by Julia Sykes
“It’s fine,” I lied, taking another draw of my prosecco.
“It’s clearly not fine.” His hand covered mine where it was fisted on the table. “Hey. Look at me.”
I couldn’t resist the direct order. My eyes met his.
“I’m sorry.” The apology held the weight of truth. “I know it must be hard to make yourself vulnerable by putting your work out there. I should have been more careful with my words.”
“No. I’m glad you said how you actually feel. It’s hard to hear, but I understand completely. I’d prefer honesty to a pretty lie.” That much was the truth, even if my stomach was still in knots.
“All right,” he allowed. “I really do think you’re talented. You should be proud.”
Proud. There it was again: the reminder of how Thomas had told me he was proud, right before he’d blame my career for all of the problems in our marriage.
I picked up my sandwich and focused on eating so I could escape as soon as possible. I ignored the way the egg and cress tasted like ashes on my tongue.
Scott tucked into his food as well, and we ate in tense silence. The beautiful day was marred now. I blinked back tears, the intensity of my swinging emotions irrational. I’d been flying so high, and now I was crashing. It felt like I was dropping after a BDSM power exchange scene. Like I’d been whipped and then left without proper aftercare.
The sun no longer warmed my skin. I slipped back into my jacket to ward off the chill.
“I’ll walk you to the station,” I offered in a monotone when we’d split the bill. There was no reason to be rude, even if I did want nothing more than to run away from him.
He nodded his agreement, his jaw tight. When he stood, he didn’t take my hand. Mine twitched, tempted to reach for him. I balled my fingers into a fist at my side.
We walked out of the tea room and back onto The Shambles in awkward silence. My feet nearly carried me toward my Airbnb so I could get in bed and huddle under the covers. Resolutely, I forced my steps in the opposite direction, heading for the train station.
We made our way down the quaint Medieval street, but I barely paused to appreciate my surroundings. I no longer wanted to share this with Scott. I didn’t want any more memories with him. He was going to leave in half an hour. Why torment myself with more painful conversation when he was about to disappear from my life?
I stared straight ahead as we came out of the street and into King’s Square. The sweet scent of chocolate permeated the air, emanating from York’s Chocolate Story, an interactive museum about the candy manufacturer that had been established in the city back in the nineteenth century.
Despite the sweetness in the air, my stomach instantly soured. I stopped in my tracks with a sharp gasp.
“Shit.” The curse dropped from my lips without a thought.
Thomas stood in the square, watching a street artist perform a magic act. A woman stood next to him. She was pretty.
Nausea curled up my throat. She was my opposite: Slender. Petite. A mass of curly blonde hair framed her delicate features.
Jealousy didn’t flare. No part of me wanted to be tucked next to Thomas’ side. I wanted to be as far from him as possible. And yet, he stood only a few yards away from me.
I wanted to go to the woman, to warn her that he’d destroy her. He could be charming at first, but he’d rip her apart and wear down her spirit until there was nothing left.
“What’s wrong?” Scott’s warm hand touched my lower back.
I leaned into him, unable to resist the support. “That’s my ex,” I whispered.
“Where?”
“The guy with the dark hair. And the beard.” Per usual, it appeared that Thomas hadn’t bothered to shave in several days. It wasn’t exactly a beard. Just a disregard for his personal appearance. It had driven me nuts when we’d been together, but I hadn’t dared harp on him about it. According to him, I was already the source of his depression and callousness. I didn’t want to add to that by being a nag.
“Him?” Scott’s tone was colored with incredulity.
“Yeah.” I remained frozen in place, trapped by shock. I’d known that I’d probably run into Thomas around town. I’d told myself I was ready for this. But nothing could have prepared me for the turmoil that raged inside. I wanted to scream at him. I wanted to coldly smile at him and pretend I didn’t give a shit about his wellbeing. I wanted to cruelly mock him and make him look pathetic in front of the woman who accompanied him.
I wanted to run the fuck away and never look back.
