Chapter 5
RICKON
Taylor stands and I let her. Can’t blame her for wanting to run, but she isn’t doing it at a galloping pace either. I can’t tell if that’s a good sign or not Then again, I should be thanking my lucky stars she didn’t smash a bottle over my head and slam the pointy bit into my chest.
Deep rooted uncertainty and doubt set in. Second guessing every word that crosses my mind in fear that it might scare her. Chase her further into the abyss and confusion. Turn this somewhat amenable reaction into one that makes her run for the hills and never look back.
Can’t have that. Not after what we’ve gotten up to.
Hell, I knew it in the restaurant, this kiss solidified it . . .
Taylor’s mine and I won’t let go of her this easily.
She turns around, considering her first step. This is my chance to bring her back, settle her mind on what happened earlier, yet I find myself staring at her body instead. Her firm ass, squeezed into the tight, nightmarish body suit.
Images of my fingers between her legs flashing across my mind, when it should instead be fighting tooth and nail for a solution to this problem. I like it to think it’s a coping mechanism, replaying the more enjoyable side of our night, rather than focusing on the torture that has befallen us.
Deep down, I know it’s a false belief. She’s hooked some depth dwelling primal side of me.
Reeled it up to the surface and it’s taken full control.
It wants, no, needs her in ways I didn’t know possible.
Clawing under my skin to reach out and touch her.
Bring her in for a kiss. Taste her tongue, skin and cunt.
Shaking my head to snap out of the daze, I grab Taylor by the wrist before she can walk off. She spins on her heels in an instant, a flat palm striking my cheek.
“Don’t touch me,” she says. Says. Not, screams. A second sign that this isn’t the end of our story yet.
I don’t get a chance to respond before a heavy slab of meat steps behind her. Red faced, with thick bullets of sweat pouring down his brow, the no nonsense barman has come to her aid.
“This guy giving you trouble?” He asks, beady eyes narrowed so tight I can barely see the white.
It’s in her hands now.
Answering yes means another fight, and another poor, old bastard laying sprawled out on the floor and covered in blood. She’d blame herself, but it wouldn’t be her fault.
I don’t handle rejection well.
Taylor glares at me for an eternally torturous second, but with a humph she forces a smile onto her face and turns to the barman with unsteady motion.
“Not at all,” she slurs the words with measured precision even the finest actors would kill to possess. Pressing her ass into the table for “stability” she continues. “We’re just having some fun. I got a little carried away.”
I smirk as she drops back into the booth. The instant her face is pointed away from the barman, the ditsy drunk facade disappears behind a scowl. Guess luck is on my side in more ways than I could’ve imagined tonight.
“Right, then I’ll only say this once, you two better settle down. You’re making the others uncomfortable.” The barman shrugs his meaty shoulders.
He lumbers back to his counter, slinging drinks and chatting up a couple sitting opposite him. Doesn’t take long for his attention to shift away from me completely.
“Before you get the wrong impression on why I sat back down, I want you to know that it’s not because I care if you get hit or not,” she speaks once we’re alone.
“Then why did you?”
The scowl softens to timid indecision. “I’m not really sure.”
You sat down because you want this as badly as I do. Your mind and body crave it. Beg for it. Can’t fight the urges to stay, to know what it would feel like to take a walk on the wild side.
“Because you want answers,” I say, instead.
As much as I want to, I can’t say any of my thoughts out loud. It’s a delicate balancing act for the time being. Playing it off as cool and calm, when deep down the fires in my veins burn hotter.
“Maybe.” She turns away from me.
“Then ask, and you shall receive.” I’m not in the habit of spilling my guts, especially when it comes to how I operate my business.
“Why were you there tonight?”
“Business. Nothing more, nothing less.” To prove my intentions, I will give her honesty. I won’t approach her, hat in hand, begging for approval, though God knows I crave it.
“Why did it have to end with my dad in a mess?” She won’t look at me, speaking into the void in hopes that it will make her questions and my answers easier.
