by Stacy Gail
She didn’t move, except for a head tilt when he didn’t go on. She’d pressed him for answers to who he really was, and she’d be willing to bet he’d already given her more than he’d ever given to anyone in his life. It was now up to him to trust her all the way, or decide she wasn’t worth the effort.
Was it any wonder she was holding her breath?
A slow smile appeared. “Damn, you’re good. You’re not going to let up, are you?”
Now he was getting it. “No way, pal. You’re worth the effort it takes to get to know you.”
Something softened in his expression at her words. “The fact is, you already know this part of my life.”
“I do?”
“Remember the door I drew on the wall to escape reality when shit went sideways—my escape into Paradise? My need to control things started there. That drawing of a door leading to another place was my first attempt to control the world around me. I needed to control that, because the actual world I lived in was total, chaotic shit.”
The darkness in his tone made something inside her cringe. “Tell me.”
He looked out at the night-washed city. “My mom was a prostitute, and dear old Dad—I think he was my dad, anyway, because I wound up looking like him, complete with height and size—was her pimp. She worked her corner on Racine whenever she wasn’t strung out or locked up in County, and my dad was no better. I don’t even know why they had me. I was born addicted. I wasn’t in the world an hour before my mother was handcuffed to a hospital bed. There’s something called neonatal abstinence syndrome—basically newborns going through withdrawal—and I had it bad. Took me three months to get out of the hospital, but it was my father who took me home. My mom was still in jail.”
“Wow,” Ivy whispered, while her heart cracked down the middle for the baby he’d once been. “You’re a miracle, you know that? Anyone who comes into the world with that strike against them has a tough road ahead of them, but you made it. More than that, you’ve fought to make yourself a success beyond what most people can even imagine. You should be proud of everything you’ve overcome to get to where you are today, Tag.”
“Nah.” He grimaced, and for the first time since she’d known him, he looked almost embarrassed. “Pride’s a sucker’s trap that I’m smart enough to steer well clear of. And when I think about where I came from, keeping it humble is a snap. I’m not even sure how I survived babyhood, because my parents were total shit. My first memory of life is one of pain. I was so hungry I was trying to eat a toy, then I got smacked because of it. That was the story of my early childhood—being desperate and helpless at every goddamn turn.”
Her eyes began to sting. “I can’t imagine what that would do to a little kid.”
“What I remember most about my first years of life is being angry. That’s it, just…angry. Every waking moment. When you’re stuck in a day-to-day hell like that, burning up with rage is the only way to survive. When I was seven my parents got their asses locked up again, this time on a heavy drug charge, and I wound up in the foster care system. The home I landed in…I’ll never forget it. Talk about culture shock.”
She was afraid to ask. “Was it awful?’
He shook his head. “Just the opposite. All of a sudden I had three squares a day, served at a dining room table that had forks and spoons and napkins and shit. I didn’t know what to do with that. Until then I thought all food was to be eaten with your fingers, unless it was still too hot from the microwave.”
She had to close her eyes against the sting of tears. “No home-cooked meals, then?”
“What is home-cooked, exactly? I take it your definition isn’t a microwave dinner or a freeze-dried square of ramen you drop in a pan of boiling water?”
“No.” She opened her eyes and tried to give him a smile, while inside the hurting for him went on and on. “Someday I’ll show you the definition of home-cooked.”
“I’ll hold you to that.” The warmth of his smile wasn’t something she’d soon forget. “This foster home had other things I’d never had before—doors, for one thing. I could close my door so I could have my own personal space and didn’t have to shut out my mom turning a trick no more than ten feet away. I had clean clothes and clean sheets, and I had shoes that I didn’t have to tape up because I hadn’t gotten them second-hand from a charity shelter. It was fucking perfect.”
“I can imagine.”
“But even more than all the material shit, the most important thing I’d gained by landing in that house was something I’ll never forget. The people around me weren’t perpetually pissed off that I was somehow still alive. You do not know how different life can be—how different life can feel—when you’ve got people who don’t resent the fact that you’re still breathing. It was a fucking shock to have people smile when I walked into a room, or have them say good morning or good night. I’d never had that before.”
It was impossible to wrap her mind around how barren his life must have been. “My God.”
“The people I landed with didn’t live in a mansion. They weren’t saints. They were just decent. That was when I realized that life, and how you lived it, was a choice. I didn’t want chaos. I didn’t want zero control. My choice was that I wanted decent, because that was my idea of heaven.”
The crack in her heart widened. “I’m so glad you landed in that home. How long were you there?”
“Three years, four months and two weeks. Pissed me the hell off when my social worker came along and carted me away.”
The crack turned into a chasm. He’d loved it there so much he’d kept the memory of how long he’d been there. “Why?”
“My mom. She was up for parole. At her hearing she swore to the parole board that she’d changed her ways, and all she cared about was getting out so she could take care of the darling baby boy she loved so fucking much.” His scoff was a mix of frustration and dark humor, and it hurt her to hear it. “It was an epic load of bullshit, but she must’ve put on a helluva show, because the parole board ate it up with a spoon. They let that bitch out and forced me back into that shithole life. I had no control over where they sent me, but I was old enough at that point to keep the hell away from her crazy-ass shit. I started hanging out on the streets more and more. That’s when my focus on art really took off.”
