21. Tatum
21
TATUM
N ausea swirls in my stomach, my mouth open like a gaping fish as I attempt to piece together exactly what’s happening and why the one man I don’t want to see is currently watching me—half-naked-–in a hot tub with a guy who picked me up at a bar.
“Wait— I didn’t— What are you doing here?” I ramble. Seriously? Am I hallucinating or?—
“Pretty sure I could ask you the same question.” Paxton looks at Roman. “You can go. Thanks.”
“Thanks?” I murmur under my breath. Something definitely isn’t adding up, but I’m too blindsided to piece anything together. The sooner I get out of here, the better, and since Roman’s my ride, it seems I need to get my ass in gear and follow him before he leaves me in the dust.
Gentleman, my ass.
I press my hands to the edge of the hot tub, preparing to climb out, when Paxton’s calm voice cuts through the silence. “Not you, Birthday Girl.”
I scoff and continue my retreat.
“Not if you want to keep your job,” he adds.
My muscles freeze.
Shit.
This is his house. He’s the friend Roman mentioned. Which means, I’m his maid, and he’s my boss.
Shitty, shit, shit, shit.
“Nice meeting you, Tatum,” Roman says as he leaves me alone with the one man I really shouldn’t be left with.
Mind still reeling, I stare at my hands pressed against the hot tub. I’m shaking. And I really hope he doesn’t notice.
Lie. Lie. Lie.
What kind of lie could I say right now to get me out of this?
Think, think, think, Tate. Think!
My eyes stay glued to my hands pressed against the edge of the hot tub, my body warring with itself as if the options of fight, flight, or fawn are about as complex as calculus. I need to get out of here. But if I do, will I lose my job? And who’s to say Pax really has any say in my employment anyway? He could be lying, he could be?—
Something soft hits the ground behind me. It’s followed by a wave of hot water hitting my back, and I turn around, deciding it’s better to face the asshole head on. There he is. Paxton Six. A very naked Paxton Six. His clothes are gone. Scratch that. They’re a small heap of fabric on the patio.
My gaze shoots back to Pax. “W-what are you?—”
“I’m enjoying my hot tub,” he answers. “I think the real question is, what are you doing here?”
He doesn’t look pissed, but he doesn’t look too happy, either. He looks…distant, despite being two feet away from me. I wish I knew him better. So I could read him easier. So I could know if he’s going to call the cops on me for trespassing, or get me fired, or…something.
“I…” I gulp. “I’m…also enjoying your hot tub?”
His mouth twitches as his eyes fall to my chest. “I can see that.”
Folding my arms over my boobs barely covered by my wet, lacy bra, I drop back into the water, using it to camouflage me. “Okay, look. I’m sorry I trespassed. I didn’t know…”
“Didn’t know this place belonged to me?” He doesn’t wait for my response. “You know, this is twice now that I've caught you trying to trespass. Is it a habit of yours or…?”
“I’d say no, but you wouldn’t believe me, anyway.” I force a smile despite the panic growing in my gut. “Although, if we’re going to discuss technicalities, your friend invited me, so…”
“He did, didn’t he?” Pax chuckles. “I would’ve done it myself, but it seems I misheard your number the other night.”
I start to stand again. “I should get going?—”
He grasps my hand. “Stay.”
I look down at his calloused fingers encompassing my wrist. His grip isn’t firm by any means. I’m sure he’d let me go if I moved away from him. But I can’t convince my body to listen. To move. Instead, I simply…stare.
“Why?” I lick my lips. “Why do you want me to stay?”
“Because you were obviously here to get laid?—”
“Pretty sure that ship sailed the moment you scared my date away.”
“It doesn’t have to,” he returns, matter-of-factly.
My gaze flicks to his, and I realize he isn’t trying to seduce me. He’s trying to poke the bear. To make me feel guilty for hooking up with him. For playing him like a fiddle. For showing up in his jacuzzi with the intention of doing the same thing with his friend. The irony isn’t lost on me, considering Pax is the one who set this whole thing up in the first place. I challenge, “You think any cock will do?”
“I think we had fun the first time…until you told me you were engaged.”
I roll my eyes, annoyed, though I can’t decide if it’s because of Pax’s comment, the fact that I was manipulated into being here, or if it’s because a simple, innocent touch by the bastard is making goosebumps break out along my skin despite the hot water I’m currently standing in—both figuratively and literally.
“You’re never gonna let that go, are you?” I seethe.
