by Matson, TC
“Is that what you wanted to talk about?” I bite out in anger.
“I was young and stupid. That look on your face has haunted me for years. I didn’t mean to hurt you, Cherry. I loved you so much.”
“Don’t you dare call me that.” I stand gathering my stuff desperate to get out of here.
“Paige—”
“I’m glad you’ve been haunted by it! Serves you right.” My heart is thundering in my ears. “You do not have the right to bring yourself back to apologize for your own guilt. I did nothing to deserve what you did to me. I’ll be damned if I’m going to sit here and hear how bad it hurt you, then or now. It was your screw up. It’s for you to live with, not me.”
He grabs my arm stopping me dead in my tracks. “Does he know?” he narrows his eyes.
“Know what?” I spout off.
“That he’ll never have your heart the way I have it. That no matter how badly we both try to stay away from each other, we hold each other’s hearts and one day we will work through my fuck up. Does he know that, Cherry?”
I can’t breathe I’m so irate. Thoughts stampede my mind. Dizziness threatens to take me down. “Correction, you held my heart. You do not now, and you haven’t for years. You’re the one who can’t stay away from me. I’ve been doing great without you. Do you think you scarred me enough to never give another man my heart? Are you that stuck up your own ass?” I jerk my arm from his. “You drown in your guilt for what you did, and for that matter, I hope it takes you the fuck down slowly. But don’t you dare think you can come tramping back into my life and try controlling it like you once did. I’m not a child anymore. I’m not naïve.”
“You are if you don’t think I still have your heart.”
“You have one thing of mine, and it’s not my heart. Fuck you,” I fire off and turn on my heel heading out the door, pissed I can’t get rid of him, pissed he will not leave me alone, pissed he has the audacity to come back and act like he gives a crap.
Chapter 13
Paige is fuming at something. How do I know? She’s trying to beat me into a pebble. Her strikes are hard, and her kicks are even harder. Her expression dons determination, and anger drips from her sweat. She hasn’t said many words and when she has, they’re short and snappy. Never a good sign. This is code for pissed off woman hear her roar. I’ve let her go as far as I’m willing to without investigating, but now it’s question time.
Swiftly, I drop her to the mat, straddling her and pressing my weight on her, holding her shoulders down.
“What the fuck?” she hisses trying to push my hands off.
“Talk,” I order, but instead she tries bucking me off. “Something is wrong, so talk.”
“Nothing’s wrong. Now get off of me.” She bucks again, but I add more weight and glare at her, quietly imploring her to talk.
She stops resisting and blows her bangs off her forehead. Her expression is restrained as she blinks back tears. Something deep in my chest twists at her pain.
“You’re so pissed you’re wanting to cry. So just talk.”
She squeezes her eyes shut forcing back the tears then drops her hands to her side. “Wesley came into work today.”
I’m going to end up ripping this guy’s head off. “Did he put his hands on you again?” I growl.
“No, but I told you he’d be back. Dammit, I told you!” she shouts.
“So what the hell happened that has you all pissy?”
“Nothing,” she lies so I press more weight on her. “Ok, ok! Geezz, fatso. Get off me.” I don’t. She has to talk first. She lets out a long sigh. “He wanted to talk about the night I caught him cheating. I didn’t. He’s just an ass,” she mumbles trying to wiggle out from under me.
He’s a fucking dumbass. I’m not good with relationships, but I’m quite sure you don’t come back and bring up bad times.
“Are you over him?” Where the hell did that come from?
Immediately she stops squirming underneath me, jolted with curiosity, and I’m relieved. The pressure of her brushing against my cock was starting to get me excited. What? I can’t help it. He has a mind of his own.
“I was over him the moment I saw it,” she admits.
I drop to my elbows, lowering my face to hers. Her pale greens brighten. “You sure?” I whisper allowing my hot breath to splash across her skin.
Her lips part slightly, her breath hitches and her gaze—there’s something about it that I can’t put my finger on. If this is anything like how she’d look screaming my name, I’m in deep shit.
