by Pam Godwin
“Oh my God, you have such a huge head.”
“I know, and you want it thrusting inside you. But I insist we get to know each other first.” He opens the door. “See you in a couple hours.”
“Don’t you dare come ba—”
The door shuts, leaving me aroused and fuming and completely off-kilter. What the hell just happened?
I flex and loosen my hands. He might be right about some things, but I’m still in control here. He’ll be running the other way by the end of the night.
CHAPTER 9
DECKER
I leave the beautiful Miss Somerset shaken—just enough to keep her guessing—and stroll through the empty living room with a heady surge of energy.
Laynee’s the last person I expected, and while she might be a frustrating pain in the ass with a closet full of baggage, I’m goddamn giddy over the thought of sparring with her again.
Tonight.
In her bed.
I meant it when I said I don’t do sleepovers. Most of my hookups end with the woman begging me to stay as I pry her off my body and make my escape. Laynee might be gorgeous and wealthy, but I can find women like that all over the city, and I don’t have to do shit to spark their interest. The thing is I want to work for it, and Laynee’s thrown down the gauntlet. The faster she retreats, the harder I’m going to chase.
Grabbing my jacket from the chair in the sitting room, I wander down a hallway and find Reese in the kitchen. Bent over the island, he’s engrossed by his phone.
“Let’s go.” I nod in the direction of the elevator.
“Go?” He straightens. “Where?”
“I need to see a guy. Just a quick trip to the Village and back.”
“Oh. Okay.” He glances down the hall toward the master suite, brows scrunching. “I need to…uh…”
“Run along and ask permission. I’ll meet you at the elevator.”
Shrugging on my jacket, I find my way out. The short walk leads me past two…four…five security guards. Some are loitering. Others are coming and going. When I reach the front lobby of the penthouse, another guard sits in a chair beside the card reader for the lift.
“I need a keycard to leave?” I ask.
“Yes, Sir.” He pulls one out of his pocket and swipes it over the reader.
“How many bodyguards are with her on this trip?”
“I’m not authorized—”
“Ten,” Reese says behind me just as the elevator opens.
“Jesus.” I follow him inside the lift. “Why so many?”
“She’s famous.” His tone is casual, but there’s more to it.
Before I can ask, he presses the button for the private garage—exactly where I don’t want to go.
“We’re taking the subway.” I reach for the button labeled Lobby.
“No way.” He blocks me from pressing it. “I’m not usually recognized, but it’s better to err on the side of discreet.”
“A limo isn’t discreet.”
“We’re taking her car.”
I follow him into the garage, where a black SUV waits a few feet away. The driver—an older woman wearing a navy pants suit—opens the rear door. I give her the address of a Greenwich Village restaurant and slide into the backseat after Reese.
“Why am I coming with you?” He latches his seatbelt and watches me do the same.
“Three reasons.” I rest an elbow on the window ledge as the SUV exits the garage.
“Those are?”
I point my chin at the driver sitting within earshot and raise a brow at Reese.
“She’s one of our trusted employees,” he says. “Rachel, meet Decker. Decker, Rachel.”
She raises a hand in greeting and navigates the SUV into the cluster of traffic.
“I brought you along as an insurance policy.” I cast him a pointed look. “Laynee won’t leave without you.”
“Okay.” He draws out the word. “But she can’t exactly skip town in a couple hours. It takes time to prep the plane and assemble her entourage.”
“I think she can do anything she wants when she’s pissed.”
“She’s pretty pissed.” He nods thoughtfully. “What’s the second reason?”
“Crisis prevention. I have no idea how to handle a reporter. If my association with her was leaked while I was in the hotel, I’m not prepared to deal with that. Screwing up her public image is the last thing I want.”
“That’s cool of you.” He taps his fingers on his leg. “Really cool actually. I’m impressed.”
He stares at me with more admiration than I’m comfortable with, especially after he just tried to go down on me.
“The third reason you’re tagging along…” I shift to face him. “We need to have a conversation.”
“I figured.”
“You’re bi-sexual.”
He gapes at me like he can’t believe I said that.
“Don’t fuck with me.” A scowl twists my lips. “You went after my dick.”
“I know. I was there,” he deadpans. “It’s just…most guys assume I’m gay.”
I blow out a sharp breath. “I saw the way you look at her. Do you love her?”
“Yes. But it’s not what you think.”
“Then explain it.” My jaw flexes with impatience.
“We tried to be…exclusive.”
“You fucked her?” My voice whips through the confined space.
“We didn’t get that far. Look, it’s hard to explain. Just know that she and I… We’re not compatible in that way.”
“I need more than that.”
“It’s better if you figure it out yourself.”
Fucking games. I despise them.
From what I gathered during my brief introduction to Laynee Somerset, she has intimacy issues. She restrains men but doesn’t fuck them. She has some kind of sexual arrangement with Reese, but they’re not compatible in bed. She wants me, but it’s clear she’s trying to talk herself into hating me. Why? Because I wouldn’t let Reese suck my dick? I think it goes way deeper than that, and I intend to find out.
