Her words rung true, but the lust in me didn't give two shits. I wanted her, and if the way she'd grabbed me, the feel of her pressed against me was any indication, she wanted me just as bad.
I stepped up, barely an inch between us. My eyes fel to her chest heaving up and down.
Through her sheer blouse I saw the knot of her nipples through the fabric. It was frosty out, but I refused to believe that was the reason for her swol en peaks. Our attraction was tangible. My desire for her just wouldn't let this slide.
"You want me."
"No," she said weakly.
I stepped closer, her body brushing mine. It was a tease, one that made my mouth water. But I wanted to hear her say it. "You want me. Admit it."
"No," she repeated, but she didn't push me away either.
With a grunt I pinned her to the car. Her sharp intake of breath made my cock thump in my pants. "You feel that?" With the way we stood, the curve of me lay hardened and throbbing against her lower abdomen. From the way she bit her lip, I knew she could. "I want you--and I know you want me."
"No," she said a third time, but when I leaned down, she ran her fingers through my hair and brought me back in. My tongue dove into her mouth, running up and down the length of hers, creating a cyclone of need that only the other could fulfil .
I slowed my kisses then trailed my lips over ‘til they grazed her earlobe. "Say it."
"I want you," she moaned. Her hand fel to the crotch of my pants and she groped at my erection.
Al bets were off now. "I have the Escalade. We could go around back-" When I saw the shocked look on her face, I remedied it. "Or to the park. Or my place, if you'd like."
She shook her head and took the hand that she'd jerked with and pushed me back. Not playful y. Like she meant business.
I kicked myself. I'd just been so into it, into the idea of being with her. I'd probably insulted her with the idea of hooking up in the backseat. Like a couple of teenagers. Or a prostitute and her john. "I wasn't trying to disrespect you-"
"I know," she said solemnly. She breathed in and out, the breath shooting from her lips like steam. "I disrespected myself."
"Ebony-"
She held up a hand to cut me off. "Right or wrong, I have a boyfriend. And you work for his father. I'm not gonna fuck you in the backseat of the car you ride around town in, doing what you do." She squared her shoulders. "What just happened between us? Forget it happened. It can never happen again."
My pride let her walk away and get into the car. I watched her reverse and pul from the space, driving away from me. Away from what we’d done—what we could have done.
"Stupid," I said aloud. “Fucking idiot.” I couldn't let myself get caught up with her. Me and Ebony hooking up spel ed trouble for the whole damn case. And that bastard Max…what would he do to her if he found out?
I ran a shaky hand through my hair and popped the col ar of my coat as I turned and walked to the SUV at the end of the lot. Forget it happened. It was for the best. For both our sakes.
7
EBONY
Liani's dark eyes went wide, and in her shock, everything else went silent. Al the chatter at the tables around us in the dining hal , the scrapes of silverware, the zing and beep of the cash register and card reader a few feet away. It was like the whole world was taking a breath.
Letting the craziness digest.
"You did WHAT?"
I dropped my gaze to my oatmeal, stirring the globs as shame built in my gut. "We kissed."
"You and Mr. Tal , Dark, and Handsome?"
I winced at her nickname for him. I'd known that he was earning residence in her spank bank as soon as she got him in her sights at BRisque al those weeks ago. I'd fielded questions from her, trying to not lash out and remember that my bestie dealt with stress by getting under someone new. And her mother was getting worse every day--and based on the heated convos that filtered from her room, the insurance company was sick of footing the bil .
I scooped up a spoonful and shoveled it in my mouth, swallowing it. I needed to eat something, even though guilt and worry robbed me of my appetite.
"But the way you acted when I brought him up..." Liani tucked a dark strand behind her ear and gave me a confused look, furrowed brow and al . "'He's too old.’ and ‘You know what he does for a living?’'" She shook her head. "You were so against the very thought of him. Was that al an act?"
I slumped a little in my seat. "Maybe.” Beat. “Yes."
"Fuck, Ebony!" she hissed.
