The One Where He Waits At Her House

The thought of her working is haunting me the same way storm clouds hover threateningly. It’s heavy and oppressing, ever-present.

In my heart, I don’t believe she is. I don’t believe for a second that she’s sleeping with other men. It’s in her eyes. I saw it in the way she looked at me outside the club. She can’t possibly be giving her body to another man when it belongs so wholly to me. Only me.

Every inch of her, from the way her hair falls softly around her face to the way her toes curl when I look at her, belongs to me.

And the thought of her being with anyone else makes my skin crawl in a way I hope to never feel again. The anger that accompanies that sweeping sensation is tangible. It’s dangerous, and if I were a lesser man, the feeling might frighten me. As it is, all it does is strengthen my resolve to win her back.

It merely strengthens my resolve to have her back where she belongs and have her stay there.

I still fail to understand what possesses her to be a call girl. I knew the only way I could protect her after she walked into the Southfall was by buying her, by having her off-limits to all other men. If I have to do the same again, I will.

I will do whatever it takes, pay whatever it costs, if it means I can keep her safe. Even if she never speaks to me again. She will never belong to anyone other than me. I am as certain of this as I am that I love her. My love for her and need to protect her are one and the same. There’s no middle ground for it. There’s no other option.

Just love her and protect her.

Whether she’ll let me or not.

I pour a glass of water and look out the window. The sun is slowly beginning its descent toward the horizon, a hazy, golden glow emanating from it and mingling with the bright blue sky of the day. I gaze at the colors for a long while, watching as the bright circle lowers even farther.

The evening is when she works most. My skin crawls again, and I reach for the phone. “Hello, Jasper?”

“Yes, Mr. Stone. What can I do for you, sir?”

“Have my car brought around for me, would you?”

“Absolutely. It’ll be waiting for you when you get downstairs.”

“Thank you.” I put the phone back in the holder and grab my jacket from the hooks. I slip my arms into it and step into the elevator, my mind running a thousand miles an hour.

I use these minutes in the elevator to justify my decisions. To justify going to her house. But fucking hell. I need to know if she’s there or not. If she’s not, there’s a good chance she’s working. And if that’s the case, I won’t be leaving so fucking quietly.

Like Jasper said, the car is waiting for me, and I slip in with ease. I give the driver Dayton’s address and lean back, closing my eyes.

I hope she’s not working. My fists clench at the thought of another man’s hands touching her body. The image forms in my mind before I can banish it, and it taunts me. All I can see is her lying back on a bed and fingertips trailing across her silky skin… Dipping inside her hip and across her mound…

I open my eyes and realize that isn’t an imagined situation. It’s real, a memory. A memory of my own hands skimming across her body and touching her in the most intimate way.

That is almost worse. The memory of her with me is almost worse than the thought of her with another.

That’s how much it hurts to miss her.

The car slows as we approach her house, and I look out the window. Her house is in darkness. Every light is off. The curtains are open, but I can only make out the outline of furniture in the waning light.

“Stop the car,” I order, unbuckling my seatbelt. It slams into the seat with the same vigor I open my car door with. “Drive around the block and park down the street. Wait there for me.”

“Yes, sir.”

The car door slams with an almost-satisfying clunk. I turn to her house—her empty house.

She’s working.

I know it.

I storm up the pathway leading to her front door and knock on it several times. When there’s no answer, I call her name. After a couple of minutes of fruitless attempts, I hear a voice from the next yard.

“She went out earlier,” an elderly woman informs me.

“Thank you. I’ll wait here for her.” I smile at her kindly despite the myriad of emotions swirling in my stomach.

She returns the smile. “Dressed up real pretty, she was. Always looks beautiful. Quiet girl though. Keeps to herself.”

“That sounds like Dayton. Thank you, ma’am. I’m sorry if I disturbed you.”

“No, no, you didn’t. Would you like some tea while you wait?”

“I’m fine. Thank you.”

She nods and shuts the window. I run my fingers through my hair and sit on the bench in Dayton’s yard. My elbows rest on top of my knees, and I bury my face in my hands for a long moment.

Fuck. I can’t believe she’s working. I can’t believe she can look at me with heartbreak in her eyes and then be with another fucking man!

