Not Until You

by Roni Loren

  Foster smirked. “Yeah, you do.” He leaned over and kissed my cheek. “Let’s talk later.”

  I nodded numbly, not sure exactly how these two could possibly know each other or what Foster’s comment to Andre had meant. “Sure.”

  Pike sent me an apologetic smile, handed my purse to me, and then both men disappeared into their apartment, leaving me there with Andre.

  The minute the door shut, my fists curled around the plastic bag I was holding. “I cannot believe you just embarrassed me like that. What the hell is wrong with you?”

  I shoved past him and stabbed my key into the lock. Andre was right behind me, following me into the apartment like a dark cloud flooding the room. “You had me fucking worried, Marcela. I’ve been in a near panic trying to find you. And then you walk in, dressed in clothes that aren’t yours with not just one but two strange dudes.”

  “Foster and Pike aren’t strangers.”

  “Foster and . . .” He paused, a light switch seeming to flip on in his brain, and grimaced. “Ah, fuck me.”

  “What?”

  “Nothing. What are you thinking hanging out with guys like that?”

  I tossed my keys, purse, and bag onto the kitchen counter. “This is not your business.”

  “They’re grown men, and you’re, you’re . . .”

  “A grown woman, Dre,” I said, exasperated. “Despite what you and Papá seem to think. They even let me vote and pay taxes. Can you imagine?”

  “Don’t be a smartass. You had me ready to call hospitals.”

  I sighed, the lack of sleep settling on me, and lowered myself onto one of my barstools. My body was still tender, and I tried to cover the inevitable flinch.

  Andre’s lips went white from pressing them together so hard. “Did those jerks hurt you? Because if they did, I swear—”

  “Oh my God,” I said, pressing the heel of my hand to my brow bone. “Stop. Of course they didn’t. And I am so not discussing this with you.”

  The last thing I wanted to do was talk about my sex life with my big brother. It was awkward enough growing up, watching girls completely throw themselves at him. And I’d walked in on him in compromising positions more than once not realizing he had a girl over. My parents had willingly let Andre have dates over, and he could use the rec room with the door closed. But when I wanted to even have a guy friend over, it was living room only, parents on guard.

  “Look, I’m sorry that you were worried. My phone died, and I didn’t have my charger. I didn’t think it was a big deal because I wasn’t expecting anyone to call this early. But what I do with my personal time is no one’s business but mine. How would you feel if I barged into your place demanding details about your love life? Why don’t you tell me who slept in your bed last night?”

  Andre looked away, some strange flicker crossing his features—guilt? But finally he ran a hand over the back of his hair, a telltale sign his anger was deflating. “Fine. You’re right. That wasn’t fair.”

  I tipped up my chin. “Thank you. Now can we start over and pretend the last five minutes didn’t happen?”

  “I’ll try.” He pulled his phone from the pocket of his jeans and checked the time. “But I think we’ve missed brunch. I told Evan and Jace to go on without me when I couldn’t find you.”

  “Bummer. I haven’t seen those two in a while. Are they engaged yet?”

  Andre frowned, a dark curtain falling over his face. “Not officially.”

  Andre lived with his best friend, Jace. And Evan, Jace’s girlfriend, had moved in a few months ago. “You know when they make it official, you’re going to have to find a new place. I know you like living with your BFF and all, but you’ve got to feel like a third wheel now.”

  He shoved his phone in his pocket, shifting like his clothes had suddenly gotten too tight for his body. “It’s complicated.”

  “Ah, don’t do that to yourself, Dre.” I slid off the stool and patted his shoulder on my way to the fridge.

  “Do what?”

  I grabbed two bottles of water and tossed one to him. “I know you’ve got a crush on Evan. I’ve seen how you look at her when you don’t think anyone’s watching.”

  He unscrewed the cap, his gaze shuttered, and sipped the water. “It’s not like that.”

  I sighed. “I know we just agreed to not meddle in each other’s personal lives. But you got one free shot at me, so now I’m taking mine. Don’t mess things up with Jace for a girl, all right? Your friendship is more important that that.”

