by Maisey Yates
“Fine,” she said, wiggling a little bit now. “You can let go of me now.”
He did, stepping back and searching for a towel. When he looked back at the shower, she was gone, disappeared around the corner again. “I have your towel,” he said. “Putting it on the hook right here and I’m turning around.”
“You could leave the room.”
“Fine. I’ll do that,” he growled, walking back into the bedroom and trying not to think about the wet spots on his shirt, which represented the places her body had made contact with him.
Her naked body.
He fought the surge of heat that shot through him.
He had no right to be lusting after her like this. Not now. Not when he’d walked in on her like that without an announcement.
Of course, she’d been the one in his shower. His shower, when there was one right near her bedroom that she could have used. And all her girlie crap was spread out all over his counter. As though she had every right to come in and take over his space, her things landing everywhere like a cloud of frilly locusts.
That was her fault.
She appeared a moment later, looking freshly scrubbed and wary, wearing a pair of gray sweatpants and a long-sleeved pink top, her hair wet and hanging loose.
“Didn’t anyone ever tell you knocking is polite?”
“You were in my shower, baby. I didn’t expect to find you there.”
“The music and running water weren’t a clue?”
“They were a trail of bread crumbs I felt obliged to follow. I honestly didn’t expect to find you naked and dripping wet in my shower when you have your own.”
“Well, you told me to make myself at home.”
“So you decided that meant going into my bedroom?”
He’d never had a woman in his personal space before. Ever. He’d had girlfriends, yes. But he spent the night at their places typically. Or he took them out and they spent the night in hotels. He wasn’t a hugger. He didn’t talk about his feelings. He didn’t let women leave their trappings all over his room.
There was room for one toothbrush in his bathroom, and that was his.
“Well, yeah. You railroaded me into moving in with you. You’re a Treffen, therefore my trust in you is...eh. And so I decided to snoop around in your stuff. Then I saw your shower.”
“You went through my things.”
“Yes. And I’m not going to apologize. Anyway, no whips, chains or invoices for sexual favors. On that score you check out.”
“Disappointed?”
“About?”
He crossed his arms. “The lack of whips and chains. You like that sort of thing.”
She arched a brow. “You got your rocks off that night, too, so don’t go putting it on me.”
“You were out of line going through my things.”
“Are you really all up on my butt for being intrusive?”
“Excuse me?”
“Are you really getting on my case for being intrusive?” she repeated, her hands on her hips. “Because the last I checked, you got me fired from my job. You effectively got me evicted from my apartment. You forced me to move here by default and then you said make yourself at home. And so I have. And now you’re mad at me? You’ve interfered in every corner of my life and you’re pissed because I used your shower?”
“And left your girl crap all over everything.”
“My girl crap? What are you, fourteen?”
“No, but I don’t share my space.”
“Yeah, well, news flash, Austin. I haven’t done anything but share space my entire life. I’ve had to make sure my schedule was conducive to taking care of my younger brother. I had to make sure my emotions never made a blip on the radar, because I had to keep things smooth and stable for Trey. Then I moved to New York and moved in with a roommate who had her name on the lease and who I had to tread softly with so that I wouldn’t find myself out on my ass. Then guess what? Because of you I did find myself out on my ass. And now? Now I’m sick of treading lightly. You said make myself at home, I’m going to make myself at home. I’m not here because I want to be, buddy. I’m here because you stuck your all-powerful Treffen hand in my life and screwed with things.”
“So that means my punishment is...leg wax on my bathroom counter and music that... Was it talking about...?”
“Yes,” she said, her cheeks turning pink. “Yes, it was. I like that song. Sorry if it bothered you. Or maybe I’m not sorry if it bothered you. Grow up.”
“Did you just tell me to grow up?”
“Yeah. I did. Like you can’t handle song lyrics about sex. Again I ask—are you fourteen?”
“It didn’t bother me.”
“Well, then why are you complaining?”
“You have a bathroom. You could use that one.”
She arched a brow. “It doesn’t have three showerheads in the shower.”
“So? You don’t need three showerheads,” he said.
“Says the man who has three showerheads,” she said, putting her hands on her hips. “Personally, I value the ability to cleanse myself with the ‘rainforest mist’ setting on. It makes this whole ordeal feel less traumatic.”
“I think you’re milking it,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning back against the wall.
“Do you?” she asked.
“Yes. I do.”
“I don’t know if you know my pain and suffering. I was fired and thrown out of my house on the same day.”
“All right. If you want to use my bathroom, that’s up to you, but I’m not knocking on my own bedroom door and I will use my bathroom when I feel like it. If you’re so married to the showerheads, that’s your business, but you may end up with a guest.”
Her eyes widened. “I thought I told you I wasn’t sleeping with you.”
“And I thought I told you not to trust me.” The air thickened between them, her lips parting, her eyes darkening. “And you definitely shouldn’t look at me like that,” he said.
“Like what?”
“Like you’re considering letting the horse out of the barn again.”
