Never Tied Down (The Never Duet Book 2)

by Anie Michaels

  “I’ll take an iced latte, please.”

  “Coming up.” He headed toward the counter and I took the opportunity to watch him walk away. He was dressed casually, jeans and a t-shirt, but the jeans made his ass look amazing. After a few moments of completely selfish, yet gratifying, ogling, I turned back to the table and eyed the script lying atop it. I peeked at the paper, then used a finger to swing it to face me, letting my eyes peruse it.

  It seemed to be a scene between Riot’s character and the person who played his rookie partner. I read it for a few pages and surmised the two characters were trying to out a dirty cop who was high up in the ranks.

  “I’d get in a lot of trouble if my producer knew I’d let you read my script. That’s the midseason cliffhanger you’re sneaking a peek at.”

  I smiled and turned his script back to him. “Looks exciting.”

  “You know, I really like the writers. They’ve got a good storyline going, or as far as I can tell they do, anyway.” He put my coffee in front of me and I felt like Pavlov’s dog, nearly drooling at the sight of the cup.

  “Thank you,” I sighed, then took a satisfying drink.

  “You’re welcome,” he said, a smile tugging at his lips as he sat down across from me again. “I’ll buy you coffee every day if I get to watch you take that dreamy first sip.”

  I gave him a flirty smile, but then took one more sip. “I slept for crap last night. This coffee is going to get me through the fittings I have scheduled this afternoon.”

  “Measuring more inseams?” He waggled his eyebrows at me and I couldn’t help the laugh that escaped me.

  “No, no inseams.” I blushed at the memory of kneeling in front of Riot, measuring tape in hand, praying he couldn’t see my hand shaking as I took his measurement. That was the day that had started everything between us, and I was glad I could look back on the memory with a smile. For the last couple of months, every memory that included Riot had sent me into a panic. I loved thinking about him, remembering the good moments between us, and having no apprehension.

  “Do you have any plans this weekend?”

  I shook my head. “None. I was just going to stay home and get some work done.”

  A slow and easy smile spread across his face. “My little sister’s birthday is this weekend and my family is having a party. Would you like to take a trip to San Francisco with me?”

  Suddenly, I didn’t need coffee to wake me up. Riot was asking me to go away with him for the weekend. One day after we’d started talking to each other again. I was wide awake. My heart rate picked up and my mind started working overtime. Sure, I wanted to spend time with him, wanted to explore where our relationship could go from here, but I didn’t think it would be going to San Francisco for the weekend. He must have seen the panic in my face, or noticed the way my entire body tensed at his question, because he immediately tried to soothe me.

  “Hey, Kal, listen. It was just a suggestion. I thought it would be fun to get away. No pressure.”

  “I’m sorry. That just really surprised me.” I felt terrible. First, because I didn’t want him to think I didn’t want to spend time with him, and second, because as soon as he started to tell me it was okay if I didn’t want to go, I wanted to go. Sure, my first reaction was terror, but once I thought about it for a moment, spending a weekend with Riot somewhere new sounded like the perfect way to ease back into whatever it was we were trying to build between us. “So, does your family know you’re inviting a woman to the family gathering?”

  “No. But they’d love to meet you, so I’m sure it wouldn’t be a problem.” He eyed me warily, which made me feel even worse.

  “Where would we stay? At your parents’ house?” The idea of seeing the house Riot grew up in made my belly warm, then the feeling spread throughout my body. Even though I’d fallen totally and madly in love with Riot months before, we’d actually learned quite little about each other. All he really knew of me was what I showed him, and all I knew of him was what I was able to surmise from a brief yet entirely passionate long-distance relationship.

  “Well, unfortunately, since I haven’t RSVP’d yet, all the rooms are spoken for, so we’d have to stay at a hotel. Obviously, we can get two rooms… if you’re worried about…”

  His voice trailed off and I wanted to end his misery. “I think it’d be really fun to go to San Francisco with you.”

  “Great,” he said on a sigh, obviously relieved. He smiled as he brought his coffee to his lips, and I couldn’t help but smile back.

