The place went nuts. The crowd had to be seventy-five percent male, and all of them were hooting and hollering at her. Tate smiled, and winked, biting the tip of her tongue between her teeth. It was clear that she knew what she was doing, knew how to work the crowd. She turned around and bent at the waist, shaking her ass a little. The roar grew to a deafening level. She finally stood up and turned back around, waving everyone away. Then she turned to Jameson.
“I didn't say you looked bad,” he pointed out. She shook her head.
“You're ridiculous. If you don't like what I'm wearing, leave,” she suggested before prancing back down the bar to wait on customers.
“Not until you agree to talk with me, Tatum!” Jameson shouted over the din. She glanced at him while she expertly twirled bottles in her hands, throwing liquor into glasses.
“I still don't know what it is we have to talk about!” she yelled back, twirling two shakers at once. She was very good at her job.
“The way you talk, the way you dress, your makeup, your ass!” he replied. At the word “ass”, some idiot next to him cheered.
“Best I can tell, not one of those things is any of your business!” she pointed out, cracking open one of the shakers and letting a blue concoction pour into a martini glass.
“I'm making them my business. I want to get to know you,” he said.
“But not date me,” she clarified, pouring the second drink.
“Don't be fucking stupid,” Jameson laughed.
Tate made her way back to him and then planted her hands on the bar, spreading her arms wide. She leaned close to him, very close, her breath hot against his lips. Her loose shirt hung forward and he had a perfect view down her cleavage.
“What do you want, Kane?” she asked in a low voice. He dragged his gaze away from her tits and stared her in the eye.
“Call me that name again, and I will punish your mouth,” he warned her. She chuckled.
“Don't make promises you won't keep,” she retorted.
Oh my, I may have met my match. This should be interesting.
“Who says I won't? I have big plans for that mouth,” Jameson said, pinching her chin between his fingers. She rolled her eyes.
“Not gonna happen, Kane. Not any part of me, is going to touch any part of you, so you had better get used to that idea,” she informed him before pulling away.
We'll see about that.
“Alright. But we are going to talk,” he repeated himself. She heaved a sigh.
“Fine. Fine. How about we make an appointment? Say, tomorrow? One o'clock? Does that work for you, my lord and master?” she taunted. He took out his phone.
“I'm marking it down. Meet me at my office,” he told her. She snorted.
“Fine, whatever,” she grumbled at him. He glanced up at her.
“You had better show up. If I have to come get you, you won't like it,” Jameson warned her.
“Talk, talk, talk. In my experience, men who talk as much as you, have very little action to back it up,” she said. He cocked up an eyebrow.
“You've experienced me in action. And there wasn't very much talking.”
She rolled her eyes and then grabbed his glass, drinking the rest of his bourbon in one shot.
“You put too much emphasis on the past, Kane. It was one time, one time. The great Jameson Kane is hung up on a one night stand? It was nothing, it's long gone. We'll talk about whatever you want tomorrow, then it's goodbye,” she informed him before walking off. He smirked at her.
Twice. She called me by my last name twice. Now she really owes me.
~5~
Tate sat in a chair in an anteroom outside of Jameson's office. She had thought about blowing him off, but she didn't want him showing up at her apartment again. How had he known where she lived, anyway? And he had said he was scared of it – Mr. Prissy Pants had probably never been in a low-rent building.
Asshole.
She had no clue what was going on between them. He challenged her, she played his games. She could have walked away from him – the moment he entered that conference room, she could've walked out. When he touched her leg, she could have slapped him. Could have screamed and acted like a scared girl.
But something about him still got under her skin. There was truth to what Ang had said, her night with Jameson had greatly affected her. It not only set about a major change in her life, but had helped her discover a new side to herself. Tate liked to be treated roughly. She liked to be talked dirty to, liked to be pushed around. Of course, only on her terms, and only by men she liked. She didn't like Jameson Kane, and nothing with him was ever on her terms. He made her nervous. He made her hot. He confused her.
