Tame

by Colet Abedi

  Luckily, the buzz from the drinks distracts me from heading down that dark path, and I blissfully choose to ignore my current predicament. And I have to admit, it feels good to be out and not obsessing about Michael at my apartment alone.

  Stephen, one of Tom’s friends, hasn’t left my side from the moment I walked into the pub. Danielle must have told him I’m the single friend because he can’t be more attentive. I’m flattered by the attention. Stephen’s cute, with his sandy blond hair and brown eyes, and is also very nice. He’s a broker at one of the big firms, and his attentiveness is exactly what I need.

  “Are you having fun yet?” Danielle whispers loudly into my ear as the guys cheer on the soccer match.

  “I am,” I tell her gratefully as I take a sip of my cocktail. We’re standing around one of the large tables. “I think you realized what I needed more than I did. Thank you for making me come out with you tonight.”

  “I told you,” Danielle replies matter-of-factly, sounding as drunk as I feel. “This will show Michael!”

  “Yes, it will!” I agree, lifting my drink to cheers with her.

  We clink glasses.

  “Oh my,” Danielle says in surprise as she looks over my shoulder toward the door to the pub. “I just knew it… but then I didn’t really know. But then I kind of did.”

  “Are you drunk?” I laugh in confusion.

  “Undoubtedly, but not drunk enough to be seeing things. Not yet, at least,” she says with a happy smile. “Don’t look now, Abby. Michael is here.”

  My heart stops.

  He’s here?

  “I think I might faint,” I whisper to her in disbelief.

  My stomach starts to do somersaults.

  “Me too,” Danielle whispers back.

  “I’m going to die,” I continue on dramatically.

  “Don’t die just yet,” she tells me in a no-nonsense voice before the look on her face changes. She smiles in pleasure as Michael walks over to us.

  The energy shifts around me. And the pub suddenly feels too small for the both of us.

  “Michael.” Danielle’s voice is too damn cheerful. “I’m so happy you stopped by. I thought you might.”

  “I’m sure you did.” His voice sounds almost accusatory.

  Danielle doesn’t seem to notice.

  I hate that my heart skips a beat at the sound of his voice.

  I hate that my body has gone on high alert.

  I hate that he has to be the one to make me feel so alive.

  “Your first drink is on me,” Danielle says to Michael. “I’ll get your favorite whiskey. Keep Abby company for me, will you.”

  She gives him an insolent pat on the cheek before walking away.

  I want to kill her for leaving me alone with him.

  Michael’s presence invades every part of my senses. I try my best to stay utterly still and ignore him. But he’s not having it. His hand rubs my shoulder.

  “Abby.”

  Static.

  Electricity.

  The kind that jolts you from the dead back to life.

  That’s the feeling that comes over me from a single touch.

  “Michael.” I gather the courage to look over at him.

  He looks impossibly sexy, wearing a black leather jacket that fits his broad shoulders like butter. I lick my lips nervously and try to act cool. But I can’t tell what he’s thinking.

  “Having fun?” His voice is polite, his eyes hooded.

  “Yes,” I reply, finishing off my drink.

  “I’m glad.”

  “Are you?” I wonder.

  Michael’s eyes flicker in surprise.

  “Why wouldn’t I be?”

  Because every time I’m having fun with you, you pull the rug out from underneath me and rob me of my moment of joy.

  Before I can answer Stephen takes that moment to walk over to us and hands me a fresh drink.

  “I noticed you were running low,” he says politely.

  I feel Michael’s body stiffen next to me.

  “Thank you,” I reply with a grateful smile then motion toward Michael. “Stephen, have you met Michael Sinclair?”

  Stephen’s eyes light up in recognition.

  “Pleasure to meet you,” he says, holding out his hand.

  From the look on Michael’s face, you’d think he was just asked to eat glass. The look on his face is cold and dismissive. Thankfully, Stephen’s either too smashed or to in awe to notice.

  Michael shakes his hand but doesn’t return the sentiment.

  There’s an uncomfortable silence.

  “I’m a big fan of the work you do,” Stephen says with a friendly smile.

  “Are you?” Michael replies, shifting his body into mine, effectively trapping me between him and the table.

  His stance is territorial.

  Stephen’s eyes narrow as he takes note, like he’s trying to figure out what the story is between us.

  “So, you’re Danielle and Abby’s boss,” Stephen continues on, completely unaware of the angry energy Michael is emanating.

  “I am.” Michael’s response is abrupt, rude almost.

  “He’s also my cousin,” I blurt that piece of information out.

  My comment seems to appease Stephen… but Michael on the other hand…

  His body stiffens.

  His mood shifts into something dangerous.

  And volatile.

  “Then I’m sure you won’t mind if I ask her to dance with me,” Stephen says as he holds out his hand.

  “Of course he won’t mind,” I say with a laugh trying to make a joke of it. I place my drink down on the table and use the opportunity to push past my tormentor and take Stephen’s hand.

  I’m too afraid to even look at Michael in the eye.

  Stephen leads me out to the makeshift dance floor, and I try my best to pretend Michael isn’t there. The combination of good music and alcohol helps because it doesn’t take long for me to start enjoying myself. Stephen spins me around, and before I know it, I’m laughing and actually having a good time.