The SUV motors down Seventh Avenue, filling the windows with the bright lights of commercial signs and passing cars. I’ve never traveled outside of the New York-New Jersey area and can’t wrap my mind around living somewhere else. Especially not Savannah. What the hell will I do there?
Laynee. That’s what I’ll do.
“You know,” Reese says, “she probably called Karen Flores the instant you left.”
“Yep.”
“You don’t seem concerned.”
“The only way out of this agreement is physical abuse.”
He rubs his throat, and I shake my head. Putting him in a chokehold was self-defense, not assault. But even if I physically harmed him, it wouldn’t void the agreement. Laynee’s the client, not him.
“Word of advice.” I harden my eyes. “Don’t touch me, and I won’t touch you.”
“Got it.”
“Do you? Because I feel like this is going to be an issue.”
“No, it’s—”
“You’re attracted to me.”
He clears his throat and stares out the side window, hiding his expression. “Yes.”
I try to keep the irritation out of my tone. “You want to fuck me?”
“I…um…”
“We’re going to have this conversation while you’re looking at me.”
A few seconds pass before he shifts his eyes to mine and says quietly, “I prefer…”
“Speak up.”
“I prefer it the other way around. You fucking me.”
My stomach clenches. “Is that how it works with the others you bring to her?”
“I fuck them.” He slides his palms over his jean-clad thighs and holds my gaze. “She likes to watch.”
“Are they bi-sexual?”
“Not always.” The corner of his mouth lifts. “You’d be surprised what a straight man will do when Laynee Somerset is in the room.”
The notion makes my stomach hurt. I don’t care who the woman is. I would never be able to get it up for a dude.
“I don’t fuck men.” I say sternly. “And no one fucks me. You and I can be friends, but that’s it. Are we clear?”
“I understand.” He chews on a fingernail.
“Same goes for Laynee. No more voyeuristic, partner-sharing…whatever you two dabble in. Going forward, your relationship with her is strictly platonic.”
He turns toward the window and rests a fist against his mouth. The SUV travels several blocks, and the Village comes into view. We’re almost there, but the silence between us is heavy, suggesting the conversation isn’t over.
“Say what’s on your mind.” I stare out the windshield, watching him stir in my periphery.
“She can be difficult.” He fidgets with the zipper on his wool coat.
“I noticed.”
“I don’t think she likes you.”
“Oh, she likes me. She just doesn’t want to like me.”
“She’s not going to make it easy for you.” He tips his head toward me.
“I’m counting on that.”
We lock eyes, and a smile plays on the corner of his mouth. I don’t smile back, but my entire body vibrates with excitement. If Laynee’s as headstrong as she seems, I might’ve finally met my match.
Our destination—a French-style tapas restaurant—emerges on the left, and Rachel pulls to a stop in the small over-packed parking lot.
“We’ll be fifteen…twenty minutes,” I tell her. “Good luck finding a place to park.”
“I’ll circle around until you come out.” She unlocks the doors.
Reese follows me out and jogs after me toward the rear entrance of the restaurant. “What are we doing here?”
“My buddy waits tables on the night shift.” I veer onto the sidewalk and slip my hands into the pockets of my jacket to ward off the chilly air. “Just checking in with him before I leave town.”
The stench of a nearby dumpster wafts through the dark alley behind the restaurant. There’s no one around, and the back door is closed. I pull on the handle. Locked.
Huddling closer to the building, I shiver against the bitter wind. “Won’t be long. Someone will step out for a smoke break.”
“Why don’t we use the front entrance?” Reese leans a shoulder on the brick wall beside me, his breaths forming plumes of white vapor.
“The hostess won’t be happy to see me.” I cringe at the memory of my last encounter with Apryl.
“Why am I not surprised?” He smirks.
“That’s bullshit. I always leave behind a satisfied smile.”
“Until they find out there won’t be seconds?”
“On a good night, there’s definitely seconds.” I grin. “And thirds—”
The door swings open, and I turn to find the last person I want to see.
“You.” Apryl shoves a hand through her short black hair, her face contorting into the pixie version of a roid rage. “What the fuck are you doing here?”
“Calm down. I just need—”
“No.” She throws the bag of trash she carried out, her voice spiking from pissed off to psychotic. “If you think I’ll take you back, you can go fuck yourself.”
Jesus Christ, she thinks I’m here for her? The woman is a complete and utter nightmare. Why I ever thought it was a good idea to stick my dick in her is beyond me. Granted I was drunk, but goddamn, I should’ve known better.
Reese chews on his lip, his eyes glimmering in the moonlight.
“Apryl.” I raise my hands in a placating gesture. “I’m here to see Dan.”
“You’re a fucking asshole, you know that?” She storms toward me, fists balled at her sides. “Why aren’t you returning my texts?”
Where do I begin? The sex was sloppy. She’s clingy and unhinged, and I have no idea how she got my number. I blocked her messages after the first twenty-four hours. That was two months ago.
“We’re not doing this.” I sidestep her, easily evading her pathetic punch. “I need you to go get Dan.”
I’d get him myself, but she’ll follow me in and make a horrendous scene.
“I hate you.” She swings again.
This time I let her knuckles connect with my chest. Maybe she’ll wear herself out.