“Maybe two weeks after that, but I am. I’m done,” she answers but in a thirsty pant. Catching herself, she blinks and shoves my side. “What’s it to you?”
It’s taking an unbelievable amount of strength not to press my lips to hers, to taste her, to feel her against me.
“Just asking a question, Paige.” And then the best idea known to man whacks me upside the head. “You need a vacation. When can you take a few days off?” I’m a fucking genius!
“I can take off any time I want, but I can’t afford a vacation right now,” she says slowly, puzzled at where I’m going with this.
“Blah, blah, blah. Take off next week, even the weekend,” I tell her.
“Why should I?”
“Because I asked you to?” I candy coat my reply.
“If I say no, are you going to squish me more?”
“Probably,” I chuckle.
She looks at her surroundings then her gaze flicks back to me. “Can we talk about this under different circumstances?”
If I had it my way, I’d have her here all day. Her ponytail is splayed wildly beside her, her breaths are heavy, and her cheeks are still flush from her previous anger. She’s completely alluring. But I also don’t want to cause myself any more anguish, so I comply, pressing down one last time to feel her against my cock, and then pop up offering her a hand.
“I take that as a yes,” she grunts as she rises.
She’s thinking of dirty things again. How do I know? I’ve learned a lot about her lately. She can’t look me in the eyes and now her soft flush has turned to a crimson red that has spread down her chest. I could make her damn dreams come true.
“I’m not going alone with you,” she says from her love seat.
Yes, you heard me right. Her love seat. Blain claims the couch like a kid who’s played King of the Castle and is unwilling to let the game go even when he’s nowhere around.
I grab my chest, feigning hurt. “I’m offended you don’t trust me.”
Her eyes scrunch with hostility. “How do I know you don’t have a hidden agenda?”
“Are you always this sketchy about shit?”
“She is when her emotions control her thoughts,” Blain says bounding up the steps. “So what’s she being sketchy about now?”
“I told her she needs a vacation and—”
“He wants me to go with him,” she interrupts pointing her finger at me.
“You realize you haven’t been on one in years,” Blain says taking a seat on the stool at the island. “Why not just go, Paigey?”
“You’re a fucking help,” she says sarcastically.
The room descends into an ear-piercing silence. Her mind is working, gears turning so fast that if you look hard enough you can see puffs of smoke coming out her ears. She’s conflicted, her eyes loaded down with worry. “Separate rooms?” she asks.
I fight back the victory smile. “You think that low of me? That hurts. Of course you’ll have your own room, Paigey.”
I know she wants to go. She just doesn’t trust herself around me and for good reason too because I sure the hell won’t stop her from anything she’d like to do to me.
“Do not think about calling me that,” she snips then pinches the bridge of her nose and closes her eyes. “Ok, so when do we leave?”
Fuck yes! Remind me to thank Blain later because I think without him, this plan would have been shot to pieces. “In the morning. I’l
l come get you.”
I might have sounded calm, but my blood is buzzing with a charge. She has no idea how much I want to be alone with her.
“In the morning? I can’t just drop that on Jim.”
“Better find a way,” I tell her.
“Where are we going?”
I slap my knees and stand to leave. “That’s for me to know and you to enjoy.”
I can’t help my grin now. It’s radiating on its own. I nod at Blain and head out stoked that I’m about to have her all to myself for days.
Chapter 14
What the hell was I thinking when I agreed to go on vacation with him? I called both managers and lied about needing the week off while I packed my bags. Then I laid in the bed tossing and turning, wondering if I made the right choice. I couldn’t quit arguing with myself. Half of me wanted to cancel on Levi. I know he’s a sneaky dog and I have no clue what his plans are, but the other half, the one that yearns for him, kept talking me into it. I finally fell asleep a little after three, but come six o’clock in the damn morning, Levi was at my door wide ass awake and ready to go. Anyone who doesn’t need coffee and twenty minutes to get that way has to be demented in some shape or form. Short on sleep and with a lack of caffeine when I opened the door, needless to say I wasn’t very polite.
