Nicole

 

I could feel his eyes on me, following me the whole way. When I got back to the table I put the drinks down and decided this was all a bit much for the night. Mostly because my body was burning up from the intensity of that guy’s—Maxwell’s—stare. I wouldn’t admit it to anyone, much less him, but I was wet between the legs. I wanted him, even if I couldn’t let him near me.

 

The last thing I needed was that kind of trouble.

 

Leaning towards my friends so they could hear me, I half shouted, “I’m going to take off!”

 

They both looked over at me surprise written across their features. “What?” Ashley asked, clearly surprised. She glanced down at her glittering wristwatch. “But it’s still early! We’ve got, like, another quarter of a night to finish!”

 

Kaleigh nodded in agreement. “Yeah, plus, I’m the one who drove, remember? How are you going to get home? You can’t take the bus this late! Talk about weirdos…”

 

I shook my head. “No, I’m not going to take the bus. I’ve got a voucher for a cab, you know, Drunk Cab? Anyway, I’ll give it a call and you guys can stay here for a while still. No one needs to worry.”

 

My friends shared a look and I suddenly felt bad. I was a total buzzkill, but after all that intensity with that guy, I had a feeling he wasn’t just going to leave me be tonight. And I didn’t want to deal with that; I didn’t want to risk making a mistake.

 

I knew his kind. Strong, seductive guys with a dangerous streak that made them all the sexier. The kind of guys who threw you down onto the bed hard and stripped off their belts and ripped off your panties and did things to you that—

 

I shook my head, trying desperately to focus on why I didn’t want that.

 

Because they love you and leave you, I thought to myself. The reminder helped to steel my resolve. I wasn’t about to get into another relationship with a jerk, but I also wasn’t about to be some horny biker’s one-night stand.

 

I had principles, damn it.

 

The girls protested, but I eventually convinced them I was tired and the music was bugging me. Ashley didn’t look entirely like she believed me, but she let it slide. Kaleigh gave me a hug and told me to call or text once I got home to let her know I’d made it safely. I agreed, then told them to have a fun time, but to be safe. Then I left.

 

I had my phone out—ignoring that there were four new texts, all of them from Ben—and called the number of the cab company. I gave them the address and reminded them of my voucher. They promised it would only be about ten minutes, so I decided it would be fine to wait outside.

 

The night air was cool and quiet, a sharp contrast to the wall of vibration and heat that filled the club inside. I was relieved to be away from it. I’d had a good time, but I had also had a couple of drinks and didn’t necessarily trust my judgement anymore. That guy, Maxwell, had looked way too good to me, and with my friends nagging me to get back on the dating horse, I knew it would only be a matter of time before I ended up being stupid.

 

Outside was better because it let me breathe a little easier. The cool breeze eased the burning blush that had overtaken my skin and helped to sober me up a little, too.

 

At least I’m not totally trashed, I thought.

 

I was waiting for the cab when I noticed him. A taller man, slimmer than most of the bikers inside the club, with a close-cropped head of dark hair. I couldn’t see much more than that at first, but as he walked closer, stepping out of the shadows, I recognized him. Instantly.

 

Ben.

 

It was like a stone dropping down into my stomach. I felt suddenly awful, and if I were willing to admit it to myself, afraid, too. Not quite terrified yet, but quickly heading in that direction. I wished desperately that the cab would show up, but it was nowhere to be seen. I glanced back towards the club entrance, debating whether or not it was a good idea to go inside. I had almost decided that it was a good idea, when he spoke.

 

“You didn’t answer my texts,” he said calmly, and that was when I started to notice.

 

He was dressed neatly, perfectly, his hair combed back just so, and there was a quiet smile on his face. To the average girl, he looked incredibly attractive and charming. And he could be, but I’d spent enough time with him to know there was more lurking just beneath the surface than most girls realized.

 

I involuntarily took a step back, but I realized he was so close now and that even if I turned and flat out run, he’d catch me if he wanted to. Deciding that wouldn’t help my case, I forced myself to stop and hold my ground.

