Alex

It’s ten o’clock at night when my phone rings. The hairs on the back of my neck rise when I see it’s the security detail I have on Helen. Yes, I’m still having her followed around. Even though the hotel she’s staying at is in a better area, I still dislike it. Plus, I don’t know enough about the ex, the one who put that bruise on her face. I want to ask her more about that situation, but I know she won’t tell me. Not yet, at least. I’ve dug a little into the situation already, but I think she’d be pissed off if she knew I was invading her privacy. My PI’s preliminary report on Luke James tells me he’s thirty-two years old, currently unemployed but worked for fifteen years in construction, has a bunch of drug-related misdemeanors, and he’s living in their home, which was purchased with cash. I’m sure I can pay this guy to go away, but that would confirm his suspicions that Helen’s rich, which she isn’t. It would also upset Helen that I swooped in and fixed the problem with money. Plus, I don’t want to give a douchebag who hits women money to go away. What I want to do is inflict pain—physical bodily harm.

“We have a problem, boss,” Jimmy says, as soon as I answer. I set my laptop aside and stand up.

“Tell me.”

“Instead of going to her hotel, she’s been sitting in front of her house for the last two hours.”

“Her house?”

“Yes, the house that is on her license. The one that she owns but isn’t living at.”

“Okay?” I’m not understanding.

“She’s been sitting in her car, across the street. She hasn’t gotten out or moved or anything.”

“Is there a car parked outside the house?”

“A motorcycle. And the lights are on. Someone’s definitely inside. Do I have your okay to approach her?”

“Where are you?”

“In my car down the block.”

“Stay put. Text me the address. I’ll be right there.”

I grab my keys and wallet and rush out the door, following the directions Jimmy sent. It’s only a twenty-minute drive, but as I’m approaching, Jimmy calls back. “Hope you’re near. We got trouble.”

“Five minutes out.”

“Hurry up or I’m going in,” he says before hanging up.

I’m anxious when I arrive, not sure exactly what I’ll find. I spot Helen’s white Camry along the street, but then I see Jimmy’s black sedan parked on the grass, the door open. I look around in confusion, only to find that Jimmy’s got a man in a chokehold on the front lawn. More concerning is that Helen’s also on the ground, on her knees, with her palm covering her face.

I jump out of the car and run to Helen. “What happened?” I drop to my knees and take her face in my hand, pulling her palm away. There’s an angry handprint on her cheek, five fingers clearly marking her skin. Rage fills me.

“Who the fuck is that?” the man yells from behind me, slurring his words as he sways a little. “You whore! Is that what you’ve been doing? Now it makes sense. That’s why you haven’t been back home.”

A deep, guttural roar comes out of my chest and I jump to my feet. “Wait. No,” she pleads, her voice shaky. “No.”

Jimmy grunts as he continues to subdue the other guy. “Motherfucker backhanded her, pulled her by the hair, and dragged her out of the house.”

Without thinking, my fist slams into the man’s midsection, and with a loud oomph he tumbles back, together with Jimmy. “You enjoy beating women?” I hit him again. “Huh? Not so brave now!”

“Stop, please!” Helen, strong, confident Helen, cries out.

Jimmy regains his footing and holds the guy even tighter. “Call the cops,” he instructs.

The guy spits out a wad of blood onto the lawn. “Yeah, call the cops. You’re trespassing on my property, then you hit me. So, yeah, call the fucking cops.”

I ignore the belligerent sonofabitch and call the police while he spews a string of curses at Jimmy, who’s managed to get the guy to his feet and is shoving him roughly onto a bench on the front porch of the house. From one of the dozen pockets on his cargo pants, Jimmy takes out a white plastic restraint and zip-ties the man to the bench. “Don’t fucking move,” he warns.

“Go fuck yourself,” the guy says before turning his rage onto Helen. He tries to stand up as if he forgot he’s cuffed to the bench, and then falls right on his ass. “Bitch, if I see you sneaking around in my house again, I’ll—”

“It’s not your house!” Helen screeches and she lunges toward him, but I catch her by her midsection just in time to stop her. “It’s my house. Mine!”

He smiles, creepily, blood coating his teeth from the earlier scuffle with Helen and Jimmy. “Oh, sweets, which you bought with illegal money, bitch. You told your little boyfriend that? Maybe I should tell the cops.”

