by Abby Wood
"Addy, get in the car," Nate said.
"Hey, Rafferty." Mr. Cartmen let her go and held out his arms in a sign of no foul. "Nice night."
"You ever touch her again, you'll fucking die." Nate stepped out of the car, escorted her to the passenger side, opened the door, and she climbed inside.
Safe inside the car, Addison watched Nate walk around to the driver's side, ignoring Mr. Cartmen, and climb in. She hurried and latched the seatbelt, afraid of making him even more upset.
His whole body screamed that he wasn't lying. He'd kill Mr. Cartmen and although, she didn't enjoy Nate ordering her to get in the car with him, she didn't want anyone's murder on her shoulders.
Nate hit the accelerator. "What the hell were you thinking?"
"I only wanted to go to the parking garage," she whispered. "I wasn't with Mr. Cartmen."
"He'd fuck you and leave you before you could get a dime out of his pocket." He shifted into a higher gear. "Do you think you're any different to him than the whores he hangs around?"
"Nate, I wasn't with him." She pressed her hands into her thighs. "He's a client, and he saw me walking. I stopped, and he asked me out. I told him no."
"I know what you were doing." He braked on the turn into the parking garage. "I've seen you walking in front of the building the last few nights. I saw Cartmen approach you, and I know he's not the one you were hoping would stop you."
Her mouth came open and she stared at the dash. He couldn't possibly know. Sure, he could guess, but he had no idea of her schedule or where her clients dropped her off.
He kept turning the car around in the garage, working his way up to the third level. At her parking spot, he slammed on the brakes and cut the engine. "I want to know why you've been going out of your way to walk past my building, looking up at the windows for the last three nights. What were you looking for, Addy, and so help me God, if you don't tell me what I want to hear, the next time someone like Cartmen comes around, I won't be there to save your ass."
She looked at him, and then she jerked off her seatbelt and got out of the car. Furious with herself for even thinking he cared, she marched to the Porsche. At the door, she dug through her purse, cursing under her breath at not having her keys out and ready.
When her fingers clutched her remote, two hands whirled her around and backed her against the vehicle. On heels, bent backward, all she could do is hold on to Nate's coat to keep from falling. "What are you doing? Let go of me!"
"Answer me," he said.
In her personal space, his face hovering over hers, she stared into eyes that searched hers. Aware of the anger, the position he'd put her in, and finally being able to see with her own eyes he was fine, she decided to tell him the truth.
"You," she whispered. "I tried. I've thought of every excuse why I should stay away, and I still walked by your office in hopes you'd be walking out and I'd see you. I needed a glimpse, that's all, to see if you're all right. And, you are. I can see that myself. That's all I needed."
"Fuck, Addy," he murmured, the tension eased from his face right before he captured her mouth.
Nothing about his kiss was gentle. His lips bruised hers as he hungrily tasted her with his tongue. Her body slid down on the car, and he shoved his thigh between her legs, trapping her, too keep her standing while he continued taking everything he could. And she let him.
No, she needed him.
His desperation and anger, directed at her, filled her in a way she'd never expected. She swiped her tongue along his and pulled back, sucking his bottom lip, and then diving back in. Her breath came fast, and she clutched at him, fearful he'd stop. Afraid he'd walk away from her and she'd lose in the end.
"Addy," he mumbled against her lips.
"No, please." She plastered herself against his body. "Don't go."
She trembled, the heat that had her climbing his body moments ago vanished to cold, dark, fear she couldn't name. Left hollow, she held on to him with all the strength she had, which wasn't much considering he'd taken her higher in one kiss than any other man.
"Sh." He smoothed the hair away from her face. "Doll, look at me."
She raised her gaze. He looked back at her intently, rubbing his lips together. An urge to cry came over her, and she could no more hold her emotions inside than explain what was happening to her.
"Give me your keys," he whispered, kissing her forehead. "I'm taking you home with me."
A sob trickled out of her mouth, and she searched for her keys and found them on the ground. Disoriented and unable to comprehend what was happening, she held on to the hand he offered. He led her to the car, and she reluctantly let go. Unwilling to face going home alone without him, she concentrated on the moment. He was keeping her.
Chapter Eight
Addison's control slipped.
Three blocks from Nate's house, Addison closed herself off from him. Nate squeezed her hand. All the way home, he refused to let go.
In the parking garage, he'd felt the trembles wracking her body, the desperation in her kiss, the haze that'd come over her when he pinned her against the car. He shifted, without letting go of her, because he had a feeling if he dropped her hand, he'd lose her for good.
Surprised to find his own desire looking back at him gave him a heady experience. He'd always held himself back. Every woman, every date, every one night stand, he went through the motions, hiding himself from them. Only going out with them for one reason and that was to ease the pressure.
Addison's reaction was unbridled and dangerous.
"Addy," he said.
She yanked her hand, but he held on tight. "What?"
"Stay with me…we're almost there." He used the heel of his hand to shift down as he approached his driveway.
All she had to do was wait until he could get his hands on her again. He'd explain what happened to her. Not once had he had a woman react to him in the way he needed, to that way of perfection that he craved. She matched him perfectly, but he also knew he wasn't ready to have the truth thrown at her.
