by Kayce Kyle
“Well. Your ma has Jett and since the roads are bad, looks like I’m stuck for the night here too. Should’ve asked Big for a ride, but I know he doesn’t allow passengers. It’s too late to call now and explain to Jett why I won’t be there tonight. Ugh, I miss my baby. I hate being away from him. Want me to get the downstairs sofa ready for her to sleep on?” she asks Blaine. “Em has some extra blankets in his room.” Wait. Emmit has his own room here, too? Is this seriously how these two live? I’ve yet to see a shower or kitchen. And Sharla has a son. The curious part of me wants to know who his father is. I mean are these three siblings? There’s some strange protective vibe between them, but I can’t peg exactly what it is.
“Nah.” Blaine shakes his head. “She can have my bed and I’ll take the recliner in Emmit’s room. You can take the sofa,” he tells her approaching his dresser, retrieving some boxer briefs for himself. I quickly turn away, but it’s too late as the mental image of him wearing only those sends a warm tingling feeling from my stomach, falling and eventually landing between my thighs. I cross my legs pleading with my body to stop betraying me.
Wait. I just realized that this man I literally just met has assigned himself the sole decider of where I’ll rest my head for the night? “Um, Sharla. All of you have been extremely nice to me. How about I take the sofa. You’ve worked all night and I’m sure you’re exhausted. Maybe you’d prefer the bed?” Having heard myself say those words out loud, I shock myself that I’m not putting up more of a fight about all of this. This isn’t exactly the five-star hotel I had in mind, but it’s been a long day and I am exhausted. Yes, that must be it. It’s just one night, not the rest of my life.
“Yeah. That’s gonna be a hard pass from me, but thanks. Blaine’s like a brother to me and I’d rather not sleep in the same bed he’s fucked every woman in town, including my arch enemy.” She shifts her gaze to him just in time to meet his and I watch his eyes narrow, gloss over, as his glare causes me to shudder. “What? It’s only the truth. It’s still early for me anyway. It’s only midnight. If I’m gonna be stuck here for the night, may as well make the best of it.” She turns on her heel and heads downstairs, leaving me all alone with the man who saved me tonight. Five minutes ago I hadn’t necessarily thought of anything but Blaine’s hard body and what it’s been doing to mine, my flat tire and trying to get out of here. Now? I find my thoughts skipping around wondering just how many women this small town hero has bedded. Oddly enough, I find myself mildly jealous of those women. Sure, he exudes sex appeal, but he also radiates with self-confidence. So much so, that it borders cockiness.
So, Blaine’s not her son’s father. Maybe Emmit is. Her statement doesn’t make me at all comfortable given that they expect me to sleep on his bed. I look back over my shoulder as I visually scan his bed and can feel the disgust as it paints my face. “You want the fucking couch, fancy pants?” His agitated voice echoes from across the room while he takes a not so subtle jab at me. Fancy pants? Wow.
What the hell did I do? “Excuse me?” I ask, cocking my head to the side as my hand finds my hip.
“Look, just cut the shit. I see the way you looked at my bed and, well, basically everything I own. You drive a fucking Lexus and that purse of yours ain’t cheap. You’re not from around here, but you have Texas plates. I heard your little admission earlier. Oh, poor little rich girl.” He waves his hands around in the air, and he’s honestly a little scary right now. I’m either naïve or confused at why he seems so upset. “So, your wealthy boyfriend was gonna propose to you in front of a ton of other rich people including the governor? What a fucking problem to have.” He unbuttons his jeans without stopping his admonishing of me. Suddenly, I’m distracted by his actions as my eyes now follow his jeans all the way to the floor. My body begins reacting again to the sight of this man and I find it infuriating. I’m not entirely sure what this feeling is and maybe it’s the exhaustion and conflicting emotions ruling me and my body. But I find myself wishing he would scoop me up with those rugged manly hands of his and do downright filthy things to my body with them. What would his lips feel like on mine? His flesh on mine as he fucks me so hard that the world around me completely ceases to exist? He approaches me with an arrogant smirk on his face. I’m not sure how this man has just gone from zero to one-hundred and now back to zero? Is he off his medication or something? “See something you like, fancy pants?” He raises his hand and grazes my cheek, causing goosebumps to pebble my skin. My heart slams against the walls inside my chest and my clit begins to throb as his skin makes contact with mine. Why is my body being so disloyal? I turn my head away from him. I no longer trust myself right now. If I acknowledge him in this moment, I might end up doing something I regret in the morning. He chuckles slightly before I notice him throw a towel over his shoulder from my peripheral, along with a large bulge confined in his jeans. Christ, his cock looks massive, but I refuse to give him the satisfaction of knowing I couldn’t resist stealing a look. What an arrogant asshole. “Sleep tight,” he finishes before turning and leaving me alone with a worked-up body.
