Embody (Full Circle #1)

by S. E. Hall

  I go grab my coffee and join him on the couch. After a few more sips, the caffeine finally starts to hit my brain and I feel ready to attempt comprehensive conversation. “So, what’s the big, early bird announcement?” I bravely ask.

  “Apartment 301C just opened up, and shut right back down again,” insert theatrical pause during which his mouth twitches, “because it’s yours. We can move you in as soon as you’re ready. It’s a lot bigger, same rent and it’s on the third floor, not ground level,” he gushes without taking a breath. “And it’s fully furnished.”

  Need more caffeine. I gulp it down this time, only a slight singeing of my tongue and throat.

  I narrow my eyes at him. “How did you know there was an opening?”

  “Kendrick Enterprises is part owner of this and two other complexes on the block. Do you want to go up and see it?”

  “Not yet,” I drawl. “Lemme’ see if I’m following correctly first. Because your family just happens to own the complex in which I live and I didn’t ask or hint in any way I was apartment shopping, since I’m not, you somehow took that as your invitation to uproot me? To a bigger place, fully furnished, yet miraculously has the same rent? I cover everything?”

  I’m expecting an argument or a stuttering attempt at what he thinks is a valid explanation.

  Not even close to what I get.

  He quickly slides across the couch, taking my coffee out of my hand and setting it on the table. Then he tilts my head by a single finger under my chin, forcing my gaze to his enflamed one. His dark, chocolate brown eyes brew with an irritating hint of male confidence and a certain smolder, almost as if my biting tone, clearly unhappy with his presumptuousness, turned him on?

  “Not everything, Bellamy.” My name’s spoken in deep, sultry seduction. “You’ll need to tell me what you’re taking from here so I can move it up and what you want to do with the rest.”

  I have to blink a few times in order to break the trance his voice, the smell of his cologne and the air of authority have put me under. “Excusé moi? That’s French for “you’re being high-handed and I don’t like it. I’m not some…”

  He presses two fingers over my lips. “Sshh. You’re not some anything, you’re Bellamy Morgan, and I’m more than a little interested in her. I will win, so just stop with the fight you think you want to put up and let me do this for you. Ground floor units aren’t safe. I demand you be safe. And you go to school, work and support yourself all alone. I admire that immensely. But it’s at my fingertips to give you more room to move around, decorate how you want and all the furnishings you could ever need. Why wouldn’t I do that for you?”

  He moves his fingers, brows arched as he awaits my reply.

  “Um, because you hardly know me? Or perhaps because I’m not your project or some pity case. I have my pride, Jefferson, and everything I need.” I cross my arms over my chest and scowl as meanly as I can.

  “You’re right, you’re neither of those things. But you are the woman I’m seeing, so You. Will. Be. Safe. And I Will. Do. Nice. Things. For. You. Because I want to. Because I can. And newly discovered, because you’re sexy as fuck when you get all defensive. And P.S., I know you better than you think I do.”

  “Nope,” I shake my head. “Not happening. This would set a scary precedent and next thing I know, you’ll be picking out my clothes and leading me around by a collar.”

  He busts out laughing, holding his side. “Are you,” he struggles for breath, “trying to say I’d treat you like a dog or make you my BDSM slave?”

  “The latter,” I hiss. “Yes, I read! I know all about it. This is reminding me of how chapter two started out in a dozen books I couldn’t finish!”

  For some reason, this makes him laugh even harder. In turn, making me talk even louder. “What is so damn funny? It’s a thing, and not an unreasonable assumption of how your bossiness will progress if I let this slide!”

  “So you know all about the BDSM world because you read books about it? I’m not an expert, or even a novice, but I’m pretty sure you can’t claim a vast knowledge based on what you’ve read. It’s one of those things I’m betting is a whole lot different when you actually experience it for yourself. Which, I have no interest to do. Unless you do?” He waggles his eyebrows.

  “Yes,” I roll my eyes as I slather on the dry sarcasm. “I think that’d be perfect. Stroll my almost twenty-year-old virgin self right up in the middle of a dark, members only club. You think I’d fit in?”

