Hardware

by Sara Brookes

  He spun her around so her back was tight against the refrigerator and sighed against his mouth as he slid his hand under her shirt. The guys in other room let out a shout as they celebrated their triumph while she and Patrick celebrated in their own way.

  His dexterous fingers cupped both breasts for a fraction of second—just long enough for him to rocket her up to that precipice. Those hands moved down between her legs and slid through the wet heat that already soaked her underwear.

  He had a dangerous glint in his eyes as he backed away and touched the tip of his tongue to his finger—the very same one that had just been inside her. A stab of lust nearly had her growling out her need for him and as she started to reach for him, he neatly avoided her grasp. The beer bottle he'd set on the counter was in his hand instead. He gave her a sly look as he lifted the bottle and walked out of the kitchen as if nothing were out of the ordinary.

  This man is going to be the death of me. And it's a death I will willingly experience a thousand times over.

  It took a few breaths before she was steady enough to step back out into the living room. Her friends had quickly assimilated him into the game with them in a short amount of time. Even though he clearly didn't know what he was doing, everyone appeared to have a good time.

  She liked to see Patrick here with her small group of friends. They probably weren't the type of males he typically associated with. She made it a point to ask him at some other time about his friends and if she could meet them. Their whole world had been each other lately. Not that there was anything wrong with spending a lot of time together.

  As the night continued, Patrick seemed agitated. She thought back and tried to find the reason for his edginess, but could think of nothing. Maybe it was residual from the incident in the kitchen, but given the level of control she'd seen in him the morning after the infamous phone call, she dismissed that idea. No, something else bothered him and she intended to find out what it was.

  She didn't have to wait long as within the next ten minutes, the problem reached up and smacked her in the face. Mark had just made some comment about a woman he'd tried to get into the pants of lately and Scott had responded with a snide comment that was misogynistic in nature. Tony had then chimed in with another comment that made direct reference to Allison and the sight they'd discovered earlier with the cuffs and collar. Patrick's face had darkened even further.

  It was normal and even expected behavior for her friends—from her at least. Their comments were nothing out of the ordinary, and yes, uncouth and very crude. She'd grown accustomed to them over time. In fact, she expected it, knowing they only teased her because they knew she could take it. Never would she ask them to censor themselves just because Patrick happened to be in the room. Nor had she expected him to join in unless he'd chosen to do so. He was too much of a gentleman to do that.

  And that, she guessed, was exactly the problem.

  She pushed away from the couch and tapped Patrick on the shoulder. “Hey guys, go on without us for a little bit. I need to talk to Patrick alone.”

  “Which is code for don't mind the noises from the kitchen for a few minutes while I let my Master have sex with me,” Mark said just loud enough for everyone to hear and they all snorted in response.

  Everyone, except Patrick.

  Allison watched as he curled his hands into fists as he stood over her friends and grabbed him in order to pull him out of the room. The pocket door shut with a sharp snap as she closed it and automatically pressed a hand to his arm for comfort.

  “Hey, are you okay?” Anger lit the blue in his irises and she tightened her hand around his arm. “Patrick.”

  “I'm fine.”

  From the tone of his voice, she knew it was an outright lie. It bothered her that he couldn't be more forthcoming. “What's the problem?”

  “I didn't know you invited me over here to listen to a bunch of insults,” he said hotly, the muscles of his arm flexed under her fingers.

  She removed her hand and crossed her arms in front of her. “Patrick, these are my friends.”

  “Then you're friends with a bunch of assholes.” He crossed his arms, mirrored her defensive position as he gestured to the living room with his chin.

  “As are most men in my experience.” Gauging the expression on his face, he wasn't pleased with her choice of company. Funny thing was, she wasn't happy with his behavior. Right now, he reminded her of some overbearing ass who pouted when he didn't get his way.

  “They don't treat you as you should be treated.”

  She could tell from his steely gaze, he was genuinely pissed off about the way her friends had talked. The hair lifted on the back of her neck as warning bells sounded in her head. This wasn't the sort of behavior she'd expected from him. It flew in the face of the whole gentleman persona she'd spent time with. “And how's that?”

  He reached for her, wrapped his hands around her upper arms before pulling her closer. The force of his grip surprised her and she tried to shake his hand off. “You aren't one of them.”

  This was one thing she would stand up for. “My friends aren't new additions in my life like you are. And I don't appreciate your tone about all of this either. There are certainly some things I'm willing to give concession to you for, especially when I'm down on my knees for you.” She narrowed her eyes as she stepped back and shook off his hands. “Yes, I am like them, Patrick. The only difference between us is I don't have a dick. On all other playing fields, I'm equal. I'm just as smart as they are, if not more so in some instances.”

  “Their comments say otherwise.”

  “I'm used to their comments because they don't mean them. To them, I'm just me and I told you that when we first started seeing each other.”

  “It shouldn't be that way,” he said in defiance.