Thomas glanced my way. His brown gaze held, his eyes widening with his own shock.
I forgot how to breathe. My skin pebbled beneath the protective layer provided by my leather jacket. I shifted back into Scott’s touch.
“Are you okay?” His voice floated down to me.
I nodded, but I couldn’t stop staring at Thomas. Tumultuous emotion kept me rooted in place, drowning me in indecision.
Suddenly, a hulking body blocked Thomas from my view. I blinked up to find Scott’s flame blue eyes burning into me. His hands cupped my face, and he leaned toward me. His soft lips captured mine without invitation, as though we’d done this dozens of times. As though he had every right. His tongue branded mine, stroking in to claim me.
My fingers curved into his shoulders, and I clung to him, barely able to match the passion of his mouth on mine. All thoughts were obliterated from my mind as I was swept up in his possessive kiss. The knots in my stomach loosened, melting with the heat that ignited in my belly. My panties grew damp, and a soft moan rolled from my chest. He devoured the sound, keeping my lips locked under his until my head spun from lack of oxygen.
When he finally pulled away, I sagged against him, gasping for breath.
“Let’s go,” he commanded.
He wrapped his iron arm around my waist and guided me forward, away from the square. Away from Thomas.
A giddy laugh bubbled in my throat, but it held no humor. I was flying high again. No, I wasn’t flying. I was caught in a riptide of emotion; tossed in the storm.
My lips tingled, and heat still simmered in my veins.
Anger followed lust. Why did Scott have to do this to me? Why did he have the power to raise me up high and send me crashing back down? I barely knew the man, but he had thoroughly captured all my senses.
And now, he was going to leave. We were walking toward the train station. In a few minutes, he’d be gone. I’d never see him again.
I tried to step away from him. He held me fast.
“I need to go,” I announced. “Do you know how to get to the station from here?”
His jaw tightened, and his nostrils flared as he drew in a deep breath.
I shrank out of his arms.
“I’m sorry,” the apology tumbled out. Despite my confusion, I hated that I’d upset him. “It’s just… You’re leaving. And I’m… I need to go home.”
I don’t have a home, either. He’d shared one of his soul’s secrets with me last night, after plucking my own from my psyche.
Because I wasn’t going home. The York flat I’d shared with Thomas and our cats wasn’t my home anymore. It never would be.
All I could do was return to my rented apartment and cry in the only private place I had.
“Bye.” I offered Scott a jerky wave and turned on my heel, half-fleeing down the cobbled street. I blinked back the burn behind my eyes. I could crumble in a few minutes, when I wouldn’t make a public scene. I straightened my spine and drew in a long breath, willing my steps to slow. Even now, I couldn’t bring myself to let Scott see what a mess I truly was. I much preferred being his fantasy woman.
Chapter 7
“So, how big is his dick?”
“Ashley!” I scolded, slapping my friend on the arm. She tried to scoot back, but she was trapped on the booth between me and Lizzy. My friends and I had taken over half the snug at Sotano, but we weren’t alone.
It was nearly two AM, and the underground gi
n joint was packed with people, all of whom were varying degrees of drunk.
Myself included. I couldn’t count how many glasses of prosecco I’d consumed, and now I was sipping my signature strawberry gin.
Ashley tossed her curly copper hair and straightened her glasses. “What?” she asked, trying and failing to sound completely innocent. “You’re obviously hung up on this Scott fellow. So, is he hung?”
“Oh my god,” I gasped, sneaking a glance at the lads across the snug from us. One of them caught my eye, and he smirked.
“Scott must be big,” Lizzy surmised. “But how big? Is he hung like a horse?” She held her hands out, measuring a distance of about three feet.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” I scoffed.
Lizzy’s blonde brows lifted, and she widened her measurement.
“He’s not an actual horse.” I rolled my eyes. “I know you’re into women, but I also know you’ve seen a human penis. You’re being silly.”