  “Duly noted.” He swigged another sip of the water, then set it on the counter. “Tell you what. How about I let you catch up on sleep and we plan to hang out another time? Things are a little crazy at work right now, so I’m tied up for a while. But we’re throwing a little birthday party for Jace’s brother, Wyatt, the Friday before you leave. Evan’s cooking and everything. You in?”

  I bumped the refrigerator door closed with my hip and thanked the heavens that I was going to be able to go crawl in bed instead of socializing on three hours’ sleep. “Sounds like a plan.”

  He smiled and stepped forward, cupping the back of my head and planting a kiss on the crown. “And I guess if you want to bring . . . a friend, you can.”

  I could tell the offer cost him something. I managed a smirk and ignored the longing ache the suggestion stirred. After this morning, I didn’t know if I’d even speak to Foster again. “Thanks. But uh, it’s not like that.”

  Andre closed his eyes briefly and shook his head. “Oh, I wish there was a machine to help you go back in time and un-know things.”

  I shoved his shoulder. “Grow up, bro. I have.”

  With a God-give-me-strength sigh, he turned and headed for the door. “Try to stay out of trouble, Marcela.”

  I gave him my best choir girl smile. “Always.”

  —

  Foster stretched out on the couch, his head booming and frustration wrapping around him like itchy rope. It was probably a good thing that Pike had gone to sleep in his room, because Foster was spoiling for a fight—an unjustified one—but at this point he didn’t really care about details like that. When Pike had put his arms around Cela this morning, Foster had wanted to slug him. He’d also wanted Cela to push Pike away, to come to him.

  But instead of any of that happening, Foster had just stood there like an asshole and let it all happen. Cela had gone off to the shower to do devil knows what with his best friend, and he’d stayed there frozen to the spot. For a breath of a moment, Foster had found himself imagining more with Cela. The way she’d described her experience submitting to him had lit something inside him, had awakened the desire to have her under his hand for longer than a night, to show her what that kind of power exchange could really be like, to bring her submission fully to the surface.

  But if he’d had any illusions about her even considering something like that, they’d been annihilated the minute she’d left the room with Pike. Last night had been exactly what she’d said—a good time, a way to lose her virginity, a one-off wild night. The whole reason she’d chosen them was because they were low risk. No feelings. No attachment. She was leaving in a few weeks, and he and Pike had made an offer that fit those requirements perfectly.

  And now he was going to have to leave it at that. No way was he messing with that rattlesnake of a situation again. He’d tried once before to woo a girl who wanted a vanilla life. Darcy had been submissive, he’d seen it plain as day when they’d played. But she’d only wanted to explore kink for fun—for kicks. She’d had a preacher’s daughter upbringing and had wanted to rebel.

  Of course, Foster hadn’t realized that while he was tumbling into the love abyss like an idiot. Pike had warned him, but he hadn’t wanted to hear it. He and Darcy had dated for a year, and he’d been sure she was the one for him, meant to be his. Fin
ally, someone who would stay in his life. He’d thought the only hurdle would be convincing her that she could have everything she wanted even if she fully embraced the submissive role with him. But it’d all been an illusion created by that lonely, hopeful kid that lurked inside him.

  On their one-year anniversary he’d offered Darcy a ring and a collar. She’d offered him a good-bye.

  Lesson learned.

  Foster pressed his thumbs to his forehead, trying to exorcise both the headache and the bad memories, but a loud banging interrupted the effort. “Fuck. Not right now.”

  But the sharp knocking came again, and Foster pushed himself up and off the couch. He rubbed his hands over his face as he made his way to the door, too mentally drained to face what he knew was going to be on the other side.

  He swung the door open and stepped aside, letting the imposing force of Andre Medina stride inside. Foster didn’t know Andre personally, had never spoken with him. But he knew of him, knew he was in the tight inner circle of Grant Waters—owner of The Ranch, the BDSM resort Foster belonged to. And Foster had watched Andre scene.