  He fakes a cough and diverts his eyes, tugging at his collar while beads of sweat dot his forehead.

  “Oh, please! Like you didn’t know I was a virgin. Don’t guys of your experience level have some sort of radar for that? And besides, I’m not a bit ashamed of it. Still wanna be my “Knight in Moving Man Armor” now?”

  He stands, grabs my mug and walks to the kitchen. When he returns, he hands me the freshly refilled coffee.

  “Drink up, you obviously need it. You’re a lil’ grumpy this morning,” he smiles. “Love sass, wit and an argument when you’re all sleepy sexy, but you’re teetering on scary now. While you drink, I’ll recap.” He sits back down. “Yes, I figured you were a virgin, not at all a deterrent. No, I have no predilection for BDSM. Or dogs, we established that last night. And finally, you are moving upstairs. Tell me what day works for you, and again, what I need to do with anything you’re not taking.”

  “Jefferson, I appreciate the thoughtfulness. Not so much your delivery, but thoughtful all the same. I’m still not moving.”

  He blows out a weighted breath and runs a hand through his hair, then looks me dead in the eyes. “You have to.”

  “Have to? Why is that?”

  “Because I’m evicting you from this one.”

  “You’re what?” I screech. “You can’t do that. You have to give me a notice and have a valid reason.”

  “We strongly suspect there’s mold in this apartment. By law, and every health code, we have to take immediate action. I’ll have an official notice to you by late afternoon.” He spews out the complete bullshit with a straight face and the finality of a man who’s used to getting his way.

  He speaks again, this time with friendly flirtation. “Bellamy, I can’t not want to take care of you. It’s in my DNA. But it does have its perks. A man who will do anything to ensure your safety, happiness and total satisfaction. You’ll see,” he winks, accentuating his unsubtle innuendo.

  “I’ll think about it,” I grouse. “The great part? Your family will think I’m leeching off you, a gold-digger. This was your idea. You better make that overly clear.”

  “You’ve met them,” he chuckles. “This is tame compared to the other men in my family. My mom actually refers to my father as “caveman,” often. None of them will even bat an eyelash. I promise.”

  “Fine, like I said, I’ll think about it.”

  “Let me see your phone,” he looks around for it.

  “Why?”

  “So you can call or text me when you decide what day works best for you. Just don’t forget, Friday’s out because we have the concert.”

  “You’re going with us?” No clue why I’m a bit surprised.

  “Yeah, I am. Who do you think gave her the tickets?”

  “So you bribed Brynn to be okay with,” I motion a finger between us, “this?”

  “Damn, you’re cynical in the morning. No. I didn’t know she was crying, stewing in her own guilt, when I pulled up, planning to give them to her. After we had a long talk and she had already realized for herself the error of her ways, then I handed them over. And she told me, with just a look, who was being invited. Us. Both.”

  “Okay, I believe you and that does make me feel better.” I rise and go grab my phone. “Here,” I hold it out to him when I return.

  He taps away on the screen then grins, handing it back. “There ya go. I’ve got your number and you’ve got mine. I gotta get to work,” he stands too, “but lemme know. You torture me, holding out
and making me wait too long,” he steps into me and says huskily, “I will return the favor one day soon.”

  “Don’t get too cocky, Kendrick. One man’s soon may be another woman’s never.” I toss on my sassiest smile.

  “Shy to the world, brazen lil’ vixen for me. I like it. Now, I really do have to go. Come ‘ere,” he grabs me around the waist and crushes me to him, claiming my mouth with a hungry growl.

  I go to my tiptoes and weave my fingers through his thick hair, pressing myself harder against his chest. His kisses are more intoxicating and influential than I like to admit, and I’m definitely scared to acknowledge how my feelings for him grow stronger every time we kiss, touch…or breathe the same air.

  But why? Why be scared, hold back, deny myself the pleasure of this overwhelming man?

  Because I’m absolutely terrified that if I allow myself to fully become the woman I am when I’m with him, once he’s gone, I won’t be able to find my way back. And even worse, I’ll be searching alone.

