Doors lined the walls on either side of her. Most were closed, with various sounds emitting from the rooms within. Moans. Shrieks. Giggles. Two or three doors were open, though, the rooms available to be rented by the hour or the evening. She knew that within a couple hours, all the rooms would be occupied. On a weekend, none of them ever stayed empty.
She swept past them all, impressed with herself for only falling into the wall once. She held out one arm after that, bracing herself while she walked. It was hard enough to do while sober – the only lighting came from red bulbs. Doing it drunk, she felt like she was in a Stanley Kubrick film.
“Hey!” she yelled as she turned a sharp corner and walked up to the very last door. She started banging on it. “I need to talk to you, it's important!”
No one answered and she glanced at her watch. It wasn't that that late. Weekends were hit or miss with Liam – either he was off having fun on his own, or he was at work until the wee hours of the morning. But he had told her just that afternoon that he would be in his office all night.
“Please, I'll do whatever you want. I'll go away and stay away until you tell me I can come back. I'll double your salary. Triple it. Think about it, at least. Okay? I'm not considering this your notice. Go home and really think about it. Then call me. Call me here, even. I'll be at my desk all night.”
His words, and as big of a douchebag as Liam Edenhoff was, she liked to think he wouldn't lie to her. Not to Tori, his basically-best-friend.
“I know you're in there! Open the door!” she shouted, banging even harder.
“Jesus fucking christ, woman, it's open!”
She was a little surprised at the annoyance in his voice, but she didn't let it stop her. She was on a roll. Her adrenaline was pumping, her confidence was kicked into high gear, and her liquid courage was in full effect. She took a deep breath and threw open the door.
His office was dark and she blinked her eyes a couple times, trying to make out where he was, exactly. Then she realized light was filtering out from underneath his en suite's door. He was in the bathroom, that's why he hadn't answered her knocks. She tossed her hair over her shoulder, then almost fell over with the movement. Once she righted herself, she cautiously made her way across the room, having to feel her way along in the darkness.
“I have something important I need to say!” she yelled through the door.
“Can it wait till I'm done taking a piss?” he asked. She crinkled her nose.
“No! Get out here, now!”
“Fuck off.”
She gasped. Was he serious? Just a couple hours ago, he'd been begging her not to go. Begging her to just stay and talk to him. Promising her he'd be there whenever she did want to talk. And now he was telling her to fuck off?
Oh, hell no.
“No!” she yelled, slamming her palm against the door. “You fuck off!”
“I was here first!”
“You're an asshole!” she shouted. “You're a fucking liar. It's embarrassing, everyone talks about it, about what a big fucking lying asshole you are.”
She heard a click, and then the door was swinging out in front of her, forcing her to step back. He'd turned off the bathroom light before opening the door and he looked ominous in the hint-o-red-lighting that was filtering in from the hallway. He loomed over her – even when she was in her boots, he was still taller than her. She loved that about him.
“I'm sorry, I don't think I heard you right. Could you repeat that?” he asked in a low voice, all while rubbing a towel between his hands. She narrowed her eyes and took a couple more steps back, putting some distance between them.
“You heard me,” she told him. “Don't you ever get tired, being so fake all the time?”
“Fake?” he asked, tilting his head to the side like he hadn't heard her right. He started walking towards her again, so she moved backwards, matching him step for step.
“Yeah, you know, a phony. Always pretending to be someone you're not,” she spelled it out for him as they both came to a stop in the office doorway.
“Why would someone like you even know who I really am?” he snapped, his brown eyes shooting daggers at her.
That cut deep. Her eyes instantly filled with tears and she didn't even think about what she was doing – she slapped him across the face.
“Fuck you,” she hissed. “Someone like me? Just someone who's done nothing but be kind to you and care about you and do whatever you fucking asked! My mistake, though, right? God, I'm such an idiot.”
She would not cry in front of this man. She'd wasted enough tears on him. She didn't wait to hear a response, she just shoved him out of her way and stomped down the hallway. She didn't get very far, though, before he was pulling her to a stop.
“Wait, wait, wait,” he was saying in a soft voice.
“No! Get fucked, Eden,” she said his nickname like it was a curse.
“Look, I'm sorry. I think I made a mistake,” he said, gripping onto her upper arms while she struggled against him.
“No, I made the mistake. Mistook you for a human fucking being. I'm so fucking stupid,” she swore, planting her hands flat on his chest and trying to push him.
“Hey, stop it. Stop saying that. This is all my fault. Don't feel bad, please. I'm sorry, I just fuck things up,” he sighed.
That made her pause. Liam was good at sounding apologetic and contrite, but he rarely ever sounded upset or depressed. Now she heard both those things in his voice. She stared up at him for a second, her vision blurred by her tears.
This is it. This is that moment. Just like Tim said. Grab him and kiss him.
It didn't go quite how she pictured it in her head. He was too tall and she was too ungainly on her feet. He was still gripping her arms, limiting her range of motion. She wound up on her toes, practically falling into him. Her movements caught him off guard and they stumbled backwards. Just as he hit a door, her mouth landed on his, and for once, she felt like all was right in the world.
