Raw (12 page)

Wow. What a crazy-assed morning.

What the fuck was up with that visit from Twitch? And more importantly, why did I give in to him so quickly?

Simple. You wanted his dirty mouth on you. More accurately, you wanted his filthy mouth to do nasty things to your body.
 

Although I won’t deny my brain’s completely wrong observation, I most definitely won’t agree with it. Not now, not ever. Because Twitch is a weirdo who watches me. And for me to have intense feelings for a man who does that sort of thing…well…what would that say about me?

Allowing myself some quiet time to think does me no good. In fact, it makes me more and more angry at what transpired here not an hour ago.

Who does this man think he is? A freaking god? So what if he looks like a demi-god? He’s not the boss of me.

I have a mind to tell him just that.

And that’s exactly what I plan to do.

Sitting in my car next to the parking lot by Falcon Plastics, I look ahead into nothingness and bounce my leg rapidly in anxiousness.

I should’ve never come here.

A normal person would’ve gotten pissed, eaten an entire tub of ice cream when they arrived home from work, then gone to bed thinking of all the great comebacks that could’ve and should’ve been said at the time of the confrontation.

Steps one and three have already taken place, and I’m sure step two isn’t far behind either, but I’m sure a normal person would
not
have gone to the workplace of a potentially dangerous man to fight it out with him.
 

But me? I’m just special that way, I guess.

Chewing my gum almost as rapidly as my leg bounces, I almost shit my pants and shriek to high heaven when a loud knock comes from the outside of the car window.

Placing a hand on my heaving chest, eyes wide in fright, I turn to see familiar black eyes staring back at me. And those eyes...they’re smiling.

Opening my car door, Happy mutters an amused, “Boss is wondering when you’re gonna leave your car and get your ass inside.”

My cheeks flush pink. I snap back, “Maybe I wasn’t even here to see him.”

He grins, “You’ve been sitting in your car in an industrial area looking like an on-edge crack junkie wanting her next fix for about half hour. So either you’re here for drugs, or…”

He leaves his statement hanging, and right then, I hate him. Just a little. Feeling humiliated at being watched all this time, I roll my eyes, “Okay, so maybe I was wondering if what I was doing would be considered unprofessional.”

Happy’s face becomes serious as he states, “It is unprofessional.”

Unsure whether he’s serious or just very good at sarcasm, I swallow hard and open my mouth to defend my actions when he adds on yet another grin, “But Twitch started it.” The knot in my stomach loosens a little at his casual demeanour. Pulling the car door all the way out for me to exit, I take my handbag and watch in stunned disbelief as Happy reaches into my car, takes the keys out of the ignition, closes the door, and locks it.

Smiling, he extends an elbow to me, and after looking between him and my car for a solid minute, I take what is offered by placing my hand into the crook of his elbow. Happy leads me through the parking lot and into the office. I chance a look around. It looks like any other office. A neutral off-white colors the walls, as well as just about everything else in the office. Cubicles, desks, appliances, even the staff all seem to be keeping up with the neutral color theme. What I notice more than anything else, however, is the staff.

They are happy.

Smiles, laughter, and conversation swirl around us as Happy leads me towards to an elevator. Up to the second floor we go, and all the way down the long hall. As soon as we reach his office, I know it’s his. Of course, the pompous shadow of a man would make
his
things different to everything else in the building.

The door in front of me was designed to intimidate. And right now, it’s doing a pretty good job.

Thick, mahogany double doors hand-carved in a gothic theme brings shivers up my spine. Each door has an intricately carved weeping willow, which is blowing in the wind. Thin, leaved branches flow in all directions. Both willows are made to look the same, yet completely different in pattern and wind direction. It all looks so fluid. The person who made these doors is clearly talented. And I have no doubt that Twitch paid a huge amount for them.

Suddenly, I realize what I’m about to do is a big mistake. Turning to Happy, his eyes meet mine and his brow furrows. I whisper-hiss, “I’ve changed my mind. I’d like to leave now.”

Pulling at his elbow, he stands firm while watching me closely for a full ten seconds before he lifts his hand and raps his knuckles on the door.
 

Oh,
what
? I can’t believe he just did that!
 

Eyes wide, I look to him with a glare that would read
have you lost your damn mind?
His lazy stare says
I don’t know what you’re talking about.

Closing my eyes tightly, I pray to a god I don’t believe in to give me strength, when I hear the most sexually arousing voice I have ever heard in my entire life call out, “Enter.”

My nipples tighten, so taut they actually hurt. I have this voice committed to memory. There are just some things in life that are worth remembering. This voice is one of those things.

Putting on my best poker face, I lift my nose in the air and look as if I’ve just sniffed something nasty. Happy chuckles by my side, and I want to kick him in the shin. Happy opens the door and guides me through it. My poker face falters slightly when I see a very petite, very gorgeous Asian woman perched at the end of Twitches penis-extension of a desk.
 

Okay, so the desk is also mahogany and huge, but calling it a penis-extension is rude. As well as false. I’ve seen the weapon he’s packing. The guy doesn’t need any sort of compensation.

Miss Asia looks up at Happy and me and doesn’t bother to hide her glower, which incidentally, is aimed at me. This pisses me off. With a swoosh of her perfectly straight, shoulder-length black hair, she moves to stand behind Twitch, and places a hand on his shoulder.

A claim, if you will.