“Ms. O'Shea?”
She snapped out of her daze. It was obvious that the secretary had been standing there for a while. Tate smiled and got up, following the woman into a large office. Jameson hadn't spared any expense – large windows with amazing views. Mahogany furniture. Impressive credentials in frames. Was that a real Mark Rothko on the wall!?
“I figured you would stand me up,” Jameson got out of his chair as the secretary backed out of the room. Tate shrugged and walked forward, flopping into a chair across from his desk.
“As cute as stalking is, I figured I'd better nip this in the bud,” she replied. His eyes traveled up and down her form.
“You look different today. Every time I see you, it's like a different person,” he said. She glanced down at herself. She was wearing wide legged suit pants, ballet flats, and a blouse with puffed, cap sleeves. All black.
“I'm temping for an upscale salon today. What do you want?” Tate got to the point. He smiled at her.
“So impatient. How've you been? Did you finish school?” he inquired, taking his seat again.
She narrowed her eyes at him. He said he just wanted to talk, but then he would make comments about punishing her mouth, and other things. He said he didn't want to date her, but he seemed borderline obsessed with getting to know her. He made her mind spin in circles.
“I've been fan-fucking-tastic. I dropped out of school right after I left Harrisburg. Is that it?” she asked, surging to her feet.
“Sit down,” he commanded in a stern voice, and she immediately did so – shocking herself a little.
“What do you want, Kane? Let's not beat around the bush. You don't know me – you never cared to know me before, so what's the big deal now? If I disappeared off the face of the earth tomorrow, it wouldn't affect your life,” Tate pointed out.
“Maybe not. But I'm kind of used to getting what I want, and like I said, you intrigue me,” Jameson replied. She scooted to the edge of her chair.
“Okay, fine. My life story – I left home after the night I slept with you, didn't look back. My father called me, told me he wouldn't pay my tuition anymore. I told him to fuck off. My mother called me and told me I wasn't welcome in their home anymore. I told her to fuck off. Ellie called me and told me I was the biggest whore she'd ever met. I told her to go fuck herself. I dropped out of school. I got a job at a Chili's. I moved out my apartment. Got a second job cleaning motel rooms. Moved to a shittier apartment. Got my job at the bar – moved in with Rusty, to an even shittier apartment.
“But you know what's crazy? I was happy. I got to be me – I never got to be me, before I left. It was awesome. I drank a lot, I did a lot of drugs, I had a lot of sex, and it was all awesome. Now you're pretty much caught up to speed. Can I go?” she said it all rapid fire, speaking as fast as she could. Jameson leaned back in his chair.
“Do you still do drugs?” he asked. She rolled her eyes.
“Pot sometimes. I've tried ecstasy, and coke. Acid once, but not really into all that stuff anymore. Never did anything super hard core,” she replied.
“Scandalous. How many guys have you slept with?”
“Too many to count,” she responded. Now it was his turn to roll his eyes.
“Stop being cute. How many?” he asked again. She shrugged.
“I don't keep count. A lot, but not, like, astronomical.”
“Any as good as me?”
“A couple.”
“Doubtful.”
Tate stared at him for a minute. Was he really insecure about how he stacked up? Seemed ridiculous. He'd probably been fucking his way through the Ford Modeling Agency. She knew there was no way she could compare to the women he must have slept with since their time together. She let out a deep sigh.
“Is that what you really want to know about? You can just ask,” she told him. “I'd had sex with one other person, before you. What you and I did was ... intense. Probably not right on more levels than I like to acknowledge, but I liked it. It took me a while to admit that, you know. That I liked it. I thought something was wrong with me – you were a complete dick, but I couldn't stop thinking about it.
