by Lilly Atlas
“You’re welcome to join me if you’d like.” Scott’s voice snapped her out of her stupor.
“What? Oh, uh, maybe.” No way in hell would that be happening. She’d never get a lick of sleep in some random man’s house. Not to mention they’d probably want to go out drinking and pick up women. She almost laughed again. They’d probably do the very same activity she engaged in every weekend, but this time the thought of it had her ready to run for the hills.
What the hell was wrong with her?
A psychologist would probably tell her it was a control issue. Her routine was very regulated, controlled, precise. Going out with Scott and his army buddy, she wouldn’t be in control of the situation. Probably why the encounter with Logan had thrown her for a loop.
Oh, no. Not doing it. Nope. Not thinking about Logan. Again.
“Great,” Scott said. “The wine tasting starts in an hour. I’m gonna grab a shower then we can bug out.” As he walked by, he ruffled her hair again.
Chloe snapped to attention and gave her brother a dramatic salute. “Sir, yes, sir!” she barked like she’d seen soldiers do in the movies.
His chuckle followed him out of the room. “You’re such a little shit,” he called out.
Chloe smiled. She may be a fully-grown adult, but she was still a younger sister. Being a little shit, was a rite of passage.
Two hours later, it was seven PM, and Chloe was seconds away from crawling out of her skin. Literally, her flesh felt itchy and too tight. She rubbed her right forearm again and again until the skin practically screamed at her to stop. Glancing down, she caught the bright red track she’d left on her arm from too many forceful scours with the heel of her hand. And why had she worn this damn dress? A few weeks ago, when she’d worn this to the bar, she’d felt sexy, confident, proud. Now she just felt exposed and vulnerable. Two things guaranteed to ramp up her anxiety.
“You having fun, sis?” Scott asked, a huge grin on his face. He was loving this. The large crowd was full of buzzed, socializing post-work folks just looking to let loose for a few hours. Neither of them drank much more than sampling a few of the wines. They’d driven in separate cars so Scott could continue on to his buddy’s place and Chloe could head home afterward.
Seeing him so happy and relaxed had guilt gnawing at her. Here he was wanting to spend time with her in a setting that she’d have loved last year, and she could think of nothing beyond watching the minute hand creep toward closing. Plastering a smile on her face, she said, “Definitely, Scott. You know me and wine. This is right up my alley.”
His grin grew even bigger, and pride shown in his eyes. It was then she got it. This wasn’t about him. He’d suggested this for her. Because the Chloe he knew would have eaten this kind of event right up. Poor guy probably thought he was giving her exactly what she needed. Drawing her out of the hole she’d buried herself in. Healing her.
She didn’t have the heart to tell him how miserable she was. How her chest was tight, her heart pounded, and her insides shook like a vibrating bed. Problem was, if this kept up too long, she was bound to slide into a full-blown panic attack.
“I’m starved,” Scott announced. “Want me to grab us something from the counter?”
“Sure, I’d like that.” The pangs in her stomach had nothing to do with hunger, but again, she couldn’t let him down.
“All right. Be right back. You good?”
“Of course.” The moment he turned his back on her, Chloe rested her head against the high-top table and tried to control her breathing.
“You’re fine,” she muttered against the polished wood. “Scott’s here and you’re fine.”
“Looks like I’m not the only one who finds this to be a snooze fest, huh?” A male voice said from not far above her bent head.
“What?” Chloe shot up nearly clipping the newcomer’s chin. “Oh, shit! Sorry!”
He chuckled. “No worries, you missed by a hair. Were you taking a nap?”
Light blue eyes full of teasing and laughter met her gaze. He was an attractive man. Golden hair, clean shaven face, full lips, smartly dressed in the suit he’d worn to work. His smile turned a bit cocky as he noticed her checking him out. Probably assumed she liked what she saw. Not that she didn’t, but she wasn’t remotely interested. There was only one way she could feel a flicker of interest in a man and it wasn’t in this uncontrolled environment.
