Setting her glass down, I wave to her to have fun and head for the bathroom. Two shots and a bottle of beer are finally hitting me.
As soon as I leave the bathroom, stepping into the dim, crowded hall full of girls and guys waiting in bathroom lines, a heavy, woozy feeling descends over me.
I stumble into someone and murmur an apology, pushing my hand against my head.
Sudden terror makes my pulse whoosh in my ears. My palms turn damp as I quickly shake my head to clear it. No, no, no. Not again. The sense of unrealism shifts the floor beneath my feet. This time feels much heavier, like it’s pulling me under. I blink rapidly, heading down the hall as fast as I can. I glance around, fear seizing me as I look for Hayes’s leering face among the crowd. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I know it’s illogical. The bastard’s in prison for drug cooking and dealing, but I can’t stop my mind from being sucked into the past, back to the days where my innocence and freedom were stolen from me.
My skin crawls with the feel of Hayes’ warm breath rushing across my neck and I hear his voice in my head. “You just need to relax a little.” The strong, bitter taste of the powder he brushed across my lips suddenly fills my mouth all over again, making me want to gag.
He’s not here. My stomach heaves anyway. I have to get out of here. Get outside and breathe in fresh air.
My heart is hammering by the time I make my way past the dance floor and through the mass of people to the bar’s front door. I think I hear Cynthia calling me, but I need open space, not people pressing against me. I need to breathe, so I keep moving forward, each step feeling slower than the last.
The second I escape outside I run into someone. The man grips my arms. “Hey, are you all right?” But even though the deep resonance of his voice seems familiar, I can’t get the words to form.
His hold on me tightens as if urging me to answer. I open my mouth to say something, but I stumble and pitch forward. With my chin suddenly smashed against the guy’s chest, I glance up at the same time Bash looks down at me, a deep scowl on his face.
My world tilts as he effortlessly scoops me into his arms. Pressed against his chest, I clutch my purse to my side, managing a couple words, but his deep voice rumbles against my temple. “Shut up, T. Just be quiet for now. I need to get you out of here.”
Why does he sound mad? I try to reason an answer, but my brain just doesn’t have the capacity. When he turns to walk off the porch, some guy behind us calls out, “Hey, is she okay?”
Bash pauses, his hands cinching around my body as he turns around to face him. “She’s fine.”
“Does she know you?” another guy says, echoed by a third man’s voice. “She’s half out of it, man.”
“She knows me,” Bash replies, tightness in his tone. I try to get the guys’ faces to focus, but they’re a blur to me. They sound young, like they’re in college. I mumble and wave my hand to let them know Bash wants to help, but apparently I don’t sound convincing, because the first guy chimes in again, his tone harder, threatening.
“I think you should just call her a cab.”
Bash takes a couple steps and sets me down in one of the wicker chairs, then faces the trio. “I’m not leaving here without her, so I suggest you go inside—”
He’s cut off by one of the guys throwing a punch. Bash dodges the fist, then straightens, his voice taking on a steely tone. “I’m going to warn you three just once not to mess with me—”
All three guys go after Bash at once, shoes scuffling and fists flying. When I try to stand and tell them to stop, I just end up slithering to my butt on the wooden floor, the wicker chair digging into my back.
After he slams his fist into one guy’s jaw, sending him stumbling back, Bash grabs another guy in a chokehold, then swings his foot back, catching his last attacker in the ankle with enough force to knock him to the ground.
Spitting out blood, hobbling forward, and shaking off grogginess, the revved up men go after Bash again. Everything else moves in a blur before Bash scoops me into his arms and steps over the three, who lay on the porch floor, groping various injured body parts.
As Bash walks down the wooden stairs, my vision starts to dim. After what I just witnessed, I’m pretty sure Bash will keep me safe. Relaxing against him, I stop fighting consciousness and let the encroaching darkness pull me completely under.
I stir the spatula in the runny eggs waiting for them to cook, and just when they start to harden, I reach for the salt in the cabinet above the stove and let out a surprised gasp when a wiry arm appears over my shoulder, grabbing the salt for me. Setting the shaker down on the counter, Hayes bends down from his five-eleven height and says from behind me, “Smells good. Making me lunch?”
