaphoto
ofhershouldbethankingtheuniversethatallhe’dendedupwithwasabrokenphone.
AndthenseeingthatpervertGeraldleavingherdoortonight…
God,Fosterhadgottensicktohisstomachinstantly,flashesofthatscumputting
hishandsonCela,hurtingher,hadracedthroughhismind.Celamightnotseeit,
buthe’dseenhowGeraldleeredatherwhenshewasn’tlooking.Theguywasasleazy
predator—maybeadormantonefornow—butFoster’sguttoldhimthatit’donlytake
themerestsliceofopportunitytopushGeraldbackinthatmode.He’dseentoomany
ofGerald’skindinhislifenottorecognizeitforwhatitwas.
Hesetdownhisforkandtookasipofhisicedtea.“Soareyougoingtotellme
what’swrongorareyougoingtospendtherestoftheeveningrearrangingyourplate?”
Celalookedup,abitstartled,likeshe’dbeencaughtinsomesecretiveact.“What?”
“Well,tonightgotofftoarockystart,Iknow,butyouseemtobeamillionmiles
away.Tellmewhat’sgoingon.”
“Thismealmustbecostingyouafortune,”shesaidbluntly.
Fosterliftedabrow,thestatementcatchinghimoffguard.“I’mnotreallyconcerned
aboutthat.”
Shepeeredtowardtherestoftherestaurantasifworriedsomeonewouldoverhear
them,thensighed.“See,that’sexactlytheproblem.OnemomentIfeelsocloseto
you,likewe’veknowneachotherforever.Thenthenext,Ifeellikewe’restrangers
andthatIdon’tknowyouatall.”
Thewordssettledlikebouldersinhisstomach.“Whatareyoutalkingabout?”
Sheshookherheadandlookeddownatherplate,drawingtracksinhermashedpotatoes
withthetinesofherfork.“Wedidthisbackward.Chemistryandsexfirst,dating
second.There’ssomuchIdon’tknowaboutyou.”
Hefrowned,notsurewhatthishadtodowiththemealbeingexpensive.“I’mnottrying
tohideanything,angel.Youcanknowwhateveryou’dlike.”
“Really?”sheasked,liftingahopefulgazetohis.
Heshrugged.“Really.”
“Good.ThenIhavesomequestions.”
Heleanedbackintheseat,willingtobeopenbutwaryatwheretheconversation
wasgoing.“Suchas?”
“Whydoyouliveinourapartmentcomplexwhenclearlyyouhavethemeanstolive
someplacemuchnicer?Doyouhavetosavemoneyforalimonyorchildsupportorsomething?
Haveyoueverbeenmarried?Doyouhavekidssomewhereoutthere?”
Hestaredather,stunnedbytherapid-fireinterrogationandthenatureofherquestions.
Itwasasifhe’duncorkedashakenbottleofchampagneandeverythingwasspilling
outatonce.“You’reworriedIhavekids?Jesus,Cela.Youdon’tthinkIwould’vementionedsomethingasbigasthat?”
Shedroppedherforkontoherplatewithaclinkandgavehimanexasperatedlook.
“HowamIsupposedtoknow?You’reimpossibletofigureoutsometimes.AndIread
allthestuffinthatbinder.Iknowhowseriousadecisionthisis—tobeyour”—she
wetherlipsandglancedtowardthediningroomagain,loweringhervoice—“submissive.
I’msupposedtotrustyouwitheverypartofme.HowcanIdothatwhenthere’sso
muchIdon’tknowaboutyou?”
Henodded.“Igetit.That’sfair.”
“Socanyoutellmethosethings?”
Hesighed,understandingherdesiretoknoweverything,butnotexactlylookingforward
todredginguphispast.“Ican.No,I’veneverbeenmarried—thoughIdidpropose
tosomeoneonce.Shesaidno.”
Sheblanchedabitatthatbutcovereditquickly.
“Ihavenochildren.Andyes,Icouldaffordtolivesomewhereelse,butIlivein
theapartmentwithPikebecauseIownthebuilding,andthere’snoreasonformeto
liveinsomelavishhousewhenI’vegotallIneedthere.Throwingwealtharoundis
kindofmyparents’thing,notmine.Plus,it’sclosetowork.”
“Holdup,”shesaid,liftingherpalmtowardhim.“Youownthebuilding?”
Hetookasipofhiswater.“Yes.Mygrandmotherusedto,butsheleftittomewhen
shepassedaway.WhenIturnedtwenty-onethatbuildingandanumberofotherproperties
becamemine.IwasonlyfivewhenshediedsoIthinkshewashopingI’dgrowupto
becomeareal-estatemogulorsomething.”
Celamadesomenoiseinthebackofherthroat,likeshecouldn’tquiteprocessthat
information.“Soyou’relike…wealthy?”
Helaughedatthedistastewithwhichshe’dutteredthelastword.“Yousaythatlike
it’sabadthing,angel.Mybusinesshasdoneverywellforme,andIalsoownaportion
ofmyfamily’sestate.Mostwomenwouldputthatintheirpluscolumn.”
Sheshookherhead,clearlyalittledumbstruckbytheknowledge,whichsurprised
him.Besideslivinginamoremodestplace,he’dneverhiddenthatfact.Thefurnishings
inhisplacewerehigh-end,hisclothestailored,andhedroveaMercedesSUV.Of
course,unlikehisparents,hedidn’thaveadriverandacookoranyofthatnonsense
thatscreamedMoney!buthelivedcomfortably.
“Iknewyouweresuccessful,”shesaid,almosttoherself.“Butwealthyislike…
outthere.Intimidating.”
“Oh,angel,”hesaid,amused.Thiswasdefinitelyanewreactiontohisfinancial
status.Mostwomen,especiallyoncetheyfoundoutabouthisfamily,couldn’tthink
ofmuchelse.“ItoldyouIownedacompany.”
“Butyeah,maybeitwaslikesomelittlesmalllocalbusiness.Youknow,momandpop.
Not‘IcanvacationonmyyachtintheSouthofFranceifIwant.’”
Hechuckled,andwasabouttopointoutthathedidn’townayachtandthathe,in
fact,hatedboats,butquicklysquashedthereactionwhenherealizedshewaspanicking.
Hehadnoideawhy,buttherewasafranticgleaminhereyes.Hetossedhisnapkin
offhislapandgotuptoslidenexttoher,drapinghisarmoverhershouldersand
pullinghernexttohim.“Hey,what’sthisallabout?What’sgoingoninthathead
ofyours?”
Shelookedover,somemixtureofembarrassmentandsadnessreflectingbackathim.
“I’mthinkingthatImightbeinovermyhead.Thatyou’reprobablyusedtowomen
whoknowexactlywhattodoandwearandbe.I’mthinkingthatI’mjustagirlwho
hasnoideawhat’sshe’sdoing.”
Hefrowned.“You’renot‘just’anything,Cela.”
Sheglanceddownatherhands.“MaybeI’malittleoverwhelmedbyitall.”
“YouknowwhatIthink?”Heliftedherfacewithafingerunderherchin.“Ithink
you’recomingupwiththingstoworryaboutbecauseyou’rescaredaboutwhathappens
now.Forthefirsttimeinyourlife,youtookahugeriskandwentagainstthegrain
ofeverythingyou’veeverbeen.Youfollowedyourgut,andnowyourheadislooking
forareasonforusnottodothis.”
“That’snottrue,”shemumbled,staringathistieinsteadoflookingathim.“I’m
notlookingforareason.”
“Cela,”hesaid,hisvoiceholdingwarning.“Don’t.Youknowyoucanbackoutofthis.
There’salwaysanescapehatch.Butlyingtomeisonlygoingtoresultinyougetting
turnedovermyknee,andasoreass.”
Herlipsparted,apparentlystartledintosilenceatthethreat.
“YouhavetoknowIseeyoumorethanjustsomegirl,”hesaid,histonegentling.
“Sostopsayingstupidthingslikethatandtalktome.Doyouneedmoretime?Do
youwantout?IsitbecauseIjumpedonyourcaseearliertonight?Ordidyourfamily
freakoutoveryoustaying?Givemethetruth.”
Sheclosedhereyesandtookalongbreath.
“Howdidyourfamilytakeit,bytheway?Ishould’veaskedthatearlier.I’msorry.
Iknowthathadtobehard.”
Hergazemethis,thendartedaway.“They…handleditokay.”
Theoffnoteinhervoiceandshiftingeyecontactmadehisradargoonalert.“Cela…”
Herthroatworkedassheswallowed.“It’sfine.IthinkI’mjustfreakingmyselfout.
WhatifIcan’tdothis?WhatifI’mnotwhatyouneedmetobe?”
Hischestsqueezedatthelastpart,andheputthepreviousstatementasidefornow.
He’dhandlethatissueinasecond.Hecradledherfaceinhishands.“Stopputting
somuchpressureonyourself,angel.Iwantyoutobeexactlywhoyouare.Asfor
thesubmissionthing,I’mgoingintothiswithnoexpectations.Iknowthisisnew
toyou.AllI’maskingisforyoutobehonestwithmeaswegothroughthis.Anything
elsecanbeworkedout.IunderstandthatthereisadistinctpossibilitythatI’ll
chaseyouoffwithallthis.Iknowthatandwouldneverblameyouifyoudecideyou
can’thavethistypeofrelationship.”
Hergazedrifteddownward.
“Butthefactthatyou’restillhere,thatyouchosetostay,tellsmethatthere’s
averyrealpossibilitythatatleastpartofyouneedstoexplorethis.Andyour
feartonightisnormalandmyfault.We’veracedintothisthing.It’sbeenhardnot
tobecausewhenwe’retogether,there’ssomethingsoelectricandaddictivethatall
Iwanttodoishaveyouwithme.ButI’veskippedoverthosemundanethingsthat
arejustasimportant,likeknowinghowtheotherpersontakestheircoffee,orwhat
theirfavoritemovieis,orwhattheydoalldayattheirjob.”
Sheliftedherlashes,thoseclearchocolateeyessearchinghisface.
“Solet’sstarthere,okay?Ilikemycoffeeblackwithjustalittlesugar.Myfavorite
movieisShawshankRedemption,andtomorrowI’llgiveyouatourofwhereIwork.”
Ahintofasmiletuggedathermouth.“Ilikehalf-and-halfandSweet’NLow.Myfavorite
movieisGonewiththeWind.Andmyjobinvolveslotsoffurandquestionablefluids.”
“Kinky.”
Hergrinspreadwidenow.“AndIhavenofreakingideahowtoeatthiscrab.Theonly
crabI’veeverhadstartedwithaK.”
Helaughedandcuppedherjaw,brushingagentlekissoverherlips.“Youneedto
learntotellmethesethings,angel.I’lltakecareofyou.Youjusthavetolet
me.”
Hereyesflaredabitatthat—amixtureofvulnerabilityandsexualheat.“I’mtrying.
Sir.”
Thesoftnessthatcameoverherfaceatsayingsuchasimplewordpleasedhimina
wayhecouldn’tevendescribe—andmadehimrealizesomethingveryimportant.When
sheslippedintotherole,theanxietyseemedtoliftfromher.Hisbeinglaxwith
herandlettinghereaseintoeverythingwasmaybedoingmoredamagethangood.Tonight
hehadn’tpushedtheroles,hadwantedhertofeeltotallycomfortablesotheycould
haveanopendiscussion.Butindoingso,it’dalsocausedhertooverthinkevery
lastthing.
Hewasbeginningtorealizethat’swhathisdominancecoulddoforher—easehermind
soshecouldenjoyherselfandletgo.Shehadsomuchpassionandsensualitybrewing
righttherebeneaththesurface.He’dseenitforhimself.Butkeepingitlockeddown
wasaveilofworriesaboutwhatwasproperandrightandsafe,whatotherswould
sayabouther,whatherfamilywouldthink.Hell,whatGodhimselfwouldthink.She
neededhelpbreakingthroughallthat.Andsofar,histakingchargehadbeenthe
onlythingthathadworked,whichtoldhimexactlywhatheneededtodotonight.
“Nomoreworriesforyoutonight,angel.Iknowhowtotakeawayyourfear.”
“How?”shewhispered,herattentionraptnow.
Heleaneddownanddrewhislipsalongherear.“Totakeawayallyourcontrol.”
Sheshiveredagainsthim,anddesiresurgedthroughhisbloodatthesubtlebutclear
reaction.
Yes.This.That’swhathecravedfromher.Andperhaps,itwaswhatsheneededmostaswell.
Heturnedtowardherplateandcrackedopenhercrab,pullingoutasucculentpiece
ofmeatwiththesmallfork.“Open,angel.”
Hergazestayedfixedonhim,butherlipsparted,andheslidtheforkintohermouth.
Hiscockswelledashewatchedthatlushmouthclosearoundthebite.
“That’sit,”hesaid,rubbingthepadofhisthumbovertheedgeofherbottomlip
tocatchalittlebitofthebuttersauce.“Justletallthatotherstuffgoandfocus
onthemoment.Youronlyjobrightnowistolistentome.Understand?”
“Yes,sir.”
Thewhisperedwordsandlooseningofherposturetoldhimeverythingheneededto
know.Iflefttoherowndevices,Celawouldthinkherselfintoapaniceverytime.
She’dfindsomethingtofixateon—theirdifferenceinfinancialstatusorhispast
loversorherguiltoverwhatshe’dbeentaughtgrowingup.
Hecouldn’taffordtobecasualwithhisdominance.Whethersherealizeditornot,
shewasalreadytakingadvantageofhowlaxhe’dbeen.
Hehelpedherextracttherestofhercrab,quietlylettingherfinishhermeal,then
declineddessert.Hehadbiggerplansforherthanchocolatemousse.Originally,he’d
plannedtointroducehertoafewpeopleattheafter-dinnermixer,butnowherealized
somethingelsewasinorder.Givinghertheeasywayoutwasn’tworking,soitwas
timetomakethisreal.Forher.Andforhim.
Afterthetablehadbeenclearedandthecheckpaid,hegrabbedherhandandguided
heroutofthebooth.“Ready?”
Shereachedforherpurse.“Yes.Yourplaceormine?”
“Neither,”hesaid,tuggingattheknotinhistie,thehumofconversationinthe
restaurantmatchingthehumminginhisveins.“It’stimeforyournextlesson.”
Hergazeflickedtohis,nervesandquestionmarksthereagain.“Whatdoyoumean?”
Hesmiledandpulledthetiefromaroundhisneck.“Turnaround,Cela,soIcanblindfold
you.”
Full-fledgedfearpaintedherfeaturesashereyesdartedfromthetieinhishands
tothedinersbehindhim.Herwhisperwasharsh.“Foster.”
Hehadinformationthatcouldeaseherfear,reassureher,butthatwouldruinthis
lesson.Andofallthelessons,thiswasthemostvitalofthemall.“Doyouthink
Iwouldeverdoanythingtotrulyharmorembarrassyou?”
Herexpressionwaspained—somebattlewagingbetweenherinstincttopleaseandher
fearofbeingjudgedbyothers.“No,butFoster,wecan’t,whatwill—”
“Turnaround,Cela.”
Shesqueezedhereyesshut,herfistsballedathersides.Hehatedseeingherthis
distressed,buttheyhadtogetoverthishurdle.Itwasput-uporshut-uptime.
Shestoodthereforafewlongseconds,andhisownanxietythatshe’dusehersafe
wordbegantoburninhisbelly.Butfinally,bysomemiracle,sheturnedaround.
Hisbreathwhooshedoutofhim—thesimplegestureamonumentaldisplayoftrust.ThankGod
Hesteppedupbehindherandplacedthesilktieoverhereyes.Herbodywasshaking
againsthim,butshedidn’tmoveawayfromhistouch.Whenhe’dknotteditatthe
backofherhead,hewrappedhisarmsaroundfrombehind.“Goodgirl.Idon’ttake
thegiftofyourtrustlightly.”
“Arepeoplestaringatus?”sheaskedmiserably.
“Iftheyare,it’sonlybecausetheyappreciateaprettydisplayofsubmission.These
peoplearealllikeus,angel,”hesaid,rubbinghishandsalongherbarearms.“Seeing
agirlwithablindfoldisaboutasshockingasseeingonewithdarkhair.”
“What?”
“Kade’smonthlypartiesareinvitation-onlyforaveryselecttypeofpeople.Iwould
neverembarrassyouinpublic,angel.You’resafewithme.”
Herbodysaggedagainsthim.“Thankyou,God.”
“Don’tthankHimyet,”Fostersaid,placingakissonhershoulder.“I’mnotdone
withyou.You’veearnedapunishmenttonight.”
Shestiffenedatthat.“What?Why?”
“Iletyougetawaywithbreakingonepromisetonightinnotcheckingthedoor,but
I’mnotgoingtotolerateasecondrulebroken.Lyingtomeisunacceptable.”
Sheturnedinhisarms,facinghim,andevenwiththeblindfoldon,hecouldsense
herdefiantstare.“Ihaven’tlied.”
“YougotupsettonightbecauseIhadn’ttakenthetimetobeopenwithyouaboutmy
lifeandmypast.Youwantedhonesty,andIgaveittoyou.Butyoudidn’tgiveme
thesamecourtesy.”
“Idon’tknowwhatyou’retalkingabout.”Hertonehadgonepetulant,buthervoice
wavered—thethreatofpunishment,nodoubt,knockingheroffbalance.He’dexpected
that.Shewasaperfectionist,theAstudent,thegirlwhobentoverbackwardtodo
whatshewas“supposedto”ineveryoneelse’seyes.Beingadmonishedorcorrected
foranythingwouldbedecidedlydifficultforher.
Butpushingherpasthercomfortzonewasnecessaryandwouldonlymakeitbetter
forthemboth.
“Oh,really?Sowhenexactlywereyougoingtotellmeyouhadn’ttoldyourfamily
you’restayinghere?”
Shemadeafacelikehe’dpinchedher.“Foster,I’msorry,it’sjustso—”
Hepressedhisfingersoverhermouth,hushingher.“Don’twasteanymorewords,angel.
It’stimetoapologizemyway.”
PARTVI
NOTUNTILYOUSURRENDER
TWENTY-SEVEN
Eventhoughtherestaurantwasn’tcold,Icouldn’tstopshaking.Fosterhadblindfoldedmewithhistieinfrontofallthesepeople.Yes,
apparentlyeveryonewashereforsomesortofprivatekinkyparty,butthatdidn’t
makeitbetter.Thiswasdeclaringanintenselyprivateandpersonalthingtoacrowd.
ItwentagainsteverythingI’dbeentaughtgrowingup.Youweren’tsupposedtodo
“naughty”thingsinthefirstplace,butifyoudid,yousureasheckdidn’ttell
anyone.BeingsubmissivetoFosterinthesafetyofabedroom,exposingmydesires
tohim,hadbeenchallengeenough.Butthiswasfar,farbeyondthat.Iwasstill
wearingallofmyclothes.I’dneverfeltmorenaked.
VoicesmurmuredaroundusasFosterguidedmeforwardthroughthediningroom,and
Isilentlywishedforahatchtoopenupinthefloorandsuckmein.Thesepeople
knewnow,knewwhatIdoing.AndprobablyhadfiguredoutthatIwasinsomesortoftrouble.
Embarrassmentburnedmyface,andIloweredmyhead.God,whatmusttheybethinking?
Panicandshamecoalescedinsideme,swirlingintoanuncomfortablemix.Mysafeword
hoveredinthebackofmythroat,butwhenIopenedmymouth,Icouldn’tbringmyself
touseit.
AndIdidn’tknowwhyIcouldn’tfreakingsayit.Oneword,andIhadfullconfidencethatFosterwould
endthisrightnow.Hedidn’thavetherighttopunishmelikeIwassomedisobedientchild.Icouldgohomeandchalkthisuptosomething
that’snotforme.Moveon.Ihadn’teventoldmyfamilyIwasn’tcominghome.Icould
simplyreverttomyoriginalplan.
Butpicturingthatscenarioleftmefeelinghollowontheinside.Somestrangepart
ofmewantedtomakeituptoFosterforlyingtohim,wantedtoshowhimthatIcould
handlewhateverhemetedout.EvenifIdidn’treallyknowifIcouldhandleit.Ifhemademedosomethinginfrontofallthesepeople…
Mythroatseemedtocloseup.
“Breathe,Cela,”Fostersaid,hisvoicealow,warmcaressovermyearashisarm
tightenedaroundme.
“I’mtrying,”Isaidinastrangledwhisper.
Trust.
Itwasreallywhatthislessonwasabout.Iwasathismercy.Hewasmakingmewalk
onanarrowledgewithonlyhishandtokeepmybalance,andIhadtoputallofmy
faithinhiminthemoment—believethathewouldonlysubjectmetowhatheknewI
couldhandle.
AnoldhomilyfromchurchsnuckintomybrainatthatlastthoughtandIsnorted—the
comparisonabsurdconsideringthecircumstances.
“Youfindsomethingfunny,angel?”Fosteraskedwryly.
“No,sir.”Igaveaswiftshakeofmyhead,mynervesmakingmeneardelirious.“I’m
sorry.Justarandom,bizarrothought.”
“Oh,please,”hesaid,slowingourstepand,basedontheswishofairthatblewover
myface,openingadoor.“Dosharewiththeclass.”
Iblewoutabreathandlookedtowardhim,eventhoughIcouldn’tseeanythingthrough
thesilkovermyeyes.“Iwasthinkingthisisoddlyreligious—theamountofblind
faithrequired.OurpriestusedtotalkabouttrustingGodtoonlygiveyouwhatyou
couldmanage.”
ThistimeFoster’svoiceheldamusement.“Ifyou’recomparingmetoGod,angel,I
totallyapprove.”
Adoorshutsomewherebehindus.
“Soyoudecidedtoplayafterall?”anothervoiceinterjected,givingmeastart.
Mymouthclampedshut,andallhumorvanishedfrommysystem.IcrowdedagainstFoster’s
side,awayfromtheothervoiceandapproachingfootsteps,likeamousewho’dheard
acat’shungrymeow.
Fostergavemyhipasqueeze.“Yes.Changeofplans.”
“Fantastic.Well,wehaveequipmentsetuponsecondlevelinthemainspace.It’s
notafullyoutfitteddungeonsinceweonlybringintemporarystufffortheseparties,
butIthinkyou’llfinditadequate.Afewpeoplehavewandereduptherealready.
Wealsohaveafewthingssetupinthebanquetroomdownthehall.”
Irealizedquickly,listeningtotheothermantalk,thatthiswasKade,therestaurant
ownerI’dmetearlier.MyholdonFostereasedfromdeathgripdowntoonlymildpanic.
I’dinstantlylikedKade,hismannereasyandhiseyeskind.Plus,knowingwhowas
ontheothersideofmyblindfoldmademefeelmarginallybetter.Hewassimplythe
partyhost,tellinguswherewecouldgo.Ididn’tletmymindprocesstherestof
whathe’dsaid—talkofdungeonsandotherpeopleandsuch.Nope.Wasn’tgoingtothink
aboutthat.
Not.At.All.
Anxietybitatmelikeruthlesssnappingturtles.
“Thankyou,Kade,”Fostersaid,shiftingmeforwardabitandtakingmebytheelbow.
“I’mnotsurethat’squitewhatIhaveinmind.”
Thankyou,thankyou,thankyou.Mybodymeltedinrelief.
Yes,Icouldgettotallyturnedonimaginingwatchingothersordoingthingsinfrontofthem.Butactuallydoingit—yeah,thatmightmakemepassoutinsheerterror.I’dbarelygottencomfortable
beingsexualinfrontofFostermuchlessstrangers.
“Iunderstand,”Kadesaid.
“ButIwashoping,”Fostercontinued,“youmightbeabletohelpusoutinanother
way.”
“What’dyouhaveinmind?”Kadeasked,hiscuriosityandinterestevidentinhisvoice.
Icouldalmostpicturehimthere,blondheadtilted,mischiefsparkinginthoseblue
eyes.
FosterleftmysideforamomentashespokeinlowtoneswithKade.Iinclinedmy
headtowardthesoundbutcouldn’tmakeoutmostofthedamnwords.ButthefewI
didhearmademyspinegostiff.WasheinvitingKadetobepartofmypunishment?Oh,hellsno.
“Foster,”Isaidinaharshwhisperasmybodystartedtoquakewithnervesagain.
Hedidn’tanswer.Ifeltlikeachildurgentlytryingtogetherparent’sattention,
lookingforapantlegtotugon.“Sir.”
“Hush,”hesaid,abitetothesimpleword.
“Icandefinitelyhelpyououtwiththat,”Kadesaid,asmileinhistone.
Oh,screwthis.Isteppedback,bumpingintoawall,andyankedthetieoffmyeyes,
frustrationandfearsurginginmelikeabattlecry.
Foster’sfrownwasunmistakableinthesoftlightofthehallway.“Cela.”
“No,”Isaid,wordsspillingoutofmewithoutgoingthroughanykindoffilter.I
threwthetieontotheground.“Ilied,okay?SoIdidn’ttellmyfamilyyet.Big
deal.Itwasn’tafreakingcapitalcrime.Thatdoesn’tmeanyoushouldgettopunish
meandinviteyourfriendsalongfortheride.”
“Invitemy—”ThundercloudscrossedFoster’sexpression,anominousspringstormblotting
outthesunshine,andhesteppedforward.Automatically,Ipressedmybackfullyagainst
thewall,halfhopingitwouldjustabsorbmeintoit.Tomydismay,thedrywalldidn’t
cooperate.Fostermovedintomyspace—nottouchingme,nottrappingme,butfreezing
meinplacenonethelesswiththehardlookinhiseyes.Hisvoicewaslikeawinter-chilled
gustwhenhespokeagain.“Notabigdeal?Wereyouorwereyounottheonewhowanted
tostaysothiscouldbecomearelationship—notjustkinkyfun?”
“Whatdoesthathavetodowithanything?”Isaid,mywordssharpbutmyvoicequavering
andmyfingerspressingintothewallforsupport.
“Youliedtome.Peopleinrelationshipsaresupposedtobehonest,totalkaboutwhatthey’re
goingthrough.”
“Anditpissedyouoff,”Isaidinahuff.“Igetit.I’msorry.IsaidIwassorry.”
Hescoffed.“Pissed?Youthinkthisisaboutmebeingpissed?”Hebenthisheadtoward
me,hisgazeboringintomine.“I’mhurt,Cela.Ifyou’rejustusingmetogetsomewildoatsoutyoursystem,thenfucking
tellmethat.AtleastIknowwhereIstand.Butdon’tmakemecareaboutyou,and
thennoteventrustmeenoughtotalktome.HowwouldyoufeelifIsaidyourpunishment
wasthatIgettotellonefreelietoyouwhenthetimesuitsme?Wouldthatseem
likeabigdeal?”
Iglancedaway.Thatwould,ofcourse,beawful—wonderinganytimehesaidsomething
ifthiswasthetimehewasgoingtochoosetolie.Gah.Ididn’twanthimtomakesense.Myrighteousindignationfeltsomuchbetterthan
thinkingI’dactuallyhurthim.
“Youknowwhatitmakesmefeellikewhenyoulietome?”heasked,hisvoicesoft
now.
Ipressedmylipstogetherandshookmyhead,feelingalittlemoremiserablewith
eachpassingsecond.
“Likeyourfuckbuddy,Cela.Likesomeguy.”
Iwincedathispainedtone.
Soitwastrue.I’dhurthim.
Thethoughtranthroughmyheadlikeastormwarningonrepeat.Hurt.Hurt.Hurt.
Fosterwasn’tjustangrythatI’dliedtohim;thelieandmylackoftrusthadhonestly
affectedhim.AndthatdidsomethingtomeIcouldn’tevenexplain.Hurtmeantthat
thiswasimportanttohim.Hurtmeantthathisfeelingswereinvolved.Hurtmeant
thatearliertonighthehadn’tjumpedmycaseaboutthepeepholebecausehewassome
overbearingasshole—hediditbecausehewasgenuinelyconcernedaboutme.
Hurtmeanteverything.
AndeventhoughIhadn’trealizedI’dneededconfirmationofthat,somethingragged
insidemesmoothed.Myheartwasn’ttheonlyoneonthelinehere.Wewerebothstripped-down
andvulnerable.
Andhewasright.HowcouldIdemandallthoseanswersfromhimoverdinneronlyto
lietohimwhenhe’daskedaboutmyfamily?Ihadn’twantedtolooklikeacoward
orexplainwhyitwassohard.Buthewasright.Ifweweregoingtobetogether,
IneededtostopshowinghimonlythepartsofmeIwantedhimtosee.
“I’msorry,”Isaidagain,andinthatmoment,Irealizedhowdamnpatheticthose
wordssounded.Whatdidtheymeananyway?Thosewordsweresupposedtomakeeverything
better?Showtrueremorse?
NowIunderstood.
Withoutsayinganotherthing,Itookadeepbreathandslowlyloweredmyselftomy
knees.Oncethere,IpickedupFoster’stie,andliftedittohim,stayingonthe
floorathisfeet.Hestareddownatme,blueeyesgoingtender,andtookthestrip
ofsilkfrommyhands.“Thankyou.Standup,angel.”
Hetookmyhandinhis,helpingmetomyfeet,thenliftedmyhandtohismouthto
brushakissovermyknuckles.Hisgazestayedonmine,conveyingsomuchthrough
justonelook.Appreciation.Heat.Andrelief.He’dbeenafraidIwasgoingtowalk
out.Finally,heturnedhisheadandsentacurtnodtowardKade,who’dstayedin
theshadowswhilewe’dbeenarguing.Fostertiedtheblindfoldovermyeyesagain
andthenplacedmyhandinthecrookofhiselbowtoguideusfurtherdownthehall.
Ihadnoideawhereweweregoingorwhatawaited.Butthoughnervesstillbubbled
inmybelly,therestofmehadmorphedintoresolve.Fostercaredaboutme.AndI
trustedhim.IfhewasgoingtohaveKadebeapartofthings,thenIneededtohave
faiththathewouldonlytakeitasfarashethoughtIcouldhandle.Andifeither
ofthemtriedsomethingIdidn’tlike,Ihadmysafeword.Iknewdowninmygutthat
Fosterwouldhonorthatnomatterwhat,sothatgavemethecouragetokeepputting
onefootinfrontoftheother.EvenwhenIfeltdampnightairhitmyface.
“Takeoffyourshoes,angel,”Fostersaid,hisbreathgustingovermyneck.“Idon’t
wantyoutostumble.”
“Okay.”Keepingmyhandonhimtosteadymyself,Islippedoutofmyheels.Mybare
feethitasmooth,unevensurface—likethecobblestonethatpavedthesidewalkinto
therestaurant.Surelyhecouldn’thavemestandingbarefootandblindfoldedinfront
ofthebuilding,right?Therewasaparkinglotoutthereandwindowsalongthefront
oftherestaurantwhereanyonewouldbeabletoseeme.Iwetmylips,worrylike
aheavycoatIcouldn’tshrugoff.
“Easy,”hesaid,liftingmyhairoffmyshoulderandpressingakisstothecolumn
ofmyneck,sendingshiversdowntomypaintedtoenails.“Justtrytobreatheand
focusonmyvoiceandtouch.That’sallyouneedtoworryabout.NotKadeorwhat’s
aroundyou.Justmeandwhatyou’refeeling.”
“Yes,sir.”Inodded,warmthfromthesimplefeelofhislipsagainstmyskingathering
low.“IsKadestillhere?”
“No,he’sgettingafewthingsforme.Butsee,you’restillworrying.Focus,angel.”
Isighedandclosedmyeyesbehindtheblindfold,tryingtocentermyselfandpay
attentiononlytoFoster—hisgentletouchesandkisses,hisscentmixingwiththe
faintscentofsomethingearthyintheair,andthewarmthofhisbodynexttomine.
Soon,Icouldsensemymusclesstartingtounwindabitandmymindeasing.
Afewminuteslater,footstepssoundedtomyright,andIknewwewerealonenolonger.
Fostershiftedandleftmyside.Therewasarustlingsoundandlow-spokenwords.
Ikeptbreathing.Mostly.I’dlearnedintheclassthatsubmittingcouldalmostbe
ameditativestate,likereachingsomeotherplane,andIwantedtogetthere.Foster
hadbroughtmetherebefore—theplacewherenothingmatteredbutthetwoofusand
whatweweredoing,wheretimeseemedtoslowandinhibitionsfellaway.Thatwas
ahappy,happyplace.
Whenfingerstouchedmyelbowagain,Ijumped.“It’sokay,angel.I’mgoingtolead
youafewmoresteps.IpromiseIwon’tletyoufallorhurtyourself.”
IletFosterguideme,thesmoothstonescoolbeneathmyfeet,thenhewasturning
me.Onthenextstep,myfeetpressedintosomethingsoft.Ibitmylip,mymindtrying
toscanthroughwhereIcouldpossiblybe.Outfronttherewasonlystoneandthen
apavedparkinglot.ButIdidn’tdareaskthequestion.
“Cela,”Fostersaidfromsomewherebehindme.“I’mgoingtotakeoffyourdress.”
Paniclodgedinmythroat,swelling.“Foster.”
Buthisfingerswerealreadyonmyzipper.“Shh,justlistentome.Youarebeautiful,
anditpleasesmetoseeyoubaredformelikethis.Youhavenothingtofearorbe
ashamedof.”
MyfistscurledbutIforcedmyselftobreathethroughthepanic.Trust.Trust.Trust.God,I’dneverthoughtitwouldbethishardtoputthatfaithinhim.Butmymind
hadmestandinginfrontofawell-knownrestaurant.I’donlybeensemi-nakedinfront
offourguysinmylife,countingFosterandPike.AndnowhereIwas,withGodknows
wholookingon,beingstrippeddowntomybarelytherebraandpanties.Myheartwas
makingavaliantattempttobreakthroughtheprisonofmyribcageandleavemebehind.
Fosterbroughtmydressdownmyhips,thenhelpedmestepoutofit.Thenightair,
thoughwarm,instantlyraisedgoosebumpsonmyskin.“Foster,I’mkindoffreaking
out.”
Hispalmsglidedovermyupperarmsandhisbodypressedagainstmyback.Already
Icouldfeelthestirringofhisownarousal.“Takeabreath,angel.Doitwithme.
In.Out.”
Iforcedmyselftofollowhisinstructions,bringingoxygenintomylungs.
“I’vegotyou,okay?”hesaid,hisvoicequietandreassuring.“Nowliftyourarms
forme.”
ThoughIwasstillonthevergeofpanic,Iliftedthem.Handstookmywrists.Hands.
Oh,shit.Kadewasstillhere.AndfromwhatIcouldtell,hewashelpingFosterwrapsomething
aroundmywrists—ropeifIhadtoguessbytheslightlyabrasivefeelofit.Theheat
ofafull-bodyblushstartedinmycheeksandrolleddownwardlikeacrimsontide.
Theystretchedmyarmsoutabovemeatanangleandsecuredthemonoppositesides.
BeforeIcouldevenprocessthat,thesamematerialwasbeingwrappedaroundmyankles.
Fosterranapalmalongmycalf.Iassumeditwashim.Icouldn’timagineKadetaking
suchliberties,butIcouldn’tbesure.“Spreadyourlegsalittlewider,angel.”
ItwasFoster.Alittlesagofreliefwentthroughme,andIadjustedmystance.They
securedmyankles,leavingmecompletelyattheirmercybytheendofit.Iflexed
myfingers,tryingtomaintainsomesenseofcalm,butwasfailingmiserably.Iprobably
could’veprovidedelectricitytohalfthehomesintheMetroplexwiththeamountof
nervousenergyracingthroughmyveins.
“Comfortable,Cela?”
“Oh,yeah,totally.Ihangoutlikethisallthetime.”Thequipwaspastmylips
beforeIrememberedmyrolehere.Ilockedmymouthshut,preparedforahandtoland
onmyassatanysecond,butinsteadIwasmetwithchucklesfromthemboth.
“Imeant,”Fostersaidpatiently,“doesanythingfeeltootightoruncomfortable?”
“No,sir.Sorry.”
“Ididn’ttakeyouforthekindwholikesabrat,”Kadeobserved,thoughtherewas
humorinhistone.
Abrat?Ihuffed,affronted.“Excuseme,but—”
That’swhenahandsmackedthebackofmythigh,drawingayelpfromme.“Calmdown,sweetness.”
IturnedmyheadinthedirectionofFoster’svoice,hopinghecouldsensemyoh-no-you-didn’t
glare.
“She’snotabrat,”FostersaidtoKade.“She’sjustbrandnew.Andfeisty.But…”
Thevolumeofhisvoiceincreasedasheapparentlydirectedhiswordsmyway.“If
shekeepsuptryingtoglareatmelikethat,Imayhavetodemonstratewhybratting
isn’tgoingtoworkoutwellforher.Caretoaddanadditionalpunishmenttoyour
dockettonight,angel?”
Ijuttedmychinforwardbutturnedmyheadaway.Iwasopinionatedbutnotstupid.
Don’tprovoketheguywhohasyoutiedup.Thatwasprobablyagoodruletoaddto
myarsenal.“No,sir.”
“Good.NowIwantyoutocountdownfromonehundredaloud.Slowly.Whenyougetto
one,IwantyoutotallyfocusedandreadyforwhateverIaskofyou.Doyouunderstand?”
“Whereareyougoing?”Iasked,stiffeningatthethoughtofbeinglefthere.
“Doyouunderstand?”herepeated,impatiencecreepingintohistone.
“Yes,sir,”Isaid,tryingtoswallowdownmysmartremarksandquestions.
“Count.”
Itookadeepbreath.“Onehundred…ninety-nine…ninety-eight…”
Heunsnappedthehookofmystraplessbra,andthebrafellaway,mynipplesbeading
fromtheexposure.Ohcrap,ohcrap,ohcrap.Iwasnaked—outdoors.Istumbledinmycount.
Theairshiftedinfrontofme,andhegavebothnipplesaswiftpinch.Iarchedmy
backfromtheshockofit,gasping.
“Startyourcountagain,”hesaid,aquietbutforebodingdemand.“Anytimeyoumiss
anumberorpausetoolong,you’llneedtobeginagain.”