“Wow,” she said again, putting a hand to the ache in her chest. “You were so young. I can’t believe you avoided being recruited by one of the gangs. The Racine Radicals were big back then, and the Yard Kings and Backyard Killerz were just getting started, along with about a dozen others.”
He lifted a shoulder and again looked out at the city lights. “I was a big kid, even back then. I’d developed a rep for taking my frustrations out on anyone who bothered me when I was creating, to the point where people generally believed I was insane. If you think you’re cranky when you get disturbed while you’re working, you haven’t seen me, especially back then. Insane didn’t begin to cover it.”
“Note to self—don’t bother Tag when he’s working.”
He slanted her a sharp smile. “I’ve gotten better in my old age, so you’ve got nothing to fear from me. But back in the day I was given a wide berth. Not to mention I did a lot of tagging work for a local gang that approached me—wanted their tags and their logo to look professional, if you can fucking believe it. I did it on the assurance that they’d stay the hell out of my way and that they’d protect my tagging areas so I could be left alone to create in peace. It worked. They did. And what’s really hilarious is that now those assclowns have gone into marketing all that artwork I did for them back in the day. It’s become their fucking brand.”
“That’s so American, it’s not even funny.” She took a step closer to him, making his gaze swing back her way. “Do you ever see your parents? Are they still alive?”
“My dad is, I think. He got out about a year after my mom, then got caught robbing a pawn shop a few years later. As far as I know, he’s still behind bars. My mom
ODed when I was about seventeen or so. I was declared an emancipated minor—State was done yanking me around from pillar to post, and I was seriously fucking done with being yanked on. The moment I was free, I was out of there.”
She took another step. “There was a woman at the beginning of your mural, Paradise…”
“Yeah. That’s dear old Mom. Betty Crocker, she wasn’t.”
She shivered. “So…all this made you decide that being in control of everything around you—even the people in your life—is the only way to roll?”
Slowly he came to his feet. “That’s right.”
“Even though you know what it’s like to be controlled, and how much you hated it?”
“I hated it because no one who had control over me gave a shit about whether I lived or died. I don’t give a lot of thought to the kind of guy I am, Ivy, but the one thing I know I try to be is fucking decent,” he said, and pushed a strand of hair behind her ear. “You throw in with me, the one and only thing I’ll ever care about is your happiness. That’s part of what gives me satisfaction—knowing my woman is so happy with me she’s willing to give herself over to me with absolute trust. You do that with me, that means you know I’ll take care of you, and you have no doubt that I’d turn the world inside out just to make you smile. Just the thought of you giving me that gift… Look.” He held up the hand that had brushed her hair away, and her eyes widened when she saw the faint tremor in it. “Just thinking about it makes me shake. But I can’t force you to give me what I want. In the end, you’re the one who has absolute control over that, not me.”
With great deliberation, she reached up and took that hand in hers, then met his gaze head-on. “One thing,” she said, digging deep for the honesty she’d demanded from him. “The relationships I’ve had up to this point could probably be referred to as vanilla.”
“Sex only happens in the bedroom.” There was laughter in his eyes as he spoke—not mean, just genuinely amused. “Yeah, I’ve been getting that vibe.”
Good. “So I guess it’s fair to say that I’d never even heard of edging before. I’ve certainly never tried it before today.”
“Did you like it, or not?”
“I think… Yes, I did.” Decision made, a tiny knot of tension in her chest evaporated and she nodded once. “My point is, I didn’t know about it. So, if you’ve got any more, shall we say, unusual tendencies, I’d prefer that you tell me about it before it’s a done deal. What I didn’t like about today was my confusion, and the humiliating feeling that you could just walk away as if you didn’t feel any desire for me at all.”
“Damn my ass for making you feel that way for even a second.” The news that she’d taken it personally seemed to upset him, if his scowl was any indication. “For what it’s worth, you’ve got that all wrong, tiger. To look at you is to witness every man’s embodiment of a wet dream. To touch you is a privilege that makes me thank my lucky stars every fucking time. To kiss you is to get a taste of heaven. And to fuck you…” A slow smile chased away the scowl. “That’s something that still exists only in my fantasies, but they’re the hottest fucking fantasies I’ve ever had. Just the thought of you has launched a thousand hard-ons already, and I’m not afraid to admit that. The one thing that’ll never happen is a lack of desire for you. I guaran-fucking-tee that.”
Each word resonated deep inside her until they were all she could feel. “You could have anyone, especially now that the world knows that this incredibly gorgeous man before me and the mysterious and internationally famous artist known only as Tag are one and the same. Why me?”
“If you’re asking that question, I can’t help but think you haven’t met yourself.” His fingers slid through her hair as if fascinated by the feel. “From the moment I saw you, so defiant and brilliant and yeah, upset and vulnerable, I wanted to guide you out of the storm that was around you. You’re volatile as hell, but that’s part of what makes you the sexiest woman I’ve ever known. I want you, exactly as you are. Give me a chance, and you could discover that I’m exactly what you want, too.”
