by K. Webster
She is my focus.
My only thought.
When she lets out a tiny moan, I dart my tongue out and taste her. She’s sweeter than the orange juice we had this morning and I want to devour her. To stick my tongue deep into her mouth and run it along every surface just to know her from the inside out. I want to tangle my fingers in her golden locks and hold on to her indefinitely.
But what if I pull to hard?
Would her hair be torn from her scalp?
Would it bleed all over my white carpet?
Stay in the moment, War.
Kiss her. Kiss her. Kiss her.
I try to drive away the maddening thoughts that are now popping around me like gunshots on a battlefield but it’s too much. The moment one of her palms touches my cheek, I jerk away from her. My heart is thundering in my chest, my cock is proud and at attention behind my jeans, but my brain is on overdrive.
Twenty billion oral microbes.
Seven hundred or more possible strains of bacteria.
Thirty-four to seventy-two different varieties in each person.
Hers mixing with mine.
The combinations are endless.
Streptococcus mutans. Porphyromonas gingivalis.
Staphylococcus epidermidis, Streptococcus salivarius, and Lactobacillus sp.
Crawling and crawling and crawling all over the inside of her mouth—the same mouth I’d fantasized about tonguing every crevice.
“War,” she says in a firm tone that snaps me from my thoughts. “Calm down. Brush your teeth. Shower. Do whatever it is you do and then let’s finish our chess game.”
My eyes find her concerned ones and I relax, even if only marginally. Focus on something else. Not her mouth. Anything.
“Uh,” I grunt and run my fingers through my hair. I tug at it but don’t let go. “Why won’t you move your queen, Bay? It’s the only move.” Chess has always been a good focal point when my brain threatens to explode. I can focus on the strategies and become obsessed with moves, not germs and gore.
She starts toward the door but gives me a tender smile. “Because the queen always protects the king.” And then she whispers the last part. “Even from himself.”
Her strategy makes no sense to me…
And yet, a sense of calm washes over me as she leaves the room.
Turns out, I don’t need the shower after all.
Just a little mouthwash and a lot of chess will bring balance back to my world.
I think I just semi-averted a meltdown—a first in my book.
And that was solely because of her.
Baylee.
“THIS,” HE GRINNED and handed me a dainty tennis bracelet, “is for you.”
A couple of girls nearby giggled—the excited type of giggle—at Brandon’s romantic notion. We’d been going out since last year, when we were juniors, and were very much in love.
“It’s so pretty. I love pink,” I gushed and batted my lashes at him as he latched it around my wrist. “Thank you, Brandon.”
“Our one year anniversary is important.”
My cheeks reddened and I glanced around. No teachers were around so I slid my fingers around his neck and drew him forward. Our mouths met and he kissed me sweetly.
“God, Baylee,” he groaned after our kiss. “You make it really hard to function at school.”
He dragged his backpack into his lap and flashed me a shy smile. Today, he was especially cute because his normally perfectly spiked hair had become messy from the rain we ran through this morning to get from the bus to the school. I liked when he wasn’t all perfect and put together.
“I wish we could spend more time together outside of school. You know how crazy my dad is though. He’d be happier if I didn’t date until I was thirty!”
We both laughed and he leaned in again for another kiss. Rain drops began pelting us and the giggling girls from earlier were now screeching. We were left all alone in the courtyard.
Brandon seemed to sense this and our kiss became deeper. His backpack fell to the grass and he pulled me into his lap so I was straddling him. It was cold and we were getting soaked but I couldn’t get enough of him. I grinded against his erection and he moaned into my mouth.
I had been thinking about sex a lot lately. If Brandon and I could ever get together alone, I’d probably let him have sex with me. I loved him and he loved me. It seemed right.
“Touch me,” I murmured against his mouth.
Both of his palms found my breasts through my hoodie and he squeezed. It sent a thrill through my body and I continued grinding against him in order to find relief.
“I want to have sex with you,” I blurted out and stared into his blazing, hungry eyes.
“We will one day, babe. I promise,” he assured me and then laughed. “But not here on school grounds. I’m working on a baseball scholarship…not expulsion.”
I giggled and kissed him again.
“If I got expelled for having sex at school, my dad would kill me. We better save it for another time.”
His eyes danced with humor as he swiped a soaked tendril of hair out of my eyes. “I’d never let him kill you. I would steal you away and keep you safe. You’re my girl, Baylee Marie. I’m going to make you my wife one day.”
Gah, if only those girls could hear my boyfriend now.
I beamed at him. “I love you.”
“I love you too, babe.”
We kissed until a teacher snapped at us.
Getting detention with my boyfriend was worth kissing him in the rain.
After all, it gave us more time together. Even if we couldn’t talk or touch, we were there. Together.
A loud ringing jolts me awake from my dream. The sun has long since risen and I’m curled up on the sofa, a blanket covering me. I’d fallen asleep on the couch last night after too many hours on my laptop. War, of course, couldn’t put me to bed but he at least tried to make me more comfortable. I wonder why he didn’t just wake me up. A smile plays at my lips when I think about how we’d shamelessly flirted over dinner.