Inodded,mybodygoinghotfromthepinchandmybraintryingnottoshort-circuit.
Ihadafeelingitwasgoingtobealongnight.“Onehundred…”
TWENTY-EIGHT
“Ninety-nine,”Isaid,myvoicetremblingabitasIcontinuedcounting.
Fosterpalmedmybreasts,brushinghisthumbsoverthenow-throbbingbuds,andImoaned
withoutwantingto.EvenwiththeanxietyofnotknowingwhereIwasorifKadewas
stillthereorifanyoneelsecouldsee,Icouldn’thelpbutrespondtoFoster’stouch.
Itriedtostayfocusedonsayingthenumbers,butthatwasgettingharderwitheach
caress.
Foster’sfingertipscoastedalongthesidesofmybreasts,thendownalongmybelly
andhips,leavingtrailsoffireintheirwake.Whenhereachedthetriangleofsatin
andlacecoveringmymound,everymuscleinmybodytightened,anticipatingthefeel
ofhim.Hedrewasinglefingeralongthefrontofthesatin,slidingtelltalemoisture
alongmycleft,thenpressedagainstmyclit.
Ilostcountagain.
“Startover,”hesaid,gravelinhisvoicenow.“I’mnottakingyoudownuntilyou
gettoone,angel.”
“Onehundred,ninety-nine.”Hepushedasidemypantiesanddippedalongfingerinside
me.“Oh,God.”
“Mmm,soscaredyou’restillquiveringalittle,butyou’reaswetandhotasI’ve
everfeltyou,angel.”Hestrokedinsidemewithexpertprecision,andhisstubble
brushedmycheek.“IfIwasabettingman,I’dsayalittleexposuredoesyourbody
good.”
MyeyessqueezedtightandIkeptcountingasheaddedasecondfinger,buthard,
shudderingneedwentthroughme.Ididn’tknowwhatheconsideredpunishment.This
wasstartingtofeellikeanythingbut.Iwassowet,hisfingersglidingdeepand
coaxingresponsesfromme,thatIknewithadtohavebeenpainfullyobvioustoanyone
whomaybenearexactlyhowturnedonanddesperateIwasforhim.Somehow,Iforgot
Ishouldbeembarrassedaboutthat.Atthemoment,Ididn’tcare.
Soon,hisfingersslippedoutofmeandhegrabbedmyhips,situatingmeagainsthim.
Thehardlengthofhiscockpressedagainthewetfabricofmypanties.“Andknowing
thisgetsyousoturnedonandslickhaseverymanwatchinghotandhardforyou.”
Mybreathcaught,thewordssendingaboltofshockthroughme.“Foster.”
“Startyourcountover,beautiful,”hesaidashesteppedback.Icouldpicturehim
standingthereinfrontofme,thatsuitcoatstrippedoff,histiegone,andawickedly
satisfiedsmirkonhishandsomeface.
Icouldn’tletmymindwandertotheideathattherewereotherpeoplewhocouldsee
me.SoIjustdidwhathe’dtoldmetodo,Ifocusedonlyonhimandhisvoice.That’s
allthatmattered.Istartedmycountover.Hisfootstepssoundedofftomyleft,
andthenbehindmeagain.
“Whenyougettofifty,thisnextpartstops,”hesaid,thewordsholdinganominous
edge.BeforeIhadtimetodigestthat,asnappingsoundfilledmyearsandasharp,
stingingsensationlitupmyleftthigh.
Ihissed,thepainpointedandmoreintensethanthefloggerhadbeen.Shit,that
hurt.
“Thisisaridingcrop,”heexplained.“Givemeacolor,Cela,forthatlevelofpain.”
Color?Acolor?Mymindapparentlywasn’ttranslatingEnglishatthemoment.Itwas
toobusybuzzing.
Hesnappedmeagainontheotherthigh,andIcriedout.“Thisisyourtest,angel.
Howwelldidyoustudy?Stoplightcolorswerecoveredbothinthebinderandinclass.”
Ishookmyhead,bracingforanotherblow,whenthepictureofastoplightentered
mymind.JustlikewhenIwastakingatest,Irememberedwhereitwasonthepage.
GreenforI’mokay;yellowformightbetoomuch,checkinwithme;andredforstop,toomuch.HewantedmetogivehimanideaofhowmuchpainIcouldhandle.
“Green,”Isaidautomatically,despitetheangryprotestmyskinwasgiving.Thelevel
ofpainwasn’tabreeze,butitwasn’tbeyondwhatIcouldhandle.Infact,after
theinitialsting,thewarmththatchaseditwaskindofpleasant.
“Goodgirl,”Fostersaid.“Getbacktoyourcounting.”
Iresumedmycount,andtheblowsbegantorainovermybackandthighsinasteady
rhythm.Iwincedforthefirstfew,thebiteofthecrophardtoignore,butbythe
timeIgotdowntoseventy-five,myentirebacksidewastinglingwithheatandapleasant,
headysensationwascloudingmythoughts.
Aspromised,hestoppedwhenIhittherightnumber,andIsaggedinmybindings,
lettingtherushofitallfilterthroughmybloodstream.Hispalmsranoverthewelts
thatwere,nodoubt,risingonmyskin.“Stillwithme,gorgeous?”
“Yes,sir,”Isaidsoftly.
“God,youaresofuckingsexy,angel.”Hepressedhisfronttomyback,myskinseeming
tothrobintimetomyheartbeat.Heleftatrailofkissesovermyshoulder.“I’ve
lainawakeatnight,imaginingyoulikethis.Tiedupandtrustingandenjoyingbeing
undermyhand.Ican’teventellyouwhatitdoestometoknowyou’retakingthis
riskforme,pushingpastyourfear.”
Thewordsvibratedthroughme,creatingaglowingwarmthandacatchinmythroat.
Hisvoicewassosincere,soreverent,thatinthatmoment,Imayhavedoneabsolutely
anythingheasked.Itshould’vescaredme—thedepthofmywillingness—butrightnow,
Icouldn’tthinkpasttheblindpleasureofknowingIcouldmakehimsoundsotruly
awed.“Thankyou,sir.”
Hegavemeonelastsqueeze,thensteppedawayagain,lettingthebreezesoothemy
burningback.“Thatroundwasforopeningyourdoorwithoutchecking.You’vegotone
moretogoforlying.”
Inodded,feargettingchokedoutbyfarmorepotentthings—likelustandneedand
pleasure.“Iunderstand.”
Hetouchedthebackofmyhead,andtheblindfoldslippedaway.Ittookmeasecond
torealizewhathe’ddone,myeyesstillclosed,butsoonthelightregistered.I
liftedmylids,afraidofwhatIwasgoingtofind.Ifotherpeoplewerethere,I
knewthepanicwouldcomeback.I’dprefertohavethesafetyoftheblindfold.But
whenIblinked,focusing,Isawnoothersoul.Instead,abeautifullylushgarden
spreadoutbeforeme,gildedinmoonlightandtheglowoftwinklelightsthathad
beenstrungthroughsomeofthetrees.
Mygazemoveddownward,findingmyfeetnestledinthesoftearth,mylegssurrounded
bylovely,whiteflowers.Iliftedmyhead,takingintheropeholdingmebetween
twothick-trunkedtrees,thebranchesprovidingacanopyaboveme.Itwaslikegoing
tosleepinoneplaceandwakingupinEden.Itwas…magical.Andbreathtaking.
Fostersteppedaroundfromoneofthetrees,ridingcroprollingbetweenhisfingers
andhisgazehotonme.Theembodimentoftemptationinthegarden.“Hithere.”
Ishookmyhead,stillabitstunned.“Whatisthisplace?”
Hewalkedforward,thelowlighttracingtheanglesofhisface.“Therestaurant’s
vegetableandherbgarden.”
“It’sbeautiful,”Ibreathed,myeyesonhim.
“Nowitis.”Hetracedthetipoftheridingcropalongthecurveofmybreast.“You
looklikeyousprunguprightoutoftheearthlikethoseflowers.Sonaturallygorgeous.”
“Thankyou,sir.”
Iletmygazemovearoundthespanofthegarden,overtherowsofbellpeppers,tomatoes,
anddarkgreenbunchesofrosemaryandthyme.Nowondertheplacesmelledsoheavenly.
“IsKadestillhere?”
Foster’slipstilted.“Hehelpedmetieyouupandbroughtmemybagfromthecar.
Thenheleftandlockedthedoorbehindhimsowecouldbeallalone.”
“ButIthought—”
Hepressedtheflatleathertipoftheridingcropagainstmylips.“Itoldyouevery
manherewasturnedon.Andthat’sthetruth.Iamvery,veryturnedon,angel.I
neededtoseethatyouwouldtrustme.Youdidwell.”
Somethinginsidemebloomed.Ihadtrustedhim,butdoubtshadlingeredinmymindlikemosquitosIcouldn’tswataway.
NowIknewthathewastrulyworthyofthattrust.Hehadpushedmetoanedgebut
hadn’tviolatedmyfaithinhimbytakingitsomewhereIwasn’treadyforyet.Even
onlyknowingmeashorttime,heknewhowfartotakeit,howtopushyetstillprotect
theshakyconfidencethatwastryingtobuildintosomethingmoresolidinsideme.
Iclosedmyeyesandkissedthecrop.
Anaudiblebreathwhooshedoutofhim,andheloweredthecrop.“Youhumbleme,angel.”
Mymouthcurved,andImethisgazeagain.“Well,ifyouevergettheurgetokneel
atmyfeet,Iwon’tstopyou.”
Hissmirklithiseyeswithhumor.“MaybeIwaswrong.Youareabrat.”
“Isthatbad?”Iasked,beginningtounderstandthatthetermmustmeansomething
significantinthisworld.
“Itcanbeforsome.ButIhavetosay,I’mkindoflikingyoursmartassside.Gives
memoreopportunitytodothisinrepayment.”Hesnappedthecropagainstthetender
undersideofmybreast.
Ishriekedinsurprise,bothatthepainandthepleasurethatchasedrightupto
mynippleafterward.TheropescreakedasIshiftedmyweightinresponsetoallthe
sensation.“Ah,God.”
“Yes,nowmaybethetimeforprayer.Youhaveonemorepunishmenttohandle.”His
grinwaspuremalepromise.“Forty-ninetoone,angel.”
Iwetmylips,eyeingtheridingcropanddevelopinganinstantlove-haterelationship
withit.Howcouldsuchaninnocuous-lookingthingdishoutsuchasting?Takingits
biteonmybackwasonething,butthereweresomanymoresensitiveareasonthe
frontofme.
“Idon’thearcounting,”hechided.
Ibracedmyself.“Forty-nine.”
Theleatherlandedonmyhip,makingmepressmyteethintomyliptokeepfromcrying
out.Wow,thatwasadifferentlevel.Ibreathedthroughit,stillcounting,trusting
thatliketheweltsonmyback,thewallopwouldturnintoapleasantburn.
“Stillgreen?”heasked.
“Yes,sir,”Isaid,thoughmyteethwereclenchedabitthistime.
“Toughgirl.Ilikeit.”Hestoodinfrontofme,hiseyesrakingovermyformas
heheldthecropinhisrighthand.Everythingabouthisstanceandthelookonhis
facescreamedpowerandsexandutterconfidence.Icouldn’tremembereverbeingso
captivated.Havingallthatlustandattentionzeroedinonmewasheadierthanall
thetequilashotsintheworld.
Heliftedthecrop,andholdingmyeyecontact,snappeditrightagainstmymound—lighter
thantheotherhitsbutenoughtogettheattentionofeverycellinmybody.Ibowed
upintheropes,fightinghardtokeepmyfocusandcontinuecounting.Mysexclenched,
andmyclitthrobbedlikeit’ddevelopeditsownheartbeat.Jesus,thatfelt…
Icouldn’tevendescribeit.Shocking.Harsh.Fantastic.
Fosterdidn’tpause.Hecontinuedtheblowsoneveryexposedtenderspot—mybreasts
andnipples,thetopsofmythighs,myhips…Snap.Snap.Snap.Myskinlitwithfireandliquidheatsoakedmypanties.Irockedinthebindings,
thetwinklelightsinthetreesstartingtoblur.Thenhewasbackattheapexof
mythighs,thehitsfromearlierturningintotapsperfectlycenteredoverwhereI
neededitmost.Ihadtostartcountingoveragaintwicebecausemybrainbeganto
haze,allfocusnarrowedontotheneedforrelease.
“Please,”Iwhisperedinbetweenthelastfewnumbers.“Please.”
“Donotcome,”hewarned.
Igroanedandtiltedmyheadback,fightingagainstthetide.Finally,Ihitthenumber
oneandtomyutterdismay,Fosterstoppedthestimulation.No!Iballedmyfists,tuggingagainstthebindings,squirmingwiththeneedforrelease.
“Easy,Cela,”hesaid,goingtotheropesanduntying.“Pulltoohardandyou’llget
ropeburns.”
“I’mgoingtodie,”Ideclared.“Sir.”
Hechuckled—thebastard—andwenttomyotherarm.“Ipromise,lackoforgasmwon’t
killyou.”
Iwasn’tsosure.
Afterhe’dunfastenedmefromeverything,Irealizedmylegswereweakbeneathme.
Hekeptafirmhandonmyelbowandhelpedmeeasedowntomykneesintheflower
bed.“Youallright?”
Mybodywaspulsingandhoteverywhere,andmybraincouldn’tholdontoanythoughts
forlongerthanasecond.ThechantingcallforreleasewasallIfelt.“Yes,sir,
butIneedtocome.”
Hecuppedmycheek,smilegrim.“Welcometoyourpunishment.”
Iblinked.“Butwedidthat,youjust—”
“Andyouenjoyedeveryminuteofthatflogging.Thatwasn’tpunishment.Thisisthe
partthatwillmakeyouthinktwicebeforeyoulietomeagain.”
“Foster,”Isaid,reachingforhim,totallypreparedtobegshamelesslyatthispoint.
Hegrabbedmyhandsandrubbedhisthumbsoverthetopofthem.“Getdressed,angel.
It’stimetogohome.”
Andthoughitwasobviousfromtheerectionpressingagainsthisslacksthathewas
impossiblyturnedon,too,Icouldseeinthehardsetofhisjawthattherewould
benoswayinghim.I’dbrokenhisrules,andnowwebothwouldpaytheconsequence.
Disappointmentsettledovermelikeacold,wetblanket.
PunishmentsuckedTWENTY-NINE
Sittinginthecarontheridehomewasitsownkindoftorture.Fosterwasquiet,leavingmetomyriotousthoughts.Plus,myassandbackhurt,
everybumpintheroadjostlingmyflamingskin.IfI’dhopedthatthepainwould
distractmefrombeingsodamnturnedon,I’dbeenwrong.Instead,itremindedme
ofhowithadfeltbeingboundandmarkedbyFoster,howhe’dlookedstandingthere,
holdingthecrop—asexy,powerfulpredatorinthatlushgarden.Mymusclesclenched
lowandtight.Goddammit.Ishiftedinmyseatagain.
Hegavemeasidelongglance.“Youokayoverthere?”
“Don’ttauntme,Foster,”Isaid,mychintippedup,mytoneexceedinglypolite.
Hereachedoverandgavemykneeasqueeze.“Nottaunting,angel.Onlymakingsure
you’renothurtingtoobadly.”
Isighed,saggingintotheseatatfirstandthenrememberingquicklythatleaning
forwardwasmuchmorecomfortable.Istraightenedmyspine.“I’mokay.Ireallyam
sorryaboutthelie,forwhatit’sworth.”
Hepulledontotheinterstate,checkinghisrearviewmirror.Somehowevenwatching
himdriveacarwasrevvingmyinternalenginetonight.Thoselongfingerswrapped
aroundthesteeringwheel,theconfidencewithwhichhemaneuveredhiscar,thelong
stretchofhislegflexingwhenhepressedthegas.God,Iwasfreakinghopeless.
“Noneedtoapologizeagain,”hesaidevenly.“Youhandledtheconsequence.Consider
itforgivenandforgotten.”
Iblinkedathismatter-of-factabsolution.“Seriously?Justlikethat.Forgivenand
forgotten?”
Heglancedoveratme.“Yeah,ofcourse.Whywouldn’titbe?”
Ipeeredbackoutattheroad,takenabackbythemereconcept.“Becausethatissonothowitworksinmyfamily.Evenwhenwecompletedwhateverthepunishmentwas,
nothingwaseverforgotten.Andforgiveness—well,that’sonlygivenoutforsmall
stuff.Otherwise,forgetit.”
Foster’sfrownappearedinmyperipheralvision.“Isthatwhyyou’reafraidtotell
themaboutstayinghere?”
Ismoothedthehemofmydresswithmyfingers,notwantingtolookoverathim.“I
triedtotellmydadtheotherday,andIfrozeup.He’sgoingtofreak,andI…
well,Idon’tknowifthiscouldturnintooneofthoseunforgivableoffenses.”
“Andwhathappenswhenit’sanunforgivableoffense?”
Ishrugged.“Couldmeanhedoesn’ttalktomeforawhile,couldmeanworse.Hehasn’t
spokentomysistersinceshewasateenager.”
Foster’sfrowncutdeeper.“Whathappened?”
“Shegotpregnantatsixteenandhadanabortion.Hekickedheroutandbasically
disownedher.”
“Jesus,andhehasn’ttalkedtohersince?”
“No,andheexpectsme,mybrothers,andmymothertofollowthatedict,too.Andre
andIdon’tlisten,butmymotherdoes.”
Fostershookhishead,sadnessmarringhisfeatures.“Yourdadhasaliving,breathing
daughteroutthereintheworldandwon’tspeaktoher.Itseemssoshortsightedand
pettyevenifshedidmakeamistake.Youknowwhatmyparentswouldgivetoseemy
sisteragain?”
Ireachedoutandgrabbedhishand,thecatchinhisvoicemakingmychesttight.
“I’msorry,Foster.”
Helacedhisfingerswithmine.“I’msorry,too.Ididn’trealizehowbigofadeal
itwasgoingtobetobreakthenewstoyourfamily.Ishouldn’thavebeensohard
onyouforlyingtomeaboutit.”
“No,youwereright.Ishould’vebeenhonestwithyouaboutit.Ididn’twanttocome
acrosslikealittlegirlafraidtotellherdaddysomething.”
Hisgazeslidovertomeashepulledintotheparkinglotofourbuilding,andhis
mouthliftedatthecorner.“Believeme,Ms.Medina,youshouldhavenoconcernsabout
meseeingyouasalittlegirl.”
Icurledmylipsinward,theunapologeticstrip-me-to-my-skinlookhewasgivingme
makingmyneckflushwithheat.
Heparkedthecar,thenreleasedmyhandandcuppedmychin,tiltingmyfacetoward
him.“Punishmentcomplete,angel.Ithinknowit’stimeforusbothtoreapthereward
ofsurvivingaverylongevening.”
“Thatsoundslikethebestideayou’veeverhad,sir.”
Fosterhelpedmeoutofthecar,andIhadtostopmyselffromracingupthesteps
inallmyeagerness.Suddenly,evenonesecondnotinbedwiththismanseemedtoo
long.Automatically,Iheadedtowardmyplace,buthetuggedmetowardhisinstead.
“Thisway.”
“ButwhataboutPike?”Iasked,alittlebreathlessfrommyoverzealoussprintup
thestairs.
“Nothome.”Hedraggedmeagainsthimandplacedalong,lingeringkissonmylips.
“Mmm,”Isaid,asheeasedaway,myfingerscurlingaroundthelapelsofhissuit
jacket.I’dbeenhopingwecouldstayatmyplace.Iwasstillhavingmystupidhang-up
abouthisroom.EverytimeIsteppedinthere,Icouldn’thelpbutthinkaboutthe
otherswho’dbeenthere.Butsayingsomethingwouldonlymakemelookchildishand
petty.Ineededtogetovermyselfandmoveon.Ismiledandthrewmyarmsaround
hisneckandwithadramaticflourish,said,“Thentakemetobedorlosemeforever.”
“Showmethewayhome,honey,”hewhisperedagainstmyear,nailingtheline.
Ipulledback,lookingathiminsurprise.“DidyoujustreciteTopGunbacktome?”
Hiscockygrinwashisanswer.
“Welldone,IanFoster.Bonuspointstoyou.AndnowI’mseriouslytemptedtorip
offyourclothesrighthereinthehallwayforthat.”
Helaughedandunlockedhisdoor.“Controlyourself,woman.”
Butwhenhepulledmeinside,hedidanythingbutcontrolhimself.Hekickedthedoorshutbehindus,andbeforeIcouldtakeastep,hewaslifting
meoffmyfeetandkissingme.Iwrappedmylegsaroundhiswaist,andhetrapped
meagainstthecloseddoor,hislipsmovingoverminewithhungryintent.Iopened
tohim,andhestrokedhistongueagainstmine,cajolingeverycellinsidemetostand
upandswoon.Eveninthesimpleactofakiss,hebleddominance,commandingmybody
tosurrender.Isighedintohimandthreadedmyfingersinthethick,silkystrands
ofhishair,relishingthechancetotouchandexplorefreely.
Whenhefinallybrokeawayforusbothtogrababreath,hiswolfishgrinspreadwide.
“IbettertakeyoutomyroombeforeIfuckyouagainstthedooragain.”
“Thatwasn’tsobad,”Isaidonapantedbreath.
Helaughedandswungmeawayfromthedoor,keepingaholdofme.“Nottonight,angel.
RightnowIdon’thavepatienceforacrobats.Justneedyou.Inmybed.Naked.”
“Amanofsimpletaste.”
Heshotmeadrylook.“Smartass.”
Icontinuedtoteasehimashecarriedmedownthehallwaytowardhisroom,byoutlining
allthe“simple”thingshe’ddonetometonight,butwhenhesetmedownonmyfeet
inthedoorway,Iwentstone-coldsilent.
Hewatchedme,expressionalittletentative,asItookinwhatlaybeforeme.When
Ididn’tsayanything,hetuckedhishandsinhispockets.“Iwasworrieditwouldn’t
fit,butitendedupworkingoutokay.”
Iturnedtohim,takinginhistwitchingjawandthefactthathewouldn’tlookat
me.WasheactuallyworriedIwouldn’tlikeit?Ishookmyhead,awedathowthis
mancontinuedtosurpriseme.OnesecondIthoughtIhadhimfiguredoutandthenext,
hewasdoingthingslikethis.“Youboughtanewbed?”
“Andmattress,comforter,andpillows.”
Forsomereason,Ihadtheridiculousurgetocry.“Why?”
Helookedatmethenandshrugged.“Becauseitbotheredyou,angel.”
Isteppedforwardandslidmyhandsaroundhiswaist,pressingmyheadtohischest.
ThemanhadcompletelyguttedhisroombecauseIhadsomeirrationalhang-up,and
Icouldn’teventellhimaboutmyfamilyearliertonight.“Idon’tevenknowwhat
tosay.It’stoomuch.”
Hekissedthetopofmyhead.“Well,I’minto‘toomuch,’especiallywhenitmakes
yougetthatlookonyourface.”
Iliftedmyfacetohim,meetingthoseintensebluesofhis.Somethingdeepandscary
stirredinmychest.“Thankyou.Truly.”
“Mypleasure,”hesaid,circlinghisarmsaroundme.“Nowstripandgokneelonthat
shiny,newbed.It’stimetosullyitsvirtue.”
Ilaughed.“Seemstobealotofthatgoingaround.”
“HaveIsulliedyou,Ms.Medina?”heasked,hishandsslidingdowntocupmyassbeneath
mydress.
“Obviouslynotenoughtonight.”
Hepinchedthebackofmythigh,andIyelped.“Getonthebed,woman.”
“Yes,sir.”Isteppedbackandshimmiedoutofmydressandunderwear,thenclimbed
ontothenewfour-posterbed,thefluffywhitecomfortersinkingbeneathme.Itucked
mylegsbeneathmeandputmyhandsinmylap,tryingtoemulatethepropersubmissive
kneelI’dlearnedabout.
Fostershruggedoffhisjacketandpulledoffhisshirt,watchingmeintentlythe
wholetime.Thenhewalkedforwardandbracedhisarmsonthetwopostsatthefoot
ofthebed,lookinglikesomewingedgodwhowasabouttoswoopdownandravageme.
“Youlooklikesomesweet,innocentthinginthemiddleofallthatwhitefluff,angel.
Everythingexceptyoureyes.Youreyessaythatyou’vegotaseductressinsidewaiting
tocomeouttoplay.”
Ismiled,feelingshyallofasuddenathishotperusal.“I’mnotsosureaboutthat.”
“Showme,angel.Temptmeintoyourbed.”
—
Cela’seyeswentalittlewideathiscommand,andFosteralmostchuckledathershock.Shetrulyhadnoideahowfuckingseductiveshecould
be.Buthewasabouttogiveherachancetoseeitforherself.
“Whatdoyoumean?”sheasked,browneyesguarded.
“Imean,”hesaid,keepinghimselfthereatthefootofthebed,despitehisbody
demandinghepounceonherrightthisveryminute,“showmewhatI’mmissingifI
don’tcrawlintothisbedwithyou.”
Hecouldseeherthroatworkassheswallowedhard.“I’mnotsureIcan.”
“Youwill,”hesaid,asoftcommand.“Closeyoureyesifithelps.”
Shenodded,andthoughhecouldtellshewasreluctant,shelethereyelidsfallshut.
“Goahead,beautiful.Temptme.”
Tentatively,herhandsslidupfromherknees,alongherbody,untilshewascupping
thosefull,lushbreastsofhers,thenipplesdarkeningwitharousalassheranher
thumbsoverthem.Shetiltedherheadbackwithagentlesighofcontentment,her
darkhairsweepingalongthetopcurveofherass.
Hisgriptightenedonthepostsashiscockpressedagainsttheflyofhisdresspants.
“That’sright,angel.Showmewhatkindofpleasureyoulike.”
Helovedhowclosetothesurfacehersensualitywasbecoming,howherfledglingsexual
confidencewasbloomingandstretchingtowardthelight.Towardhim.He’dneverseen
anythingmoreerotic.
Apparentlybuoyedbyhisencouragement,shepartedherkneesabit,exposingthat
prettypussyofherstofulleffect.Sweetpinklipsglisteningandflushwitharousal.
Thesightnearlyhadhisrestraintdissolving.He’dleftherpantiesonattherestaurant,
sohehadn’thadthepleasureofseeingjusthowturnedonshewasuntilnow.But
he’dfelthowwetshe’dbeenandknewthatshe’dfeellikeheavenaroundhim.
Oneofherhandsdrifteddownfromherbreastandpartedherfolds,herpalepainted
fingernailsslidingtentativelyalongtheswollenbudhe’dteasedwiththecroptonight.
Thesightwassosweetlyeroticthathehadtoreachdownandunfastenhisbeltand
pantstofreehimselfbeforehesufferedpermanentzippermarksonhiscock.Herfingers
teasedatherentrance,andshehummedamoaninthequietofthebedroom.Hishand
grippedhiscock,givingitalongstrokeashewatchedherfingersdisappearinside
herself.
“Lookatme,”hesaidhoarsely.Shehesitatedforhalfabreath,thenliftedherhead
andopenedhereyes.Herpupilswerealmostfullblackwitharousal,butherteeth
bitatherlip,herinsecurityreturningnowthatshehadtofacehim.Hereached
outandgrabbedherchin.“YouarethemostbeautifulcreatureI’veeverseen.See
whatyoudotome.”
Sheglanceddown,probablynotevenrealizinghowhernaturaldemurenessstokedhis
fireevenfurther.Shelickedherlipsasshetookinthesightofhiscockinhis
hand.Fuck.Thelastvestigeofhisowncontrolsnapped,andheshuckedoffhispantstoclimb
ontothebedoverher.“Handsandknees,angel.”
Shescootedbackwardandturnedover.Thefaintredmarksstillonherbackfromthe
cropmadehimgroanaloud.He’dbeensofuckinghotforherwatchinghertakethe
blowsinthemiddleofthatgarden.It’dtakeneveryounceofhisstrengthnotto
backoutonherpunishment.Butheknewthepatiencewouldbeworthit.He’dearned
hertrust,andnowshe’dgiveherselfovertohimfreely.Insteadofwonderingand
worrying,theycouldsinkintothemomentandrelisheverybitofthereward.
Heglidedhishandsalongherhips,enjoyingthewayshetrembledeversoslightly
underhistouch.He’dnevertakenherinthisposition.Noonehadevertakenherinthisposition.Therealizationgavehimsomeperversecaveman
pleasure.He’dneverbeenonetogethunguponawoman’s“virtue.”Infact,hetypically
enjoyedwomenwhotookchargeoftheirownpleasureandweren’tafraidtoseekout
whattheydesired.Butdamnifhehadn’tdevelopedsomeprimalappreciationinknowing
thatanythinghedidwithCela,hewasthefirstone.Itwaslikesomeunexpected
gift.Anymarkonher,anyplaceexplored,wasallhis.
Heleanedoverandkissedalongherspine.“Didyouconsidermyrequestaboutcondoms,
angel?”
He’dsentherhismedicalreportthisweekend,leavingthingsuptoher.Hedidn’t
wanttopushherontheissue—especiallynow,knowinghersisterhadgottenpregnant
asateen.Thatcouldstrikefearintheheartofanywoman.Buthecouldn’thelp
butask,thethoughtofbeinginsideherbarewastoodecadenttocontemplate.
Shelookedoverhershoulderathim.“I’monthepill.And…Iwanttofeelyou.
Skintoskin.”
ThankGod.Hemovedhishandsalongthefrontofherthighs,workingtobegentle,
knowingherskinwastenderfromearlier,thenpositionedhimselfatherentrance.
Herheatteasedatthealreadyslickheadofhiscock,beckoninghim.Tiltingback
abittofullyenjoytheview,hepushedintoher,watchinghislengthdisappearinside
hercleft.
Ah,God.Nowitwashisturntoshudderasherwarmthandwetnessenvelopedhimwhole,
makinghimmomentarilyunawareofanythingbuttheexquisitefeeloftheirjoining.
Hisfingersdugintoherhips.He’donlyevergonebarewithoneotherwoman,and
hecouldn’trememberthesensationbeingthisfuckingfantastic.
Shegaspedabitwhenhesettleddeepinsideher,andherealizedquicklythathe
wasalreadygrippinghertoohard.Heloosenedhishold.“Sorry,angel.”
“Pleasedon’tstop,”shesaid,breathlessly.
Hechuckledsoftly,thenrockedintoheragain,earninganothersweetsoundfromher.
“Nochanceofthat.”
Sheloweredtoherelbows,cheekpressedintothecomforter,andhecouldfeelher
bodysurrender.Anythinghewanted,hecouldhave—everythingfromherposturetothe
raptlookonherfacesaidit.Therealityofthatwaslikeaheadydrugdumpedinto
hisblood.Shemaybeasmartasssometimes,mayrebelagainstsomeoftherules,but
goddamnifshewasn’tgorgeously,perfectlysubmissivewhenshewasunderhistouch.
Pleasure,pride,andsomethingelsehedidn’twanttolabelatthemomentswelled
highinhischest.
Shewhimperedsoftlybeneathhim,andhebracedhimselfoverherback,wrappinghis
armaroundhertoreachherclit.Shehadtakenherpunishmentwithgracetonight,
andnowhewasgoingtomakedamnedsurehebroughthertoaplacetomakeitall
worthwhile.Assoonashetouchedtheswollenbutton,shearchedherbacklikeacat,
pullinghiscockevendeeperinsideher.Hegroanedalongwithher.
“YouhavepermissiontocomewhenIdo,baby,”hesaid,increasinghistempo,nolonger
contenttogoslowandeasy.Heneededtohearthosefuck-mescreamsofhers.That
sounddidthingstohimhecouldn’tevendescribe—knowingthatshewasoutofher
head,losttoitall—waslikepureadrenalineforhim.Hecontinuedtothrustinside
whilestrokingherclit,theirbodiesgoingslickwithsweatintheefforttoprolong
thepleasure.
Thenhewatchedherfingerscurlintothecomforter,herknucklesgoingwhite.She
shiftedrestlesslybeneathhim,likethebuildupofenergywastoomuchtoholdin
herbody.Heknewshewaspastthepointofreturn.Feelingnopain.Allpleasure.
Allneed.
“Come,myangel”hewhispered.
Thelow,keeningcryontheheelsofhiscommandwaslikebliss-soakedmusic.Hegripped
herhardandfuckedintoherlikeamanpossessed,dyinginthepleasureofherclasping,
clenchingheat.Hersounds.Thescentofherskinandarousal.Itwasalltoomuch.
Rightassheburiedherfaceintheblanketstomuffleanothergrindingmoan,hecame
hard,spillinginsideherandlettingloosehisownshoutofrelease.
Itwastheperfectmoment.
Withtheperfectwoman.
Andforjustthosefewminutes,astheyrolledoverandcurledintoeachother,he
lethimselfimaginethatitwouldn’tbetemporary.Thathe’dfoundthatgirl.
Butheknewhopewasawickedbitch.Onewhohadproventimeandagainthattheminute
youbelievedinsomethingorsomeone,yougotdecimated.
AndevenifCelathoughtshewasn’ttellingherparentsaboutstayingbecauseshe
wasafraidofhowtheywouldreact,heknewthetruth.Shehadn’ttoldbecauseshe
stillwasn’tsureofherdecision.
Shewasn’tsureofhim.
Andthat’swhathadhurthimtonight.
Soheknewthathehadtocherishthesestolenmomentswithher,becauselikeeverything
elsegoodinhislife—therewasalwaysanexpirationdate.
Andeveryinstincthehadsaidtheclockwasticking.THIRTY
ThenextmorningIfoundmyselfinthecompletelyoddpositionofwakingupinFoster???sbedandgettingreadytogointoworkwithhim.
I’drunovertomyplacetoshowerandputonfreshclothes.Butrightafter,Iwas
back,handinhandwithhimasweheadedoutfortheday.
He’dofferedtogivemeatourofhiscompanytoday,andIwaslookingforwardto
seeingit.ButashepulleduptotheStarbucksdrive-thruwindowandhandedmemy
latte,itwasn’tlostonmehowverydomesticthisfelt.Howfastthiswasallhappening.
Itriedtopushawaytheanxietythatcamealongwiththat.Halfofmewasthrilled
athowcomfortableeverythingwas,buttheotherhalf—mypracticalhalf—waswarning
metoslowdownmyassumptions.
HepulledawayfromStarbucksandsethiscoffeeinthecupholder.“Sohaveyouthought
anymoreaboutwhenyou’regoingtotellyourfamily?”
Isippedmydrink,thetoo-hotliquidburningthetipofmytongue.Iwinced—whether
itwasfromthecoffeeorthequestionhe’dasked—Iwasn’tsure.“Iwasthinkingmaybe
it’dbebesttotelltheminperson.”
Helookedoveratme,eyebrowslifted.
“I’msupposedtogohomeformybirthday,notthisweekendbutnext,andIfigured
it’dbemorerespectfultotalktomydadface-to-face.MaybeIcanmakehimunderstand
betterifhecanseehowexcitedIamaboutthisnewjob.”
“Soundslikeabraveroutetotake,”hesaid,nodding.“Andamatureone.”
Iheldmyfingersaroundmycup,hopingthewarmthcouldchaseawaythechillgoing
throughmeatthethoughtoftalkingtomydadface-to-face.“I’vealreadytriedto
tellhimonthephone,anditwasanepicfail.”
“I’msorry.IfIcouldhelpmakeiteasierforyou,Iwould.”
Ileanedoverandpressedakisstohischeek.“Thanks.IjustwishIcouldfast-forward
timeandhaveitbedone.”
“Iknowthefeeling,”hesaid,almosttohimselfmorethanme.
Beforelongwewerepullinginfrontofashinybuildingwiththe4Nlogoonit.Foster
pulledintoareservedspotclosetothefrontandhelpedmeoutofthecar.“Wow,
yougetyourownspotandeverything.Fancy.”
Hesmirked.“Watchthemockingtone,angel.I’mnotopposedtolockingmyofficedoor
andremindingyoutoberespectful.Mydeskistheperfectheighttobendyouover
foraspanking.”
Istuckmytongueoutathimandhereachedup,quickasaflash,andpinchedmytongue
betweenhisthumbandforefinger.
Igasped—orwell,itwould’vebeenagasphadIhadatongueinworkingorder.
“Notverynice.”Hebenthisheadcloseandgavemytonguealittlepinchbeforereleasing
it.
“Sorry,”Iwhispered.
“Sureyouare.”Hesmiledandslidhishandaroundthebackofmynecktoclaimmy
mouthinaheatedkiss.Histonguemassagedminewherehe’dpinched,strokingagainst
itwithsensualhunger.Mybloodwenthotterthanthecoffeeinmyhands,andIwhimpered
intothekiss.Hebrokeawayafteranothersecondandgrabbedoneofmyhands,curling
myfingersaroundtheerectiontentinghispants.“You’reahazardtobringtowork.
You’regettingmehardalready.”Hestrokedmyhandalonghiscock,thenreleased
me.“Quick,askmesomethingdecidedlyunsexysowecanactuallygetoutofthecar
withoutmestabbinganyone.”
Itookabreath,tryingtogetmyownresponsesbackincheck,andglancedatthe
buildingagain.“Whatdoes4Nstandfor?”
Icouldsensehismoodshiftinstantlyinthedipofhisbrow.Hiserectionflagged
almostimmediately.Damn,apparentlyI’dchosenthemostunsexyquestionever.“It
means‘ForNeve.’Nevewasmysister’sname.”
“Oh,”Isaidquietly.
Heblewoutabreathandconjuredupsomeversionofasmile.“Okay,thattotally
worked.Guessit’ssafetoheadinnow.”
“Right.”Webothclimbedoutofthecar,theebullientmoodfrombeforeebbingdrastically.
Oncewemadeourwaytotheentranceofthebuilding,Fosterpulledopentheglass
doorandletmein.Thewomanatthelargeroundeddeskattheforefrontofthemodern
lobbystoodassoonaswewerebothinside.“Goodmorning,Mr.Foster.”
“Goodmorning,Alexis,”hesaid,hissmilepolite.“Niceweekend?”