  “How old is your sister turning? What is she into? I need gift ideas.”

  “She’s kind of a nerd,” he said in a big brother, teasing-with-love kind of way. “I usually just get her a gift card to her favorite bookstore and call it good.”

  “That’s very male of you.” I rolled my eyes at him, but then I smiled as a small laugh escaped my lips.

  “What’s wrong with a gift card?” he asked, feigning offense.

  “Nothing is wrong with a gift card, if you’re going for a completely impersonal gift. But if I’m meeting your family for the first time, I want to bring something that doesn’t scream, ‘I stopped at a grocery store five minutes ago to get your birthday present.’”

  “Ouch.” His hand came up to cover his heart and the wounded look he wore, with just one edge of his mouth tipped up, was absolutely adorable. Then his face went blank as he picked up his coffee again. “My sister loves my gift cards.”

  I laughed, then lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “I’m sure she does.”

  “I don’t want to monopolize all your time, but do you have plans on Wednesday evening? They’re playing that new scary thriller movie at the lot theatre. Wanna go see it with me?” His eyebrows were raised, eyes trained on me as he waited for my answer. Generally, I hated scary movies. When I was a teenager I’d loved them, enjoyed scaring myself silly with my friends at the movie theatre or late at night during a sleepover. But once I hit adulthood, I realized serial killers and ghosts were just one more thing to fear that I didn’t need, and found myself hating the entire genre of film. However, sitting in the studio’s movie theatre plush seats, built like love seats, didn’t sound like a bad way to spend an evening. Especially if it meant I could be close to Riot.

  “I think I could make time to see a movie with you,” I answered, trying not to sound too eager.

  “Great,” he said, his smile just as brilliant and beaming as I knew mine was.

  “Great,” I mimicked.

  “I guess we should both get back to work soon.” His eyes didn’t leave mine as he said the words and his smile didn’t dim at all either.

  “I guess we should.”

  “Have I mentioned how glad I am that you’re here?”

  The sudden change in topic and also the rawness of his words caught me off guard. My breath faltered, the last lungful of air stopped, waiting for me to relieve the tension and exhale. I opened my mouth to try to respond, to fill the empty space between us, but he spoke first.

  “I don’t know where this is headed, and I’m trying to not expect anything, but Kal, it’s nice to just sit here with you and see you smiling. Come what may, I’m glad you’re here.”

  “I’m glad I’m here too,” was all I could manage, and even that was whispered and gravelly. The breath that had been stalled was now a slightly painful lump in my throat and I tried to push it down, not wanting to ruin our happy moment with tears. But Riot’s words had done something to me, opened something up. I didn’t want to expect anything either, but I wanted to be happy, to be hopeful. This was the first time in eight years I’d been stationary, the first time I’d been standing still. I had a long-term job, a home in the same city as my job; nothing about my life in that moment was temporary. Everything felt heavier, weighed me down, held me in place.

  Months ago, that feeling—the weight of all the connections, obligations, and expectations—would have caused me to panic, sent me into a tailspin and I would have picked
up, moved, and run away. But sitting in that coffee shop with Riot, making plans to see his family, knowing he’d be there in a week, or a month, well, it lit me up. It warmed me. Caused parts of me that had been frozen for so long to thaw and melt away. The heat, both the heat I felt coming from him and the heat I felt inside myself, was breathtaking. This was the second time Riot had chased away my anxiety, fought the darkness and brought me into the light, and both times he’d done it with so much compassion and understanding, it was beyond amazing. It also wasn’t a coincidence. It wasn’t a coincidence that Riot had been the only man to make me safe and secure enough to feel. It was fate.

  I opened my mouth again, hoping my brain could form words enough to explain to him how, in that moment, I was beyond grateful for the unyielding support he’d always offered, even when that support came in the form of leaving me alone. But before I could tell him anything, before I could explain the enormity of what I was feeling, he stood up and smiled at me. He waited for me to follow, his expression telling me that he already knew everything I was feeling, that words weren’t necessary, that my being there was enough explanation.

