by Carter Blake
He watches me momentarily, his gaze falling to my lips. “Nah, that’s far from it. You want me inside you again, making you moan until you can barely stand.” He shrugs like what he’s saying is no big deal. “It’s okay, though. You’re not the only one.”
Then, he winks.
I want to lose it on him, tell him he’s certifiably insane, and laugh in his face.
But I can’t.
Because he’s right.
And if I lie and tell him otherwise, I’m just punishing myself. God, why am I so scatterbrained and cluster-fucked over this guy?
“Your silence tells me all I need to know, Elise.”
I realize then that I’m sitting there with my mouth partway open, still staring at his mouth, replaying the way they’d uttered moan until you can barely stand so seductively.
“You don’t know anything,” I say in an attempt to regain my composure. But my voice is in a lower octave, and it’s weak.
Damn it, how can he read me like that?
“Maybe not, but I would if you told me.”
I steal a glance toward the doorway, and he must notice because he clears his throat.
“How about I tell you something about me? Would that even the playing field a bit?” He hesitates only for a split second, not giving me time to refuse him. “Well, you know I own Magenta. Half of it, anyway. I own it with my best friend, Danny. You saw him…that night.” He swallows. “Even though I own that nightclub, I can count on one hand how many times I’ve been there during open hours. I’m more of a silent partner, you could say.”
“You own a nightclub, but don’t actually go to it?” My eyebrows raise.
“If I’m there, it’s to work on the books, the orders, or payroll. Danny is the more social of the two, I suppose.”
“So, why were you there…when you met me?” I’m hesitant to ask the question, knowing something big is coming. He’d said his girlfriend left him for someone else, but my gut is telling me there’s more.
Cam gives me a sad smile. “I wasn’t lying when I said my girlfriend cheated on me.”
“The girl from the grocery store.”
He nods. “Yeah. Seems she’s seen the error of her ways,” he explains sarcastically.
“She also seems like she’s not over you.”
His jaw is clenched. “I think what actually happened is that her fuck buddy is now over her. And she thinks saying she’s sorry will smooth things over with me. It doesn’t work that way, I’m afraid.”
“She left you for someone else, and expects you to just forgive her? Jesus Christ.” I shake my head, feeling a bit calmer as he speaks. Mostly because he’s not interrogating me. “I’m sorry she did that to you, by the way.”
Cam nods, taking a long drink from his mug. “Why were you at Magenta that night?”
So much for avoiding the interrogation. “Blowing off steam,” I say simply.
He studies me. “It wasn’t your first time there.”
The way he says it makes my blood pound hard in my ears. His gaze locks with mine. Defiantly, I don’t look away. “If you’ve got something to say, Cam, just say it.”
He sighs. “After you left that night, I went back downstairs to the bar in search of you. José said—”
“Who?”
“The bartender.”
Shit. I knew he’d seen me before.
“José said he’d seen you leave in a hurry. He also told me you frequented the place quite often.”
“I like Magenta.”
“Yet, you haven’t been back since the night you and I were together.”
My eyes are like burning daggers as I stare into his. “Things changed that night.”
“What changed?” He leans forward, knowing full well he’s chipping away at the foundation I’ve built my defensive walls on.
“The rules.”
“What rules, Elise?”
I can’t look away from him. Every synapse in my brain is firing wildly, and my expression is almost pained as I speak. “It was supposed to just be about sex.”
“But it wasn’t.” He says it matter-of-factly, watching me with the intensity of a man seeking out a lifeline to latch on to.
I shake my head. “It wasn’t.”
Cam lets out a long breath, running his hand through his sandy hair. “Finally,” he chuckles.
“I don’t know what I’m supposed to do about you,” I admit, and my shoulders slump defeatedly.
Slowly, Cam’s hand reaches across the table, taking mine in his. “We’ll figure it out, Elise.”
“You shouldn’t want me,” I admit, pulling my hand from within his, even though his touch is more of a comfort than I expect.
“And why’s that?”
“Because of the way I’ve acted…the things I’ve done.”
“Because I’m not the first guy you’ve pulled that stunt with, you mean?”
His words hit me like a tsunami, my eyes widening. He knows.
“José told me, Elise. He’s behind that bar almost every night. He sees most things that go on at Magenta. And it’s okay. I’m not judging you.”
“But why not?” I exclaim, exasperated. “I’ve been using men…I used you…”
“Elise!” he hisses, grappling for my hand again and holding it tightly. “Jesus, calm down.” He rubs his thumb across my knuckles. “It’s not what you’ve done that concerns me, okay? It’s why. Who hurt you?”
“What?” His question takes me aback.
“You go to bars to meet men you have no desire to actually know—”
“I sleep with them.” If he wants brutal honesty, that’s what he’ll get. Though the truth is, I don’t sleep with all of them, and most times I can’t bring myself to go through with it, but I want him to hear the worst-case scenario. I want him to know I’m no good for him.
Cam swallows. “Right. Now, why?”
“Why do I need to fuck multiple men?” His question strikes me as funny, and the corner of my mouth turns up. I hope it hides the glistening of tears I can feel welling up in my lower eyelids.