“You are.” The words were out before she gave them a thought, but that was all right. There was no need to overthink the truth. “I’ve never wanted anyone the way I want you.”
That slow smile of his bloomed gain, making her toes curl. “Then I guess I’d better get busy on fulfilling that promise I made earlier.”
“Promise?”
“Edging is always a promise of pleasure to come.” His fingers squeezed hers. “So let’s get you coming with that pleasure.”
Chapter Ten
Ivy wasn’t sure what she expected—maybe a trip back downstairs to her apartment and the privacy of her bedroom.
What she wasn’t expecting was for Tag to hoist her up onto the low concrete ventilation bunker he’d been leaning against earlier. Momentarily baffled, she quickly figured out his train of thought when he cupped the undersides of her knees and opened them so he could stand between them. Then he leaned in for a deep dive of a kiss that blew her temperature into the stratosphere and made her wish she could somehow fuse his mouth to hers forever.
His kiss was more than just a kiss.
It was a statement that pure, unadulterated sex loomed large on the horizon.
Finally.
Just when she began to lose touch with reality, he broke the kiss to nuzzle his face against hers. “This roof is a favorite place of yours, yeah?”
Her lips pulsed with the imprint of his. “Yes.”
“Who else uses it?”
“No one. That’s why I like it. It’s like my private playground where I can make whatever beauty I want.”
“I know what you want to do right now,” he murmured against her lips, stoking her hunger for his mouth until it was almost painful. “You want to come, don’t you, baby?”
Excitement and understanding hit so hard it punched the air out of her lungs. “Wait. Do you mean here? Right here in the open? Now?”
“You’re so fucking cute when it comes to overthinking the location.” He chuckled and delved his fingers into her hair. “It’s high time I cured you of that.”
“But anyone could come up—”
“The threat of being discovered gives it that much more spice.” The fingers at her knees pulled her closer, so that the heat of her sex and his body mingled until it was all she could focus on. “I’ll tell you this much—if anyone did come up for an eyeful, they’d die of jealousy that they’re not us.”
There had to be something wrong with her when that thought made the wetness between her legs surge. “We’re going to put on that good of a show, are we?”
“Not a show. From start to finish when it comes to us, it’s all real.” He kissed her again, while his eyes looked into hers. “You know that, don’t you? This is as real as it gets.”
She nodded, before her gaze slid to the roof-access door. “It’s just—”
“Listen to me, Ivy. The only thing I want you to do now is feel. That’s it. Let go of the worry and all the hang-ups you’ve got going on. Let me take care of everything. Let me take care of you.”
Some unnamed tension she hadn’t even known was there loosened at the assurance that he’d take care of her, because deep down she knew he meant it all the way to his soul. He would take care of her. He would take the burden of worry from her shoulders, to allow her to do nothing but enjoy him.
Bless this man.
“Okay,” she whispered, her hands sliding from his chest to his shoulders. “You’re in charge.”
“Damn straight, tiger.” His smile was a gift, and suddenly she had no doubt. Whatever the future held, taking a chance on Tag was one move she’d never regret. “Now, I gotta know something.”
“Anything.” She meant it too.
“It’s been killing me ever since you opened the door tonight.” His hands were on her thighs, sliding over them as if he couldn’t get enough of the feel of her. “You wearing anything under this?”
“Oh.
” She’d been so wrapped up in him, she’d forgotten what she was wearing. “No.”
“Good,” he said simply and bent to run his tongue where his hand had been seconds before. “Brace your hands behind you and lean back. Don’t touch me until I say so.”
She complied with a speed that shocked the hell out of her. “Why?”
“Because if you touch me in any way, I’m going to lose what little control I have left, and this won’t be as memorable for you as I want it to be.” He lifted the gauzy material off her lap, causing her to shiver as the night breeze sifted silkily over her heated, bared flesh. “Don’t talk anymore, because I’ll answer. And if I’m answering, that means I’m not eating your pussy and making you lose your fucking mind. Nod if you agree that this would be a terrible waste of time.”
Nothing in the world could have stopped her from nodding.
“Wise choice, tiger.” And with that, he lowered his head.
The muscles in Ivy’s leg jumped when he ran his tongue over the sensitive flesh of her inner thigh. She bit her lip to stop herself from telling him that he didn’t need to prime her with any more anticipation. After he’d introduced her to edging, the last thing she needed was to be primed.
“Drape your legs over my shoulders,” he commanded, and it was a relief to do exactly as he said. His hands came to her cleft, parting her intimate folds that throbbed and ached with need. “You’re so wet, so ready to be fucked. You don’t know how sweet that is. Let’s see if you taste just as sweet.”
Yes.
Her breath came in shallow, excited puffs as she watched his head lower, and the anticipation ratcheted so high she shook with it. Then his tongue swirled around the clit his fingers exposed, and her whole body jolted.
Heaven.
She wasn’t going to survive this.
“Hold still.” One hand stayed at her pussy while the other one slid under her to grip her butt cheek. “I don’t like moving targets, so don’t move until I tell you to.”