She blinked. “I’m not. I just wanted your shower, not your body. Calm the hell down.”
“Have you eaten?” he asked, deciding it was best to change the subject. And to take the conversation into neutral territory. And to move them to neutral territory. Territory that didn’t have a bed with a very useful-looking headboard...
“No,” she said. “I was going to order something.”
“Anything in particular?”
“I was sort of craving Thai.”
“I’m very good at ordering takeout,” he said. “Cooking, not so much.”
“I can cook,” she said, following his lead and leaving the bedroom, heading down the hall a couple of paces behind him. “Really gourmet stuff. Ramen noodles, with some vegetables for added nutrition. Mac and cheese. In the blue box. I don’t screw around. Also, Beanie Weenies. A can of pork ’n’ beans and some cut-up hot dogs. My skills cannot be beat.”
“I don’t think I’ve ever had any of that.”
“Not even in college?”
He tossed a look over his shoulder. “No. I had a meal plan.”
“Oh, yes, of course. How could I forget? You’re all steeped in privilege. Which I guess I should remember since I just used your shower. Three showerheads.” She held up a matching number of fingers. “Three.”
He shrugged. “Yes. Yes, I’m privileged. Lucky, lucky me. My dad is a pimp.” He headed down the stairs and he could hear her behind him.
“There are different kinds of privilege. I mean, sure, that’s a sucky reality you have to face. But I grew up in terrible circumstances and I didn’t get to eat good food. So you know...”
“Yes. Life was easy for me then. I won’t lie to you and pretend I had any great struggle. But looking back and realizing just how little I saw outside of my bubble? That’s hard. I’m not stupid. More than that, in my line of work, I’m trai
ned to read people. I have to know how to read between the lines, how to reinterpret what they’re saying. I have to know how to manipulate. But even with that, my world was so insulated, so damned perfect, that I just couldn’t imagine the kind of thing my father was doing. I couldn’t have imagined Sarah’s pain. I’ve seen more since then. I know more about human nature. About how truly horrible life can be. I look back... I hate that idiot that couldn’t see past the glitter all around him. Who thought bad things happened to other people. To other classes of people.”
“And since then you’ve learned...?”
“Life is shit for everyone. It’s just that for some people it’s shit with three showerheads. Pad Thai sound good to you?”
“Pad See Ew.”
“I’ll get both. Chicken or tofu?”
“How about one of each. I’m living it up today and you, I assume, are buying.”
“Sure. Why not. You can be on the Austin Treffen meal plan while you’re here,” he said, his tone dry.
Katy watched Austin make his way over to the kitchen area. He pulled a menu out of the top drawer and picked up his cell phone.
She still felt shaky from their encounter upstairs. The way his arms had locked tight around her. The way it had felt to be up against him like that. He was all strength and heat. Strength and muscles and heat. And muscles. Oh...the muscles.
“Oh, my gosh,” she said, her tone overdramatic. “Now I feel steeped in privilege.”
“You are,” he said. “Look around you. Hello?”
He started to give the order and she just watched him. Watched the way his hand held the phone, watched the way he stood, one hand in his pocket, his watch visible. There was something about the way a watch looked on him.
There was something about him.
Maybe it was just because he was her first lover. Her only lover.
Except that wasn’t it because she’d felt that way about him before they’d slept together. The fascination, the strange connection, had been there from the moment she’d first seen him. It was strange she felt that way toward him.
This man who hadn’t been able to even imagine the kind of poverty she’d grown up in. Yet they did connect. Somewhere, down deep. Probably in their pain.
And there was a physical connection. No point in denying that. She could feel it now, with him way over there. Just looking at him made her hot inside. Made her feel like parts of her were too close to a fire.
It was a distraction she really didn’t need. She had to remember that she was here to bring down Treffen, to get justice for Sarah. That was why she’d gone through his things earlier—thoroughly. If there was anything he was holding back, she wanted to know.
“Ordered,” he said, hanging up. “Now we wait.”
He shoved both hands in his pockets and stood there, looking like he’d come straight from a designer catalog. There to model sexy watches and perfectly fitted pants.
He made her feel like a scrub. In her sweatpants, with her hair hanging limp...
Of course, he’d just seen her naked, so it was an improvement on that.
She tried to swallow and moisten her suddenly dry throat.
“I do have something to ask you,” he said, his voice taking on that hard edge that said he wasn’t going to be doing any asking.
He was about to command her to do something.
And that scared her. Because her entire body tightened in anticipation of it. With the desire to do as she was told.
Only for him. Never for anyone else. In the rest of her life, she was in charge. She kept things moving. She kept things together. She made the rules.
But not with him. And it was as natural as breathing.
He spoke with that hint of authority and everything in her went to jelly. Only sometimes, though. Only when she had sex on the brain.
Other times, his orders ticked her off just as much as anyone’s.
It was weird. But then, the whole thing was weird. Getting off on any of it was weird.
“What?” she asked, trying to sound defiant, and not melty.
“How many parties did my father have coming up?”