  The temper she'd kept at bay flared to life and balled her fists at her sides. “So what—they should collar and cuff me? Put me on my knees before them so I can suck their pecker? Funny, I thought you were the only one who held that honor.” She could tell from his glare that she hit a nerve. Good, he deserved it after his insistence on how he thought they should treat her. She may have been his submissive, but she still had a spine and damn well knew how to use it.

  “Yes, my proclivities during sex are a little out of the norm for most people, but in no way have I ever made you feel as if you were anything less.”

  His statement caused her to freeze and she stared at him in utter amazement. He stared her down and she blew out a heavy breath in defeat. He's oblivious. Her chest burned with both anger and heartache. Everything had been so right, so perfect between them and now the shattered remains lay on the floor between them. “You're right, Patrick, you never have. But you're certainly doing a damn good job of it right now.”

  She spun on her heel and stormed from the room. It didn't matter if he was there when she came back—if she even did.

  No one spoke as she threw herself over the back of the couch and slid the headset into place over her ears. Tears burned hot at the back of her eyes and she refused to break down in front of everyone, especially not a room full of men. They'd undoubtedly heard the argument given the fact only a thin door separated the kitchen and living room. However, she refused to acknowledge the press of the words that still hung in the air. If she did, the weight of them would hit her even harder and she didn't think she could stand it.

  Cooper gave a yell as he confronted someone else in the game they'd been on the search for and everyone's attention turned back to the television set. She forced herself to focus on the task at hand, but made mistakes better suited for a newbie.

  Her head snapped around at the sound of the front door closing and she fumbled the controller. There was a loud crash as it hit the coffee table and she gave a sheepish smile as everyone looked at her. She couldn't get her mouth to work to find the words to apologize.

  “Allison—” Mark started but stopped mid-sentence when he saw her expression.


  Four pairs of eyes looked at her expectedly and she suddenly rediscovered the muscles that made her vocal chords work. “Sorry, I must have butter-fingers tonight.” The controller's smooth surface slid into her palm as she closed her hand around it and used it as an anchor.

  Breathe dammit, this isn't the first time a man has left you. She gritted her teeth and forced herself not to think about what had just happened. To not picture the simmering fury that had clouded those stunning blue eyes of his.

  Does it have to hurt this much?

  “We can hold off on this until next week.”

  The pity evident in Scott's voice and her wildly swirling emotions, angered her. What she didn't want right now was for them to feel sorry for her. She brushed away the argument with Patrick and forced herself to focus on the game. “Let's do this.”

  For the next two hours, with her concentration shot to hell, she never was able to focus solely on the mission they'd set out on for the night. Her friends seemed to understand and compensated for her lack of awareness without a word. They even made sure they never abandoned her completely. Even Tony stepped in on a few skirmishes when she floundered. It was completely uncharacteristic of her. She'd never gamed this badly and as the night wore on, her mood deteriorated further.

  Exhausted from the emotional upheaval, she didn't last as long as she would have liked and everyone reassured her that it wasn't a big deal. They made plans to get together on Tuesday night and try again. As she shut and locked the front door, she blew out a relieved breath.

  She made it to her bedroom before she broke.

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  * * *

  Chapter Seventeen

  Allison stood in front of her building a week after the incident in her cottage and stared at the dark storm clouds that hung in the sky. Granted, it was nearly June and spring showers were expected this time of year, but did it really have to pour today?

  Since that night, she'd taken the longer way to work so she didn't have to pass Perfect Shot. The circuitous route made the walk twenty minutes longer, but the last thing she wanted to do right now was run into Patrick. The normal route would take her right past the wide, panoramic windows of the coffeehouse.

  The heavy rainfall this morning would make the longer walk completely miserable. Even with an umbrella, she'd be soaked to the bone by the time she got a block away from her home. There were no other options this morning and would have to suck it up. She gritted her teeth and forced herself to turn in that direction.

  It wasn't really the fact she didn't want to see him that kept her away from normal routine and her usual cup of coffee. She just wasn't sure what to say to him if they did run into each other. Still hurt and confused, she'd outright ignored his phone call and subsequent voice mail. It was an avoidance tactic and not something she usually did, but felt as if she had no other choice. He'd stepped over the line and she wasn't going to stand for it.

  Her pace automatically slowed as she approached the brightly lit window of the establishment. Unable to resist, she glanced in the window as she started to pass. It appeared as if her worry had been for nothing because he wasn't behind the counter at all. Instead, a short redhead worked the long line of customers already stacked at six in the morning.

  Something's wrong.

  The sudden surge of panic made her scramble through the front door and fight her way to the counter. She ignored the customers as they complained. “Where are Patrick and Nick?” she demanded after reaching the counter.

  The redhead's brilliant green eyes blinked in surprise. “Well good morning to you too.”

  Allison frowned and ordered herself to settle down. She had no right to demand so much from this woman. But the immediate thought of something so wrong that neither Patrick nor Nick had opened the store this morning caught her off guard. “I'm looking for them. Where are they?”

  “Funny from what I understand, you've been doing a bang up job of avoiding one of them, so your rush to know seems a little misplaced.” For a few seconds, it became a staring contest neither woman wanted to lose. One of the customers in line loudly cleared his throat and the redhead gave a resigned sigh. She reached behind her for a ceramic cup, filled it with the house blend and pushed the steaming cup of coffee across the counter.

