Obsessive Compulsion (3 page)

Rider
…

I know, I know. Not
my
Charlie.

Doesn’t mean I wouldn’t run through fire to
keep her from becoming a victim of Kyle’s childish game. I’d fall
on my knees in front of her on razors and beg her to see reason if
I thought she’d been taking any of his advances seriously. So far,
it seems she’s just happy he’s feeding her café mocha addiction. My
Charlie is way too smart to fall for Kyle Masterson.

Rider!

Fuck, I can’t help it! I intake a sharp
breath and set down the rag I’ve been using to clean the same spot
on the bar top for the past ten minutes. I’m surprised I haven’t
rubbed off the lacquer from the wood.

Distance. That’s what I need. I need to stop
running into her at Shoe Village… for like a month. Or three.

I need to give my mind time to latch on to
something else. Something more attainable. Something more realistic
than a fiery redhead who makes my whole body twitch.

“Good evening, everyone,” Brandon’s voice
echoes into the club room and I snap to attention. When did he and
Emma arrive? Wait, where’s Emma?

“Good evening, Stable Master,” the club
members say in unison to greet him.

It’s a good crowd here tonight. Close to
fifty people. It’s almost the holidays, but that combined with the
shitty weather hasn’t seemed to stop people from coming out. I’ve
noticed our attendance numbers have been higher since Emma came
along.

Because of the Shoe Village publicity, the
other club members now know who she and Brandon really are. Most
club members try to keep a low profile to separate their Friday
night BDSM lifestyle from their everyday persona. I understand and
respect that, but it seems they respect and appreciate what Brandon
and Emma are doing.

“Tonight, we have a debut,” Brandon
continues, causing my brow to raise.

I haven’t heard anything about a debut,
which is odd. Usually, I handle the contracts we make new members
sign. What the hell is going on?

One of the large double doors behind Brandon
opens and Emma steps in, bringing smiles to everyone’s lips. She’s
in the outfit she wore three months ago for her own debut – white
leather, frilly bloomers and tiny pink bows. I smile, too, because
it’s adorable, and she smiles right back at me.

Actually, she’s grinning at me like I’ve got
something written on my face. So is Brandon.

What. The. Hell.

Then
she
walks in and everything
stops. Oh,
no
. No, no, no, no, no…

My jaw twitches rapidly while my eyes follow
her confident strides into the room to stand next to Emma. I
squeeze the glass in my leather-gloved hand so hard it cracks. This
was supposed to be my refuge. This was supposed to be my
obsession’s safety net. This was supposed to be my reprieve from
Charlie.

“Good evening, everyone,” Emma says in her
tiny voice, responding with her little giggle and a bounce of her
caramel curls when the members respond in unison. She takes
Charlie’s hand. “Tonight, I’m debuting my best friend. Please
welcome Scarlet.”

My hand tightens and the cracked glass
breaks.

Scarlet
. The name fits her and runs
through my veins like fire. If I wasn’t completely hooked on her
already, that would’ve been the last piece to pull me under. As it
is, I’m sporting a nasty cut through my leather glove, completely
ignoring it as I try to remember to breathe.

The shattering glass is covered by the
unified response from the members, welcoming Scarlet to our club.
All eyes are on my Charlie, my
Scarlet
, and I don’t blame a
single one of them. She’s downright gorgeous.

Victoria walks in behind her and Emma,
looking smug, and I’m guessing Vic helped get Charlie ready.
Charlie’s flaming red hair has been pulled into a tight, commanding
ponytail at the crown of her head that descends down her back in a
whipping braid. It draws attention to her height, which has been
added to by a pair of black leather, heeled boots that lace all the
way up the backs of her legs to her mid-thigh. Above that sits a
matching miniskirt and back-lacing corset. The corset has a dark
red, silk ribbon that’s been tied at the bottom with big loops and
long strands that trail against the back of her thighs.

I’m hyperventilating through my nose because
my jaw continues to twitch, locked tight as my lungs fight for air.
I’d been picking up on little clues from Charlie, here and there,
since she stormed into Brandon’s conference room like she owned it
to rain the fires of Hell down on his head. Seeing it all
confirmed, right in front of my eyes – having my fantasies brought
to life – takes my obsessions to a whole new, dangerous level.