“Uh, no, just having a moment.” Her laughter was definitely of the nervous variety. Again, this guy probably read it wrong. Probably thought she was flustered by his attention in the tee-hee-hee way, not in the freak-out way.
He stepped even closer, until he was officially too far into her personal space. “Mind if I join you for a few? A woman who looks as beautiful as you should never sit alone.”
Chloe’s gut clenched and her throat felt drier than the Sahara. “Um, well, I—”
“I promise I’ll behave,” he said with a wink as he dragged the empty chair around the table directly next to her before sliding into it. His thigh brushed hers. “At least for a while.”
She made a sound that could have been a laugh but was probably more a choke.
“So what’s your name?” he asked.
Words wouldn’t come. Not only had her mouth dried up, but her throat seemed to constrict to a pinpoint. Just enough to drag in enough air to survive. She was rapidly losing control of the situation and couldn’t handle it. The rational, intellectual side of her brain knew exactly how ridiculous she was being. Sure, he was a little assertive, but he hadn’t done a damn thing wrong. Hadn’t touched her inappropriately, hadn’t been creepy, hadn’t crossed any lines. He was just being a typical male looking for some female company. But the side of her that had been violated still had jagged open wounds.
And she was internally freaking the fuck out.
His blonde brows narrowed. “Your name?”
She opened her mouth, and nothing came out but a wheeze.
Shit.
Shaking her head, she turned so her back was to him. Hopefully he’d get the message and just leave.
“What the hell?” he said.
Chloe just shook her head again. Now her breath was coming in choppy gasps that made the room waver before her eyes. She bent forward, resting her head between her knees. Some of the pressure in her chest eased. “Please just go,” she managed to gasp out.
“Shit, you don’t have to be a bitch about it,” he growled. “You aren’t that hot, anyway.”
“What the fuck is going on here?”
Oh great, now Scott had joined the party.
“You harassing her, man?” Scott said, aggression coming off him in waves.
Chloe lifted her head. The room spun so bad she grabbed the edge of the table for support. “I-it’s…fine…Scott.” She was still panting like she’d just run circles around the room.
Immediately her brother’s attention jumped from the guy to her. He abandoned the near-fight and wrapped her in his arms. Her cheek pressed against his chest, the steady beat of his heart helping to return hers to a normal rhythm.
“This is too fucking weird for me. I’m out.” The guy said, lifting his arms in surrender.
“He hurt you?” Scott asked practically growling the words.
“No.”
“Scare you?”
“No—I don’t even…” Chloe sighed. “I just freaked out. I’m sorry.”
Releasing her, Scott sat in the chair the guy had vacated.
Chloe turned away. How could she look him in the eye after he’d witnessed her lose her shit over nothing?
“Hey, don’t do that.” Scott grabbed her chin and turned her face his way. “Don’t hide. I’m your brother, Clo. You’re favorite brother.” While she appreciated the attempt at levity, she couldn’t muster so much as a huff of laughter. “I’m not going anywhere, sis. You think I don’t understand psychological pain? You think I haven’t seen some of my brothers in arms lose it over even less? It’s nothing to b
e ashamed of.”
“It’s embarrassing,” Chloe whispered.
“Nah. Who gives a fuck what these clowns think.” He winked.
She was able to give him a small smile though her heart felt like it was resting on the floor.
“Come on,” he said, tugging on her arm. “Let’s get you home. We can watch one of those cooking competitions you love so much.”
The plan sounded nice, but she’d never forgive herself if he missed time with his friend over this little setback. “No. You go to see your friend. I’m good to get myself home.”
Scott frowned. “I don’t know, Chloe.”
Sitting a little straighter, she said, “Seriously, Scott. I’m fine now and I’ll be even better once I’m home.”
Ten minutes later after a hug goodbye and a promise to text Scott as soon as she was inside with the doors locked, Chloe was cruising down the highway.
