His Every Need (16 page)

“Filet Mignon Rossini,” the waiter said. He turned and left.

“Steak with foie gras, black truffle, and cabernet sauce.” Trevor cut into this steak.

Allie did the same. After taking a bite, she decided it was the best thing she’d ever
tasted in her life. She glanced up to find Trevor staring, a strange look on his face.
When he saw her notice, his blank mask slid in place. She shifted her gaze and stared
at his nose.

“How is it, darling?”

“Very nice, thank you.” Her cheeks were becoming sore from smiling so much. But she
wasn’t backing down. Not when it bugged the hell out of him.

“By the way, since we’re here, I got a room. We haven’t fucked in a few days, what
with the relatives in the house. Try your wine, love. It’s absolutely delicious.”

Allie continued to smile, but it was an effort. He was pushing her as far as he could.
He wanted her to break. And a part of her wanted it too. She wanted to tear into him,
tell him what an ass he was, how much she hated the sight of him. Still, she refused
to give him the satisfaction. And she knew that her pleasant persona was driving him
apeshit and this was his retaliation. Well, she wasn’t backing down. He wanted a fuck-toy
mistress, he was going to get it. With both barrels.

She tilted her head, her heart pounding in her chest. No fear of tears now. She was
pissed. “Whatever you want, Trevor.” She took another bite of steak, but it had lost
its flavor.

“Excellent,” he said in an equally pleasant tone.

Allie cut her food but ate little of it. Eventually, the waiter took away her almost-full
plate. She wanted to eat, just to show him she wasn’t bothered, but her stomach wasn’t
that strong. She felt unsettled and suddenly nervous. Could she go through with it?
Or would she back down and let him win?

The waiter was back immediately with a green sorbet. Her stomach twisted into knots.

Laying down his spoon, Trevor regarded at her coolly. “Not hungry? Anxious for the
rest of the evening?” He didn’t seem to expect an answer. “I know how you feel. Let’s
get out of here, yes?”

He pulled out his wallet and left a few folded bills on the table, then walked around
and pulled back Allie’s chair. He leaned down and whispered in her ear, “So nice to
have an eager partner.”

When she stood, he placed a hand on her elbow, guiding her out of the restaurant and
back into the elevator.

***

What was it going to take to wipe that insipid expression off her face? He couldn’t
take it anymore. This wasn’t Allison. The Allison he knew was loving and gave him
hell and pulled him out of his cross moods. This woman was a bloody automaton, and
it was pissing him off.

They got off on the seventeenth floor. He pulled the key card out, and with an electronic
whoosh, the door opened. “I knew we wouldn’t be here that long—unless you’re up for
multiple rounds, darling—so I didn’t book a suite. Hope you don’t mind.”

“Not at all.” A king-sized taupe-covered bed dominated the space.

He spun her around and, with his hands on her shoulders, pulled her to him, her chest
pressed against his. “Have you missed fucking me, Allison?” If he’d been hoping for
a blush, a gasp, or any reaction at all, he was sorely disappointed.

“Yes, of course,” she said. “Would you like my hair up or down?” She stared past him
with wide blue eyes and waited, that stupid smile etched permanently on her lips.

Trevor was in a vicious mood. He knew exactly what she was doing. At first, she’d
been acting aloof and pleasant because he’d hurt her, but now she was doing it just
to get his wick. Well, if she thought she could push him over the edge, she didn’t
know who the hell she was dealing with.

He released her and took a step back to slide out of his jacket. Tugging at his tie,
his gaze never left her face. “Hair down.”

He watched as she once again removed the pins, placing them on top of the dresser
to her right, her hands shaking slightly.

Good. She wasn’t as indifferent as she pretended.

She ran her fingers through the long tresses and rubbed her scalp a few times before
letting her hands fall to her sides. Her hair was in disarray now.

He unbuttoned his shirt but left it on and unfastened the cuffs. With detachment,
Trevor looked her up and down. “Take off the dress.”

He watched her throat move as she swallowed. She hesitated briefly, then reached behind
her and began to unzip the back.