I dig the heels of my hands in my eyes. I’m completely damn lost. If I had any idea where she was tonight, I’d march down there and drag her away. Fuck appearances. If I had any idea where she was, she’d be leaving with me.

After what seems like hours but is probably mere minutes, I hear the angry slam of a car door and look up.

My first thought is how fucking beautiful she looks storming toward me with her hair flying over her shoulders. The next is that she’s alone.

“If this happens again, Mr. Stone, I may have to look into taking legal action. Two nights in a row? I hardly imagine your sitting outside my house is a coincidence.”

I find her eyes with mine. Her anger is so evident it shines like a beacon, so strong I can almost feel it reaching out and wrapping around my body.

“Back to work, Miss Black?”

“I have a job. As much as I’d love to sit around and feel sorry for myself, I’m afraid I have far more important things to do.” She tears her eyes from mine and steps toward her front door, digging her key from her purse.

Running, again. She’s always fucking running.

I stand and grab her hand. “Things, or people?”

“I fail to see what business it is of yours.” Her sharp tone cuts through me, but I fight through the annoyance to keep my calm.

“It’s very much my business, as you’re well aware.”

“Perhaps in your opinion. But if it will make you feel better, it’s things, not people.” She turns, and the sick feeling in my stomach dissipates. “I’m not back to work fully. Yet.”

I tighten my grip on her hand. My jaw clenches, and it takes everything I have to bite out the word. “Yet?”

“I have to earn money somehow, and my big spenders aren’t pretty little rich boys who need a date for the night. So yes, yet.”

Her defiance riles me. It raises every hair on the back of my neck and stokes every primal, protective instinct inside my body.

I lean into her. “Never. You aren’t fucking another guy, Dayton.”

“That’s not your decision, Aaron. You had your chance to decide that, and you blew it. Now if you’d like to remove yourself from my property, I’d appreciate it.”

Not a fucking chance, I think before lowering my lips to hers. I take her mouth forcefully, covering her red lips with my own. The pressure of my body against hers pushes her flat against her door, and I lean into her, aware of the hardening of my cock. The tiny whimper that escapes her tells me that she’s aware of it too, and her body responds the way it always does.

Her hips grind into mine, and I cup her face with my hands. I hold her still, reminding her who has the control here, and push my tongue between her lips. She tastes sweet and fruity, almost as if she’s had a drink or two tonight.

“Tell me one thing,” I demand, my voice rough and low. “Has anyone else kissed these lips?” I tug on her bottom one with my thumb.

“Fuck you,” she whispers, her voice wavering.

“Answer the fucking question, Dayton.”

“No. They haven’t.”

I curl one hand around the back of her neck and close the distance between us yet again. This time, I’m even harsher. An unnecessary reminder of who she is to me. What she is to me.

That no one else will ever kiss her the way I am now.

My tongue sweeps through her mouth, and she melts beneath me. Her fingers clench at my shirt, holding me tight to her, and I want to rip that fucking key out of her hand. I want to shove her through this door, lay her flat on her bed, and fuck her until she gets the message I’m so desperately trying to convey with my mouth.

I want to fuck her until she understands that this won’t be the last time I kiss her.

I pull back, grazing her bottom lip with my teeth the way I know she likes, and rest my nose alongside hers. Both of our chests are rising and falling quickly, and I’d bet everything I have that her heart is thumping the way mine is.

Dayton takes a long, shuddery breath and drops her hands from my shirt. Her eyes are full of fire when they find mine. “You have five seconds to get your ass out of here before I go crazy at you.”

I smirk, reveling in that anger. It means she got the message.

“Remember that the next time you think what you do is none of my business.” I brush my thumb across her mouth one last time. Our gazes lock as I walk backward down her pathway and wave my hand. The car pulls up behind me and I open the door. “Good evening, Dayton.”

She simply stares at me as I get into the vehicle. Just before I close my door, I hear her front door slam.

“Back to the apartment,” I order the driver.

He pulls away silently. I pull my cell from my pocket with shaky hands and dial Monique’s number.

She’s not getting away that easily.

Date: 2015-02-28; view: 695