He drives like a damned maniac. Just like Blain, he loves speed and curves, especially when mixing them together. I’m just about to piss myself. Switching from lane to lane, he laughs and cracks up as I squeeze my eyes shut and grip my seat. It’s too early for my adrenaline to be pumping. It’s like getting on a roller coaster just after you roll out of bed—it isn’t very nice.
We’ve been on the road for five hours when we finally pull up to a beautiful grey and white bungalow-style home with a large porch that wraps around the front. Across it, light fixtures hang down over the brown flooring that resembles wood, and white trim encases the windows and the top columns.
“Here we are,” he says putting his SUV in park.
“Where is here?” I ask.
“Home.” He winks getting out of the car.
I pop out of the door and round the car to him in a hurry. “Home? Like your home?” I’m frantic.
He laughs. “Yes my home. Do you think I bought you a house?”
“You have a house?”
“Yeah. I had to upgrade last year when the treehouse got too small for me.”
If I felt like this was a bad idea before, this has set sirens off. “You said vacation, not, ‘Hey I’m taking you home,’” I snap.
He places my suitcase on the ground and grabs my shoulder. “Paige, this is a vacation to you. You haven’t ever been here and I haven’t been home in months. Relax. I promised you would have your own room. Put some more damn trust in me.”
Although he’s right, I don’t let him know as I glare at him. This is much different than what I envisioned. I was supposed to be in a hotel room with several walls and a few doors separating us, not in the same damn house!
I pull my head out of worry-ville and follow behind him into the house. I’m in awe stepping into the magnified bachelor pad. As he leads me through the living room, I take in all the medals, trophies, pictures of him, and boxing gloves framed on the walls. There are even several snowboards mounted under the crown molding wrapping the entirety of the small room. I follow him down a short hallway with pictures of him in gyms and cages, some with Adam, others with I’m assuming different trainers on display to each side. He pushes a bedroom door open and drops my bag on the bed, smirks then leaves me be.
The room is small, but homey. A queen size bed with a blue comforter pulled tight, a dresser with a television on top, and a matching nightstand are all this room holds. The walls are sand toned, and the curtains match the comforter. That’s it. No fancy schmancy, no decorative items, just a regular bedroom and I like it.
I wander into the living room to find Levi sprawled out on the couch, changed into grey gym shorts and a fitted white t-shirt, flipping through channels on a ridiculously stupid large TV. His tattoos might be concealed by the fabric, but I can see traces of them as his muscles push against the cloth. My imagination runs wild as I picture my hands dragging over them and tracing them with my tongue—
“Like it?” he asks not looking at me.
I nearly jump out of my skin lost in a delicious illusion. My brain fires the first thing it comes up with. “It’s quiet out here.”
“Yep. That’s what I like about it too.”
“So what are the plans for the day?” I ask.
“For starters,” he says sitting up. “Get naked. We’ll run around chasing each other until we tire out, then we’ll lay together in my bed.”
My heart races at the thought of his naked body. His tanned skin, muscles, tattoos—stop! I shake the thoughts out of my head. “No.”
“Well, let’s check that off the list. What do you want to do? Me?”
He’s a stickler for words, don’t you think?
“You woke me up after three hours of sleep, drive like a madman for five hours and bring me somewhere I know nothing about. You should be the tour guide.”
His laugh brightens his face, lighting his royal blues. “Nothing it is. We’ll hang out here today. You can nap, read, file your nails, do whatever girls do when they have down time. But I have to go to the grocery store if you want to eat anytime soon. Feel up to it?”
Ever been to the grocery store with a man who eats like a picky elephant? I wouldn’t recommend it. It was the most annoying, patience-trying, hair pulling experience I have ever had to endure. The man has a huge appetite, but he doesn’t eat this, he won’t eat that, this is unhealthy, that isn’t the best choice, you should try this disgusting looking stuff, or you should try that. He drove me utterly mad so much that when we got home, I helped carry in groceries and went straight to sleep. I had to. I was drained.