  He pulls back from our kiss, searching my face with concern on his. “Where’d ya go?”

  “Wh, what do you mean?” I stammer softly. I’m a very bad liar.

  “I lost you in the middle of that kiss. I could practically hear your wheels turning. What were you thinking about?” He skims his nose down my cheek, then throat. “Tell me, Bellamy.”

  “Self-preservation,” I answer in blunt honesty.

  “Hey,” he dips his head to catch my eyes. “I get it, believe me, I do. Think of it this way. Not only are we in it together, anxious, apprehensive about new territory for both of us, but we must be feeling the same intensity to have the same concerns. Right?”

  “Yeah,” I nod shakily. “Well put, and reassuring. Thank you.”

  “Thank you,” he grins, “for confirming I’m not imagining this. Now gimme one more,” he taps his lips.

  And I do. Ensuring he’ll be thinking of me the rest of the day.

  Seventeen

  JT

  I’M IN A meeting with a client I procured, my father on lead…when my phone vibrates in my pocket.

  Could it be one of my buddies with some non-important bullshit? Yes.

  Could it be my intriguing, obstinate in the most wonderful of ways, redhead? Yes, yes it could…which is why my father is about to be a seriously unhappy man.

  I clear my throat, trying to rise from my chair with as much decorum as possible. “Gentlemen, I apologize for the interruption, but I have an important call coming in I must take. Please, continue on without me.” I rip my phone out of my pocket and walk briskly from the room, feeling my dad’s eyes burning a hole in my back.

  As to not chance him storming out in the hall to inspect the phone call himself, I head straight for the men’s room, shutting myself in the far back stall.

  And I finally look at my phone.

  Totally worth my charade.

  Bellamy: Not ready to pick a day to actually move, but if you’re free tonight after I get off work, we can go up and look at it so I have a better idea of what to keep IF I agree to this.

  Me: What time do you get off work?

  Bellamy: 7, so I can meet you at my place around 7:35. Does that work?

  Me: Not even a little bit. I’ll pick you up. At work. At 7.

  Bellamy: *sigh* You don’t have to do that, Jefferson. No sense in you making an extra trip. I’ve ridden the bus for a long time, it’s not a problem.

  Me: See you at 7. Gotta go, meeting. Have a good day, and try not to argue with the customers. That pleasure’s all mine.

  I shoot off a text to the apartment complex manager, telling him to have the key waiting for me at the front desk, then hurry back into the meeting.

  “Everything all right?” My father asks in stern annoyance when I retake my seat.

  “Very good,” I try for a blank expression ‘cause it’s creepy as hell how well he can read it if you show one. “Sorry again for the disturbance.”

  He grins, actually grins, at me knowingly. “I’m glad to hear it. No apology necessary. Some things should always take precedence.”

  He knows who it was and sounds as if he not only understands, but dare I say seems happy for me? After all, I’m emulating, or trying to anyway, everything I learned watching him my whole life. He’d answer his phone while still in the room, mid-sentence, and kick everyone out if my mom needed him.

  I PULL UP outside The Pit Stop at seven p.m. sharp, ready to show Lil’ Miss Sassy Britches her new apartment.

  But when twenty minutes tick by and she still hasn’t emerged, I decide to go in and hunt her down. Swear to God, if she snuck out the back and took the bus to prove some point…I’m gonna enjoy showing her how ornery I can be too.

  I see her right when I step through the doors, waiting on a table of rowdy guys. I can feel her frustration from here—her smile is tight and forced and she’s rolled her eyes twice in the mere thirty seconds I’ve been watching.

  I start to approach, and as if sensing me, she turns her head my way. Her eyes bulge as she hurries over to me and starts babbling so fast, it’s almost incoherent.

  “I’m sorry, how long have you been waiting? This is why I told you I could take the bus, sometimes my shift runs over. I can’t clock out until they’re done. It’s my table, so I have to close out the ticket and they won’t leave. They’re done eating.” She uses both hands to push her hair back and finally takes a deep breath. “Bunch of jerks, probably won’t even tip.”