He leans forward. “Fucking is just biology, darling. We all do it, because it feels so good. What I’m asking is why you seek out different men with no intention of anything more.”
“Have you ever had casual sex with someone, Cam?”
“I thought that’s what it was supposed to be when I was with you, but it turns out I’m not very good at it.” He’s trying to lighten the conversation, but it’s too late for that. “No, I haven’t,” he adds. “I can’t say I have.”
A man that’s never had casual, no-strings-attached sex. It seems like such an odd, unbelievable notion. But I believe him. “Then, you wouldn’t understand.”
“Try me.” He squeezes my hand for encouragement, and the heat that emanates from his fingers into my palm gives me the strength to confess to something I’ve never said out loud to anyone.
“Because,” I sigh, “It’s the only part of a relationship I’m any good at.”
His eyes widen, and I’m not sure whether he wants to laugh or have me committed. “Elise, you can’t possibly believe—”
“I can’t get hurt if it’s just sex, Cam. My heart can’t be broken if it’s not involved in the first place.”
Cam’s mouth opens, then clamps shut again. He’s obviously warring with himself as to how to respond, but he doesn’t let go of my hand.
“That’s why you wouldn’t let me kiss you. Because it was just sex.”
“Too personal,” I admit, looking away. “Too intimate.”
A muted scoffing sound emits from his throat, and he runs his hands down his face. “I’ll ask you again. Who hurt you?”
His eyes are soft now, not pushing or demanding an answer. He’s patient, and waits for me to formulate my answer.
I have to give him credit. I’m quiet long enough that most people would think I’m not going to bother replying at all, but Cam just waits silently, giving me the time and tender touch tha
t I need. To me, that says volumes about the man. Maybe that’s why I tell him the truth.
“I was engaged. More than engaged, I guess. On the day of my wedding, dressed in a ridiculous fairy tale wedding gown, my fiancé, Josh, was in one of the bathroom stalls screwing one of my bridesmaids.”
Cam’s thumb halts its movement across my knuckles. “Elise, I’m—”
“That bridesmaid was my sister.”
“Jesus.”
Just saying it out loud, even after a couple years, makes my blood boil. I don’t even realize I’m squeezing Cam’s hand violently until he sets his other hand over mine to pry my fingers up.
“Easy…” He gives me a sad smile. “I’m so sorry. I don’t even know what to say.”
“There’s nothing you can say.”
“Maybe words aren’t what you need, anyway,” he offers. “Maybe you just need someone to show you that we’re not all assholes.”
“You’d have your work cut out for you,” I say, and there’s no amusement in my voice.
“It just so happens I don’t shy away from challenges.” His grin is small, but encouraging.
It makes me laugh, which surprises me just as much as the fact that I believe him.
“What time do you work?” he asks suddenly.
“I don’t.”
“Day off?”
“Lost my job just after I met you.” I’m being just way too damn honest with this man. It should be freaking me out, especially seeing as my own mother had called and I hadn’t even had the decency to admit to her that I’m unemployed. But it feels surprisingly good to speak about it all, to set free all the things I’ve kept tucked away with me for so long.
“Jesus,” he says again. “You’ve had quite the streak of bad luck, darling.”
“Thanks, Captain Obvious.”
Suddenly, his phone dings and he pulls it from his back pocket.
“Shit, I forgot I was supposed to be getting lunch for Danny and I,” he chuckles, staring at the screen. “We’re going through—”
His eyes light up as he raises his gaze to mine. “Oh, Elise. Have I got a deal for you.”
My eyes narrow, but his animated features have me grinning suspiciously in spite of myself. “Should I be worried?”
“One of Magenta’s waitresses just quit.”
He wants to hire me?
“Cam, I can’t work for you. I can’t work for someone I’ve had sex with.”
“Now, was that ‘had sex with’, as in past tense? Or ‘will have sex with’, as in it could happen again in the future?” he smirks.
I laugh, shaking my head. “Both. Maybe.”
He pretends to wipe his brow. “Fine. We’ll just have Danny hire you instead.”
Chapter 8
CAM
Despite every primal urge that Elise awakens within me, she also has the ability to crush me from the inside out.
Which is exactly what it felt like when she so bluntly stated that sex was the only part of a relationship she was any good at.
It both angered me and deeply saddened me that another man had succeeded in hurting such a beautiful, vibrant woman so irrevocably that she’d actually believe something like that.
If I ever get the chance to meet Josh, I’ve got a feeling I’d be able to communicate exactly how I feel about the asshole without saying so much as a word. I’d ruin him.
Calm the hell down, Rambo.
I’ve never been a fighter, but Elise seems to have the ability to bring out the worst in me.
And the best.
It’s only been a week since she reluctantly accepted Danny and I’s offer to work at Magenta. She’d been so riled up about it, so anxious—about me being her boss, and her working in a place she’d so frequently picked up other men—that her anxiety actually made me worry about it, too.
But things have been going over well. She shows up on time, and everyone else seems to get along with her quite nicely. She actually seems…comfortable.
We haven’t had sex either, not since that first illicit rendezvous in my office.