The guy across from me chuckled. I glanced back at him, and he held my gaze. He pushed his dark blond hair back off his brow, preening and leering.
“Can we not talk about penises right now?” I begged my friends, lowering my voice so I couldn’t be overheard.
Ashley waved me off. “Since when are you shy? You’re our favorite smut peddler.”
I suppressed a wince. “I write romance novels,” I corrected her. I’d laughed along with the smut peddler moniker in the past, but it really did bother me.
“Kinky romance novels,” Lizzy said pointedly. “Just how kinky is this sexy Scott? Surely, you’re not fucking a ’nilla.” She said our slang term for vanilla like it was a dirty word. “You said the sex was amazing.”
I sighed. “And I’m starting to regret having said that. Can we be a little quieter, please?”
“Fine.” Ashley leaned in so we could speak at a lower volume. “But seriously, you said he’s the hottest guy you’ve ever fucked. He must be kinky.”
“Well, not exactly. The first time we were together, he got a little bossy. But he made it clear he can’t be physically aggressive with me. I think the idea of it bothers him.”
“And what about the second time? How was last weekend?” Lizzy prompted. I’d already spilled the CliffsNotes version to her over text earlier in the week. “I’m not attracted to men, but I could objectively appreciate that he’s a handsome guy. Still, you don’t go for vanilla, no matter how hot they are.”
“Things were… more intense last weekend,” I admitted, still keeping my voice down. “He was more demanding. He knows how to seduce a woman, that’s for sure. And he started issuing orders, so that was hot.”
Lizzy blinked at me. “But he didn’t even spank you or anything? Let’s not pretend you’re not a bit of a pain slut.”
“Lizzy,” I hissed. I chanced another glance at the lad across from us. He was listening with open interest.
“Spill,” she demanded.
I rolled my eyes. “No,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper. “No spankings. And I’m not a pain slut. I just like a little punishment from time to time.”
“Uh-huh,” she replied sarcastically. “Yeah. Because you don’t love a good flogging.”
My sex clenched at the thought of Scott wielding a flogger.
I shook the image from my mind before it could fully form.
That would never happen. Not only was he not inclined to inflict pain, but I’d never see him again. I swallowed against the lump that threatened to form in my throat.
“It was wonderful, but we’re done,” I said firmly, pretending the words didn’t cut at me. “I don’t have any way of contacting him, and I don’t think he’ll ever contact me again.” My stomach turned as I remembered the harsh set of his jaw when I’d abandoned him in King’s Square. “We’re just not compatible. It would never work between us.”
“But you want to see him again, don’t you?” Ashley pressed.
I shifted, and Lizzy jumped on my hesitation.
“You do want to see him again!” she exclaimed. “Maybe he’ll come to another one of your book signings. That was pretty romantic.”
“Sounds very romantic,” the boy across the table slurred. He shot me a drunken grin.
“We weren’t talking to you,” Ashley said in her most scathing fuck-off-you-twat tone.
“Come on,” I urged. “Let’s go. I’m getting tired, and I really should write tomorrow.”
Lizzy held up one finger, indicating that I should wait a moment. She sucked down the last of her old fashioned and set the crystal glass on the wooden table with a definitive thunk. Ashley hadn’t indulged in anything but lemonade for the last hour—ever the responsible one, even if she did like to make lewd jokes rather loudly.
I checked my own glass to make sure I’d drained every drop of gin. All that remained was ice and some stray peppercorn garnish. I’d already consumed the boozy strawberry.
Aware of the boy still watching me, I carefully scooted out of the snug, keeping my form-fitting yellow dress pulled down so the hem didn’t ride up over my knees. I wasn’t usually so modest, but I didn’t like the way he was smirking at me.
A few steps later, and I’d forgotten all about him in my tipsiness. My friends and I made our way up the stairs back to street level. We said our goodbyes and hugged one another before heading off in opposite directions. It was late, but I was familiar with the short walk to my Airbnb. York was a safe city, and I had no concerns about walking myself across town at any time of day or night.