 

“I was just coming out for some fresh air,” I told him, hating how small and afraid my voice suddenly sounded. “My friends are waiting inside, so I’d better head back.”

 

I went to turn and walk quickly away from him, but he stopped me. His hand grabbed my upper arm harshly, hard enough that I knew there’d be a bruise from it tomorrow. “Don’t lie to me, Nicole,” he said, still sounding calm, but now I could catch the hint of rage hiding just beneath the surface.

 

“I’m not—”

 

“I heard you call the cab,” he told me.

 

I paled. He knew I was lying and he knew no one was waiting for me inside. It was just him and me. I began to shake as I remembered our time together. How perfectly it had started—roses, chocolate, fancy dinners, everything. But then things had begun to change. Little things. Subtle things. He began to buy me clothes, presents, he said, but he was hurt if I didn’t wear them, even though they were things I would never buy for myself. Dresses that he insisted on if he was taking me out. Eventually, he was just picking out my clothes for me. And then he’d be critical about my hair—“not too long, not too short, and maybe a little blonder, don’t you think?”—and then it was my makeup. Soon, it was my job. I’d had to give that up after he insisted we move in together, back when I thought he was the most perfect man alive. Then things deteriorated rapidly. He wouldn’t let me have my phone unless he was there. He checked every call I made, listened in on the ones he could. He told me I had to cook and clean and told me how he liked it in bed…even when I didn’t like it.

 

By the time he hit me the first time, I knew it was over, that it had to be over. I left him with only a single note and crashed with Ashley and her boyfriend for three weeks before I found myself a new job and a new life.

 

Ben had been apologizing ever since, trying to get me back, but he didn’t look very apologetic now. He looked…terrifying.

 

“Why didn’t you return my texts, Nicole?” he asked, still in that eerily calm tone.

 

I tried to jerk away from him, but he only held me tighter. I opened my mouth, about to scream, when the door to the club popped open. It was enough to get Ben to pause and I jerked my arm out of his grasp, taking three solid steps backward and away from him. Away from him and directly into the solid chest of a man clearly much bigger than him. I swiveled around to face this new guy and my breath froze in my chest when I realized who it was.

 

Maxwell.

 

Relief flooded my system—anyone was better than Ben—and I thought maybe now Ben would leave me alone. Maybe he’d go away and I could thank Maxwell and we could all go back to our lives. I desperately wanted to go back to my life.

 

“Is there a problem here?” Maxwell was asking Ben, but his eyes lingered on my arm, the one Ben had grabbed.

 

“Of course not,” Ben answered smoothly. “I was just talking with my—”

 

“She’s not your girlfriend,” Maxwell interjected before Ben could even finish, and I once again felt relief. At least he wouldn’t think we were together. At least he wouldn’t just write this off as some lover’s quarrel.

 

“Who the fuck are you?” Ben demanded, the calm exterior finally cracking. “She’s my fucking girlfriend, we were having a fucking conversation, and it’s none of your fucking business!”

 

I flinched at the quickly rising volume of Ben’s voice, but Maxwell seemed completely unconcerned. He raised a single, thick eyebrow and said, “She’s not your girlfriend, because she’s my fucking wife.”

 

And in that moment, time froze.

 

Wife?

 

I held my breath, unable to say anything with Ben right there and this big, sexy man the only defense against him. I couldn’t figure out what he was saying, but I didn’t think it was good. Ben wasn’t going to like this.

 

Before anyone could say anything more, I felt his arm slide around my waist. It was intimate, familiar, like he’d known me all his goddamned life and his arm belonged there and other places, too. I could feel the strong muscles pressing against my waist, securing me snuggly against his body. Automatically, my arms went out to brace myself against his chest, hands flat against the tight t-shirt he wore beneath the leather jacket. I could feel his strong muscles there, tensed and ready for a fight.

 

Heat flooded me even as I was overwhelmed by confusion. I couldn’t figure out what was going on, why he was doing this, but my body didn’t have the slightest problem being held by him, regardless of my thoughts on the matter.

 

I didn’t know what to do, didn’t know what to say, but I kept silent in the hopes that Maxwell’s lie would save me.