I cried out when she leaned over and pinched me. "What was that for?"
"One, I'm your best friend,” she ragged. “There aren't supposed to be secrets between you and me! And two, what about Max?"
I rubbed the bridge of my nose. "Trust me, I wanted someone to talk to about this as soon as I realized I couldn't get Demetrius out of my head, but you've got bigger problems than my soap opera-ish life."
"True," she snorted, stirring her coffee. "But that doesn't change the fact that Max Kournikova isn't a guy you want to cheat on. I mean, you're in for something a little worse than the facebook snub and the stink eye when you guys cross paths on campus."
I pul ed up the hood of my sweatshirt and let out a moan. "You're preaching to the choir."
My dreams had been ful of car chases and bul ets and blood, which was a damn shame because when I was awake, I couldn't seem to get the feel of Demetrius lips on mine out of my head.
"What are you gonna do?"
I crossed my arms. "It was just a kiss, Liani. We both agreed it was a mistake and one that can't happen again. Disaster averted."
"Girl, please," she scoffed. "That bit may work when you're trying to convince yourself, but I know you. And I saw the way you looked when you were giving me blow by blow of that kiss."
I nibbled on my lip, trying to seem nonchalant. "Don't know what you're talking about."
"Your face lit up," she said pointedly. "Like, end of semester, home stretch happy. You were on cloud nine. And I haven't seen you that happy since wel -" She leaned in, lowering her tone. "Way before you started seeing Max."
The truth of her words stung, but if I had to make it real, if Max and the whole world had to buy it, I had to convince myself. "You're wrong. Demetrius doesn't mean anything to me.
Nothing at al ."
"Oh real y?" She sat back in her seat and tossed her curtain of dark hair over her shoulder. "So imagine Max finding out--and blowing Demetrius brains out."
"That's not funny."
"I'm not laughing," she said seriously. "And as hard as Max tries to pretend he's just a frat boy with a heart of gold and a penchant for blowing up at anyone that looks at you sideways, we both know that he, or his father, is more than capable of kil ing Demetrius. No more Demetrius. No more kisses. Game over."
The thought of it flayed me. I couldn't hide the wave of emotion that slammed into me, so I just dropped my head in my hands. "What do I do? I don't want him to get hurt. And I definitely don't want to end up on a milk carton."
Liani swiped her cel and glanced at the screen before gathering her things on the tray.
"Wel , for starters, you need to work on being a hel uva lot more convincing that you're as cold as ice and he means jack shit to you." She rose to her feet. "And for god sakes, no more kissing. Unless you have some sort of exit strategy." She cocked her head toward the tray return. "I've got Bio. See you back at the apartment?"
I gave her a weak nod. "See you later."
She left me alone with my thoughts, just me, my bowl of slop, and my guilty conscience, that was alarmingly not so guilty.
"Exit strategy," I whispered, mul ing it over. I'd been trying to figure out a way to end things with me and Max anyway. The thought of being with Demetrius, without the threat of bodily harm hanging over our heads, definitely put a fire under me.
I pul ed out my phone, my hand shaking as I scrol ed through my contacts.
If you need anything, anything at al ...
> I’d acted cold as ice, barely even looking at the smal card he’d given me as I’d stormed to my side of the car. It wasn’t until I’d created a safe distance that I pul ed off the side of the road and put my car in park, crying until my body was dry.
There was no name on the smal card, only a number. I brought the phone to my ear and found the rational part in me, hoping he’d see the unfamiliar number and let it ring. I prepared to shut the phone off, breathing a sigh of relief at the silence.
Wait. Silence. That meant...
“This is Demetrius.” His deep voice drawled through the phone, as comforting as his kiss.
“D-Demetrius? It’s me.” I steadied my hand. “Ebony.”
There was a pause before he answered. “Hel o.”
“Hi.”
“Is everything okay, Ebony?”
“Y-Yes. Of course it is.”
“Hmm,” he grunted. “I just figured after the last time we talked, after what happened, that I wouldn’t be hearing from you.”