“Shut up, Luke!” she screams again, and I struggle a bit to hold her back. “I didn’t do anything wrong! Tell the cops, tell whoever you want. I’m getting my house back, and I’m getting a divorce from you! I’m done playing nice.” Just as their argument starts to escalate, the police arrive. Jimmy shows them his security license and explains what transpired.

“I was waiting for him to leave so I could get the rest of my clothes,” Helen softly explains to me, while Jimmy talks to the officer. “I have another nice dress for that event coming up. But after he finally left, he came back.” She’s shaking so hard, I pull her into my arms. “He came back. I waited for hours for him to leave and then he came back. I didn’t know he’d be here. I didn’t know.”

“Shh . . . it’s okay,” I say, trying to soothe her.

“Get your hands off my wife, motherfucker,” the guy—Luke—slurs. He’s so drunk, his words come out in spurts.

The police cut the ties, stand him up, and take him to the cruiser to question him. “Please stay put; we’ll be with you in a moment. We should call an ambulance—” the officer starts, but as I nod in agreement, Helen shakes her head side to side. “No. I’m fine. Really. No ambulance.”

The officer eyes her warily before walking to the cruiser to speak with Luke. I pull Helen up and help her to the bench that Luke was just on. Her trembling is even worse now. Again, I wrap my arms around her and softly run my hand up and down her back. “Shh, it’s okay. Are you hurt anywhere else?”

“N-no, just my face. It stings. And my head where he pulled my hair. I think I scraped my knee, but it’s nothing.” Her eyes water. She turns to me and I can see embarrassment on her face, which surprises me. It’s not at all what I expect to find. Anger. Fear, maybe. But not embarrassment. “I swear that this isn’t my life. I know it looks like drama follows me, but it’s not normally like this. For years I just went to work and came home, and nothing ever happened.”

“You don’t have to explain anything.”

“I know what you think of me and this . . . show . . . isn’t helping.”

“Why were you with that man to begin with?”

“He wasn’t always like that. When we met, he was kind and hardworking. But then he began to change, slowly. When he found out my father was . . . well, my father, he thought I was rich and hiding it from him. We started arguing more and more. I’m not with him anymore.” She looks so vulnerable all of a sudden and I realize how tightly controlled she’s been carrying herself. “I hadn’t seen him in ten months. Then he suddenly reappeared. Since we’re married, I can’t just kick him out. Trust me, I’ve tried.”

“Helen . . . please let me help you with this. I have a team of attorneys that can have this made right in a week.”

She continues as if I hadn’t even spoken. “He wiped out my accounts. I had a small amount of savings. I was doing pretty well, I swear.” It genuinely breaks my heart that she’s so concerned with what I think of her.

“If it makes you feel better, you can pay me back. But for now, I’m taking care of this for you, sweetheart.” I surprise myself with the endearment that slips unwittingly out of my mouth.

She looks up at me with those big, watery eyes. Then, with a sigh, she nods. She doesn’t have a choice and I know it’s hard for her to accept my help. She takes my hand in hers and examines my red knuckles. “You need ice on this. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” I reassure her and try to pull my hand away, but instead, she kisses my it, tenderly.

“Thank you, Alex. I’m not good at accepting help.”

I smile, a warm, genuine smile for once.

I know money can’t buy happiness. But right now, money can buy a solution to her problem and I can’t let this continue. This abusive relationship. This living in a hotel. I’m glad she’s accepting my help because I was going to give it anyway—even if she declined it.

“Why don’t you go inside and pack a bag while things get resolved. You can stay with me tonight.”

She nods, defeated, then disappears into the house. I step down from the porch to where the police are talking among themselves. Luke is sitting in the patrol car, now in handcuffs.

“How’s it going over here?” I ask Jimmy, who’s leaning against one of the patrol cars.

“Sonofabitch is so drunk half his statement is nonsense.” He gestures toward the house. “Is she going to stay here?”

“No. She’s coming back home with me. Thank you for calling me. Take the rest of the evening off.”

“You got it, boss.”

I turn to the cops and ask, “Can I speak with him?” They look at each other with uncertainty.

“I still need a statement from the female,” one replies.

“She should be out soon.” Then I address Luke. “What will it take to get you to leave her alone? Get out of her house? How much?”

His nose flares. “A million dollars.”

I laugh at the absurdity of it all. It’s a nice little town house, but it’s not worth a million dollars.

“You know where she got the money? For the house? Bitch tell you?”

When I don’t respond, he continues. “She plays little miss naïve and broke, but bitch’s loaded. Father’s in prison. Famous dude. Look ’im up.”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“Means I ain’t ready to leave my home just yet.” He narrows his eyes and I understand exactly what he’s saying. The man wants money. A lot of it.