My stomach instantly begins to churn. Since Hayes hadn’t bothered me in months, I thought he had finally given up on his fascination with me. I still have nightmares about him grabbing me and fondling my boob. My first instinct is to run, but our apartment is tiny. I won’t get very far, so I hold my ground, refusing to let him intimidate me.
My aunt’s working, but I’m so thankful Walt will be home any moment. I swallow the fear that’s scratching my throat raw and force myself to sound tough to the forty-year-old bastard who’s standing too close to me. “The door between our apartments is closed for a reason, Hayes. Walt told you to stay away from me. I heard him.”
“Why can’t I wish you a Happy Birthday? Happened a couple days ago, right? Happy thirteenth, Talia,” he murmurs against my ear, his smarmy voice and sickly sweet cologne making my skin crawl. “You’re officially a teen now.” Hot breath bathes my bare shoulder next to my tank top’s strap. “Hmmm, a year older and even hotter.”
“You need to leave now,” I say through gritted teeth, my death grip on the spatula making my fingers numb. While I quake on the inside, I wrap my left hand around the frying pan’s handle, ready to use it if I need to.
Hayes moves with lightning speed, snaking an arm around my shoulder.
“Let me go!” I screech.
His forearm locks around my chest and he quickly presses a finger against my lips. “Shhhh!” I try to jerk away, to kick him in that bum ankle he favors, but I’m trapped and unable to move as he slides the thick pad across my mouth. Pushing past my lips, he groans like he’s enjoying the moisture in my mouth while rubbing his finger against my teeth. “You need to relax a little.”
As he grinds his bulging erection against my butt, the sharp, bitter taste on his finger freaks me out even more. Shit, shit, shit! He’s just rubbed some of the residue from the Ecstasy pills that he, Walt, and Jimmy package together in his apartment along my gums. Everything inside me goes cold when he continues with a sickening smugness, “It will help you learn to chill the fuck out just like it has Walt.”
My mouth begins to tingle and my heart jerks at a frantic pace. When a sinking feeling of inevitability grips me, self-preservation kicks in. I jam my elbow into his ribs and rush to the sink. While I frantically splash water in my mouth, my body heat spikes and my pulse races out of control. Maybe it’s not the drugs working just yet, maybe it’s my adrenaline making me feel like I’m going to pass out.
I jerk upright at the sound of Walt’s key scraping in the lock. Hayes moves close, “Say a word and I’ll arrange it so Walt gets caught with a buttload of drugs on him. Go ahead. Do it, little girl. Then I’ll have you all to myself,” he croons before he moves to the open doorway that connects our apartments.
The second Walt walks inside, I want so badly to scream out what Hayes has done despite the threat he just gave, but Hayes leans around the door connecting our apartments as if he’s just poking his head in and crooks a finger at Walt. “Come on, Walt. You’re here just in time. We’ve got business to discuss. More just came our way.”
Amelia must’ve heard Walt’s name because she comes flying in the kitchen, little arms raised for him to pick her up. “Daddy!”
Walt grins at Hayes and immediately sets the groceries down. Mumbling t
hat I should put them away, he pats Amelia on the head, then walks around her, heading toward the open doorway.
When Amelia tries to follow him, he barks at her, “You’re not allowed in here, Amelia. Go watch TV.”
“But I want to be with you, Dadd—”
“Go!” he says forcefully. Amelia’s blonde hair shrouds her face, but I can tell how much her dad’s rejection hurts, so I walk over and swoop her up. “Want to play a board game with me?”
While Amelia pats my face with her little hands, babbling about which game we should play, Hayes looks at me one last time, then chuckles before he closes the door behind them. His smugness leaves me shaking.
Setting Amelia down, I tell her to go find a game, and after she runs off, I stare at the closed door, feeling more disconnected to reality by the minute. Stupid drugs! Before I completely lose myself to the buzz, I grab the edge of the counter and sag against it, hissing to the empty room, “Twisted motherfucker!” all the while wishing I’d bitten Hayes’ finger off while I had the chance.