He'd scare her. She wasn't ready. Nor was she going to understand. Hell, he didn't understand why he needed to be the way he was on most days. Professor Frank tried to explain to him what drove his way of thinking, his body's desire, his need to own, hurt, and possess. Instead of tapping the demons inside of him, Professor Frank helped him find other outlets while retaining his need.
He'd gone clean for a time, throwing himself into a business that grew until it was bigger than most anything in the area. Yet, his success wasn't enough. It was never enough.
He no longer received the satisfaction over adding another contract, growing a bigger client list, or buying up real estate. Sure, the progress he made appeased him momentarily, but underneath the surface, he hungered for more.
Always hungry.
Going to the gym the other night and stepping into the ring was throwing fire on a man like him. He reached up, pushed the remote garage door opener, and drove at a crawl into the darkened garage. He had to check himself before he scared Addison more or worse, hurt her.
He shut off the engine and pressed into the seat. Addison sat silently beside him. He rolled his head along the headrest and looked at her. Her fear pleased him.
"I'm going to take you inside, and I want you to stay there. I don't want you to leave or walk away, until I'm done talking." He swallowed over the tightening of his chest. "Can you do that for me, doll?"
"I don't know," she said.
"You have my word. Nothing will happen between us that you don't want to happen." He lifted her hand, which he still held, to his lips. "Can you trust me?"
She shook her head, and he grinned. Her honesty was welcome.
"Then, I'll show you that you can trust me. Will you be okay with me making you feel good? To repeat the way you'd opened yourself up in the parking garage?" he said.
"I'm scared," she whispered.
He lifted his chin. "I know that too. I'll make it okay for you, I wil
l."
"How?" She lowered her gaze to their linked hands. "I feel like I'm going to die—she wrinkled her nose—that's not true, but back there…at the garage, I couldn't even breath or think. I don't want to go through that again. I can't do it. It's not who I am. I can't be the kind of person you want, who acts out of control. I-I there's a reason I can't be with you, and I'm sorry but there's no compromises."
He'd waited, letting her have her say. Having patience with her as she tried to talk herself out of getting out of the door practically killed him, because he could see the affect her confession had on her.
She trembled, not from a deep new desire leaving her weary yet excited. She was flat out scared. He dropped her hand.
She pulled her arm to her waist as if keeping her distance would protect her, and curled into herself. He looked away. He'd seen enough.
"Get out of the car, Addy." He opened his door and climbed out.
When she failed to join him, he marched to the other side of the car, swung the door open, unlatched her seat belt, and stood back. "Out."
He gave her no room to argue or protest. If she wanted to see what they could have together, if she wanted to see what he gave her a hint of each time he was with her and what she craved, yet confused her, he'd show her.
She climbed out and stood beside him. "Nate? I can't—"
"You can." He pivoted and led the way to the back door, expecting her to follow.
She proved him right, when she ducked under his arm and entered the kitchen ahead of him. He flipped on the light, and waited while she studied the room, getting her bearings.
Until bringing her inside his home, he never realized how little time he spent at the house. He slept here, but he ate at the office or with clients, and hit the gym when he had some free time. The monstrosity was only a place to lay his head.
This area and his belongings meant nothing to him. Most days he wanted to walk away and go back to the streets to where he was accepted. Two years ago, he'd tried to go cold turkey and give it all up. He handed the keys to his brother and walked away from it all. He'd disappeared for three days, not knowing where he went or where he stopped. He drank to excess and woke up in a twelve dollar a night hotel room, reeking of bourbon and sporting bruises all over his knuckles.
Addison gave him a reason not to run. She offered herself to him, and he wouldn't abuse her trust. Somehow, someway, he'd figure out a way to make her understand what kind of person he was, and hope that he was right about her.
If he were wrong about her feeding off his need for power, it'd destroy her. In the end, if she refused to learn how they could benefit from each other, his choice could kill him.
He'd given up on finding someone to accept him. To him, Addison was his last chance to believe he could form a relationship with anyone.
"Come with me." He walked through the kitchen and out into the hallway.
At the other end of the house, he opened his office. Keeping the lights off, he sat down on the leather couch below the windows. With a bit of light from the moon streaming into the room, he'd be able to see her face, but give her the added security to hide in the darkness if she wanted.
The darkness saved him for years.
He snagged her hand and pulled her down on his lap. She stiffened, and he tightened his hold. "Relax. You're going to listen to what I have to say. After I'm done, I'll answer all your questions."
"Easy for you to say," she mumbled. "You're the one bossing me around."
For the first time all week, he laughed. The tension left him, and the hilarity he found in the situation seemed to anger Addison and put her on firmer ground. He clamped his hand on her hip and kept her from getting up.
"You have no idea." He pulled her head toward him with his other hand, and pressed his lips against her hair. "No fucking clue."
"Then tell me," she whispered. "I won't tell anyone."
"No one would believe you anyway." He sighed heavily. "Or, they would, but it doesn't matter. It's who I am, and if someone wants to use it against me, more power to them. They won't succeed."
