by Amber Bardan
A flush crept up my face. I wanted to be fucked, even if only as part of an exchange. Hot as I was, my chest went hollow—a hollowness that managed to contain something after all.
Hurt.
I bit my bottom lip. And I’d thought it was harder to get to me than that. Must be the wine. The car stopped in front of my apartment building.
“Do you always assume the worst?”
I glanced at him. Screw you. Did everyone always have to do the worst to me?
I unhooked my seatbelt. “Goodbye, Avner.”
His fingers closed around my wrist.
“Get out of the car, Emilio.”
My attention snapped to the front seat. Oh, shit. I’d gotten so wrapped up in the conversation, I’d forgotten about Emilio. Thank god he didn’t speak English. I’d die if he repeated any of this to Haithem.
Emilio turned off the engine, then exited the car. Hold on—he’d just responded to English.
The door slammed shut, leaving Avner and me alone.
The faker—I knew it.
I glanced to Avner’s hand on my wrist.
“Emma.” Something in his voice changed, no longer purring and playful. “When Angelina was gone, if you’d known she was in danger, if she’d have come to you for help, would you have helped her?”
I froze. We didn’t bring that time up. At least not so specifically. There was such a tangled mess of hurt there, the only choice had been to let it go. “Of course.” I raised my chin. “If I’d been trusted with the truth from the start instead of being lied to for months, if given the chance, of course I’d have done anything to help them.”
“Really?” His grip intensified, and he dragged my hand toward him, inching me closer. “If it were dangerous, would you still have helped her?”
My chest throbbed. Angelina and I had been through hell together well before she met Haithem. My mum. Her brother. She was the only person who didn’t pretend not to know about my dad—and who’d practically kidnapped me to her place when things got bad. “I said yes.”
“What if it meant lying to the authorities? Could you have kept quiet for months if you were interrogated?” His eyes went darker and harder, and he drew on my wrist again, until there was only a breath of space between us. “Would you have risked being charged with obstruction of justice for them? Even though as you said, they lied to you? They hurt you. Would you still have risked everything to help them?”
I didn’t breathe, didn’t blink, even though pain spiked through me. I knew the truth. “I still would have.”
“You’d risk your career, your freedom, your safety, just because you’re a good friend?”
“Yes,” I shouted.
“So why aren’t you worth being looked after too?”
Pain slammed into me.
My head reeled, my mind skipped. I jerked in his grip, but he pulled me closer, and his other hand closed around the top of my arm.
His stared at me, his gaze flicking across my eyes. “Is it because you’re not really a good friend?”
I held all the breath I could catch. “No.”
“Then you wouldn’t betray Angelina and Haithem? You’re loyal?”
What was he doing? He was crazy.
“I’d never betray them,” I said through my teeth.
His lips turned down. “Then why would you take potentially revolutionary research to someone else?”
“That’s not what I’m doing.” My voice went high. Oh, god. Is that would they would think?
“You can’t have it both ways, you’re either working with them or against them.”
I grabbed onto the inside of his sleeve at his biceps. Is that how they’d feel? His words poured into me—biting—piercing me in the tender places I had left. In the one place I cherished and held dear.
My entire chest hurt. The muscles, my ribs, my lungs. “It’s not like that. I just want to make it on my own.”
“Then do it with me.” His touch gentled. He stroked the outside of my arm. “I’ll fund your research. Not Guardian, me personally.”
I blinked, and searched his face.
“Didn’t you say this research was important to you? Didn’t you say you’d do anything?” His touch traveled my arm, and he brushed hair back from my face and slid his fingers behind my ear. “We’ll do it together. We’ll be successful together. We’ll save lives together.”
His breath washed against me. His heat engulfed me. His lips hovered so close my mind filled with the unshakable memory of kissing him.
Most of all, what he said filled a desperate need inside me. Hope. My ambitions and the drive to succeed.
“You won’t have to rely on them, and they won’t be hurt that you went to Dean.” His other hand snaked to my waist, and he caught me up so completely against him, I couldn’t focus outside of his touch or the way he looked at me—hungry and visceral. “Do this with me. We’re friends, aren’t we?”
My head lolled into his hand. I ran my fingers up to his shoulder. He was so strong.
So strong.
His muscles slid under my touch. Not just his body, but him. There’s no way I’d fail working with him.
He knows how to get what he wants...
My drooping eyes widened. No. Like that, I could think again. He did know how to get what he wanted. Including resorting to bribery. That’s what he’d just done with me. Everything he’d said was to get me to do what he wanted. I stilled, but didn’t pull away. My research wasn’t their area of expertise—it was Waldolf’s. Not to mention they had practically all the money in the world. They didn’t need my research even if the results ended up financially beneficial.
That’s not why this work was important to me at all. An investor would expect a profit, but I’d do this for nothing if I could. Haithem and Angelina wouldn’t resent me, no matter who I worked with or for.
Anger spiked through my system.
I knew how to dabble in a little innocent manipulation—a twist to a smile here, a bite of my lip there—to bend things my way. But what he’d done to me, it wasn’t a smile or a wink, or even a look, and it sure as hell wasn’t innocent.