A cold wetness yanks me out of my foggy dreamscape, and I blink my eyes open to see a dimly lit Bash leaning over me, pressing a damp cloth to my forehead.
“I don’t like it when you don’t listen to me,” he says in a terse tone.
I quickly jerk upright and back away. Fumbling with the nightstand light, I switch it on and exhale slowly, seriously wondering if I’m losing my mind. For a brief second, in the dark room, lit only by the bathroom light behind him, he’d sounded just like Sebastian.
All dominant and bossy.
Rubbing my arms against the sudden chill washing over me, I realize I’m only wearing my thin tank top and underwear, and my nipples are jutting against the coral-colored material in glaring, hi-beam abandon. I cross my arms over my chest and demand, “Where are my clothes?”
He gestures to the end of the bed where my sweater, bra and skirt lay in a heap. “You were burning up. I needed to cool you down.” His serious expression turns hard. “If the wet cloth didn’t do the trick, you were going in the shower next. What the hell did you take?”
“Are you serious? I didn’t take anything. I was drugged!” When he frowns, I rub my forehead trying to remember past the pounding headache. “I had one beer. Someone must’ve spiked it. It’s the only thing I had there.”
“You shouldn’t have gone by yourself.”
I tense at his stiff, angry tone. “I didn’t. I went with Cynthia. Oh, shit! How—” I pause and glance around the unfamiliar room to the night sky outside his window. “How long have I been out? If this happened to me…I hope she’s okay.”
“You’ve been out for a couple hours. Other than being hot, you were fine. Your breathing only spiked right before you woke up, otherwise I’d have taken you straight to the hospital.” He gestures to my phone laying on top of my purse on the nightstand. “Your phone kept buzzing with a few freaked out texts from someone named Cynthia. I finally responded as you, telling her you’re fine but had to leave.”
I rub my temples, thankful the headache seems to be dissipating. When the air-conditioned air hits my warm skin, chill bumps form. I start to rub my arms once more, then remember my revealing shirt and cross my arms back over my chest. “Can you pass me my clothes please?”
Bash grunts and stands to grab the pile. Handing them to me, he says, “It’s nothing I haven’t seen before.”
“Not mine you haven’t,” I snap, feeling like an idiot. Whoever spiked my drink must’ve done it while I was dealing with the guy who grabbed me. Maybe he’d been working with a partner and distracted me while the other person drugged my drink. I should count myself lucky Bash came along when he did. I try to ignore him as I forgo my bra and quickly pull my sweater over my tank top. When I stand to step into my skirt, he doesn’t move away. Instead, once I’ve zipped it up, he steps closer.
Lifting my chin, his expression is hard as granite. “I do have one question. Who is Hayes?”
I swallow and literally feel the blood drain from my face. “Hayes?”
He nods but doesn’t release me. “You called him a ‘twisted motherfucker.’ Call it a hunch, but I doubt you go around using that kind of language all the time.”
Blow it off, Talia! I pull from his hold. “He’s no one,” I say and start to step around him, but Bash clasps my arm.
“T…” When I look up, he turns me back toward him. “Why did you take the shot?”
I blink. “What?”
He moves until his broad chest is almost touching mine. Sliding his thumb along my jaw, he pauses beneath my ear. “Why did you choose the vodka?”
Instead of kissing you?
I’ve been trying to ignore the tingling each time he touches me, but this time when he applies gentle pressure before moving his thumb down the side of my neck, I burn. Deep scorching heat that shoots straight to my toes.
Before I can think of a proper response, he lowers his head.
Oh, God! He’s going to kiss me. This is a bad idea. Right? Despite my thoughts, a jolt of lust curls in my belly, stealing my ability to speak.
His mouth stops a breath away from mine. “Regret it now?”
Frustration and relief war in my head, while desire shoots straight past my chest and vaults to my brain, demanding I press my lips to his. I resist the strong temptation with everything I’ve got. If I kiss him, I know it’ll be for all the wrong reasons. The main one being… he’d just be a substitute for the man I really want.
Why can’t I forget about you, Sebastian?
