Lauren

 

The big goon Michael sent to take me to my office cleaning sat outside in his car. A rundown Pontiac that squealed when he turned right. For a mechanic, I would have thought he’d drive something a little better than that.

 

Michael sent me a text an hour before my shift at the shelter ended telling me Tony would be taking me to the office. He’d pick me up to take me home. His home. Because I had managed to get myself under house arrest for being involved in a hit and run where I was the victim.

 

I finished tying up the last trash bag and brought it to the front door when it flung open and Michael stormed in. He nearly knocked me down with the force of his entrance. He didn’t look happy, but he wasn’t pissed either. Whatever it was had nothing to do with me.

 

He saw me then, his eyes wandered over my t-shirt and jeans before landing on the large garbage bag in my hand. The picture seemed to piss him off even more, his eyes narrow and his lips together hard.

 

“What?” I took a step back and looked down at myself.

 

“I don’t like this job.” His eyes swept the office of the small welding company.

 

“Good thing it’s not yours, then.” I tried to smile, but his fierce gaze stopped me.

 

“Are you done? Tony can finish for you if you need.” He jerked his head to the door.

 

“That guy has been stuck babysitting me all day. I’m not asking him to do my work for me.” Whatever his problem was, I didn’t want it on my doorstep. “Besides, it may be menial work to you, but it’s decent pay.” I shifted the weight of the garbage bag and tried to step around him.

 

He wouldn’t be dismissed so easily. Moving in front of me, he blocked my exit. His hands landed on my shoulder, stopping me from trying walk around him. He waited until I looked up at him before he continued. “I don’t like this job because it sends you to some shitty parts of town alone. Anyone could walk in here on you. You should have locked the door. And those guys out in the plant, can they get in here from a connecting door?”

 

I tried not to roll my eyes, but the man could be impossible. “Michael, I’ve been cleaning this office for over a year. I know most of the guys out there; nothing is going to happen here.”

 

His sigh could have parted my hair if I hadn’t had it pulled back in a ponytail. “You don’t understand. That car didn’t hit you by accident. That guy last night didn’t just want to mug you. They are connected by some very bad people.”

 

“I’m not listening to this again. I talked with the police today. Called me between classes, asking me a bunch of questions about the car accident. He didn’t seem to be worried like you are. He just wanted to fill out some stupid accident report. I need to stop by to sign.”

 

His eyes darkened. “What cop called you? Bixby?”

 

“No, Baker, Maker, I don’t know, something like that. He said he’d meet me between classes tomorrow for me to sign the report. I thought that was a little odd, but he said he had to drop of something for his kid at the admissions office.”

 

“Shit.” He let go of my shoulders and dragged a hand through his hair. “You aren’t going to school tomorrow. You aren’t going anywhere tomorrow.” He ripped the garbage bag from my hand and wrapped a hand around my bicep pulling me toward the door. “If you’re not done here, tell Tony.”

 

“I’m done. I just need to toss that. Michael, let me go. What’s wrong?” The humidity of the summer air hit me as he pulled me out into the side parking lot. My babysitter stood in the same place I’d left him, leaning against his car with his arms crossed over his chest.

 

“Do you need to lock up?” He stopped dragging me long enough to ask.

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Give me the keys.” He held out his hand.

 

I wanted to argue, to pull away and tell him to shove off, but then I looked him in the eye. It wasn’t just anger lurking there, but worry. Michael wasn’t just being a jerk; he was actually concerned. I’d argue with him later.

 

I yanked the keys from the pocket of my jeans and handed them to him. He promptly turned and tossed them to Tony.

 

“Stay right here.” He released my arm and jogged back to the front door. I looked over at Tony, who seemed to be entertained at the sight of his boss dragging me around and playing babysitter.

 

“I could have done that, Michael,” I grumbled when he handed me back the keys and motioned toward his truck.

 

“You could do a lot of things. Doesn’t mean I’ll let you.” He walked ahead of me, around to the passenger’s side of the truck and yanked the door open.

 

I wanted to say something, anything to wipe away the arrogant look on his face when he continued to stand by the door staring at me. Tony was watching, I could feel it, and if I pushed Michael too hard he’d probably just toss me in the truck like the Neanderthal he was behaving like.

 

Turning toward Tony, I walked over to him, ignoring the glare Michael gave me. “Thanks for the ride today, and the company. I’m sure you had better things to do.” He pushed off the car and stood straight, looking over my head toward Michael. Sometimes poking the wolf couldn’t be resisted. I leaned up on my tip toes and planted a soft kiss to Tony’s bearded cheek. “Thanks again.” I turned on my heel and walked over to Michael, feeling his gaze burning me with each step. I didn’t say a word to him, or look at him as I climbed up into his truck.