“Yes,sir.Thankyou.”
Theredheadsmiledwithopencuriosityatme,butFosterdidn’tbothertointroduce
us.HekeptwalkingtowardasetofelevatorsasIletmygazetrailovertheshiny
plaquesthatseemedtolinetheperimeterofthelobby.“Whatareallthesefor?”
HeglancedovertoseewhatIwasreferringto.Heshrugged.“Awards.Thank-yous.”
Thank-youstoatechcompany?Thatseemedodd.
Butwhenwerodetheelevatoruptothetopfloor,IrealizedquicklythatFoster’s
companywasnotyouraveragewidgetbuilder.Alongthemainwallheadingtowardhis
office,therewerephotosofchildrenandtheoccasionaladult.Allwiththeirnames
anddatesandtimesatthebottom.Ipausedatthelastone—aphotoofalittlegirl
withveryfamiliarblueeyes.Itouchedthelettersontheframe.NeveJulietteFoster
Fosterstoppedhisstrideandpausedwithme.
“She’sbeautiful,”Isaid,myhearttwistinginmychestasmyfingersranoverthe
date.Age5—MissingsinceJuly1990
“Yeah,”hesaidsoftly.“Shewas.”
Ididn’tmissthepasttensehe’dused,andIleanedintohim.“Whataretheother
photosfor?Aretheyallmissing,too?”
Heslidahandontomylowerback,standingnexttomeatthewallofphotos.“No,
thoseareourhappystories.4Ncreatesdevicesandappstohelptrackchildren,so
thatiftheydisappear,parentscanhaveatooltofindthem.We’vesavedalotof
kidswithit,andevenafewAlzheimer’spatientswhohavewanderedoff.Theseare
oursuccesses.Thepeoplewhowehelped.”
Ilookedathimthenbackatthesubstantialamountofpictures,eachsmilingface
shiningback.Alive.Homewiththeirfamiliesnow.“MyGod,Foster,that’samazing.
Ihadnoidea…”
Histhumbstrokedthebaseofmyspine.“Weputupthepicturestoreminduswhywe’re
doingthis.Andtogetthroughthetoughdays.Becauseforeveryhappyending,there’s
anotherchildthatdoesn’tcomehomeatnightoranotherwomanwhodisappearswhile
jogging.Peoplearevictimizedeveryday.”
Iturnedtowardhim,myheartfeelinglikeithaddoubledinweightinmychest.“Which
iswhyyoufreakedoutaboutmeopeningmydoor.”
Hereleasedabreath,hisshouldersdipping.“Knowingwhat’soutthereandseeing
itonadailybasismakesmewanttowrapyouupinmyarmsandkeepyounexttome
sothatnothingevilevertouchesyou.That’swhyseeingyouexposedtoanyofit,
likethatassholeGeraldorthatguytakingaphotoofyou,makesmealittlecrazy.”
Ireachedforhishand,saddenedbywhathe’dbeenthroughandwantingtohughim,
butknowingthatprobablywouldn’tbegoodtodoathisjob.Iwastrulyawedatwhat
hedidforaliving.I’dknownhewasstillactivelylookingforhissisterbuthad
noideathathe’ddedicatedhislife’sworktoit.Nowonderhewassoparanoid.If
Ihadtofacethosehorriblestorieseverydayatwork,I’dwanttolockeveryone
down,too.
“I’msorryyou’veseensomanyuglythings,”Isaid,squeezinghishand.
“HowaboutyoucometomyofficesoIcanstareatabeautifuloneinstead?”Heleaned
overandgavemeapeckonthelips.
Ismiled,enjoyinghoweasilyheshowedhisaffection,eveninapublicsituation
likethis.Onthewaytohisoffice,heintroducedmetoafewpeopleandexplained
whattheydid.Everyonewasveryfriendly,butIdidn’tmissthecuriousglances,
raisedeyebrows,andthefainthintofwhisperingafterwewalkedaway.Apparently
Fosterdidn’tbringwomenhewasdatingontoursveryoften.Good.
Whenwereachedhisoffice,hemadequickintroductionsbetweenmeandhisassistant,
Lindy,whoburstintoagrinwhenhecalledmehisgirlfriend.Fostergaveheraquelling
lookandLindytuckedherlipsinward,hereyesstillsmiling.
Fosterusheredmepastherdeskandopenedthedoortohisexpansiveoffice.Before
closingthedoor,hecalledbackoverhisshoulder,“Lindy,holdmycallsforawhile.”
“Yes,sir,”shechirped.“I’monit!”
Icrossedmyarms,cockingmyhead.“Soshegetstocallyousir,too.Iseehowitis.”
Helaughedandpulledmeintohisembrace.“Theyalldo.EvenHerbinaccountspayable.
Jealous?”
“Wildly,”Isaid,tippingmyheadbackandlookingtotheheavens.
“Well,yourpatientsgettobiteandlickyou.SoIhavemyownjealousytodealwith.”
Ileanedbackinhishold,eyeinghim.“Oh,youbite,doyou?”
“Onoccasion.”Hesnappedhisteethtogetherwithagrowl,thenchuckledwhenIyelped
insurprise.“ButI’vehadmyshots,Ipromise.”
“Goodtoknow.”
“Nowcomeon,IhavesomethingIwanttogiveyou.”Hereleasedmeandpulledout
thechairinfrontofhisdeskforme.Isatdown,ashewentaroundhisdeskand
grabbedasmallboxfromhisdrawer.Hecamebackaroundtomysideandperchedon
theedgeofthedesk.
“Now,Foster,”Iteased.“Ithinkit’salittletooearlyforaproposal.Imean,
IknowI’mspectacularinbed,but…”
“Hush,smartass,”hesaid,bumpingmylegwithhisfoot.
“Yes,sir.”
“SoIknowyouheardaboutthesymbolofacollarinyourclassandhowseriousbeing
collaredis.It’slikegettingmarried.”
Inodded,mygazedartingdowntotheboxwithasmallpinchofpanic.Hewasn’tgoing
tocollarme,right?
“We’renotreadyforthatstepyet,butIwantedtogiveyousomethingtomarkour
commitmenttobeingtogetherlikethis.”Heopenedthebox.Insidewasadelicate
silverbraceletwithasmallCelticknotcharmonit.
Ireachedoutandtouchedthelinks.“It’sbeautiful.”
“Wemakethesehere.It’saHomeSafeanklet.”
Ituckedmyhandbackintomylap,lookingupathim.“Whatdoesitdo?”
“Inthecharmisasmalltransmitter.Ifsomeonegoesmissing,itcaneitherbeactivated
bythevictimorremotelyactivatedbywhoeverislookingforthem.Itwillsendout
asignaltohelpfindthem—likearemoteGPS.Thisishowwe’vesavedalotofthose
peopleonthatwalloutthere.”Helifteditfromtheboxandhandedittome.“I
wouldloveforyoutowearit.Asasymbol.Butalsoasanaddedsafetydevice.I’d
feelbetterknowingyouhadone.”
Istaredattheanklet,guardednowandgrowingmoreandmoreuneasybytheminute.
“Ittrackssomeone.Willtrackme.”
“It’snotlike—”
“God,”Isaidonabitterlaugh.“Myfatherwould’vepaidafortuneforthiswhen
Iwasateenager.Insteadofgoingthroughmycellphonerecordsandhavingneighbors
reportinonme,hecould’vejustsatathiscomputerandtrackedmyeverymove.How
convenient!”
Fosterfrowned.“It’snotmeanttobeusedthatway.Itcanonlybeactivatedinemergencies.
Ifit’safalsealarm,thecustomerhastocallinandhaveitreset.Eachonlygets
tworesetsbeforethepersonhastobuyanewone.”
Butmymindwasalreadychasingthelineofthoughtlikeadogracingafteramailman.
AcustomerwouldhavetobuyanewonebutnotFoster.Itwashisproduct,hiscompany.
Hecouldprobablyactivateorresetonewheneverthehellhewanted.“Youreallylack
thatmuchtrustinme?”
“Cela,”hesaidpatiently.“Thisisnotaboutmenottrustingyou.Icareaboutyou
andwantyousafe.Thechancesofanythingeverhappeningareslim,butI’dsleep
betterknowingthatyouhadanaddedlayerofprotection.”
“Oh,”Isaid.“Well,let’smakesureyousleepbetter.Doesn’tmatterifIhavetowearsomedevicelikeI’monhousearrest.
WhatifI’mlateonedayorwanttogosomewhereanddon’ttellyou?Youcouldjust
hitabuttonandpoof!knowallmybusiness?Orbetteryet.Youcouldaddinafeaturelikeadog’sshock
collar.IfIstraytoofar,youcanjustdeliveralittlejolt.”
“Forgetit,”hesaid,pushingupfromthedeskandtossingtheemptyboxontopof
it.“You’reright.Thisisabouttrust.YounottrustingthatI’mdoingthiswith
goodintentionsandnottofuckingstalkyou.I’mnotlikeyourfather.”
“AndI’mnotyoursister,”Iretorted.
“No,you’renot,”hesaid,fullangerrollingoffhimnow.“BecauseI’mactuallytrying
toprotectyou.ThedayNevewastakenIwassupposedtobewatchingherinthefront
yard.Shewasmyresponsibility.Butshe’dbeenannoyingthehelloutofmeallafternoon,wanting
metoplayBarbies.Itoldhertogoplayherstupidbabygamessomewhereelse.So
whileIwasbusyclimbingtreeswithmyfriends,mybabysisterwasgrabbedoffthe
streetbysomemonster.BecauseofmeMyfault.”
Istaredathim,stricken.
“Sofine,bepissedthatIwanttoprotectyou.”
“Foster—”Isaid,stucktearsslowingthewordsinmythroat.“God,that’snotyour
fault,itwasthe—”
“No,itwasmine.Justaskmyparents.”
Thewordsechoedthroughhisbig,modernoffice,pingingthroughmychest.Hisparents.
Theoneswho’dlefthimalone,who’dbailedonhim.NowIknewwhy.Theyblamedtheir
sonforsomethingthatsomesickcriminaldid.Myheartbrokeforhim,rightthere
inhisoffice,littlepiecesfallingtothefloor.
Heletoutalongbreathandsaggedbackontothedesk,hiseyeshaunted.“Ineed
youtoweartheanklet,Cela.”
Iwantedtostayangry,neededtofighttheideaofwhattheankletrepresented,but
Icouldn’tbeartheflat,emptylookonhisface.Iwenttohim,loweringtomyknees
andlayingmyheadinhislap.
Hethreadedhisfingersthroughmyhair,hisvoicegrim.“Idon’tknowhowtocare
forsomeoneandnotworry,angel.”
Iwantedtoreassurehim,totakethatpainoutofhisvoice,butIcouldn’tagree
tosomethinglikethisjusttomakehimfeelbetter.Iliftedmyheadandtookhis
handsinmine,meetinghisgaze.“Iamsosorryforallthatyou’vebeenthrough.
AndIwishIcouldtakethatallawayforyou.Butthisisaskingalot—toomuch.
I’vespentmywholelifeundersomeone’sthumb,andI’mnotsureIcaneverputmyself
inthatkindofpositionagain.”
“Angel…”
“Ineedsometime,Foster,”Isaid,thebleaktruthbleedingthroughme,makingmy
limbsfeelheavy.“Tothinkaboutallthis.We’vemovedfast.Andit’sbeenintense
andfunandwonderful,butI’mbeginningtowonderifI’mcapableofbeingwhatyou
wantandneed.MaybeI’mnotcutoutforthisrole.”
Hisexpressionwentstonyandhestood,rockingmebackfrommykneel.“Ofcourse.”
Ishovedmyselftomyfeet,hisicytonechillingme.“Foster,I—”
Hepickedupthephone,hiswholepostureclosedofftome.“Lindy,pleasecalla
cabforMs.Medina.She’sheadingout.AndgiveBretacall,too,tellhertocome
bytheofficeforachat.MakeuslunchreservationsatthatItalianplaceshelikes.”
Iblinked,iciclesspikingthroughmychest.“Whatareyoudoing?”
“Givingyoutime,space,whatever,”hesaid,hangingupthephoneandsittingdown
behindhisdesk.“Itoldyouinthebeginning,youcouldalwayspulltheescapehatch.
Frankly,youlastedlongerthanexpected.”
Thewordshitmeaswellasifhe’dslappedapalmrightacrossmyface.“Sothat’s
howyou’regoingtohandlethis?”
Heglancedup,gazecool.“What?WouldyoupreferItieyoutothechairanddemand
youbewithme?I’mnotgoingtogetonmykneesandbegforyou,Cela.”
“No,that’smyjob,right?”Ibitback,hottearsburningmylids.
“Apparentlynot,”hesaid,thebittersmirkthefinaldaggerinthisdisasterofa
morning.
Iturnedonmyheel,beforeIdidsomethingstupid—likecryorthrowabluntobject
athisfreakinghead.“Thanksforthetour.”
IcollectedmyselfinthefewstepstothedoorasbestIcouldandstrodeouthis
door,offeringaquickgood-byetoLindyandheadingstraightfortheelevators.As
Irodedowntothelobby,everypartofmewasshaking—withanger,withgrief,and
withutterfrustration.WhenIhadsaidIneededtime,Fosterhadlookedatmelike
he’dalreadyknownitwascoming.LikeI’dbeensomeforgoneconclusionhewaswaiting
out.Ihadn’tbeenbreakingupwithhim.I’donlywantedtobehonest.Buthe’dcut
meoffsoquicklyitwaslikeI’dnevermeantanythingatall.
I’dstayedhereforhim.I’dtakentheriskandputeverythingontheline.
Andthenatthefirstsignofstrife,hehadn’tfoughtforme.Notonebit.
Iwalkedthroughthelobby,onlyhalfhearingthereceptionistinformmethatthe
cabshouldbethereinabouttenminutes.Iplunkedmyselfonabenchnearthefront
windows,wishingIcouldclosemyeyesandteleportbacktomyplace.Hell,maybe
Ishouldteleportallthewaybacktograduationnightandjuststayinsideanddrink
alone.
Unfortunately,noportaltothepastorwrinkleinthespace-timecontinuumappeared
tosavemeasIsatthere.Andofcourse,thecabwaslate.Twentyminutesandthe
receptionistletmeknowthedriverhadgottenaflatandwassendinganothercar
thisway.Ipinnedapolitesmiletomyfacebutgroanedinwardly.Dallaswasn’ta
placetohavealotofcabsrollingaroundanyway,especiallyoutsideofdowntown,
butIcould’vewalkedhomefasterthanthis.Ishould’vejustcalledBailey.
Acarpulledupafewminuteslater,drawingmygazeupward,butitwasn’tataxi.
TheshinyblackJaguarpulledintoanemptyspot,andatallblondesteppedout.She
seemedtomovewithutterconfidenceasherknee-highbootsclickedpurposelyover
thepavement.Therunway-stylewalkcaughttheattentionofaguyheadingouttothe
parkinglot,andhedidafullone-eightyturntowatchheraftershepassedhim.
Icouldn’thelpbutwatch,dreadsinkingandsettlinginmystomach.Thewomanperched
hersunglassesatopherhead,revealingkohl-linedblueeyesthatappearedtobeevaluating
everythingintheirpath,andsteppedinsidethemaindoors.Theairseemedtopart
forherasshemadeherwaytothefrontdesk—likeevenoxygenwastakenabackby
herpresence.
“Goodmorning,Ms.Avery,”thereceptionistsaid,asifsheinteractedwiththewoman
allthetime.“Lovethathandbag.”
Thewomanreturnedthegreetingwithwarmth,thencockedherheadtowardtheelevators.
“IsIanready?IknowI’malittleearly.”
Ian.
Iwantedtovomitrightthereontheshinymarbletiles.Thiswasthewomanhewas
goingtohavelunchwith,andshecalledhimIan.Aname,whichbyhisownadmission,
wasonlyusedatoneplaceandforonepurpose.
Iturnedaway,closingmyeyes.Partofmewantedtobelievehewouldn’tbethatcruel,
thatvindictive.ButasthefootstepsofMs.BlondeandGorgeousdisappearedinto
theelevator,andmycabfinallypulledup,everythingthathadbeenbrightandglowing
insidemetheselastfewweeksshriveledanddied.
Isankintothebackseatofthecab,feelinglikeroadkill.ThelasttimeI’dridden
inataxi,I’dbeensandwichedbetweenFosterandPikeonthewaytoanightofno-strings
fun.Thistime,Iwrappedmyarmsaroundmyself,staredoutthewindow,andsobbed.
THIRTY-ONE
MondaymorningIsatoutsideDr.Pelham’soffice,watchingherthroughtheglassandwaitingforhertofinishaphonecall.I’dspenttherest
oftheweekendafterthefightwithFosterholedupinmyapartment,watchingmovies
withBaileyanddoingachef’stourofthejunkfoodaisleatthegrocerystore.It
waspathetic.I’dneverfeltsodamnshitty.Itwaslikehavingthefluwithoutthe
chestcongestionandfever.
ButBaileyhadinformedmethatIhadeveryrighttobemiserableandmopeyfora
fewdays.Accordingtoher,itwasbreakuplaw.However,she’dalsolaiddownthe
edictthatbytoday,Ihadtogetmyshittogetherbecauseitwouldbethefirstday
ofmynewbeginning.Newjob.Newme.And,hopefully,inafewweeks,newapartment.
BecauseGodknowsIcouldn’tlivenextdoortoFosteranymore.
Ihadn’tseenhimsincethedayat4N.Andthere’dbeennosoundfromhissideof
thewall.Soeitherhewasoutoftownorhewassleepingsomewhereelse.Probably
withblondamazonswhoworefuck-meboots.Mystomachrolled.Iforcedmyselftosip
mycoffee,eventhoughittastedasbitterasmymood.
Dr.Pelhamseemedtosighasshehungupthephoneandfrownlinesframedhermouth.
Sheglancedovertowardtheglass,meetingmygaze,thenwavedmein.Igotoutof
mychair,takingadeepbreathtoputonmyprofessionalface,andwentinside.
“Hithere,Cela,”shesaid,shiftingsomepapersaroundonherdesk.
“Hi,Dr.Pelham,didyouenjoyyourcruise?”
Shesmiled,thoughitseemedabittight.“Itwaslovely.Thankyou.”
“Well,Iknowyou’rebusy,butIjustwantedtotalkaboutthepos—”
“Igotyouremail,”shesaid,cuttingmeshortandpressingherpalmstothepapers
onherdesk.“AndI’vebeenonthephoneforthelasthalfhourwithDr.Foreman.”
“Okay,”Isaid,alittleunsureofwhatDr.Foremanhadtodowithanything.
“Whenyoudidn’ttakethejobbeforeIleftformycruise,IgaveDr.Foremanthe
go-aheadtohirefromtheothercandidates.”
Istaredather,mythoughtsgoingblank.“What?”
“Hon,lastIhadtalkedtoyou,youwereplanningtogohome.Andthepositionneeded
tobefilled.IfIhadknownyouweretrulyconsideringit…”Sheshookherhead,
thenpulledherreadingglassesoffandrubbedthebridgeofhernose,clearlydistressed
byallofit.“There’snooneIwantedmoreonmyteamthanyou.You’vebeenastellar
intern.Butanotherofferhasalreadybeenextendedandaccepted.Ican’tundoit.”
“Anotheroffer,”Irepeated,thewordsfallingfrommylipslikeheavystones.
“I’msosorry,Cela,”shesaid.“Iwillabsolutelywriteanyrecommendationsyouneed
toapplyotherplacesifyouplantostayintown.IknowthatDr.Murphyoverat
BanksStreetEmergencyneedsa—”
“Right.”IstoodsoabruptlythatthegustIcausedsentpapersflutteringoffher
desk.“It’sfine.Ishould’ve…it’smyfault…Ijustdidn’t…”
“Cela,”shesaid,standing,too,worryonherface.
Ipastedonsomesmilethatseemedtobelongtosomeoneelse.“It’sokay.Thankyou,
Dr.Pelham.Forofferingrecommendationsandforallthatyou’vetaughtme.I’lllet
youknow.Ijust…Ineedtotakecareofsomethingsfirst.”
Shemayhavesaidsomethingelse,butIwasalreadycruisingoutthedooronautomaton
legs.Ididn’tstop,didn’tgobythefrontdesktoseeBailey.Ijustkeptwalking,
straighttomycar.BythetimeIsteppedintothelobbyofmybuilding,I’dgone
fullnumb,mythoughtslockedinsomesuspendedstate.Iwasunemployed.
Ihadnojob.
IhadnoFoster.
Ihadnothinghere.
Atthetopofthestairs,Ididn’tevenseePikecomingoutofhisapartmentuntil
Inearlybumpedrightintohim.“Whoathere,doc.”
Iglancedup,mumbleda“Sorry.”
“Hey,”hesaid,puttinghishandonmyarmwhenItriedtowalkpasthim.“Youokay?”
“Fine,”Imutteredandtriedtomoveforwardagain,buthishandstayedonme.
“Look,doc,IknowFosterisbeinganasshole.Believeme.Butdon’tgiveuponhim
yet.Ithinkyoutwo—”
“Myjobfellthrough,”Isaidflatly.“Thisisn’taboutFoster.Canyoupleaselet
megonow?”
Immediately,hishandliftedfromme.IfeltbadbeingabitchtoPike.Hehadn’t
doneanythingtome,butIcouldn’thandletalkingtoanyonerightnow,especially
aboutFoster.“ButIthoughtyouhadthatjoblockedup.”
“Yeah,well,notsomuch,apparently.”
Heranahandoverthebackofhisneck.“Isthereanotherposition?”
“Yeah,”Isaidwithabittersmile.“Backhome.”
“Oh,doc,youdon’tneedtodothat.I’msurethereare—”
“Ihavenojob,Pike.Nojobmeansnomoney,norent,noanything.Ihaveaposition
waitingformeathome,ahouse,andmyfamily.It’swhereIshould’vegoneinthe
firstplace.”
“ButwhataboutFoster?”
“Whatabouthim?Ihaven’tseenhimindays.”
Pikestuckhishandsinhispockets.“He’soutoftown.”
“WithBret?”Iasked.
Pike’sbrowswentup.“HetoldyouaboutBret?”
“No,butyoujustdid.”MythroattighteneduntilIcouldbarelydrawbreath.Istalked
pasthimandintomyapartment,slammingthedoorbehindme
Screw.It.All.
Igrabbedmycellphoneandtossedmypurseontothekitchencounter.Heanswered
onthesecondring.
“Papá,it’sme.Everything’swrappeduphere.I’mcominghome.”
“Well,it’sabouttime,mija.”
Yeah.Itwas.PARTVII
NOTUNTILYOUBELIEVE
THIRTY-TWO
Fostershovedopenthedoortohisapartment,feelinglikehe’dbeenputthroughameatgrinder,thenstuckbacktogetheragain.Theweariness
ofdaysontheroadandthescentofairportbarsclungtohimlikesomeunwanted
travelingcompanion.Hetossedhiskeysonthecounterandgrabbedabeeroutofthe
fridge.
Pikestrolledintothekitchen,pullingawornToadiesconcertT-shirtdownoverhis
head.“Heh,well,lookwhoitfuckingis.Hereturns.AllhailtheKingofDouchebaggery.”
FostershotPikeamurderouslook.“Fuckoff,Pike.I’mnotinthemood.”
“Ohyou’renot?”heaskedwithasneer.“Well,youknowwhatI’mnotinthemoodfor?
Mygoddamnfriendwhodisappearsandthendoesn’tanswerhisfuckingphoneforaweek.”
“ItoldyouI’dbeoutoftown.Iwantedtobealone.”
“OrwithBret.”
Hescowled.“Sheonlyhungaroundforthefirstpartofit.Wehadsomebusinessto
handle.”
“Yeah,Ibet.”
Fostertippedbackhisbeer,temptedtothrowitjusttoheartheglassbreak.
“Itwasn’tlikethat.”Thoughitalmosthadbeen.HeandBrethadbeenfriendsfor
alongtimeandhadfooledaroundoffandonthroughtheyearsanytimeoneofthem
gotalittletoodrunkoralittletoolonely.Theyweren’tsuited—bothtoodominant
fortheother—butanangryfuckbetweentwocontrolfreakscouldworkoutalotof
rage.Andithadbeeninthebackofhismindwhenhe’dcalledherinforalast-minute
businesstrip.He’dneededsomething—anything—tonumbthepainhe’dfeltwhenCela
hadsaidshecouldn’tbesubmissive.
ButwhenitcamedowntoactingonanythingwithBret,hehadn’tbeenabletodrum
upaniotaofinterest.He’dendedupsittinginabarwithherandgettingshit-faced
drunkwhilehetoldherallaboutCela.Fuckingridiculous.
Pikesniffed.“Itwasn’tlikethat,huh?SoyoujustparadedherinfrontofCela
tobeacompleteasshole.”
“Cela?Shedoesn’tknowBret.”
“Sheknowsyouwereoutoftownwithher.”
“What?”
Pike’sjawflexed.“Andifyouhadansweredyourgoddamnphone,Icould’vetoldyou
that.”
“Fuck.”Herakedhishandthroughhishair,hisheadboominglikeabassdrumbeneath
hisfingertips.“I’lltalktoher.Apologize.Ihavealistofdickmovestomake
upforatthispoint.”
“Yeah,well,goodlucktalkingtoher,buddy,”Pikesaid,leaningbackagainstthe
edgeofthecounterandcrossinghisarms.“Sheleftafewdaysago.”
“What?”Hestareddownathisbeer,tryingtoprocessthatinformation.“Oh,right,
herbirthdaytrip.She’dmentionedthattome.I’lltalktoherwhenshecomesback.
It’llgiveusbothtimetogetourheadstogether.”
Pikeshookhisheadslowly,hisexpressionmakingthehairsprickleonthebackof
Foster’sneck.“No,man.That’snotwhatImean.Sheleft.Likeforgood.Herjobfellthrough.”
EveryounceofalcoholFosterhadconsumedinthelastweekseemedtoburnapath
uphisthroat,singeinghisinsidesandthreateningtocomeout.“Shemovedhome?”
Pikesighed.“Therewasnooneheretoconvinceherotherwise.”
Fostersaggedagainstthecounter,hisbeerforgotteninhishand.CelawasgoneGone
“Whathappenedbetweenyoutwo,man?”Pikeasked,nosarcasmleftinhisvoice.“One
minuteyou’rebuyingherabed,thenextshecan’tgetoutoftownfastenough.”
Herubbedfingersoverhisbrowbone,massagingthespotwhereallthepressurewas
building.“IaskedhertowearaHomeSafeanklet.”
“Ah,fuck,Foster,”Pikesaidwithagroan.“Justwhateverygirlwants—apieceof
jewelryherboyfriendcanstalkherwith.”
“YouknowIwouldn’tuseitlikethat,”hebitback,buthecouldn’tmustermuchfire
behindit.Suddenly,hewastired,soveryexhaustedbyitall.“Ijustwantedher
tobesafe.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Butifit’djustbeenthat,I’msurewewould’veworkedpastit.Itwasmorethan
theanklet.Shetoldmesheneededtime,thatshewasn’tsureshecouldbesubmissive.
Itallstartedspillingoutlikeit’dbeenbottledupthewholetime,likeshewas
justwaitingfortheopportunitytobail.ItwasDarcyalloveragain.”
“LikeDarcy?Fuck.That.Celaisnothinglikethatgirl.Darcywantedarichhusband
whowouldindulgeherwithapamperedprincesslife.Shewasneverreallysubmissive.
Andwhenshefiguredoutthatyouweren’tgoingtomagicallymorphintosomeStepford
husbandshecouldcontrolwithapout,shecutbait.”
“CelaprobablywishesI’dmorphintosomethingdifferent,too,”hesaid,themuscle
inhisjawtwitching.
“No,sheknewwhoyouwerewhenshestayedinthefirstplace.Butsheprobablybackpedaled
becauseyoufreakedherthehellout,”Pikesaid,makingitsoundlikethemostobvious
truthintheworld.“Isawthatgirlthefirstnightwithyou.AndIheardwhathappened
thenightyoucuffedhertothedoor.Celaisnotafraidofgivingyoucontrol.Butsheisindependent,andifyoutrytolockherdownandtreatherlikeakid,she’sgoing
tofeelsmothered.Forfuck’ssake,youaskedhertowearahomingdevice.Youdon’t
LoJackyourgirlfriendlikeshe’syournewestMercedes.”
“It’snota—goddammit,Pike.”Fosterdidtossthebeerthistime,butmanagedtohit
thetrash.Hisheadhurt,hischesthurt,andnowhefeltlikeanevenbiggerdick
thanbefore.
“Didyouevenmanagetotellthegirlyoulovedherbeforeyoulaidthewholetracking
devicethingdownonher?”
“What?”HelookedatPikelikehe’dgrownanextrahead.“OfcourseIdidn’ttell
herthat.We’renotatthatpointyet,Idon’t—”
“Bull.Fucking.Shit,”hesaid,jabbinghisfingerathimwitheachword.“Iknew
youwereanassholebutdon’tbealiar,too.Youhadherapartmentpainted.Youbought
herabed.Youmadeherpancakes.”
Fosterthrewhishandsouttohisside.“Againwiththepancakes.”
“Youdon’tdothatcrapforgirlsyoukindalike.Youdoitfortheonesyouareshit-faced
inlovewith.”
Fostersimplyglaredbackathim.
Pikepushedoffthecounter.“Andforsomeunknownreason,she’sgotitjustasbad.
Imean,shehadthechanceatallthis”—heswepthishanddownandout—“andwentfor
you.Sothequestionis,whatareyougoingtodoaboutit?”
Fosterwantedtopunchsomething,andifhedidn’twalkawaysoon,itmightbePike.
“Nothing.Idon’tchasewomenanymore.Iftheywanttobewithme,theyare.Ifnot,
that’stheirchoice.”
HestalkedpastPike,needinghisdarkbedroomandadreamlessnight.Andanything
butthisconversation.
“Coward,”wasthelastwordheheardbeforeslamminghisdoor.
Afewhourslater,stillwide-awake,Fosterslippedoutofhisroomandintohisroommate’s.
Pikewassoundasleeponhisstomach,allthecoverskickedoff.Makingsurenotto
steponanythingthatwouldalerthim,Fostersteppedaroundthebedandgrabbedwhat
heneededoffthenightstand.
—
Theroomwastooquiet—oppressive.Istaredattheuglypopcornceiling,mentallymakingalistofthethingsIneededtobuytomakethis
roomfeellikehome.Ihadn’tunpackedmuchofanythingyet,andIknewIhadmybedroom
knickknackstuckedawaysomewhere,butIhadtheurgetothrowitalloutandstart
fresh.Ididn’twantanythingtoremindmeofmyapartmentbackinDallas.Notthat
thisplacecouldeverlooklikemyapartment.
The1970sdecormyaunthadneverupdatedwassoawfulitwasalmostbackinstyle.
Greencarpet,fauxwood-paneledwalls,orangecountertopsinthekitchen.Iteven
hadatrashcompactor,forGod’ssake—butnodishwasher.Becauseapparently,turning
trashintoacubewaswaymoreimportantthanhavingsomethingthatwasheddishes.
ButitwasfreeanditwasavailablewhenIhightailedithereafewdaysago,so
hereIlay.Andreally,Ididn’tcareatthispoint.Ijustwantedtokeepmoving
forwardsoIwouldn’thavetothink.I’dkeptmyselfbusywithmovingrelatedthings
forafewdays,andtomorrowwasmyfirstofficialdayattheclinic.AslongasI
didn’tstop,Iwasokay.Mostly.
Butnighttimesucked.Mycableandwirelesshadn’tbeenturnedonyet,soallIhad
wasanempty,quiethouse,somestalesmellIcouldn’tseemtolightenoughcandles
tocover,andmythoughts.Irolledontomyside,determinedtoforcemyselftosleep,
butthedingofmycellphonebrokethroughthesilence.Iflippedbackovertoreach
formyphone,myheartleapingalittlebit,asifithadmusclememoryfromthelast
timeI’dreceivedalate-nighttext.Butofcourse,thiswouldn’tbelikethatone.
Ihitthebuttononmyphone,expectingtoseeatextfromBailey.She’dbeenchecking
onmelikeI’djustgottenoutofrehabandshewasmysponsor.Butthenamestaring
backatmewasdefinitelynotwhatIexpected.
Pike.
Movegook?
Ishiftedfullyonmyside,proppingmyheadupwithmyhandandtypedback.Itwas
sweetofPiketocheckonme,butevenseeinghisnamesentacymbalcrashofsadness
andlongingreverberatingthroughme.Already,itfeltlikeDallasandeverything
I’dleftthereexistedonsomeotherplanetInolongerhadaccesstoanymore.
Survived.
Good.
Urealizeit’salmost1am,right?
Sorry,didIwakeu?(Musicianhours)
No.Mynewplaceistooquiet&possiblyhauntedwiththespiritsofCharlie’sAngels
orTheBradyBunch.
Scary.*Sendsexorcist*
Ismiled,someofthepressurethat’dbeencrushingmeforthelastweekeasingwith
therelaxedbanter.
NotsurethepowerofChristwouldcompelthem.How’sMonty?
Hardheaded&dominant.Likesomeoneelseweknow.
Istaredattheblinkingcursor,asharppaindiggingrightthroughthecenterof
mychestandburrowingdeep.Ididn’twanttotalkaboutFoster.Couldn’t.Iwasbarely
keepingmyselftogetherasitwas.ButbeforeIcouldthinkofhowtorespond,my
phonedingedagain.
Hecamehome.Nothinghappenedw/Bret.
Irolledontomyback,findingitachallengetodrawinafullbreath—theelephant-sized
weightofeverythingpressingdownonmeagain.
Noneofmybusiness.
Ifurnothappythere,ushouldcomeback.
Myjobishere.
Evenifmyheartwasn’t.
Uknowhewouldcoveruwhileulookedforanotherjob.Evenifuaren’ttogether.
He’dtakecareofu.
IletthephonesitagainstmychestasIstaredupagain,thefleckedceilingblurring
withfreshtears.Ofcoursehewould.Andthatwaspartoftheproblem.Ittookme
afullminutebeforeIcouldevenattemptaresponse.Iliftedthephone.
Idon’tneedtobetakencareof.
IjustneededFoster.Notasabodyguardoraparentoramaster.Justhim.
ButbeingwithFostermeantbeingwithhisdominance—allpartsofit—andifIdidn’t
thinkIcouldlivethatwaylongterm,itwasn’tfairforeitherofustodragit
out.
I’mhappyhere.
Lie.
ThistimeitwasPikewhotookawhiletorespond.Ishiftedbacktomyside,wondering
ifhewasgoingtosayanythingelsewhenthefinaltextcame
I’mgladurhappy.Udeservetobe.Goodluckw/everything.
Therewasnothingelsetosaybacktothatexceptthanksandgood-night.Continuing
tolietohimwouldonlymaketheyawningcrackinmyheartspreadwider.
“Yep,that’sme,”Isaidaloudtomyemptyhouse,myvoicehoarsewithtears.“So
freakinghappy.”
Itossedmyphoneontothenightstand,curleduparoundmypillow,andtriedtopretend
itdidn’thurtsobad.
THIRTY-THREE
ONEMONTHLATER
“Marcela!”Myfather’svoiceboomedfromtheotherroom,echoingthroughthehall.
“Coming.”IsighedheavilyasIscrubbedmyhands.Iwassonotinthemoodforthat
tone.I’dalreadyhadtwoemergenciesthismorning,plushadbeenfacedwithadevastated
familywhenI’dhadtoputdowntheirbelovedfifteen-year-oldtabby.Theonlything
IwantedrightnowwastotakealunchbreakandgetaMexiCokefromthestorenext
doortodrownawaymystresswithcanesugar.
ButIdutifullyheadedtomyfather’soffice.Ileanedagainstthedoorjamb.“Yes,
Papá?”
“Whatisthiscrap?”heaskedwithascowl.“ItoldyouwhattoorderfortheWhitcombs’
Rottweiler.”
Inoddedatthelittletubeofointmenthewasholdinginhishand.“That’sabetter
treatment.Itworksfasterandhe’llonlyneedafewdosesinsteadoftwoweeksof
applicationstoclearuptherash.”
“Justbecauseit’sthenewest,fanciestcreamdoesn’tmeanit’sbetter,”hesaid,
tossingitontothedesklikeithaddirtiedhisfingers.
“Irealizethat,”Isaid,tryingtokeepmypatience.“Butinthiscase,itisbetter.
Plus,he’smypatientnow.Imakethecall.”
Myfatherlookedup,hisglareholdingwarning.“OrderwhatItoldyoutoorder.I
stillmakethefinalcallinthispractice.AndIdon’tneedmyclientsspendingmore
justtogetabrandnamewhensomethingelseworks.”
Inthepast,thatquellinglookalonewould’vesentmecowering.ButthemoreIworked
withhim,themoreIwasrealizinghowmuchofabullyhecouldbe.Andwhenwewere
here,Iwassupposedtobehisco-workerfirst,daughtersecond.Nottheotherway
around.Icrossedmyarmsovermychest.“Wouldyoubarkanorderlikethatatme
ifIweresomeotherdoctoryouhired?”
Onebushyeyebrowlifted.“Yes,Marcela,Iwould.IamtrainingyouhowIwantthis
practicetobehandled.OurclientsexpectacertainkindofserviceandwhenIretire,
Iwanttoinsurethatwecontinuetodothat.AndIappreciatethatyoulearnedsome
differenttechniquesinschool,butyouneedtorememberwhohasthedecadesofexperience
here.”
LikeIcouldeverforget.“Yes,Dr.Medina.”
Hefrowned.“Don’tbesmart,Marcela.”
“Sorry.I’vebeentoldIhaveaproblemwiththat,”Isaid,rememberingtheplayful
wayFosterusedtocallmesmartassandtheamusedglintthatwouldlighthiseyes
whenI’dsparwithhim.Iturnedonmyheel,tryingtotampdownthesurgeofloss
thatgreetedmeoverthememory.
Two,mymindsilentlymadethehashmark.
Iwasgettingbetter.Alreadylunchtime,anditwasonlythesecondtimehe’dcrossed
mymindtoday.