He’d used words.
Words he could have plucked directly from my own skull. Words I feared and desired most. Words he flung at me like little snares to reel me in.
“The problem is I don’t trust you.”
He dropped his hand from the back of my head to rest high on my shoulder at the base of my neck. “I’ve given you no reason not to trust me.” His eyes went lazier. Those impossible lashes of his, lowering, sucking me into the pure sex of his gaze. “We’re friends. You can trust me.”
“I don’t think so. You already let me down once,” I whispered, and good-job-me for managing speaking.
“How’s that?” he drawled, but his lashes opened.
He still tried to seduce me into his grasp. Damn him, it was effective. Being so close, his hands on me, looking at me that way, it was all so very effective.
“You promised to get me off.” I let it all purr into my voice. All the lust he tried to use against me, I turned it back on him, and whispered, “But, I didn’t get off.”
He laughed, a rich rumble so close I almost felt the vibration of it. “Are you implying I need to fuck you to earn your trust?”
His thumb dipped lightly into a groove at my collarbone.
There was no way to suppress the pulse he must feel there, but so what, he couldn’t be sure it was desire. “You’ve fucked me three times already.”
He twitched, the passionate haze lifting lightly from his expression. “How do you figure that?”
“The way you looked at me before, you were fucking me with your eyes.” I kneaded his shoulder. “The night of the wedding, that night you just plain fucke
d me over. And again now, you’re fucking with me right now. Fucking with my head.” I pushed myself away from him. “So that’s three times you’ve fucked me. Three times and I haven’t come once.” A snarl moved into my lip. “So sorry, that’s just not the way I like to be fucked.”
I turned for the car door and grabbed the handle.
“Are you screaming?”
I paused, and glanced back. “What?”
“Are you screaming, Emma?”
The handle slipped from my damp fingers. “No, I’m not screaming.”
He reclined back into his seat. “You sure?”
“I’m sure.”
He stretched his legs out. Non-threatening, except for the look on his face. “Are you sure you’re not screaming inside your head where I can’t hear?”
There was something happening in my head all right. Not screaming. My heart pounded in my temples. “I’m definitely not screaming.”
He smirked and it was as irresistible on him as it was obnoxious. “Then you can be damn sure, Emma, if you’re not screaming, I’m not fucking you.”
Chapter Seven
Emma
I stalked the measly length of my apartment, double-checking everything was packed for Monday. It was. Even the damn TV. My internet already disconnected. The fridge emptied.
My stomach rumbled. Right now I could’ve been eating ten grand worth of fine dining. My fists made a drumming motion on the outsides of my thighs. If not for one great big annoying bloody bastard, I’d be feasting on dessert by now, my entire future set.
“We’ll be successful together. We’ll save lives together.”
His voice rang in my head, clearer than it’d been when he’d actually said the words. I shook my head. Avner was dangerous.
Head messyingly, vagina hypnotizingly dangerous.
Some girls might find that irresistible. I crossed into the kitchen, tugging open the cupboards. Not me—nope. Super-sexy was never my deal, at least not for “dating.”
Not that I didn’t truly appreciate an attractive man. I mean, when I’d seen Haithem, I’d been thrilled for Angelina. She deserved a little drop-dead gorgeous in her life.
She deserved, hot, rich, protective and smart.
The top shelf was as bare as the rest of my sad, lonely kitchen. Bummer. Not even a stray emergency box of crackers. I shut the cupboard.
Me, I liked grateful.
Grateful was the exact right way for a man to be. Not too good looking. Not too assertive. A man who knew his place—thanking me for the one-time-only joyride of his life.
“If you’re not screaming, I’m not fucking you.”
My skin prickled, my core engaged and my pussy pulsed.
Screaming. Ha! I didn’t scream. Moaning—sure. I liked the heck out of sex. My number one favorite pastime. What else in life was pure pleasure and burned calories?
Sex was like eating delicious magic donuts that made you skinny—bliss. Like with donuts, when it came to men, I preferred variety.
Except now I had this boggling craving for something completely specific.
So specific I’d been depriving myself of all alternatives.
I tapped a nail on my forearm. An alternative was exactly what I needed.
Break the drought, Em. Break it.
I took off my necklace, put on slightly more casual shoes, yanked the pins out of my hair and dragged my fingers through it, then grabbed my bag and keys, and slipped out the door.
I made it to Barney’s exactly fifteen minutes before the kitchen closed—thankfully because the other thing I’d come out to have filled would have to wait until after my belly was properly sated.
“Hey, chick.” Daniel, the bartender, slid a sparkling water theatrically down the bar.
I caught the bottle at the edge, then scooted onto a stool. “I’m starving.”
“Usual?” he called out, filling a wine glass.
Salad? My stomach gurgled. “Actually, I think I’ll have the parma with veg.”
Danny handed the glass to his customer, punched my order into the register then wandered over. “You seeing someone?”
Wait, did I look as worked up as I felt? “No.”
“Haven’t seen you in a while.”
Phew. I wasn’t so transparent. I cracked the water bottle. “Been busy getting ready for the move, but as if I wouldn’t come and say goodbye.”