“I’m not that terrible of a kisser, you know,” I teased as I took a bite of my spaghetti. “You didn’t have to pretend you were having a mental breakdown.”
He smirked and raised an eyebrow. “Maybe it wasn’t your technique. Maybe it was your breath. I can practically smell your garlic breath from here.”
“Hey!” I scoffed and tossed my napkin his way. “I’m a great kisser and I taste like heaven.”
His eyes dropped to my mouth and he grew serious. “That you do, Bay. That you do.”
My cheeks burned at his comment and I looked past him toward the setting sun.
“You look beautiful tonight. More so than usual,” he told me softly.
A smile played at my lips as our eyes met. “I’m wearing a boring white sweater and jeans. Hardly beautiful.”
“Women who taste like heaven are usually angels,” he told me thoughtfully. “And you, dressed in white, are every bit heaven sent.”
His words caused me to melt.
“I can be naughty,” I assured him with a wicked grin.
He rolled his eyes. “If your naughty skills are anything like your chess skills, you’re still ninety-nine point nine percent angel. A sucky chess playing angel.”
“You’re an asshole,” I groaned but couldn’t help but smile.
I liked that he thought I was beautiful.
He watched me like I was the sun in his sky.
I seemed to put him under a spell and to be honest, I loved it.
A sound from War’s phone stopped our flirting and he dragged it from his pocket. His smile fell and he started typing away, almost angrily.
“What is it?” I questioned, my brows furrowed in concern.
He lifted his gaze to mine and by the way he clenched his jaw, I knew he was holding something back from me.
“Tell me,” I muttered.
With a frown, he leaned back and looked at his screen. “Detective Star
k.”
I blinked several times at him in confusion. “Who?”
“Rita Stark. Oakland PD. I’ve been,” he said and scrubbed his face with his palm, “in contact with her about your case. Or lack thereof more accurately.”
My heart rate quickened. “What do you mean? Why aren’t you telling me everything, War?”
“I wanted to have more information before I told you. And now I do.”
I gaped at him like he was a moron for stopping. He quickly continued.
“A couple of weeks back, I contacted her and asked her why someone wouldn’t report their child missing.”
“And?”
“She thought I was Brandon.”
I froze at his mention of my boyfriend. With War it was easy to suspend reality and play house in his castle on the ocean. But times like these, when my past collided with the present, I had a hard time merging the two worlds.
“He’s okay?”
War nodded and revealed what he knew. About how Brandon had come to see her. Nobody believed him. My parents had withdrawn me from school. How Stark thought it was all some elaborate story from a sad boy who hated the fact his girlfriend was being homeschooled.
“So why didn’t you tell me all of that, War? What the hell is going on?” My voice had risen several octaves and I stood from the table.
He shrugged and let out a huff. “Because it wouldn’t do anything, Baylee. We knew something was fishy. Now, though, things have gone from fishy to unbelievable.”
“What happened?”
“Stark replied. Said Brandon’s parents filed a missing person report on their son. He just vanished. Stark is fairly certain he’s gone off the grid to look for you. She doesn’t think he was taken or anything. But she’s asked about my identity. And blatantly asked if I had you in my possession.”
My flesh grew cold on my cheeks and my jaw hung slightly open. “What did you say?”
“I told her Gabe’s name. I said she needed to open an investigation in regards to him and some illegal activities he’d been involved in,” he said and turned his phone to me. “I told her to open her eyes and look into sex trafficking rings in California. Now she seems to be concerned about your whereabouts.”
I took the phone from him and read all of their emails.
“Do you think she’ll talk to Dad and Mom? I just can’t believe they’d go on with life as if I never existed.” Hot tears formed in my eyes and spilled over.
His gaze fell to my wet cheeks and he frowned. “I don’t know. Obviously she was being vague to me in her messages and is probably doing everything in her power to find out who’s sending those messages to her. Of course it’ll never lead back here. You’re safe with me.”
“How can we find out what she does? She’s not going to just come out and tell you her plan, who she’s going to question, or anything. I feel so helpless, War!”
He reached for me, briefly, but jerked his hand back as if he remembered he wasn’t capable of comforting me. “You’re not helpless. You have me and I am quite resourceful. Your parents are spending the money I’m sending. Every dime is being withdrawn. I’ve been researching every lead to find out what’s going on. We’ll figure it out, beautiful. Just like I promised.”
My anxiety lessened at his words. “And then what? After we figure it all out? After we discover my parents don’t give a shit about me. Huh?”
His eyes meet mine and he pins me with a serious stare. “I’ll take care of you no matter what because I do give a shit about you. You’re mine, Bay.”
I’d spent the rest of the night on the computer next to War on the couch. Both of us tapping and clicking our way through the web in search of answers and only coming up with more questions.
My thoughts return to our kiss from earlier in the day yesterday. It started out so carnal and needy. For a moment, he’d shoved away his demons to kiss me. While it only lasted seconds, it was beautiful and perfect.
But it’s my dream last night about Brandon that still hangs thick in the air. After I discovered he was missing and had been searching for me, I’d thought a lot about him. What happens if this detective finds Gabe and hauls him off to jail? Will Brandon come back home? Will I go back home? Do my parents even want me? Will things go back to normal?