Igrabbedmypurseandheadedoutoftheclinictogetsomefreshairandfood.There
wasn’tmuchtodoinVerdePassforlunch,andIknewmymomwouldprobablyhavesomething
cookingsincemydadwenthomedailyforlunch.ButaMexicanCokeandachickensalad
sandwichfromtheshopnextdoorsoundedwaybetterthanlisteningtomymotherwax
onaboutso-and-so’ssonandhowIshouldmakeapointtogettoknowhimbetter.
IsteppedinsidetheSip’NShop,thelittlebellannouncingmyarrival,andgave
aquickwavetoJ.C.,whocoveredtheshopforhisdadduringtheday.Iboughtwhat
Ineeded,thentookitoutsidetooneofthepicnicbenches.Thetemperaturewasin
thetripledigitsagaintoday,butIcouldn’tbeartobeinsidemuchlonger.Plus,
theshadetreesarchingoverthetablesandthefaintbreezeprovidedasliverof
relief.
Andapparently,Iwasn’ttheonlyonewho’dhadthisplanforlunchtoday.Before
Ifinishedunwrappingmysandwich,ashadowcrossedoverthetable.Iglancedupand
smiled.“Fancymeetingyouhere.”
MichaelRuiz,nowDr.Ruizthedentist,slidontotheothersideofthepicnictable.
“Well,I’veheardthisisthehottestspotintown.”
ItookasipofmyCoke,thebottlesweatingagainstmypalm.“Itdefinitelyishot.”
Michaelpulledabottleofwaterfromhisbag.Whenwe’ddatedinhighschool,he’d
hadaMountainDewaddiction,butapparentlydentalschoolhadscaredhimoffthe
hardstuff.“Hey,I’dbewillingtotakeyoutosomeplacefancier,youknow,with
airconditioningandstuff,ifyou’deverletme.I’veheardtheSubwayhasanexcellent
charcuterieplatter.”
IsmirkedasIpeeledthecrustoffmysandwich.Michaelaskedmeoutprettymuch
dailythesedays.I’dtoldhimIwascomingoffabreakupandwasn’treadytostart
datingagain,whichhe’drespected.Buthehadn’tstoppedjoiningmeforlunchto
keepmecompany.Iappreciatedthathewasn’tputtingpressureonmeaboutit,just
beingafriendtomewhenIreallyneededone.ButIknewthathewouldpreferit
wasmorethanthat.
Baileyhadtoldmetogivetheguyabreak—well,afterI’dtoldherhewasadoctor
andhadsentheraphotoofhimsoshecouldverifyhewasofacceptablehotness.
Shewasofthe“getbackonthehorse”mind-set,butthethoughtofgoingoutwith
anyoneheldaboutasmuchappealaswatchingaCSImarathonwithmydad—which,incidentally,waswhatI’ddonelastweekend.
“I’llkeepthatinmind,”Isaid,hopingitcameacrosslightandnotlikeajab.
Hepulledthebutcherpaperfromaroundhissandwich,buthisdarkeyesstayedon
me.“Wantmetostopasking?”
Isighed,elbowsonthetable,sandwichinhand.Michaelhadalwaysbeensweetto
me.Whenwe’ddated,we’dnevergottentooserious,butI’dalwaysknownhewasan
inherentlygoodguy.He’dbethetypetotakeitslow,tobepolitenomatterwhat,
andtoyieldtomypreferencesonwheretogoandwhattodo.Hewaseverythingon
paperI’dalwaysthoughtIwanted—good-looking,hardworking,andaguymyparents
wouldbehappytoseemewith.
Hewasanobviouschoice,andIalreadyknewwegotalongandthatI’dhavefunwith
him.I’dsaidnooverandoveragainintendifferentsubtleandpoliteways.But
asIpeeredathimthereacrossthetable,Istartedtoquestionmyreasons.Thestuff
thathadbeenholdingmebackwasbeginningtolookmoreandmoreridiculous—silly,
romanticnotionsthatbelongedinmovies,notreallife.
MaybeIdidn’tneedthatthing.WhateverthatthingwasthatIusedtofeelwhenIlookedatFoster.Intheend,
thatintensityhadonlyledmestraighttoaheartbreakingdeadendanyway.
Timetochangegears.Reboot.Getwithreality.
IreachedoutandputmyhandoverMike’s.“Don’tstopasking.”
Hismouthcurved.“I’mgoodatbeingpatient.”
“Thanks,Mike.”
—
Laterthatnight,asIsatonmylivingroomfloorunpackingboxesandeatingamicrowavedpotpie,Iwasstillruminatingovermyconversation
withMikewhenIcameacrossalittlesilverpieceofjewelrythatI’dtossedinto
oneoftheboxes.Ipulledtheankletoutofthepileofstuff,thesoundoftheBigBangTheoryrerunontheTVfadingintothebackground,asIhelditalongmypalm.Suchasmall
thing—alittlelengthofsilver.Butit’dbeenthelynchpinthathadblowneverything
upbetweenmeandFoster.Thatdayintheoffice,I’ddroppeditinmypurseinmy
hastetogetoutofthereassoonaspossible.Butnowitwashere,openingupthe
woundthatIwasworkingsohardtoclose.
He’dwantedtoprotectme.That’swhathehadsaid.Andtomarkmeashis.
Thememorymadetearsknotmythroat.His
I’dbeensoreadytostartsomethingwithhim,soopentothepossibilities,butthat
simplewordhadscaredthehelloutofme.He’dlookedsoserious,sosincere.And
Ihadn’twantedtopromisehimsomethingIwasn’tsureIcouldgive.AndIdefinitely
couldn’timaginewearingsomethingthatcouldbetracked.Visionsofmyteenyears
hadflashedbeforeme—trapped,monitored,ruledover.Itwould’vebeenthewrongmove.
Iwouldn’thavebeenabletohandleitlongterm.Anditwould’vehurtusbothmore
inthelongrun.
Icouldn’tbehissubmissive.Itwasn’tme.
Butthethoughtwrenchedsomethingsidewaysinsideme,makingmepressmyforehead
tomyknees.WhowasIkidding?Ididn’tknowwhoIwas.Ididn’thaveafreaking
clue.Duringtheday,Ifoughtconstantlytomakemyownpathattheclinic,dothings
myownway.I’dstoodupmoreformyselfsincebeingbackhomethanIeverhadin
mylife.Butatnight,whentheplacegotquietandmyminddriftedtomemoriesof
Foster,Icouldn’thelpbutletmyselffallbackintothefantasieswe’dshared,times
whenIhadnocontrolatall.Ireplayedtheminmymindlikesomeaddictneeding
ahit—justonemoretime,onemoretime…Andwhenthatwasn’tenough,I’dcreate
newones,weaveevendirtier,moresordidscenesforustostarin.
Ididn’tknowhowtoreconcilethatgirlwiththeother.HowcouldIbeboth?
Istareddownattheanklet,runningmythumbalongthemetal,whichwasnowwarming
fromtheheatofmyhand.Thelatchwassometypeofscrewdesign,andIfoundmy
fingersslowlyturningit.Theankletfellopen,andwithoutknowingwhy,Ireached
downandfasteneditaroundmyankle.Thesilverpressedagainstmyskin,sliding
overthedelicatebonesthere.Andthesightofit—hismark—lockedaroundmesent
burningtearstomyeyes.
IcouldimagineFosterthere,kneelingdownandloopingthejewelryaroundmyankle,
pleasureinhiseyes.Thewordmineonhislips.Hismouthkissingupalongmycalf,mythigh,hiseyesgoinghotwith
intentashewhisperedallthosedirty,temptingthingshewassogoodatsaying.
Theimagewarmedmefromtheinsideout,makingaflushcreepovermyskin.
Unconsciously,IpushedupfromthefloorandclickedofftheTV.Iloweredmyself
ontothecouch,closingmyeyesandlettingthefantasyrun,sinkingintoit.Foster
alwayshadsuchaslow,deliberatewayofkissingeverypartofme,hismouthleaving
trailsofheatonmyskin.WithoutthinkingtoohardaboutwhatIwasdoing,Ilet
mybodyandtheimagestakeover.Myhandsslidupmystomachbeneathmyshirt,and
Icuppedmybreasts,imaginingitwashisbighandsinsteadofmine.Thefeelwasn’t
quiteright,mytouchtoosoft,toofemininetobehis.SoIpinchedandpluckedat
mynippleslikehewould’ve,makingsuretodoithardenoughtocauseasnapofpain.
Yes,thatwasbetter.Isighedsoftly,openingmyeyesbrieflytoseethesilverglinting
againstmyankle.
Moistureandheatgatheredbetweenmythighs,thesightofjewelrypushingsomelever
insideme.Iletmyeyesdriftshutagainandtrailedmyhanddownmystomach.Foster
likedtoteaseme,tomovehisfingersalongmyfoldsbutnotquitestrokemyclit
yet.Andhistouchwasalwayssosure,likeheknewexactlyhowtobringmeright
totheedgeandholdmethere,hangingbymyfingernails.Iimaginedhimlowering
hisheadbetweenmylegs,myarmstiedaboveme,andthefeelofthatfive-o’clock
stubblemovingagainstthetenderskinofmythighs—theabrasive,scritch-scritchsoundthatmade.
Inmymind’seye,hewastherewithme,callingmeangelandwhisperinglovely,filthy
thingstome.Myfingersmovedinsideme,myhipsrockingagainstthestimulation.
Imoanedinthesilenthouse,losttothefantasyandtothemanwhoI’dnevertouch
again,andcamehard.
Slowly,mybreathreturnedtome,andIblinkedoutofthehazeofthedreamland—my
heartstillpoundingbutmybodycooling.Mylivingroomcamebackintoview.The
boxes.Theuglywalls.Theemptiness.Despairrolledthroughme.
Ipushedmyselfoffthecouchanddraggedmyselfintotheshower,sittingonthefloor
ofthetubandjustlettingthehotwaterpoundagainstme.
Afterward,whenIcaughtaviewofmyselfinthebathroommirror,Ibarelyevenrecognized
thepersonstaringbackatme.I’dchangedoutofscrubsintopajamas,butotherthan
that,Ididn’tlookmuchdifferentthanwhenI’dwokenupthismorning.Nomakeup.
Hairhanginglimparoundmycheeks.Itwasthefaceofagirlwhohadtotallygiven
uponbeingpresentable.
Istaredatmyreflection,myhandsgrippingtheedgeofthecounter.Wasthiswhat
mylifewasgoingtobe?Sittingaroundinmyhalf-unpacked,That’70sShowhouse,fantasizingaboutsomeguywhoIhadn’ttalkedtoinoveramonth?I’dbecome
agoddamncliché.AllthosetimesI’drolledmyeyesatmovieheroineswhoendedup
ontheircouchwithapintofBen&Jerry’s,watchingLifetimenetwork,andnowhere
Iwas.TheonlythingdifferentwasthatI’dchosenHungry-ManpotpieinsteadofBen
&Jerrytonight.Pathetic.
Iflickedthelightoff,gettingridofthatgirlinthemirror,andstrodeintomy
bedroom,grabbingmyphoneoffthecharger.Enoughofthisshit.Iscrolledthrough
thenumbers,lookingfortheoneIneeded,thenhitCall.
“Cela?”
Hewasclearlysurprisedtobehearingfromme.ButbeforeIlostmynerve,Ilet
thequestionfallfrommylips.“Whatareyoudoingtomorrownight?”
“WhydoIhavethefeelingyou’regoingtotellme?”
“I’msayingyes,Michael.”
Icouldhearhissmileoverthephone.“That’sthebestnewsI’veheardallnight.
Pickyouupatseven.”
“I’llbeready.”
Andhopefully,Iwouldbe.THIRTY-FOUR
Sixty-seven,sixty-eight…
Fostercountedinhisheadasheloweredbackdowntothefloorforanotherpush-up.
Sweatsliddownhisneckandbarebackasherepeatedthemotionagainandagain.
Thenumberstickedoffinhisheadashebreathedthroughthecount.AflashofCela
tiedupinthegardencametohim.Fuck.
Seventy-three.
Thatnightshehadcountedaloudforhim,hertawnyskinglisteningwiththeexertion
ofreceivingthestingsofhiscrop.Butshe’dbeencountingdown.Notup.Notlike
hewasdoing.Thishadnothingtodowiththatday.Hiscockstirred.Fuck.Fuck.
Fuck.
Eighty.
Heliftedonefootofftheground,tryingtoincreasethedifficultyofthepush-ups
andblockoutanythoughtsofher.Musicblaredinthebackground,hisnewneighbor
probablyhatinghimalreadyforallthenoise.
Eighty-one.
She’dwantedtocomesobadthatnight,she’dfallentoherkneesandwould’vebegged
himforit,would’vegivenhimthosedoeeyesandpleaded.He’dwantedtobreakhis
plansthatnight.He’dwantedtospreadherrightoutinthatbedofflowersandfuck
heruntileveryoneinsidetherestaurantheardherscream.Hegrittedhisteethas
hiscockwentfromintriguedtofull,throbbinghard-on.
Refusingtorelent,hepushedthroughtohitonehundred.Afterward,herolledonto
hisback,hisstomachrisingandfallingwithexertion,buttheacheinhisdicknot
relenting.Hetuckedhishandsbehindhisheadandwithalockedjaw,startedaround
ofsit-ups.Hewouldnotfuckinggivehimselfthesatisfactionofthinkingabouther
andjerkingoff.Ifhewantedtogetlaid,hecoulddamnwellgofindawillingpartner.
Butheknewitwasanidlenotion.Hewouldn’tdoit.He’dgotteninhiscartodrive
toTheRanchmorethanoncesinceCelahadleft,andhehadn’tbeenabletoputthe
keyintheignition.Hewasinfuckinglove.Love!
Agoddamndisasterconsideringthattheobjectofthoseaffectionswascurrentlyhundreds
ofmilesaway,happilymovingonwithherlife.Shedidn’twantwhathehadtooffer.
Andasmuchashecaredabouther,hecouldn’tgiveherwhatshewasseeking.Ifshe
wantedatraditional,vanillarelationship,hecouldn’tbethatforher.It’dbelike
askingagaymantogostraight.Hisdominancewaspartofhim,andneitherofthem
wouldbehappyifhetriedtoshutthatpartofhimselfoff.
Six.Seven.
Hishairwasdamp,fallinginhiseyesashedidmorecrunches.Inhisdirectline
ofsightwasthebedhe’dboughtforher.Andofcourse,noweverytimehelooked
atit,hesawherthere,kneelingonthewhitecovers,kneesparted,headtiltedback
asshetouchedherselfforhim.
Son.Of.A.Bitch.
Herolledupoffthefloorandstalkedintohisbathroom,turningontheshower.He
grabbedanemptycupandfilleditwithwaterfromthesink,gulpingitdownashe
caughtsightofhimselfinthemirror.Helookedlikeacrazedversionofhimself.
Hisfaceandchestwereshinywithsweat,hischeeksflushed,andhisdickhard.
Hetuggedoffhisshortsandsteppedintotheshower.Thewaterhadn’tfullywarmed
yetandithithisskinwithashock.Buteventhechillwasn’tgoingtovanquish
thedrivingneeddemandinghisattention.Hiserectionwasstillhardassteel.Fuck
it.Hegrabbedthesoapfromtheholderonthewallandslickedhishand.Mightas
wellgetovertheinevitable.Hewaspastthepointofbeingabletowillthethoughts
away.Hebracedanarmagainsttheshowerwallandpressedhisforeheadagainstit.
Hisotherhandgraspedhiscockwitharough,almostangrygrip.He’dneverhadthe
chancetotakeCelaintheshower,andhelethismindgotherenow—waterdripping
overhercurves,thatdarkhaircurlingandclingingtohershoulders,theswells
ofherasstuckedagainsthimasheslidintoherfrombehind.
Hisfistmovedalonghiscock,imaginingherheatandthesweetsoundsshemadewhen
theymadelove.Yes,love.He’dtriedtoconvincehimselfithadbeensomethingelse,
butfromtheverybeginning,it’dbeendifferentwithher.Sweeter.Moreintense.
Moreimportant.
Heangledawayfromthewater,lettingitonlyhithisbackandtightenedhisgrip
ashefistedhisshaft.Thepadofhisthumbmovedoverthehead,swipingatthepre-come
glisteningthere.Ifshewerehere,he’dbringhisthumbtohermouthandwatchher
suckhistastefromhisskin.Shewassuchavixenwhensheletgo,letherinhibitions
fallaway.He’dhopedshe’dbetheone,thegirlhecouldcherishandpamperbutwho
wouldalsocraveplayingontheedgewithhim,theonewhowouldgiveherselfinto
hiskeepingandcare.
Hecouldimaginehergivinghimhellwiththatsmartmouth,thendroppingtoherknees
andbringinghimtohis.Thatsoft,yieldinglookinhereyes,thatgiving,plush
mouth.
Withthatimage,everymuscleinhisbodyseemedtotightenandpleasureraceddown
hisspine.God,Cela.Hotstreamsofhisreleasesplashedagainstthetileandcoatedhisfistashepumped
intohishand,ridingthelastwaveoforgasm.
Afterafewmoreraggedbreaths,herinsed,turningthewatertosearinghot,then
toweledoff.Tooexhaustedtoevenbotherdiggingthroughthebasketofcleanlaundry
forboxers,heheadedtobedandgotinnaked.Ashereachedtoturnoffhislamp,
henoticedthelightonhisphoneindicatingnewemails.“Fuck’em,theycanwait
’tilmorning.”
Butafterheclickedoffthelightandtriedtoclosehiseyes,hecouldn’thelphimself.
Whatwasitaboutnewemailthatwassohardtoignore?Itcouldn’tbeanythinggood.
Justmorework.Buthefoundhimselfreachingforthedamnedphoneanyway.Heunlocked
thescreen,noticingthenewemailwastohispersonalaccount,nothisworkone.
Odd.Herarelyusedthataccount.
Heopenedupthescreen,frowningatthesubjectline.YourHomeSafepurchasehasbeenactivated.Whatinthehell?Itwasthestandardauto-sendemailcustomersreceivedwhenthey
activatedoneoftheirproducts.Whythehellwouldhebegettingthatinhispersonal…
Hesatup.
Quickly,hetappedtoopenthefullemailandscrolleddown.YourHomeSafeankletwasactivatedat9:34pmCSTinVerdePass,TX.
Hestareddownatthescreen,somethinglikehopegrowinginhischest,snakingthrough
himlikeavine.Celahadkepthisbracelet.Andtheonlywaytoactivatewastoopen
itandcloseit.Hadsheputiton?
Weekshadpassedsinceshe’dleft.He’dtextedherthatfirstnightundertheguise
ofbeingPike,andshe’dmadeitratherclearthatshewasstayingandmovingon.
Whatwouldmakeherpullouthisgiftnow?
Unless…
Unlessshewasthinkingabouthim.
Heflippedthecoversoffandgotoutofbed,headingstraighttowardthelivingroom.
PikewaslaidoutonthecouchplayingsomevideogamewhileMontydozedathisfeet.
HelookedoverwhenFosterstrodein.
“Dude,whatthefuck?”Heputhishandoutasiftoshieldhimself.“You’regoing
totraumatizeMonty.”
Fosterglanceddown,realizinghe’dwalkedoutnaked.Butatthemoment,hecould
giveashit.“Ineedyourhelp.”
Pikesmirked.“Man,I’mflattered,andIknowyou’rehardup,butI’mreallynotinto
youthatway.”
Fosterwishedhehadsomethingtothrowathim.Hegrabbedablanketfromtheback
ofthecouchandtieditaroundhiships.“Wouldyoushutthefuckupandlisten?”
“Allears.”
“Ineedyourcarforafewdays.”
Hepausedhisgame.“Dowhat?”
“Ican’tsitaroundanymore.Ineedtoknowifshe’shappy.Ineedtoknowifthere’s
stillachance.”
Pike’squestioninglookmorphedintoasly,victorioussmile.“’Boutdamntime.But
whatexactlywouldyouneedmycarfor?”
Heshrugged.“I’mnotgoingtobustintoherlifeandshakethingsupifshereally
isdoingwellandishappythere.Idon’twanttocausehermorehurt.SoI’mgoing
todoalittlereconfirstandIneedhernottorecognizemycar.I’dgetarental,
butIwanttoleavefirstthinginthemorning.”
Pikesatupatthat.“Holdup.You’regoingtospyonher?Youreallyarethecrazy,stalkerex-boyfriend.”
“MaybeIam.”
Hegrinned.“Fortherecord,Ikindoflikethiscrazed,in-loveversionofyou.Way
morefun.Justdon’tfuckthingsupthistime.”
“Well,that’snottheplan.”
“Howareyougoingtofindher?Imean,smalltownornot,it’sstillawholetown.”
FosterwalkedovertothecoffeetableandswipedPike’skeys.“Youdon’twantto
know.”
“Ah,hell.”
Fosterheadedbacktowardhisbedroom,butnotbeforeheheardPikemutter,“Yeah,
he’sgoingtofuckitup.”
—
Isatatthesmall,scarredtablesippingmydrinkandenjoyingthebandwhowasplayingattheRustyWheeltonight.I’dneverbeenahugefanof
countrymusic,buttheacousticsethadacertaincharm.AndMichaelseemedtobe
thoroughlyenjoyingit,singingalongtothemusicandsendingmeasmileeverynow
andagainfrombeneaththebrimofthecowboyhathe’dworntonight.Hehadanice
voice.I’dnevernoticedthatabouthim.Itwasprobablyverysoothingtohispatients
whenhewasyankingteethoutandsuch.
ThiswasthethirdtimeI’dbeenoutwithhimthisweek,andeachtimeit’dgotten
moreandmorecomfortable.Hedidn’tmakemystomachflipoverwhenhelookedatme,
buthewasfun.Anditsurewasbetterthanbeingmopeygirlinmyhouse.Whenantidepressant
commercialsstarttolookupbeat,it’stimetogetout.
Michaelleanedover,drapinghisarmoverthebackofmychair,andspokeagainst
myear.“Dancewithme?”
“I’mnotverygoodatthetwo-step,”Isaid,cockingmyheadtowardtheothercouples
outonthefloor.
“Justfollowmylead.Youcandothat,right?”heaskedwithagood-naturedwink.
Ismirked.Oh,ifheonlyknew.“Sure.”
Ilethimtakemyhandandleadmeontothedancefloor.Withasmileofencouragement,
hepulledmeclose,hishandatmyback,andguidedmeintotheflow,countingthe
stepsforme.“Quick,quick,slow.”
Hewasaconfidentdancerandeasytofollow,soIkeptupprettywell.Wemovedaround
thefloor,keepingthecirclepatternthateveryoneseemedtobefollowing,andI
foundmyselfenjoyingit.Quick,quick,slow.Quick,quick,slow.Apparentlyhethought
IwascatchingonquickerthanIactuallywasthough,becausehemovedtotrytospin
me.Notexpectingthechangeup,Imissedthecueandturnedthewrongway,almost
twistinghisarmoutofitssocketintheprocess.Heletgoofmyhandandmymomentum
carriedmeintothenextcouple.
MichaelbarelyrescuedmebeforeItookusalldown.Igrabbedforhisarm,half-panicked,
halflaughing.Hedraggedmeagainsthim,laughingaswell,eyessparkling.“Whoa,
there.”
“Sorry,”Isaid,handsstillcurledintohisbicepsashemovedmeoutoftheflow
ofdancersandofftotheside.“Awkwardgirlplusbeer.Badcombination.”
“Noneedtoapologize.Ilikeawkward.Andsloshedisjustabonus.”
Isnorted.Buthepushedmyhairbehindmyear,lookingdownatmewithasmilethat
wentfromhumortosomethingelse.AndIknewthatlook.Ididn’thaveatonofexperience,
butnoonecouldmistakewhathisintentionwasorwhatwasabouttohappen.Iopened
mymouthtosaysomething,butitwasalreadypastthepointofnoreturn.
Michaelleanedinandpressedhislipstomine,cradlingmyheadinhishands,and
kissingmewithatenderreverenceIdidn’tdeserve.Iwasfrozenforamoment,unsure
whattodoorhowtoreact.Butmymouthmovedonitsownaccord,answeringthekiss,
evenasmymindwasspinningineverydirection.Hetastedlikebeerandpeanutsand
faintlyofmouthwash.Andnoneofwhathewasdoingwasbad,butitwasall…
wrong.
Myhandssliduptohischestandpushedgently.Instantly,heeasedbackfromthe
kiss,respectingmysubtlesignal.Hegavemeasheepishsmile.“Sorry,probablytoo
soon,right?Ilostmyselfthereforamoment.”
“It’sokay,”Isaid,lookingdown,asadnesseatingawayatmyinsides.“I’mjust…
notquitereadyforthatyet.”
Ormaybeever.Notifitfeltlikethat.MaybeIhadn’tbeenoverreactingwhenIthought
I’dneverexperienceanythinglikeFosteragain.Icravedthefirethathappenedevery
timewe’dtouched,thatmust-have-morepassion.MaybeitcouldgrowwithMichael.
MaybeIneededtogiveittime,giveusbothachance.
“Hey,there’snorushorpressurefromme,allright?”hesaid,takingmyhandagain.
“I’mnotonsomepredeterminedtimeline.”
“Thankyou.”Heledmebacktoourtableandorderedanotherroundofdrinks,but
myheartwasn’tinthemusicanymore.Orthedate.Afterafewminutes,Michaelseemed
tobejustascontentasbefore—notperturbedoroffendedbymybrush-off.Hereally
wasagoodguy.Iglancedatmycellphonetocheckthetimeandmadeashowofyawning.
“Gettingtiredonme?”heasked,bumpingmykneewithhis.
“Yeah,Ihadasurgeryfirstthingthismorningandanothertomorrow.MindifIcall
itanight?”
“Nah,notatall,”hesaid,movingtogetup.
Iputmyhandonhisarm.“You’refine.Stay.Iknowyouhavetomorrowoffandthat
youlovethisband.Mycarisrightoutfront.”
“Yousure?”Hefrowned.“Areyouokaytodrive?”
“Yeah,I’mnotthatmuchofalightweight.”Iofferedasmileandgavehimaquick
hug,thankinghimforthenight.
Outside,thesummerairwasmuggyandwarm,heavywithanoncomingrainstorm.But
itwasnicetogetoutofthesmokyhonky-tonk.Theparkinglotlightswereblinking
onandoffwithaloudbuzz,givingthelotastrobeeffect,butthemoonlightwas
enoughtohelpmefindmycar.
Iputmyhandintomypursetograbmykeysandheardtheshiftofgravelsomewhere
behindme.Iturnedmyhead,onfullalert.VerdePasswasn’texactlythecrimecapital
oftheworld,butIwasn’tstupidenoughtothinkbadthingsdidn’thappenhere.I
didn’tseeanythingbehindme,andIturnedbackaround,rubbingthesuddenchill
offmyarms.IhadthesensethatIwasn’talone,thatIwasbeingwatched.Buta
secondlater,thefrontdooroftheRustyWheelswungopen,andaloud,rowdygroup
spilledout,instantlyliftingthatstrangefeelingI’dgotten.Quickly,Ihitthe
fobtoopenmycarandclimbedinside,thinkinginthebackofmymindhowFoster
would’veneverletmewalkoutintoaparkinglotlikethisalone.
Hewouldn’thaveletmedismisshimsoeasilylikeIhadMichael.Itwasn’tfairfor
metoholdthatagainstMike.Ihadwantedhimtostaybehind,butstill,thethought
niggledatmelikearockinmyshoe.Ididn’tneedtobetakencareof.Iwascompletely
capableofmanagingthingsmyself.ButIcouldn’tdenythatpartofmemissedbeing…
handled.
FosterhadmademefeellikeIwassomethingprecious,somethingtobeguarded.
Partofthetimethathaddrivenmemad.
Butrightnow,asIdrovehomeinthedark,stillwearingthatstupidanklebracelet
becauseIcouldn’tbringmyselftotakeitoff,Ifelt…adrift.
THIRTY-FIVE
FostersatinPike’scarinthedark,notsurewhathewasmorereadytodo,punchsomethingorthrowup.He’dsnuckintothedamnedcowboyjoint,
knowingheshouldn’twatch,butunabletostoptheperverseneedtoseeforhimself.
He’dtrackeddownCelatwodaysagowiththeankletandhadbeenwatchingher,waiting
fortherighttimetoapproachher.
He’dneverplannedtostayinthebackgroundthislong.Buthealsohadn’tplanned
tofindCeladatingsomeone.Heshould’veassumeditwasapossibility.It’snotlike
theyhadtalkedsincehe’dwontheAsshatoftheYearawardinhisofficethatday.
Butpartofhimhadhopedthatmaybeshewashavingashardatimemovingonashe
was.Datinghadn’tevenbeenapossibilityforhimsinceshe’dleft.Buthereshe
wasoutonanotherdatewithMr.Teeth.Whothefucksmiledthatmuch?Theguyseemed
tohavepermanenthooksholdinghismouthup.Nodoubtbecausehefiguredhewasgetting
closerandclosertoworkinghiswayintoCela’slife…andbed.
Fosterrubbedthebackofhisneck,tensiongatheringthereatthethoughtofsomeone
elsetouchingCela.He’dalmostconvincedhimselfthatCelawasjustfriendswith
theguy…untiltonight.WatchingthatfuckerputhishandsonherandkisshiswomanhadinspiredmurderousthoughtsinFosterandhadalmostlaunchedhiminto
anunprovokedbarroombrawl.Buthe’dheldhimselfback,notwantingtoembarrass
Celaorcausetroubleforher.Shewasn’tdoinganythingwrong.Shewassimplymoving
on.
Withouthim.
Andreally,ifitwasthateasyforhertogoonwithsomeonenew,maybeeverything
Fosterhadreadintotheirrelationshiphadbeenbullshitanyway.He’dwantedittobeher.He’dwantedCelatobethatgirlforhim.Butmaybehe’dlaidallthat
expectationonherandthenonlysawwhathewantedtosee.He’ddoneitbeforewith
Darcy.Andevenwithhisparentsearlyon.Whenitcametorelationships,hesawwhat
hehopedforinsteadofwhatreallywas.AndifCelacouldbehappywithsomevanilla
dentistwhodidn’tevenbothertowalkherouttohercar,thenhecouldn’tdoadamned
thingaboutit.
Thekindofrelationshiphewantedwithherwasn’tthetypeyoupersuadedsomeone
into.Youwereeitherwiredforitornot.Andifshecouldwalkawayfromitand
notlookback,thatsaideverythingheneededtoknow
Ofcourse,thathadn’tstoppedhimfromfollowingherhometomakesureshegotin
okay.God,hewaspathetic.Hecouldnowaddcreepystalkertohislistofattributes.
Whatthefuckwaswrongwithhim?
Shewasonthephonewhensheturnedhercarintoherdriveway,butwaiteduntilshe
endedthecallbeforegettingout.Whensheclimbedout,shehadherkeysinherhand
andpeekedoverhershoulder,quicklycheckingtheperimeter.Thatbroughtatouch
ofasmiletohislips.Goodgirl.Ifnothingelse,hecouldtakecomfortinknowing
thatshewasbeingmoreawarenow,lookingoutforherself.
Fosterwatchedfromhisspotacrossthestreetacoupleofhousesdown,drinkingup
thelastviewofherassheheadedupthestepsinherpainted-onjeansandcowboy
boots.Herhairhungloosealongherback,andherememberedwhatithadfeltlike
towraparoundhisfingers.Apangwentthroughhischestassheunlockedherdoor
andslippedinside.
It’dbethelasttimehe’dlayeyesonher.
Becauseasmuchashewantedtobustherdoorrightdownandbegforanotherchance,
hewasn’tgoingtodisruptherlifelikethatagain.Sheseemedtobedoingfinewithout
him.Hetookalongbreath,daggersofregretknifingthroughhim,thenshiftedforward
toturnthekeyintheignition.Butaloudraponthewindowhadhimjumpinginhis
seat.
Heturnedtothelefttofindhimselfface-to-facewiththebarrelofashotgun,the
buttofitagainsttheglass.“Fuck.”
Heduckeddownoninstinct,hismindwhirling.
“Getoutthecar,”alow,exceptionallycalmvoicesaidthroughthewindow.
“Motherfucker,”hemuttered,graspingforanypossibleescaperoute.Ifhewerein
hiscar,he’dhaveagunintheglovebox.ButPikewouldn’thaveanything—theguy
hadhatedfirearmssincethedayshisdadusedtowaveonearoundforeffectwhile
hewasshit-faced.Leftwithoutmuchchoice,Fosterputhishandsuptoindicatehe
wascooperating,thenreachedforthedoorhandle.
Whoeverwasontheothersidebackeduptomakeroombutkeptthegunsteadyandpointed
rightathim.Fosterpushedthedooropenandclimbedoutslowly,handsup,hoping
itwasjustacarjacking.Pikewouldbesopissed,butFostercouldreplacehiscar.
HesilentlythankedGodthatCelahadalreadygoneinsideorthiscouldbeherwith
thegunpointedatherhead.
Themanontheothersideoftheshotgunwasolderandshorterthanhimandseemed
tobewearing…pajamas?Butthedudehadadeterminedlookinhisdarkeyes,soFosterwasn’tgoingtoattempt
toovertakehimunlesshehadto.
“Isthereaproblem?”Fosteraskedcarefully,beginningtowonderifthiswasjust
someneighborprotectinghispropertylineorsomething.Maybehe’dparkedhiscar
toohighonthecurbandhitaflowerbed.Texanscouldbetouchyaboutthatshit.
“Yes,thereis,”hesaid,accentthickandtoneterse.“Mindtellingmewhyyou’re
lurkinginthedarkwatchingmydaughter?Anddon’ttryanythingstupid.I’vealready
calledthepolice.”
Oh,shit.Piecesfelltogetherinaquickjumble.Thedad.Fosterclosedhiseyesforamoment.Okay,sonotacarjackerorcriminal.Atleast
hewouldn’tgetshottonight.Well,probablynot.“I’msoverysorry,Dr.Medina.
I’mnothreat.I’mafriendofCela’s.”
Hiseyesnarrowed.“Afriendwhosneaksaroundinthemiddleofthenightspyingon
herlikesomecockroach?”
Rapid-firemutteringinSpanishpunctuatedthestatement.Fosterwasn’tonehundred
percentfluent,buthepickedupafewchoicenamesincludingpervertandbastard.
Damn,howwashegoingtoexplainthis?Thetruthwasn’texactlygoodnews.“Myname
isIanFoster.I’mafriendofCela’sfromDallas.Aneighbor.”
HetiltedthegunandgaveFosterthehairyeyeball.
“Andanex-boyfriend,”hesaidfinally,realizingthemanwasn’tgoingtotakeany
bullshitanswer.
MoreSpanishandalookofutterdistastefromCela’sfather.“Shutupandstaywhere
youare.”
Sirenscutthroughthenight,andFostertiltedhisheadback.Fan-fucking-tastic.
Somuchforbeingcovert.Forthefirsttimehewishedhehadasafeword—anythingthatwouldgethimoutofthismess.
Afewminuteslater,hefoundhimselfface-to-facewithacopwhowasnotinthemood
forniceties.Cela’sfatherhadsteppedasideandputthegundown,butheclearly
wasgoingtostickaroundfortheshow.FosterglancedoveratCela’shouse,wondering
howlongit’dbebeforeshesawtheflashinglightsandpeekedoutherwindow.Nothing
likeaheapingdoseofhumiliationserveduphot.Andhe’dsufferitinfrontofher
familynoless.Terrific.
“Mr.Foster,doyoumindexplainingtomewhythiscarisregisteredtosomeoneelse?”
thecopasked,grippingthecar’sregistrationinhishandandholdingitupforFoster
tosee.
“Pike’smyroommate.Heletmeborrowthecar.”
“Borrow?”thecopfrownedlikehewasn’tfamiliarwithsuchaprogressiveidea.“Turn
around,Mr.Foster.”
“Forwhat?”
ThecoppulledouthishandcuffsandgaveFosterthedon’t-mess-with-meface.Fucking
hell.Fosterturnedaround,handcuffsgoingoverhiswrists.Click,click.“I’mjust
goingtoputtheseonuntilwegetthissortedout.”
That’swhenthedooropenedacrossthestreet.Celapeeredout,theredandbluelights
flashingovertheshortsandT-shirtshe’dchangedinto.Herheadturnedtowardher
father,whowasleaningagainstatreewitharmscrossedandafierceexpression.
Henoticedhisdaughterandwavedadismissinghand.“Goinside,Marcela.”
“What’sgoingon?”shecalledout.
“Isaidgoinside,”hebarkedback.
Foster’seyebrowlifted.Hehadanideaofhowthattonewouldgoover.HecouldalmosthearCelagrittingherteeth.Asexpected,she
stalkedacrossheryardandtowardherfather.Heh.
“Whatareyousmirkingabout?”thecopsnapped.
Foster’sgazeslidbacktothecop.“Nothingatall,officer.”
ButhehadnodoubtthecopheardtheheavysarcasminFoster’svoice.Fosterwas
aboutdoneputtingupwiththiscrap.TherewasnoavoidingCelaknowingnow,sohe
hadnoreasontocontinueplayingnice.
“Isuggestyouwipethatlookoffyourfacethen,”thecopsaid.
“Well,Isuggestthatyoutakemeoutofthesehandcuffs.Youhaven’tplacedmeunderarrest.
Ihaven’tthreatenedyou.AndIwasparkedonapublicstreet,notbotheringanyone
whenagunwaspointedatmyhead.Ifanything,I’mthevictimhere.Soyoucaneither
unlocktheseorIcanmakeacalltomylawyer.”
“Foster?”
Celahadmadeherwayacrossthestreetandwasnowstaringathim,mouthagape.
Hegaveherasheepishsmile.“Hi.”
Sheblinked,likeshehadn’tunderstoodhisgreeting,thenseemedtosnapbackinto
place.Hergazeslidtothehandcuffsthenbacktohimandthecop.“Whatthehell
isgoingon?”