I fall back onto his bed as I pant, trying to catch my breath.
BLAINE
Fuck! Typically I despise wealthy people, especially women and the way they act and flaunt their material shit. Especially snobby ass women acting like a man is only worth the amount of money he has in his checking account. So, I don’t know what it is about Tara that makes my cock ache to feel what it’s like to be inside of her. I’ve fucked lots of women, but something about that woman upstairs makes me wanna explore her both inside and out. God, I wanna fuck the snooty, underlying bitch I know that lies within, right out of her. Passing by the bar, I grab a beer, pop the cap and take a long pull before I look over at the couch. Sharla’s not there, but she’s made a comfy-looking bed out of it. Emmit’s room is in the back, downstairs.
“Yo, Em.” I tap my knuckles against his door before pushing it open. I’m engulfed in a cloud of smoke. “What the fuck, man?” I wave my arms around, clearing the air some. Like two deer in headlights, Sharla and Emmit both stare back at me with lit cigarettes in their hands. This wouldn’t be shocking if it were just my brother. He smokes. Sharla on the other hand, does not. I scan the room and notice a bottle of whiskey sitting between them. “Since when the fuck do you smoke?”
“Since…now?” Sharla smirks as she takes a drag and blows out a ring of smoke, intentionally trying to piss me off. I approach her and before I can yank it from her, Emmit stands, challenging me. “You fucking serious, Em? You’re encouraging this shit?”
Sharla finds her feet and places herself in between the both of us. “Look, I appreciate you always having my back and feeling the need to protect me…but I’m grown, Blaine.” She shifts her eyes to the beer in my hand. “Oh, I get it now.” She turns to Emmit. “He might’ve finally met a woman who won’t fuck him and he’s coming in here taking his pent-up aggression out on me. This is way deeper than me smoking a fucking cigarette.” She turns her eyes back to me and bats my chest. “Did you lay your best moves on her and she rejected you? Christ, Blaine. I’m glad she didn’t fall under whatever spell it is these women do when they meet you. Your ego has been out of control for a while now. Plus, that woman has been through some serious shit. The last thing she needs is for you to further complicate things.”
I cock my head to the side and take another long pull from my beer. “What do you mean she’s been through some serious shit? And not that it’s any of your business, but I have zero desire to fuck her.” I’m lying right through my front teeth. I want her, and I want her bad. “Don’t tell me you feel sorry for some snobby rich chick that probably fled a mansion with servants and shit all because her filthy rich boyfriend was gonna propose? And, gasp, in front of the fucking governor. Yeah, I heard that shit. You do realize that our own mother essentially traded Emmit and I for a life of luxury and material things?”
“Blaine, why are you in here? Go fucking beat off in the shower, man
. I’m your brother. You can’t fucking fool me. I saw the way you’ve been eye-fucking her since you first saw her. She’s only been here a few hours and you’re already losing your shit over her. Get a hold of yourself, brother. Does anyone else find it ridiculous that we’re all in here arguing over some random woman who showed up in the rain and will be gone by morning after her tire’s fixed? Come on. Aside from our team winning state tonight, this shit’s been weird.” Emmit pours himself a shot and slams it back.
“True. All of it. I’m in agreement with Em,” Sharla replies, acknowledges Emmit. “Is that all you heard from her though, Blaine? The part about her leaving because of her boyfriend?”
Puzzled by her question, I can feel the lines on my forehead crinkle as I arch a brow. “Yeah. And it’s typical rich bitch drama.”