  But still.

  There’s that part of me that knows he’s there. I can feel his eyes on me. The female part that knows he’s watching my every move.

  A slow Irish folk love ballad comes on and Stephen pulls me into his arms and starts singing the words to me, his laughter infectious. If Michael were not in the picture or part of my world, Stephen would definitely pique my interest.

  “If you don’t mind—” Michael interrupts, breaking up our moment.

  If Stephen is as surprised as I am, he covers well.

  “Of course,” he says graciously, stepping away and leaving me alone to fend for myself.

  Michael pulls me into his arms, his hands move down to my sides, to my lower back, brushing up against the top of my ass, holding onto me much too intimately.

  Like I belong to him.

  My hands come up his chest to push away from him, to give my body and mind the ability to breathe normally, but when my gaze crashes into his, I pause.

  “Shit,” I swear before I can help myself.

  The look in Michael’s eyes could light the city on fire.

  CHAPTER NINE

  “Scared?” he asks with a lift of his arrogant brow.

  “Why would I be?” I say. “I’ve done nothing wrong.”

  We’ve stopped moving. I’m just standing in the middle of the dance floor in his arms, and it doesn’t look like he’s going to let me go anytime soon.

  Not that I want him to.

  “Haven’t you?” His voice is icy.

  “I’m not following…”

  “Your new admirer,” Michael continues. “Stephen.”

  “What about him?”

  “You’re using him to make me jealous.” He pulls me into his body when he says this, his voice angry.

  “You’re crazy.” I shake my head in disbelief. “I’m not using anyone! And I didn’t even invite you here.”

  “No?
” he goes on, his jaw clenched.

  “Danielle told you…” I start to argue back, but my sanity kicks in and I lay into him instead. “Why does Stephen even matter to you? You and I are not together. We’ve never been together. Regardless of what you said in the office today, your actions have made it clear that everything that has happened between us was a mistake. I promise you, I got the message.”

  “Did you?” His expression is sour.

  “I did.” I feel humiliated that I’m forced to keep reliving his rejection. “So this back and forth, this, whatever this is… you just need to stop.”

  I try to move out of his arms, but he holds me tightly in his grip.

  “Do I?” His voice is dangerously soft.

  “Yes!” And because I can’t help myself and have undoubtedly had too much to drink I continue. “And you know what, Michael?”

  “What?” His lips twitch for a moment, and I have the distinct feeling he’s suddenly trying really hard not to laugh in my face.

  But I don’t care. Why is he even here?

  “You do seem jealous!”

  “And what if I am?” he asks to my complete surprise, effectively robbing me of all my anger and all train of thought.

  To be fair, he seems a bit floored by this possibility as well.

  The mask he has slips, and for a moment he lets me see how conflicted he is.

  My mouth instantly dries. I close my eyes and try to fight the small ember of hope that’s been lit by his admission.

  “Are you?”

  Michael’s eyes drift to my mouth. My body involuntarily reacts to him. I lean in, waiting for him to respond.

  He looks away for a moment, clenching his jaw.

  “I don’t know what I am.” I hear him whisper under his breath.

  My heart thumps in my chest.

  His confession takes away all of my anger for him.

  But still.

  “It’s not fair what you’re doing to me,” I tell him honestly.

  His body reacts to my admission, pulling me up against his rock hard frame as his hand moves to my hair, tugging my head back.

  “Fair?” he practically hisses out as his eyes blaze into mine. “I’ll tell you what’s not fair. What’s not fair is how I have to see you walk around my office every day with that perfect composure of yours, knowing with one touch I can light that fire in your body you’ve hidden so well from the rest of the world. I have to watch you smile and laugh with the men who work for me. I have to pretend that perfume you wear doesn’t drive me crazy.”

  I close my eyes as his words rush through my soul, fanning that flame of hope that I’ve been so frightened to feed until now.

  “I have to keep my hands to myself,” he continues as if the words are being torn out of his body. “When all I want to do is rip your clothes off and fuck you so hard that you scream out my name as you come again. And again.”

  My body’s reaction to his words is instant.

  Raw, primal need rocks me to my core.

  A buzz begins to course through my veins.

  I can feel the longing between my thighs and my heartbeat roars so loudly in my head that I can’t even see straight.

  “Have I scared you?” Michael’s voice is low and rough as the piercing intensity of his gaze draws me right into his sexual web.

  And then the mood around us shifts again and Michael’s hands slowly move up, over my arms, his lips brush up erotically against my ear.

  “Why did you come here?” I ask him with a ragged sigh.

  “Why?” His voice is husky, making me crave his touch, the feel of his lips on mine. A hot ache begins to spread through my body.

  “I had to give you something.” He pulls away as his eyes move over my face.

  Michael takes my hand in his before tugging me off the dance floor.

  “Give me what?” I ask, but allow him to pull me away.

  Why?

  Because I’m more curious than I should be. Because I long to be in his world in any way I can.

  Because he wants to fuck me.

  Hard.

  I should want to run far away from him and all the craziness he invokes inside my soul, but I don’t.

