Until You

Screw it.

Throwing off a sweaty, black T-shirt in exchange for a clean, black v-neck, I snatched my keys off the bedside table and bounded down the stairs.

“I’m heading out for a while,” I said as I passed my mother in the kitchen. “See you Monday.”

My hands shook, even though I’d been coming here nearly a year already. I hated looking the f**ker in the face, especially when he made these visits as awful as possible. I knew he got special privileges for cooperating, but I had no doubt that he enjoyed every sick word that came out of his mouth, too.

“It’s Friday. I’m not supposed to have to see you until tomorrow,” he grumbled, sitting down at the table in the visiting room.

I forced myself to look him in the eye and even out my tone. “You’re calling Jax again. It stops now.”

He laughed me off. “That’s what you said last time, but you’re not in control, Jared.”

Yes. I. Am.

“You’re not even allowed to make calls.” After I reported it to the warden last time, he’d lost the privilege of making unsupervised trips to the phone.

Shrugging his shoulders with palms up, he answered, “And yet, I find a way.”

It was only a moment. But in the time it took for my chest to sink and for me to break eye contact, he knew. He knew he was right, and that I was powerless. Maybe it was the guards letting him make calls for favors, or maybe he had a fellow prisoner helping him out, but we both knew there wasn’t a damn thing I could do to stop him.

I could never stop him.

“Leave him alone.” My lips moved, but I barely heard my own voice.

“What bugs you more?” He leaned in and narrowed his blue eyes. “That I call him and not you, or that you can’t stop me? I keep telling you, Jared, you have no power. Not really. It may seem like you’re the one in control, because you’re out there and I’m in here, but I’m the one that haunts you. Not the other way around.”

I stood up and stuck my hand in my pocket, gripping the fossil necklace so hard that I thought it would break.

“Fuck you,” I growled and walked out.

Chapter 9

“Oh, Jared,” Piper gasped my name as I devoured her neck. Gripping her hair and pulling her head back, I tried to get lost in her perfume and her body.

“I told you not to talk,” I whispered softly against her skin. “Do as you’re told.”

Hats off to the Bull pounded downstairs, and I could hear voices coming from all sides, both inside and outside the house.

Piper had come over to my party, uninvited, and I took what was offered. Noise, activity, distraction.

Distraction from the pull next door.

Distraction from my father.

That son of a bitch was right after all. The nightmares that kept me awake? The ones I had to drown out with sleeping pills just so I could get through the night? All of it was me being weak.

“I’m sorry,” she giggled. “That just feels so good.”

I had one hand buried in her thick, dark hair, and my other hand inside of her panties, my fingers pushing inside of her as she squirmed against the wall of my bedroom.

I grappled at Piper, looking for the magical body part that would get me zoned in. I peeled down the top of her dress, cupping her br**sts, kissing her lips, but none of it brought me the peace I wanted.

I’m hoping Jared has forgotten all about me.

I grabbed Piper and hauled her up into my arms, carrying her to the bed. The peace would come when I was inside of her. Then I would be happily lost.

“Jared!” I jerked my head towards the pounding on the door.

“Go away!” I shouted as Piper unfastened my belt.

“That girl? Tate?” my friend, Sam, asked. “She’s downstairs, man. You better get down there.”

And I halted what I was doing and sat up.

“What the hell?” I mumbled.

Why was she at my house? I looked at the alarm clock that read after midnight.

“Tate?” Piper said, still laying back on the pillows. “I thought you said she was still gone.”

I climbed off the bed. “Just get dressed, Piper,” I bit out.

“What?” she screamed, and I looked over at her. Her lips and nose were scrunched up, and her chest rose and fell with her hard breathing.

Piper was no attachment and no complications. I appreciated that about her.

But she was pissed, and I didn’t stop to explain. I never did. She knew better.

I never let on that I wanted more than a casual thing, and she’d either roll with it, or she could leave.

Yanking the door open, my friend Sam waited in the hallway, hands in pockets and looking uncertain.

“Sorry, man.” He held up his hands. “Madoc’s got his hands all over her. Thought I should get you.”

Fucking little shit. I barreled past Sam and down the hallway, ready to stick my best friend’s head into the toilet to wake him the f**k up. I was pretty sure he had a thing for Tate, but he was told, years ago, that she was off limits.

And what the f**k was she doing here anyway?

Coming down the stairs, I rounded the corner and immediately stopped, my stomach caving in from the loss of breath.

Jesus Christ.

She was so beautiful it hurt.

She was lost in thought, otherwise she would’ve seen me, too.

I pressed my hands above my head to both sides of the doorframe. It was my way of trying to look casual, like I didn’t care. But honestly, I just needed the support to keep my legs from caving beneath me.

My heart thundered through my chest, and I wished like hell that I could pause this moment, just look at her until the Earth fell apart.

Her hair was lighter, and her skin was darker, probably from being in the sun this summer, and her body had gotten more toned. More grown up. The shape to the back of her thighs had my mouth going dry. Her nose was still little, her skin still flawless, and her full lips all made her look like the perfect doll. And I never played with dolls, but I damn sure wanted to play with this one.