“I actually like her and feel something genuine about her. But, since she’ll be leaving, I decided not to invest myself any further into her. Wow, Blaine. I thought you were like the fucking pussy-whisperer and shit. It turns out, you can’t read a woman as well as we all thought.” Sharla takes the shot of whiskey Emmit’s poured for her and swallows it down. Sharla’s always been like a sister to us, but I’ll be damned if she doesn’t act like another brother sometimes with the things that leave her mouth.
“Eh, you’re fucking wrong about her. They’re all the same. Money does shit to people. She’s no exception. I’m going to shower,” I tell them. “I’m ready for bed. Ready for this night to be over. So, if you don’t mind?”
“Take the couch, ya big grouch. I’ll sleep in here tonight,” she fires back.
“Fine.” I turn my back to them both and walk out.
Chapter Four
TARA
Trapped in this room, I am a prisoner of my own making as I pace the floor. I should just make a call to my father and have him send a helicopter or rescue team for me. For a fleeting moment, I debate the thought on a serious note. No. Then this entire ordeal that I’ve submitted myself to would be in vain. Pausing, I look down at Blaine’s clothes that I’m currently wearing. God, they smell so good as I take a long whiff of his scent. It’s so manly and natural. So different than what I’m used to, and it ignites another fire inside of me—leaving me longing for what exactly I’m unsure, as I stand here and burn slowly with its flames. Sure, he’s easy on the eyes but clearly, we come from two different worlds. Oh, the audacity he had to assume he knows anything about me or what I’ve been through.
I refuse to let another man, especially one that knows next to nothing about me spew that vitriol in my face as I sit idly by. Sure, he and his family have been nice enough to let me crash here, and while I’m grateful, I have to let him know just how wrong he is about me.
Throwing caution to the wind, and possibly risking my own life as I don’t honestly know these people, I march loudly down the stairs. Once I’m at the bottom, I see Blaine laying on the sofa. Not what I expected to see at all. Another heat wave crashes through my body when I notice he’s only wearing his boxer briefs. Well, genius, what are you going to do now? The sight of him has proven over and over again to make you weak, longing for him inside. He’s asleep and I’d look like a mental patient for sure if I woke him only to shout at him about things he said to me hours ago. I feel my mouth begin to water and myself become suddenly wet the more I gaze at his perfectly formed body. Christ don’t get me started on that tattoo on his chest and shoulder. That sort of thing is considered taboo where I come from. Is that what this is? Blaine is so different than any of them and internally it’s grinding every gear inside of me. Get a hold of yourself, Tara. This isn’t like you at all. I’ve only ever slept with one man, but I can’t help but wonder what kind of sexual beast Blaine would be between the sheets. Quickly, I try to shake him out of my thoughts and I shift my gaze to a half empty bottle of vodka sitting on the counter of the bar. Fuck it. If I’m going to rid myself of these thoughts and have a shot at any sleep tonight, I’m going to need some of this.
“I’ll ask again. See something you like?” Blaine’s deep and unexpected voice booms throughout the room, causing me to jump where I stand.
I thought he was asleep. Oh please don’t let him have caught me drooling over him. It seems like this man already gets enough of that attention from other women. Clearing my throat, I square my shoulders ready to defend myself. “I couldn’t sleep and thought maybe a drink might help. Of course, I would pay for it, though. I wasn’t trying to steal or just help myself to your liquor.”
He throws his feet over the side of the sofa until they touch the floor. Oh dear god, please don’t let him stand and approach me. He places his hands between his legs and on his cock, adjusting himself and without shame before he stands. My gaze is fixated on the enormous swelling that remains and it takes all the will power I have to peel my eyes away from it. “Well, help yourself. It’s on the house.” He’s now behind the bar and I hear the clinking of glass. “I know that where you probably come from, everything has a price.” He sets not one, but two shot glasses on the counter. “Around here though, not everything has a price tag on it. It’s called generosity. Doing something good just for the sake of doing so. Even if that something is as small or simple as a few shots. Now, go ahead. Someone else playing bartender for once? I might like this.”