  I can’t.

  He leads me through the bar, down a flight of steps and from the way he expertly navigates the place, I know he’s been here before.

  “Where are we going?” I ask him as we walk down a hall that looks like it’s for staff only.

  “You’ll see.”

  I don’t have to wait long.

  He finds the room he’s looking for, which happens to be a miscellaneous storage for the pub. There’s only a small table in the tiny room that’s lined with shelves filled with kitchen supplies.

  “What’s this?” I ask, spinning around and watching him shut the door.

  He locks it.

  My heart drops to the floor.

  What is going on?

  The air is thick around us. Michael’s size and presence make the small space seem even more claustrophobic than it already is. He steps toward me as my heart picks up its pace.

  “This?” he says as he looks around the room. “This is a closet.”

  “Why did you lock the door?” I can’t help but feel nervous about what’s to come.

  Michael cocks his head to the side.

  “Why do you think?”

  I take a step back from him, but there’s no room for me to go.

  “You… you said you wanted to give me something.”

  He takes a step closer.

  “I do.” His voice sounds raspy.

  “I don’t understand.” I hold my hand out, hoping to keep him at bay. My heart races erratically as my stomach clenches.

  Michael’s hand grabs mine, using it to pull me into his body.

  “Let me show you.”

  And he does.

  His mouth crushes mine as his fingers fervently grip my arms, pressing me into his masculine frame. I don’t stand a chance. I lose all reason as he begins to kiss my lips and neck, any bit of bare flesh he can find. I’m soaking wet within seconds, longing for release. Michael’s hands slide down my shoulders, to the front of my shirt, where he begins to slowly unbutton my top.

  “You don’t know what you’re doing to me.” His words are hypnotic as his hands move over my breasts.

  I moan into his mouth as his fingers knead my breasts, teasing my nipples until the hot warmth of his touch causes a wildfire to move through my body.

  “Abby,” he whispers, his mouth trailing kisses down my neck. “You’re so beautiful.”

  His words, his touch… they work like magic.

  His hands cup my ass and lift me up, carrying me back until I’m seated on the table. Michael’s hands move down my legs to touch my naked calves before sliding back and pushing my skirt up as far it can go.

  He moves between my legs, wrapping them around his waist before pushing his erection against my lacy thong, causing me to lose all logical train of thought. The movement drives me wild, and within seconds I want more. I fall back on the table and Michael follows, capturing my mouth, his tongue exploring every crevice it can find.

  “So beautiful,” he whispers against my lips.

  He pushes my bra down, letting my breasts loose, growling low in his throat in appreciation. He palms one of my breasts, his tongue skims a trail down my neck and circles over my nipple. I cry out in pleasure as he sucks and licks, tugging on my swollen flesh until my body is begging him for release.

  “Michael!” I cry out.

  He ignores my pleas and continues to make love to my breasts. My hands tangle in his hair, and I push my pelvis into his groin, dying for any kind friction. His hand comes to rest on my hip bone, steadying me, before slowly slipping between my thighs. When his fingers barely brush up against me, I think I might explode. My hips buck up to his touch, demanding release.

  My body has been craving this from the moment we shared our first kiss.

  He slowly
pulls down my thong, sliding it along my naked thighs as I shudder in anticipation. His lips find mine again and he slips two fingers inside, blissfully filling me with what I need. I practically scream out in pleasure as his fingers rock into me. They work their magic, rubbing my sensitive nub, moving in and out, throwing me into a haze of pure lust.

  “Let me give it to you.” His voice is rough and passionate against my mouth.

  Yes, I think. Please.

  I reach the edge.

  And when I can’t take any more of his sweet torture, I scream out my orgasm. My muscles flex and my body trembles from the force as waves of sweet pleasure rock my core.

  It’s a long time before I can finally breathe normally again.

  Before I can shyly open my eyes.

  Michael lifts himself over my body and stares down at me. He lets me see how he feels. The naked desire in his eyes only makes me want more.

  Need more.

  I try to reach down and reciprocate, but his hand stops me.

  “Not yet, Abby,” he whispers against my lips. “Not yet.”

  When? I wonder not realizing I say the words out loud until Michael responds with a soft kiss on my cheek.

  “Soon.”

  ***

  Not yet.

  But soon.

  Michael’s cryptic words played in my head all night. He successfully managed to ruin another night of sleep for me. I couldn’t help but spend the night reliving what was without a doubt the most incredible orgasm of my life. Or what happened after.

  When we left the storage closet, Michael had quickly excused himself to go home. He’d kissed me on my cheek and had whispered he’d see me in the morning, and then had just left.

  Left.

  I, on the other hand, was too shell-shocked to move. In fact, it took me a good ten minutes before I could really come to terms with what happened in the storage closet. In a pub. Filled with people. Employees that could have walked in on us at any time.

  But none of that even mattered to me.

  Because Michael had given me the most earth-shattering orgasm.

  And then… just left.

  But not without promising more.

  But did he?

  Did not yet mean not yet, but soon? Or not yet because he didn’t know if it should ever happen? Was it the latter?

  There was a good chance I was going to drive myself crazy wondering.