She’s a Dominant. There’s no way anyone in
this club could ever misunderstand that and expect a woman like her
to submit. It’s obvious she’s nervous, but even through her debut
jitters, every single detail about her commands the room.

Fuck
. I think she might even give
Victoria a run for her money once she gets properly trained as a
Mistress.

If I still had any doubts about Kyle not
having a chance with her, seeing her in full domination leathers
obliterates them. Glancing at his shocked face, I snort. I can’t
help it. Despite the cut on my hand and my continued breathing
issues, seeing Kyle dumbstruck like that is the funniest shit I’ve
seen in a long time.

He needs a Submissive, and there is no way
in hell that’s Charlie. There’s also not even the slightest
possibility Kyle will
ever
submit to a woman, except maybe
Sarah, but I don’t see that happening, either. This, I admit, is a
favorable turn of events, even if just to see Kyle taken down a peg
or two. I’m no fool. I know I’m not worthy of Charlie, either.

The meet and greet is over and Charlie is
suddenly being ushered to the bar. I don’t have a café mocha to
offer her, but I can make her an iced coffee with some Bailys. As I
reach for a tall glass, I remember the cut on my hand and flounder
as my brain obsesses over the fact that I’ve dripped 7 splotches of
blood all over Brandon’s bar.

Yes, I count them all. Twice. Then I let one
last drop go so it’s even.

God, why am I so messed up?

“Twitch!” Charlie gasps, and the sound of my
club nickname on her lips gives me involuntary shivers. “What
happened to your hand?”

Yeah, no way I’ll be able to keep my voice
steady, so I just show my hand to her because she asked. She comes
around the bar, Emma and Brandon watching with obvious interest. I
shoot a glare at Brandon, because it’s all the anger I can muster
right now. He just gives me that cocky, goofy
‘I got you
good’
grin. Jerk.

Charlie tugs off my glove by the fingers,
but she doesn’t touch my skin. Instead, she puts a napkin in her
palm, cups the back of my hand with it and then bends down to
examine the cut. I inhale sharply at the gesture, looking back at
Brandon. This time, my eyes are full of questions.

Did they tell her? Does she know how
terribly fucked up I am? Brandon nods towards Emma who’s looking at
me with gentle understanding in her eyes.

“Well, it isn’t too deep,” Charlie sighs.
“Should be bandaged, though. Medkit?”

“In the storeroom,” Brandon offers then
takes Emma and abandons me with a,
‘you’re welcome’
mouthed
silently behind Charlie’s back. Oh, I am so going to enjoy
obsessing over ways to get him back for this.

“C’mon,” Charlie commands my attention again
and all thoughts about revenge on Brandon fade. “Show me the way so
we can get you cleaned up.”

“Yes, Miss Scarlet,” I swallow, thankful my
voice is at least somewhat steady as I lead her away from the bar.
Kyle slips in to take my spot, his blue eyes wide and disbelieving
as he gazes at Charlie. Charlie doesn’t even acknowledge his
presence. It’s like all she can see is me and my injured hand.

I guide her through a door, down a short
hall and into the storeroom. Thank God. The light is already on so
Charlie doesn’t have to stand there and watch me flick it on and
off like a nutjob.

You are a nutjob, Rider. Don’t forget
that.

I bite back an audible self-reproach and
search for the medkit. It isn’t where I put it last, and that irks
me. I find it sitting on a spare restraint bench, and that fills me
with unattainable desires.

The bench was pulled off the floor because
we haven’t gotten around to patching a small tear in the leather
back rest. Charlie follows me to the bench, her eyes full of
curiosity. I pick up the medkit, handing it to her, and she points
at the bench.

“Sit down and put your hand in my lap,” she
commands as she sits.

“Yes, Miss Scarlet,” I respond naturally,
before I can stop it. Sitting down, our knees angled and
centimeters from touching, I set the back of my shaking hand
against her skirt. My hand is cradled by her thighs, so close and
yet still so very out of reach.

Opening the large, red medkit, the first
thing she does it put on a pair of medical gloves. As the opaque
latex snaps tight, my eyes go wide and I choke.
She knows
.
God, she has to know. When she looks up into my eyes, I see the
truth of it.

