by Lane Hart
“How? How do I do that? I don’t want to go on with my life without her in it! Doesn’t she understand that?”
Now he’s getting angry. I try to recall all the stages of grief and hope for his sake that acceptance will be next.
“Yelling isn’t going to change things, man,” his brother Steven tells him.
“What else can I do but yell!” he shouts at him. “My fiancée just broke up with me and wouldn’t even tell me so herself!”
“Don’t be pissed at Tessa,” Steven says. “Be pissed at those assholes who took her. This is their fault. Just give her some time to heal. That’s what she needs now more than you.” Turning to me, Steven asks, “Is there any news? Have the police found them yet?”
“Ah, not that I know of,” I reply even though I’m rooting for the Savage Kings to get to those bastards first. That way Tessa will know for sure that they will never hurt her again. They’ll be dead with no chance of appeals or parole.
“Well, I’m sure you’ll let us know if and when they’re caught,” Steven says. “For now, we better get on the road and get home.”
“I’m sorry,” I say again. “I wish…I wish this never happened.”
“Yeah, so do I!” Paul yells. “And it wouldn’t have if you hadn’t brought her to this goddamn town!”
As soon as he puts all the blame squarely on my shoulders, he storms over and picks up his luggage before walking out the door, letting the screen slam behind him.
“He doesn’t mean that,” Steven tells me after he’s gone.
“Sure he does. It’s my fault. I agree.”
“No, it’s not, Charlotte. Paul is just looking for someone to be angry with, and you were standing right in front of him.”
“I never meant for this to happen,” I say as my chin trembles.
“I know. He knows that,” Steven says when he wraps his arms around me in a hug. “Take care of yourself, okay? I know you’ll look after Tessa, but someone needs to look after you too.”
I nod my agreement before he pulls away. “Someone will,” I assure him, because I have no doubt that Roman will be there for me.
Roman
* * *
I head home earlier than usual in the afternoon, eager to see Charlotte, who I know will be waiting for me. I can’t wait to see her after being away from her all day. I missed her. It’s ridiculous but true. And while the circumstances for why she’s staying in town aren’t great and I wouldn’t wish them on my worst enemy, I’m still glad she’s here.
After years of watching her from afar, checking up on her surreptitiously, I’m finally able to get a chance to talk to her as much as I want and to see her up close. To kiss her and touch her.
I park my bike in the garage next to Charlotte’s car, then close the doors before I go over to try the doorknob that leads into the house to see if she remembered to lock up when she got home. She did, which is a relief. I live in one of the wealthiest, safest neighborhoods in town; but after what happened to Tessa and the other girls, nowhere feels entirely secure.
“Hey, it’s me!” I call out as I take the steps up to the kitchen so that I don’t sneak up and scare her, even though she probably heard the garage door open and my bike rumbling inside.
“Hey,” Charlotte says in greeting from where she’s sitting in one of the chairs at the dining table, working on a bottle of wine with the glass to her lips.
“Rough day?” I ask before grabbing a bottle of beer from the fridge and taking it over to join her at the table.
“You have no idea,” she mutters before refilling her glass when I take a seat across from her.
“Tessa okay?”
“Tessa is…adamant that she’s not only calling off her wedding but that she doesn’t want to be with Paul.”
“Wow,” I mutter while taking a sip of beer. I may have only talked to the little rich dude a few times, but it was obvious he loved Tessa and was worried sick for her.
“And I was the lucky soul who had to break the news to him,” Charlotte adds. “I’m not upset with Tessa for putting me in that position. I would do anything she asked of me, literally anything. It’s just…Paul was devastated. And he had questions that I couldn’t give him an explanation to. Or hope. I had no hope to give him that Tessa will one day change her mind.”
“Do you think she will one day change her mind?” I ask.
“I don’t know,” Charlotte replies between sips of her wine. Actually, I think gulps would be a more accurate description of how she’s chugging the liquid down. “What if she doesn’t change her mind and she never gets her happily ever after because of what happened?”