“You’re such a womanizing manwhore.” She goes ballistic, slapping my torso and spitting a string of insults. “I know you fucked Cassie and Iliza and God knows who else, you fucking slut.”
When I visit Dan at work, sometimes I go home with a waitress…or two. I’m a horny single guy, and I don’t have to explain myself to anyone. Especially not to this deranged woman.
I stand still and let her fists bounce off my body like a petulant fly. Doesn’t take long before her breaths become labored, and her slaps slide into heavy caresses.
“I miss you, dammit.” Her forehead falls to my chest. “You broke my heart.”
“We had sex one time.” I wince against a bony punch in the ribs and gently push her away. “Ten minutes in a bar bathroom, Apryl. It wasn’t your heart I was fucking.”
“Don’t minimize my emotions.” She stabs a finger at her chest. “What I feel is real!”
I catch Reese’s grin out of the corner of my eye and struggle to keep a straight face. It really is kind of funny…in a sad, mentally unstable way.
“Why, Decker?” She flings herself at me, arms wrapping around my waist and face buried against my chest. “You just threw me away like it meant nothing.”
My hands hover in the air above her as she hangs on my body. I should tell her the truth—she lost her appeal the moment she went from cute to batshit obsessive—but I’m not that vicious. I want her gone, not emotionally destroyed. So I opt for an easy out.
“My grandma died,” I say in a quiet tone.
“What?” She lifts her head and searches my eyes. “How?”
“She was…” I say the first thing that pops into my head. “Beaten.” I slide a hand down her back, as if seeking solace. “Someone broke into her house and beat her with a baseball bat.” I’m going to hell.
“Oh my God. I had no idea.” Just like that, her hysteria evaporates, replaced with soft petting hands and adoring eyes. “I’m so sorry, Decker.”
Reese folds his arms across his chest and does a piss poor job of hiding his grin.
Laugh it up, asshole.
“I have to leave town for a while.” I grip her shoulders and put space between us.
“For the funeral?” She clutches my wrists. “I can go with you. You know, if you need”—a vixenish smile—“comforting.”
My stomach turns. “I’ll be fine. Can you go get Dan for me?”
“Yes, of course.” She strokes my chest. “When you get back… Well, you have my number.”
I probably shouldn’t tell her I deleted it. “I’m in a hurry, Apryl.”
She moves in for a kiss, and I turn my head right before her lips graze my jaw.
“Okay, I’ll just…” She steps back. “I’ll be waiting for your call.”
I give her a wave. Keep walking. There you go. Don’t forget to take your meds. The door closes behind her, and I blow out a breath. Fuck.
“What was that?” Reese huffs a laugh.
“A mistake.”
“Which part?”
“All of it.”
“I’m embarrassed for you.”
I drop my head back and close my eyes.
“You have any more mistakes following you around?” he asks.
“We’re not talking about this.”
“I mean, she didn’t even notice me standing here. Those crazy eyes were all for you.”
“Enjoying yourself?”
“Tremendously.”
A few seconds later, Dan opens the door, wearing the requisite server uniform. The sleeves of his button-up are rolled to the elbows, and the end of his necktie is tucked beneath an apron.
“A dead grandma, dude?” He hugs himself
, hunching against a biting gust of wind. “Do you even have a grandma?”
“Not that I know of.”
“I was going to warn you away from Apryl.” He shakes his head, grinning. “Gorgeous girl. Tight pussy. But clingy as a chronic STD.”
“Yeah, thanks for the heads up.” I glower at him.
“I’ve been trying to call you the last couple days.” He gives Reese a cursory glance and turns back to me. “Where’ve you been?”
“Lost my job. Phone was shut off, but it’s back on now. Long story. Anyway, I’m heading out of town for a while.”
“What? Why?”
I’ve known this guy for years and don’t want to lie to him. He’ll see photos of me with Laynee eventually, but until then, I’m bound by an NDA. So I keep my answer vague.
“I met someone.”
He looks at Reese, who leans against the building wearing an unreadable expression.
“Not him,” I say. “Well, yeah, I met him recently.” I do quick introductions. “Reese isn’t the reason I’m leaving.”
“So what’s the deal?” Dan rubs a hand over his shaggy blond hair, studying my face. “Are you in trouble?”
“Nothing like that. This is a good thing, man. I just need you to trust me.”
“Yeah, okay. How long will you be gone?”
“A year.”
“No shit? That sounds serious.”
“I’m keeping my apartment.” I pull a key from my pocket and place it in his hand. “It’s yours for the next year. Rent-free.”
“No, I…” He stares at the key and curls his fingers around it. “I thought you were behind on the rent.”
“Rent and utilities are taken care of. Don’t ask questions, Dan. Just say thank you and move in.”
“I can’t. This is too much.” He tries to give the key back.
I shove my hands in the pockets of my jacket. “Where’re you sleeping this week?”
His eyes cut to Reese and return to me. “Here and there.”
“Homeless shelter?”
“I’m working things out, picking up extra shifts, and—”
“Now you have one less thing to worry about. You’d do the same for me.” I pull him in for a one-armed hug and step back. “I’ll call you when I’m settled. We good?”
