With You

“Mouse, I’m not fucking you on the floor of a barn, and if I don’t stop kissing you, I will fuck you.” I bit my lip to stop myself from smiling—he liked the kiss. Sculpt jumped to his feet and held out his hand. “I’m taking you home. And tomorrow, you’re hearing me play.”



“I am?” His voice already turned me on. I couldn’t imagine him singing, what it would do to me.



He hauled me to my feet and swept my hair back over my shoulder, his fingers lingering on my neck. “I’ll pick you up after work tomorrow.” His fingers laced with mine, and he walked me out of the barn.



I stopped dead. The horses were grazing on the hillside. The sun was setting over the horizon, and their coats glistened in the orange rays. Magnificent.



Sculpt moved behind me, wrapped his arms around my middle, and pulled me snug against him. “I see you looking for them the moment we drive up. They’re something special to you, aren’t they?” His words whispered across my ear, and I shivered. God, hearing him sing . . . I was going to lose myself to him.



“Yeah. I love them.” And then I told him my dream, one I knew was just that—a dream. I was practical, and I knew horses were a luxury. I’d have to win a lottery to have my dream come true. “I want to have my own horse farm one day. I’d take in abused and unmanageable horses and teach them how to feel beautiful and proud again.”



He moved in closer, and his finger tucked my hair back behind my ear. “A trophy, Eme.”



The lead mare lifted her head and whined, her flank quivering with her call. The brilliant sleek chestnut started trotting up the hill, and the others followed.



I came here whenever I could, learning how they communicated, watching their body language with one another. I’d even been taking riding lessons for the past two years, and the owner of the barn let me work off payment by grooming the horses. I’d spend the rest of my life on a horse farm if I could, but instead I was going to college for accounting in September. My dad used to say, “Princess, you’ve a head for numbers. My little accountant.” So, I was hoping to get my accounting license then maybe get into a corporate company. Matt said when I graduated I could be his accountant for the bar, but I wanted to do this on my own. I’d relied on Matt enough throughout my life in order to get away from my mother.



Sculpt licked the tip of my ear lobe, and a thrill of excitement swept through my body. “I’ll bring you here anytime you want.”



Was I crazy believing that this guy liked me? Why did he want me when he could have any girl? I wasn’t even a blonde for God’s sake.



I followed him to the bike, then slid on behind him. His hand squeezed my thigh, and I stopped fiddling with my helmet strap to look at him.



“It goes both ways, Mouse.”



“What?”



“If I have you, I’ll never touch another woman.”



Chapter 3



The next day I was making my last espresso before ending my shift when I heard the ding from the door and Georgie’s gasp of, “Get me some new panties.” She always said that when a hot guy came in. “Well . . . look who it is.”



Georgie owned the coffee shop. She was twenty-four, with pink streaks in her hair and probably more tattoos than Sculpt. She was also sweet, sassy, and her no-bullshit attitude had many men dropping their jaws. I think she tried to shock them and took delight in making them squirm. The only one she couldn’t make squirm was Deck, a friend of hers. I don’t even think Deck smiled.



But Georgie had no trouble trying her skills on the newcomer. “Hey there delicious. Been a while. What can I put between your sweet lips?”



I sputtered a laugh, turning with a steaming hot cup in my hand. The second my eyes hit Sculpt my breath seized. He stood at the counter in overly worn blue jeans and a white T-shirt with his sexy bedroom hair messy from the light breeze. He caught me staring, and his eyes darkened which sent a twinge deep in my womb. He winked then met Georgie’s engrossed gaze. I almost fainted at seeing him wink; it just wasn’t Sculpt. He was stoic and stern, not playful.



“Just Emily, Georgie.”



Georgie’s eyes widened, and then she looked over her shoulder at me. “Don’t tell me the make-out worthy eye candy you’ve been gabbing about for weeks is Sculpt?”



“Oh my God,” I muttered beneath my breath, utterly humiliated. My hands shook while I poured a shot of milk into the cup then walked over to the side counter and slid the espresso to the waiting customer. Georgie obviously knew who Sculpt was, and by Sculpt’s words he knew her. Wasn’t really surprising; Georgie knew a lot of people.



My cheeks felt like they’d been set on fire, and when I glanced over at Sculpt he was staring at me expectantly. “Make-out worthy? Did she say that, Georgie?”



Georgie’s brows rose revealing her dark gold-and-purple eye shadow. “Oh yeah. Girl’s been panting over you for weeks.” Then she leaned forward, both palms flat on the marble surface of the counter. “But being a cupcake doesn’t mean you know how to treat a girl. And I know you Sculpt, you don’t know how to treat a girl. Shit, don’t even remember you being with a girl. Treat this one like fucking crystal. She’s something special. You hurt her, you’re hurting me, and you know where hurting me leads.”



I walked up beside her. “Georgie,” I pleaded, hearing every word.



“Emily,” she retorted, standing up straight.