Only she wasn’t going home. There was only one thing that would right what happened tonight. One way to get her head on straight.
She needed to take back some of the control she’d lost at the winery.
Pulling off the highway, Chloe steered her car toward one of her favorite bars. As soon as she arrived, she’d call and reserve her room for the night.
CHAPTER TEN
WITHOUT FAIL, FRIDAY and Saturday nights Rocket could set his watch by Chloe.
With calendar precision, she rotated the bars she patronized, and always arrived at seven in the evening. Not once in the months he’d been tailing her had she deviated from the almost ritualistic process.
So why the hell was he sitting in a darkened parking lot at nearly eight at night twiddling his fucking thumbs?
Screw why he was waiting so long, why the fuck was he there in the first place? He fucked her. Now, he had indisputable knowledge she was screwing the men she picked up. And he even knew why she was doing it. Had a better understanding of the internal workings of her damaged psyche. He’d gotten the information he’d been after, yet here he was, one week later, still tracking her like some obsessed stalker.
All evening, he’d tried to fool himself his interest in her nocturnal activities was straight-up for her safety. For all she knew, Chloe was luring a crazed ax murderer to her hotel room to fuck. Rocket was just tailing her to ensure she didn’t end up in pieces in a killer’s trunk.
And yes, the irony wasn’t lost on him. He’d killed more men than anyone he knew.
The convincing worked, too. To his mind, he was there to keep her safe. Not at all because the thought of another man sticking his cock in her made his trigger finger twitch.
So where the fuck was she?
Just as Rocket was about to call the motel and verify she did indeed have a reservation for the evening, her little navy Honda rounded the corner and veered into the parking lot.
Interesting.
Once again, she wore that curve-hugging purple dress that had driven him batshit a few weeks ago. Rocket couldn’t tear his gaze away as she exited her car and swung those sexy hips toward the entrance. Even though her appearance suggested the night was a typical weekend one, something was different, off with the way she carried herself. Gone was the confident woman who owned the room each week. In her place was a fidgety, nervous Nelly. The real Chloe. The woman who’d been violated and had been treading water for months. Made sense her limbs would tire at some point. Was tonight that night?
Had something happened? Did someone spook her? Hurt her? Fucking touch her?
Inhaling through his nose, Rocket fought to stamp down the rising anger. Whatever it was that set her back tonight, he needed to know. Needed to discover what put her off her game.
And needed to vanquish her demon.
There was a way to get it done. A way to work the information out of her, but it would be the stupidest thing he’d done in years. So reckless, Copper would probably rip his patch off and eat it for lunch if he found out.
A man on his way out of the bar held the door for Chloe. Normally, she’d bat her eyes, engage in some banter, flirt a little. Tonight, she averted her gaze and slunk in the building.
For long moments, Rocket just stared at the door after it closed behind her. Right now, she was scanning the room, looking for a man to dominate.
A man to fuck.
And she wasn’t in top fighting form, which meant she was more vulnerable than usual. The bar faded from his sights, replaced by the vision of Chloe riding some nameless, faceless asshole. A rumble vibrated through his chest. No fucking way was her hot pussy taking in a strange cock tonight.
Decision made, Rocket fired up his truck.
He had a plan to put in motion.
HER HEART WASN’T in this.
Neither was her freaking body, or even her mind. Usually the idea of dominating whomever she’d taken back to her hotel room got her at least a little turned on. Even if her body had trouble getting on board with her choice, her mind craved the control and power enough that she was eager to go through with it.
Tonight? Nada.
Chloe lingered outside the motel room with her key card poised above the slot. She should bail. Plead a headache or an upset stomach. This guy seemed dumb enough to believe it.
But then, she might not get this chance again until Scott left. And she needed it. Needed to feel the power of having the upper hand for at least a little while. She needed to right her world and remember that she was in control of some things. It’d be the only way to erase the winery incident from her mind.