“Yourfatherfoundthismanwatchingyourhouse,”thecopexplainedinthatI’ll-take-care-of-this-little-lady
tone.“Butdon’tworry,wehaveitundercontrol.Yourfatherkepthimcontaineduntil
Igothere.”
Sheglancedatherfather,thentotheshotgunlyingnexttothetree,andhereyes
widenedwithhorror.“Oh,pleasetellmeyoudidn’t.”
HerfatherpointedFoster’swayandwentintoaheatedexplanationinSpanish.Cela
snappedbackathimwithjustasfieryofaresponse.
“Hey,it’sokay,”Fostersaid,notwantingtocauseproblemsforherwithherfamily.
“Itwasmyfault.Icamedownheretoseeyou,thendecidednottobotheryou.I’m
sureitlookedsuspicious.”
Sheswiveledherattentionhisway.“I’lldealwithyouinasecond.AndIdon’tcare
whatyoulookedlike,hedoesn’tgettothreatenpeoplewithagun.”Shelookedback
toherfather.“Whatifhehadbeenarealcriminal,Papá?Hecould’vehurtyou.”
“Icanhandlemyself,”herfathersaidpetulantly.
“AndsocanI!”Shelookedtotheheavens.“Whenareanyofyougoingtogetthat
throughyourheads?Whatwereyoudoing?Waitingformetogethometonight?”
Herfather’sgazeflickedaway.
“OhmyGod,seriously?I’mtwenty-threeyearsold.WhatwouldhavehappenedifI’d
broughtmydatehome?Wouldyouhavebangedonthedoorandpointedagunathim,
too?”
Foster’sjawclenchedateventhementionofherdategoinghomewithher.
Herfatherdidn’tanswer,whichwasanswerenough.SheturnedherheadFoster’sway
again,cheeksflushedwithanger.“ForGod’ssake,gethimoutofthosehandcuffs,
Will.He’snotsomecriminal.”
Willdidn’tlookpleasedwiththeorder,buthecomplied.FosterwatchedCelaasthe
copwenttoworkonthecuffs.Shewassobeautifulstandingthere,cheekspink,eyes
wild.Ashisgazedrifteddownwardovertheclothesshe’dputonforbedandherbare
legs,hecaughtsightofaglintofsilverintheglareofthestreetlight.Hisanklet.
Evenaftereverything,shewaswearinghisgift.Somethingturnedoverinsidehim.
Heliftedhisgazetohers,andheknewshewasawareofwhathe’dseen.Heartbreak
satthereheavyinhereyes,takingthebreathfromhischest.
Fosterrolledhiswristsoncetheywereoutofthecuffsandsteppedontothesidewalk
butdidn’ttakehiseyesoffCela.Behindher,hecouldseeotherneighborsdrifting
outnow,gawking.Andaladyheassumedtobehermotherwasstandingoutontheporch
ofthehousedirectlyacrossfromCela’s.Heshookhishead.“I’mreallysorryabout
allthis.”
Shecrossedherarmsoverherchest,why?alloverherface,thensighed.“Comeon.”
Beforehecouldaskherwhatshemeant,shespunonherheel,walkedaroundtothe
passengersideofPike’scar,andopenedthedoor.
“Marcela,youcan’tmeantogosomewherewiththisman,”herfathersputteredashe
movedforward.“It’spastmidnightandlookhowyou’redressed.”
SheglanceddownatherT-shirtandboxersandlaughedmirthlessly.Fosterhadafeeling
shewasthinking,Ifyouonlyknew.“Goodnight,Papá.”
Sheclimbedinthecarandslammedthedoor.Dr.MedinasentFosteratouch-my-daughter-and-die
glarehisway,butFosterwasn’tgoingtowaitaroundforthemantograbhisshotgun
again.Hesnaggedthecarregistrationoffthetopofthehoodandpulledopenhis
door.“Sorryforthetrouble.”
Withoutwaitingforaresponse,hegotintothecarandshutthedoor.Hegripped
thewheel,stilltryingtoprocesshowhe’dgonefromsayinggood-byetoCelafor
goodtohavingherinhiscar.Heturnedherway.“Whatnow,angel?”
“Justdrive,”shesaid,staringoutthefrontwindow.
“Yes,ma’am.”THIRTY-SIX
Imustbehallucinating.ThatwasmyfirstthoughtasIrodeawayfrommyshotgun-wieldingfatherandrealizedIwasnowsittingnexttoFoster—Foster,
wholivedhoursawayfromhereandhadn’tspokentomeinoveramonth.Maybesomeone
hadslippedsomethingintomydrinkatthebar,andIwasnowpassedoutintheparking
lotoftheRustyWheel.
“So,you’rehere,”Isaid,showingmypenchantforbrilliantconversationstarters.
Notthatonereallyknewhowtostartaconversationwhenyoufoundyourex-boyfriend
beingarrestedinyourfrontyard.
Hegavemeasidelongglance,asifhewerehalf-worriedI’dcometomysensesand
jumpoutofthemovingvehicle.“Iam.”
“Andmyfatheralmostshotyou,”Isaid,goingdownthelistofthingsIneededto
establishbeforeprocessinganythingelse.
“Well,Idon’tthinkhewould’vereallyshotme.Butyes,hethreatenedmewitha
gun,whichIcanrespect—hethoughtIwasadangertoyou.”
Iturnedtohimthen,allowingmyselftofullydrinkinhispresencethere.God,even
myimaginationhadn’tdonehimjustice.Helookedtiredandhisstubblewaswaypast
fiveo’clock,buteverymusclefiberinmeseemedtostraintowardhim,wantingto
wrapmyselfaroundhim.Butthat’snotwhoweweretoeachotheranymore.
Iglancedaway,staringoutatthereflectiveyellowlineatthecenteroftheroad.
“Areyouadangertome?”
“Cela.”Hesaidmynamewithanacheinit.
“No,I’mserious,”Isaid,pullingmyself-preservationarmoraroundme,lockingout
thepartofmethatonlywantedtorememberthegoodstuff,thepartthatdidn’twant
torememberhowmeanhe’dbeenthelasttimeI’dseenhim,howmuchhe’dhurtme.
“Whyareyouhere?Whatwereyoudoingonmystreetatmidnight?”
HeblewoutalongbreathandtookaturnintoanemptyHomeDepotparkinglot,cutting
offtheengine.Hefocusedontheempty,orangebuildinginfrontofus.“Iwashere
toseeifyouweredoingokay,tomakesurethatwhenyoutoldmeyouwerehappyhere,
thatyoureallywere.”
Ifrowned.“WhenItoldyouIwashappyhere?Fosterwehaven’ttalkedsince—”
“Itwasn’tPikewhotextedyou.”
Istaredathisprofile,notevensurewhattodowiththatinformation.“Whywould
youdothat?”
Hefacedmefinally,hisblueeyesalmostblackinthedarkinteriorofthecar,but
Icouldseetheremorsethere.“IneededyoutoknowthatnothinghappenedwithBret.
AndIhadtohearfromyouthatyouwereokay.YouhaddecidedtostayinDallasfor
morereasonsthantobewithme,andIfeltresponsibleforchasingyoubackhere.”
Isighed.“Youdidn’tchasemebackhere—atleast,nottotally.Theygavethejob
tosomeoneelse.Ididn’thaveanythingtostayforanymore.”
Heleanedbackinhisseat,runningahandoverhisface.“Ifuckedeverythingup.
I’msorry.Itoldyoufromthestartthatyoucouldslowdownorbackoutatanytime,
andthenwhenyoudid,Iactedlikeanasshole.Youdidn’tdeservethat.”
Ipulledmylegsontotheseatandsatmychinonmyknees,feelingcolddespitethe
warmnight.“No,Ididn’t.AndwhenIsawthatblondewalkintoyourbuilding,Iwanted
tothrowup,Foster.”Iturnedmyheadtofacehim.“AllIwantedwastimetothink,
andyoucalledupanothergirlbeforeIwasevenoutthedoor.”
Helookedmyway,expressionpained.“Ican’teventellyouhowsorryIamforthat.
Nothinghappenedwithher.Ipromiseyou.BretistheprivateinvestigatorIhired
tokeepdiggingupleadsonmysister’scase.We’refriends.That’sit.”
“Friendswho’veslepttogether,”Isaidflatly.
Hegrimaced.
Thewordlessanswerwaslikeatwo-by-fourswingingrightintomygut.Ilookedaway,
clenchingmyjawtokeepstupidtearsfromappearing.
“Butthatwasinthepast,alongtimeago.Andnothingwaseverlike…”
“Likewhat,Foster?”Iasked,needinghimtofinishthatsentence,needingtoknow
whyhewashere,tearingopenthiswoundagain.
“Areyouhappy,Cela?”heaskedabruptly.
Thequestioncaughtmeoffguard.“What?”
“ThelastthingIwanttodoismakethisworse.Andeventhoughitwaskillingme
nottotalktoyou,Iwasgoingtoleaveyoualone,letyoumoveonwithyourlife.
ButthenIgotanemailtellingmeyou’dactivatedmyanklet,and…Ijustneeded
toknowforsure.Neededtosee.Areyouhappy?Isthiswhereyouwanttobe?Work?
Isthatdentistwhowaskissingyoutonightthekindofguyyouwanttobewith?”
“Thedentist…”Myjawwentslack.“Youfollowedmeonmydate?”
Herubbedahandoverthebackofhisneck.“Yes.AndI’mnotgoingtomakeexcuses
tojustifythat.Itwascompletelyoutofline.Iknowthat.I’mactinglikeacrazy
person.Butmyquestionsstillstand.Areyouhappyhere?Isthiswhatyouwant?”
“Whydoyoucare?”Iasked,stillinshockthathe’dfollowedme.Thathe’dwatched
mekissanotherguy.
Hereachedoutandgraspedmychinwithgentlefingers,drawingmygazetohisintense
one.“Icarebecauseifyou’rehappy,ifthisiswhatyouwant,Iwilldriveyouright
backhomeandneverbotheryouagain.Iwillletyougo.”
Iblinked,thetearsblurringmyvisionnow.
“Butifyou’renot,ifthere’sevenpartofyouthatmissesmehalfasmuchasImiss
you,apartthatliesawakeatnightandcan’tstopthinkingabouthowthingswere
withus,thenpleaseGod,tellme.BecauseI’mfuckingmiserable,Cela.”
Iclosedmyeyes,unabletobeartheweightofhisstare,hiswords.Myairwayseemed
tonarrowtoapinhole.“Foster…”
“AndIwishIcouldtellyouthatI’llchangeeverything.Especiallyaftertonight,
Icanseehowthedominantstuffwouldscareyouoff.IknowIcanbeoverbearing
andhigh-handed.AndIcanbefuckedupandparanoidaboutstuffsometimes.It’sa
lot.AndIwouldfixitifIcould,butIdon’tknowhowtobeanyotherway.”
Icouldn’tlookathim.Itwasalltoomuch.Havinghimhere,hearinghisvoice,the
sharpedgeofsadnessinhiswords.
“AllIcantellyouisthatIneverintendedtolockyoudownortakeawayyourindependence.
Yourstrengthandstubbornnessarepartofwhatdrawsmetoyou.Evenwiththewhole
ankletthing,itwasneveradesiretokeeptabsonyouorintrudeonyourprivacy.
Ijust…Iwasfallinginlovewithyou,anditinspiredeveryounceofmyprotective
streak.”
Myeyessnappedopen,myheartjumpingrightintomythroatandthewordlovegettingtangledinmysynapses.
“Icouldn’tbearthethoughtofsomethingbadhappeningtoyou,oflosingyou.”He
cradledmyfaceinhispalms,everylineinhisexpressionetchedwithregret.“And
Ilostyouanyway.BecauseI’manidiot.Ichasedyouawaybeforeweevengotareal
chance.”
Moisturetrackedalongmycheeks.Isaidhisnameagain,unabletoputmythoughts
intherightorder.
“Areyouhappy,Cela?”heaskedagain,hisownvoiceknottedwithemotionnow.“That’s
allIneedtoknow.”
Ileanedforward,lettingmyforeheadpresstohis.Everythingfeltsoheavyallof
asudden—themove,myjob,leavingFoster,datingagain,tryingtofigureoutwhat
thehellIwantedoutofmylife.Iwantedtocurlinaballandbebackinmydorm
freshmanyearwheneverythingwassimpleandlaidoutandobvious.Allpossibility.
Noreality.“Idon’tknowwhatIamanymore.I’mlost.”
“Oh,angel,”hesaidsoftly.“Iknowwhatyoumean.”
Ipulledbackandrestedagainstmyseat,thenearnessofhimtoomuchtotakefor
mywrung-outsystem.AllIwantedtodowascrawlintohislapandlethimtellme
everythingwasgoingtobeokay.Andthatwasexactlywhatalwaysfreakedmeoutwith
Foster.Ididn’twanttobeweakandneedsomeoneelselikethat.“I’mscaredofhow
IfeelwhenI’mwithyou.”
“Whatdoyoumean?”
“DidIevertellyouthatmymomusedtobeapainter?”
Heshookhishead,leaningbackinhisownseat,givingmespace.
“Shewas.ShehadalotoftalentandevengotascholarshiptoaschoolinNewYork.
Butshewasalreadydatingmydad,andhehadafullridetoUTinAustin.Shecouldn’t
getintotheuniversitybecause,thoughshewasabrilliantartist,shesuckedat
thingslikemathandscienceanddidn’thavehighenoughscores.Soshejustgave
itupforhim,gotareceptionistjobinAustinanddedicatedherlifetobeinghis
wife.Andtheyloveeachother,Iknowthat.Butsheisn’therownpersonanymore.
Hemakesthedecisions.Shefollowsthem.Iknowittorehertopieceswhenhekicked
mysisterout,andshedidn’tstanduptohim.Shedidn’tstandupforherowndaughter.
Iloveherwithallmyheart,butIcannotbecomeher.”
Foster’smouthcurveddownward.“Baby,Ihearwhatyou’resaying,butyouhaveto
realizethatyouaresofarfrombeingatriskofthathappening,it’snotevenfunny.
Youaretoughandindependentandhardheaded.”
“ButwhenI’mwithyou,allIwanttodoisgivein,”Ifiredback.“Ifalltomy
kneeswillingly,IsteppastlinesIneverwould’veconsideredwalkingover,andI
havethisthing,thisdesiretopleaseyou,thatscaresthelivingshitoutofme.
Ihaven’tgoneadaywithoutthinkingaboutyou,Foster.Andtonight,evenafterI
toldMikenottowalkmeout,Ifoundmyselfannoyedthathedidn’t.Imissedyourcrazy
overprotectiveness.Howmessedupisthat?”
Aghostofasmiletouchedhislips.“Didyoujustsayyoumissedmycrazy?”
Istaredathimforalongsecondandthenlaughedsomeweird,tear-cloggedlaugh.
Iputmyhandsovermyface.“Goddammit.Idomissit.Whatthehelliswrongwithme?”
“Cela,”hesaid,tuggingoneofmyhandsawayfrommyface.“There’snothingwrong
withyou.Allofthatstuffdoesn’tmeanyouwanttoturnintosomerobotwife.You
haveasubmissivesidetoyou—abeautiful,dead-sexydesiretoplease.Buttheonly
timethat’sdangerousorwrongisifyouputitinthehandsofsomeonewhoisgoing
toexploitit.Iwouldneverwanttochangeyouorgetinthewayofyourcareeror
dreams.Andit’sokaytowanttobetakencareoforprotectedsometimes.Nooneshould
havetotakeontheworldallaloneallthetime.”
Ilookedathim.HowmanytimeshadIimaginedhisfacetheselastfewweeks?How
manytimeswhenI’dcurledupatnighthadIwishedheweretherenexttome?And
thoughIlikedMike,Iknewinmygutitwasonlyfriendship.Whenhe’dkissedme
tonight,there’dbeennoneofthatfirethatwastherewhenFostersimplybrushed
hislipsovermine.Evenjustsittinghereinthecarwithhimhadthishumofelectricity
movingthroughme.
Buttherewassomuchtothinkabout,somanydecisionsalreadymade.Myjobwashere,
mydadwascountingonme.Ihadahousenow.AndFosterhadsaidithimself,hewas
whohewas.Ieitherhadtoembracehispersonalityanddominancefullyandaccept
whatthatbroughtoutinme,orit’dneverwork.
Ireachedoutandtookhishand.“Idon’tknowifI’mgoingtohavealltheanswers
foryoutonight.AllIcanofferyouishonesty.”
“That’sallI’masking,angel,”hesaid,lacinghisfingerswithmine.
“I’vemissedyousomuch,Icanbarelybreathethroughitsometimes,”Iadmitted.
“WhenIlieinbedatnight,it’syouwho’sonmymind.AndI’mwearingthisanklet
becauseIwantedtofeelclosetoyouagain,andIcan’tseemtotakeitoff.”
Heclosedhiseyes,hischestexpandingwithadeepbreath,andbroughtmyhandup
tohismouth,brushinghislipsoverourentwinedknuckles.
“AndI’mnotunhappy,butI’mnothappyeither.Ihaven’tbeenhappysincethatlast
morningIwokeupnexttoyou.”
Hisgazemetmine,nakedemotionswirlinginthosebluedepths.“Ditto.”
“Andthere’salotweneedtotalkaboutandconsider.Butit’slate,andit’salready
beenalongnightforusboth.”
Hesighed,hisexpressionturningresigned,andletgoofmyhand.“Right.Plus,I’m
sureifIdon’ttakeyouhomeinthenexttenminutes,yourdadwillprobablysend
outasearchparty.LastthingIwantistocauseyoumoretroublewithhim.”
Fosterliftedhisarmtoturnthekey,butIputmyhandoverhis,stoppinghim.“I
don’twanttotalkanymoretonight.ButIdon’twanttogohomeeither.”
Heturnedhishead,browsknitted.“What?”
Iwetmylips,theyearningthat’dbeenbuildingoveralltheseweeksfillingevery
poreofmybody.Iknewitprobablywasn’tfairtoask,butIwasdoneoveranalyzing
thingstonight.EvenifIdidn’tknowwhatthefuturewouldlooklike,rightnowI
neededthis.Him.“Idon’twanteitherofustofacetheworldalonetonight,Foster.
Letmestaywithyou.”
Awarenessflickeredoverhisfeatures,likestreetlampsblinkingon,andIsawmy
ownyearningreflectedbackinhim.Hegaveaquietassentandturnedtheignition.
Tonight,wewouldn’tbealone.THIRTY-SEVEN
Wedidn’tspeakonthedrivetohishoteloronthewaytohisroom.Wesimplyheldhands,ourfingerstwinedtightlytogether.Andduringthe
climbintheelevator,hewatchedme,muchlikehehadthatfirstnightridingup
tothathotelroom.ButthistimeIwasn’ttryingtohideanythingfromhim.This
wasme,strippeddowntothestuds,nowallstoprotectme.
Whenthedoorshutbehindusinhisroom,heflippedthelockandturnedtome.Everything
wasthereonhisface.Hepushedmyhairbehindmyears,lookingatmelikehewas
afraidIwasn’treal,likeI’ddisintegrateandsiftbetweenhisfingerslikesand.
Histhumbtracedmybottomlip.Ishudderedbeneaththesimpletouch,myheartbeat
loudinmyears.
Thenhisfingersweretanglinginmyhairashebentmyheadbackandbroughthis
mouthdowntomine.Hislipsweretenderatfirst,gentle—likeaninnocentfirstkiss.
ButwhenIpartedmineandtouchedmytonguetohis,thewallofthedambroke.He
bandedanarmaroundmywaistanddraggedmeagainsthim,histonguetwiningwith
mineandhisfingerstighteningagainstmyscalp.Theroughnessofitsentsparks
racingalongmynerveendings,electrifyingeverypointofcontactbetweenus.Imoaned
intothekissandwrappedmyarmsaroundhisneck.
God.This.Inthelonelinessofthelastfewweeks,Ihadtriedtotalkmyselfoutofhowgood
thingshadfeltwithFoster,hadtriedtoconvincemyselfthatI’dexaggeratedit,
thatmymemorieswereembellished.Buthavinghisbodypressedagainstmine,thecommand
ofhiskissliquefyingeveryounceofme,Irealizedthat,ifanything,evenmymost
vividrecollectionspaledtothereality.
Hebrokeawayfromthekiss,bothofusbreathless,andputhishandsonmyshoulders,
hisgazeflaringwithheat.“Ifyouwantmetostop,now’sthetimetotellme.Because
ifIkeepkissingyou,I’mtakingyoutothatbedandnotlettingyououtofituntil
tomorrow.”
Icurledmyfingersintothewaistbandofhisjeans,pullingustogetheragain.“I
wantthis.Iwantyou.AndIdon’tneedsomevanilla,PCversion.Nomatterwhathappens,Iwouldnever
askyoutochange.”
Hislipspressedtogetherashewatchedme,andsomethingseemedtoliftfromhis
expression.Soon,thatwickedsmileofintentthatIlovedsomuchgracedhismouth.
Heslidhishandsdownmysides,foundthehemofmyT-shirtandtuggeditovermy
head,thenmadequickworkofmybra.Hishandscuppedmybreastsandteased,cajoling
soft,needysoundsfromme.“Ihaven’tbeenabletothinkaboutanything,angel,except
yousinceyouleft.I’vetriedeverythingtodistractmyself,butnomatterwhat,
whenIclosemyeyes,thereyouare.”
Hebackedmetowardthebed,butIputahandtohischest.“Triedeverythingtodistract
yourselforeveryone?”
Hegrowledandliftedmeoffmyfeet.“Angel,Ihaven’tevenbeenabletolookat
anotherwoman.YouthinkIwouldfucksomeoneelse,thencomelookingforyou?”
“Well,Idon’tknow—”HetossedmeontothebedandIbouncedwithanoof
“Youshouldhavemorefaithinme.”Hesatontheedgeofthebedanddraggedmeonto
hislaptostraddlehim.“Theonlythingthathasseenanyactionismyfistbecause
Icouldn’tstopthinkingaboutyou,picturingyoulikethis.”
Hismouthclosedoveroneofmynipplesandpleasurearcedthroughme.Ibracedmy
handsonhisshouldersandletmyheadfallbackasIimaginedhimtakinghimself
inhishand,slidingthoselongfingersoverhiscock.Dampheatpressedagainstmy
cottonpantiesashemovedtotheotherbreast.
“I’msorry,”Iwhispered.
Heliftedhishead,drawingmyattentionbacktohim.“Whataboutyou?Iwon’thold
itagainstyouifyoudid.I’mtheonewhopushedyouaway.”
Ifrowned.“Wouldn’tholdwhatagainstme?”
“Ifyousleptwiththedentist,”hesaid,histonebelyinghowtotallyun-okaywith
ithe’dreallybeaboutthat.
Iblanched.“God,Foster,no.Tonightwasthefirsttimeweevenkissed.”
Heclosedhiseyesbrieflyinathank-Godway,thenliftedhislids,hisgazeintent.
“Iwantedtobeattheshitoutofthatguyforevendaringtotouchyou.Tookeverything
Ihadnottointerrupt.”
“He’sagoodguy.”Ileaneddownandkissedhisbrow.“Buthedoesnothingforme.
You”—Igrabbedhiswristandbroughthishanddownward,slippinghiswarmfingers
insidemyshortsandpanties—“dothistomejustbylookingmyway.”
Hegroanedashisfingerspartedmyfoldsandfoundwetheat.“Ilovehowfucking
boldyou’rebecoming.Sosexyandconfident.”
“Youmakemebrave.”Irockedagainsthishand,thestimulationlikesweetfirelicking
upmybody.
Heslippedhisfingersfrommypantiesandswipedthemovermylips,spreadingmy
owntastethere,thentookmymouthinanotherheatedkiss.Ithreadedmyfingers
inhishairandscootedforward,draggingmyselfalonghiserection.Everythinginside
mewasalreadycoilingtight.It’dbeensolongsinceI’dtouchedhim.Ifeltstarved—each
breath,eachtouchprovidingthesweetsustenanceI’dbeencraving.
Hepulledbackfromthekiss,hiseyesalmostblackinthesoftlamplightofthehotel
room.“God,I’vemissedyou.”
Ibroughtmyhandstohisjaw,feelingthestubblebeneathmyfingertips.“Everynight
I’dcrawlintobedtotrytosleep,butthenI’drememberthis,you,andmybodywould
gosohot.”
Hisgriptightenedonmythighs.“Didyoutouchthatprettycuntofyours?”
“EvenwhenIpromisedmyselfIwouldn’t,”Iadmitted,theoldflushofembarrassment
stillrisingtothesurfaceattheconfessionandhiscrudewords.
“Mmm,”hesaid,thesoundrumblingthroughhischest.“AndwhatdidyouimagineI
wasdoingtoyou,myangel?”
Ibitmylipbutrefusedtoletmybred-inshynessrearitsheadagain.“Iimagined
roughthings,yourdominance,youtyingmeup.Myskinwouldactuallytinglewhen
I’dimagineyourhandoryourfloggercomingdownonme.”
Thelookthatcrossedhisfacewasalmostoneofanguish.“Christ,Cela,you’rekilling
me.”
—
TheopenhonestyonCela’sfacewasenoughtowringtheairfromhislungs.Allthetimestheyweretogether,Fosterhadalwayswonderedif
maybeshe’donlybeengoingalongwiththingstopleasehim,tobeexperimental.But
tohearthatnotonlyhadshemissedhim,buthadalsofantasizedabouthisbinding
herandbringingherpain,madehisheartwanttogrowwingsandzoomrightoutof
hischest.
Heknewhehadtobecautious.Shesaidshedidn’thaveanswerstonight.Therewas
stillaveryrealpossibilitythatshecouldwalkawayfromhim.Butifhe’dhadany
doubtswhetherornotshewastrulywiredforbeingsubmissive,hedidn’tnow.She
cravedwhathecouldgiveher.AndGodknows,heachedforher.
Hepushedherdarkhairawayfromherface.“Turnaroundandlieacrossmylap,angel.
Idon’tneedyouimagininganymore.”
Hereyeswenthalf-mastandsheeasedoffhislap,turningtolayherselfproneacross
hisknees.Hermuscleswerealreadystartingtoloosen,hermindsinkingintothe
moment.Whenhehadherinposition,hetuggeddownhershortsandpanties,leaving
thematherknees.Fuck,shewasbeautiful—fullbreastspressedagainsthisthigh,
hairhangingdowntobrushthefloor,andthefemininecurveofherbackandassthere
likeafeastforhim.
Herubbedahandalongtheglobeofonecheek,enjoyingthesilky-smoothskin,then
heraisedhishandandgaveitaswiftsmack.Sherearedup,herbreathcatching,
andhiscockpressedagainsttheflyofhisjeans.Thebrightpink,five-fingered
imageappearedonthatgoldenskin.He’dneverbeabletodescribetoherwhatthat
didtohim,toseehismarkonher,toknowthatshecravedbothhissoftnessand
hissting,butitwasalmostreligiousforhim.Hebroughthishanddownagainon
theothersideandinhaledherreaction—thesoftcry,thescentofherarousaldrifting
upward,thesurrenderinherstance.
“Givemeacolor,Cela,”hesaid,rubbinghispalmalongtheplacehe’dhit.
“Green,”shewhispered,squirmingabitbeneathhishold.“Soverygreen.”
Hesmiled.Howfarshe’dcome.Frombeingembarrassedaboutthesmallestdesireto
beggingtobespanked.Hecouldn’teverrememberseeingsomethingassexyasthis
womantakingownershipofherdesires.Hespankedherwithalittlemoreoomphthis
timeandshequiveredagainsthim.
Confidentthatshewastotallywithhimnow,heworkedherover,darkeningherass
andthebacksofherthighswithapatternofredmarks.Herskinbegantoglisten
withsweat,andhermoansturnedintobreathy,desperatewhimpers.Hedrewhishand
downandbetweenherlegs,findinghersoakedandhotwitharousal.“Youneedtocome,
angel?”
“Yes,please,sir,”shesaid,pushinguponhertoestogrindagainsthisfingers.
Heliftedherupandrolledherontoherbackonthebed.Shelookedupathimwith
glazedeyes,hercheeksflushed.Hekneltonthefloorandtuggedherpantiesand
shortsfullyoff.“Youhavemypermission.”
Heundidhisbeltbuckleandtheflyofhispants,hiserectiondemandingtobefreed
fromitsdenimprison,andhedrapedCela’slegsoverhisshoulders.Thesoft,pink
foldsofherpussyspreadbeforehim,swollenandglisteningwithherarousal,and
hehadtoholdbackthegroan.Hefistedhiscockatthebase,tryingtotamethe
needbuildinginhim.Hewantedtotakehistimeandsavorthis,savorher.
Hedippedforwardandlaidkissesalongherinnerthighs,givingheraquicklittle
poponthehipwhenshewouldn’tbestill.Shehuffedherfrustration,makinghim
smile,butshemadeadecidedlydifferentnoisewhenheranhistonguealonghercenter.
Herfingerscurledintothecomforter,andherhipsrockedforward.Heclosedhis
eyes,relishinghertarttasteandthesweetscentofherdesire.Helovedhowshameless
shewas,archingagainsthistongueandmakingallthosesoft,throatynoises.
Heeasedtwofingersinsideher,theheatofhermakinghiscockthrob,andranthe
tipofhistonguearoundherclitbeforesuckingitbetweenhislips.Shegroaned,
andhepumpedhisfingersinsideher,workingherwithhismouthuntilhecouldfeel
herpussytightening.Hecurledhisfingersinsideher,findingthespotheknewshe
needed,andasharpcrybrokethroughtheroom.Shewrithedagainstthebed,andhe
heldhertohismouthwithhisfreearm,helpingherridetheintensitywhenherbody’s
instinctwastopullaway.
Herstrangledcrieswerelikesweetmusicseepingintohisbloodstream,makinghis
bodythrobintimewithhersounds.Whenhecouldtellshecouldn’ttakeanymore,
hebackedoff,rubbinghischeekagainstherthighandtalkingtoherinsofttones.
“Beautiful,angel.”
Shereachedforhim,dragginghernailsalonghisscalpandsendinghotshiversthrough
him.“Ineedyou,Foster.Please.”
“Greedylittlegirl,aren’tyou?”heteased,ashepushedhimselfoffthefloor,shucking
offhisclothesandloweringontothebed.
Hereyelidsflutteredopenandshegavehimaslowsmile.“IfIwasn’thighonafterglow,
Iwouldtotallybeoffendedatthat.”
Hegrinnedashecrawledoverher,bracinghimselfaboveher.“ThenI’lljustkeep
youinaconstantstateofarousalsoIcansayanyfilthy,offensivethingthatcomes
tomind.”
Sheranherhandsalonghischest,openlyexploringeverydipandvalley.“Thatwon’t
behard.Youseemtohavethateffectonme.”
Helovedhowshetouchedhimsohungrily,likeeachpartofhimwasarevelation.
“Feeling’smutual,gorgeous.”
Heleaneddowntokissherashepositionedhimselfatherentrance,nolongerin
themoodtobepatient.Themomenthesankintoher,allfeltrightwiththeworld
again.Hiswomanwrappedaroundhim,hertasteonhislips,andherheartbeatpounding
againsthischestintimewithhis.
No.Nothiswoman,hecorrected.Notyet.Buthewasgoingtotryhisdamnedesttomakeitso.
Unabletoresist,hegrabbedherwristsandpinnedbothofthemaboveherheadas
herockedintoher.Shesurrenderedwillingly,hereyescatchinghisandholdingthe
gazeashesliddeep.Andinthatmoment,hedidn’tneedherwordstoknow.Heaffected
herasmuchasshedidhim.Therewassomethingtherethathe’dneverexperienced
beforewithanyoneelse.Evenwhenhethoughthe’dbeeninlovewithDarcy,hehadn’t
feltthatrip-through-your-chest-and-tug-out-your-soulfeelinglikehedidwhenhe
lookedatCela.
Celashiftedbelowhim,hereyesblinkingclosedandaflushcreepingoverherneck.
Shewassocloseagainalready.Thepassioninherwasrightthereatthesurface,
burstingthroughwithalmostnocoaxing.Hecouldspendforeverdiscoveringallthe
waystobringherrighttotheedgeofherpleasureandthentormentingheruntil
shecameapartbeneathhim.Hereacheddownwithhisfreehandandgrabbedherhip,
tiltingherupwardandmovinginsideherattheanglehewanted.
Sweatglazedboththeirbodiesasherelentlesslypumpedintoher,knowingthathis
girlrespondedbettertoanice,hardfuckingasopposedtoslow,sweetlovemaking—the
virginhadgrownintothevixen.Andhecouldn’tgetenoughofherandhowravenous
shewasforhim.Itmadehimfeelpowerfulandwanted.Likeaman.Likeherman.
“God,Foster,yes,”shemurmured,talkingoutofherheadnow,soclosetobreaking
apart.
Heincreasedhispace,thesoundofskinslappingskinmixinginwithherthroaty
whimpers,andallhismusclesbegantotighten.Hercrossedwriststhrashedrestlessly
beneathhistightholdassheracedupthehillagain.
“Comeforme,angel,”hesaid,hisbreathsawingoutofhimnow.
Herheadtiltedbackintothepillows,exposingthelonglengthofherthroat,and
alow,gloriouscryfilledtheroom.Hesankforward,goingstraightforthespot
whereneckmetshoulder,thecreamyskinbeckoninghim,andbitdown.Hermoanturned
guttural,andhereleasedherwrists.Herhandsclampedontohisbackinstantly,
hernailsdiggingintohisskin,andthenipofpainsenthisownorgasmthundering
downhisspine.Pleasureexplodedthroughhim,andhegroanedaseverythingwentwhite
behindhiseyes,fillingherwithhisrelease.
Later.Seconds?Minutes?Hedidn’tknoworcare,theybothgotoutofbedandtook
alongbathtogetherinthehotel’sJacuzzitub.Neitherofthemseemedinthemood
totalk,bothcontenttobaskinthequietofeachother’sembrace.Heknewshehad
alotonhermind.Sodidhe.Andhewasn’tgoingtopushherforanythingmoretonight.
He’dalreadygottenwaymorethanhehadeveranticipated.Thelookshe’dgivenhim
whenthey’djoinedtogethercouldkeephimsurvivingonhopeforawhilelonger.
Butwhentheybothclimbedunderthecovers,andhewrappedhisarmsaroundher,he
couldn’thelpbutsaywhathadbeensittingthereonhischestallnight.Hepressed
akisstoherbareshoulder.“I’minlovewithyou,Cela.”
Thestiffeningofhermuscleswasslight,buthedidn’tmissit.
Andthatworriedhimmorethananythinghadallnight.
Evenmorethanthefactthatshedidn’tsayanythingback.PARTVIII
NOTUNTILYOULOVE
THIRTY-EIGHT
Iwokeupgroggyanddisoriented,aloudsoundfillingmyearsandthebedjostling.IrolledovertofindFostergropingaroundthehotelroom
inthedarkandcursing.
“Whothefuckwouldcallthisearly?Andwherethehellismyphone?”
Iwrappedthecoversaroundme,thechilloftheroomraisinggoosebumpsonmyskin,
andclimbedoutofbed,draggingthesheetwithme.“Ithinkit’soverhereonthe
desk.”
Igrabbeditforhim,butit’dstoppedringingbythattime.
“Dammit,”hesaidfromtheothersideoftheroom.
Ipeekedoverattheclock.Alittlepastfive.Callsthisearlywerenevergood.
Formeitusuallymeantapanickedfamilyandaninjuredpet,butIhadafeeling
someonecallingFosterthisearlywouldbeevenmoreominous.
“Doesitsaywhoitwas?”heasked,fumblingaroundforthelamp.
Iflippedoverthephoneandhitthebuttontoilluminatethescreen.Ugh.Bileburned
thebackofmythroat.Itossedthephoneonthebed.“Yeah.It’sBret.”
“Bret?”hesaid,thelampflickingon,lightinghisstrickenface.“Shit.”
Ipulledthesheettighteraroundme,mychillnolongerrelatedtotheoveractive
airconditioner.“I’mgoingtogoshower,soifyouneedtocallherback,you’ll
havesomeprivacy.”
Ifhecaughtthebitingedgetomytone,hedidn’tacknowledgeit.Instead,hewas
alreadymovingtowardthephone,probablynotevenhearingme.
“Right,”Isaidundermybreath.Guesswhenshecalled,thewholeworldneededtostop.Iturnedonmyheelandheadedtothebathroom
beforetheuglyjealousycouldcausemetosaysomethingI’dregret.
AsIstoodunderthestreamofhotwaterintheshower,Itriedtopullmyselfback
togetherandnotpictureFosterinbedwiththatblondknockout.He’dsaidBretwasacolleagueand
afriendnow,notalover.Ifshewascalling,itprobablywasn’tforabootycall.
Mylogicalbrainknewthat,butmycompletelyirrationalheartwasn’thearingany
ofit.
He’dtoldmelastnightthathelovedme.Istillcouldn’tfullydigestthatturnofevents.Mycognitivefunctioninghad
frozenwhenhe’dsaidthewords.Inalotofways,it’dbeeneverythingI’dwanted
tohear.Beingwithhimlastnight,feelinghistouch,hadonlysolidifiedhowstrongly
Ifeltforhim.AndmaybeIhadfalleninlovewithhim,too.ButIhadnoideaif
thatwasenough.Ihadmovedmylifehere.AndarelationshipwithFostermeanta
certainkindoflifestylethatmybrainandbodywereatwarover.
Icouldn’t—wouldn’t—saythewordstohimifIwasn’tgoingtobeabletobackthem
upwithacommitment.Ididn’twanttobeanotherhurtinhislife.
BythetimeIsteppedoutofthebathroom,Fosterwasfullydressedandtossingclothes
intohissuitcase.Anyremnantsofmyjealousbitchsideshuthermouthandconcern
floodedme.“What’sgoingon?”
Heturnedtolookatme,facedrawn.“Bretsaidshefoundsomeinformationaboutmy
sister’scaseandhadtogototheFBIwithit.Theywouldn’tlethergivemethe
detailsoverthephone.Ihavetogetbacktotown.”
Iwrappedmyarmsaroundmyself.“Ofcourse.IsthereanythingIcandotohelp?”