Right at that moment, I wanted everything from Tate. Everything. Her anger and passion, her hate and lust, her body and soul.

I wanted control of all of it.

I’m the one that haunts you. Not the other way around. My father invaded my head again. He and Tate were always in there.

Neither of them wanted me, and both of them owned me.

But one of them I could control.

“What is she doing here?” I snapped, staring at Madoc but completely aware of Tate snapping her attention my way.

Madoc kept silent, but I could see the corners of his mouth trying to suppress a smile.

“‘She’ wanted a word with you.” Tate’s voice was calm but there was a hint of snippiness to it. I smiled to myself, feeling the long-lost adrenaline warming my dry veins.

“Make it quick. I have guests.” Dropping my hands, I crossed my arms over my chest and tried to appear bored.

Sam and Madoc veered off into the kitchen, and Tate stood tall with her chin up. Her lips were pursed, and her eyes could light a fire.

I wasn’t sure what had happened with Madoc to make her so angry, or maybe she was just mad at me, but I finally felt in my element after a year of walking around dead.

“I. Have. Guests,” I repeated, when she didn’t speak right away.

“Yes, I can tell.” She looked behind me, and I knew Piper was still here. “You can get back to servicing them in just a minute.”

I narrowed my gaze, locking her in.

Well, well, well…Tate had a low opinion of me. Go figure.

Piper walked over and kissed me on the cheek. Saying goodbye? Reminding me she was here? I have no clue, but she always did little things like that at unexpected times, and it made me uncomfortable. Like she wanted more, and I was obligated to give it to her.

I stood there, willing her to stop waiting for something and just go home. Tate’s presence was doing me more good than hers, anyway.

After Piper took the hint and left, Tate spoke up. “I have to be up in about five hours for an appointment in Weston. I’m asking politely that you please turn down the music.”

Was she serious? “No.”

“Jared, I came here being neighborly. It’s after midnight. I’m asking nicely.” The begging was cute.

“It’s after midnight on a Friday night,” I explained, trying to sound as condescending as possible.

“You’re being unreasonable. If I wanted the music off, I could file a noise complaint or call your mom. I’m coming to you out of respect.” She looked around the room. “Where is your mother, by the way? I haven’t seen her since I’ve been back.”

Oh, Tate. Don’t go there. Don’t act like you know me or my family.

“She’s not around much anymore.” I kept my voice flat and unemotional. “And she won’t be dragging her ass down here in the middle of the night to break up my party.”

She sighed, looking annoyed. “I’m not saying to ‘break it up’. I’m asking that you turn the music down.”

“Go sleep over at K.C.’s on the weekends,” I suggested, circling the pool table in the family room.

“It’s after midnight!” she blurted out. “I’m not bothering her this late!”

“You’re bothering me this late.”

The control was back, and my jaw twitched with a smile.

I felt calm. And very sure about who I was. It was strength, confidence, and trust rushing over me again.

“You are such a dick,” she whispered.

I stopped and glared, pretending to be angry. “Careful, Tatum. You’ve been gone for a while, so I’ll cut you a break and remind you that my goodwill doesn’t go far with you.”

“Oh, please,” she sneered. “Don’t act like it’s such a burden to tolerate my presence. I’ve put up with more than a little from you over the years. What could you possibly do to me that you haven’t done already?”

And I was so elated with the challenge that I almost laughed.

“I like my parties, Tatum. I like to be entertained. If you take my party, then you’ll have to entertain me.” I surprised myself by how low and unmistakably wanting my voice got. The images of how she could entertain me rushed through my head.

But Tate would never. She was a good girl. Brushed and flossed. Ironed her clothes.

And she didn’t do bad things in beds with bad boys.

She tucked her long, wavy hair behind her ear and pinned me with disdain. “And what disgusting task, pray tell, would you like me to do?” She waved her hand in the air, dramatically, and my blood rushed with how different she seemed.

She’d gotten smart with me before. And before France, she’d taken some risks.

But every time, she’d seemed nervous and on the verge of tears. Now, she looked perfectly comfortable, almost as if this was all a waste of her time.

Good.

Stepping up my game should be fun. And a welcome distraction.

Coming to stand in front of her, I felt heat and a familiar sweet ache in my pants.

Shit. A f**king hard-on right now?

My dick throbbed in my pants, but I tried to ignore it.

Yeah, my body was attracted to hers. So what? I was attracted to most things that wore skirts. Or pajama shorts with black hoodies and Chucks.

My emotions ran wild with Tate, but I knew I couldn’t f**k her. It’d be a cold day in hell before I gave her that kind of power over me.

But that didn’t mean I couldn’t enjoy the view, either.

“Take this off,” I grabbed the hem of her little black sweatshirt, “and give me a lap dance.”

Her eyes widened. “Excuse me?”

And I noticed the more nervous, and not so confident, break to her voice, and it was like music to my ears.

My gazed firmed up as I challenged her. “I’ll put on Remedy—still your favorite song?—you give me a quick lap dance, and the party’s over.”