Removing his hand from my wrist, he grips the back of the hot tub with his arms spread wide. “Then there was the bonfire, where you sucked me off before giving me a fake number. That was a really good time. For me at least. Have you used the memory to touch yourself, yet?”
I scoff. “Don’t flatter yourself.”
Yes.
“Tell me, are you even really my maid or did you break into my house just to fuck with my head again?”
I laugh, despite myself. “You know, for once, I wish you were onto something because that would’ve been priceless, but no.”
“You sure?” he questions.
I shrug, and my bra strap slips off my shoulder, making the cup gape for the barest of seconds. I yank it back into place. “Call it a happy coincidence.”
He gives me a slow nod, dragging his gaze from my left boob to my face again. “You know, I’d say I believe you, but considering your track record…”
My hand fists beneath the steamy surface as I fight the urge to slap the bastard. He really is infuriating. But what’s worse is his nonchalance about the whole thing. How does he do it? He’s clearly not afraid to call me out on my bullshit, but he’s also acting like he isn’t pissed about any of it. Which is…confusing.
He isn’t the first person I’ve lied to. But, other than family, he is the first to stick around instead of giving me the middle finger and disappearing from my life entirely.
So, why did he go through the effort to bring me here?
Unable to stifle my curiosity, I dip my body back into the water, sit, and inspect the man across from me. And he lets me. Without a need to fill the silence or shy away from my blatant perusal of every inch of his skin. Hell, he basks in it. The silence. The charged air. The interest I have no doubt is rolling off me as I look at him. “Did you bribe Roman to bring me here?” I ask.
The water ripples around him as he shrugs, looking far sexier than he has any right to, considering the circumstances. “Didn’t need to.”
“Why?”
“He’s a friend who…” Pax scratches the scruff of his jaw, his movement causing a tiny ripple across the surface. “Likes to watch things explode.”
“And us showing up on your patio was going to cause an explosion?”
He stays quiet, his jaw flexing as his eyes fall to my cleavage.
“You still want me,” I realize. “That’s why you convinced Roman to bring me here. It’s why you’re offering your cock since any will do. Am I right?”
His gaze cuts to mine. “I want to know why you keep lying to me.”
“It’s cute that you want to be the exception.”
“It’s cute that you think I’m not the exception,” he tosses back at me. “Why were you nervous when Roman unzipped your dress?”
I flinch away, caught off guard by the subject change and how easily he read me. “I wasn’t nervous.”
“Guilty then,” he clarifies.
“Why would I feel guilty?”
His brows raise. “You tell me.”
My mouth presses into a hard line, and I shake my head, annoyed with how easily this man seems to get under my skin.
The truth is, I’ve always hated it. The guilt I carry from every fucking touch. Like I’m betraying Archer or even Paxton or…myself. There’s nothing wrong with hooking up with strangers. But when your heart belongs to someone else—someone who’s in the fucking grave and never wanted it in the first place—it’s a different kind of ache. One that makes me feel…pathetic.
“This has been fun,” I announce. “Watching you try to manipulate me into getting what you want, but I’m going to go.”
“I didn’t say you could leave?—”
“And I didn’t ask permission,” I quip. “You don’t own me.”
“Don’t I?” He smirks. “Because I’m pretty sure I’m your boss, and from the digging I had Roman do, I know you don’t live off your parents’ money?—”
“You had Roman look into me?”
I can’t decide if I’m more pissed or impressed, although if I ever see Roman again, he’s getting a swift knee to the balls for dragging me here under false pretenses, that’s for sure.
“I would’ve gone to the source,” he adds, “but since I don’t have your number…”
Smartass.
Moving closer, I almost brush my lips against his, but stop at the last second. “No amount of money will ever be enough to own me.” I pull back. “Now, if you’ll excuse me.” The ground is cool beneath my feet as I step out of the hot tub, my satisfaction at gaining the upper hand pulsing through me. He can say and think whatever he wants about me, but the truth is, he has no idea who I am, and I have every intention of keeping it that way, even if he is my boss.
Paxton stands, gifting me with the perfect view of his rippling abs as the water trails down them. “Your ride’s gone,” he says, as if I need the reminder.
“Duh.”
The ocean air kisses my wet skin, and I head toward my clothes on the back patio while Paxton stares at my ass. I can feel it. The way he’s simmering like the water. Hot and bothered. Frustrated. It only makes me sway my hips more. Because even though he might’ve temporarily gained the upper hand by getting me here, with a gentle roll of my hips, I’m taking it back, and it’s addictive as hell. Folding at the waist, I pick my clothes up, then face him again, letting him have his fill of my half-naked body as if I’m dangling a carrot in front of a horse like Rory joked earlier.