Hewalkedovertome,takingmyfaceinhishands,andpressedaquickkisstomy
lips.“Youcanforgivemeforleavingbeforewehaveachancetotalkthingsout.”
“Done,”Isaidwithouthesitation.Wecoulddealwiththecomplicatedtangleofour
relationshipanotherday.“Shedidn’tgiveyouanyindicationofwhattypeofnews
thiswas.”
Hewentbacktohispacking,hismovementsefficientbuthisshouldersstiffwith
tension.“Well,therereallyisnogoodnewsinthis.I’mnotnaiveenoughtothink
Neveisjustgoingtoreappearoneday.Butifwecouldfindoutwhathappened,who
tookher…Imaybeabletoprovidesomeclosureformyparents.Somepeace.They’ve
spenteverydaysinceshewentmissingdedicatingtheirlivestothecause.”
“Sohaveyou,”Isaidgently.
Hepeeredbackoverhisshoulderatme.“Iowedthatmuchtoher.IfIhaddonewhat
Iwassupposedtothatday,shemaystillbearound.”
“Youwereakid,Foster,”Isaid,comingtositontheedgeofthebed.“Youweren’t
oldenoughtoberesponsibleforsomeoneelse.”
Hisjawtwitched.“Ijustneedtobeabletotellmyparents—wegothimorthemor
whoeverwasinvolved.Maybeoncethere’ssomejusticehandeddown…”
“They’llforgiveyou?”Iasked,myheartheavyforhim.
Hezippeduphissuitcaseandstareddownatit,hisexpressiongrim.“No,angel,
they’llneverdothat.Howcouldthey?Butmaybethey’llatleastbeabletomove
on.”
Thelonelyacheinhisvoice—thatofakidstilllookingforlovefromhisparents—made
mychesthurt.ButIknewtherewasnothingIcouldsaytomakehimfeelbetter.That
woundwasoneonlyhismomanddadcouldheal.Ihopedforhissakethattheywould
mendthatbridge.
“Willyoucallmeandletmeknowhowthingsgowhenyougetachance?”
Abriefsmiletouchedhislipsandhecuppedmycheek.“Iwon’thaveto.Assoonas
Itakecareofthis,I’mcomingrightbackdownheresowecanreallytalk.”
“Okay,”Isaidreturninghissmile.
“Justtellmeonething.”
Ileanedintohistouch.“What’sthat?”
“TellmeIhavestillhaveashot,angel.”
Iclosedmyeyes,knowingthetruthinmyheartevenifIcouldn’tquitefaceityet.
“You’vestillgotashot.”
Hegrinnedfullynowandlaidasoft,toe-curlingkissonmymouth.“Iloveyou,Cela.”
“Youkeepsayingthat,”Iteased,tryingtolightentheimpactofthewords.
“Ikeepmeaningit.”Hegavemeanotherquickpeck,thengrabbedhisbag.“Comeon,
I’lldriveyouhome.”
“Allright.”IwenttograbmythingsbutthenrealizedIhadnothings.I’dbasically
goneoutinmypajamaslastnight.Nophone.Nopurse.Justmykeys.Thentherest
ofthatrealityhit.“Shit.”
“What’swrong?”heasked,pullingthedooropen.
“RememberhowangryyougotwhenIdidn’tcheckthepeephole?”
“Yeah,”hesaidcautiously.
“Well,thatisgoingtolooklikeatripthroughthedaisiescomparedtohowlivid
myfatherisgoingtobewhenIgethome.”
Hewaggedafingeratme.“Ooh,someone’sgettinggrounded.”
Iswattedhisarmandlaughed.“Shutup.”
Heputhisarmaroundmyshoulders.“See,atleastwhenIpunishyou,yougetsome
funoutofit.”
“I’lladdthatintoyourprocolumn.”
Hegavemeasqueeze.“Good,IneedallthehelpIcanget.”
Ileanedintohimandsighed.Beingtherewithhisarmwrappedaroundmeagainwas
likefindingmycomfortablecornerintheuniverse.Somethinginsidemesmoothedout
whenIwaswithhim.Hethoughthewastheonethatneededhelp.Butreally,itwas
mewhowasintrouble.
BecauseifIfollowedmyhead,IhadafeelingI’dneverfindanyonewhomademefeel
thiswayagain.AndIwouldalwayswonderwhatcould’vebeenifIwalkedawayfrom
him.
ButifIfollowedmyheart,Iwasgoingtoalienatethepeoplewhomeantmosttome
intheworld.
Eitherway,someone’sheartwasgettingbroken.
—
Fosterdroppedmeoffwithapromisetocallmeandtobebackassoonashecould.Ikeptthegood-byebriefandchaste,knowingthatmyparents
wereprobablycrowdedupagainsttheblindsintheirhouse,spyingonus.
ButwhenIopenedmyfrontdoor,Irealizedthetruthwasevenworse.Myfatherwas
sittingonmylivingroomcouch,drinkingacupofcoffeeandstaringoutmyfront
window.He’datleastchangedoutofhispajamasfromlastnightintoapairofjeans
andaRangersT-shirt,butotherwisedidn’tlooklikehe’dsleptorshaved.Hedidn’t
lookmyway.
“Papá,whatareyoudoinghere?”Iasked,tootiredtoevengetangrythathehad
akey.
“Areyouokay,Marcela?”heasked,stillstaringoutthewindow.“Didhehurtyou?”
Iblewoutabreathanddroppedmykeysontothetablebythedoor.“Ofcoursenot.
Foster’safriendandagoodguy.”
“Afriendwhoyoutakeoffwithwearingnexttonothing.Afriendwhodoesn’tbring
youhomeuntilmorning.”Thequietangerrumbledbeneathhiswords.
“Papá,IwasdatingFosterinDallas.Wewereinarelationship.Maybestillare.”
Heturnedtolookatmethen,linesofstrainaroundhiseyes.Inthatmoment,Ifelt
badthathecarriedthatstress,thathefelttheneedtowatchovermesoclosely.
Isawtheagethere,thewearofyearsgonebywhileI’dbeenaway.“Ishewhyyou
weredelayedmovingbackhome?”
Ishiftedonmyfeet,mygazeflittingaway.“Yes.”
“Andwhatareyougoingtodonow,Marcela?Didhecomeheretotrytobringyouback?”
Ihuggedmyelbows,foldinginonmyself,thefearofadmittingthetruthtomyfather
makingashivergothroughme.ButwhatelsecouldIdo?I’dlivedmywholelifetrying
tolandontherightsquaresofhopscotchsoIwouldn’tgetejectedfromthegame,
wouldn’tdisappointmyfamily.Butifwinningthatgamemeantnevertakingarisk,
neverfollowingmyheart,thenIguessIwasfinallypreparedtolose.“IthinkI
lovehim,Papá.”
Ablackcloudseemedtoeclipsehisexpression,chillingthetemperatureintheroom.
Hestood.“Gochangeclothes.We’regoingforaride.”
Istraightened.“What?”
“Ifyoustillhaveanyrespectforme,youwilldoasIaskandcomewithme.”
Iclenchedmyteethtogether,wantingtotellhimthatIwastiredandwasn’tinthe
moodtogoanywhere,butalifetimeofgoodbehaviorwastoodeeplyingrained.Icouldn’t
disrespectmyfather.“I’llbedowninafewminutes.”
—
AnhourlaterwewerepullinguptoaspotIhadn’tbeentoinyears,withasackfullofbreakfasttacosandtallcupsofcoffee.Theviewthrough
thewindshieldmadenostalgiawashthroughme,draggingmebackwardintime.Iglanced
atmydad,waitingforanexplanation.Hehadn’tsaidmuchofanythingtheentire
driveouthere.
Henoddedatthegrease-stainedpaperbag.“Getourbreakfast.Let’sseeifourspot
isstillthere.”
Igrabbedthebagandgotoutofthecar,mytennisshoeshittingthepackeddirt
ofthemakeshiftparkinglot.Infrontofmestretchedalineoftreesthatmarked
theentrancetothenaturepark.ADon’tFeedtheAnimalssignsataskewonawooden
post.Icouldstillseemyselfateight,carryingmybackpackonmyshoulderandwalking
pastthatsign,ponytailswinging.Backthen,mydadhadtirelesslyfedmeinformation
andansweredmyendlessquestionswhilewetraipsedalongthetrail.Whatkindof
birdisthat?HowdoraccoonsalwaysmanagetobreakintotheDumpsters?Wheredo
thesquirrelshideallthoseacorns?Whydoarmadilloslooklikethat?
Thishadbeenourno-one-else-allowedplace.NoMom,noLuz,andnoAndre.Notthat
anyofthemwould’vewantedtocomeanyway.Neitherofmybrothersnormysisterhad
evershownarealinterestinanimalsormyfather’sjoblikeIhad.AndMomwasabout
asoutdoorsyasahouseplant.SothisplacehadbeensacredtomebackwhenIthought
myfatherwasthebestmanintheworldandtimespentwithhimwasaspecialprivilege.
SadnesssettledovermeasIfollowedmydaddownthepath,passingtheoldsign.
Theplacehadn’tchanged.Thetreeshadgottenbiggerandtheunderbrushmoretangled.
Butthescentofwildflowersandmorningdewstillhungintheair.Thehumoflife
buzzedaroundus,asifthebeesanddragonflieswereexcitedthatwe’dfinallyreturned.
Itwasallsofamiliar.Comforting.ButasIlookedaheadatthebackofmyfather,
hisgrayhairsnowmoreprominentthantheinkyblackofallthoseyearsago,his
proudgaitalittlehunched,asenseoflossfilledme.Everythinghasstayedthe
sameexceptus.
Lifehadtarnishedthatdappledsunlitphotographofadotingfatherandthedaughter
thatworshippedhim.Thelongafternoonsofdiscussingthewondersofnatureandthe
animalworldhadshiftedintobuttingheadsandgrowingdistant.Ididn’tevenknow
whothosetwopeoplewereanymore.
Papástoppedatthesmallclearingwheretwopicnictableshadsatforaslongas
Icouldremember.Hesetdownourcoffeesandbentovertocheckbeneaththetables.
Asmiletouchedmylips.Ididn’thavetoaskwhathewasdoing.Eversincetheday
Ihadaveryunfortunateencounterwithapissed-offyellowjacket,mydadhadalways
checkedfornestsbeforewesatdown.
Hestoodandpattedthetopofthetable.“Allclear,mija.”
“Thanks.”Isetthebagdowninthecenterofthetableandclimbedontothebench.
“Youwantthebrisketorthechorizo?”
“Givemeoneofeach.Ihaven’thadtheminalongtime.Yourmamáhasmedrinking
smoothiesinthemorning.Greenones.”
Icockedaneyebrowathim,havingahardtimeimagininghimdrinkingsuchathing.
“Dotheyhavebaconinthem?”
Helaughed.“Iwish.Sheputskale.Haveyoueverheardofsuchathing?”
“IthinkI’drathereatasalad.”Iunwrappedtwotacosforeachofus,spreading
thepaperoutonthetable.
Weateforafewminutes,thechirpingbirdsprovidingthesoundtrack,andIbegan
towonderifweweregoingtosharethewholemealinsilence.Butassoonasmydad
polishedoffthebriskettaco,hetookalongsipofacoffee,thenpinnedmewith
hispatenteddon’t-lie-to-melook.“Soyouthinkyou’reinlove.”
Ipickedatapieceofeggthathadfallenontothegrease-speckledpaper.“Ithink
Imaybe.”
“ButyouwereoutwiththeRuizboylastnightbeforeRomeoshowedup?”
Ifrowned.“HisnameisFoster.Andyes,Iwas,butMichaelandIareonlyfriends.
Iwasoutwithhim…tryingtoforgetaboutFoster.”
Heballedupthewrapperfromhisfirsttacoandtosseditinthebag,histhickbrows
lowoverhiseyes.“Isee.”
Ihuffedabreathandpeeredouttowardthetrees,notsurewhattosaytomydad
tomakehimhaveanysortofunderstanding.
“Youknow,”hesaid,followingmylineofsight,“whenweusedtocomeouthere,I’d
breaktherulesandfeedtheanimals.”
Iturnedtohim.“What?No,youdidn’t.Youwerealwayscareful.Youtoldmewecouldn’t
messwiththeirnaturaldiet.”
Heshookhishead.“Iwouldcarrydriedcorninmypockettodropalongthewayso
thatyou’dgettoseetheanimals.”Hesmiledwarmly,andIcouldtellhewaslooking
backintime,seeingthepastlikeIhadafewminutesago.“Yourlittlefacewould
lightupanytimeyousawthesimplestthing—asquirrel,arobin.Thefewtimeswe
sawadeer,Ithoughtyouweregoingtoexplodewithexcitement.Icouldn’tbearthe
thoughtofusmakingatripouthereandyounotgettingthechancetoseeanything.”
“Papá,”Isaid,theadmissiontouchingme.“Ialwaysthoughtthatwewerelucky,that
theanimalshappenedtolikeus.”
Helookedatmethen,hisdarkeyesalittleglossy.“Wewerelucky,mija.Wehadahappyfamilythen.Ihadkidswhowereonthewaytomakinggoodlives
forthemselves.AndIhadyou,whobysomemiracle,likedthesamethingsIdidand
wantedtowalkinmyfootsteps.Ididn’twantanythingtotouchthatbubble.”
Ituckedmyhandsinmylap,foodforgotten.
“ButIletyoualldown,”hesaid,staringbackoutattheforest.“Iwascockyto
thinknothingwouldchange.IthoughtI’ddonemyjobwellandallwouldbefine.
Butasyouallgotolder,everythingchangedsofast.Allofasudden,Ididn’tknow
howtoconnectwithyouinthesameway.Ibecamesomeonetoarguewithinsteadof
someoneyoucametowithyourproblems.AndIdidn’tknowhowtohandlethat.Iknew
whatdangerslurkedoutthereintheworld,thethingsthatcouldderailgoodkids
fromtheirpath.Butevenknowingit,Icouldn’tseemtostopit.Luzhadsomuch
goingforher,somuchtalent,andlookhowshetossedthataway.Foraboy.Forso-called
love.”
“Shemadeamistake,”Isaidgently.
“Webothdid,anditruinedeverything,”hesaid,abitteredgetohisvoice.“When
Ikickedherout,myhappyfamilybrokeapart.Yourmotherhasnevertrulyforgiven
me.ShewasalreadysadthatMarcohaddecidedtogointothemilitaryandwasso
faraway.ButlosingLuzcrushedher.Shewasneverthesameandneitherwereyou
kids.Youbegantoseemeassomeonetofear,andAndrecouldn’tmoveawayfastenough.
IwenttoLuzafewmonthsafterward,wantingtomakeamendsandhelpher,butshe
wastooangry.Shesaidsheneverwantedtoseemeagain—thatIwasthecoldest,most
horriblefathershecouldeverimagine.”
Iblinked,thenewsashocktome.Luzhadnevermentionedthathe’deverreached
outtoheragain.
“IsworetomyselfthenthatIwouldn’tletanythinglikethathappenagain,that
IwouldmakesureyouandAndredidn’tgetofftrack.”Heshookhishead.“Andhere
weareagain.Allmyadultlife,I’velookedforwardtothedaywhenIcouldwork
sidebysidewithoneofmychildren,whenIcouldpassonthefamilybusinessto
you.IknowI’mtoughonyou,butthelastfewweekshavebeensomeofthehappiest
I’vehadinyears.Toseeyousoconfident,soprofessional.Iswellwithprideevery
timeIseeyournameonthedoornexttomine.”
“Papá,”Iwhispered,tearsgettingcaughtinmythroat.
Hereachedoutandlaidhishandovermine.“Iwantyoutobehappy,mija.ButIalsowantyoutobesuccessfulandfollowthedreamyou’veworkedsohard
for.Nomanisworthgivingthatupfor.Don’tyouthinkyoucanbehappyhere?”
Istareddownatourjoinedhands,hisbigoneswallowingmysmallone,andadesperate,
achingregretpingedthroughme.Nomanwasworthgivingupmyhappinessfor.Not
evenmydad.Islidmyhandfrombeneathhisandbackintomylap.“Papá,Iamso
thankfulforeverythingyou’vegivenmeandallyourguidance.Iwouldn’tbewhere
Iamwithoutyou.You’vebeenagoodfatherandmentortome.Andyouneedtoknow
thatIwouldnevergiveupmycareer.IlovewhatIdo.”
Henodded.“I’mgladtohearit.”
Iliftedmygazetohis.“ButIdon’tknowifIneedtobedoingithere.”
“Oh,Marcela.”Herubbedahandoverhisforehead.
Theanguishinhisvoicealmostdidmein.Abigpartofmejustwantedtomakeit
better,wantedtotellhimwhathehopedtohear.ButI’dspentsolongtryingto
bewhohewantedmetobe,anditwasn’tfairforeitherofusformetokeepdoing
that.Iwantedagoodrelationshipwithmydad,wantedtorecapturethebondweused
tohave.ButIknewthatprobablywouldn’tbepossiblewithourworkingtogetherand
livingsoclose.Hewaswhohewas.Turningoffthatoverbearingsidewouldrequire
apersonalitytransplant.Andthemorehesmotheredme,themoreI’dresenthim.
AndIcouldanalyzetodeathmyfeelingsforFosterandworryaboutthenatureof
ourrelationshipandifitwouldlastandonandon.Butthetruthofthematterwas
thatIlovedhim.Andmaybeitwouldwork.Andmaybeitwouldn’t.ButIwasn’tgoing
tospendmylifeplayingwhatif.Iwantedalifewithpassionandriskandnotknowingwhatwasaroundeverycorner.
Iwantedtobesurprised.
AndifIstayedhere,maybeIcouldbecontentorevenhappy,buttherewouldbeno
surprises.AndtherewouldbenoFoster.
“I’msosorry,”Isaid,silenttearsescaping.“Iloveyousomuch,andIknowI’m
breakingmyword.ButIneedtomakemyownway,Papá.”
Hiseyesheldallthesadnessanddisappointmenthe’dnevertellmeinwords.“Idon’t
approve.”
Inoddedandletmygazefalltothetable,thewordsstinging.
“ButIunderstand.”
Iglancedup.
Hereachedoverandbrushedmytearsawaywithanapkin.“Youwillalwayshaveaplace
tocomebacktoifyouneedit.YourmotherandIwillnevereverturnyouaway.I
wouldn’tmakethatmistakeagain.I’velostonepieceofmyheartwithLuz.Irefuse
toloseanother.”
“Oh,Papá,”Isaid,afull-outweepymessnow.
“Also,youtellthatboythatifhehurtsyou,thenexttimeI’llshootfirstand
askquestionslater.”
Isnortedsomesortofhalfsob,halflaugh,andtookthenapkinfromhimtowipe
mynose.“Andre’salreadythreatenedhim,too.Datingmeisturningouttobeavery
dangerousgig.”
“Isheagoodman,mija?ThisFoster,”heasked,hisseriousfacebackinplace.
“Yes,”Isaid,believingthatdownthedepthsofmybeing.“He’lltakegoodcareof
me.”
Mydadsmiledandgotuptogivemeahug.“That’sallIask.”
Ipressedmyfaceintohisshoulder,holdinghimtight,andletmyselfbethatlittle
girlagain—theonewholovedherfatherunconditionallyandonlysawthewonderful,
spectacularpartsofhim.
Forallhisfaults,myfatherhadgivenmeagoodupbringingandalovinghome.I
wouldalwayslovehim,myfamily,andmyhometown.Theywerepartofthefabricof
whoIwas.Butnowitwastimeformetotakethosethingsandcarrythemforward.
NowitwasmyturntolivethelifeIwanted.
Andthatlifestartednow.THIRTY-NINE
Fosterwasn’tpositivewhenheknewforsure.MaybeitwaswhenBrethadcalledsoearly,andhisnormallytell-it-like-it-isfriendhadn’tbeen
abletogivehimanyinformation.Maybeithadbeentheguarded,too-hightoneof
hervoice.Butwhenshe’dsenthimafollow-uptexttellinghimnottolistentonews
radioonhisdrivebacktoDallas,hehadnodoubtsleft.
EitherNeve’skidnapperhadbeendiscoveredorNevehadbeenfound.AndifBretwasn’t
talking,heknewthattherewasnohappynewswaitingattheendofthisroad.Not
thathe’deverheldouthopethatNevehadmadeitthroughokay.Notafterallthis
time.Buthecouldn’tdenythatasmallsliverofhimhadheldontothenotionthat
maybeshe’dbeenkidnappedbysomeonewho’dwantedachildandthatshehadbeencared
for.It’dbeenastupid,illogicalhope,butit’dalwaysbeensittingtherenestled
deepinhismind.Nowthere’dbenothingthereexceptthedespairofknowingshewas
gone,reallygone.
BythetimehepulleduptothebuildingBrethadgivenhimdirectionsto,he’dgone
fullynumbfromtheinsideout.Anewsvanwasoutfront,whichwouldexplainwhy
Brethadtoldhimtopullaroundback.Heparkedthecar,tookafewbreaths,and
headedinsidelikeamanonhiswaytohisdeathsentence.
Thefluorescentlightsinsidepushedagainsthisalreadyedgysenses,andhegotthe
impressionofwalkingintoamorgueitwassoquietandcold.Beforehecouldmake
hisbrainfunctionandfigureoutwherehewassupposedtogo,Bretwasstridingtoward
him,herfacedrawnandpale.Hecouldn’tremembereverseeingherwithoutmakeup.
Dreadsodeepittookhisbreathmovedthroughhim,leavingicytrailsinitswake.
“Hey,you,”shesaidgently,givinghimaquickhug.“Idon’tevenwanttoknowhow
fastyoudrovetogethere.”
“Justtellme,”hesaidflatly.
Inthedistance,hesawanoldercouplehuddledtogetheronabenchinthehallway.
Thewomanpeeredhisway,ahollowlookinhereyes.Eyesthesamecolorashis.His
motherseemedtolookthroughhim,thenturnedbacktohisfather.
Bretputahandonhisshoulder.“Wefoundtheguy.Wegothim.”
Fostertookinaraggedbreath,absorbingthatinformation.Itdidn’tfeelnearly
asgoodashethoughtitwould.He’dspentmuchofhislifewaitingtohearthose
words,buttheydidn’tofferanysolace.Notwhenhesensedwhatwastofollow.
“AndNeve?”heasked,thequestionlikejaggedglassinhismouth.
Bretgavehisshoulderasqueezeandshookherheadsadly.“I’msorry,hon.Shedidn’t
makeitpastthesecondday.”
Everythingseemedtocrumplearoundhim,collapsinginuntilhecouldn’tevensee
infrontofhim.Heleanedagainstthewallandsanktothefloor.
—
Irolledmysuitcasebehindme,alreadyfeelingguiltyforimposingwhenIknockedonthedoor.WhenI’dgotteninthecarthismorning,this
hadseemedlikeawiseidea,butnowIwasstartingtowonderifIshould’vegiven
itmorethought.OratleasttalkedtoFosterfirst.
Butafterthreedaysofnothearingfromhim,Iwasdonewaitingaroundformylife
tostart.Ofcourse,thatrah-rah-you-go-girlpeptalkhadonlylastedafewhours
intomytripfromVerdePass.Myinternalcheerleaderhadfallenoffthetopofthe
pyramidandlostherpom-pomssomewherearoundSanAntonio.
Thedoorswungopen,andmybrotherfilledthedoorway,smilingdownatme.“Well,
ifitisn’tmyhomelesssister.”
Irolledmyeyes.“Shutup.I’mnothomeless.Ihaveahouse.”
“Justnothere,”hepointedout.
“Notyet.”
Hesteppedinsideandswepthisarmtowardhisloft.“NeverletitbesaidthatI
don’thelpthoseinneed.”
Isaunteredpasthim,rollingmybagbehindmeandwishingthatBaileydidn’tlive
inadorm.Ilovedmybrother,butI’dspentenoughtimeunderthesameroofwith
himtolastalifetime.Plus,Ididn’twanttobeintheway.Theyalreadyhadapretty
crowdedhousehold.AndI’dgottenthevibewhenIaskedAndreifIcouldcrashhere
forafewdaysthathewashesitant.IturnedtoAndreanddidamockcurtsyandhead
bow.“Iwillforeverbeindebted,dearbrother.”
Jace,whowasonthecouchwithhislegsproppeduponthecoffeetableandagame
controllerinhand,gavemeaquickgrin.“Hey,dollface.Don’tletthatassholemake
youfeelunwelcome.Youcanstayhereaslongasyouneed.”
“DidIsayshewasunwelcome?”Andresaid,walkingpastmeandtuggingmyponytail
beforetakingmysuitcasefromme.“Mydoorisalwaysopen.”
“Uh-huh,”Isaid,notquitebuyingit.
Hestrolledofftowardthestairsandthebedroomsonthesecondlevel.Jacepaused
hisgameandturnedaround,smirkinplace.“Yourealizewhyhe’sfreakedout,right?”
“Becausemestayinghereisapaintheass,”Ioffered.
“Nah.”JaceglancedupatwhereAndrehaddisappeared.“Heknowsyouknowaboutthe
threeofus,buthe’safraidofyouseeingit.Knowingandwitnessingaretwodifferentthings.Ithinkhe’safraidthefabric
ofyourveryexistencewillsplitintwo.”
“Oh,comeon.Seriously?”Ifrowned.“It’snotlikeIhaven’talreadyseenhimkissing
Evan.”
Jacetiltedhishead,givingmethecome-on-nowlook.
“Okay,yes,it’sgoingtobedifferentseeingPDAsbetweenthetwoofyou.Butseriously,
Ihavenoissuewithanyofit.Iwanthimtobehappy.”
“Good,thenwe’regoingtogetthisshitoutofthewayrightnow,becauseEvan’s
outoftownonajobfortheweekend,andIdon’twantDrewalkingaroundwithhis
shortsinaknot.”
IhadnoideawhathemeantbythatbuthadafeelingIwouldn’tbewonderingfor
long.
Andrecamebackdownstairsafewminuteslater.Hecrookedhisthumbbehindhim.“I
wentaheadandsetyouupinmyroom.”
“Oh,youdidn’thavetodothat.Icantakethecouch.”
“It’snotaproblem,”Andresaidquickly.
“But—”
“Hedoesn’tsleepinthereanymore,”Jacesupplied.“Soreally,don’tstress.”
Andre’sgazenarrowedasheturnedtohim.“Jace.”
“What?”Jaceasked,allwide-eyedinnocence.“It’snotlikeshedoesn’tknow.”
Andrescrapedahandthroughhisdarkhair,andtheremayhavebeenahintofcolor
inhischeeks.Ihadtobitemyliptokeepfromlaughing.Itwasararedaytosee
thegreatAndreMedinaembarrassed.
“Let’sjustnotgothere,allright?”Andresaid,histoneholdingwarning.
That’sallittook.Jacewaspushinghimselfoffthecouchandheadingmybrother’s
way.Theswitchfromlaid-back,fun-lovingJacetothisversionkindoftookmybreath
forasecond.Irecognizedthatlook.ItwasthelookFostergavemewhenhewasabout
toissueacommand.Oh,shit.Alittleshiverwentthroughme—likemybodyknewhow
topickupapredatorinitsmidst.
Andre’sdarkeyeswentalittlewideasJacesteppedinfrontofhimandclampeda
handaroundthebackofhisneck.
“J,don’t.”
ButJacewasalreadyleaningintokisshim.Thesightofthetwoofthemwasalittle
hardformybraintoprocess.Ofcourse,I’dseentwoguyskissbefore.Butnottwo
Iknewsowell.JaceandAndrehadbeenbestfriendsforsolong—bros,dudes.And
bothwereaboutasalphamaleasanyguycouldget.Theyfitintothesecertainboxes
inmyhead.Boxesthathadn’tincludedthis.Butitwashardtodenythesweetness
therebetweenthemasJacetookthekissandcajoledAndreintoreturningit.Soon,
asifforgettinghe’dprotestedamomentbefore,Andrerelaxedintoit,hishandgoing
toJace’shipandmovinghimcloser.
WhenJacefinallypulledback,Andreblinked,seemingtocomebackintohimself,then
scowled.“Dammit,J.”
“Nowthattheawkwardisoutoftheway,”Jacesaid,turningandheadingbacktoward
thecouchwithapleasedgrin,“who’sgoingtochallengemeinMarioKart?”
Andrepeekedmywayasifbracingfortheimpactofmyreaction,butIwastoobusy
smiling.“Wow,youguysareperfectforeachother.I’veneverseenanyoneshutyouup,Dre.”
Andrestaredatmeforamomentthenmatchedmysmile,hisstanceloosening.“Evan’s
prettygoodatleavingmespeechless,too.”
Iwalkedovertohimandgavehimahug.“I’mhappyforyou.Really.We’vebothtried
toliveforotherpeoplealongtime.Triedtobewhowethoughtweweresupposed
tobe.Frankly,I’mfreakingsickofit.”
Heheldmetohim,puttinghischinontopofmyhead.“Whenyou’dgettobesosmart?”
“Well,I’vealwaysbeensmarterthanyou,”Iteased.
Andrehuffedalaughandleanedbackfromthehug,puttinghishandsonmyshoulders.
“True.Sothentellme,whyismysmart,eminentlylevelheadedsisterbackintown
withnojobandnoplacetolive?”
Ismirked.“AreyougoingtoyellatmeifItellyouit’sforaguy?”
“IanFoster,”hesaid,histonegoingalittlegrave.
“Yes.Anddon’tgivemethatlook,”Isaid,juttingmychinupward.“Ilovehim,Dre.
Andhelovesmeback.Idon’twanttowalkawayfromthat.”
Heblewoutabreathandloweredhisarmstohissides.“Well,Iimagineifthat’s
thecase,hecouldreallyuseyouherewithhimrightnow.”
Mybrowsknitted.“Whatareyoutalkingabout?”
“Youhaven’ttalkedtohim?”
“No,hewasgoingtocallme.Hehadsomethingtotakecareof,butIdecidedtocome
hereandsurprisehiminstead.”
Hisfrowndeepened,increasingtheforebodingvibesgoingthroughme.“Oh,Cela,I
thoughtyouknew.It’sbeenalloverthelocalnewshere.”
Mystomachdroppedtomyfeet.“Whathas?”
“Theyarrestedachildserialkiller.They’vepinnedatleastfifteenmissingchildren
casesonhimfromthelasttwodecadesallovertheSouth.HeconfessedtotheFoster
girl’skidnapping,rape,andmurder.”
Iputmyhandovermymouth,horrorbleedingthroughmeandmakingeverythinggoicy
cold.“OhmyGod.”
“TheyinterviewedtheparentsonTVforaminutelastnight,butIhaven’tseenFoster
onanywhere.Evenmyprecincthasbeenbuzzingwithcallsaboutcoldcasesfromall
overtheplacewhowanttoknowmoreaboutthisguy.Thedetailsofthecrimesare
prettygruesome,Cela.Ican’timaginewhatthefamilymustbegoingthrough.”
WhatFostermustbegoingthrough.Hisworstnightmarehadcometofruition.Nausea
rolledthroughme.“Ineedtogo.Ineedtoseehim.”
Andrenoddedwithsympathy.“Sure,okay,butbecareful,babygirl.Ifhehasn’tcalled
you,theremaybeareason.Hemaywant—”
ButIwasn’tevenlistening.Iwasalreadyretracingmystepsbacktothedoorand
grabbingmypurse.Imadeitouttotheparkinglotonhigh-speedautopilot.
AssoonasIslidinmycar,IpickedupmyphoneandhitDial.Pikeansweredonthe
firstring.“Doc.”
“I’mintown.Whereishe?”Iaskedwithoutpreamble.
“ThankfuckingChrist,”hesaid,hisvoicefilledwithrelief.“He’sathome,and
Idon’thaveacluewhattodowithhim.I’veneverseenhimlikethis.He’sshut
downcompletely—likesomeemotionless,T-1000versionofhimself.Andhe’stalking
aboutclosinghisbusiness,sayingitdoesn’tmeananythinganymore.Ican’tseem
togetanysensethroughhisthickskull.Anddon’tevengetmestartedonhisfucking
parents.Ifeelhorribleforwhatthey’vebeenthrough,butthey’veignoredFoster
throughallofthis.Likehedoesn’texist.”
Myribsfeltliketheywerecinchingtighter,acorsetofgriefsqueezingeverything
togetherandmakingithardtobreathe.“I’mcomingover.”
“Good.I’lltakeallthehelpIcanget.”
Imadeittomyoldbuildinginrecordtime,mybrainandbodyoperatingwithasingular
focus.Get.To.Foster.PikeletmeinwithoutawordandcockedhisheadtowardFoster’s
bedroom.
“DidyoutellhimIwascoming?”
“No.HejustcamehomealittlewhileagofromanothermeetingwiththeFBIandwent
straightintohisroom.”
Itookashakybreath.“Wishmeluck,then.”
“You’llprobablyneedit,doc.Hehatestheworldrightnowandeveryoneinit.”
“Howcouldhenot?”
Pikenoddedgrimly.“Yeah.”
IsetmypursedownonthecounterandheadedtowardFoster’sroom.Hemayhatethe
world,butIlovedhim.AndI’dwaitedfartoolongtotellhimthat.
Iknockedonthedoor.FORTY
Therewasnoansweronthefirstknock,soIrappedthedooragain.
??Fuckoff,Pike.I’mbusy.”
Iwetmylips.“It’sCela.”
Therewassilenceontheothersideforalongfewseconds.Istartedtowonderif
he’dheardme,butthenthedooropened.
Fosterstoodthere,cleanshavenandputtogetheronthesurface,butwhenImethis
eyesIsawthehollownessthere.“Whatareyoudoinghere?”
Histonewasflat,andIhadtoswallowpasttheanxietyofbarginginonhimwhile
hewasgoingthroughallofthis.MaybeIwasoverstepping,maybeourrelationship
wasmoreofafun,sexything,andIwasn’twelcomeintohisworldforthebigthings
likegriefandtragedyandloss.Insecuritymademewanttoshrinkback,butIpressed
on,clearingmythroat.“Iwantedto…”
“Sayyou’resorry?Offeryourcondolences?”
Thewordsweresharpandhisgriptightonthedoor,butIrecognizedthismode.The
daggereyes,themovementsthatseemedbothlikeaggressionandretreatwrappedinto
one.I’dseenittimeandagainwithanimalswhentheywereinjured.Eventhesweetest,
gentlestpetcouldturnintoafire-breathinghoundfromhellwhenitwashurt.Bad
newsforFosterwasthatIwouldn’tbescaredoffbyit.Thoseweretheanimalsmost
inneedofhelp.
Isquaredmyshoulders.“Iamsorry.Soverysorry,Foster.ButIcamehereforyou.Tohelpwithwhateveryou
mightneed.”
Hescoffed.“Help.Likethere’sanythinganyonecando.She’sdead,Cela.Mybeautiful,
innocentbabysister,rapedandmurderedbythatfuckingmonster.”Utteranguishcrumpled
hisfeaturesforamomentbeforehepulledhisexpressionbacktoitshardedge.“All
becauseIgavehimopportunity.Itookmyeyesoffofher,andhetookher.So,unlessyouhaveatimemachinetogofixthat,thereisnogoddamnedhelp
tobehad.”
Iclosedmyeyes,thedespairofhiswords,thelifesentencehe’dassignedhimself
makingmephysicallyhurtforhim.
“So,gohome.It’snotagoodtime.”
HemovedtoclosethedoorandIsteppedforward,myhandsmackingthewoodasIblocked
itfromshutting,andstrodepasthim.“Well,that’stoobadbecauseifyouwantme
toleave,you’regoingtohavetocarrymeout.AndImaykickandscream.Justwarning
you.”
Heturned,hisfacegoingblankforamomentatmydeclaration,thenannoyed.“What
thehell?”
“You’regrievingandyou’reangry.Iunderstandthat.Butnow’snotthetimetobe
alone.”
“Thehellit’snot.”
“Iloveyou.”
Hestilled.“What?Cela,no,Ican’tdealwiththisrightnow…”
Ididn’tletthatresponsedeterme.Iknewhelovedme,he’dtoldme—evenifhecouldn’t
quiteaccessthatemotionrightnow.Mygazeflickedtowardtheopendoor,acrazy
ideapoppingintomyhead.Lasttimewhenhe’dtriedtopushmeaway,I’dlethim.
He’dneededanoutletforhisanger,hisanxiety,andI’dlefthimtocallsomeother
woman.
Nowaythatshitwashappeningagain.Ilovedhim.Andthatmeantallparts.Even
themeansidethatcameoutwhenhishurtorfeartookover.
Iputmyfingerstothetopbuttonofmyshirt,slippingitoutofthehole.
Hiseyesfollowedthemovementofmyhands.“Whatareyoudoing?”
Icaughthisstareandwentforthenextbutton.“ItoldyouI’mhereforwhatever
youneed.I’mtough.Takewhateveritisgoingoninsideyouandletitoutonme.”
“What?”Hisvoicewasalowroar.
“Flogme,spankme,fuckme.Idon’tcare.Takeallofthatcrapyouhaveraginginside
ofyouandletitout.Givemeyouranger…sir.”Iletmyshirtfalltotheground.
“Putyourgoddamnedclotheson,Cela,”hesaid,rakingahandthroughhishairlike
amanonthebrink.“Youdon’tneedtobearoundmerightnow.Idon’ttrustmyself.”
Iwentforthebuttononmyshortsandtuggedthemoff,myheartbeatlikeahummingbird’s
wingsflappingagainstmyribs.“Ido.”
“You’refuckingoutofyourmind,then.”Heglancedattheopendoorasifjustrealizing
IwasexposedifPikewalkedbyandslammedthedoorshut.“Youthinksexisgoing
tofixthis?Fixme?”
Idiscardedmybraandpanties,mybodyquakingfromtheriskIknewIwastaking.
Itwasliketauntingacagedanimalwhowasreadytotearapartitsnextvictim.I
stoodtherestarknakedinfrontofhimandpulledmyhairfromthebandthatheld
myponytail.
“No,Idon’tthinksexwill.Butowningmemight.”Iloweredtomyknees.“Giveme
yourworst,Foster.Iwon’tsayno.AndIwon’trunaway.”