Tori had pictured kissing Liam lots of times. Pictured doing lots of things to him lots of times. Fantasy rarely ever lived up to reality, but this moment was better than anything she'd dreamed up.
His arms were around her in a second, squeezing the air out of her and pulling her as close as possible. She gasped into his mouth and he seized the opportunity, sliding his tongue between her lips. She moaned and raked her fingernails down his chest, then started pulling his shirt away from his body.
“Skin,” she gasped when he moved and shifted, turning them so she was the one pressed up against the door. “We need a lot more skin.”
His hands started doing something odd behind her back, but before she could ask what was going on, the door behind her fell open. She shrieked as they tumbled into the room, landing hard against a shelf.
“More skin,” he agreed, pulling his shirt up and over his head before tossing it across the room.
Her mouth went dry at the sight before her. They were in a shadowy room with only a sliver of red light coming inside, but she could still see his smooth chest. Tone muscles covering his ribs and sides, all leading to that wonderful v-shape that disappeared into his pants. She wanted to explore that shape, preferably with her tongue, but something caught her eye.
“I didn't know you had this,” she breathed, brushing her fingers down his right side. He had a tattoo there, a whole lot of script running from just under his armpit almost clear down to his hip. She'd never seen him with his shirt off, so of course she hadn't known about it. She was just surprised that Katya had never mentioned it.
“I'm willing to bet there's a lot of things about me you don't know,” he chuckled.
“That sounds like a challenge,” she breathed, hooking her fingers around his belt and yanking him close.
“Yeah. Shit, Tori, we have to – fuck,” he hissed sharply when she leaned in and bit down on his chest. Then he moaned when she traced her tongue clear up to his clavicle.
“You have no idea how long
I've waited to hear you say that,” she whispered.
Things went into overdrive after that. He yanked her away from the shelf and forced her to turn around. Her shirt was roughly jerked over her head, the tell tale sound of ripping happening before it sailed across the room.
“Hey, I have to wear that home, you -” she started to complain, then gasped when his hand went around her throat. He gripped her high up on her neck, his thumb pressing down hard right beneath her jaw, forcing her to look up.
“You talk too fucking much,” he growled in her ear. A shiver ran down her spine.
“That's hilarious, coming from you,” she chuckled. He squeezed tight for a second, startling her, then moved his hand higher. His thumb pressed down hard on her bottom lip for a second, then forced its way inside her mouth. She moaned before sucking on the digit.
“God, I knew you'd be hot,” he was sighing from behind her. She moaned again when she felt his free hand on her ass. “But you were always off limits. Killed me. Always flashing those tits, this ass. So fucking hot.”
Wow. She'd had no idea. Of course, she'd assumed Liam found her attractive – they flirted, she was good looking, he was good looking. But hearing him talk that way, she was pretty sure her panties had actually just melted off her body.
No, you just never bothered putting any on.
A fact that he discovered seconds later, when he slid his hand around to her front and dipped it inside the front of her shorts. They both moaned when he felt nothing between her and his fingers. She shuddered and arched her back, forcing her ass into his crotch.
“Please,” she gasped when he finally pulled his hand away from her neck. “God, please, I need this so bad.”
“How bad?” he asked, two fingers sliding around in her heat while his other hand moved under her bra.
“So fucking bad,” she groaned, reaching behind her and running her fingers through his thick hair.
“You're fucking bad,” he hissed in her ear, slipping one finger inside of her. “Came down here to fight, but wound up getting fucked instead.”
“Thank god,” she started to laugh, but it ended on a shriek as a tremor ripped through her body. He was pinching her nipple, twisting it lightly between his fingertips.
“I'm going to fuck you so hard, you won't even be able to walk when I'm done,” he threatened her.
Holy shit. She'd heard all sorts of stories about Liam, from lots of people. Some very detailed ones from Katya, but Tori had never imagined him to be so aggressive. So rough. So dirty. She loved it.
“Fuck, I'm gonna come,” she gasped.
“Oh no, no, no, no,” he whispered, and she almost cried when he took his hand away.
“What are you doing!?”
“I have got to see this happen,” he said as he turned her again, shoving her up so she was sitting on the shelf.
Tori started undoing her belt buckle, her fingers shaking so bad she could barely get it apart. This was happening. This was really happening. She glanced up, not wanting to miss one second with him. He was looking down at himself, fighting with his own belt.
She frowned and stopped moving. Something wasn't right. All that adrenaline had cleared out her brain a little. She glanced around the room, then stared back at him. Looked down at his tattoo. Then back at his face.
“Hey,” she said, reaching out and pressing her hand to his chest.
“What?” he asked, finally looking at her. She gasped.
“Oh my god.”
It was like simultaneous light bulbs went off over both their heads.
“Oh shit,” he groaned.
“Landon!?” she shrieked, pressing her hands to her chest.
“As in not Liam,” he sighed, rubbing his hand down his face.
“Oh my god. Oh my god,” she felt like she was hyperventilating.
“Hey, hey, hey,” he snapped, stepping up close to her. “Calm down. It's not the end of the world.”
“It feels like it!” she yelled, slapping his chest. “This is humiliating! Jesus, I nearly fucked the wrong brother!”