Sounds of pots clanking together pull me from my peaceful nap. I rub the sleep from my eyes then head quietly down the hallway. He’s waltzing around the kitchen, pulling food from the fridge, humming a song as he nods his head. I can’t help but smile a little goofy at the tender sight of him.
He turns realizing I’m there and shows off his pearly whites. “Sleep good?”
“I did. I want that bed,” I say throwing my thumb over my shoulder toward the room.
He clears his throat then twists around popping the cork to a bottle of wine and pouring it into a glass. “Sit,” he orders pulling out a stool at the island and handing me the glass. It’s wine…I definitely do not argue and do exactly as I’m told.
His kitchen is gorgeous. Stainless steel appliances with amber yellow granite counter tops and black cabinets. Living as a bachelor who’s on the road as much as he is, I wouldn’t think something so elegant belonged to him. Heck, I can picture him living in a house with no kitchen and having a personal chef bring something in daily, but he’s a natural in here. There’s no hesitation, no confusion, no uncertainty. It’s just raw confidence in every move he makes. I’m at a loss for words watching such a bulky man move so fluidly around it.
He continues to cook, humming his own song, flipping food in the pan with a flick of his wrist, reaching for seasonings and plates. Every time I ask to help, he refuses and reminds me to sit. Again, definitely not arguing.
He smiles as he places a steak, some shrimp and a potato on two white square plates and wipes the sides. It’s like he’s a professional. I’ve seen that done on cooking shows. Sliding my plate to me, he leans on the other side of the island and begins cutting his food.
“Would you like to sit at the table just a few feet over there?” I titter.
He looks to it, then back to me. “Nah. I don’t think I’ve ever eaten there. Played poker, but no dinners.”
I grab my plate and drink. “There’s a first for everything. Come on.”
He doesn’t dispute and follows in behind, sitting directly across from me.
I’m pretty sure m
y eyes just rolled taking in the first bite of a perfectly cooked steak.
“I’m assuming that moan is because you like it?” he says with excitement weaving its way over his lips.
I cover my mouth with my hand embarrassed a little and nod.
Still beaming, he crams another bite into his mouth, watching me intensely. It’s daunting to have someone stare at you as you eat. I feel self-conscious as though I’m eating like a horse.
The rest of dinner remains quiet as he scarfs his food down, then sits back and just watches me. I can’t eat that fast. I’d be sick. After helping him clean, full and about to bust, I’ve settled into the corner of his leather couch pulling my legs in beside me. He has no room to get close…if that was his plan.
“Ok, movie test time,” he says. “What do you want to watch? A movie or a strip tease?” He slides his thumbs under his waistband and slowly sways his hips pursing his lips out. He sexily begins pulling his shirt, bearing the smooth skin over his tight abs and showing off that delectable V that makes every woman stumble.
Side to sultry side, his hips swing smoothly. Heat bounds through me and nervously I lock eyes with him.
“Do you have The Lion King?” I quip desperate for air.
His succulent tease screeches to a halt midway and his face scrunches. “You’re picking Disney over this?” He spreads his hands showcasing the beautiful body of his. “I thought you had taste?”
I giggle at his amused expression. “I do have taste and I’m picking Disney.”
“Well then,” he chuckles and points to a bookshelf beside the television. “Movies are over there.”
This vacation is going to be difficult. He knows what he’s doing to me and it’s not fair. I already ache for him, to feel his lips and his body pressed against mine. He’s consumed my every thought and now I’m closed up in the same house? This is going to be a massive war of willpower to keep me in check and not give into his player ways.
I’m not surprise at the manly selection. Rocky, Die Hard, Gladiator, you know, all the macho choices, but one in particular grasps my attention. It’s one of my favorites of all times and I haven’t seen it in years. I grab it and hand it to him. His brows jump high on his forehead. “Do you know what this is about?”