  “Where’s your manager?” I ask her, eyeing the table.

  “Ha!” She sneers. “Probably in the kitchen baking them a damn cake. I told him, but they’re as good as famous in his eyes. It’s-”

  “Oh Gingersnap, I need a refill,” one of them, back to me, yells at Bellamy.

  “One second,” she answers stiffly and blows out a heavy exhale. “I’ll be right back. And I’ll remind them of their ticket. I don’t want you wasting your whole night here.”

  I watch as she does her best to be friendly and patient, bringing the guy a refill and nudging the ticket on the table closer to him.

  And then…we cross over into very problematic territory. Way beyond the “thinking about snapping his fucking ‘oh gingersnap’ neck” zone he’d already entered. Yeah—caught it—didn’t like it. Dude grabs her upper thigh and pulls her to him, so rough she almost falls in his lap. She struggles to escape his clutches and turns her pale, scared face to me…already right at her side.

  “There’s a problem here,” I state.

  “No, everything’s cool, man. Mind your business,” one of the handsy dude’s friends replies. He looks familiar, but I can’t quite place him.

  “I didn’t ask if there was a problem.” I clarify, low and menacingly. “I said there was a problem. And I wasn’t talking to you. Talking to this one,” I slap and clamp down on the shoulder attached to the arm that’s attached to Bellamy. “Wanna let go of my girl, pay your tab and get the fuck out?” I ask him as calmly as I’m able…which isn’t too damn calm.

  That’s when he turns, finally giving me a shot of his face, explaining why the other guy looked familiar too. It’s the dude from Fahrenheit that serenaded Bellamy.

  “Your girl, huh?” He smiles snidely and gets out of his seat, releasing Bellamy in doing so. “This why you bailed on me that night?” he asks her, nudging his head toward me.

  “I…” she starts to offer this douche an explanation he’s neither owed nor deserves, but I nip that shit real quick.

  “Bellamy baby, go clock out and get your purse. I’ll pay these losers’ tab and meet you in the car,” I direct her, eyes never leaving douche and his merry band of bags.

  “I don’t need you to pay my tab, fucker. I make more money on one gig that you do in a year,” he laughs, his buddies joining chorus.

  “Maybe,” I shrug, knowing he doesn’t even come close. I don’t need to measure dicks with him—I’m packing…Bellamy. Out of here. With me. “If so, why not pay it then and quit
giving her a hard time? And touching her,” I fume, stepping up nose to nose with him. “That your M.O.? Wooing them from the stage all romantic and shit then stalking and groping them like a prick if they don’t come backstage?”

  “Like I have to stalk pussy,” he jeers. “Just happened to walk in here, there she was, figured she deserved a little shit for giving me the slip the other night.”

  “Well she doesn’t, neither does any woman. Here’s how this is gonna go. If you’re really able to pay your own tab, rock star, do it now or else I’m going to. Leave a big tip. Then get the fuck gone and know that you can’t ever come back in here again. As of tonight, you’re banned from the premises. Your second option is, I kick the shit out of you and you’re still banned. Choice is yours.”

  “You think you can get me, a member of Fahrenheit, banned from anywhere?” He cackles.

  “I know I can. Tell ya what, go to the counter and pay. By the time you’re done, I will be too.” I turn and head straight through the double doors leading to the kitchen and locate the manager.

  He and I have ourselves a short, but nice, little chat. Actually, I think it takes two active participants to “chat,” and I’m the only one who talks. He listens. Then we walk back out front together.

  Music man’s waiting with his arms crossed and a hotshot grin, that’ll be short-lived, on his face. “Well?” he says with a bravado he’s about to lose right along with that grin.

  “Um, Zeke. Excuse me, I mean Mr. Stryker…”

  I bark out a laugh…Stryker? Yeah, that’s the last name he was no way in hell born with, but he boasts it, so I get to hoot at his dumbass.

  “I’m Tony Salazar, Manager here at The Pit Stop. I’m going to have to ask you to not only leave immediately, but permanently prohibit you from returning to our establishment due to your behavior this evening.”