  So I stood too. And I shivered when his hand met the small of my back as he guided me toward the exit, relishing the fact that my body was literally shivering just from one touch of his hand. We were both trying to play it smart, keep our hearts safe, but my body was leaps and bounds ahead of my head, and my body wanted his. He walked me to the entrance of my soundstage and I felt his hand leave my back only to gently grip my arm at the elbow. He turned me toward him, then his hands moved up my arm, over my shoulder, and stopped with his fingers tenderly wrapping around the side of my neck. He was just inches away and his scent was swirling around me, and my body went from wanting his, to aching for it.

  I couldn’t help the sigh the escaped me when he pressed his lips to the crown of my head. My eyes closed, I exhaled, and my body melted into his. My front pressed into his, my free hand coming to rest on his hip, and I let the connection between us wash over me. Even after all the months apart, he was my home.

  “I’ll text you,” he said quietly against my hair.

  “Okay,” I whispered, my fingers curling in at his waist, his t-shirt gathering in my clutch. He pressed a chaste kiss to my head again, then pulled away, taking his body and his shirt with him, even if I silently objected.

  “Later,” he said coolly, as he backed away from me.

  “Bye.” I brought my eyes up to meet his. He winked at me and I nearly passed out as all the blood rushed down from my head and left me dizzy.

  The light-headed feeling stayed with me until Wednesday, only exacerbated by the frequent texting happening between us, which was filled with flirting and sexual tension. When I met him outside the theater on the lot, the dizziness was still present but one smile from him and I was spinning.

  “You made it,” he said with a smile as I stopped just a step or two away from him.

  “I’m here. Ready to be scared to death.”

  He tilted his head to the side and furrowed his brow. “You don’t like scary movies?”

  “Used to, but then life got real and I didn’t need anything else to be afraid of.” The honest words flowed, surprising even me. I couldn’t help but feel lighter after I’d said them, almost enjoying that I’d shared something with him I normally wouldn’t have, and wasn’t panicking about it. I’d told him something real. Something true. I’d given him a tiny piece of me to hold on to.

  It made it all worth it when he seemed to mentally tuck the information away, turned toward me, wrapped his arm lightly around my shoulder, and said, “I’ll be sure to protect you.”

  The studio built an incredibly plush theatre, which was free and open to anyone who worked on the lot. It was fancy. That was really the only way it could be described. The studio understood the people who made the movies didn’t always have time to see them, so they built a theatre to make the movies more accessible. Also, sometimes the big Hollywood actors couldn’t just go to a movie theatre. Not that I expected to see someone famous. Usually the theatre was used by poor interns or other employees who couldn’t really afford to go to the movies in LA, as it was nearly as expensive as putting a down payment on a house.

  Plus, the popcorn was free and loaded with salt and butter.

  We found our seats, not too close to the front, and I started the process of getting comfortable. The seats, which weren’t like the ones in a normal theatre, were like soft, fluffy love seats. They were just big enough for two people to have enough space, but small enough that you were forced to share your personal space anyway. I had no qualms making myself at home. I stripped off my jacket, laying it over the arm of the seat, then took my shoes off. Riot looked at me with one eyebrow raised.

  “Did you bring your favorite pajamas too?”

  He was mocking me.

  “They pretty much invite you to pretend you’re at home with these chairs. I don’t want to be uncomfortable. I want to lounge. Especially if I’m going to watch a scary movie.”

  He held up both his hands in defense, but a smile was playing on his lips. “Hey, I wouldn’t want to stand in the way of your comfort. By all means, make yourself at home.”

  “I intend to,” I said, raising my chin in defiance. He was laughing at me, but he stopped when I settled next to him, my hips touching his. My feet were curled up under me to the side, forcing me to lean against him. No, he wasn’t laughing any longer. He was, however, smiling when he lifted his arm and coolly laid it behind me, his hand coming to rest on my shoulder. I let my body lean farther into him, taking the space his arm had vacated. I snuggled in a little closer and whispered, “Smooth.”