 

He grumbled something under his breath that I didn’t understand as the door slammed. I did hear Tony’s rumble of laughter as Michael walked around to the driver’s side. He remained silent as he fired up his truck and pulled out of the lot and headed down the street.

 

“My apartment is the other way,” I pointed out as he made a left.

 

“I know.”

 

“You’re going the wrong way.”

 

He let out an exaggerated sigh. “You’re staying at my place tonight.” He flipped on the radio, the country station filled the cabin, and he growled. “Fucking Tony playing with the radio again.” I caught his side glance as he pushed a few buttons and switched the station to something with more metal and less country. Michael always grumbled when I turned his radio to country when we were younger, and when he was hiding out with me in my room he’d tease me about my CD collection. But once in a while, his radio already had the country station playing when I jumped on his bike or in his car.

 

I grinned and looked out the window. “I can’t move in with you, Michael.”

 

“I said for tonight,” was his only reply.

 

“Are you going to tell me what the hell is going on, or are you just going to keep acting like the big ape of the group?”

 

He shot me a glare that suggested I not keep poking. I let him drive in peace, needing some time to relax before we got to his place. When he pulled into the alley behind a row of townhouses, I gathered my things.

 

“Are you hungry?” he asked after he pulled into the garage. I saw his motorcycle parked in the next stall over, and a vivid memory of clinging to him as he drove down I-90 in the summers came back to me. “Lauren. Are you hungry?”

 

“A little.” I nodded and pulled the handle of the door to open it.

 

“I’ll order a pizza. I haven’t gone shopping in a while.” He pulled out his phone and, as he ushered me through the small backyard to the back door of his house, he ordered a large half cheese and half mushroom pizza. Just like when we were kids. He hated mushrooms, but always let me put them on half the pizza.

 

While he was busy digging out his key and opening the door, I looked at the house. Nice. Not rundown with loose shingles and faded paneling like I imagined, but new. Brick exterior, solid black shingles beside each set of windows, and there were two floors, not counting the basement. Even the back porch looked modern with the wrought iron banister and concrete steps.

 

“You coming?” he asked from inside, and I realized I had been staring at the house.

 

Feeling my cheeks heat up, I walked past him inside. The kitchen blew me away. Stainless steel appliances, marble countertops, and ceramic flooring.

 

“What? Think I’d still live in a dump like my old man?” He half laughed when he shut the back door.

 

“No. Of course not.” I shook my head and slid my backpack onto the kitchen island. “I just didn’t expect you to have such modern tastes.” I pointed to the crown molding.

 

“Well, don’t be too impressed. When I bought the place, it was a shit hole. I let the chick I was fucking—I mean, the girl I was seeing—do the decorating when I remodeled it all. She didn’t have horrible taste.”

 

It hadn’t occurred to me he might have a girlfriend. “Oh. Are you seeing someone?” Would he have had sex with me while he was involved with someone else? Maybe he just saw me as an easy lay.

 

“What? No.” He moved toward me, closing the space between us until his boots touched my gym shoes. “I’m not really the ‘seeing someone’ type.” His hand ran up my arm before tucking a willful strand of hair behind my ear.

 

“So last night. That was just you fucking another chick?” The words tasted sour as I said them, and from the change in his demeanor, he didn’t like them anymore than I did. His shoulders tensed and his jaw firmed. “No. Don’t answer that.” I stepped back, turning and moving around the island. Space. I needed space, and some sort of barrier between u; otherwise I’d let him get to me. I’d let those damn eyes of his soothe the anger building inside of me. I had no right to be angry. We weren’t a thing. We weren’t even friends anymore.

 

“Lauren—”

 

I cut him off with a shake of my head.

 

“Listen to me.”

 

“Not really interested. What I am interested in is finding out why you’ve brought me here and why you got so pissed when I told you I was going to meet that cop.” I swallowed, my throat suddenly dry. I could have let him tell me that the night we spent together meant something. I could have listened to him spout all sorts of lies. I’m sure by now he’d gotten really good at them. I wouldn’t doubt he had a new woman in his bed every night. I mean, look at him! All muscles, inked, and the way his touch could set a woman on fire, yeah, definitely a new woman each night. I just happened to be there, my luck.

 

He didn’t move toward me again, but if his eyes indicated anything it was his desire to jump over the island at me. Dark eyes glared at me as he calmly pressed his palms into the countertop and leaned over toward me. “You will listen to me, Lauren. You weren’t just some notch on my belt. That’s not what last night was, not to me.”

 

“I’m new to the casual sex thing,” I shot at him. As much as his expression warned me to back down, it was Michael, he wouldn’t hurt me. Not physically.

 

“I just said that’s not what last night was. You don’t listen so well anymore, huh?” The snarl was back in his voice, another indicator to take a breather.

