Bound Temptations: Stories of Temptation and Submission (13 page)

Third date. She could
definitely have sex with him on their third date, she thought. His
place? Hers? She didn't know, didn't care.

"Man. I gotta get out of
here," Clayton said, his voice brusque. "I can't stand to see you
standing there with that smile on your face...over a
lawyer."

As he left, Lacey shot Rocki
a look, and they both started to laugh.

"I'd like to see you
tonight."

Gripping the phone in one
hand, Rocki pressed her other hand to her belly. Slow it down …just
a little. But out loud, she simply replied, "Tomorrow will be here
before you know it. What happened to whatever urgent thing you had
come up tonight?"

"Fell apart." Cole sighed.
"Work stuff. Didn't happen."

"Ahhh." She finished
shutting down the computer and then stood up, began making a
circuit around the shop. It had been a slow day. Usually things got
slower after Valentine's Day, then picked back up again sometime in
March when people started getting a lot more serious about weddings
and stuff. She was used to it mostly, but slow days were still
tedious.

"‘Ahhh'...what does that
mean, exactly?"

"Just that." She smiled as
she paused by a table and straightened up the display there. Rocki
was honest enough with herself to admit that she was tempted to
tell Cole he could come over, but she was still a little
leery.

Two dates. And one wild
night of sex.

And she was restless. Edgy.
Plus, irritated as hell, still, from the discussion with Clayton
earlier. Not exactly ideal company, really. And damn it, if he
wanted to see her, couldn't he just ask?

Well, he sort of did, a
calm, rational voice pointed out. Rocki brushed it off. That hadn't
been asking. He'd just been mentioning it. He hadn't
asked.

"So, tomorrow, right? Six?"
She needed to get off the phone now before she started clueing him
in on her psycho mood swings.

"Six." He hesitated, almost
like he wanted to say something else. But then he sighed. "You have
a good night, Rocki. Think about me."

"Hmmm. I do that all too
often, handsome." Then she lowered the phone and disconnected,
staring off into nothing.

If she'd
wanted you to come over, she would have asked
, he thought. Cole figured he needed to turn around. Go back
home. Spend the night alone.

But he didn't.

He made a couple of stops.
The liquor store for a bottle of wine. A small boutique that was
open later than some, selling chocolate and flowers.

She hadn't had much of a
Valentine's Day, right? He could make up for that.

And see her.

He just wanted to see her.
No. Needed to.

And even if it was just for
a few minutes, it was better than nothing.

Rocki finished up in the
store twenty-five minutes later. Brooding and wishing she'd maybe
asked Cole to meet her, she locked up and started toward her
car.

It was cold, the bite of
winter still heavy in the air, despite the fact that it was almost
near the end of February. The corset she wore managed to keep her
warmer than one would think, and the camisole she wore under it
rose high enough to keep her chest from being too cold. She'd
always been terribly lazy with coats. She had one on now, but as
always, she hadn't bothered to button it and she was
cold.

As she hurried toward her
car, the low, thick heels of her motorcycle boots thudding heavily
on the ground, she muttered, "Spring. I want spring."

Warm sun.

Longer days.

Fewer shadows-

Suddenly, one of the shadows
shifted.

Rocki jerked her head up as
a man emerged from them. Her breath caught in her chest, lodged
there.

In the past ten years,
Dwayne Carpenter's solid body hadn't softened much. He'd played
football in college and a lot of that bulk was still
there.

He looked…older, though.
Older. Meaner. As he lifted a hand to stroke his jaw, she
suppressed a shiver, remembering just how much pain those big hands
had been capable of causing.

He had very cold, very cruel
eyes—she hadn't seen that back all those years ago. At least not
right away. But it was unmistakable now. She went still, staring at
him. With one hand in her pocket, she gripped her phone and
wondered if she could call 9-1-1 without him noticing.

"Hello, Roxanne." That
voice—fuck. Lower than it used to be, raspier. Harsher. That voice
was distinctive, and she knew she'd heard it before…and recently.
The night of the auction. Son of a bitch. It had been him there
that night, the other one bidding on her.

"Dwayne."

He took a step toward her.
Her first instinct was to step back, but she didn't. She held her
ground, watching him, as he closed the distance even more. "You
look as beautiful as ever."

She didn't respond. What was
the point?

"Nothing to say?"

"And why should I say
anything?" Rocki lifted a brow. "You want me to say thanks to the
man who tried to rape me eleven years ago?"