“Oh, well, he’s got the more exclusive Christmas Eve party, and then he’s got the New Year’s party....”
“And I need to attend both. Considering we’re reconciling and all.”
“And?”
“And I’ve been thinking. Since you’re going to look like my lover anyway, we might as well go ahead and play it up. It was benefiting you to be there as an event coordinator. Think how much more we can find out if you’re there as my mistress.”
“Your mistress? What is this, some bad black-and-white film?”
“Girlfriend. Lover. Whatever you prefer.”
“Love slave?”
“All things considered, anything that speaks of sexual slavery might not be the best label to put on it.”
She blinked, her eyes stinging as she thought of Sarah, of those other women, subjected to the orders of men. Her cheeks burned as she thought of what it had meant to obey his orders.
She didn’t know her own body right now. Not at all. There were too many conflicting emotions in it. Too many contrary desires.
She wanted to step out of it. Leave all that stupid lust, the regret, the pain, the desire behind. She wanted to step out of her skin before all of those feelings sank down beneath the surface and wrapped around her bones.
Being Katy was too hard. Had been for a long time. But right now the years had rolled together, collected into a heavy weight that rested on her, that made it difficult to breathe. Right now she felt desperate to escape.
And she knew only one way to do that.
In Austin’s arms, she’d felt free. Taking orders from him, she’d somehow felt liberated.
No. You can’t go there. Not again. How can you even be tempted? How could you possibly want that?
“You want me to play the part of dream date?” she asked, her tone tart.
“Sure. I’ll even by you a corsage if you like.”
“I do like. I didn’t get to go to prom, you know?”
“No?”
She shook her head. “Nope. I was doing double shifts at the diner. What about you?” If she could keep talking, mask the tension, mask the weight of what they were dealing with, maybe she could survive.
“Gave a corsage. Lost my virginity. Prom was memorable.”
“Senior prom?” she asked, her brows arching upward.
“Yep.”
“Bit of a late bloomer.”
“Says the woman who lost her virginity less than a week ago.”
Heat stung her cheeks. “We’re not talking about me. Who was your girlfriend?”
“She was more experienced than I was. We got a hotel room. You know, normal for that sort of thing. It’s what most people do, isn’t it?”
“I think missing prom may be why I was still a virgin,” she said. “I missed that normal, crucial step.”
“There you go. That explains it.”
“This is painfully awkward,” she said.
“What is?”
“Trying to talk to you like we’re normal people who just met. Rather than people who just met, got naked and then found out they shared a common tragedy.”
“It’s not the easiest thing I’ve ever done,” he said. “I’ll grant you that.”
“Why bother? Maybe we should just eat our noodles in silence.”
“We could do that. But then what will we do when we have our dates? We do have to look comfortable with each other.”
“I suppose so.”
“There’s no ‘suppose’ about it.”
“I thought Jason’s magical arrogance would put an invisibility cloak over my true motives?”
“In many ways, it will. But it would be nice if we looked somewhat authentic, don’t you think?”
“I don’t know. So many couples have nothing in common and don’t know what to say to each other anymore.”
�
��Not new couples,” he said.
“No? Enlighten me. Obviously I’ve never been the other half of a couple.”
“Never?”
“I was a virgin, dumb-ass.”
“That doesn’t mean you never dated.”
She let out a long sigh. “I dated. But no guy ever lasted longer than two dates. And I didn’t date often. I think the reasons why are fairly obvious.”
“When did you move out?”
“I was eighteen. I took Trey with me. My brother, Trey.”
“I remember Sarah talking about you both.”
“Anyway,” she said, skimming over the mention of her sister, “I didn’t date because it was too much work. There was already too much to handle. I didn’t need another...thing to contend with. In my experience, men were just another hassle and I didn’t have the energy for it.”
“Can I ask what made you change your mind that night?” he asked.
“Okay, I’ll be honest. Being busy wasn’t the only thing it was.... I knew what I wanted, Austin. I knew I wanted a guy to hold me down and tell me what to do, to take my control away, take my decisions away, and...that’s a scary thing to want. A scary thing to admit you want. Then I met you and for some reason I trusted you wouldn’t abuse that power. And I could also see that you wanted it. On top of that, I didn’t see you as a hassle because I saw you as sex. And it turns out, I could not have been more wrong.”
“Funny how things work out.”
“Mmm.”
“Except you’re right about something,” he said.
“About what you wanted?” she asked, heat settling low in her stomach now.
He looked down. “Yes.”
“There’s a little bit of magic to how all of that lines up, isn’t there?”
“I suppose there is. Though...black magic.”
She nodded, feeling compelled to lean into him. To touch him. But she didn’t.
“Anyway,” he continued, “we will have to be more than a distant, brittle old couple because we are, theoretically, in the beginning stages of an affair. You’re the first woman who has ever spent the night in my house, much less lived in it.”
“Am I really?”
“I told you, I don’t share space. But you know that must mean there’s something very special about you.”
“Maybe I’m double-jointed in interesting ways.”