Helacedhishandsbehindhishead,andIcouldseetheutteragonythere,thestruggle.
“Don’tsaythingslikethat.It’salie.Everybodyleaves,Cela.Everybody.Anytime
thingsseemlikethey’regoingtobeokay,lifefuckingblindsidesyou.Andyou’ll
benodifferent.WhyshouldIdeservetohaveyouanyway?Icouldn’teventakecare
ofmyownfamily.”
Myfingerscurledatmysides,mywholebeingyearningtoreachouttohimandhold
him,reassurehim.ButIknewthatitwoulddonogood.Everyinstinctinsidemetold
meheneededanoutletforallthisemotion,actionnottalking.“I’mnotgoinganywhere,
soIguessyou’regoingtohavetomakeme.”
HestareddownatmelikeI’dbeenreplacedbysomepodperson.“Didyounothearme?Can’tyouseeI’mfuckeduprightnow?IfItouchyou,I’llhurtyou.Get.Out.”
Onasurgeofbraveryandpureemotion,Ipushedtomyfeetandshovedhimhardin
thechest—likeIwaspickingsomeschoolyardfight.Surprisewasonmyside,andI
managedtoknockhimbackastep,hisshoulderhittingthedoor.“Isaidmakeme.”
Heblinked,momentarilystunnedintosilence,thenoutrageleakedintothoseblue
eyes.Hegrabbedmebythearms,hisfingerslikevicegripstothesoftfleshthere,
andspunmeuntilmybackwasagainstthedoor.Hismouthcamedownhardagainstmine
inaclashoflipsandteeth.Igaspedintothekissandopenedtohim,stillscared
forwhatImayhavegottenmyselfintobutreadytohelphimexorcisethedemons.
Bruisesandbiteswouldheal.Icouldhandlehisroughness.ButIrefusedtoaccept
thecoldness,thedistance,theshuttingdown.
I’dfalleninlovewithapassionate,beautifulman,andIwasn’tgoingtoletthat
manbeanothervictimofthekillerwho’dtakenhissister.
Foster’skisswashungryandviolentandlikenothinghe’devershownmebefore.I
couldfeelthefuryandfrustrationrumblingthroughhim.Hereleasedmyarmsfrom
thedeathgripandtangledhisfingersinmyhairashedeepenedthekiss,taking,
taking,taking.Iwasbreathlessandpantingwhenhefinallywrenchedaway.“Make
you,huh?Youwantmyworst.Youmayregretthatinaminute.”
“Noregrets,sir.”
Thatseemedtomakehimangrier,histeethclenching.Withoutfinesse,hepushedme
downtomykneesviathetightholdhestillhadonmyhairandunbuttonedhisjeans
withhisfreehand.Iresistedtheurgetograbformyheadandrubmystingingscalp.
“Youthinkyoucanmakeitallbetter,angel?Thinkagoodcocksuckingcanfixit
all?”
Thewordsweremeanttobecrudeandugly.Hewastryingtomakemehatehim,tomake
meleave,toprovehimselfright.ButallIheardwasthathe’dcalledmeangelfor
thefirsttimetonight.Andifhethoughtforcingmetogivehimablowjobwasa
hardship,hedidn’tknowjusthowgoodasubmissivehe’dtrained.Mybodywasalready
respondingtohiscommands.AndIwantednothingmorethantoofferhimsomesort
ofpleasuretobreakupallthattormenthe’dbeensufferingthrough.
Ireachedout,yankingdownhisboxersandpants,andsmiledinwardly.Despitehis
angerandallofhisprotests,hewashardandproud,readyforme.BeforeIcould
leanforwardtotakehim,hetightenedhisgriponmyhairandguidedhiscockinto
mymouth,settingthepace,holdingontoallthecontrol.
Igotthemessage.Iwashistousehoweverhewanted.Hewouldoffermenokindness
rightnowbecauseI’dgoadedhimintothis.PerhapsIshould’vemindedthat.Oldme
would’vethoughttoobject.Butthemovesentabuzzthroughmybrain,activating
allthoselovelythingsthatsubmissionseemedtobringwithit.Ihummedwithpleasure
asthetipofhiscocktouchedthebackofmythroat.
“That’sright.Makethoseprettysounds.Youlikebeingusedlikemywhore?”Foster
askedthroughgrittedteeth.“Becausethat’swhatyou’reaskingforrightnow.”
Thewordwhorewould’vecutmedeepafewmonthsago.Heknewthat.Andarushofirewentthrough
me.Hardheadedbastard.Hewasworkingreallyhardtorunmeoff.Buthewasn’tgoing
towinthisbattle.Ididn’tbelievehisbullshit.Iliftedmygazetohis,determined,
androlledmytonguearoundtheheadofhiscock,teasingandtorturing.Seducing.
“Fuck.”Hepulledoutandsteppedback,hishandstillinmyhair.Ismiledupat
him,challenginghim.Hismouththinnedintoafirm,pissed-offline.“Getonthe
bed.Onyourbelly.We’llseehowlongyoucanholdthatsmile.”
“Yes,sir,”Isaid,quitedemurely,embracingallthebrattinessthatIhadinme.
“You’renotgoingtobreakme.Yourealizethat,right?”
Hiseyesflared—partfury,partunfetteredanimalisticlust.“Oh,isthatright?”
Hegraspedmebythebackoftheneckandmarchedmeovertothebed,bendingmeover
thesideofit.Hishandcamedownhardonmyassandthighsinaquick,viciousvolley
ofsmacks.Icriedout,unabletoholdbackthereaction,butholdingstillnonetheless,
refusingtoshowanyweakness.
“You’resobravenow,isthatit?Youthinkafewtimeswithmeandyoucanhandle
whateverIdishout?”Hespankedmeagain,rightontopofafreshmark.Ibitthe
insideofmycheek.“YouhavenoideawhatI’mcapableofrightnow,havenoidea.”
“Iloveyou,”Isaidsoftly.
“Goddammit,Cela.Stopsayingthat,”hesaid,hisvoicestrangled.
“No,sir.”
HestalkedoffandIheardtheclosetdooropening.Ibracedmyself,knowingthat
I’dpushedhimevenfurther.Iwasplayingwithfirenearapropanetank,andweboth
knewit.Theairshiftedbehindme,acoolbreezecoastingovermyburningskinas
hemovedbackinplace.Thenwhateverhe’dgrabbedwascomingdownonmyback—biting,
wickedlashes.Somethinghehadn’tusedonmebefore,abeltofsomesortmaybe.One!Two!Three!Ilostcountafterthat,mythoughtsblurringattheedgesasadrenalinepumpedhard
throughmyveins.
Ipressedmycheekintothesheets,myeyesstartingtowater.Icouldn’ttellif
theyweretearsornot.Ididn’tcare.Icouldfeeltheemotionbehindeveryswing,
thedesperationchannelingthroughhim.Everythingtrappedinsidehimwaspouring
outintotheblows.
Wham,wham,wham!
Finally,afterwhatseemedlikeforever,Isensedthestrengthbehindthehitsdraining.
Myskinwasaragingfire—half-burning,half-numb.Buteverythingelseinmewassoaring,
endorphinsfloodingmysystem.I’ddonethistopushhimtoacertainplace,buthe
wassendingmetoanotheredgeofmyown.
“Christ,Cela,”hesaid,thebeltdroppingtothefloor.Hisbreathwaslabored.I
couldfeelhisstareheavyagainstme.Heranhishandsovermyabusedback,first
simplytouching,thenkissing.Onespotinparticularmademeflinchmorethanthe
others.“Tellmeyou’restillwithme.Thatyou’reokay.”
Ireachedbackforhimblindly,grabbingholdofhishand.Eventhatmovementtook
allmyeffort.Ifelt…drunk.Andsofreakingturnedon.“Very,verywithyou.”
Hemovedhishandbetweenmythighs,findingmewarmandwet,andgroaned.“Sogoddamned
sexy.Allthispain,andyou’returnedon.Spreadyourlegs.”
Imadetheeffort,buthehadtohelpmemostoftheway.Iwasstillbentoverthe
bedinthepronepositionandreallyhadnoenergytomoveanywhereelse.Therewas
theshiftingoffabricasheapparentlyshuckedtherestofhisclothes,thenhis
palmswerespanningmyhips.Withoutpreamble,hepushedintome
Igroanedatthefeelofhimfillingme,ofmybodyclenchingaroundhim.Heburied
deep,atremblegoingthroughhishandswhereheheldme—likehewasdrowninginthe
sensationasmuchasIwas.Thelastofmywillslippedaway.Iwastrulyhisinthat
moment,whateverhewantedtodowithme,Iwasin.
Heeasedbackandthrustintomeagain,hard,histhighshittingthebacksofmine,
reactivatingtheburnthere,butalsorockingmyclitagainsttheedgeofthemattress—a
killercombination.Iwhimperedintothesheets.“IknowitstingsandthatIshould
besofterwithyourightnow.ButIneedtofuckyou,angel.Youunderstand?”
“Yes,sir.”
“YoutoldmeIownedyoutonight,andI’mgoingtotakeyouatyourword,”hesaid,
straininhisvoiceasherockedintomewithasteady,roughrhythm.“Tellmeyou’re
mine.”
“I’myours,”Igasped,releasethunderingtowardme,thestimulationtomyclitand
therushingendorphinsalmosttoomuchtotake.“Allyours.”
“That’sright,”hesaid,hiswordslabored.“Givemeyourpleasure.Showmehowmuch
youlikemeusingyou.”
Mynailscurledintomypalms,everymoleculeinmybodystartingtoquake,butI
wastryingtoholdoutaslongaspossible.“Foster…”
Hecaughtholdofmywristsandpulledmyarmsbehindmyback,holdingthematmy
tailbone,ashecontinuedhispunishingrhythm.Icoulddonothingbutreceivehim
andeverybitofpleasurehewaswringingfromme.Sweatdrippeddownmytemple,and
withnothingtoholdonto,Ifellapart.
Wretchedcriestorefrommythroataseverypartofmybodyseemedtobecomelaced
withlightning—thesensitizedskinonmyback,myclitagainstthepressureofthe
bed,andthedeliciousfullnessofbeingutterly,brutallytakenbyFoster.Tears
leakedoutmyeyesminglingwiththesaltandsweat,andeverythingwenthazy.
Fosterletoutaslewoffilthy,dirtyepitaphsandthenletlooseagrinding,primal
groanasheburiedhimselftothehiltandspilledinsideme,hisholdonmywrists
tighteninguntilmyfingersstartedtotingle.
Whenwewerebothgaspingforbreath,driftingdownfromourorgasm,hereleasedmy
handsanddrapedhimselfovermyback.Allofmymusclesseemedtogiveoutandmerge
withthebed.Iwasn’tsureI’deverbeabletogetthemtofunctionagain.
Fosterkissedmytemple,myhair,hisbodyblanketingmewithheatthatwasbotha
blessingandacurse.BlessingbecauseIcouldn’tseemtostopshivering,butcurse
becausenowthattheorgasmwasfading,thepainfromthebeltwassettingin.
Afterafewlongseconds,Fosterpusheduponhisforearms.“Sorry,angel.I’mprobably
smotheringyou.”
“Mmm,”Imumbled,toospenttoformactualwords.Mymindstillseemedtobesparking
infitsandstarts—aftershocks.
Fosterliftedhimselffromthebedandpulledout.Arushofliquidheatcamewith
him,slidingdownmythighs.IknewIshouldprobablygetupandgetatowelorsomething—vaguely,
inthebackofmymindIregisteredthatthesewerenewsheets.Butsomethingabout
havingtheevidenceofwhathadjusthappenedmarkingmeseemedsexyanddirtyin
thebestway.
“Motherfucker,”Fostersaid,theharshwordcuttingthroughmyafterglow.
“What’swrong?”
“I’msorry,angel.”FostertouchedaspotonmyshoulderandIflinched.“Ifucking
drewblood.”
Iturnedmyheadtolookbackathim.Hisfingertipsweresmearedwithblood.Heglanced
downhischest,findingastreakofredthere,too.Whenhelookedoveratme,regret
morphedhisfeatures.Iletmyheadsinkbackintothebed.“I’msureI’lllive.”
“Goddammit,”hesaid,obviouslymoredisturbedbythisturnofeventsthanIwas.
“Ijust—fuck—whatiswrongwithme?YoutauntmeandIunleashonyou,tramplingover
limitswehaven’tevendiscussed.Ishould’venever—”
“Don’tyoudaretakeasecondofthisback,”Isaid,cuttinghimoffwithwhatlittle
energyIcouldmuster.“OrIwillpersonallykickyourass—well,whenIhavetheability
tomoveagain.Itoldyoutodowhatyouwanted.Andyoudid.Nowyou’rejustraining
onmyafterglow.”
Heletoutalong,belaboredbreath.“Don’tmove.I’mgoingtogetyoucleanedup
andthenthere’sabathtubwithournamesonit.”
—
Anhourlater,IwascurledupinFoster’sbed,mellowandsated.He’dgentlycaredforme,bathingme,thentreatingthespotwheretheskin
hadbrokenandrubbingsalveontherest.Twoibuprofenhadbeenswalloweddown,the
curtainshadbeendrawntight,andnowIwasreadyforanap.Buteventhoughhis
backwastome,IcouldsenseFoster’srestlessness.
Wehadn’ttalkedmuchaftersex,andIwastryingtoleavehimbe.I’dpushedenough
today.ButtherewasalsonowayIwasgoingtodriftoff,knowinghewasstillso
tensenexttome.Ireachedoutandtouchedhiship.“Youokay?”
Hedidn’trespondatfirst,butthenreachedbackandlacedhisfingerswithmine.
“Idon’tknowwhatIam,angel.”
“That’sunderstandable.Ican’timaginewhatyou’vebeenthroughtheselastfewdays.”
HepulledmyhandoffhishipanddrewitaroundhisfrontsideuntilIwasalmost
spooninghim.Hetracedmyknuckleswithhisfingertip.“IthoughtIwouldfeelbetter
onceIknew.Ithoughtitwouldhelp.”
Ipressedmylipstothebackofhisshoulder.
“Butknowingallthathappenedtoher…”Ashudderworkedthroughhim.“Ican’t
even…”
“Trynottothinkaboutthatstuff,”Isaidsoftly.“Rememberherasshewas.”
Hedrewmeevenclosertohim,likehewasholdingontoaledge.Afteradeepbreath
hesaid,“Youknow,earlierthatsameyear,Igotthefluforthefirsttime.God,
itwasawful.Ididn’tthinkI’deverfeelgoodagain.Thatwholeweekwassomiserable.”
Istayedquiet,notsurewherehewasgoing,butknowingthattalkingwasmovingin
therightdirection.I’dlistentohimalldayandnightifthatcouldmakehimfeel
better.
“Myparentshadwarnedhertostayoutofmyroom,toldhershe’dgetsick,too.But
Nevedidn’tlisten.Shewouldsneakintomyroomeachmorningbeforekindergarten
andtrytocheermeup.‘Idon’twantyoutobesadnomore,E,’she’dsayinthat
perkylittlevoiceofhers.That’swhatshecalledme—E.ShethoughtIanwastoolong.”
Hisvoicecaught,andittookamomentbeforehecontinued.“Onedayshedressedup
inherdanceclassoutfitandsangDebbieGibsonsongs,anothershecookedmemyfavorite
dinnerwithherplayfoodsinceIcouldn’tmanagetoeatanyrealmeals.Shewaslike
thisjoyoustornadoofglitterandgiggles.”
Tearsstungmyeyes.“Shesoundsamazing.”
“Shewas,”hesaid,hisvoicepained.“Andthathorribledaylaterthatsummer,I
toldmybubblylittlesistertogoaway,thatshewasannoyingme.Allshewanted
todowasspendtimewithmeandmyfriends,andItreatedherlikeshewasabrat.
Thatwasthelastthingsheheardfrommebefore…beforeshewas,God…”
“Oh,Foster,”Isaid,myheartrippingintwoforhim,forhisfamily,forthatbright
littlegirlwhotheworldwouldnevergettheprivilegeofknowing.“Don’t.”
Hisbodybegantojerkwithhardsobs.“Iledherrighttohim,rightintohissick
fuckinghands…”
Itightenedmyholdonhim,mytearsdrippingandslidingdownmycheeks,asFoster
brokeapart.“No,Foster,notyou.Him.Thatsicko.Whathappenedwasn’tyourfault,
baby.Itwashisfault.”
Fostershookhisheadagainstthepillow,buthewaspastwordsnow.Everythingthat
hadbeenlockedinsidehimseemedtorushoutinadeluge.Hisbodywrackedwiththe
forceofhisgrief.Igrabbedholdofhimandrolledhimover,wrappinghiminmy
armsandholdinghimagainstme.Hedidn’tfightit.Gonewasthebravado,thetough
man,andallthatwasleftwasthelittleboywho’dmadeasimplemistakeandsuffered
theworstofconsequences,aboythat’dbeenabandonedbyhisparentsforit.
Icriedsilentlywithhim,hispainbecomingmyown,anddidn’tletgo.
Iwouldneverletgoagain.FORTY-ONE
Fosterscannedthroughhisemail,notfeelingverymotivatedbutatleastfeelingsomewhathumanagain.Celahadrefusedtoleavehissidefor
thelastweekandhadevenhelpedhimmakeitthroughhissister’smemorialservice.
Atfirst,hehadprotestedhergoing,buttryingtotalkheroffthatwasliketrying
totalkabrickwallintocrumbling.Andintheend,he’dbeenhappytohaveherthere.
Hisparentshadattendedandthey’dtalkedwithhimbriefly—likeavaguelypolite
businessrelationship—butCelahadn’tletthemgetawaywiththebrush-off.She’d
corneredhismomanddad,tellingthemhowsorryshewas,ofcourse,butalsosharing
howinspiredshewasby4NandFoster’sworkformissingchildren.She’dthrownin
afew,“Youmustbesoproudofthemanhe’sbecome”typecomments.
It’dmadehisparentsvisiblyuncomfortable,andhe’devencaughtaflashofregret
crosshisfather’sface.But,tohissurprise,hismotherhadreallylookedathimforthefirsttimeinyears,herblueeyesholdingremorseforsomuchtime
lost,andsaid,“Iam.Morethanheknows.Fosterhasprobablysufferedmorethan
anyofusforallofthis.”
Ithadn’tbeenanapology,buttheacknowledgementhadclosedsomegapsinsidehim.
Nomatterwhathe’ddone,whatmistakeshe’dmade.Hehadn’tdeservedtobeleftbehind.
Nochilddeservedthat.
Celasteppedupbehindhim,layingherhandsonhisshouldersanddragginghimout
ofhisthoughts.Sheleanedovertopeekathislaptop.“What’chaworkingon?”
“Therearesomebuyersinterestedinthecompany.I’msettingupmeetings.”
“Stillstuckonthat,huh?”sheasked,heropinionclearinhertone.
Hesighed.He’dcomealongwayinthelastfewdays,buthestilldidn’tthinkhe
couldspendtherestofhisliferunning4N.He’dstartedthecompanyforNeve,and
noweverydayhewentin,he’dberemindedofhowhe’dfailedher.Howhe’dnever
beabletohelpheroraddagold“found”plaquebeneathherphotoonthewall.It
allseemedso…pointlessnow.“Ithinkit’sforthebest.”
“Canyoutakeabreakfromit?”sheasked,steppingaroundhimandsinkingontohis
lap.“Ithoughtallthreeofuscouldbustoutofthesewallsandgoouttonight.
Pikehasticketstoaswankyrecordreleaseparty.”
Hefrowned.“Idon’tthinkI’mreadyforanyparties,angel.”
“Comeon,”sheprotested.“Therewillbealcoholandwecangetalldressedup.It
willdoyougoodtogetoutforawhile.Plus,IhaveadressBaileylentmethat
showsalotofleg.”
Thepleadinglookonherfacewasmorethanhecouldhandle.Somuchforthedomhaving
allthepower.Onelooklikethatandhewasfuckingtoast.Hepushedherhairbehind
herearsandcuppedherface.“Fine.Butonlybecauseyoupromisedmeleg.”
Shelaughedandkissedhim.“Good.Nowgoputonasuit,soIcandrooloveryouall
night,too.”
Hesmiled,evenwithallthesadnessstillsittingonhisshoulders,Celacouldmanage
tocheerhimup.“You’regettingmightybossy,slavegirl.”
“Noworries.Youcanpunishmelater.”
“Brat.”
“Youknowit.”
—
Celawaswaytooexcitedaboutthisparty.Fosterwastryinghisbesttobepeppy,butreally,he’dbeentotheserecordshindigswithPikebefore
andhadneverbeenallthatimpressed.Hopefully,heandCelacouldhaveafewdrinks,
stayforanhour,andheadbackhome.
PikehadlinedupalimoandhadaskedCela’sfriendBaileytocomewiththem.The
girlseemedabsolutelybesideherselfsittingnexttoPike—herhandsconstantlysmoothing
thematerialofherdress,andhergazeregularlysneakingovertoherdate.Pike
hadtoldCelahe’dmadeitclearupfrontthathewasonlytakingBaileyasafriend.
Celadidn’tseembotheredeitherway,butFosterknewPikewasn’tgoingtomesswith
afriendofCela’s—especiallyonesoyoungandstarstruck.Evenhehadhislimits.
Theypulleduptotheplacewheretheeventwasbeingheld,andFosterwassurprised
toseethegrandentranceofHotelSt.Markthroughthewindow.Henoddedtowardthe
building.“Hey,lookatthat.Whatarethechances?”
Celajustsmiledandgrabbedhishand.“Ready?”
“AsI’lleverbe.”
Theyclimbedoutofthelimoandheadedtowardoneoftheballrooms.Thehotel,of
course,lookedthesameasithadwhenhe’dtakenCelaherethatfirstnight,but
God,somuchhadchanged.He’dsaunteredintothathotelthateveninglookingfor
afun,kinkynightwithhissexyneighbor.Neverwouldhehaveguessedhe’dendup
hereagainwithCelaonhisarmashisgirlfriend.
Celaguidedhimthroughthelobbytowardthebackofthehotel,wheretheballroom
waslocated,butbeforetheysteppedthroughthedoors,sheturnedandgavehima
quickkiss.“Justremember,ifyouwanttobemad,takeitoutonmelater.Butright
now,Ineedyoutosmile.”
“What?”
Shetuggedhimthroughthedoorandintoaroombuzzingwithpeople.Hewasstill
tryingtoprocesswhathercrypticcommentmeant,whenhesawthelargebannerabove
thestageonthefarendoftheroom.132LivesSaved—ThankYou,4N!
Hefroze,hisfeetfasteningtothefloor.“Whatthehellisthis?”
Pikesteppedupbehindhim,clappingahandonhisshoulder.“Welcometoyourparty,
bro.You’reahero.”
Heavinesslandedinthepitofhisstomach.Hero.Thatwasthelastthinghewas.
“Cela…”
Shebitherlip,herexpressionanxiouslyexpectant.“Remember,smile.Youcanmakemepaylater.”
Heranahandoverthebackofhishead,fightingtheurgetostriderightbackout.
Butbeforehecouldsayanythingelse,hisassistant,Lindy,hurriedovertohimlike
awhirlwindofflutteringhandsandsmiles.Shethrewherarmsaroundhim.“I’mso
gladyoucame!”
Onautopilot,hehuggedherback.“Youknewaboutthis?”
Shesteppedback,smilingsheepishly.“Maybe?Thestaffhaswantedtoputtogether
aneventforawhile.Alotofthefamilieswanttothankyou.SowhenCelacalled
metoseeifwecouldputsomethingtogetherquickly,Isortofmadeeveryonework
overtimetomakeithappen.”
HepeekedoverLindy’sshouldertowardCela.Everythinginherstancebeliedhernerves.
She’dgonethroughallofthistrouble,andnowshewasafraidhewasgoingtobail.
Hesighed,frustratedthatthiswashappeningbutunabletoletCelaorhisstaff
downbybeinganassholeaboutit.
Heforcedhimselftosmile,themotionstraininghisface.“Thanks,Lindy.Y’allreally
shouldn’thavegonethroughthetrouble.”
Shecrossedherarmsandeyedhim.“Yes,weshould’ve.Youbuiltthiscompany,and
youneedtoaccepttheimpactit’shad.Now,gosit,eatanddrink.Thepresentation
isabouttostart.”
“Presentation?”ButCelaandPikewerealreadyusheringhimtoatablewithoutanswering
hisquestion.
Hefeltlikeapiecebeingmovedonachessboard,everythingoutofhiscontrol.The
wholeexperiencewasunnerving.Butwhatelsecouldhedoatthispoint?Celahad
thrownhimintothedeependwithoutanescaperoute.Heorderedastiffdrinkbefore
hisassevenhitthechair.
Andhewouldneedthatliquidfortification,becauseafewminuteslater,thelights
wentdownandavideoscreenloweredonthebackwallbehindthestage.Musicfilled
thecavernousballroom,andCelareachedoutandgrabbedhishand.Familiarfaces
begantolightthescreenintimewiththewordlessmusic.Onebyone,everyperson
whohadeverbeenfoundbecauseofoneoftheirproductsappearedonthescreen.Happy,
smilingfacesoftwolittleboysrunningthroughthepark,alittlegirlwithatiara
on,thewizenedsmileofanelderlymanwho’dbeenfoundafterwanderingoff,footage
ofnewsstoriesshowingfamiliesreunitingwhentheyfoundtheirlovedones.
Wordsappearedonthescreenbetweenthephotos.
Everyday…overtwothousandchildrengomissing.
Everyday…familiesgrieveforlovedonesthey’llneverseeagain.
Foster’sthroatfeltlikeitwasstuffedwithfiberfill,hischestgoingtight.
Everyday…hopeislost.
ButnotforMackenzieOsbourneinCedarRapids,IA.
NotforJaydenKennedaleinBiloxi,MS.
NotforMaryLouWallaceinWaco,TX.
BecausepeoplelikeIanFosterandthestaffof4Nrefusetoacceptthatthere’snothing
wecando.
AvideooftheKennedalescameon,Jaydeninthemiddlewithatoothlessgrin.Jayden’s
motherbegantospeak.“ThedayJaydenwanderedoffinthemallwasthemostterrifyingdayofmylife.In
aflashofseconds,Isawmywholeworldcollapsinginonitself.I’dtakenmyeye
offofhimforonemoment,andhewasgone.Mybabywasgoneanditwasmyfault.”Sheswipedattearsthroughawaveringsmile.“I’mnotsurewhatmademebuythatHomeSafewristbandamonthbefore.Iliveina
quiettown,lowcrime.Itseemedkindofsillyandparanoidtohavesuchathing.
ButNeveFoster’sstoryaffectedme,andIboughtone.IfJaydenhadn’tbeenwearing
histhatday,Iknowwewould’veneverseenhimagain.Iwillneverbeabletorepay
IanFosterand4Nforwhatthey’vegivenme.Yousavedusall.”
Foster’slungsconstrictedasanotherfamilycameongivingmoreheartfelttestimony.
HelookedtoCela,whowasswipingattears.Sheturnedhiswayandofferedhima
tentativesmileasiftosay,SeehowamazingyouareThismatters.Youdidthis.
Themeaningbehindthatlookhithimrightinthesternum.Itwaslikewarmraysof
sunshiningonhisface.Forthefirsttimeever,hefeltit—trulyfeltit—byseeing
himselfthoughhereyes.He’dmadeadifference.Maybenotforhisownfamily.He
couldnevermakethingsbetterforNeve.Andnothingwouldeverbringherback.But
hecouldhonorherwiththis.Everypersonwhocamehomesafewitha4Nproductwas
becauseofher,atribute.
Ashelistenedtostoryafterstory,andasfamiliescameuptohimtothankhimafter
thevideopresentationwasover,everythingthathadbeenwoundsotightforsolong
seemedtoloosenandunknotinsidehim.Thismattered.
AndCelahadshownhimthat.She’ddonethisforhim.Everyoneelsehadlethimget
bywithhisbitternessandhardenedfront,butshehadn’tacceptedthebullshit.She’d
pushedandpushedandstooduptohim,hadeventakenthebruntofhiswraththenight
she’drefusedtoleavehimalonetowallow.She’dbledforhim.
Thewomanwasmorethanhecouldhaveeverdreamedoforaskedfor.Shewasperfect.
Andshewashis.
Heexchangedhugsandgood-byeswiththelastofthefamilieswhohadstoppedbyto
thankhim,andthenscannedtheroomforCela.She’dsteppedawaywhenpeoplehad
startedtocomeovertotalkwithhim,buthedidn’twantheranywherebutathis
side.HecaughtsightofheracrosstheroomwithBailey,bothofthemchattingwith
Lindy.Cela’sdarkhairgleamedbeneaththesoftlightingintheroom,andaspromised,
theshortblackdresssheworerevealedjustenoughtodrivehimmad.Ifhehadn’t
knownher,hiseyeswouldhavebeendrawnherwayregardless.Withoutlettingher
seehim,heslippedoutthedoortotakecareofsomething.
Whenhecameback,shehadn’tmovedfromherperch,buthadaddedaglassofchampagne
tothemix.Asiffeelinghiseyesonher,sheglancedhiswayandsenthimastillmadatme?quirkofhereyebrows.Inwardly,hegrinned,buthekepthisexpressionsternas
hemadehiswayovertoher.Whenhereachedthegroup,hegrabbedherelbowanddrew
hernexttohim.“Excuseus,ladies,CelaandIhavealottodiscuss.”
Lindyputahandonhisarm.“You’renotmad,areyou?”
Hesentheraquellinglook.“Notatyou.”
CelagaveBaileyaruh-rohexpressionasshehandedoverherchampagneglasstoherfriend,buthewinkedat
thegirloverCela’sshoulder.Baileybitbackasmile.ShegaveCelaalittlewave.
“I’mgoinggrabmoreofthosepuffpastrythingies.”
“Goodidea,”Fostersaid,tuggingCelaaway.
Sheglancedbackatherfriend.“Isitjustmeordidshejustthrowmetothewolves?”
“Wolf,”hecorrected.
Celaeyedhim,asifstilltryingtofigureoutifhewastrulymadorscrewingwith
her.“Wherearewegoing?”
Hedidn’tanswerasheguidedheroutofthepartyroomandtowardthebankofelevators.
Asifthey’dbeenwaitingforFosterandCela’sarrival,thegoldgleamingdoorsspread
wide.Fosterdraggedherinside.
Assoonasthedoorsslidshut,hecrowdedheragainstthewall,bandinganarmaround
herwaist.Sheletoutalittlesqueakofsurprise,andhepressedhisforeheadto
hers,holdinghereyecontact.“Lasttimewewereinthiselevator,Iwassodesperate
foryou,Iwentagainstmybetterjudgment.Icouldtellyouwereholdingsomething
back,andItookyoutothatroomanyway.”
“Regretit?”
Heliftedhisheadandsmileddownather.“ItwasthebestfuckupI’veevermade.”
Shestaredupathimwiththosebig,browneyes,herlipscurving.
Hecuppedthebackofherneck.“AndallthistimeI’vemadeyouconformtome.What
Iwant,whatIthoughtIneeded,whatIprefer.Iinsistedyoufitintothisonebox
ofidealI’dmadeup.”
“Foster.”
“AndIknowwehaven’ttalkedaboutitsinceeverythinghappened,andIknowyou’ve
gotalotonyourplatebackhome.ButI’mtellingyourightnow.Iwilldowhatever
itfuckingtakes,Cela.Vanilla.Kinky.Neapolitan.Stayinghereormovingsouth.
Idon’tcareanymore.AllIwantisyou.AndwhateverwayIgettohavethat,I’m
willingtodo.”
Herfingerscurledaroundthelapelsofhissuitjacket,andhereyeswentshiny
“Justtellmewhatyouwant,andIwillmakeithappen.”
Theelevatordoorsdinged,openingtothetopflooragain.Butunlikeallthosemonths
ago,therewasnodoubtbehindhersmile,nofear.Shepusheduponhertoesandkissed
himsoftly.Whenshepulledaway,whathesawtherenearlybroughthimtohisknees.
“Iwantyoutotakecareofme,”shesaid,hergazesteadyonhisandherhandpressed
overhispoundingheart.“AslongasIgettotakecareofyouback.Sir.”
Joystreamedthrougheverycellinhisbody,lightinghimfromtheinsideout.Foster
liftedheroffherfeetandcarriedhertowardthehotelroom.Lasttimetheywere
here,she’dgivenhimhervirginity.
Tonight,he’dgiveherhisheart.EPILOGUE
CHRISTMASEVE
TheridingcrophitCela’ssweat-glazedskinwithasatisfyingthwack,anicehardhitattheendofaquickroundoflighterblows.Cela’shead
tippedbackonamoan,thechainsholdingherarmsaboveherclinking.Beautiful.Fosterloweredthecroptohissideandsteppedback,relishingthesightofthat
thickdarkhairslidingbackoverhershouldersanddancingalongthemarkshe’dmade,
hismarks.
Hisangelwasflyinghigh.Hecouldseeitintheswayofherbody,theslackinher
muscles.Desireburnedhotinhisveins,urginghimtotakeher,buthechanneled
hispatience.Hewantedtosavorher,especiallyconsideringtheriskyChristmasgift
hehadplanned.Iftonightdidn’tgothewayhehoped,hemaynothavethisprivilege
again—athoughthecouldn’tevenbeartoletfullyforminhisheadrightnow.
Theglowofthefireplaceflickeredinfrontofher,sendingshaftsoforangelight
dancingalongthewalls,changingaroomthathadonceheldsomuchcoldnessforhim
toonefullofwarmthandbeauty…love.HeranhispalmalongCela’sbackin
agentlecaress,feelingtheheatofherskin,theraisedwelts.Sheshiveredbeneath
hishandandleanedintohistouch.Everythinginherreactionssaidshewantedmore,
butheknewthatwasherendorphinsandneedforreleasetalking,herdescentinto
subspacecomplete.He’dalreadyworkedheroverforlongerthanusual,andhecould
senseshewasclosetobegging.
Buthehadn’tbeenabletoresistpushingher.Shedidn’tknowit,buttonightwas
acleansingofsortsforhim.He’ddriventhelongwaytogetherewithCelaina
blindfold.Shewasundertheimpressionhe’dtakenhertooneofthecabinsatThe
Ranch,buttheyweresomewheredecidedlyclosertohome.
FostersetthecropdownonasidetableandwrappedanarmaroundCela’swaistbefore
hittingabuttononaremotehe’dsecuredtohisbelt.Thechainsattachedtothe
ceilingloweredwithasoftgrind.Hesmiled,enjoyingtheadditiontothenewlyremodeled
house.Wherehismother’spreciousantiquechandelierhadoncebeen,henowhadrecessed
lightingandahiddencompartmentforrestraints.Celasaggedintohishold,andhe
laidabrushofakissalonghershoulder.“Stillwithme,angel?”
“Yes,sir,”shesaid,herbreathchoppybehindthewords.“I’mjustso…Ineed…”
“Shh,Iknow,baby,”hesoothedashehelpedeaseherarmsdowntohersidesandunlocked
theleathercuffs.“Ineedyou,too.Somuch.”
Whenhesteppedinfrontofher,sheraisedherfacetohim,andhecouldimagine
thosesoulfuleyesbehindtheblindfold,thetrusting,full-surrenderwayshelooked
athiminthesemoments.Hecradledherface,hisheartsqueezinginhischestat
thesightofher.Healreadylovedhertoomuch—thepowerofitalmostpainful.
Helaidakissonhermouth,herlipspartingandtakinghiminasifshewereparched
andhewouldprovidethewater.Shetastedofcinnamonandnutmeg,likethecookies
she’dbakedthisafternoon,mixedinwiththeearthyflavorofrawneed.Hetucked
hishandbehindher,supportingherhead,andthenlethisotherhanddriftdownward
overherbarebellyandtothesmoothskinbeneath.Hedeepenedthekissashefound
herwetheat.
Shesighedintothekissasheslippedtwofingersinsideher,strokingherwithenough
pressuretomakehershudderbutnotenoughtosendherover.Herbodyclenchedaround
hisfingers,ahot,slickfistthatmadehiscockthrobagainsthiszipper.Agroan
ofpleasureescapedhim.“You’resoreadyforme,angel.Ilovehowwetanddesperate
yougetwhenI’mroughwithyou.Ican’timagineanythingsexier.”
“It’sallyourfault,”shesaid,smilingasshepressedherforeheadagainsthis.
“Iusedtobesuchagoodgirl.”
Hegrinned.“Oh,you’restillvery,verygood,myCela.”
Hedraggedhishandupward,streakingherbellywithherownarousal,andthencupped
oneofherbreasts.Thesmallmetalclamphe’dplacedonhernippleglintedinthe
firelight.Hebrushedathumbacrossthehardpoint,andshegasped.
“Sopretty.”Heloweredhisheadandlickedthetight,swollennub,elicitingadesperate
mewlfromher.
“Oh,God,please,”shebegged.“Ican’ttakeanymore.Goingtoloseit.”
“Youcantakeit.Andno,youwon’t.NotuntilItellyou,”hesaid,histonefirm.
Hesuckedtheothernippleintohismouth,grazinghisteethoverthetip.
“Fuck.”Herbackbowed,andshepressedintohim,nearwrithing.
Hesmiledashereleasedherbreast.Whenhissweet-mouthedgirlstartedcursing,
heknewshewasbarelyclingingtoheredge.Hepushedherdowntoherkneesandonto
thethickcarpet.“Onyourelbows,angel.IwantthatprettyviewwhileIfuckyou.”
Withouthesitation,shewentdownontoherelbows,spreadingherkneesandpresenting
himwiththesexiestChristmasgifthecouldimagine—thegoldenslopeofherback,
hismarkscoloringherskin,andherarousalglisteninginthedancinglight.Her
submission,fullyandunselfishlygiven.God,hewantedher.Notonlyinthismoment.
Notonlytonight.Andnotonlyinhisbed.
Butrightnowhecouldn’tlethimselfthinkthatfar.Rightnowheneededtodothe
onethinghe’dbeenwaitingforallnight—claimthewomanheloved.