Fuck a duck! The asshole has a girlfriend. Great! Just great. Which makes me
that
woman. The
other
woman.

Happy gently takes my hand from his elbow and pats it before lowering it to my side. Twitch, who hasn’t lifted his head from his paperwork, drawls into his reading material, “You following me?”

And my current emotional status of
pissed
upgrades to
slightly fuming
.

The words slip out of my mouth as if they’re buttered. “You follow me. I thought it was our
thing
.”

Miss Asia’s glower turns into a death glare, and I fight the urge to flip her off as her lip curls. Twitch’s lips curve at the corners; he lifts his head to watch me through those hooded eyes that I can’t stop thinking about and places the end of his pen in his mouth, chewing gently.

I wish that pen was my lip.

His scrutinizing gaze is enough to make me squirm, but I fight it with every last bit of willpower left in my body. Then, suddenly he announces, “Everyone out.”

Shit. This was a bad idea. This is actually happening. We’re going to hash it out.

Happy doesn’t waste any time questioning Twitch. He turns and leaves. Miss Asia, however, decides now is as good a time as any to have a stare off with me. Her brown almond-shaped eyes laser beam into mine. My gaze never waivers. I was a street kid for some time. I know intimidation tactics. They don’t do much to me coming from another woman. Coming from Twitch though…

My thoughts are cut short when Twitch stands slowly and turns to his girl. Not looking impressed, he growls, “Ling.” Her eyes hold mine only a second longer before she looks up at him. Her perfect red-stained lips match her perfect…everything.
 

I dislike this woman very muchly.

Twitch looks down at her in warning and her hard stare falters. “You hear me, bitch, or we need to get your ears tested?”

And just like that, I feel sorry for her. That’s no way to talk to your girl.
 

That’s no way to talk to
any
girl.

I fix my own glare at Twitch when Ling passes me much too closely. Her shoulder nudges mine, and although it doesn’t hurt, it annoys the shit out of me. Oh, and that sorry feeling I had? Gone.

Yeah. Walk away Skanks McGee.

The door closes harder than it should, and Twitch rounds his desk to sit on the front of it. “What are you doing here?”

Changing the subject, I state, “I don’t think your girlfriend likes me.” Putting on the most bored face I can muster, I add deadpan, “I’m torn up.”
 

Shaking his head at me, he mutters, “Yeah, I can see that.”

Question avoidance. Level: expert.

An awkward silence follows. A
long
awkward silence. And not making it the slightest bit easier on me, Twitch watches me from under his long lashes, his face devoid of expression.

The guy has had his dick in me. He has put his belt around my neck. I let him put his thumb in my virgin ass. He’s brought me to orgasm. More than once. And I don’t know a thing about him. Everything I thought I knew about him is wrong, or completely misunderstood.
 

Sighing deeply, he asks curtly, “You come to stare at me all day, or you gonna lay it out?” My face bunches at his blunt and rude demeanour. Eyes hardening, he all but barks, “Speak.”

And with that, I blurt out, “I don’t like what you’re doing to me.”

Crossing his long legs in front of him, he says completely uninterested, “No. You don’t like what you
let
me do to you.”

I ponder this. And when I realize he may possibly (definitely) be right, I ask weakly, “Why won’t you tell me your name?”

His response is a bored stare in my direction. Reaching into his pocket, he pulls out a pack of colorful chocolate buttons, pours a handful into his palm, and shoves the lot into his mouth. Chewing slowly, I watch his throat work as he swallows bit-by-bit of the melted sticky sweetness, and I press my thighs together, trying in vain to deny the fact that this man has a hold on me.

Finding courage from somewhere deep in my gut, I take a step forward and state with false bravado, “I don’t know who you are, but I’m going to find out…
Twitch
.”

His gorgeous face contorts in anger, eyes flashing. He stands abruptly and walks behind his desk to sit in the throne he calls a chair. Losing some steam, he picks up a document and skims over it. “Don’t go digging, Alexa. You’re bound to find a few bones.” I don’t know what to say to that, but my stomach clenches tightly. Still reading, he adds, “Keep this up and you’re going to get hurt.”

My spine stiffens. “Is that a threat?”

Lifting his head, his soft brown eyes harden. “It’s a fucking promise.”

My heart pounds in my chest. I need to get out of here. This was a very bad idea.

Swallowing hard, I breathe heavily and take a step back, retreating while I still have some pride left. Halfway to the door, he asks, “Do you have any plans this weekend?”

Stopping in my tracks, I shake my head. Pulling open a desk drawer, he pulls out a golden envelope, removes the card from the inside, and scribbles something onto it. Holding the card in his outstretched hand for me to take, I resist only a moment before curiosity gets the better of me. Once at his desk, I take the card and read in silence.

A masque. Charity function. Saturday night. Costume ball.

I know two people who would love this. Feeling uncomfortable, I ask quietly, “Can I bring someone?”

Twitch’s lip curls. “No date.”

Hmmm. Interesting. We’ll think on that later.

Shaking my head, I start, “No, my two best friends would—” But I’m cut off when leans across the desk, snatches the card from my hand, and scribbles another something on the front. Turning the card over, he pens something on the back and hands the card back to me.

Lowering his head to his paperwork, he dismisses me with, “Til Saturday, Alexa.”

Too stunned to even tell him goodbye, I walk out of his office, close the door behind me, and look down at the card in my hand.

Alexa Ballentine and guests.

A small smile graces my lips.

I have phone calls to make.