It seems like that was a lifetime ago. Yet, even the brisk thought of her pinned against that wall, rocking her hips madly and moaning my name, makes my cock harden in an instant.
We haven’t had sex again, but we’ve managed to spend almost every waking moment together since our confessions at the coffee shop. Just being in her presence makes my body ache with how badly I want her, and I can tell from her furtive glances and lust-filled eyes that she wants me, too.
She hasn’t kissed me yet either, and I haven’t tried.
I need to show Elise that she’s more than a sex object, and that there’s more to having someone in her life than just the physical release.
I want her to want me, not just the physical satisfaction that I can give her. If that makes me selfish in some way, to hell with it.
Just seeing her, though, especially dressed in the sexy little mini dress and dangling earrings the way she is right now, as she sashays across the floor of the nightclub to drop off drinks to one of the tables of patrons, makes me ache with desire.
She looks stunning. Even from my vantage point at the railing upstairs in front of my office that looks out over the club, I can see her smile. It’s authentic, and it does something to me.
Goddamn, I want her so bad.
I swallow down the wave of animalistic need, and shake my head to blur the mental images I’m conjuring in my head.
Fuck, what has she done to me?
I’m about to turn and head back into my office—spending time with Elise during the day has cut in on my time at the office enough that I’ve taken to working when she is—when, out of the corner of my eye, I see her throw her arm back.
I peer down over the railing, my palms pressing violently against it.
She’s not smiling anymore as she balances her tray of Coronas in one hand. She’s placing the beers on the table now, and I’ve almost got myself convinced I’m just being overly protective.
That’s when I see one of the guys at the table reach out again and touch her forearm, causing her to pull her hand away again.
I don’t fucking think so.
In record time, I’m down the stairs and pushing through the crowds to get to her. Elise is just placing the last beer bottle on the table, her face flushed with embarrassment as the guys laugh in unison.
“Is there a problem here?” I bark over the music.
The man I’ve narrowed my gaze on is staring at me with glossy eyes. Drunk and looking for a fight, obviously. Well, it’s a fight he’s looking for with me. With Elise? He’s got other plans, judging by the way he grabbed her.
“No problem, man.” He’s still laughing.
Elise looks up at me, wide-eyed and pleading. “It’s fine, boss.”
“You may not have a problem,” I say through gritted teeth, “But when I see someone touching my…staff member, I’ve damn well got a problem with that.”
I’ve owned this club for a few years with Danny, and not once have I ever interjected when it came to unruly behavior or drunken customers.
“Touching?” The man howls with exaggerated laughter, high-fiving the guy on his left, who’s obviously just as inebriated. “Dude, I’ve done way more than touch that broad.”
I don’t think, I just swing. My fist connects with the man’s nose, and I can feel a sickening crunch beneath my knuckles. A couple of the guys stand up abruptly, shocked and possibly prepared to defend their buddy’s honor.
“What the fuck!” The asshole exclaims, holding his nose as blood begins to seep through the gaps in his fingers.
A crowd has formed now, but I’m beyond giving a damn. I don’t even look at Elise.
“Get your drunken friends, and get the fuck out of here. You hear me? And don’t you ever come in here and think you can put your hands on her, or anyone else in here. Understand?” My words carry over the music.
The man’s friends help him from his chair
where he’s crouched. One of them glances up at me, obviously soberer than the others, opens his mouth, then wisely closes it again.
“Don’t let me see you in here again. Get out,” I snap.
My eyes never waver as I watch the group of men huddle together, shuffling out the exit doors. Joey, one of my bouncers, gives me a stern nod. He’ll make sure they leave the property without further incident.
“What the hell, Cam?” Elise hisses.
Her voice is barely a whisper against the bass of the music, but I hear her.
“My office. Now.”
She eyes me warily, but lowers the tray to her side and heads toward the stairs, leading the way.
Upstairs, she’s barely inside the door before I slam it closed and lock it. “Did he hurt you?”
She rounds on me. “What? No! I told you, I’m fine. It was nothing I couldn’t handle.”
“Oh, it’s handled, all right.” I run my hands through my hair in an attempt to calm myself down.
“You can’t just fly off the handle every damn time someone—”
“I wasn’t going to let that guy manhandle you like that, Elise!”
She huffs, shaking her head. “I knew this would happen. Someone would come in that I—”
“How many?”
Her eyes narrow. “What?”
“How many guys, Elise?” I spit out.
“None of your fucking business,” she replies. Her jaw is clenched now. I’ve hit a nerve.
Damn it, I have to calm down.
“Christ…” I mumble, stepping away from her to pace across the room. “This is insane.”
She throws the tray onto the floor, and it clatters loudly between us. “Don’t act like you didn’t know—”
“I don’t mean you!” I yell, turning to her. “Or who you did, or how fucking many!”
I kick the tray, but the racket it makes only succeeds in causing Elise to flinch.
I certainly don’t feel any better. Especially since my anger is scaring her.
My heart plummets when she simply shakes her head and turns away from me, heading toward the door.
“Wait.” I practically dive toward her, pressing my hand against the door. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked you that. I mean it, it doesn’t fucking matter.”