She shivered. He leaned his chin to the top of her head, which he'd tucked against his neck. He liked this position.
"I still won't tell." She planted her hand against his chest. "I'm not the kind of person who shares with others, so there's no reason to gossip about you."
"That's good," he murmured.
Several minutes passed. He found he wasn't in such a hurry to provide background as much as he wanted to hold her. Because he couldn't see her face, couldn't read the way she'd fed off his emotions, he wanted to enjoy the calm before he gave her the truth.
But, he had to tell her.
"Last week when I showed up at your house and you took care of my face, I'd come from boxing." He rubbed his cheek against her hair. "There's this place in St. John's, where I grew up, that caters to street kids and adults. There's always someone willing to step onto the mat and take punches. I went there."
Her head came up and she looked at him. "Did you lose?"
He stared into the room, not seeing anything specific. "No. I didn't lose."
She stiffened. "God, what did the other person look like?"
"Broken nose. He'll probably need his brow super glued together, and I'm guessing I fractured a couple of his ribs," he said. "That's what you need to know about me. I'm capable of hurting others and not feeling a bang of remorse. It's not that I'm unable to stop myself, I can. But, the need to hurt others is unstoppable. It never ends."
"You're warning me," she whispered.
He nodded without saying any more. The truth was right in front of her, she'd have to grasp what he was saying herself. Then he'd let her decide if she was willing to handle him. If she was strong enough to admit to herself that she needed him, and his ways.
Chapter Nine
The only thing keeping her from walking out of the room was Nate's hands on her body. Addison's heart raced, and she wondered if she pushed against him, he'd let her go. After hearing he enjoyed hurting others, she was afraid to try her luck.
Instead, she hid her reaction and played cool. "May I stand up?"
"Normally, I'd let you do anything when you ask me nicely, in that soft voice that pleases me, but right now I'd like you to stay on my lap and talk with me," he said. "I can tell you're worried, and there's no reason to be scared. We're sitting and talking, that's it."
"That's not what I thought we were going to do when you told me to come home with you." She folded her hands in her lap. "I thought this was about sex, and we've done that before and I handled that fine. I don't know what you're planning to do now, or why you had to tell me that you enjoy hurting people. You're starting to freak me out, and not in a good way. If you told me you like to box a few rounds every now and then, that's one thing, but you're talking about beating the shit out of someone because it's fun and—"
"Not fun. Necessary," he said.
She scoffed. "Sorry, but I don't understand where you're going with this conversation. Only murderers and…and serial killers enjoy hurting others."
"Undoubtedly." He nodded. "If you'll be quiet for a second, I'll try to explain."
She clamped her lips shut. Scared in case he confessed to murder and fascinated enough she shut up; she thought she knew everything about him. She was wrong.
Every television documentary done on him, she'd watched. Every news clip, she'd stopped what she was doing at the time and paid attention to every word. None of those things ever, not once, informed her he beat on people for pleasure.
"Have you ever heard of someone who enjoyed inflicting pain on others or someone who needed pain to feel complete?" he asked.
The room closed in on her. She pushed against him, forgetting there was a bigger threat of pissing him off. He refused to let her go.
"Please." She grabbed at his fingers, trying to bend them off her hip. "Let me up."
"No." He shifted his hands, one palmed her thigh, and the other presse
d against her back.
The more relaxed hold gave her a little breathing room, and she sucked in air as if she'd finally pushed her head above water. "I understand. You're into the rough play, tying women up, and spanking them. You could've said that without scaring me to death—she stared at the floor—I'm not into any kink, so you can stop talking me into participating."
She spoke the truth. Some of the women who worked for Carpool Dolls shared stories of what men would do to them when they had worked the street in the past. There were scars on their body from where the men abused them, all for the sole benefit of getting their rocks off. She rubbed her bare arms. No, thank you.
"First off, I would never hurt you for the simple fact of beating the crap out of you. I went to the ring, because I had no one to dominate in a sexual way…so, beating someone, getting my frustrations out, and expelling all the energy I have inside of me from not letting myself be who I am builds up and I can be dangerous. Rarely can I not check myself, but I won't lie. There have been times when my needs overwhelmed me and I lost control." He squeezed her leg, bringing her attention to him.
"You're telling me that if you can't dominate a woman in bed, you'll beat someone up." She gulped. "That's messed up, Nate."
"To understand how I turned out this way, you'll have to realize I grew up on the streets after my mom ran off with her latest boyfriend. When I was ten years old, I looked after my younger brother and myself. Donny is a year younger than I am. Yes, we were eating, sleeping, and surviving without a mom, a dad, a roof over our heads. I kept us out of child protective service and together. That was my main goal, even before surviving."
"I've seen the documentaries. You never mentioned a brother or your age before." She sucked her bottom lip in and clamped down.
"Ah, I see. You think you know me. No, I never mention anything private. Donny stays secret." He inhaled through his nose, and continued. "No one in my life, the life I let people see, know the whole truth. They see the romanticized story of a down and out teenager heading nowhere but the penitentiary, who was saved by a college professor, forever afterward destined to have his path paved in gold."