“No, slowly. I want to savor it.” His voice was icy, but he was hot, wanting her so
badly, he ached. But if he showed her one ounce of empathy, then she’d continue this
idiotic behavior, and he was going to end it, once and for all.

She still refused to look at him, pinning her gaze to his collarbone. Taking her time,
Allie unzipped the dress and slowly peeled the dark red satin over her breasts. Her
strapless bra was red as well. Trevor gritted his teeth as his cock grew even harder.
Rubbing a hand along his chin, his heart slammed into his chest. He’d missed this—seeing
her skin, her breasts, her long, smooth legs. Missed touching her.

Allison leaned forward, giving him an eyeful of her plump, confined breasts as she
slid the dress over her hips and thighs, finally stepping out of it and tossing it
on the bed. She turned toward him, and it took a moment, but her eyes slowly made
their way to his before dancing away, that polite, annoying smile glued to her lips.

He took one step toward her. The smile dimmed a bit. He took another step, and her
eyes widened and filled with panic. Damn, he didn’t want that reaction either. He
wanted her as she had been, receptive and laughing and touching her body. He wanted
what they’d had before, not this…lack of emotion, this detachment.

Reaching out, he pulled a strand of her hair between his fingers, rubbed the silky
texture. Then he bent toward her. He’d wanted her mouth, the taste of it, the feel
of those full lips beneath his. But she turned her head at the last second, and his
lips grazed her jaw.

He snapped his head back, eyes narrowed. “I’m in charge here, Miss Campbell.” He wanted
to kiss her, had been fantasizing about it. He liked kissing her, goddamn it. “Every
whim, remember?”

“But fuck toys don’t kiss.” She smiled serenely. “Would you like me to touch you now?”

Livid. No, he was past livid. Couldn’t remember being this pissed off. Ever. She wanted
to play with him? Fuck her. Literally. He would slam inside her and she could wear
that smile while he did it. He didn’t give a damn.

“Take your knickers off.” He was breathing hard and fast. Pulling the shirt off his
shoulders, he let it drift to the floor.

She hooked her thumbs in the waistband of her thong and wiggled her hips as she slid
the red material off her legs. She straightened and placidly stared at his throat.

With his jaw clenched, he unbuckled his belt, jerking it out of its loops and tossing
it on the dresser. She wanted to push him, aggravate him—to what end? Was this the
reaction she wanted? His anger?

“Now the bra,” he bit out.

She stretched her arms behind her and unhooked it, holding the cups over her breasts
with her hands. Her disheveled hair slid over those full tits, making his cock throb.
The dark blond hair covering her pussy had him licking his lips.

“Drop it.”

Her smile tightened a bit before ratcheting up a notch, and she dropped the bra at
her feet. Dear sweet Lord, she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever known. And she
wouldn’t look him in the fucking eye.

Trevor rubbed his chest. “Allison.” His voice was so hoarse he almost didn’t recognize
it. “Look at me.”

Swallowing, she lifted her chin and stared at his forehead.

“Look at me, Allie. Please.”

“I am, Trevor.” The smile slipped, but she tried to hold on to it. And failed. She
pressed her lips together in a grimace.

He should be glad. Glad that fake expression was gone. But in its place was a look
of such sadness, such despondency. “Look me in the eye,” he pleaded.

She stood there, naked and beautiful, and hesitantly, finally, met his gaze. “What
would you like me to do now?”

She could do anything she wanted, demand whatever she liked. He would be clay in her
hands.

Damn her. He couldn’t go through with it. Couldn’t touch her like this. He’d tried
to push her, get her to surrender, but he was the one who broke. He glanced away,
ashamed. “Get dressed.” He grabbed his shirt and jacket, hastily shrugging into them.
“I’ll meet you downstairs in the lobby.” He turned on his heel, closed his eyes for
a moment, then left the room.

Allie let out a shaky breath and staggered three steps to the bed, falling onto it.
No
time
for
crying
. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. Still, tears flooded her eyes. Looking up
to the ceiling, she blinked them away.