I see red, blind fury consuming me. I’m about to leap forward when one of the officers gets between us. “Well, looks like you’ll just have to leave your home for the time being. Mrs. James is pressing charges.”

I look over my shoulder to where Helen’s speaking with the other officers.

Luke yells loudly, “You don’t want to do this, Helen!”

“I absolutely want to do this. I should have done this the last time.”

Luke curses as the cops close the door to the vehicle. They say a few things to Helen, hand her a card for the domestic violence division as well as some pamphlets, and then they’re gone.

“I can’t believe how stupid I am,” she groans as she grabs her bag and hauls it over her shoulder. “I shouldn’t have come home until the divorce was finalized and a restraining order in place.”

I don’t disagree. Her bag falls down to the floor and she screams up to the sky. It’s loud and laced with years of pent-up frustration and anger. I look around, waiting for her neighbors to come out of their houses to see what all the commotion is about. But no one does, and even if someone did, she doesn’t seem to care. I pull her to me and hold her while she sobs into my chest.

“My face hurts,” she cries, her shoulders shaking vigorously. I run my hands down her hair to try to calm her.

“Come on, let’s go ice it.”

I reach down and grab her bag and walk her to her car. “Follow me home.”

Helen

I have to admit, I’ve missed the luxury of Egyptian cotton, of goose-down pillows, of a mattress that doesn’t have springs sticking up and pinching my back. Yes, I can sleep almost anywhere. But really, nothing tops sleeping in a luxurious bed. And tonight, now that I have my worn-out T-shirt back, and this comfy bed, I am looking forward to catching up on my sleep.

I practically purr as I get comfortable in the bed, and the silence of the house is wonderful. The fact that I don’t have to fear a roach landing on my head in the middle of the night—I want to cry with joy.

The only problem I have is that Alex is in the room next door. And that he took care of me tonight. He made sure my face was iced. He gave me Advil. He helped me with my bags. He promised me that things would look better in the morning.

He was kind, and if I’m being honest, it felt good to be told where to go and what to do. I’m tired of having to make decisions. No, not just decisions. Choosing between one shitty thing and another shitty thing. Alex, in his grumpy, demanding way, forced me here and I can’t say that I got a bad deal from this.

After tonight, I realize I don’t care what happened or what my father is going to tell me. I know Alex isn’t a bad person. I’ve always known that, despite everything. Maybe his dad was, maybe it was a misunderstanding—I don’t care. I decide that I’m going to make an effort to let the past go and give Alex the benefit of the doubt. Because truth be told, yes, he’s mostly a jerk when he doesn’t know how to express his feelings and his default goes to asshole mode. But he’s been pretty damn wonderful tonight. He’s made me feel as if I’m not alone.

So, not only do I go to sleep comfortably, nestled in a cocoon of delicious cotton, I go to sleep happy and hopeful for the future.

A big, warm body is over me and I’m fighting him. “No. Stop. Let go!” I thrash my arms. “No!”

“Helen. Helen. It’s me, Alex. You’re having a nightmare.”

I open my eyes and sit up quickly, looking wildly about the unfamiliar room. It’s been years since I’d had that dream: I’m in an amusement park with all my friends and family, laughing and having a good time. Then, I turn around and I’m in the middle of the ocean in a little raft, no land in sight. Completely alone. There are sharks circling me for hours and hours as I cry for help, knowing full well no one is coming to save me. You don’t need to be a shrink to figure out the meaning of that dream. I wake up feeling like the weight of the world is on my shoulders and there’s no one else to share it with.

“It’s me. You were dreaming,” he repeats. It must be the familiar feeling of luxurious sheets and bed, the safe feeling I have in Alex’s house, that is bringing back memories of the last time I felt this way.

I rub my eyes. “I’m sorry. I—I woke you.”

“I wasn’t sleeping.”

I look at the clock on the table beside the bed. It’s three-fifteen in the morning. My brows furrow and he shrugs. “I couldn’t sleep. Are you okay?” he asks tenderly, caressing my hair, his body hovering over me. Suddenly, something comes over me and I can’t help myself. Last time it was uncontrollable, nonsensical, rough sex against the wall. Tonight, I want to feel all of him slowly and with a clear mind.

“Kiss me, Alex.”

“W-what?”