“Well, really, that depends on how you look at it.”
“What?”
“Afterwards, you'd definitely know you'd fucked the right brother.”
The Kane Trilogy
DEGRADATION
Available Now
Meet the one and only Jameson Kane
Tatum plucked at her shirt in a nervous manner. She had tucked it into a tight pencil skirt and even put on a pair of sling back stilettos. If someone had personally requested her, she wanted to make an effort to look nice. She had blown out her hair and put curls in the ends, and toned down her make up. Even she had to admit it, she looked presentable.
For once.
Men in expensive business suits began to file into the conference room and she stood still, giving a polite smile to everyone who entered. A team of lawyers was meeting with their client. Six chairs were lined up on one side of a long table, with just a single chair on the other side.
Tate had been positioned at the back of the room, next to a sideboard filled with goodies and coffee and water. She fussed about, straightening napkins and setting up the glasses. When all six chairs were filled on the one side, she stared at their backs, wondering who the big shot was that got to stare them all down. The person who would be facing her. A door at the back of the room swung open and her breath caught in her threat.
Holy. Shit.
Jameson Kane strode into the room, only offering a curt smile to his lawyers. His eyes flashed to her for just a second, then he looked back. His smile became genuine and he tipped his head towards her, almost like a bow.
She gaped back at him, positive that her mouth was hanging open. What was he doing there!? Had he known she would be there? Had he been the one to request her? Impossible, he didn't know what temp agency she worked for – but what would be the chances? She hadn't seen him in seven years, and now twice in two days.
Tate felt like swallowing her tongue.
“Gentlemen,” Jameson began, seating himself across from the lawyers. “Thanks for meeting with me today. Would anyone care for any coffee? Water? The lovely Ms. O'Shea will be helping us today.” He gestured towards Tate, but no one turned around. Several people asked for coffee. Jameson asked for water, his smile still in place. It was almost a smirk. Like he knew something she didn't.
She began to grind her teeth.
She delivered everyone's drinks, then carried around a tray of snacks. No one took anything. She moved to the back of the room, refilled the water pitcher. Tidied up. Felt Jameson staring at her.
This is ridiculous. You're Tatum O'Shea. You eat boys for breakfast.
But thinking that made her remember when he had said something very similar to her, and she felt a blush creep up her cheeks.
She was pretty much ignored the whole time. They all argued back and forth about what business decisions Jameson should, or shouldn't, make. He was very keen on dismantling struggling companies and selling them off. They tried to curb his desires. His tax lawyer explained how his tax shelter in Hong Kong was doing. Another lawyer gave him a run down on property law in Switzerland. Tate tried to hide her yawns.
They took a five minute break after an hour had passed. Tate had her back to the room, rearranging some muffins on a tray, when she felt the hair on the back of her neck start to stand up. She turned around in slow motion, taking in Jameson as he walked up to her.
“Surprised?” he asked, smiling down at her.
“Very. Did you ask for me?” she questioned. He nodded.
“Yes. You ran away so quickly the other night. I wanted to get reacquainted,” he explained. She laughed.
“Maybe I didn't,” she responded. He shrugged.
“That doesn't really matter to me. What are you doing tonight?” he asked. She was a little caught off guard.
“Are you asking me out, Kane?” she blurted out. He threw back his head and laughed.
“Oh go
d, still a little girl. No. I don't ask people out. I was asking what you were doing tonight,” Jameson replied.
She willed away the blush she felt coming on. He still had the ability to make her feel so stupid. She had been through so much since him, come so far with her esteem and her life. It wasn't fair that he could still make her feel so small. She wanted to return the favor. She cleared her throat.
“I'm working.”
“Where?”
“At a bar.”
“What bar?”
“A bar you don't know.”
“And tomorrow night?”
“Busy.”
“And the night after that?”
“Every night after that,” Tate informed him, crossing her arms. He narrowed his eyes, but continued smiling.
“Surely you can find some time to meet up with an old friend,” he said. She shook her head.
“We were never friends, Kane,” she pointed out. He laughed.
“Then what is it? Are you scared of me? Scared I'll eat you alive?” he asked. She stepped closer to him, refusing to be intimidated.
“I think you're the one who should be scared. You don't know me, Kane. You never did. And you never will,” she whispered. Jameson leaned down so his lips were almost against her ear.
“I know what you feel like from the inside. That's good enough for me,” he whispered back. Tate stepped away. She felt like she couldn't breathe. He did something to her insides.
“You, and a lot of other people. You're not as big a deal as you think,” she taunted. It was a complete lie, but she had to get the upper hand back. He smirked at her.
“That sounds like a challenge to me. I have to defend my honor,” he warned her. She snorted.
“Whatever. Point to the challenger then, me. Defend away,” she responded, rolling her eyes.
He didn't respond, just continued smirking down at her. The lawyers began filing back into the room and Jameson took his position on the other side of the table. She wasn't really sure what their little spar had been about, or what had come out of it. She was just going to try to get through the rest of the conference, and then she would scurry away before he could talk to her again. She didn't want anything to do with Jameson Kane, or his -,
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