Laiken

Gold. Silver. Crystal. The choices that Mellie, the party coordinator, keeps bringing me are staggering. After hours spent selecting cutlery and ribbons for the backs of chairs, I think about choking myself with the curly satin strings.

“You look stressed,” a familiarly unpleasant voice says behind me. Turning, I jump off the wicker couch at the sight of Annie in the sunroom. It's the quietest place I know of, perfect for getting work done. But now that she's here I feel like I'm in a barred prison cell. The sunlight warming my face through the giant windows doesn't help at all.

Annie's been avoiding me the way Dominic used to. I hadn't seen her at any meals. I'd started wondering if she wasn't in the house at all. Her eyes slip from me, to the pile of papers on the table. “What are you working on?”

“Just ideas for the party,” I say. I don't stop to think she might not know about it. Dominic said he got approval for us to go forward, there's no way Annie's in the dark.

She steps closer, resting her fingers on a slip of white silk—fabric for the seat cushions. “You're really putting thought into this, hmm?”

“Of course.”

Her dark eyes stab at me. “Of course,” she mocks. Straightening up, she folds her hands behind her back. Though we're the same height now, I always remember how she looked standing over me on the day she stole me away. The way she stared as I said farewell to the people I loved. “You're on your best behavior these days. Ready to do anything, so long as you get what you need out of it.”

I keep my expression neutral. “Wouldn't you?”

Annie's painted lips crinkle in the corners. Her frown shifts to something like self-doubt, but I've never known her to question herself—not ever. She looks me over with her head cocked to the left. The peek at her inner thoughts is gone. “You'll need something to wear.”

“Yes,” I reply, my voice rising from confusion. “I have dresses in my closet.”

“You don't own anything nice enough for this event.”

I fight down a snort. Everything I own is stuff you gave me, I think to myself. If it isn't nice enough, that's not on me. But I also have trouble imagining anything nicer than the long dresses hanging in my closet. They're all beautiful, most never worn once. I always resisted unless forced.

“I'll have some options sent to you,” she says, pulling out her phone, typing.

“Why do you want to help me?” I ask, thrown off by her actions. I thought she was going to strike me down in this room when she appeared. Now she's making sure I have something nice to wear?

Annie stops typing. She doesn't look at me, though—her attention is on the phone's screen. “I'm not doing this to help you. I'm doing it to help me.” Lifting her chin, she squints at me, and I feel like a cockroach she's debating crushing under her pointed heel. “This party idea is archaic. However, it is possible for it to work. If we can bring in enough powerful people, woo them with our generosity, getting them on board with our banks, then I want to do everything possible to make that happen.” She shoves her phone into the pocket of her purple, flared jacket. “Men love power. They also love sex.”

I flush at her statement. “What does that have to do with giving me a dress?”

Her hips swing as she comes towards me. She's moving with exaggerated motions, driving home a point that climbs its way up to my brain just as she speaks it out loud. “You're very attractive, Laiken. I'm sure you know this.” Her fingers lift, stroking my cheek, making me tremble. Her voice is an odd whisper. “I thought you looked like your dad. As you grow, you're becoming more like her.”

I can't move. I'm stuck there, frozen by whatever is possessing Annie to behave in a way she never has in my presence. The backs of her polished nails are smooth on my skin, like stones along a riverbed. Her eyes focus on mine; clarity returns, she rips her hand away and backs up. Her shock shifts into fury, like she's humiliated herself, done something stupid, and it's my fault.

Spinning, she heads for the door at record speed. “The men we want to impress like to see pretty woman in prettier things. I won't have you looking like roadside trash. You'll pick one of the gowns I send to you, that's final.”

Unable to respond, I watch her leave the room. The sun heats up my shoulders through the window glass. I don't feel it. Not even a single degree.

I'm too busy remembering how terrifying her nails felt on my cheek.