I swallow thickly as I try to process his words. He’s not being a complete asshole. Not yet anyway. My eyes slowly trail down his bare chest as far as they can before I snap myself out of it again. I simply nod and pour the clear liquor into each shot glass. He takes his and I follow his lead. He raises his glass and eyebrows before throwing his head back along with the drink. I do the same and the burn as it slides down my throat causes me to cough before I wipe my mouth with the backside of my hand. “Wow. That was rough.”
“Nah,” he replies, taking the bottle from me before he pours another round of shots for us.
“Woah, woah. I don’t think I can handle any more of that. I was only going to take one shot anyway.” He smirks at my reply. His mischievous grin combined with the dimple that’s now accentuated, has my core yearning for him again.
“Just one more.” He slides the glass across the wooden countertop in my direction. “The second one won’t be as rough. Promise.”
Is he trying to get me drunk? I am a lightweight, but he doesn’t know that. One damn shot and I’m already a little buzzed. This version of him compared to earlier has me feeling like I could sit here for hours with him just drinking and talking. It’s infuriating and leaves me frustrated and confused but fuck it. I guess I can take just one more. I raise my glass, but instead of taking the shot I quickly put it back down still full and watch as confusion etches across his face.
“You know all those things you said to me earlier? Well, guess what?” His eyes slowly narrow and I feel my courage diminishing. Quickly I slam back that second shot and shudder before I continue. Yes, I need the help and courage the alcohol gives me. “You don’t know shit, Blaine. Do I have money? More than I can spend in a lifetime. Do I idolize money and name brand items? Yeah, it’s an unfortunate consequence from the way I was raised and the family I was born into. Yes, I have it on good authority to believe that my boyfriend has every intention of proposing tomorrow. Well, technically tonight I suppose.” Damn, it suddenly dawns on me that it’s already my birthday. “Am I running from that? Hell yes, I am! Because, Blaine, where I come from, the women are groomed from birth to act a certain way. To be a certain way. And, when we do find a worthy man we should be so lucky…” I hesitate briefly considering the absurdity of that reality. “A man that supposedly loves us and wants to marry us? We should be so lucky?” I shake my head. “And let me tell you, Blaine.” I grab the bottle and help myself to another shot and down it quickly. This time it goes down smooth as my throat is numb. “I refuse to become another one of those statistics. I will not essentially become a human incubator for the next generation of elitist assholes while a nanny raises my children and my allegedly lovin
g husband fucks any and every slut that throws her pussy in his face. So, if that makes me a rich bitch and all those other tacky things you said about me earlier, then I suppose you were right. But know this. The way you judged me without knowing a single fucking thing about me, is the same damn thing you claim people like me do to others who are less fortunate. The one fucking thing I want most in life I can never buy! And that’s love. The kind of love that’s organic and real. The kind that keeps you up late at night with goofy conversations stemming from delirium. The kind of love that keeps you on a natural high and buzz…zero alcohol required.”
He stares at me for what feels like an eternity and says absolutely nothing. I feel the warmth of my cheeks as I know they begin to blush, revealing my embarrassment at my sudden lashing out. I just bared my soul and exposed my deepest truth to a complete stranger. I’ve never felt so vulnerable in my entire life.
BLAINE
I’ve never felt like such an ass in my entire life. Outside of my family, I’m not sure any other woman has ever shown me such a raw and vulnerable side of them. Staring into her pain-stricken eyes as they water, I can feel her battle as if it were my own. A tear rolls down her cheek and she shies away from me as she wipes it away. I move from behind the counter and approach her, only I don’t know what to do with her once I’m next to her. I’m not the lovey-dovey, hands-on, consoling type of man.
Slowly, she looks up at me and feigns a smile, attempting to shelter her vulnerability. Her eyes lock with mine. “So, yeah. That’s me. The poor little rich girl who can buy anything…almost.”
My fucking god I want to take her in my arms, carry her to my bed and explore every inch of her body with mine. Normally I would, but this is different, she’s different. I run my hand through my hair before I feel them drag down my face. “Tara, I…” she stifles my words and cuts me off, catching me off-guard as her lips crash onto mine.