Images of War sitting alone in this house with nobody to talk to. Nobody to eat with. Nobody to play chess with. It’s all too much. He’s grown on me too much to abandon him and run back home. Even if Gabe went to prison and all went back to normal, I don’t think I could ever leave War on his own again.
It would crush him.
The doorbell rings again and I leap from the couch ignoring my stiff muscles. The memory of our kiss and my lingering dream of Brandon are momentarily put on hold as I make my way to the door. Hobbling over to the door, I question who could be here at this ungodly hour. Maybe another delivery of shoes. The notion has me reaching for the doorknob with a smile on my face.
But as I reach for it, a deep voice startles me.
“Don’t answer it.”
I turn and regard a sleepy War with furrowed brows. “Why not? It’s probably just a delivery.”
He growls and storms over to me. “Because,” he hisses, “what if it’s him? Did you even look? I have the alarm on for a reason, Bay. To protect you. The deliverymen always leave the packages on my doorstep per my instructions. Whoever is here is not delivering anything to me.”
Fear of Gabe assaults me and my knees buckle.
I could have just opened the door to him. I’d allowed myself to grow comfortable in War’s home and forgotten what was truly at stake had that man found me again. He could have snatched me up and taken me to his stupid cabin before I even knew what hit me.
I’m frozen as memories assault me.
Frozen cucumbers.
Butt plugs.
His large fingers probing and stretching every hole in my body.
A shudder wracks through me. Mom would be screwed and I’d live the rest of my life getting tortured by that sadistic monster.
No thank you.
“I’m sorry,” I tell him with tears in my eyes. “I didn’t think.”
He relaxes and I can see that he itches to comfort me in some way. Problem is, with War, there is no way. Only words, no embraces. “It’s okay. Go get dressed. I’ll figure out who it is.”
Hurrying away from the door, I make my way into my room. I locate a pair of jeans and T-shirt and dress in record speed. By the time I finish, I can hear raised voices in the other room.
Oh, God.
He’s here.
Snatching up a tall, metal candleholder from the bedside, I raise it and creep out of the room prepared to crack it over his head. War comes into view first, his features contorted into an angry scowl. I hold a finger to my lips to warn him. His face pales and he raises a hand.
“Bay, no!”
Charging from around the corner, I ready myself to kill Gabe. I’m furious for the horrors he put me through and am eager to break his skull. Then, this can all be over. I’m about to swing the candlestick when War snatches it from my grip and rips it away from me.
The man in the foyer is not Gabe.
He turns to regard me with a frown and I can see that this man is older and has greying hair mixed in with his dark hair. The man is almost an exact image of War.
“Baylee, this is my dad, Loveland McPherson.” War’s jaw is clenched in frustration as he sets the candlestick down on the entryway table.
I blink at the older man several times before responding. “I’m Baylee Winston, Mr. McPherson.”
My words seem to drag the man out of his stupor and he reaches a hand out for me. “Call me Land. And I must say, I’ve never known War to have anyone over before. Ever. Are you two…” he trails off as if searching for the right words, “together?”
Glancing at War, I plead with my eyes for him to handle the explanation.
He nods and clears his throat. “Dad, Baylee is my, uh, girl
friend.”
Land frowns at me before he flicks his gaze over to War. “And, son, how old is your girlfriend?”
FUCK.
I didn’t expect Dad to show up for one of his random visits. I mean, I know it had been awhile since he’d last visited, so I knew I was due for another. But the timing is horrible. He won’t understand about Baylee.
Her bottom lip trembles and I can almost feel her heartbeat in my ears. Thump, thump, thumping. I crave to hold her body that still quivers from the fear of thinking Gabe was here. The man is a fucking monster. I’m not sure I even want to know what all he’s done to her. It might make me crazier than I already am. Or homicidal.
“She’s seventeen.”
I wince and then count the seconds until he explodes. With Dad, it’s coming.
One, two, three, four…
“ARE YOU KIDDING ME RIGHT NOW, WARREN THOMAS MCPHERSON?”
In a natural move, I stand between her and him. My dad wouldn’t hurt her. Ever. But I still don’t like him being near her while he’s pissed. She’s had enough bullshit lately to have to deal with my dad’s tantrum too.
“Dad, listen—”
“No! You listen to me, son! This is un—”
“I’m here on my own free will!” Baylee shouts over us. “Land, I’m okay. I promise. And we haven’t had sex, if that’s what you’re worrying about. I’m here to keep War company.”
Dad’s furious body that ripples with rage relaxes. “What about your parents? Do they know you’re here?”
She lifts her chin bravely. “I’ll be eighteen soon and I have been in contact with my dad. He knows I’m with your son. I promise, I’m not War’s prisoner. He’s helping me, too.”
Dad flits his gaze from her to me. “How much did you pay her?”
“Can we talk about this later?” I question through gritted teeth.
He nods and I heave out a breath of relieved air. Turning around to face Baylee, I give her a smile. “Why don’t you go and shower. I’ll make you some breakfast.”
She seems hesitant to leave but finally turns and bounces off toward her room. I stare at her perfect ass until she disappears around the corner.