  “Sure, come on in,” Foster said dryly.

  Andre spun around, arms crossed, pissed-off cop face in place. “Believe me, this won’t take long.”

  Foster scrubbed a hand over his stubble. “Guess you figured out where we know each other from.”

  The muscle in Andre’s jaw twitched. “The different name threw me, but yes. Ian.”

  “Outside of those walls, everyone calls me by my last name.”

  Andre didn’t even seem to hear him. “So what’s your game?”

  Foster walked around the breakfast bar, heading toward the coffeepot. He didn’t have the energy for this conversation without more caffeine. “I don’t know what you’re asking.”

  “Your kink, Foster. Is it going after vanilla girls? Because that’s about the only reason I could see why you’re messing with my baby sister,” he said, anger rippling like a deadly undertow below his calm tone.

  Foster scooped coffee into the filter and poured the water in, refusing to snap at the bait Andre was waving. Sparring with Cela’s overprotective brother wasn’t going to get anyone anywhere. And with the foul mood Foster was already in, a fistfight was a distinct possibility if Andre got in his face. Last thing he needed to do was take a swing at a cop. Foster hit the On button to start the coffee then turned around to face his uninvited house guest.

  “I’m a dom. But I’m sure you already figured that out. And no, going after vanilla girls isn’t a hobby of mine. Last night wasn’t planned. And what happened should, frankly, be none of your goddamned concern.”

  Andre put his hands on the breakfast bar, palms flat, and leaned forward. “Maybe not, but I’m asking you, man-to-man, to stay away from Marcela. She’s leaving soon and doesn’t need any complications in her life. She’s worked hard and has a nice life waiting for her back home. I know how guys like you—like us—can affect a woman who’s innocent to our world. It can be overwhelming and exciting, can make them question what they want. Don’t do that to Cela. Have a fling with someone else.”

  Being told what to do by anyone raised Foster’s hackles, but he couldn’t deny the truth in Andre’s words. Even if Cela had wanted something more than last night, which she obviously didn’t, it’d be irresponsible for him to open up that submission, expose it, with only a few weeks together. Discovering that side of yourself brought up a lot of shit, even for a dominant. Coming to terms with those feelings and urges often took time and a support system, someone to guide a person through the pitfalls.

  The idea teased at him like the scent of forbidden fruit. He’d love to be the one to lead Cela through that, uncover the layers of submission if last night hadn’t been a fluke and that need was truly there. He gripped the counter behind him, trying to get a hold on his quickly derailing thoughts. “You have nothing to worry about. Cela is a great girl, but I’m looking for a long-term sub. I steer clear of vanilla girls. Usually. Like I said, last night wasn’t planned.”

  Andre straightened and nodded. “Good. I’m glad we’re on the same page then.”

  Foster smirked. “So I guess Cela doesn’t know anything about your . . . proclivities.”

  For a brief moment, the hardened-cop act flickered, and Andre’s shoulders dipped as if heavy hands were pushing down on them. “No, she doesn’t know any of it. She wouldn’t understand. My family wouldn’t understand. And I’d appreciate it if you don’t say anything to her.”

  The coffeepot beeped, but Foster kept his attention on Andre. Foster knew what it was like to have to hide part of yourself. And from what he knew of Andre’s situation, the guy was having to hide a helluva lot. “I wouldn’t, but Cela may be more understanding than you think.”

  Frown lines etched his face. “See you around, Foster.”

  And with that, he was out the door.

  The second Medina to walk away from him in a day.

  TWELVE

  “You okay, boss?”

  “Hmm . . .” Foster turned away from the computer screen.

  Lindy, his assistant, nodded toward his computer. “You’re on the same newspaper article you were on when I stopped in here half an hour ago.”

  “Oh, right.” He rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. “Guess I’m having trouble focusing today.”

  “Rough weekend?” she asked, setting the take-out lunch he’d ordered on the corner of his desk.

  “You could say that.” Rough. Amazing. Frustrating.