—
Ipressedmypalmstothefloor,myfingerscurlingintotheunfamiliarcarpet.Everymoleculeinmybodyseemedtobevibrating,likeonewrong
moveandmyexistencewouldsimplydisintegrateintoamassofamorphousenergy.
Fosterhadspankedmeandhitmewiththecropsomanytimes,myskintingledlike
therewaselectricityskatingoverit.I’dcomeoncealready,butsincetheinitial
releasehe’dbroughtmetothebrinkoforgasmatleastfourmoretimes,lickingme,
touchingme,andteasingmewithavibrator.Mythighsweredampwithmyneed,and
mysexwasthrobbing,thepressurebuildingpastanythingI’deverexperiencedbefore.
Ifhemademewaittoomuchlonger,madnessorviolencewasadistinctpossibility.
ButLord,Ilovedeveryminuteofthis.Beingunderhishandwaslikeexperiencing
lifeonadifferentplane.Everycolorwasbrighter,everysoundamplified,every
touchlikesparks.IwishedIcouldpullofftheblindfoldandlookbackathim,see
thatdarkpowerthatrolledoffhiminthesemoments.ButtonightIsensedheneeded
theshieldoftheblindfoldmorethanIdid.There’dbeenaquietintensityabout
himallday.
Tonightwasmore.ButhowexactlyIwasn’tsure.
IlistenedasFosterunzippedhispantsanddivestedhimselfofhisclothes—theroom
silentexceptforthepoppinglogsinthefireplace.Thenhishandswereonme,spanning
myhips,caressingme.Hemovedhispalmsalongthecurveofmyass,gentlyspreading
me.“YouhavenoideahowmuchIlikeseeingmymarksonyou,angel,whatitdoes
tome.”
Iletthesmallofmybackdiplow,liftingmyselftohistouch,lovingthegritin
hisvoice,thestrain.
Breathtickledmydampsexandthenhismouthwasonme,tenderlylickingalongmy
sensitivefolds.Mybodyshookunderthesimpletouch,orgasmcoilinginme,ready
tobreakfree.ButIforceditback,breathingdeeplythroughmynoseandrocking
againstmyforearms.“Please.”
Helaidawetkissonmycenter,lettinghistongueslideinsideme,once,twice,
thenpulledbackasecondlaterasifknowingexactlyhowfarhecouldpushmewithout
sendingmeover.“Suchapatientgirl.Ithinkyouneedtoberewardedforthat.”
Isighedintotherugasheshiftedbehindme,mywholebeingreadyingforwhatI’d
beendyingforallnight—Fosteronme,insideme,overwhelmingme.Butinsteadof
theheadofhiscockpressingagainstmycleft,theslicktipnudgedmybackentrance.
Istiffenedinsurprise.
“Easy,angel,”hesaidinthatlow,soothingvoiceofhis.“We’vebeenworkingup
tothis.You’rereadytonight.”
“Oh,God,”Imoanedasherubbedtheheadovermypucker.He’dbeenteasingmeback
there,occasionallyslippingafingerinorasmallplug,butneverhadhetriedto
enterme.I’dbeenhalf-intriguedandhalf-terrifiedofitforamonthnow.
“Youtrustme?”heasked.
“Yes,sir,”Isaidwithouthesitation.
“Thenjustbreatheandpushbackagainstme.Yourbodywillletmein.”
“Okay,”Isaid,soundingmoreconfidentthanIfelt.Ididashesaid,fightinghard
nottobracemyselfandtense.Iknewthatwouldmakeithurt.Theheadofhiscock
pressedagainstmyass,andIwidenedmyknees.Resistancepushedbackagainsthim,
anditfeltliketherewasnowayallofhimwasgoingtoevergetpastit,butthen
Itookadeepbreathandthethickheadbreachedmyentrance.Asnapofdiscomfort
wentthroughme,theinvasionsoforeign,butthenthelubricantwenttowork,easing
hisway,andhesankinsideme.Myeyesalmostrolledbackinmyheadwiththeintensely
intimatefeelofit.
“Fuck,youfeelsogood,”Fostersaidonagroan,rockingintomeoh-sogently.“So
fuckingperfect,angel.I’llnevergettiredofthis,offeelingyouaroundme,every
partofyoubeingmine,experiencinghowbeautifulyouarewhenyouletgo.”
NeitherdidI.AndIcouldn’timagineevertiringofhistouch.I’dworriedearly
onthatthethrillofthiskindofrelationshipwouldwearoff.Thatthedynamiccould
getoldaftertheinitialintriguefaded.Butbeingwithhimlikethiswasmyescape.
EvenifI’dhadadayofworkattheERvetclinicthathadmademewanttotakeup
heavydrinking,IcouldgointothissacredspacewithFosterandallofthatwould
fadeaway,leavingonlythetwoofus.
Ilovedit.
Ilovedhim
ThoughIhadn’thadthegutstoadmithowdesperatelyyet.
HethrustintomeagainandIbitmylip,thesensationedgierandmoreintensethan
regularsex.Needbuiltinmelikeatsunami—loomingthere.Ifoughthardtohold
backthetide,myfingersachingfrommygripontherug.ButIknewIhadonlyseconds
ofresistanceleftinme,especiallywiththisbombardmentofnewsensation.Itwas
toomuch,toogood,toosweet.Fosterslippedahandontomybelly,anglingmejust
right,brushingovermyclit.Themoveseemedtosendfireintomyblood.Iwhimpered
intothecarpet,mybraingoingfuzzywithhalf-formedthoughtsandfullyformeddesperation.
“Foster,Ican’t…please,sir.”
“Goforit,baby.Letmefeelyoucomearoundme,”hesaid,hisvoicebelyinghis
owndwindlingcontrol.Hedrapedhimselfovermyback,andreachedaroundtoremove
theclamps.
Theblindingrushofsensationreturningtomynipplesshotthroughmelikelava,
makingmescreamandcollapsetothecarpet,myarmstrappedbeneathme.Orgasmrumbled
ontheheelsofthepain,burstingthroughandcrashingoverme.SoundsIdidn’tknow
Iwascapableofdraggedfrommythroat.
“That’sit,angel.Letitallgo.”Fosterdidn’tbreakstride.Hethrustintomewith
long,steadystrokes,hisbodyblanketingmineandstealingmybreathinthebest
waypossible.
Iwaspinnedbeneathhim,writhing,helpless,hisweightandmotiondraggingmeagainst
theshaggycarpet.Thesoftfibersteasedmyskin,ticklingmyclitandsensitized
nipples,drivingmepastthepointIthoughtIcouldtake.Iclawedattheedgeof
therug,mynoisesandmovementsturninganimalistic,primal.Icouldn’tstopit,
couldn’tdoanythingbutlethimhaveme.
Fosterbracedhisforearmsnexttomyhead,andherockeddeepintome,hismuscles
tightening,hisbreathraggedinmyear.Hewasrighttherewithme.Beyondcontrol.
Beyondrestraint.Thenhislow,gutturalmoantwinedwithmine,andhewaspulsing,
hishotreleasejettinginsideme.
Andforthatsuspendedmoment,wewereone—twobodiesfusedintheheadyblissof
sharedecstasy.Twohearts…
Iclosedmyeyesandrodethelastwavesofpleasure.Then,whenmyspasmsfinally
quieted,Ilaidmycheekagainstthecarpetanddidtheonlythingmybodycouldmanage—I
succumbedtotheexhaustion.
—
Mymindwasdrifting,mybodysurroundedbywarmthandmylimbslanguidandheavy,likefloatinginaseaofgooeycaramel.Lovely.Iattempted
tonestledeeperintothesensation.
“Cela?”
Thevoiceseemedtocomefrombothfarawayandinsidemyheadatthesametime.Was
someonecallingme?Mylipspartedtorespond,toaskwhowasthere,butinsteadeverything
cameoutmuffledandslurred.
“Youawake,angel?”afamiliarvoiceasked,thewordssoft.
Foster
Thatpulledmefrommydreamstate,draggingmebacktothememoryofwhathadhappened
tonight.Iblinked,tryingtoclearthefoginmybrain,andtheflickeringorange
glowofafirefilledmyvision.“Maybe.”
Foster,who’dapparentlybeenstretchedoutalongmybacksidewithhisarmsaround
me,shiftedfrombehindmeandsatup,tuckingmebackintothecozycornerofthe
couch.Hesmileddownatme,pushingmyhairoffmyforehead.“Iwasstartingtoworry
youweren’tgoingtowakeupuntilourflightinthemorning.Yourparentsalready
thinkI’msomecrazed,obsessiveboyfriendwhostoleyouaway.Theywouldreallyhate
meifIcausedyoutomissChristmas.”
“Youhavenoidea,”Imurmured,adjustingmyselfsoIcouldsitmoreupright.Iwas
wrappedtightlyinablanket,thoughIhadnomemoryofhowI’dendedupthatway.
Subspace,forthewin.“Plus,AndrewouldkillmeifIbailed.He’sgoingtodrop
theI-kiss-boys-toobombonthem.”
“Ihaveafeelinglotsofspikedeggnogwillbeconsumedoverthisholiday.”
“Countonit.Buthey,weshouldthankhim.Itwilltakesomeofthespotlightoff
ofus.”Ismiled.“I’msorryIfellasleep,guessIwasmoreexhaustedthanIrealized.”
“No,it’sfine.Iputyouthroughalottonight.Ithinkyourbodyfinallywavedthe
whiteflag.”
Irubbedmyeyesandglancedaround,tryingtogetmybearingsnowthatIdidn’thave
ablindfoldon.ButwhenIlookedtotheleft,Ihadtodoadoubletake.Awallof
windowsoverlookingtheslopeofahillandamoonlitlakebeyondspannedthefar
sideoftheroom.Whatthehell?TheRanchdidn’thaveanyhilltopcabins.Ipeekedbehindme,findinganarchway
toalargegourmetkitchen.Andtheydefinitelydidn’thavecabinsthismodernor
thisbig.Confusionswampedme.IturnedbacktoFoster.“Wherearewe?”
Heglancedtowardthestretchofwindows.“We’reinaplaceIneverthoughtI’dcome
backtoagain—thehousemyfamilymovedtoafterNevedisappeared.Iownit.”
Iraisedmyeyebrows.“Youownahouse?”
“Yeah,haveforafewyears.Myparentsleftittomewhentheybuilttheirplace
inFlorida.”
Iletmyeyesdriftaroundtheroom,overtheexpensivefurniture,thebeautifulstonework
aroundthefireplace,thepolishedwoodfloors.Theplacewasgorgeousand,fromthe
looksoftheshadowedhallways,huge.“Ithinkyoucouldfityourentireapartment
intothisroomalone.Whyhaven’tyouusedit?”
Hesighed.“It’sagreathouseandview,butthetimesIspenthereweresomeofmy
roughest—lonelyyears.Ibasicallylivedherewitharotatingherdofpaidcaretakers
whilemyparentstraveleddoingtheircharityworkandchasingleadsaboutNeve.”
Ifrowned,reachingoutforhishand,knowingthat,thoughhisparentsweremaking
anefforttobuildsomesortofrelationshipwithhimagainnow,therewerestill
decadesofhurttoheal.
“ThelastChristmasIspentinthishouse,Iwasfifteen.Wehadthismonster-sized
tree.Ittouchedtheceilingandhadhand-paintedornamentsfromParis.Itcould’ve
beeninashowroomorthecenterpieceonsomeTVholidayspecial.Beneathitwere
enoughpresentstofilladumptruck.Fromtheoutsidelookingin,theplacelooked
idyllic,likeeverykid’sdream.ButifIhadn’tinvitedPikeover,Iwould’vespent
Christmasalone.MyparentshadabenefitinNewYorkfortheirfoundation.Pikeand
Ispentthenightgettingdrunkonpeppermintschnappswhileburningwrappingpaper
inthefireplacetowatchtheflameturncolors.”
Thesadnessthatcrossedhisfacemademyhearthurtforhimalloveragain.Myparents
mayhavesmotheredme,butatleastIwasnevershortonattentionorlove.Christmas
atmyhousewassofullofpeople,therewashardlyspacetositdown.“Oh,Foster.”
Heturnedbacktomethen,aresignedsmile.“It’sokay.I’mnottellingyouthis
soyoufeelsorryforme.JustexplainingwhyI’veletthisplacesit.Abig,empty
housefilledwiththosekindsofmemorieswasthelastthingIwanted.”
“Iunderstand,”Isaidsoftly.“Butwhyareweherenow?”
Fosterbrushedhisknucklealongmycheek,watchingme,studying.Debating.Hefrowned.
“YouaskedmeafewweeksagowhatIwantedforChristmas,andItoldyounothing,
thatIhadeverythingIwanted.”
Ileanedintohistouch,givinghimasmallsmile.
“ButIlied,”hesaid,loweringhishand.
Thatgavemepause,alittlepinchofworry,Ituckedtheblanketmoretightlyaround
myself.“Oh?”
“Yes.Iknowwepromisedtobecompletelyhonestwitheachother.”
Inodded.
“ButI’vebeenfailingyouonthattheselastfewmonths.BecausewhatI’vereally
beenwantingissomethingmorethanI’veaskedfor.”
Iwetmylips,mystomachdippingabitatwherehiswordscouldbeleading.“Okay.”
Icouldhearhimtakealong,deepbreath,asifheneededextraoxygentosaywhat
heneededtosay.“IpromisedmyselfIwouldn’tputpressureonyou,wantedtogive
youtimetoexplorethiskindofrelationshipbecauseyouweresonewtoeverything.
Itoldmyselfitwastoprotectyou,butreally,itwastoprotectme.”
Ifrowned,notunderstanding.
“Ithinkpartofmewasalwaysstillwaitingfortheothershoetodrop,foreverything
tofallapartagain.Foryoutochangeyourmindandmoveon.”
Theinsecurityinhiswordstuggedatme.“Foster…”
“ButIcan’thelphowIfeel,howyoumakemefeel.AndI’mdonebeingchickenshit
aboutit.WhatIreallywantforChristmasistohaveyoubymysideeverynight…”
Mybrowsknitted.“I’matyourplacealmosteverynight,oryou’reatmine.”
Helookeddownatourlinkedhands,brushingathumbovermyknuckles,thenraised
hisfacetome.“Idon’twanttojustdateyou.Iknowwehaven’tbeentogetherthat
long,butIalsoknowwhat’sinmyheart.AndwhatIthinkIseeinyours.Iwant
morewithyou.Iwanteverything,Cela.”
Iblinkedathiminthemutedfirelight.HisexpressionwasasstrippedbareasI’d
everseenit.Vulnerable.Nervous.Thesightmadeithardformetodrawbreath.I
wassousedtoseeingtheconfidentandcollectedFosterthatthissidewasarevelation.
He’dlefthisarmoratthedoortonight.
Thenhisrequestfinallyregistered.Iwanteverything.MyvoiceshookalittlewhenImanagedtogetwordsout.“Whatareyouasking?”
“ExactlywhatyouthinkI’masking.ButI’mnotgoingtogetononekneeyet.Know
thatIwill,andI’dmarryyoutomorrowifyou’dhaveme,butthat’sdefinitelya
decisionI’mnotgoingtolayonyouyet.We’vegottimeforaring.Butasastart,
I’maskingyoutolivewithme,angel—here.I’vehadeverythingremodeledandupdated.
Iwanttobuildalifeherewithyou.AndIwantyoutowearmymarkofownership.”
Istaredathim,struckspeechlessbytherequests.LivewithmeWearmymark.Onedaywearmyring.Myheartknockedhardagainstmyribs.Hewasaskingmetomovein,tobehis—forever,
puttinghimselfoutthereinawayIknewhadtobepunchingoldfearbuttonsfor
him.
Somanythingszippedthroughmymind—thesheergravityofthedecision,theimplications,
thepermanence.Forallthesemonths,we’dspentsomuchtimetogether,butwe’dstill
keptsomespace.Wewouldsleepoverateachother’splace,butnoteverynight.And
thoughIworeacollarwhenwemadetripstoTheRanch,itwasonlyonduringscenes.
Itwasasifwewerebothplayingwithparachutes,alwaysanticipatingthatoneof
usmightjumpofftheplane.
IfIsaidyes,Iknewthiswouldtransform,deepentoalevelIcouldn’tevenfathom.
IknewwhatFostercravedfromme—acravingI’dfeltbloomingwithinmyselfwitheach
passingweekweweretogether.Owned.WhenIcamehomeafterwork,I’dbecomehis,mysubmissionadailygift.Eventhough
Ihadletmyselfimagineit,fantasizeaboutit,itwasalottoprocess.ButasI
closedmyeyesandpicturedwhatthatlifewouldlooklike—Fosterandmesharinga
home,thetwoofusfacingtheworldtogether,intensenightsofbeingunderhiscommand
mixedinwithdaysofbeingsurroundedbyhislaughterandlove—well,Icouldn’tquite
accessanyfearoverthat.
Instead,likewaterrisinginawell,anoverwhelmingsurgeofhappinessspreadwithin
me,fillingeverynook,andthreateningtoburstthroughmypores.Iknewalltoo
wellthesenseoflossIfeltwhenheunlatchedmycollaratTheRanchorwhenwe
hadtopartforthenight.
Inthebeginning,theideaoftruesubmissiontoFosterhadscaredme,hadmademe
worryaboutputtingmyselfinanothersuffocatingsituationliketheoneI’dgrown
upwith.Butmyparentshadcontrolledmethroughguiltandshame,andhadusedmy
naturalurgetomakethosearoundmeproudandhappyagainstme.They’dlettheir
loveandoverprotectivenessofmeovershadowwhatmayhavebeenrightforme.
Butinmyheart,IknewFosterwouldnevertakeadvantageofmydesiretopleasethat
way.He’dbeentheonecheeringmeontheselastfewmonthswhileIwentthroughmy
toughERposition.Theonewho’dheldmewhenIlostmyfirstpatientinsurgery.
Hewantedmeonmyowntwofeetintheworld—strong,capable,successful.Butbehind
closeddoors,hewantedmeunderhiscare.
AndIcouldthinkofnoplaceI’dratherbe.
“Foster,”Iwhispered.
Heleanedovertothecoffeetabletograbsomething,thensquaredhimselftoward
meonthecouch.Inhishands,heheldasmall,flatbox.Istareddownatit,my
breathquickeningasheflippeditopen.Insidelayadelicatechoker-stylenecklace
withasilverpendantintheshapeof…awing.
“Ipromisethisonehasnotrackingdeviceinvolved.”
Mylipslifted.
“Iwantyoutobemine,angel.”
Tearscoatedmythroat,butIheldthemback,notwantingtotaintthemomentbycrying.
Ireachedouttotracethecurveoftheangelwing.ItwasapieceofjewelryIcould
wearout—adaycollar—andnoonewouldknowwhatitmeant.ButIwould.I’dbewearing
hismark.Andthethoughtmadeeverythinggowarminsideme.
“Ifit’stoosoonortoomuchoryou’renotreadyoryouthinkI’mcrazyorthishouse
isn’twhatyou…”
Igrinnedandraisedmyfingers,pressingthemagainsthismouth.“Shutup,Foster.
Nervousramblingismyjob.”
Hesmiledbeneathmyfingertips,buttheworrystillhoveredatthecornersofhis
eyes.
Seeinghisuncertaintyonlymademefallforhimmore.Hishard,dominantsidespoke
tomeonanelementallevel,butthattendernessbeneathaffectedsomethingmuchdeeper,
filledspacesandcornersinsideme.Iheldhisgaze,loweringmyhandandtoldhim
exactlywhatI’dbeenfeelingformonths.“Don’tlooksoworried.YourememberI’m
inwithloveyou,right?Like,stupid,crazy,drawing-hearts-in-my-journalinlove
withyou.Iwantitall,too.Forever,Foster.Us.Likethis.”
Hewassilentforamoment,asifhehadn’theardanythingIsaid.Butthenallthe
starchseemedtoleavehim.
“ThankGod.”Heclosedhiseyes,histenseposturefullydeflatingbeforeheopened
themagain.“Iloveyou,too.Somuch.AndIknowwhatI’maskingisabigstep.I
knowit’salot.”
Ileanedbackagainstthearmofthecouch.“Yes,itisabigstep.Andifwe’restickingtothehonestyrule,IcansaythatI’venever
imaginedwantingarelationshiplikethis.”
Henodded,goingabitsomber,likehewasanticipatingthegauntlet.
Ireachedoutandbrushedmyfingersagainsthisstubble.“Notuntilyou.”
Thebeamingsmilethatbrokethroughthatfive-o’clockshadowofhiswasbrightenough
torivalthemoonoutside.I’dneverseensuchabeautifulsight.Myman,shirtless
andgrinning,hishappinesslikepurelight.AndnowIwasgoingtogettowakeup
everymorningtohisface,feelthatlovearoundme,andbehis.
Ilettheblanketslipoffmyshoulders,notwantinganythingbetweenus,andclimbed
offthecouch.Ieasedmyselfdowntomyknees,allthewhileholdingFoster’seye
contact.ThenIloweredmyheadandpresentedmynecktohim,thesubmissivemove
makingmefeelmoreincontrolofmylifethanIeverhadbefore.Finally,Iwason
thepathofmyownchoosing.“MerryChristmas,sir.”
“MerryChristmas,angel.”
Hegatheredmyhairtolayitononeshoulder,andIfeltthequiverinhishand,
thedepthofemotionbehindthesimplecaress.Andwhenhefastenedthechokeraround
myneck,andthecoolcurveoftheangelwingtouchedmycollarbone,asoul-deep,
peacefulcalmsettledoverme,leavingnodoubtastowhereImostwantedtobe.
NeverhaveIever…beenthishappy.TurnthepageforasneakpeekatthenextLovingontheEdgebook
NOTHINGBETWEENUS
ComingWinter201512:35A.M.—SPRING
GeorgiaDelaunehadneverbeenparticularlydrawntoillegalactivity.Ortakingrisks.Or,okay,fine—sexuallydeviantbehavior.Shewaswoman
enoughtoadmitwhatthiswas.Sofindingherselfhidinginthedark,peeringaround
thecurtainsofhersecond-storywindowwithasetofbinoculars,should’vetipped
heroffthatshewasofficiallylosinghershit.
ButsincemovingintothehouseonFallenOaksLanesixmonthsearlier,she’dknown
thismomentwascoming.Beforenow,she’dconvincedherselfthatshe’donlybeencatching
inadvertentpeeksandunintentionalglimpses.Herneighborwouldsurelyshuthiscurtains
ifhedidn’twanttoriskbeingseen,right?
Shegroaned,loweredthebinoculars,andpressedherforeheadtothewindowframe.
God,nowshewasblamingthevictim.Hegetsnakedintheconfinesofhisownhome.Ahomethat’sonatreedcornerlot
withtonsofprivacyandaseven-foot-tallfence.Howdarehe!
Thiswassoscrewedup.Whatifhesawher?Hecouldcallthecops,andshe’dbeslapped
withsomePeepingTomcharge—orPeepingTammy,asthecasemaybe.That’dbeanepic
disaster.EspeciallywhenthecopsfoundnoinformationonaGeorgiaDelaune.Plus,
afterward,she’dhavetomovebecausethere’dbenofacingherneighboragain.Not
afterheknewwhatshedidatnight.Andtherewasnowayinhellshewasmoving.
Ithadtakentoomuchtime,effort,andplanningtofindthisspot,tofinallyfeel
evenasmidgenofsecurityandsafety.Thesewallswereheronlyhaven,andshehad
nointentionofleavingthem.
Butdespiteknowingtherisks,whenshesawalampflickonandlightglowinthe
windowofColbyWilkes’sbedroom,shefoundherselfdraggingachairovertothewindow
andliftingthebinocularstohereyes.Ittookasecondtoadjustthefocus,but
whenthelensescleared,thebroad,wetshouldersofherdark-hairedneighborfilled
theview.Herstomachdippedinanticipation.
Hewasn’talone.
She’dknownhehadfriendsover.She’dseenthegroupgoinginwhenshe’dclosedher
livingroomblindsearlierthatnight.Twowomenandthreeguys,plusColby.Later,
she’dheardwatersplashingandthemurmuringofvoices,soshe’dgoneintoherbackyard
forawhiletolistentothedistantsoundsoflifeandlaughter.Thatworldseemed
soforeigntohernow.Beingsurroundedbypeople,havingfriendsover,relaxingby
thepool.Shecouldn’tseeanythingfromherbackyard.Colby’spoolareawasblocked
bythehouseandborderedbytrees.Soshe’dlaininherloungechairoutback,closed
hereyes,andimaginedshewasaguestathisparty,thatshewaspartofthatlaughter.
Andshe’dalsofoundherselfwonderingwhatwouldhappenafterward.
Nowsheknew.Colbyhadsteppedintohisbedroom,obviouslyfreshfromthepoolwith
hisdarkhairwetandonlyatowelknottedaroundhiswaist.Andhehadcompanywith
him.OneofColby’sfriends,atallblondguywhowasalsosportingatowel,hadfollowed
himin.Andthentherewasawoman.Sheworenothingatall.Georgiatuckedherlip
betweenherteeth,heatcreepingintoherface.Shesoshouldn’tbewatchingthis.Butshecouldn’tturnaway.She’dlearnedratherquickly
thatherdearneighbor,despitehisaffablegrin,southern-boycharm,andstraitlaced
job,wasafreakinthebedroom.Threesomeswereonlypartofit.Themanwasdominant
tothecore.Consideringherlastrelationship,thataloneshould’veturnedheroff,
sentherrunning.Guyswhowantedcontrol?Fuck,no.
Butthefirsttimeshe’dcaughtsightofColbybringingafloggerdownonalover’s
back,Georgiahadbeentransfixed.Atthetimeshe’dbeencompletelystuckonher
latestwritingproject.ButafterwatchingColbydriveawomanintoawrithing,begging
state,Georgiahadgoneintoheroffice,openedanewdocument,andwrittenuntil
thesunhadbrokenthroughthecurtainsthenextmorning.Beforesheknewit,her
thriller-in-progresshadtakenadecidedlyeroticturn.Thankfully,hereditorhad
lovedthenewdirection.SonowGeorgia,inherguiltiestmoments,toldherselfthese
stolenmomentsatthewindowwereallinthenameofbookresearch.
Yeah.Evenhersleep-deprivedbraindidn’tbuythatone.
Theguiltwasn’tenoughtomakeherstop,though.EspeciallynowwhenColbywasgrabbing
fortheknotonhistowel.Sheheldherbreath.Theterryclothfelltothefloor
atColby’sfeet,andeverythinginsideGeorgiawenttight.Holyheavenabove.She’dwatched—oh,howshe’dwatched—butneverbeforehadshebeenabletoseeeverything
insuchintimatedetail.Thebinocularstransportedher,tookherbythehandand
draggedherintothatroomwiththosestrangers.Colbywasrightthereinfrontof
her—strong,beautiful,aroused.Hishandwrappedaroundhiscockandstrokedever
soslowly,tauntingherwithunashamedconfidence.No,nother.Thewoman.God,Georgia
shouldlookaway.Butneedrolledthroughherlikethunderfromanoncomingstorm,
herfingerstighteningaroundthebinoculars.
Theothermanhadstripped,too,andalthoughhewasgorgeousinhisownrightwith
hispolished,camera-readygoodlooks,Georgiawasdrawntotherough-around-the-edges
brawnofherneighbor.EverypartofColbyhintedatthewildnesshehidbeneathhis
surface—darkwavyhairthatwasalittletoolong,theclose-croppedbeardthatshadowed
hisjaw,andabodythatlookedlikehecouldbench-pressaBuick.Hewastheopposite
ofthepressedandcreased,Armani-cladbusinessmenshe’dbeenattractedtoinher
formerlife.Hewastheguyyou’dbewaryofonfirstglanceifyouranintohimin
adarkalley—thecowboywhosehatcoloryoucouldn’tquitedeterminestraightaway.
Perhapsthatwaswhyshewassofascinatedwithhim,despitethefactthathewas
amanwhowantedwhatshecouldnevergive.She’dlearnedthatdangeroftenhidbehind
theglossofanurbanesmileandperfectlyexecutedWindsorknot.Colbywasnoneof
that.Butregardlessofthereasonforhermixed-upattraction,shecouldn’tstem
thecrackleofjealousythatwentthroughherastheothermanlacedhisfingersin
thewoman’shairandguidedhertotakeColbyintohermouth.
TheviewofColby’serectiondisappearingbetweenthelipsofsomeotherwomanwas
erotic.Therewasnodenyingthat.ButitalsomadeGeorgia’sjawclenchalittle
toohard.Shecouldtell,evenfromthebriefmomentsshe’dbeenwatching,thatthis
womanbelongedtoColby’sfriend.TheywereacoupleandColbythethirdparty.But
itstillactivatedGeorgia’sHe’smine,bitch!reflex.
Georgiasniffedatherridiculous,territorialreaction,andtriedtoloosenthetension
gatheringinherneck.Sure,he’syours,girl.Youcan’twalkdownthestreetwithoutswallowingapillfirst,
muchlessstartsomethingifhewaseveninterestedintheweird,spyingchicknext
door.
Butsheshovedthethoughtaway.Shedidn’twantanythingtaintingthesefewprecious
minutes.Thiswasn’taboutfindingahookup.Onlywhenshestoodatthiswindowdid
shefeelevenaglimmerofherformerselftryingtobreakthrough.Thiswashergossamer-thin
lifelinetowhosheusedtobe,tothecapableandconfidentwomanwhowould’venever
hiddeninthedark.
Beforelong,theblondmaneasedthewomanawayfromColbyandguidedhertowardhimself,
takinghisturn.Georgiatiltedthebinocularsupward,findingColby’sfaceinstead
offocusingonthescenebetweentheothermanandhiswoman.Whatshefoundlurking
inhisexpressionwasn’twhatsheexpected.TherewasheatinColby’seyes,interest
forsure,butasshestaredlonger,shesensedadistanceinthosehazeldepths.Like
hewastherewiththembutother…separate.Alone.
Itprobablywasonlybecausetheothertwowereacouple.OrmaybeitwasGeorgia’s
mindslappinglabelsonthingstomakeherselffeelbetter.Butregardless,itmade
herchestconstrictwithrecognition.Shedidn’tknowwhatwasgoingoninhishead.
Orhowseeinghisfriendstogethermadehimfeel.Butsheknewloneliness.Andfor
thosefewseconds,shewasconvincedColbydid,too.Shepressedherfingertipagainst
thecoolglassofthewindow,tracingtheoutlineofColby’sface.Needingtotouch…
something.
Theglassmayaswellhavebeenmadeofsteel,theyardsbetweenthehousesmadeof
miles.
Butshecouldn’twalkaway.Thenightwentonandthereshesat,watchingthethree
loversmovetothebed,thewomanbeingcuffedtotheheadboard.Thetwomenravished
herwithhandsandmouthsandtongues.Itwaslikewatchingasilentsymphony,the
archingofthewoman’sbacktheonlythingGeorgianeededtoseetoknowexactlyhow
thesemenwereaffectingtheirwillingcaptive.Themelancholyfeelingsthathadstirred
earlierhadquicklybeensurpassedbyonesmuchmorebaseandprimal.Georgia’sbody
wasgrowinghotandrestless,herpantiesgoingdamp.
WhenColbybracedhimselfbetweenthewoman’sthighsandenteredher,Georgiatrained
thebinocularsonhisface,unabletohandletheimageofhimhavingsexwithanother
woman.Hermindwasdevelopingquitetheabilitytofocusonthefantasyandblock
outtheunwantedparts.SheonlyhadaviewofColby’sprofile,butshewatchedwith
raptattentionashisjawworkedandhisskinwentslickwithsweatinsteadofpool
water.
Withoutgivingittoomuchthought,shebracedoneelbowonthewindowledgetohold
thebinocularssteadyandletherotherhanddriftdownward.Hercottonnightgown
slidupherthighseasily.Somewhereherbrainprotestedthatthiswaswrong—sick
andsad.Shehadaperfectlyfunctioningvibratorinherbedsidedrawer.Shehadan
imaginationstrongenoughtofuelanorgasmwithoutdoingthis,withoutwatchingthe
mannextdoorscrewanotherwoman.Butherstarvedlibidodidn’tseemtogiveadamn
aboutmoralsorethicsorpriderightnow.Therewasneed.Andasolution.Simple
asthat.
AsColby’slipspartedwithasoundshecouldonlyimagine,Georgia’sfingersfound
theedgeofherpantiesandslippedbeneaththematerial.Herbodytightenedatthe
touchandthelittlegaspshemadereverberatedinthedeadsilenceofthebedroom.
Colby’sheaddippedbetweenhisshoulders,andGeorgiaimagineditwasherhewas
whisperingpassionatewordsto.ThatdeepTexasdrawltellingherhowgooditfelt
tobeinsideher,howsexyshewas,howhewasgoingtomakehercome.Hewouldbe
adirtytalker,shehadnodoubt.NosweetnothingsfromColbyWilkes.
SheclosedhereyesforamomentasshemovedherfingersintherhythmofColby’s
thrust—long,languidstrokesthathadafirebuildingfromhercenterandradiating
heatoutward.Itwouldn’ttakelong.Herbodywasalreadysingingwithsensation,
releasehurtlingtowardher.Butshewouldn’tgooveralone.Sheforcedhereyesopen,
thebinocularsstillinhergrip,andfoundColbyagain.Hisdarkhairwascurling
againsthisneck,sweatglisteningathistemples.Andsheknewhehadtobeclose,
too.Everymuscleinhisshouldersandbackhadtensed.Allofherattentionzeroed
inonhim,andinhermind,thetouchofherownfingersmorphedintohis—hishands
andbodymovingagainsther,insideher.
Everymoleculeinherbeingseemedtocontract,preparingfortheburstofenergy
tocome.Herbreathquickened,herheartbeatpulsinginherears.Andrightasshe
wasabouttoclosehereyesandgoover,Colbyjerkedhisheadtothesidetoward
thewindow.Hisheatedgazecollidedwithhersthroughthebinoculars—adead-oneye
lockthatseemedtoreachinsideGeorgiaandflipherinsideout.Heknows
Butshewastoofargonefortheshocktoderailher.Orgasmcareenedthroughher
withaforcethatmadethechairscrapebackacrossthewoodfloor.Shemoanedinto
thequiet,thebinocularsslippingfromherhandandjerkingthestraparoundher
neck.Thepartinthecurtainsfellshut,butshedidn’tnotice.Everythingwastoo
brightbehindhereyelids,toogood,toworryaboutanythingelsebutthewayshe
feltinthoselongseconds.Enjoy.Don’tthink.Justfeel.Thewordswhisperedthroughherasherfingerskeptmoving,herbodydeterminedto
ekeouteveryounceofsensationshecouldmanage.
But,ofcourse,theblissful,mindlessmomentscouldn’tlastforever.Chillyreality
madeaswiftreappearanceashergownslippedbackdownherthighsandsweatcooled
onherskin.Shesatthere,staringattheclosedcurtainandlisteningtoherthumping
heart.Colbycouldn’tknow,right?Hisgazehadfeltintenseandknowingbecausethebinocularshadmade
himseemsoclose.Butherwindowwasdark,hercurtainsdarker,andthemoonwas
throwingoffenoughlightthatitwouldmaketheglasssimplyreflectbacktheglow.
Butherchestfeltlikeahundredhummingbirdshadroostedthere,beatingtheirwings
againstherribs.Shewetherlipsandswallowedpasttheconstrictioninherthroat.
Shehadtolook.Wouldherneighborbestridingoverheretodemandtoknowwhatwas
goingon?Wouldhebedisgusted?Embarrassed?Angry?
God,shedidn’tevenwanttothinkaboutit.Shewantedtoturnaround,gotoher
bedroom,andhideunderthecovers.Butthat’sallherlifehadturnedintonow—hiding.
Andthoughshecouldn’tfixthatsituation,sherefusedtocreateanotherone.So
sheforcedherselftoleanforwardandpeelthecurtainsbackonemoretime,leaving
thebinocularshangingaroundherneck.
Whatshesawmadethehummingbirdsthrashmore.Colbywasn’tintheroomanymore.
Hisfriendwasnowwiththewomaninthebed,andbothseemedtotallyabsorbedin
eachother.DidthatmeanColbyhadleftandwasheadingthiswaytoconfronther?
Shewasabouttogotothefrontofthehousetochecktheyardbutthenpausedwhen
sherealizednothinghadchangedabouttheview.Nothingatall.IfColbyhadbeen
concernedaboutanosyneighbor,hehadn’tbotheredtoclosethecurtainsorwarn
hisfriends.Surelyhewould’vedonethat.
Shesatthere,debatingandworrying,butsoonColbyreturnedtothebedroom.The
manandwomanhadfinished.Colbyhadonapairofboxersandhadbroughtcleantowels
inforeveryone.Hedidn’tlookconcerned.Hedidn’tglanceoveratthewindow.He
seemedperfectlyrelaxedashehelpeduntiethewoman’shands,kissedherforehead
inafriendlygesture,andthenlefthisfriendstosleepalone.
Georgialetoutalongbreath,sagginginthechair.
Hedidn’tknow.
Sheshouldstoptakingthisrisk—throwawaythebinoculars,putabookcaseinfront
ofthisdamnwindow,andstopwhileshewasahead.
Butsheknewshewouldn’t.Shewouldfindherselfhereagain.
Becauseifshedidn’thavehersecretnightswithColbyWilkes,whatwasleft?
Fourwalls,longdays,andfear.
Sheneededthis.Shejusthadtomadesureheneverfoundout.RoniLorenwroteherfirstromancenovelatagefifteenwhenshediscoveredwritingaboutboys
waswayeasierthanactuallytalkingtothem.Sincethen,herflirtingskillshaven’t
improved,butshelikestothinkherstorytellingabilityhas.Thoughshe’llforever
beaNewOrleansgirlatheart,shenowlivesinDallaswithherhusbandandson.
Ifshe’snotworkingonherlatestsexystory,youcanfindherreading,watching
realitytelevision,orindulginginherunhealthyaddictiontorockstars,er,rock
concerts.Yeah,that’sit.Visitherwebsite:roniloren.com.
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