There was something in his voice that made my request an easier one to make. “Do you think I can see you? To talk?” The pause reverberating from his end made my heart drop to the pit of my stomach. “Are you there?”
“Are you sure?” he asked after a moment.
I wasn’t real y. The thought of seeing him sent everything into overdrive. But I needed to talk to him, to put whatever this was into perspective. I needed to talk to someone that could understand why I had to end things with Max.
“I’m sure, Demetrius,” I said, hoping I sounded more sure than I felt. “I’m sure.”
****
TONY/DEMETRIUS
I don't get nervous. First dates, public speaking, interviews--I barely break a sweat.
Maybe it has something to do with my mother. I was seven or eight and we were at some grocery store and the numbers weren't adding up. My mother only knew a handful of words in English, but since she did my father's books back in the old country, numbers were her thing. I remember seeing her face, scrunched in confusion and frustration as she tried to explain that something was wrong to the harried checkout girl. The nerves bundled in my stomach as the line behind us stretched longer. I stole glances at the people stacked one by one, each one more annoyed than the last.
When my mother let out a string of curse words under her breath, finishing with manager, my cheeks had burned as she gripped my hand and pul ed me to the service desk.
The manager had been a weasly looking man with thick, dark brows that wiggled like caterpil ars. I translated for my mother. Nervous. Embarrassed. I wanted to sink into the floor.
And when the man turned his back and cal ed her a bitch to a worker that was standing nearby, gawking at the scene, I remember she'd asked me to translate. I'd dropped my head, refusing to repeat the word.
She'd yanked me from the store, leaving our cart in front of the service desk. When we got into the car, she turned around.
"I know what that man said," she said quietly in clipped Spanish. “¿ Por qué no dices algo?”
I shrugged.
" Estaba avergonzado," she said, reading me like an open book. " Yo estaba avergonzado."
I looked up at her in shock. She'd seemed so fearless.
" Incluso si tienes miedo, tienes que ser valiente." She started the engine and turn.
" Nunca muestran debilidad. No les permita ganar.”
Even when the captain let me know that he was sending someone back under with the Kournikova family, even though the last guy was sent back in pieces, I was calm, cool and col ected.
But when I opened my apartment door and saw Ebony standing there, it wasn't easy to put on my brave face and be strong. Especially when I saw the low cut black blouse beneath her jacket, the sheer fabric showing her leopard print bra below. My voice rattled as she sauntered in, her thick legs wrapped in skin tight jeans and combat boots.
I didn't know what made me more nervous, the memory of what she tasted like, or the fact that doing what I wanted to do with her jeopardized my whole case.
I scooped up the pile of newspapers on the couch, the hair on the back of my neck standing up when I got a whiff of her perfume. The vanil a notes sent waves of ache over me.
"H-Have a seat."
She gave me a guarded smile. “Thanks.” She peeled off her coat and folded it, holding it awkwardly.
"I'l take that." When she handed it over, my eyes roamed over her ample breasts. I snapped my eyes back to her face. She was a beautiful woman, surely well versed in the effect she had on men. But I didn't want to be one of the pack. I was a storm of want, fighting the urge to strip her bare and have my way. But she'd come over to talk about what happened at the coffee shop. And based on the placid grins and her rigid posture, she didn't come over to pick up where we left off.
I felt awkward just standing, wringing my hands, so I turned toward the kitchen. "Let me grab you something to drink. I have water, or if you prefer something a little stronger-"
"Actual y, could you just sit down with me for a minute?” she asked quickly. “I want to get this off my chest."
I couldn’t help but smile at the irony of our situation in comparison to the first time we met. Now she was the strong confident one and I the jittery bundle of nerves.
I obliged her, not trusting myself to sit too close to her on the sofa and settling in the armchair. Once I was down, I noticed that her show of strength was a big a ruse as my own--her hands shook furiously as she began to unload.
"Did you know Max and I have been only dating for three months?"