I lift my arms and wrap them around his neck. “Kiss me,” I whisper, and before he’s had a chance to do so, my lips connect with his.

It’s not like the last time. This is soft. He brackets my face in his hands and kisses me slowly. “Last time we kissed it didn’t end well,” he mumbles between kisses.

“I was dumb back then.”

“Baby, it was earlier this week.” I feel him smile against my neck.

“Do you know how long I’ve dreamed of kissing you, Alex? Of making love to you? Our first kiss caught me off guard and so did the sex. This time I want to enjoy it.”

“Are you sure, Helen?”

“I’ve never been surer of anything in my life.”

He groans and pushes my T-shirt up and over my head, exposing my bare breasts. “You’re so sexy,” he breathes, getting on his knees to look at me. I feel laid bared and vulnerable under his gaze and I have to control the impulse to cover myself. “I’ve wanted to see you like this, naked, for a long time.”

“You have?”

“Are you kidding? You used to drive me crazy when you were a teenager, with your little bikinis.”

I smile and pull him back down, taking his face in my hands before kissing him. “I’ve dreamed about you making love to me since I knew what sex was.”

He smiles up at me and my heart swells so big, I think it’s going to explode out of my chest. He kisses me, languidly, for a long time. His mouth on mine is heaven. There’s no rush this time as his hand roams my body, inch by agonizing inch. He moves his palm down my arm to the tips of my fingers, which he then kisses one by one. “Oh God,” I whimper when he sticks my index finger into his mouth and then slides it out. Who knew the pads of my fingers had a direct link to my clit?

When he’s done with my arms he moves up to my shoulders, then my neck, which he worships with small nips along my collarbone, then down to my breasts. When he finds my nipple, and looks up at me as he slowly puts it into his mouth, my hips push up, wanting more. He takes that as a signal to move this party along, and he slides down and begins to explore my body—with his mouth. He kisses down my chest, leaving little wet marks all the way to below my breasts, making me crazy with need. “You are delicious.”

“Alex . . .” I moan, losing my mind in pleasure. And he still hasn’t touched me where I need it most. I can’t take much more of this. I need . . . more. More touching, more friction, more of him. But I need it lower. I reach between us, trying to reach for his pajama pants, but he grabs my wrist and pulls it up over my head. “Not so fast,” he says, pushing himself up and to the side. “I want to see you first. All of you.”

With his palms, he caresses my belly, then along the sides of my torso and down my thighs, his eyes staring hungrily at my body. “You are far more beautiful than I imagined, and I have a pretty vivid imagination, Helen.”

The vulnerability and sensuality of him just looking at me and getting to know my curves and planes with his hands is sending me right to the precipice. I never imagined that that was all it could take to bring me this close to an orgasm.

“You think . . .” he says, seriously, “if I touch you right here, you’d come for me?” He circles his fingers right below my bellybutton and then lower still, until he’s moving one finger up and down the slit of my pussy, pressing down on my clit with each upward stroke. But the touch is still light and playful, and I’m not in a light and playful mood right now.

“I can’t . . . .” I’m writhing beneath him. “I can’t . . .”

“You can’t what?”

“I don’t know! I need more. I . . .”

He chuckles and my eyes fly open. Hearing a laugh come out of Alexander Archer’s mouth brings me actual joy. I’d forgotten all about his throaty laugh. It’s so rare, I crave it. But at this particular point, I don’t want to see a smile or hear a laugh. That is not what I need from Alex. What I need is release. What I need is for him to touch me.

“You are out of words? Helen Blackwood, who can talk my ear off, is actually out of words?”

“Shut up!” I grab hold of his wrist and push him aside, even though I want to come, badly. I suddenly want to see him naked more than anything. I get on my knees. “Take off your clothes. I want to see you too.”

Without hesitation, he pulls down his pants and tosses them aside. Now we’re both on the bed naked. I’m naked with Alexander Archer! It’s surreal.

“What?” he asks.

I shake my head. “I just can’t believe I’m seeing you naked.”

He grins wolfishly, but then he takes me into his arms and kisses me, sweetly. My hands run down his body and he lays me gently on the bed. “I need you, Alex.”

“Say that again.”

“Alex, I need you.”

That’s all I have to say, apparently, because he doesn’t hesitate further. He pushes my thighs wide apart, leaving me in a vulnerable position. But before I can adjust, or cover myself even a little, he pushes two fingers inside me and does some sort of magical, “come hither” movement that makes me arch almost completely out of the bed. “Holy shit!” I yell, loudly.