So, she stuck the card in the slot and grabbed the metal handle when the light blinked green.
God, she was so fucked up.
With a sigh, Chloe pushed the door open only to have her stomach drop and her eyes bug out of her head. “Holy shit,” she said on a shriek, jerking backward and slamming the door shut as she did so. Her heart hammered so hard against the inside of her chest she was bound to have trauma to the vital organ.
“What’s wrong?” Pizza-guy—as she’d been referring to him all night because he owned an Italian joint in New Jersey—asked.
“Wh—uh, nothing’s wrong.” She volleyed her gaze between the closed door and the man whose black hair was pulled back in a low ponytail, his matching eyebrows arched in confusion.
Nothing, except a very sexy man was already handcuffed to her motel bed.
A man she’d met.
A man she’d fucked.
A man who made her come.
Clearly, it wasn’t going to happen with pizza-guy now. “You know,” she said, lifting an unsteady hand to her temple. “My head is pounding.” She squinted her eyes. “Gosh, I think I’m getting a migraine. I’m so sorry, but I’m not sure this is a good idea tonight.” She tried to send him a sweet smile while her nerves were going berserk.
What was Logan doing?
How did he know she’d be there again?
Was he following her?
Was he a danger?
He was cuffed to a bed. How much of a danger could he be?
Pizza-guy frowned and crossed his arms. He seemed to grow three inches. “’Scuse me? You bailing? Now?”
Oh shit, he wasn’t happy. She had a split-second to choose between three options. Stand there and try to pacify pizza-guy. Make a run for it and hope to reach her car before a pissed off pizza-guy caught up with her.
Or slip into the room.
Where a possibly crazy stalker was waiting to fuck her.
Mouth in a thin line, pizza-guy took an aggressive step toward her.
Decision made.
“I’m sorry,” she rushed out as she shoved the key card back in the slot. “I really do need to lie down.” Maybe on top of the really sexy man in the bed.
With that, she used both hands to shove the door open a foot, ducked in the room, and forcefully closed the door behind her before resting her back against it. One loud smack against the door had her jumping, but then the heavy plod of pizza-guy’s footsteps faded as he left.
Her
gaze met Logan’s.
“That fucking dress.” Logan said shaking his head as his heated gaze traced her curves.
She did a little visual assessment herself. Jesus, he was buck naked and sprawled on her bed, having somehow arranged himself exactly as she’d done last week.
And had she mentioned he was naked? Naked and very buff with a smooth chest, rippling abs, a few scattered tattoos, and—
Oh, my God.
Naked and growing by the second.
She gaped at his rapidly expanding erection before raising her gaze back to his stubble-covered face. The man didn’t have a beard, but seemed to live by the it’s five o’clock somewhere ideal. Always looking just a few hours past overdue for a shave. At least, the two times she’d met him he appeared that way. For all she knew, in his normal life he shaved once an hour and just reserved the scruffy look for times he followed unsuspecting women to their hotel rooms and tied himself to their beds.
Naked and hard.
Logan shrugged as though the organ in question was functioning completely independent from the rest of him. “The dress is hot.”
The dress is hot? That’s all he had to say?
“H-how did you get in here?” She clutched her purse against her chest almost as a shield in case the man magically broke free and advanced on her.
With a wink, he said. “I have my ways.”
Yeah, he had his ways all right. He probably flexed one of those biceps and the damn room key tumbled right out of the receptionist’s hands and into his pocket. Though he seemed fully at ease with the situation, Chloe wasn’t prepared to let her guard down until she got answers to the five hundred questions pinging around her mind.
“How’d you get out last time?”
“A buddy uncuffed me.”
It made no sense. “How did he find you?”
“My iPhone was on the night stand there,” he said turning toward the night table. “I yelled for Siri, and she called my guy for me.”
Oh, huh. That actually made sense. She wasn’t sure if she’d have been so innovative were the positions reversed.