****

AFTER MY LITTLE MEETING with Annie, I struggle to focus on my work. It's impossible, though. The sensation of her touch keeps wriggling into my mind. I can't concentrate; all I want to do is get out of the house. Fresh air and a nice run will shake off my uneasy mood. It always has before.

I stop at my room to change into some workout clothes. Most of what I wear normally could be called athletic wear, but because I plan to run—and run hard—I slip on a sports bra under the new outfit.

Bouncing down the hallway to warm-up, I make a beeline for the front door. Before I reach it, I spot movement through the giant windows. I pull up short, my sneakers squeaking.

Dominic is doing push-ups on the flat cement driveway.

I'm fascinated by the view. He's wearing a sleeveless tank, the scoop neck displaying the top of his pecs. It stretches over his broad back, his lateral muscles bulging through the wide arm openings.

Sweat makes his tattoos glisten. It reminds me of an oil painting that's just been created. I wonder how hot his skin is right now. My fingers move to the windowpane; I glance at them, then scold myself and yank my hand down to my side.

I'm pathetic.

How can I long for him so badly after Wyatt warned me to stay away?

At least he can't see me gawking at him. It's especially good he can't hear me, because when he stands up, drinking from a water bottle, spilling it down his shirt so the material clings to him, I groan.

I'm hopeful that he's done. Then my stomach sinks as he sets the bottle down, grabs the top of the porch's overhang, and begins doing pull-ups. He's exerting himself to the point of grunting. Every tendon under his skin flexes with effort. Is this what he had to do in school? It must be, all those physical drills are the reason he's become so solid.

I swallow then tap my own cheeks like I'm smacking sense into myself. I really want to go outside and workout, like he is. But if I open the front door he'll see me. Use the kitchen exit, I tell myself. With a final hungry glance at his bare arms, I jog to the kitchen and through the French doors.

The air outside is a bit cool, in spite of the high sun. November is sweeping in. I love how everything smells so fresh. While I adore summer, there's something special about the gentle march of autumn as it takes over the land.

The Bradley Estate is around seventy acres in size. It's shaped like a piece of toast, with the two big curves the furthest from the house—this is where the preserve is nestled. There are trees around the entire property that gives it privacy. Most are behind the huge green fence that keeps people out—and me in.

I start out at a low impact run, enjoying the way the grass cushions the bottom of my shoes. The light windbreaker I put on quickly becomes too warm. My hot breath explodes in the air, leaving white wisps behind me like breadcrumbs.

It takes me a few minutes before I reach the fence to the west of the house. From this angle, if I look back, I can see the driveway. But I wouldn't be able to see Dominic - he was too close to the doors. So there's no reason to look back.

Inhaling until my lungs burn, I run harder. My muscles are warming up, my pace finding a rhythm. I'm all the way towards the preserve, my blood clapping in my ears, before I hear a twig crack.

Peering towards the house, I spot Dominic running at me. He's half an acre away, close enough that I can see the determination in his serious face. His hands pump at his sides, slicing the air. His form is perfect.

It's how he caught me when I tried to escape.

Is he trying to catch me again? Spurred on by that memory—and my own competitiveness—I face forward and sprint. I don't know why he's coming for me, and I don't care. I planned to avoid him today and that hasn't changed.

Let him chase me. Let him see what I can really do.

Picturing the days I would run on all cylinders while racing Kara, I burst over the green yard towards the distant trees. The fence is straight ahead. Dominic's pounding feet are all I can hear, my body coiling hard. I'm about to slam into the green metal.

At the last second I shift on my heel, darting to the right. I glance back just in time to see him try and copy me. His foot stumbles on some fallen leaves, his shoulder ramming the fence. His shock is delicious; I laugh, and he looks straight at me.

I almost fall from the power of that stare. Dominic's fingers wrap around the fence, his muscles bulging, glinting in the sun. Using the fence to slingshot him forward, he chases me again. It's different this time. I can sense it in the air, taste it on my tongue.

Dominic has no plans to let me get away from him. Our game has grown unspoken stakes. I don't know what he wants, but I'm sure if he catches me, he'll get it.