“I’m just gonna clean the wound a bit and
then wrap it in a bandage,” her voice soothes my nerves, her eyes
never leaving mine as she talks. “I don’t think it’ll need
stitches, but you check on it tomorrow. If it still bleeds, you go
to a hospital, okay?”

“Yes, Miss Scarlet,” I nod once. I hate
hospitals, but there is no way I can argue against her request. Not
when she’s looking me square in the eyes and commanding my soul’s
full attention.

As she gently cleans the wound with
hydrogen-peroxide, all the disjointed wires in my brain finally
meet. She adds some gauze padding to my palm and wraps it in a
bandage while I come to terms with what I realized the very first
time I saw her. When she has my attention like this, everything
else is quiet.

I’m not counting. My mind isn’t worried
about my apartment door or that my toaster is still plugged in. I
may be staring at her red hair, but I’m not trying to see each
individual strand so I make sure she has an even number. I’m not
obsessing,
because Charlie is the one compulsion that
focuses my whole being.

Holy. Shit.

“You doin’ okay, Twitch?” her voice calmly
asks, her head still bent over my hand as she wraps the bandage
over and over.

I don’t know. Am I? I’m having a fucking
epiphany right now in a dimly lit storeroom, sitting next to a girl
who gives me something I’ve never had before.

Peace
.

Ian, er…
Twitch
, is deathly still and
it worries me a little. I’ve suspected for a while now that he has
Obsessive Compulsive Disorder, but I didn’t understand just how
severe it actually is until Brandon and Emma sat me down for a talk
over dinner last night. After I agreed to the debut, Emma had been
ecstatic but Brandon had wanted to know what had finally made up my
mind. I’d sat there, barely touching Austin’s kick-ass homemade
sopapillas, trying to figure it all out myself.

Sure, I wanted to make Emma happy and to
learn more about this new part of her. I wanted to feel more like
part of the group than the distant cousin. I was curious. All that
was true, but it wasn’t the reason that had kept nagging at me as I
drizzled honey over my sopapillas.

Brandon can smell bullshit a mile away. It’s
one of the reasons I respect him so much and trust him with Emma.
So, I’d eaten my sopapillas in silence, pushed all the easy,
acceptable answers aside, then I simply said the first word that
came to mind.

Ian.

That’s when I got the talk. Not just the
BDSM 101 talk, but a real, no holding back talk from Brandon about
just how bad Ian’s OCD is. It’s seriously bad. The only way this
man is functioning in the everyday world, as well as he is, is
through a volatile cocktail of medication and with emersion therapy
twice a week.

Once the talking was done, Brandon gave me
the opportunity to back out, no judgment given.

Instead of it making me want to run, it made
me want to try. I like to think Brandon knew I’d be like that. I
think he understands that side of me, because of our shared
relationship with Emma. Emma’s a special case too, and I have never
and will never run from her. Sure, I keep fucking up with her, but
it’s never been her fault.

Ian deserves that kind of chance. He
deserves for someone to at least
try
for him. He didn’t even
know me and yet he dried my tears and did what he could to provide
a complete stranger comfort. He gave Emma a chance, too. So, I’m
gonna give him one back and try not to screw it up.

“Twitch, are you alright?” I repeat
patiently, raising my gaze up from his bandaged hand to his eyes.
His strange hazel eyes captivate me, once again giving me the urge
to grab my watercolors.

“Yes, Miss Scarlet,” he whispers.

The soft bow of his lips as he forms the
words changes my urge from watercolors to pastels. Or maybe clay. I
haven’t touched clay in years. “Does it feel alright?”

He pulls his hand from mine and flexes it
against the gauze. “Yes, thank you.”

I pull off the latex gloves and wipe the
powder from my hands, a little unsure what to say next. I know what
I want to do, but I shouldn’t yet. I
should
go slow. Slow
isn’t exactly a speed I do very well.

I almost sit on my hands to keep them from
touching him. “Were you surprised? About my debut, I mean.”

“I was,” he nods. “I knew you were
interested in the possibility, for Emma, but I
am
surprised
I wasn’t informed. I typically handle the paperwork.”

He has that businessman tone, all straight
and narrow. It makes me want to tussle his hair. Instead, I simply
nod. “It was decided late last night. I guess I finally worked up
the courage to give it all a whirl.”