“Then a couple months after I moved back here, after I moved out of the apartment Daddy had rented, I went to this party. Got a little drunk. This guy was hitting on me, really laying it on, and it was like the old Tate kept whispering 'ew, you can't stand here and listen to this, it's inappropriate! You'll get in trouble!', but another side of me started going, 'who cares? He's hot, you're horny – just fuck him, you don't have to answer to anyone but yourself' – and it was like something in me changed. I could do that, if I wanted to. No parents to worry about upsetting, no reputation to really care about, none of that stuff. Turned out the guy was horrible in bed, a total waste of time. But it helped me realize something – I like sex. I like having sex, I like being sexy. I like being single. I like being me, and fuck anyone who doesn't like it,” she finished.
“So, you couldn't stop thinking about it, huh? Do you still think about it?” Jameson asked. Tate groaned.
“You are the most self-obsessed asshole I've ever met,” she told him. He laughed.
“You may have done a one-eighty, but I'm still pretty much the same guy – just sharper claws,” he warned her.
“No, I don't think about it,” she answered his question. “I didn't even recognize you at first, in that kitchen. Took a while for it to click.”
“What about what happened in that conference room? Are you okay with that?” he asked. She blinked in surprise. He shifted gears so fast, completely dominated the conversation. If it could even be called that – she felt like she was being interrogated.
“Which part? You tricking me into a job? Or feeling me up in front of a bunch of suits?” she asked for clarification. He smiled.
“I already know you liked it when I touched you, so how about when you took off your panties? I didn't make you do that – pretty bold move, I didn't expect it,” he said.
“Probably because you don't know me. Maybe that's an every day thing for me, not bold at all,” she pointed out.
“I don't think so. I challenged you. You didn't like it. You stepped up to the plate. I admire that,” he commented.
“Yeah, and I knocked it out of the park. Game over. I win. You lose,” Tate replied. His eyebrows shot up.
“You didn't win shit, the game isn't over yet. How far would you be willing to go?”
“I'm not playing games with you, Kane.”
“You started them. If you can't handle it, just say so.”
“I can handle anything you can dish out.”
They stared at each other for a minute, the tension thick in the air. She didn't know what was going on between them – she should get up and walk away. But it was like that night in his apartment all over again. What Tate should do, and what she was going to do, were two very different things. He fascinated her. She usually intimidated men, or was just a good-time girl to them. Rarely did she banter or spar with them, and if she did, she had no trouble ripping them a new ass hole. Jameson, though, was unrippable.
“I want to hear about the best sex you've ever had,” he switched the subject again. Tate laughed.
“Are you sure? It's not you,” she teased. It was a complete lie, but she wasn't about to tell him that.
“I'll be the judge of that. Let's hear it,” he said, leaning back in his chair. She thought for a second, leaning back as well.
“It was probably with my friend Ang, like two years ago or something. I had a boyfriend, but he found out that I had slept with his best friend. It was before we had started dating, but he didn't care. Totally freaked out in a club, started screaming that I was the biggest slut he'd ever met, just a huge whore. He kept shouting it to anyone who would listen,” Tate started. Jameson sighed.
“So your friend Ang came to your aide after a nasty, embarrassing break up. Comforted you, wanted you to feel good about yourself,” he tried to fill in the story. Tate threw her head back and laughed.
“Not so much. Ang dragged him outside and beat the shit out of him. Pretty hot. We fucked right there in the alley. Ang bent me over a staircase and explained to my boyfriend, in graphic detail, what a good fuck he was missing out on by dumping me,” she finished.
“Wow. That was the best sex you ever had?” Jameson asked. She shrugged.
“Easily in the top five. Most of those are Ang,” she supplied.
“Must be an animal in bed.”
“Yeah – he also has a huge dick.”
She was trying to shock him on purpose, now. Tate was very comfortable talking about sex, and in her experience, men tended to get nervous when confronted with a woman who talked the way she did. Not Jameson Kane, however. He nodded at her comment, showing all the interest of someone listening to a weather report.