  Lindy lifted a file folder in her other hand and waggled it in the air. “This should cheer you up. They found that little girl in Ohio last night. Scared to death and hungry but totally unharmed. She’d wandered off and gotten lost in the woods outside of her neighborhood. The Home Safe bracelet led them right to her.”

  “Thank God.” A wash of relief went through him. No matter how many times he got that kind of news, each successful outcome was a triumph to be celebrated. And he had to hang on to those because he knew how many similar stories didn’t wrap up with that kind of happy ending. “That absolutely does cheer me up.”

  “The father called in a few minutes ago. He wanted to know what he could do to thank you or help get the word out about our products. He’s already mentioned us in their local newspaper.”

  Foster took the file from Lindy and opened it. The big smile of five-year-old Madison Dore greeted him. He touched the photo, the memory of another little girl always hovering at the edge of his mind. One who hadn’t been found. He closed the file quickly. “Tell him there’s no need to thank us. But if he really wants to help, he can make a donation of bracelets to a local school or he can do a testimonial for the website.”

  “Awesome. I’ll tell him. And I’ll add her picture to the board. That’s fifteen this year. And the tenth for the bracelets alone.” She did a little fist pump. “Go team!”

  He laughed. His assistant’s enthusiasm was one of the main reasons he’d hired her. There were often dark days at 4N. The situations they made products for weren’t happy ones. So the office needed all the positivity it could get. “Been hitting the coffee hard today?”

  Lindy gave a sheepish smile. “Diet Mountain Dew, but yeah, probably need to lay off a bit.”

  “Go eat something, absorb some of that caffeine.” He grabbed the bag of takeout. “I’ve got an article to read.”

  “The key is to read left . . . to . . . right,” she said, talking slowly like he didn’t understand English.

  He tossed a ball of paper at her. “Out, minion.”

  Lindy shut his office door, and he pulled out the roast beef sandwich she’d brought in. But right as he was about to take his first bite, his cell phone rang with a familiar thrashing drumbeat. He sighed and pressed the speaker button on the phone. “Hey.”

  “Whoa, yo
u actually picked up,” Pike said, the sound of car noise in the background. “I tried to catch you before you left this morning, then tried to call.”

  “I had a lot waiting for me here, had to leave a little early and then got caught up in something.” He took a bite of his sandwich, not wanting to have this conversation.

  “Uh-huh. You’re pissed at me. I get it.”

  “Hmm?” he asked, the noise muffled by his half-full mouth.

  “Don’t be a dick. You’ve been avoiding me since Saturday,” Pike said, no ire in his voice. “Look, man, if you didn’t want me to touch her again, you should’ve said something. I would’ve backed off. You just had to say the word.”

  Foster set his sandwich down, the bite he’d taken turning to sawdust in his mouth. “That wasn’t my place. I don’t have any say over her. You touched her, she didn’t tell you no. That’s that.”

  “Right. So if I go home today and head over to her place for a little afternoon delight, you’re totally cool with that.”

  His fist clenched around his soda, nearly busting the disposable cup. “Do it and I’ll fucking castrate you.”

  Pike’s loud laugh echoed from the speaker. “Man, I love it when I’m right.”

  Foster grunted. “That’s because it’s so rare, it’s worthy of celebration.”

  “Touché. So have you called her?”

  “I checked in with her yesterday just to make sure she was okay.”

  He sniffed. “Checked on her? What the fuck? Because sex with you is so earth-shattering she needed a follow-up?”

  Foster grabbed the phone to take it off speaker and leaned back in his chair with a sigh. “No. Because Cela was a virgin.”

  “What? A . . .” Pike’s words trailed off like the term virgin was so foreign, he couldn’t even speak it aloud. “Holy shit.”

  “Yeah. I didn’t realize it until it was too late.”

  “Jesus.” Foster could picture Pike shaking his head in disbelief. “That chick’s fucking brave. Losing your virginity in a three-way? That’s a rock-star move right there.”