  I felt him laugh, but didn’t hear him. I did see his smile hiding behind his hand as his fingers covered his mouth. He was busted. I just smiled though, and leaned in a little farther, dipping my hand to pull a few popcorn kernels out of our tub and toss them in my mouth.

  “Hey,” he said quietly. I turned my head slightly to look up at him. “Hit me.” His mouth opened wide and stayed that way. I laughed, but relented, placing a few kernels in his mouth. He smiled as he started chewing. The theatre was pretty empty, typical for a Wednesday night, but in that moment it felt like we were the only ones in the room. I stared at his jaw as he chewed, watched his Adam’s apple dip when he swallowed, and couldn’t tear my eyes away from him for anything. He made popcorn sexy.

  He gave me a sharp nod. “One more hit, babe.” My hands were on autopilot and I deposited a few more pieces of popcorn in his mouth. He closed his lips around my finger before I had a chance to pull away. I drew in a faltering breath as he took his time sucking the salt and butter from my finger, his eyes never leaving mine. It was anything but innocent. It was raw, carnal, and only brought on images of Riot sucking on other parts of my body. Images I’d tried to bury for months, that hurt too much to think about for so long. Now, however, those pictures flooded my mind and I not only welcomed them, my mind took them farther, put him and me in new and equally hot scenarios where his mouth was latched on to my body for a variety of reasons in a variety of places.

  He pulled his mouth to the end of my finger, his tongue flat and dragging along the bottom of it, and just before my finger fell away, he pressed a kiss to the very end of it. It was, possibly, the most erotic thing I’d ever witnessed firsthand. And we were in a movie theatre. Surrounded by other people. I let out a shuddering breath and felt the crimson blush heat up my cheeks. He smiled at my obvious mortification, but pulled my shoulder closer to him. My lungs tripped again when I felt his breath feather over the skin just below my ear.

  “You taste good,” he growled, so low it was almost a whisper.

  “It’s the butter from the popcorn,” I stupidly responded, my words rushing out with the only breath I’d been able to take in since he’d fucked my finger with his mouth.

  “I give credit where it’s due, baby. You. Taste. Good.”

  He might as well have been
talking directly to my vagina for all the clenching he was causing. Riot and I had always done sexual tension well. It had been built up over the phone and explosive anytime we were physically near each other. It had been capped for so long, our desire for one another put on hold, forced into a proverbial darkness. Now that we’d kind of lifted the ban, I was afraid the passion we’d always had for each other was going to sweep us away on a wave of lust and potentially bad decisions.

  All those thoughts didn’t stop me from melting into him when he pulled my shoulder closer to him. It didn’t stop me from watching that horrifying movie, pressing my face into his chest when I wanted to scream. And it didn’t stop me from loving the way it felt to let him hold me, his thumb absently rubbing up and down the side of my shoulder, causing goose bumps to spread all over.

  When the lights came up and I heard the people around us shuffling to gather their belongings and leave the theatre, I frowned into him, not wanting to leave the little bubble of warmth we’d created. I was comfortable. More than that, I’d not had one heavy thought for two solid hours as I leaned against him, watching that scary excuse for a film.

  His arm gave me a gentle squeeze and I knew it was time to get up. I frowned again, but moved away from him, leaning down to grab my shoes. We didn’t say anything as we stood, but he reached down and took my hand, linking our fingers, and leading the way.

  It had been so long since I held his hand; all the schoolgirl butterflies came back, flooding my belly. Instinctively, my free hand wrapped around his arm, holding that sexy, strong part of him close to me.

  He walked me all the way to my car, taking my keys from me and opening my door. I smiled at his familiar chivalrous ways, then turned to tell him thank you. I was startled by his body pressing into mine, forcing me to back up into the side of my car. His hands were suddenly resting on the curve of my hips, mine finding their natural resting place against his chest, and my face turning up to look at him. My breathing sped up and my eyes searched his, hoping I’d see something in them that would give me answers to the questions spinning in my head with his body pressed so firmly against mine.