“You know why.”
“He owes you money,” she says.
“He does.”
“He doesn’t have it,” she bites, mouth hardening.
“I know.” This conversation had to come up at some point, but I didn’t expect it to be so hard.
Sadly, I can’t buckle or show remorse. It’s not in my nature. I would do anything to make see her smile again, but if there’s any hope that we can build a future together, I refuse to let it stand on a foundation of lies.
If this is going to have any chance of progressing beyond a bar room fling, she has to know who I am. What I am. Taylor must understand that this devil wears a suit and tie, flashes a charming smile as he doles out money, but can flip on a dime without compassion.
“He won’t next week, either.” The triumphant hum in her tone fades.
“I know.”
“So what? You’re just going to keep coming back, bruising his face, making it impossible for him to land a job?”
Never thought about it like that. Outward appearances are everything and I do a good job of making them messy.
“You tell me to walk away, you’ll never see me again, Taylor.
” Painful as it is to say, I mean it. “You want our bad deal settled? We’re square.
I’ll clear his debt, wipe the slate clean.
Hell, as long as it’s benefiting you, I’ll give him more money than he knows what to do with.
Don’t you see this,” I gesture between our bodies.
“Has nothing to do with him. I’m not here because I expect anything.
It’s because I want it. Need it. Can’t fucking live without it. ”
Cards on the table, no holding back.
She isn’t playing me with the threatening waterworks. Realizing it was me behind the mask must’ve awoken a clusterfuck of emotions no one in their right mind can grasp. The weight lifted off her shoulders from clearing her father’s debt only adds to the mix.
Her dad’s bruises will subside and there’s no reason to fear another visit from me. But where I could play dumb, pretend I have no idea what’s running through her mind, there’s no point in that either.
She fell for the man behind the mask long before she saw me behind it. Our kiss, the exploration of our bodies, made it damn clear that she wants this. Me.
It doesn’t have to change because of what happened earlier.
“Rickon . . .” Her head snaps back in my direction, tears welling in her eyelids. The same way I met her. “Don’t know if—”
“You have all I can offer,” I cut her short before she says something we can’t come back form, and level my gaze with hers. Never blinking, watching for any sign of a shift. “My turn to ask you something.”
She nods.
“Why are you still here, if you’ve already made your mind up about me?”
“Because,” her voice is brittle, like twigs snapping underfoot. “I haven’t. How am I supposed to make sense of this? I hated you a couple of hours ago, now . . .”
You can’t stop thinking about me.
“Rickon, I need time to think about this. I can’t make any decisions right now.” She scooches out of the booth with the statement. Her body movement punctuating the moment.
I don’t let her get far, grabbing her loosely by the wrist and easing her back toward me.
This time, she doesn’t fight it. Nor plays at delivering another echoing slap.
Taylor merely faces me, eyes wide with anticipation, or maybe expectation.
Giving in to the base desires her flooding emotions muddied.
“Hopefully this will make your thinking easier,” I say, my hands snapping to the small of her back to pull her into me. I kiss her with the same passion and fire as our first.
Her hands slink over my shoulders and hug loosely around my neck, mouth and body making decisions she’s too afraid to admit aloud. It calls out for more, the same way mine calls out for her. Eager, desperate, insatiable want.
Time to think . . . yeah, right.
When our kiss concludes, it isn’t abrupt or out of rage and disgust. Taylor’s smiling as she pulls away, face dry and fear gone.
All it took was a little nudge in the right direction. Me proving that I meant what I said with actions rather than words.
“I hope you don’t think this changes anything,” she says, giggling elated as she slips out of the booth.
“Sure it does,” I shout after her, loving the view of her swaying hips as she walks. “Means you’ll be seeing me mighty soon, Baby Doll.”
She leaves, and I follow close behind.
Her porcelain and my bandana, left on the table.
Facing the future together, unmasked, and fearless.