“That does help. Are you two still together?” he asked.
“We were never together. We're just friends who happen to sleep together, when the mood strikes us,” she explained.
“And how does one become a friend like that to you?” Jameson inquired. Tate snickered.
“Why, Mr. Kane, do you want to be fuck buddies with me?” she asked in a teasing voice.
“Leave out the buddy part,” he responded. She leaned forward in her chair.
“Not be you. Is that what this is really about? You want to have sex with me?” she asked.
“Of course I do. You can lie to me all you want, but I have no problem admitting that you are still, to this day, probably the hottest pussy I've ever had,” he said, his voice casual.
Tate inhaled sharply and choked a little. Ang was pretty blunt with her, but very few other men ever talked to her quite like that – it did something to her blood pressure. Hearing Jameson say it, did something to her. She rubbed her thighs together and took a deep breath.
“That's very flattering, Kane. Doesn't mean there will ever be a repeat,” she replied.
“Why not?”
“Because. It's a bad idea. You were a massive dick. I'm a different person. It wouldn't be the same,” she suggested. He nodded.
“You're right. It'll probably be much better, you were so inexperienced last time,” he said bluntly. She let out a snort – she was offended.
“If I was so 'inexperienced' and am still the best pussy you've ever had, then you have been sleeping with some very subpar women,” Tate pointed out.
“I'm beginning to think I have. Why is it a bad idea? I mean, even if those things are true, what do they have to do with us sleeping together? You don't want a boyfriend, I don't want a girlfriend, so me being a dick and you being different has nothing to do with us screwing,” Jameson pointed out.
Hmmm, he has a good point.
She shook her head.
“How about I just don't want to.”
“Liar.”
“You're like this super sexy, tycoon, wolf, man, person, thing – you can sleep with any girl you want. What's the big deal about me?” Tate asked, picking a paperweight up off his desk and tossing it between her hands.
“Most girls want something from me. A commitment, a connection, a trophy. Mostly I just want sex. Maybe someone I can treat badly from time to time,” he said. “I think you're looking for similar things. I think we could help e
ach other.”
That caught her off guard. Despite their history, they didn't actually know each other very well; yet he had her all figured out. His words were like poetry to her, and at first, all she could think about was saying yes. Yes, to anything he wanted. And his words paired with the smoldering look on his face made him all that harder to resist. It was a look that said he knew exactly what she wanted, and he knew exactly how to give it to her. She took a deep breath and steeled her nerves.
“You know what,” Tate began, standing up and putting the paperweight down. “I think we're done here. You wanted to talk to me, you did. You wanted to hear how I've been doing, I told you. You asked if I would sleep with you, I declined. Are we finished?”
He stared up at her, a smile spreading across his lips. Even though he looked at her like he was picturing her naked, he still managed to have a slight look of disdain about him. Like he knew something she didn't, and was gloating about it. Holding it over her head, out of her reach. She hated that feeling.
“Yes, I suppose so. When your curiosity gets the better of you, come back and see me,” Jameson told her. She rolled her eyes and grabbed her purse.
“Goodbye, Kane,” she said before walking out of the room at a brisk pace.
Tatum hadn't gotten to the point she was in life by lying to herself. He was right – she was curious. She did want to sleep with him, wanted to see if it would be the same. If it would be better. There really wasn't any reason why they couldn't, or shouldn't, other than that she didn't want to let him win. If withholding sex was the only weapon she had, then she would wield it with a vengeance.
Maybe ...
When she got outside, she dug her phone out of her purse and called Ang. She was walking so fast, her hair was bouncing all over the place, but she couldn't slow down. If she hadn't been worried about looking completely crazy, she would've started running. She felt like she had been infused with energy, with electricity. Ang didn't pick up the first time and she swore at his voicemail, then called him again. He picked up after the second ring.
“What's up, chica?” he sounded a little breathless.
The Kane Series Boxset Page 7