Why had he left? Wasn’t this what he wanted? Yes, he wanted to push her, she got that
much, but this was Trevor. He never stopped until he got his way. But he’d stopped
with her.

So what? That made him a hero?

She brushed a stray tear from under her eye. With trembling legs, she went into the
bathroom and splashed cold water on her face. Her cheeks were pale for a change, and
she felt sick to her stomach. She walked back into the room and numbly put her clothes
back on, shoved the hairpins into her purse. She stared at his belt, lying there on
top of the dresser, and left.

Trevor stood near the entrance, waiting for her to join him. He didn’t say a word
as he led her out of the casino and into the limousine. Simmons held the door for
them, and when Allie climbed in, she stared straight ahead. If she looked at Trevor
and his cold, blank face, she’d wind up in tears again.

The car moved forward. As it pulled into traffic, Trevor reached out and grasped her
hand, pulling it onto his thigh. Surprised, Allie did glance at him then, but all
she saw was his profile.

“I was angry and I hurt you. I’m a complete and utter ass. Please forgive me.” He
still didn’t look at her, but he gave her hand a little squeeze.

Now he apologized? Now, after that craziness upstairs? After forcing her to the brink,
almost pushing her into fucking him? She pulled her hand out of his and placed it
back in her lap but kept her eyes trained on his face. “No.”

He turned then. “What can I do?” His voice sounded raw and jagged.

She shrugged. She tried to plaster the smile back on, but it was gone for good. Her
heart had shattered like a piece of glass and she was hollow. “I don’t know.”

He took her hand again and placed it on his cheek. “Tell me what a horrible prick
I am. Hit me. Throw something at me. Just forgive me.”

Her tears came now. They flowed freely, and she was powerless to stop them. “I’m not
sure I can.”

He pressed his lips into her palm. “I won’t give up until you do.”

Allie didn’t speak again. She was confused, and although still angry, Mags’s words
came back to her.
His
heart’s very fragile, you see.
Allie heard the vulnerability in his voice when he asked for forgiveness.

Part of her—the small, stupid part—wanted to comfort him. God, how pathetic. The only
thing that was fragile around here was her brain.

But
he
apologized
. Trevor never apologized.

Did he get an award for acting human? He should have apologized days ago. Should never
have said such a hateful thing in the first place.

When they pulled in front of the house, Simmons opened the door. Allie tried to muster
a smile for him but couldn’t manage it, so she nodded instead. As she walked across
the drive, she felt Trevor’s presence behind her, but he didn’t touch her, didn’t
place his hand on her back or elbow. She shouldn’t miss it.

When she walked through the door, Brynn sat waiting on the bottom step with her arms
clutching her knees. She hopped up when she saw Allie.

“Where have you been? I’ve been trying to reach you for over an hour.”

Allie rushed to her sister, placed her hands on her Brynn’s shoulders. “What’s happened?
Are you all right?”

Trevor moved behind her. She could feel his body heat at her back.

“What’s wrong, Brynn?” he asked.

“Monica’s in jail. She needs bail money.”

“Oh my God.” Allie’s hands fell. Trevor gently gripped her arms, offering support.
She fought the desire to lean back against him, to take comfort from him. No, she
could handle this on her own. She tried to pull away, but his hands tightened. “Why
was she arrested?” she asked.

“Possession of pot and underage drinking.”

“Crap, I need to call Dad.”

“I already tried,” Brynn said. “I got his voice mail. I couldn’t get ahold of you
either.”

“I’m so sorry.” Allie ran her hand down Brynn’s long hair. “I had it on vibrate and
forgot to turn the ringer back on.”

“Where are Arnold and Frances?” Trevor asked.

Brynn shrugged. “They were busy, and I didn’t want to bother them with this.”

“No reason to worry your father right now, Allison. I’ll call my attorney and take
care of it.” He reached out and patted Brynn’s head before walking past them toward
his office. “It’ll be fine, I promise,” he said, glancing over his shoulder.

Allie guided her sister up the stairs and into her room. Brynn pulled away and flopped
down on the bed while Allie walked into the closet. “How did Monica sound?”

“She’s in a cell with a bunch of drunk people. She sounded scared.”