  “Everything's fine. Go have a seat and when things have calmed down, I'll explain everything. Deal?” She moved off before Allison had a chance to respond.

  Since she'd already made a huge ass of herself, she pushed away from the counter with a nod. An overstuffed chair in a corner of the shop cupped around her as she tapped out a quick email to her boss. Time to take a personal day. Stephen usually referred to the lost time as a sanity day and he actually preferred his employees take them occasionally just to keep everyone from going a little loopy. Their work was stressful and technical, both things that could get the best of you if allowed. Her attitude hadn't been the best at work recently and he would probably be quite pleased to hear she'd followed his advice.

  The coffee was hot and strong, exactly the way she liked it. She really missed this piece of her daily routine. The crappy instant coffee she'd relied on lately couldn't come close to the custom blend Perfect Shot served.

  The change of plans gave her an opportunity to watch the woman behind the counter work. The redhead gave off an air of authority, but not one that put people off. She didn't demand the attention, she just had it. She exuded it as if it were simply a part of her. It surprised Allison, given the woman's small stature. Her movements were so efficient and precise it was evident she'd spent some time behind a coffee bar and was no novice when it came to the preparation of coffee.

  Why in the world hadn't Nick just let this woman handle things instead of Patrick that first week? Granted, the computer system would have still been an issue, but she may not have had to jump in and help Patrick.

  It was then Allison realized if things had gone differently, she wouldn't have met him. There were things she would have never learned about herself and wasn't sure if she wanted to take those steps backward and not be the person she was right at this very moment. Despite her confusion about the current situation, he'd made an enormous impact on her life in a very short period of time. It left a lasting impression.

  She would certainly never look at sex the same way again.

  Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a chair pulled next to hers and the woman behind the counter settled herself comfortably in the seat. She'd removed the Perfect Shot apron and wore a pair of perfectly cut slacks and a shiny shirt. Bit high class for a simple barista. That thought solidified further, when Allison saw the two-inch heels on the woman's feet.

  The hollow feeling in the pit of her stomach returned. This was the kind of woman Patrick deserved. Not some computer geek who split her weekends between binge gaming and comic book stores. Her wardrobe consisted of cargo pants, logo shirts and sneakers. Not the high-end type of things this woman obviously kept in her closet.

  “So, I assume you're Allison? Elena Mitchell.” Allison's coffee cup halted in mid-air and nearly choked on air as she inhaled sharply in surprise. Elena grinned and flipped her hair over her shoulder. “I see you've heard of me.”

  Allison used a napkin to wipe her mouth and nodded. This was not what she'd expected when Patrick had described the woman who had orgy parties at Sanctuary. “You could say that.”

  “Good things, I hope. Now before you grill me anymore about what's going on, the Conners boys are fine.” Elena's expression softened as she settled back in the chair and crossed her legs. “I don't know if you're aware, but their mother took a tumble down her front porch a few nights ago. She runs a boarding house just outside of Staunton that caters to travelers who don't want the coldness of a hotel room and don't want to pay the prices of most of the bed and breakfasts around here.”

  “Is she okay?” Allison's stomach sank at the thought of something horrific despite the fact she'd never met the woman.


  Elena gave a bark of laughter as she tapped her fist against the arm of the chair. “I dare say she is. Fell down and broke her ankle while trying to get frisky with her boyfriend after a date. I can only hope to be as spry and randy as she is at that age. She was released from the hospital today and Nick said they'll be home in a day or so after they get her settled. As much as I don't mind doing favors for them—and don't take this as I'm complaining—I hope they get back soon. I can only handle so much of this foam and steaming. No one ever has a plain, old cup of coffee anymore.”

  Allison nodded in agreement and something about the woman warmed her. Elena seemed like the type who insisted the brothers go when they probably balked at the thought that they couldn't leave their business. “Seems as if you're right at home.”

  “Only because I use to pull the graveyard shift as a waitress to put myself through college.” Elena took a delicate sip of coffee and smiled at Allison over the rim of the cup. “What's wrong?”

  “I just...never expected you to be so—”

  “Normal? One does have to work to support their indulgences.” Elena flipped her hair over her shoulder again and leaned forward. “Now, why are you in such a rush to find Patrick?”

  “I'm not. I panicked when I saw you working instead of Nick or Patrick.”

  Elena tapped a perfectly polished nail against her cup. “Ah, but you panicked and if that doesn't scream you're in love, I don't know what does. And think very hard before you deny it and dirty what it is the two of you have found.”

  Allison stared at the finger now pointed directly at her and saw the woman Patrick described. Sure the exterior was still there, but there was now an air of authority that crackled around them. This woman knew exactly how to garner the right kind of attention and how to handle it when she got it. Allison envied someone who could do that and swallowed hard as she set her empty cup down on the table between them. Elena was right—lying about her emotional reaction was uncalled for and unnecessary. “I won't deny it.”