I did, but I had a feeling it was a rhetorical question so I let her press on.
"Three months," she said softly. "And I've seen him beat a handful of people bloody, and two nearly unconscious." She shook her head. "I know it's only a matter of time until I say the wrong thing, look at him the wrong way and then I..." She let it trail off and the pain in her voice made the man in me want to tear Max Kournikova a new one. But she looked so weary, like she'd diffused too many bombs. Seen too much blood. If I wanted her love, if I wanted to save her, I had to use something other than my fists.
"Ebony," I began. "I-"
"Wait," she interjected firmly. Her chin was strong and her voice came around. "Let me finish while I hhave it in me."
I nodded.
"I know he's a bad person." She gave me an uncompromising look. "And I know his father is ten times worse, and that by staying, I'm saying I'm fine with the whole hot mess." She bal ed her fists and pounded her thighs with a grunt of frustration. “I'm not okay with it. Not at al .
But I'm afraid."
Fear. That was an emotion I was intimately familiar with. It bubbled in my gut every time I drove past the meat processing plant. It made my throat close every time Nikolai threw me a deep, pensive look. At any moment, my cover could go to shit and it was game over.
But she was too young, too beautiful, too ful of promise to carry that weight. I wouldn't let her.
"You shouldn’t be afraid." I said, putting on a brave face for her. "I think the kid cares too much about you to do you harm."
She let out a bitter chuckle, toying with a dark strand, making a noose with her polished fingers. "That's just the thing--he cares about me, but I care about someone else."
Her words sent a fire to my cheeks, the heat of want spreading out and gripping my heart and somewhere decidedly…lower. "Oh real y?"
Her eyes became onyx and I saw the heat reflected back in me in the dark pools. Her thick lips parted and al she needed was to say the word and--
I gave my head a furious shake. Jesus Christ. No. No. We couldn’t do this.
I pushed to my feet, needing more distance to keep myself from doing something that both of us couldn’t begin to recover from. Because if just kissing her made me lose control, what would moving inside her hot flesh do to me?
I pul ed out a jug of water from the fridge. Fuck a cup. I just threw it back, hoping the clear liquid would squelch
the need in me. When I put the counter down on the counter and gripped it tight, I knew what she wanted to hear. With my back to her, it was easy for desires to become words and the words to come spil ing out.
"I care about you too, Ebony," I said after a moment. "You have no idea how much I wanted to see you after the coffee shop, to be able to admit that this wasn’t just a dream or some sil y crush. To admit that what's going on between us is something." My confession stal ed. "That you're something." Everything. "That this-"
"-Was something I've been dreaming about?"
I stiffened when the floor creaked behind me. She'd fol owed me into the kitchen. I didn't turn. I didn't move--I knew if I moved an inch and she didn't deny me, al bets were off.
And then she touched my shoulder.
“You shouldn’t do that,” I said brusquely. Wel , I meant it to come out brusquely and unaffected. Instead, it sounded like a plea.
Her voice countered me, soft as a caress. “I shouldn’t?”
“R-Right,” I said, my voice ragged. I dug deep to find control and came up empty. How was it that I could sit by while I drove Nikolai around town, threatening people within an inch of their life and do it with mechanical indifference but in her presence, feel like everything had a mind of its own? My heart thundered in my chest, my throat was dry, my cock strained against its prison, longing for the release it’d find in her.
“If we go back down this road, I don’t know if I’l be able to stop,” I whispered. I wheeled to face her. And I don’t want to.
“Good,” she answered with a smile, reading my mind. “I don’t want you to.”
Without another word, I scooped her in my arms. The nearness of her, body pressed to mine, sent me reeling. Free fal ing. Damn the consequences.
“Demetrius,” she moaned. “Demetrius, Demetrius…” She repeated my name over and over, like a prayer. Like my mouth consuming hers was her salvation. But she was mine. Her beauty, her kindness, her conscience—it reminded me that there was good in the world. That I deserved something good. I deserved her.
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