Sculpt looked completely undeterred by Georgie’s warning and met her steady gaze dead on. “I know she’s something special. Just have to convince her of that.” My personal rabble of butterflies took flight. “Not many women shock me. Eme did. Even better is underneath the mouse, I suspect lives a lion.”



“Ha. Yep. Don’t I know it.” Georgie put her arm around my shoulders and squeezed. “Break her heart . . . Well, Deck isn’t going to be happy. I think you know what he’s capable of.”



“Georgie, please.” I rolled my eyes and shook my head at Sculpt. “She’s kidding.” Although, I knew she wasn’t. Deck was scary.



Sculpt appeared to take her threat seriously though and nodded. “Where is he? I’ve been trying to reach him for weeks. Need him to look into something for me.”



She shrugged. “Gone. You know how it is.”



“If he contacts you, tell him to get in touch with me.”



Georgie’s eyes narrowed. “Yeah? Not liking the sound of that.”



“Need a call, Georgie.” His voice had gotten scary deep, and even Georgie paid attention to it, giving him a nod.



I’d known Georgie only a few months, since I’d started working at Perk Avenue to make some money before college. I also knew Deck checked up on her all the time.



She hated it, said it made her feel like a kid. I’d noticed he always scanned the shop and even went to check in the back as if he was searching for explosives or something. Georgie merely shrugged when I asked why he did that every time he came by.



Deck didn’t take her shit and continued to do it no matter how much she bitched—and Georgie knew how to bitch. Deck came by routinely, took his coffee black, and had yet to say anything besides Georgie’s name. Cold, stoic expression with a tribal tattoo running down the side of his neck, Deck looked fierce. The short buzz cut with a good amount of scruff on his face finished off the look. But his eyes were what softened his face as they drooped in the outer corners and were the brightest green I’d ever seen.



Except in the last few weeks Deck had been “out of town.” I wasn’t sure what that meant, but his absence was something significant, because Georgie accentuated the “out of town.” Deck being gone didn’t mean Georgie wasn’t checked up on; it meant another guy came by, and he was just as frightening as Deck.



Georgie always appeared unperturbed by Deck’s appearance and rarely looked at him as she handed him his usual coffee. He left five bucks on the counter for it every single time, even though Georgie tried to refuse it. She never put it in the cash register, instead slipped it into a kid’s pink elephant bank she kept under the counter.



“Mouse, let’s go.”



“Um, yeah.” I looked at Georgie, and she waved her hand.



“Go with your make-out-worthy guy. I’ll see you tomorrow.” She gave me a hug and whispered in my ear, “Careful, sweetie. He’s something different. Don’t want to have to send Deck after him . . . Deck can be a real dick. Sculpt’s face being fucked up—be a bitchin’ shame.”



I knew Sculpt was different, and that was why I wanted to take it slow. He was closed off and never talked about his family or his past. I figured maybe it took him a while to open up. Well, it wasn’t like I shared either. I had told him that I no longer saw my mother, but I hadn’t offered any explanation and thankfully he hadn’t pushed. At the time, I’d thought that had been odd. Most people would immediately ask why, but Sculpt never said a word. Maybe because he didn’t want to have to reciprocate and talk about his family.



I grabbed my purse, and Sculpt took my hand as I came around the end of the counter. His pinkie finger swept aside a stray strand of hair from my forehead, and from the way his eyes took me in, I swear my panties got damp.



“Where’re we going?” I asked as he led me outside.



He stopped beside a rusted old truck. “You’re going to hear me play.” He opened the door, and it creaked on its corroded hinges.



I jumped up onto the old vinyl blue seat and reached out, my hand touching his chest before he moved away. “Are you any good? Cause I hate whiny voices and am not a fan of the screaming hard rock stuff. Gives me a headache, actually.”



He leaned in close, his eyes flashing, and the corners of his mouth curving upward. God, I wished he smiled more often. “When I scream Eme, you’ll love it. And I won’t be giving you a headache, I’ll be taking it away.”



Holy shit. A deep ache moved into my womb and settled in like it was staying for a while. Damn it, I was putty in his hands. Please don’t hurt me. Please don’t hurt me. I’d lost the only family I had in the world —my mom didn’t count, and I didn’t want to go through anything even close to being so cutting again as losing my dad.



My dad had been my rock; my mom the hammer smashing the rock. Dad called me his little princess; mom called me the garbage that ruined her life. Of course she never said that when my dad was around. It got worse after my dad died of lung cancer when I was ten. Then she became a full-time bitch, and that was when I started running away to Matt and Kat’s who were dealing with their own grief at the time. Sometimes, my mom didn’t notice I was gone for a good twelve hours. She missed me when she needed something done, and suddenly I wasn’t around to do it.



Sculpt’s mouth was so close I sucked in his breath as I inhaled, and it made my body come alive. I couldn’t imagine what was going to happen when I heard him sing. All thoughts vanished as his hands came on either side of my face and held me still—not that I was going to go anywhere with him standing there looking at me like I was the only woman in the world.