Actually, I’d intended to do goodbyes tomorrow, but let’s just pretend ending up here tonight was the plan all along.
“Not going to miss you at all.” Danny grabbed the edge of the bar, and lifted himself up to lean over the top and plant a peck on my cheek. “You’re my worst regular.”
I laughed. Worst—cheapest, definitely. At least I occasionally ordered food and coffee even if I steered clear of alcohol. Barney’s was my regular pit stop. Somewhere to grab something to eat or a coffee before going out or meeting up.
Danny leaned back. “Oh, almost forgot, some guy was in here asking about you.”
“What?” I straightened on the stool. I didn’t bring or meet guys here. No way, that’d be as bad as taking them to my place. I’d risk having to find another local pub that served consistently good squid salad, with a friendly bartender who didn’t hit on me due to my lack of penis. “Who?”
“Don’t know. He wasn’t your type though.” He gave me his sassy eyes. “He was mine.”
I squinted. Daniel loved to mock my taste in “pretty boys,” as he called them. Boyish boys. Which meant whoever asked about me would be big, bearded, tattooed or just generally overtly manly—Danny’s type.
A gasp escaped me. No way. There was one big obnoxious manly man I knew. I thumbed through my phone to the photos from Angelina’s wedding, then held out the phone. “Was this him?”
Daniel laughed, his short, neat teeth flashing.
“What’s funny?” I glanced back to the screen, trying not to sigh at the image of Avner in his groomsman attire.
“Oh, honey, what’s funny is you thinking that I’d have let that lovely boy out of this bar.” Daniel winked at me before moving to serve another customer.
I turned the glass bottle on the bar top.
Who the hell asked about me then?
Minutes later my meal landed in front of me. The chicken parmigiana filled more than half the plate—big and steaming and smothered with stretchy cheese. I didn’t bother blowing on the bites first, just let the chicken sear my palate on its delicious way down.
Daniel stopped to collect my plate.
I wiped my face on a napkin. “How long ago did that guy show up?”
“Wednesday. I think. Maybe?” He scooped up my empty water bottle, and raised his brows. “Don’t you worry, he won’t be back. I told him you’d left town.”
I watched Daniel get back to work. The meat churned in my stomach. I’d eaten too much of a too heavy meal, and given myself an oh-so-sexy Buddha belly.
I ordered another water, then stared at my phone, finding myself scrolling through the photo album again. Finding myself caught up by one particular face.
“Do you want me to fuck you like you are a naughty, dirty girl...”
My gaze focused. Avner’s contact was selected from my address book, my thumb hovering over Call. I jumped, hit the screen lock button and sculled the bubbly water.
“What are you hanging around for?” Danny stood beside me, tugging on his jacket. “Wanna party with me?”
I blinked. How long had I been sitting here? Long enough for Daniel to knock off the dinner shift. “Thanks, but I think I’ll just have a coffee and head home.”
“You sure? We’ll have a jolly gay time...” He wiggled his brows.
Oh, we would. It’d be both jolly and gay at his choice of ve
nue. Good time guaranteed. And I hadn’t made out with a woman in a while... Tempting, but I’d lost my enthusiasm for tonight somewhere shortly after leaving the apartment.
“I’m sure. Thanks anyway. Bye, Danny.” I slid off the stool and gave him a big squeeze.
We parted and I gestured over his shoulder to the man behind the bar. “Who’s that?”
“New guy. First shift.” Daniel made a face. “Straight as an arrow.”
I laughed. “But can he make a decent coffee?”
“You’ll have to find out and let me know.” He blew me a kiss, and headed to the doors.
I waved, then New Guy wandered over and I put his coffee skills to the test by ordering a
piccolo. I sipped, not bad. Not great either. Daniel knew how to get the milk extra silky. Coffee finished, I paid and slipped off the stool. My bladder made itself known the moment my feet touched the ground—my tummy did too with a churn. Should not have eaten that chicken so fast. There was a chance it was about to go straight through me. I headed to the bathrooms, swaying for a moment in the hallway.
I caught myself against the wall.
The hall wobbled. I rolled my back to the wall, heart slow but thudding. Not the chicken. I turned myself back in the direction of the bar, and took a step. My foot went through the ground. I held on to the wall. Tried to suck in air. Tried to shake the fog and find focus. I reached into my bag, gripped my phone, pulled it to my chest and drove my thumb against the unlock button.
A hand gripped my shoulder.
The ground shook.
I jammed the phone into my bra before I could drop it.
“There you are,” the voice warbled against my ear.
* * *
A sharp bitterness filled the back of my mouth. I rubbed my furry tongue to the roof of my palate, then stretched my jaw, tugging myself a fraction from smothering fatigue. My pulse thundered in my ears—memories returning swifter than muscle control. I opened my eyes. White. I blinked at the unfamiliar ceiling. Holy Fuck. I ran my heavy hands over myself, shoving aside a starchy sheet, and glanced down to see my own little black dress still on me. I pushed my hands between my legs—panties intact. Air rushed out of lungs, and I cupped my perfectly normal, not broken, vagina.