My chest is struggling as I demand that my body run harder. Every breath is made from fire. Gasping, I shoot a nervous look over my shoulder. I knew he was close, I could hear him, but I didn't know he was just a few feet away.

His hand swipes out—he's going for my hair. No, not this time! I grab my braid and hold it tight, keeping it near my body as I sprint. The fence is to my left, tree branches overhead drifting red leaves, casting our part of the estate in cool shadows. I'm losing energy. My desire to win our little race isn't enough.

Dominic brushes my elbow. That one touch tells me I lost.

With a surprised shout, I topple onto the ground, tucking myself into a ball so I won't get hurt. I half roll, half slide on my shoulder. Dominic's weight crashes on me; he fell, too, and less gracefully than I did.

I'm dizzy from the fall, and too busy filling my lungs with much needed oxygen to get back up. Lying there, I gaze upwards at the sky. There's no sky, only Dominic. He's stretched over me, naked arms on either side of my head, his hands gripping the grass. There's a leaf in his coffee-colored hair and wild heat in his eyes.

His mouth is open so he can draw long breaths. He's just as exhausted as me. We both pushed ourselves to the limit. I can see all the way inside his mouth. His teeth are porcelain white, perfectly even. They look extra sharp because of his rapid panting. Primal.

“Why did you run from me?” he suddenly asks.

I shift under him; he doesn't budge. His biceps ripple, rock-hard thighs trapping my legs in place. He's the most beautiful cage I've ever been in. “Why did you chase me?” I spit back.

His mouth shuts tight. All the air comes out of his nose. He's acting like he's regained his composure while I'm struggling. “I was working out in the driveway. I spotted you jogging in the distance, so I—”

“You thought it was okay to come hauling ass after me?” I say, searching his face for some hint of guilt. “You didn't think I went out the kitchen door because I wanted to be alone?”

There's no guilt waiting for me. Dominic's head dips lower, his body pressing into mine, pushing me into the grass. The pressure is delicious. I gasp softly, unable to stop it before it gets free. “Laiken, you're projecting way too much.”

“I'm what?”

He studies my face then tilts his head so that I can see nothing but the dark line of his eyelashes. “You don't need to avoid me. Unless you're afraid something will happen between us.” As he talks, he grinds his hips against mine. The heat of his body is through the roof thanks to his workout.

I run my tongue across the contour of my lower lip. I'm searching for words that I don't have.

Dominic brings his molten-core stare back to me. He inhales quickly. “You smell so fucking good. Like salt. And strength. And sex.”

My inner walls flex; I wiggle my hips, unable to stop it. He grins as he feels my soft tights rubbing against his workout pants. The material we're both wearing is thin. His erection has now here to hide. It digs into the groove of my pussy straight through the clothing, promising me sweet, wonderful, dirty things.

Things I can't imagine.

Things I want to.

“Dominic,” I whisper.

“Hmm?”

Channeling all the strength I have, I press my hands to his chest—and I regret it, because his muscles are spectacular. “You know I won't do this. I'm not giving in.”

At first he doesn't move. “Look me in the eye and tell me you don't want me.”

I can't do that. I'm not a good enough liar.

Lying there, I drop my hands from him and go limp. My eyes shut as I seek enough strength to turn him down.

His shadow clears away from me. The pressure of his weight vanishes, too. When I open my eyes, Dominic is standing apart from me. Confused, I sit up with my hands on the ground for support.

Staring at the house, he processes something. “I told you I'd wait until you broke for me. If you can manage to close off like you just did, then you're not there yet.” The wind runs its fingers through his hair. All the sweat that weighed it down is gone, the pieces ruffling gently in the breeze. “But,” he says, touching his lips, like he's reliving our kiss in the library. “It won't be long now.”

I watch him jog back to the house. I don't get up until long after he's gone. My heart is pumping like it's about to fail, and it has nothing to do with all of the running I just did.