The announcement for our stop sounds and Sierra releases the bar and turns away from me, standing in front of the door to wait for it to open. I step behind her and I’m about to settle my hands on her arms when she turns and points at me, holding on to one of the steel bars framing the door. “You do not touch me. I can’t think when you touch me. You make me crazy.”
“How firm are you on that no touching rule?” I ask, grabbing both of the bars, and bringing our bodies close, if not touching.
“I wouldn’t suggest you touch me and find out.”
The doors open and she rotates, charging forward into the empty train station, and I am quick to step to her side, keeping pace up the stairs. “For the record, the feeling is mutual, sweetheart,” I say. “You make me just as crazy. I’ve broken every rule in my book for you.”
She stops walking, and whirls on me. “You’ve broken rules? Really? I’ve broken every rule of survival in my book for you and those rules exist for a reason. I want to stay alive and I want everyone else to stay alive.” She points at me and firms her lips. “That means you, hero boy.” She turns and starts moving up the stairs again.
“Hero boy?” I ask in disbelief, keeping pace with her. “Sweetheart, I haven’t been a boy since I gave up my virginity to Ashley Cameron when I was fourteen and she was seventeen.”
“Don’t call me sweetheart,” she says.
“Are we back to that again?”
“Yes, and I’d bet money that Ashley Cameron gave it up to you, and not the other way around.”
“Is that a compliment or an insult?”
“It’s a simple observation,” she says.
At that point, I decide to do what the Walker men rarely do with their women: shut up before I dig a deeper hole. We clear the stairs and walk across the expanse of the terminal. She doesn’t look at me, which is probably good. I’m pretty sure looking at me would just piss her off all over again right now.
We reach the final set of stairs that lead to the street and I pull my phone from my pocket, readying auto-dial for the moment I have bars. Once that happens, I violate Sierra’s damn rule by catching her arm. “Don’t exit to the sidewalk until I get the all-clear.”
She turns to face me and gives me a lethal stare, but follows it with a nod of understanding, which is when I punch the auto-dial and release her arm before I get punched. Which would be okay if I could make her kiss me and make it all better. But that time isn’t here yet.
“Update,” I say when Jacob answers.
“All clear,” he says. “And uneventful. Ju-Ju went home. No guests.”
Because he doesn’t need to hunt anymore, I think. He’s already picked Sierra, and I don’t like that answer. “Let me know if that changes, no matter what time it is,” I say.
“Copy that,” Jacob says, and we disconnect.
I motion Sierra forward and stick my phone back inside my pocket. We clear the tunnel, and start the short walk to my building. Sierra doesn’t ask for an update, but our status is fairly obvious. We’re safe. She’s safe, the way I intend to keep her. That’s the entire goal here. Well, not the entire fucking goal. I want her with me when I’ve never wanted any other woman with me beyond a fuck. And yeah, sure, I want Sierra naked. Sooner rather than later, but ultimately, with me, in my home, in my bed, and I don’t question why. I’ve watched three Walker men go from highly single, to obsessed with a woman, and I now accept their explanation, which is: There is no explanation for how one woman, one chance meeting, changes everything.
I follow her rule. I don’t touch her, but the idea of Ju-Ju sitting at home and fantasizing about killing her has me walking really damn close to her. We cross the street and enter my building with her silent treatment rock solid and going nowhere. I don’t like it. I’m going to end it. Once we’re at the elevator I punch the button and the doors open instantly.
We step into the car and I key in the code. Sierra flattens on the left wall. I don’t go to her, or pull her to me and kiss the fuck out of her. I want to. I really fucking want to, but my gut says that would be a mistake with Sierra in her current state of mind. Instead, I claim the opposite wall, my hands on the steel rail behind me, a way to occupy them before they end up all over her.
We stare at each other, and where there had been anger minutes before, now there’s combustible anger, the kind of anger driven by how much we want to fuck again. In my book, that’s progress. “Come here, Sierra,” I order, thinking about how much I really want my fingers in those long strands of brown hair.
“No,” she says.
“Please,” I say.
“No. You come here.”
I smile and with zero reservation, push off the wall, closing the space between us to stand in front of her. “Here I am. Now, what are you going to do with me?”
“How is it that I told you what to do, and I still feel like I did what you wanted me to do?”
“Because getting closer to you again, no matter how it happens, is always what I want and not something I’ll ever turn down.” The elevator dings and I push off the wall, backing up and motioning her forward. The doors open, and she gives me an intense look and then exits the car. I follow, and I really don’t mind the way she’s charging forward and leaving me. I do enjoy her ass in those jeans, but I’ll like it better naked. I catch up with her and step to her side, and when we reach my apartment, she does the unexpected. She doesn’t wait on me. She keys in the code and I love it. She’s pissed but she’s not running from me. It shows a commitment level I doubt she understands, but I do, and if she was anyone else, I’d be objecting, not celebrating.
But I am celebrating, damn near ready for party hats and balloons. Or the alternative version with whiskey and sex. She enters the apartment and I join her, shutting the door and locking it. She flattens on the door beside me. “I’m not going any further than right here until we talk.”