A satisfied smile curls his lips right before he closes the distance. The moment he connects, I take a step back and somehow manage a calm tone while my heart thumps at a crazy, rapid-fire pace. “I think it’s best if I go back to my room now. Thank you for getting me out of that bar safely, Bash. I really appreciate it. It turns out you were right. Talking to Donald will have to wait until tomorrow.”
I shove my bra and phone in my purse and head for the door. Just as I put my hand on the door handle, Bash says from a few feet behind me, “You think the hired help is beneath you, is that it?”
I turn to him, not liking his assumption or sarcasm. “I’ve never considered myself above anyone. Ever. Just because you stripped off my clothes while I was unconscious, don’t presume you know anything about me.”
He glances down at my ring hand on the doorknob. “I know enough.”
Okay, so I participated in an impromptu spin-the-bottle event, but it was only because he assumed that I planned to ignore his offer to take me to Donald, so of course I had to prove him wrong. Why have I let this man get under my skin? Maybe he should feel some of that itchy burn. “You want to know why I took that vodka shot? Because there wasn’t anything there. No spark.”
He barks out a laugh. “Does the truth ever come out of your mouth?” Crossing his arms, he adopts a confident stance, perfect biceps and corded muscles flexing underneath his heather gray T-shirt. “I know chemistry, and you and I, we’ve fucking got it in spades, sweetheart. Once you’re ready to admit I’m right about that too, know this….” His brilliant blue gaze slices into me. “When I kiss you, I’ll own you, and you’ll be the one pulling my clothes off.”
“Arrogant ass!” I snort. “Do you even own a razor?” I don’t care that my dig sounds as pretentious as he accused me of being a second ago. The guy has just pushed one too many buttons. Ignoring his chuckle, I start to turn the door handle when he switches to an autocratic tone.
“Don’t leave here again without me.”
I swivel around, feminine hackles raised. “You’re not my keeper.”
He lowers his arms to his sides. “Have you ever been kept? Really kept?” he asks, his voice quietly intense. “The way a woman like you should be?”
Something in his voice hits me hard and my bones start to melt at a traitorously embarrassing pace. I straighten my spine and speak past the sudden scratch in my voice. “No self-respecting woman would ever let herself be kept.”
“So you haven’t.” The pleased purr in his statement, followed by a lion-like curl of his lip kindles the tiny fires flickering through me into a raging blaze. His gaze drops briefly to my left hand. “It has nothing to do with a flimsy promise behind that piece of metal around your finger.”
When he takes a step forward, I cinch my hand tight on the handle, ready to bolt, but his mesmerizing voice holds me captive. “It has everything to do with giving yourself over in a complete physical sense. I can show you exactly what that feels like.” His focus travels from my face, down my body and back, leaving a singing path in its wake. “And you’ll love every aching minute of it.”
Why are his words hitting me right in the gut? He’s talking like I’ve already agreed. I shake my head to snap myself out of his hypnotic sexual lure. “Stop trying to seduce me.” His sudden dark smile reminds me so much of Sebastian, I grit my teeth and take a deep breath through my nose. “Seriously. Just stop.”
“Are you done arguing with me?” he says in a calm, even tone. “Especially after what happened today.”
He’d switched gears so fast, I blink a couple times before it occurs to me what he’s talking about. He’s referring to me not going anywhere without him. “It’s Martha’s Vineyard for Pete’s sake. Today was a weird circum—”
“T…” He cuts me off, dogged determination in the stubborn lines on his face.
“Fine,” I huff, exhausted from his mental gymnastics. Opening the door, I stalk off to the quiet sanctuary of my room.
The moment the sunlight hits my eyes, they pop open. I lay in bed trying to fall back to sleep, but all I can think about is the wildly erotic dreams I tossed and turned to. Every single one featured Bash talking to me about what it means to be his kept woman. And even though all he did was talk, I’m laying here in this massive king-sized bed with a painful ache between my thighs, wondering if there’s a female equivalent to blue balls. If any man’s voice could drive a woman to the brink of sheer sexual frustration, it would be Bash’s ultra sexy bass whispering in her ear.
Scarlett Red: A Billionaire SEAL Story, Part 2 (In the Shadows) Page 4