“If I had more self-control, or if I weren’t a selfish bastard, I’d lick you until you came on my face. But, I don’t have any self-control and I am a selfish bastard, so I need inside. Now,” he grunts, sliding his fingers out of me just as I’m on the brink of climaxing.

With my face bracketed between his forearms, he uses his hips to center himself. My legs widen to give him more access, my hips move up trying to find the release I need, and he slides slowly into me. Just like that, we are skin to skin, and the weight of him over me is the best feeling in the entire world. I feel happy and safe, something I rarely feel. But most of all, I feel as if I’ve come home. The familiarity of Alex, and the rightness I feel at this moment, is overwhelming.

I wrap my legs around him, wanting him as close to me as I can get him. He thrusts slowly into me as he kisses my cheek, nose, lips, eyelids . . . 

It’s not noisy or frantic like the first time. In fact, when we come, we come at the same time and neither of us make a single sound. The only sign is the way his dick swells, his movements become a little ragged, his breathing harder, when he slides into me with one final, deep thrust, and stays firmly planted inside me as we both spasm in ecstasy.

It’s the best sex of my entire life.

Alex

“Tell me about your life,” Helen says, her nails softly raking up and down my chest. Her head is resting in the crook of my shoulder and she has a leg slung over my hip.

“What do you want to know?”

“Everything. What have you been doing all these years?”

“Working.”

She laughs, and it vibrates through my body. “Besides working.”

What have I been doing? I can’t think of one single thing I’ve done beside work. When she realizes I’m struggling, she adds, “What do you do for fun? Any girlfriends, engagements . . . ex-wives?”

I twirl her hair between my fingers as I watch the ceiling fan go around and around. “No special relationships. Absolutely no wife or engagements or anything even close to that. I’ve dated, had some short-lived relationships, but nothing significant.”

“Why’s that?”

“I’m not sure. Okay, well, I let my work consume me, I’m selfish, and women don’t understand me. Hell, most people don’t understand me.”

“It’s because you either don’t say anything at all or you say precisely what’s on your mind.”

“Do people like it when you lie to them? Or talk just to hear yourself speak with no actual point to be made?”

She shifts her head so that her chin is on my chest, and I look down at her big eyes. “No. I prefer silence over lies. But, it’s just polite to make small talk sometimes. When you don’t, it makes you look standoffish.”

I shrug. I have no interest in what others think of me, so I’d rather not speak if those are my options.

“I’m too old to care what people think.”

“Nah. You’ve always been that way, even when you were young.”

“And you’re the opposite. You had a lot of friends, said the right things, were in the cool crowd.”

“And look where that got me,” she says, then quickly adds, “But I’ve changed a lot, Alex. I’m not that same person you used to know.”

“So, who are you now?”

“I don’t really know. I thought I did, but being around you and all those people last night . . . I realized that I don’t belong there anymore. It’s not me.”

“It used to be very much you,” I say, caressing the side of her face. “And I liked it.”

“Well then, you may be disappointed, because it’s not me. I didn’t know any better back then. I was young and naïve and hadn’t experienced anything. Now, I know what’s really important, and YSL shoes and diamond jewelry isn’t what I need in my life to make me happy.”

“So, what do you need to make you happy now?”

She snuggles closer to me, wrapping her arm around my chest and sighing like a satisfied kitten. “Security. People who’ll stay.”

I don’t really know how to react to that admission. Right now, I love just being here with Helen—sated, content, feeling truly like myself. Not needing to pretend to fit people’s expectations. Not needing to make small talk. She may think I don’t know her anymore, but I am sure she still knows me, which is why I feel so at-peace with her right here. Except, I don’t want to hurt her, and what she truly needs in her life, I can’t give her. I can’t stay in Miami; I have a life in Seattle. A life that involves pretentious galas. A life that involves an entire town of people who hate her and see her as an extension of her lying, thieving father. Bringing her into that life would do nothing but cause her pain. I hope she understands that this can’t be more than sex. With our past, it’s always going to be messy. Hell, we have a truce built on not ever mentioning the past. What kind of relationship, other than sex, could we possibly ever have? If it were any other woman, I wouldn’t even be thinking of any of this. We’d have sex. We’d move on. But with Helen, I don’t want to hurt her. So, I can’t help but wonder where her head’s at.

Even if I could completely separate her from her dad, others won’t be able to. Moreover, I know I can’t convince her that she’s wrong about her father and I don’t know if I can get over that, completely.