 

“Whatever, Michael. Tell me what’s going on that you’re keeping me here instead of letting me go home to my apartment.”

 

He eyed me with thinned lips and narrowed eyes. “You’ve gotten mouthy over the years.”

 

“I’m not a little girl anymore, Michael. I keep telling you that. I keep telling you I can take care of myself now.” I did my best to keep my voice from wavering. He didn’t frighten me, but the intensity of his stare on me, the closeness of his body to me, made my skin tingle, made my mind race toward thoughts that would only get one of us hurt.

 

Just as he opened his mouth to speak, the doorbell rang. He swallowed hard. “Don’t move from that spot, Lauren Robertson. This conversation isn’t over. Not one fucking step away from where you are, got me?” I never knew a man could sound so much like a rabid animal until I heard Michael growl so many orders at me.

 

My chest hurt from the large breath I was holding, and I finally let it out once he disappeared out of the kitchen. I planted my elbows on the counter and cradled my head in my hands. What was I doing, provoking Michael? Nothing good would come out of it, why start a fight with him?

 

The idea of his arm wrapped around someone else made my stomach turn. In the last seven years of not knowing where he was or what he was doing, not a day went by that I didn’t think about him. I knew he’d moved on with his life, and that meant he’d have relationships with women. Grown women. Not innocents like me. Innocent. What really defined that word anyway? It meant one thing to Michael, but something entirely different to other people.

 

None of the guys I dated were innocent. I thought I searched for Michael in every man I saw. Rugged. Troublemakers. I quickly was starting down the same path my mom had dragged me down. It took one horrible night a few years back for me to realize what I was doing. I was trying to replace Michael, but they were nothing in comparison. Just a muscle-head with a bag of trouble. But even those rough and tumble guys, none of them electrified my core as quickly as Michael could. Just a stare, a quick look could put me on edge and make me want him. And damn if he didn’t exploit that fact.

 

“Pizza’s here,” he called from the hallway. I listened to his steps as they came closer. I needed to get my head on straight. When he walked into the kitchen, he slid the pizza box onto the counter and grabbed my arms. Pulling me toward him, his lips crashed down on mine before I could take a breath.

 

Michael didn’t do gentle, and that was just fine with me. His tongue licked at my lower lip, and when I didn’t open for him right away his teeth bit into my lip, dragging it downward. I couldn’t stop the groan that escaped me as his tongue slid past my lips, sweeping into my mouth. His hand cradled the back of my head, his fingers clenching and pulling my hair. The pain in my scalp mingled with the sensuous stroking of his tongue.

 

When he broke off the kiss and looked down at me, my lips felt swollen, and I licked them, tasting the remnants of him. Deep wrinkles appeared on the side of his eyes as he grinned down at me. A strand of hair had fallen over his brow, giving him a boyish look. His fingers didn’t release my hair as he spoke. “I had a feeling that would put you in a better head space.”

 

I blinked. When had my hands moved up to his chest? My fingers were curled into his t-shirt, clinging to him.

 

“You’re not some chick off the street, Lauren. I would never treat you like that.” His words were said with sincerity and his eyes matched his tone. The warmth crept back into them. My hair was released and he brought his hand forward, trailing down my jaw until it curled under my chin. “My Lauren.” He whispered so softly, I wondered if I had heard him correctly. “For now. For now, you are mine and only mine.”

 

“Until you’re done with me,” I managed to say, looking at him so pointedly in the eye unsettled my resolve to remain distant.

 

“Until we are done with each other.” He gave my chin a little shake. “Say it. Say you’re mine.”

 

“I’m yours, Michael.” I always have been. “Until we are sick of each other,” I added with a small smile. How easily he could always turn my mood around.

 

He kissed me again, quick and hard, before completely releasing me. “Let’s eat.” He pulled out the stools for us to sit and pulled the box in front of us. No plates needed.

 

“I need to know what’s going on, Michael.” I tiptoed into the forbidden territory between bites of the mushroom side of the pizza.

 

“I’ll tell you what you need to know later.” He didn’t even look over at me as he gave that directive. I wanted to shove him off his stool.

 

“What I need to know is everything.” I tossed my crust back into the box.

 

“Still don’t eat the crust?” he asked incredulously. “I thought only kids put the crusts back.”

 

“Well, I thought only kids ran away from home. Turns out we were both wrong.” I slid off my stool and swiped my bag from the counter, heading out of the kitchen in search of a bathroom and bed. I needed to get some work done and go to sleep, but Michael was at my side in a flash.

 

His hand gripped my shoulder and spun me back around to face him. I barely had time to acknowledge he was there before he hoisted me up over his shoulder. I lost my grip on my bag in the process and it fell to the floor.

 

“I’ve had enough of that bratty mouth of yours.” He slid his hand up my thigh, resting it on my ass. “I think it’s time we had a talk.”