Allie shimmied out of the dress and threw on a pair of old jeans and a sweatshirt.
Walking back into the bedroom, she stuck her hands in the shirt’s front pouch and
settled herself next to Brynn.

“Is Monica going to be okay, Al?”

“Yeah, she will. But first we need to see if we can get her out of jail.”

“You’re not going to make me go back home, are you?”

She rubbed Brynn’s back. “No, but Dad has the final say.” Not that he seemed to care
one way or another. And that’s what pissed Allie off the most. She was worried sick
about her sisters while her dad was probably out having a great time with his new
girlfriend. Resentment and frustration warred with the anger. She was tired of being
the responsible one. She closed her eyes. But that’s why Brynn was here in Trevor’s
home, and it was why she was going to bail Monica’s sorry ass out of jail. Her sisters
needed her. Allie wasn’t going to abandon them.

“I don’t know why Dad gets to make the decision,” Brynn said. “You’re the one who
does everything. And I like it here. Mags and Nigel are funny. Besides, I’m going
to be in the wedding. Mags asked me to be…what did she call it? Not flower girl. Junior
bridesmaid, that’s it.” She smiled. “I like them. Why doesn’t Trevor?”

Allie smoothed a strand of Brynn’s dark hair, flipping it behind her shoulder. “They
weren’t always the best parents.”

A knock sounded at the door.

“Come in,” Allie said.

Trevor stepped into the room. He’d removed his tie and unbuttoned the top two buttons
of his white shirt. Her eyes drifted to his and this time, she didn’t look away.

“I found your sister. She’s in the North Las Vegas Detention Center. We can bail her
out now.”

Allie stood. “Let’s go.”

“I want to go too,” Brynn said.

“No, you stay here.” She slipped her feet into a pair of tennis shoes. “We’ll be back
soon.”

***

Trevor held open the sedan’s passenger door for Allie before walking around and climbing
behind the wheel.

“You don’t have to do this, you know. I can handle it myself,” she said.

He started the engine and pulled through the gate. “You’ve been dealing with this
by yourself for too long.” He twisted his head and glanced at her.

“I don’t need saving, Trevor.”

“Really? So you have the fifteen hundred dollars for bail money, do you?”

Gritting her teeth, she stared out the window. She owed him big time, and it was always
there between them, like an invisible wall. She was tired of being indebted to him,
wished they were on equal footing.
Then
you
never
would
have
met
him.

“We could, of course, allow her to rot for a few weeks until her trial. How does that
sound? She is eighteen, after all,” he said.

“Fine. So what do you want in exchange for this loan?”

When he didn’t answer her, she unhooked her seat belt and moved closer to him, placing
her hand on his leg, creeping it closer to the juncture of his legs. When she stroked
his semi-hard dick through his fly, she whispered in his ear, “What’s fifteen hundred
dollars worth, Trevor? How many handies will it take?”

He sharply pulled over to the side of the road and threw the car in park before turning
on her. He grabbed the back of her head, drawing her face close to his. “Stop this
at once. I want your forgiveness, you ungrateful brat.”

She did laugh then. How very Trevor-like. Demand forgiveness and insult her in the
same breath. “Tough. I don’t want to forgive you. You don’t deserve it.”

He leaned down and kissed her hard—and all too briefly. “I know I don’t deserve it.”
He let her go and gripped the steering wheel, rotating his shoulders. “Now, put your
seat belt back on.”

She sighed and snapped her belt in place. Just when she thought she had a handle on
him, he did something surprising and thoughtful. It was irritating.

“Besides, I’ve never bailed anyone out of jail before. I can cross it off my bucket
list.”

She slanted him a look. “Glad you think this is funny.”

He reached out and picked up her hand, bringing it to his mouth. “My lawyer assures
me he can get the charges dropped if she enters a drug rehab program.” He lightly
kissed her fingers. “And I heard from the detective today.”

“What?” She jerked her hand from his grasp. “Why the hell didn’t you tell me? What’s
Brad’s last name? Who is he?” She twisted in her seat and glared at him. The passing
headlights cast shadows onto his profile.