Look all you want, buddy, but this will never be yours. Not again.
“That’s very kind of you to point out my lack of a ride,” I reply, “but I’m sure I’ll figure something out. Hell, maybe I'll hitchhike. After all, any cock will do, and I haven’t been laid yet.” I flip him off over my shoulder. “Goodnight, Pax.”
“Call me boss,” he corrects me.
I snort and keep on walking. “You’re lucky I didn’t call you an asshole, asshole .”
As I round the corner of his house, I try not to lose my nerve while considering my options. Because yes, I could most definitely hitchhike, but actually going through with it while being half-naked feels like a bad idea. Scratch that. It doesn’t feel like it, it is a bad idea. Period. So where does it leave me? Confirming I’m out of sight from the hot tub, I struggle into my dress. The red silk sticks to my damp body like a second skin, making it almost impossible to get the material over my hips, let alone cover my torso. I really should’ve dried off before putting this on, but here we are. Adjusting the fabric across my chest, I look down, realizing the red is already bleeding onto my lacy white bra.
Fantastic.
Now, if I can only figure out how to zip this thing up…
“Tatum, wait up,” a masculine voice calls. Pax rounds the corner of the house, his heavy cock hanging between his legs as he stumbles toward me. I kind of figured he would’ve gotten dressed before chasing after me—if he wanted to chase after me at all—but I’m not complaining about the view.
“Let me give you a ride home,” he offers.
A ride? He honestly thinks I’d let him give me a ride home after all of this? The thought alone is laughable, but I keep my amusement in check, announcing, “Aaaand here it is.” I tear my attention from his bottom half and pop out my hip. “Proof you really don’t know me at all.”
Prying his attention from my body the same way I’d been eyeing his, he meets my gaze. “I know I pushed you too far. I get it. But I can’t let you hitchhike home. Especially not looking like this .”
His eyes fall to my mostly naked body, and I shouldn’t be flattered. I’m not. Okay, I kind of am, but only because it’s nice to be appreciated. Even so, I’m still in this position because of him. His manipulation tactic. His bullheadedness. His pride.
“You know, what? You are totally right.” I give him my back and peek over my shoulder. “Mind zipping me up?”
Confusion shines in his toasty gaze, but he gives me a slow nod and moves closer. His fingers skate across my bare skin right above my ass before he grasps the zipper and tugs it along my spine. When his hot breath hits the back of my neck, I catch myself holding my own, and I force the oxygen from my lungs.
Stay strong, Tatum!
“Perfect,” I quip. “Now, if you’ll excuse me.”
I take a step toward the driveway, but he reaches for my arm, stalling me. “Tate?—”
“I’m not half-naked anymore,” I point out. “So, you can let me go.”
“Tatum.” It’s a curse, though he’s not the first to find that particular inflection when saying my name. It only feeds my resolve as he scrubs his hand over his face, looking defeated. “Do you want to get kidnapped and murdered?”
“If it gets me away from you? Sure,” I reply wryly.
“Just—grr!” He groans, and it’s clear I’ve pushed him past his limit as he looks up at the navy sky hanging above us. “If you won’t let me give you a ride, at least take my keys.”
“What?”
“Here.” He lifts his hand, showing a set of car keys. “They were in my pocket by the hot tub. Take them.”
Is he serious?
“I’m not taking your car,” I argue.
“Do I need to throw you over my shoulder like a toddler?” he grumbles under his breath.
“Do I really need to threaten your balls again?” I toss back at him.
“You win, Birthday Girl.” He sighs. “You win, but I still need you safe, and since you’ve already made it clear you won’t let me drive you home, take my car.”
“And how will you get it back?” I challenge.
“You can keep it for all I care.”
I scoff. “Whatever.”
“Take the keys, Tatum,” he begs. “I’ll figure out logistics later. Please?”
Tatum. Please.
Two words I’m not sure I’ve ever heard him say. Before I can let myself overthink anything, I grab the fob from his hand, ignoring the brush of his fingers against mine as I steel my shoulders in an attempt to appear unaffected, but damn, is it hard. Forcing my expression to remain indifferent, I murmur, “Goodnight, boss .”
“See you at work, Birthday Girl.”
The softness in his voice catches me off guard and only frustrates me more.
Son of a bitch.