“Okay,” I say, stepping to her, my legs framing her legs, my hands at her hips. “Let’s talk.”
Her hands go to my wrists. “I told you. I can’t talk when you’re touching me.”
“That isn’t exactly what you said, but close enough. And I’m going to fucking lose my mind if I don’t touch you.”
“You don’t get to be in control. That’s the entire point.”
“Sweetheart, I’m not one to just lay back and let you ride me, but if that’s what makes you happy…”
“Asher!” She grabs my shirt, which actually turns me on, but I don’t think now is the time to tell her that. “You know I’m not talking about sex. You are trying to take over my life.”
“I’m saving your life,” I say.
“And I’m saving yours. What part of ‘I won’t let you die’ do you not understand?”
“I told you—”
“Don’t say you won’t die,” she says, her voice vibrating with emotion. “Do not say it again. You’re human. Just like I was when my car crashed.”
There is panic in her voice, real fear, and I pull her close, my hand at the back of her head. “Easy, sweetheart. We can do this together.”
“We won’t work if you—”
“We already work,” I say, my mouth slanting down over hers, my tongue licking into her mouth, a deep slide of tongue followed by another. She resists at first, her hand pressed to my chest, her arm stiff, but then comes her soft moan that is hot as hell, followed by the softening of her arms. I deepen the kiss, drinking in the taste of her, sweet and fierce all at once, molding her closer, but she pushes against me, tearing her mouth away.
I don’t give her time for the objection sure to follow. I scoop her up and she yelps. “What are you doing?” she demands, but at this point I’m already at the steps and climbing.
“Taking you to my bedroom, where I’ve wanted you all night.”
“I said I wasn’t leaving the doorway until we talked.”
“We did talk,” I remind her, “and we’ll talk some more.”
“Let me go, Asher.”
“Never.”
“Put me down.”
“Almost,” I say, clearing the top step and walking into my bedroom, where I elbow on the light. “I brought you up here for a reason.”
“To get naked,” she says
“Well yeah, sweetheart,” I say, setting her down with me between the bed and her. “That’s a given, but we could have done that downstairs and that’s the point.” I catch her hand where it’s landed on my chest before she can escape. “Let’s talk about those broken rules. I’ll tell you mine. You tell me yours. Deal?”
“Yes. Okay. Deal. I’ll go first. Don’t get close to anyone. Don’t even make eye contact. Don’t let anyone in my personal space. Don’t ever say his name. Your turn.”
“Don’t get close to anyone. Don’t bring women here. Not to my home. Not to my bedroom. Ever. I tell women up front. I fuck. I don’t fall in love. And we’ve already agreed that you’re going to tell me his name.” I slide my hand under her hair and drag her mouth close to mine. “I want you here, Sierra. You belong with me now. And I don’t know what this is between us, but I want to find out.”
She closes her fingers around my shirt. “You have to stay alive to find out.”
I cup her face. “That’s the point I’m making. I’m not going anywhere. In fact, I’ve never been so present in my life.” My mouth closes down on hers once more, and the minute my tongue touches hers, she is right here with me this time. She kisses me, she melts into me, her soft curves all snug against me, making me harder, and hotter. I tangle fingers in her hair, wanting her submission in a way I have never wanted another woman’s. And where I’d resisted demanding too much of her earlier, now, I want it all.
I tear my mouth from hers, and back her against the bedpost, one hand at her hip, the other on the post above her head. “He doesn’t own you.”
“He does or I’d be free.”
“No. You’re with me now. You know it. I know it. I’m all in, sweetheart. Sierra.”
“Asher,” she whispers, slipping her hand under my shirt, soft skin that is cool and yet hot. Everything about her makes me hot. “I don’t mind if you call me sweetheart. I actually like it, unless I’m mad at you.”
“Easy solution. Don’t be mad at me.”
“Don’t make me mad.”
I laugh. “Right. Well. Let’s resolve to not stay mad for long.”
She laughs. “Probably the best choice.”
Our laughter fades, the air around us charged. “All in, Sierra. That’s the only way we do us. Say it.”
“I can’t. He does own me, Asher.”
“No. If he owned you, you wouldn’t be here.” I kiss her, a quick, deep, passionate kiss, my hands pressing under her shirt, and caressing it up her body until I pull it over her head. “If he owned you, I wouldn’t be doing this.” I toss her shirt away, and unhook her bra, sliding it off her shoulders. “Or this.” I reach up and tease her nipples. She arches her back and I cup one of her breasts, while my other hand slides between her shoulder blades and molds her to me. “Who owns you, Sierra?”
“Stop asking me that.”
“Not until you let go of him.”
“I’m not holding onto him.”
“As long as you say he owns you, he does.”
“And you think you do?” she challenges, anger sparking amber in the depths of her beautiful blue eyes.
“You own you,” I say, turning her to face the bedpost, forcing her to catch herself on the wood, before I lean into her, my lips at her ear. “But if I have to own you to get you to let go of him, I will.”