I headed through the Spanish Quarter, past gaggles of people spilling out of the dance clubs that crowded this street. I took a sharp right down a little-trafficked snickleway—one of the tiny alleyways that served as a shortcut through the city. It was quieter in the narrow space, and I welcomed the reprieve from raucous laughter and pulsing music.
“Oy!” a masculine voice called from behind me. “Where you headed, love?”
I turned to face the blond boy from Sotano. The back of my neck prickled with warning, but I was drunk enough to find foolish confidence.
“My apartment,” I said coldly. “You should go back to your friends.”
He took a step toward me. The snickleway suddenly felt far too isolated and cramped.
“I’d rather go with you.”
“That’s not on the table.” I remained cool, implacable. Running seemed like an extreme choice, as did screaming. I wasn’t some attention-seeking victim. I could handle myself. “Go away.”
“Don’t be like that, pet.”
“I’m not your pet,” I snapped. Usually, I found that Yorkshire endearment particularly sweet. Now, it left me cold. “I’m leaving now.”
I turned away from him, but he caught my wrist.
I knew fighting was useless. Not only would I probably rile him, but I had zero skills when it came to general coordination, much less self-defense.
Instead, I turned my coldest, most polite Southern smile on him. “You should go back to your friends. There are plenty of women at Sotano. You’ll have a lot more fun there.”
“I’d rather have fun with you. I heard you talking to your friends. You like big cock. I’m huge, love.”
My heart beat faster, but I still wasn’t as panicked as I should be. Alcohol dulled my sense of danger. I knew this wasn’t a safe situation, but my mind was too muddled to muster up a solution other than talking my way out of this. Screaming was definitely out of the question. That was far too dramatic.
I eyed the boy up and down. He couldn’t be much older than twenty.
“You don’t look huge to me.”
He scowled, and his hand tightened around my wrist.
A shadow appeared behind him, looming large. “Walk away.” The accent was American, the voice rough with menace. “Let her go, and walk away.”
The boy released me and spun around to face the threat. Scott stepped into the dim light provided by a spare bulb overhead. Shadows pooled beneath his drawn brows and high c
heekbones, giving his face a skull-like appearance. He seemed taller than ever, much taller than the boy who’d accosted me.
I shrank back against the brick wall behind me.
“Go,” he bit out.
The boy darted away, half-running out of the alley and back toward the safety of the crowds in the Spanish Quarter.
Scott didn’t afford me a similar escape. He took a step toward me, and the light shifted on his face. Suddenly, his eyes were illuminated: pale chips of ice that cut straight into me.
“I’m taking you back to your place,” he announced.
“What?” I spluttered. “What are you doing here?”
“I was looking for you. When the bartender said you’d just left Sotano, I started heading toward your apartment. Then, I heard that little shit talking to you. What in the hell were you thinking, walking down this alley at this time of night?”
“It’s a snickleway,” I corrected him, my voice slurring slightly.
“You’re drunk.”
I shrugged. “That’s none of your business.”
He took another step toward me. I tried to put distance between us, but there was nowhere for me to go. He stared down at me, imposing his will on me.
“Are you going to walk back to your apartment, or am I going to have to carry you?”
I lifted my chin, my tipsy state still keeping my fear responses dulled. “I’ll walk.”
I should be far more intimidated, but I was stuck on irritation. Why was Scott here, back in York? Over the last week, I’d convinced myself that it was for the best that I’d never see him again. I’d convinced myself that I didn’t want to see him again. I hadn’t been lying when I’d told my friends that Scott and I would never work as a couple.
“You’re not even kinky,” I said sulkily, continuing my line of thinking aloud.
“Excuse me?” he demanded, his voice as icy as his gaze.
I rounded on him. “You heard me. You’re not kinky. So, what are you doing here? Why bother?”
His eyes narrowed. “I’m asking myself the same thing right now.”
I gasped and reeled back. “You don’t have to be a bastard about it.”