“I didn’t tell you because I was angry. The longer you kept that hideous smile in
place, the more I wanted to throttle you.”

He was unbelievable. Yeah, this was the Trevor she was used to dealing with, the selfish
jerk who did whatever he wanted and couldn’t care less about anyone but himself. “What’s.
His. Name.”

“Bradley. Thomas,” he said, mocking her cadence. “There, does that tell you everything
you want to know?”

She took a deep, steady breath. “Here’s a wacky thought. Why don’t you just tell me
what the detective said, so I won’t have to beat it out of you?”

“Well, we do have a safe word—Uruguay.”

“Trevor—”

He sighed. “Fine. He’s twenty-four, has three prior arrests, two for drugs, one for
a DUI. He’s lives in a house in North Las Vegas, and he’s three months behind on rent.”

Sounded like even more of a loser than she thought. “What does he do for a living?”

“No job on the books. The detective thinks he sells drugs. Pot mostly. He’s living
with four other people, two men, two women, not including your sister.”

“Perfect. How much are the detective and your lawyer going to cost me?”

There was a long pause. “You know, darling, you’re beginning to piss me off.” His
pleasant voice belied his words.

She knew from experience, the more polite and cheerful he got, the angrier he was.
Well too bad, she was angry as well—angry at him, Monica, her father, her dead mother.
Oh God, no, that wasn’t true. She wasn’t mad at her mom. How the hell could she be
mad at her mom for dying? Allie missed her every day.

She sighed and rubbed her forehead. She was a bitch for even thinking such a thing.
Her mother had been warm and big-hearted and cared about people. She’d depended on
Allie, had asked her to do one thing—take care of her family.

It shouldn’t be so goddamned hard. Why couldn’t her dad and sisters just do what they
were supposed to do? She had. She’d quit school and come home. Allie hadn’t complained,
run off the rails, or started dating someone inappropriate.

She needed to fix this. And she’d start by accepting Trevor’s help. She couldn’t get
Monica out of jail by herself, even though she’d argued otherwise. She’d get Monica
home and talk some sense into her. True, that hadn’t worked the thousands of other
times she’d done it, but she had to keep trying. It’s what her mom would want.

***

Trevor looked around the detention center with distaste. There was an odious mixture
of alcohol and unwashed bodies—never a pleasant combination. The uniformed man behind
the glass took their money, Allie signed a couple of forms, and then they waited for
over an hour in uncomfortable molded-plastic chairs.

Allie remained silent, but glared at him every once in a while. Usually after he said
something he thought was rather witty. But at least she was looking at him again.

He’d been serious before. He would stop at nothing until she forgave him. Bailing
her sister out of jail was a start. And the irony wasn’t wasted on him. Allie had
asked him to forgive his parents three days ago, and he’d been angry at her interference.
Now she wouldn’t forgive him, and it was tearing him apart. She was right—he didn’t
deserve it, but he wanted it just the same.

Clutching her release papers, Monica stepped through the door, clothed in jeans and
a dirty pink T-shirt. Her hair was a snarl of tangles and her cheeks were blotchy
from crying. Dark makeup circled her eyes.

Monica ran toward them, flinging herself into Allie’s arms. “Thank you. Thank you
for getting me out.”

Allie hugged her back. “Are you okay?”

The younger girl nodded. “Yeah. I’m good.” She glanced at Trevor with puffy eyes.
“What’s he doing here?”

Trevor stepped forward. “Let’s get out of here.”

Allie kept her arm around Monica’s shoulders. “He’s the one who bailed you out.”

Trevor held the door, and Allie threw him a look as she passed through it. “Thank
you,” she mouthed.

He didn’t want her gratitude. Not really. He wanted things to be the way they were
before his mouth got in the way—comfortable in each other’s presence, the sexual awareness
bubbling beneath the surface of every touch, every glance. He wanted her to want him.

Once they reached the parking lot, Allie rubbed Monica’s back. “So, why didn’t Brad
bail you out?”

Monica stiffened, stepped away from Allie. “Don’t start, okay? He’s on probation.”