“That would be awful,” I agree. “And while I don’t know Tessa very well, I get the feeling she’s a tough girl who can overcome this with time. Hopefully.”
“Hopefully,” Charlotte agrees. “But what if she doesn’t?”
“Let’s not go down the pessimistic road just yet,” I suggest. “What do you say I fire up the hot tub and we try to soak away some of your worries?”
“I can’t. I can’t relax with you half naked in a tub or stop worrying!” she says through a few hiccups that tell me she’s three sheets to the wind.
“Why can’t you?” I ask.
“Because it’s not fair! Life is not fair. And that’s not…that’s not…” Now she’s crying.
“Fair?” I offer.
“That’s the one,” she agrees with an emphatic nod before pouring the last of the wine in her glass down her throat. When she goes to refill it again, I jump up and take the bottle from her hand gently. It’s nearly empty and that’s not a pessimist view, it’s just the truth, not much more than three sips remaining.
“What are you doing? Give me back my wine!”
“I think you’ve had enough for tonight. If you don’t stop now, you’re gonna have a horrible hangover and not feel like going to see Tessa tomorrow. And that will only make you more depressed.”
“True. Very true. Sometimes…you’re a very wise man, Roman.”
“Well, I try,” I joke. After throwing the bottle away, I go and sit back down at the table where Charlotte now has her head resting on her arms.
“I’m exhausted,” she mutters. “But I don’t need sleep. I’m just…mentally exhausted.”
“Come on, let’s go sit in some warm bubbly water…” I tell her when I go over and ease her out of her seat by her elbow.
“You’ve got bubbly?” she asks.
“Bubbly water.”
When I guide her out of the sliding glass door to the wooden deck, she sees the hot tub and says, “I didn’t bring a bathing suit because it’s April. Who wears a bathing suit in April?”
“There’s no one around to see us, so I think we’re safe to go in wearing just our underwear.”
“If you say so,” Charlotte agrees quicker than I expected. A second later, she’s pulling her shirt over her head, tossing it across the deck and then shoving her jeans down her legs.
“Oh, this feels so good,” she says as she sinks down into the water. “Just what I needed.”
“Good. I thought so. It helps you wind down after a stressful day,” I tell her as I remove my cut and hang it over one of the patio chairs. Reaching behind my back, I pull my tee up and off, then start to work on undoing my jeans. When they and my shoes are gone, I look up and find Charlotte is staring at me with her lips parted, her cheeks red from the warm water and probably all the wine she drank.
“You feeling okay?” I ask her.
“Sure,” she replies, barely blinking. When I start to climb over into the tub, she asks, “Why don’t you take your boxer briefs off too?”
“I should probably keep them on,” I reply. “You want to take things slow, remember? And if I’m naked and you’re sitting there looking like that, I’m not sure I can keep my hands off of you.”
“Maybe I don’t want you to keep your hands off of me.”
I sink down into the bubbles, taking a seat. “That�
�s drunk Charlotte talking,” I point out. “Tomorrow, you would hate me for pushing you, and I would hate myself for taking advantage. So, I’m going to sit over here, and you’re going to sit over there.”
She pokes her bottom lip out in a very un-Charlotte move. “You’re exhausting.”
“I’m exhausting?” I repeat with a grin because she’s drunk and cute.
“Do you want me or not?”
“Of course I want you. I thought I had made that very clear.”
“Good,” she says before she swims over and then straddles my lap, angling her pussy right above my cock that is really loving the way she feels. Her lips brush mine and she whispers, “Fuck me.”
“Not tonight,” I say when I lift her up and sit her in the seat next to me.
“Please?” she asks, climbing right back on top of me before I even return to my own seat.
“Charlotte,” I groan, and thankfully she takes the hint, standing up. But she doesn’t back away. Instead, her hands disappear under the water; and when they reappear, they’re holding her dripping panties.
“Baby, put those back on,” I plead. She’s not making this easy on me. Instead of doing as I asked, she tosses them onto the deck and then takes her bra off and sends it flying, leaving her standing before me in waist deep water topless. “You’re killing me,” I tell her. And when she climbs right back up on my lap, her heavy tits are right in front of my face, nipples hard and begging for my mouth or hands to do bad things to them. My cock is now so hard that it’s about to escape the dick hole in my boxer briefs. And fuck, do I want it to escape and find its way inside of this sexy woman, but I can’t. Not tonight. I know Charlotte better than drunk Charlotte knows herself. And so, when her mouth crashes down on mine, her tongue giving me a dirty kiss full of promise, I keep my hands locked on her hips to try and keep them still and to keep me from touching her everywhere else.
“Roman?” Charlotte asks against my lips.
“Yeah?”
“I want you inside of me. I want you to make me feel good even though I shouldn’t.”
“I can’t tonight,” I tell her, and her bottom lip comes poking out again.
“Please? I’m hurting.”
Great. How am I supposed to tell her no when she says she’s aching for me? I know the sensation so well that I can even ignore my blue balls most of the time.
“Roman?” Charlotte grabs my right wrist that’s holding her hip and urges it lower. And I’m so weak for this woman I let her guide my hand between her legs. “Oh god, yes, right there!”
Hearing her moans makes me snap. I keep the hand between her legs, working her over while my other grabs the side of her face to bring her mouth down to mine. I know she’s drunk and will probably hate herself for throwing herself at me tonight, or maybe not remember it at all, but I know I will. I’ll give her the orgasm she needs, but that’s where I draw the line. I may hurt for weeks after not getting any relief of my own, but it will be worth it.
Charlotte
* * *
The next morning, I wake up to the room spinning. It takes a few minutes for me to get my eyes to stay open long enough to figure out what room I’m even in.
“Morning, sunshine!” Roman says, or more like yells the greeting, making my head throb and reminding me I’m at his house and in his bedroom. “How did you sleep?”
I blink my eyes open to find him standing at the foot of his bed, fully dressed in jeans and his leather cut, curly hair still damp from a shower, looking too good to be real.
“Like…like a dead woman,” I answer despite cotton mouth making it more difficult than usual.
“Not surprised. You snored.”
“Snored?” I repeat in disbelief.
“Yep. Loudly. Kept waking me up.”
Oh great. How humiliating that I’m not only a guest of this gorgeous man’s but I woke him up snoring. I just want to dig a hole and bury myself in it. But since that’s not an option at the moment, I decide to pull the covers over my head until he leaves. That’s when I notice a distinct lack of clothing on my body – as in none!
“Where are my clothes?” I exclaim when I jerk the covers down and my hair blows all in my face.
“You took them off,” Roman replies. “You don’t remember getting naked in the hot tub?”
“No!”
“You did. Then you kept climbing up on me, begging me to take my boxer briefs off and fuck you.”
“No, I didn’t,” I gasp as I sit up in bed while clutching the sheets to my bare chest. I can’t believe Roman has seen me completely naked! So much for Adam being the only man who has seen all of my flesh…
“You did.”
“Oh,” I reply since Roman isn’t a liar, a fact I’m certain of. “And? Did we…you know?” I ask as I comb my hair out of my burning red face.
“No, we didn’t,” he responds, which is a relief. “Well, we did stuff, but we didn’t fuck. I knew you were drunk and not thinking straight.”
“So, what exactly did we do?” I ask him.
“That…is something you’ll have to remember on your own,” he responds with a grin. “If you can’t, then it’s like it never happened; right?”
“But something did happen?”
“Oh, yeah. Something happened all right. You were persistent, and despite my repeated refusals, I eventually caved.”
“You refused and yet I kept asking…”
“I wouldn’t say ask. More like begged,” he says smugly. “Now, I would love to stay and torture you a little longer with all the details, but I have to get to work. See you later?”
“Unless I dissolve into a huge puddle of embarrassment before then.”
“Don’t be too hard on yourself,” Roman says with a chuckle. “You’ve gone through a lot lately and are worried about Tessa. So what if you drank a little too much and let loose? Only you and I were there.”
“You were there. I was…not in my right mind apparently.”
Chuckling, Roman says, “I knew you would react this way, so I’m glad I kept my hands to myself. Mostly. I did put one where you demanded it…” With that final hint, he heads out the bedroom door. “See you tonight, Charlotte!”
“Bye,” I call out. When the door shuts, I flop back down on the mattress since I’m not yet ready to get out of bed and face the reality of the night before.
What the hell did we do? Or did I do?
Closing my eyes tight to ease the relentless throbbing headache, I try and focus on what I actually do remember from yesterday. I went to see Tessa; she asked me to break up with Paul; I did and felt horrible, so I stopped at the store to grab a bottle of wine that I immediately went to work on as soon as I locked myself up tight in Roman’s house. Did I eat anything other than breakfast yesterday morning? No, I don’t think I did. In which case, the alcohol would’ve hit my system harder than usual, which explains why I feel so hungover today. Oh, and then Roman came home! I definitely remember hearing his motorcycle, which caused the tension in my back and shoulders to ease up knowing he was back, because I feel so much safer when he’s around. I believe the two of us sat at the table together before going outside…
The hot tub! That’s right. We got into the hot tub, and I…oh jeez. I got in wearing just my bra and panties. I do vaguely remember climbing on Roman’s lap and kissing him but don’t recall if I was wearing anything or not…probably not. Then, he was touching me between my spread legs, easing a finger inside while another rubbed my clit until I… Oh yeah, I came so hard for him I’m surprised an earthquake wasn’t reported in the area. God, it was freaking amazing, that part I do recall very clearly. After that, though, I don’t remember anything before I woke up feeling like crap this morning.
But despite the blankness of some of my memories, I have no doubt that Roman was a complete gentleman who didn’t take advantage of my drunken and horny state. He probably just carried me to bed and tucked me in.
Oh, but I definitely remember how long and th
ick he was underneath me in the hot tub. He was as hard as a rock, and I didn’t even touch his dick once while he got me off easier than turning the key on his bike. So apparently, I’m not just a slutty drunk; I’m also a selfish drunk.
Having put together the pieces of the night before, I’m finally ready to get a shower and face the day, even though things will probably be awkward with Roman from now on. How could they not, now that he’s seen me act like a fool and touched me so intimately? I’ve messed everything up, thrown the whole “take things slow” declaration I made right out the window, making myself seem like the biggest hypocrite in the world.
All I want is to go back in time and not drink so much.
No, I can’t say that either. I enjoyed myself too much to wish it away. I think I would rather go back in time and reciprocate the gesture to even things up between Roman and I.
Since there’s no time machine sitting around, I guess I’ll have to do the next best thing – try and even the score tonight…
God, I wish I could talk to Tessa about this, about Roman, but I know I can’t. Right now, I need to focus on seeing her through to the other side of her trauma, not whining about something so trivial as my dating life or lack thereof.
So, for now, I’ll just have to go with my gut. And my gut says that there’s no reason I shouldn’t enjoy my time here with a hot biker while it lasts.
Chapter Fifteen
Roman
* * *
It’s only been four days since Tessa was kidnapped by four unknown men, but it may as well have been four decades. The longer it takes for us to identify them, the more time they have to get as far away from the Carolinas as possible. It’ll be impossible for me to get a good night’s sleep until all four men are dead and buried, unable to hurt another woman again.
Sitting at the head of the Savage Kings’ table, I read over our progress sheet Danny sent to try to figure out something we might be missing, another way to locate these fuckers since the police haven’t been worth a damn. Not that we want law enforcement to find them first. No, prison would be the easy way out and not punish them nearly enough for what they did to those four women, and possibly one other.