Somebody ugly and cold
flashed through his eyes. But he smiled.

"Perhaps you should be
saying ‘thank you' to the man who never stopped loving you. Never
stopped thinking about you. I saw you at the auction—you looked
lovely, but you shouldn't parade around like that. It's…not
acceptable."

Acceptable? She curled her
lip at him.

He was closer now and he
lifted a hand. But before he could touch her, Rocki used her left
arm to block him, putting enough force behind it that it sent a
jolt clear up her arm. "Don't touch me," she warned.

"Bitch." A snarl twisted his
face. "Don't you fucking know what I do when you piss me off? And
your cop's not around any more...yeah, I heard about that. He can't
protect you now."

Rocki smiled. "I don't need
a man protecting me, Dwayne." She shifted, set her feet, absently
saying a prayer of gratitude that she'd put on a different kind of
shoes today. Normally, she would have worn something with high
heels. But today, she'd pulled on a pair of Harley Davidson
boots-flat and heavy with solid, sturdy soles. She could move just
fine, without worrying about breaking an ankle.

Hate and possessiveness
burned in Dwayne's eyes. "Don't you? You hid behind him for years.
Fucking cunt. Can't do it now, though—I finally heard he got what
was coming to him, that fucker. Rotting in his grave and you can't
hide behind him."

"I didn't hide behind him. I
married him." Slipping a hand into her coat pocket, she said, "You
need to leave now. Just get the hell away and stay away. I've
already called the cops about the cards and the flowers. The
investigating officer is already looking for you."

"Is he?" Dwayne laughed.
"That's funny, because I'm not here tonight—I got a friend who will
swear I was working on a car with him."

Then he lunged for
her.

Rocki shifted her weight and
kicked. The fucking corset threw her balance off, but she managed,
driving the sidekick straight into his gut. As he stumbled
backward, she settled back onto her feet. "I'm not the helpless
girl you remember, jackass."

Cutting a wide berth around
him, she started toward her car. She was going to get inside, lock
the fucking door, and get away from here. Once she did that, she'd
call the cops.

Wine. Chocolate. Flowers.
All accounted for. Cole was going to swing by the shop first, make
sure she wasn't there. Part of him kind of hoped she was, and part
of him—the very perverted, very male part of him-was wondering if
he could talk her into modeling a few pieces she had in her
store...for him. It was a fantasy he'd been living with all damn
week.

Although he realized that
might be sort of rushing things.

He couldn't stop thinking
about her, though.

All the time—she was in his
head, all the time. Could you fall in love that fast? Was it
healthy to even think he could have fallen in love that
fast?

He was just a couple of
weeks out of a break-up, and although it hadn't been a bad one on
his part, he realized he should maybe take things slower with
Rocki.

Be patient.

Make sure he wasn't just
reacting to Rocki because of some latent issues with
Mara-

His phone rang.

And the ringtone had him
swearing.

Speak of the devil...or the
Wicked Witch of High Street.

He almost ignored it. But he
figured he might as well see what she wanted so he wasn't ignoring
phone calls every ten minutes for the rest of the night. Parking in
front of Rocki's store, he answered the phone.

Dwayne was still damn fast,
a fact that Rocki figured out only seconds before she would have
been in her car. She saw him coming and darted away, refusing to be
caught between him and any object, even if it was her
car.

"You need to leave me
alone," she warned him, her voice shaking.

He needed to leave her
alone, and he needed to do it now because damn it,that look in his
eyes was terrifying.

Damned
terrifying.

"Do I?" He sneered and made
another grab for her. This time, thick, strong fingers caught the
sleeve of her coat.

With a desperate jerk, she
tore away from him, stumbling a little before she caught her
balance. "Stop it, Dwayne. You think you're not going to get
caught, you fucking idiot? You'll be the first person they look
at."

He only laughed. This time,
when he came after her, he moved too fast. She hit him—something in
her hand snapped—she felt it, the hot, vicious pain so bright and
hot. Blood fountained from his nose and spilled all over her as he
took her down.

The air exploded out of her
lungs and seconds later, she was struggling to breathe at all as he
shoved his forearm against her throat, using his other hand to tear
at the busk of her corset. "Bitch. My fucking bitch and you won't
forget it this time."

Black dots swirled in front
of her. Pain, ugly and clawing, tore through her. Couldn't black
out—couldn't. Her right hand was useless. But she'd be damned if
she would let this happen to her again. A sweet gust of air rushed
into her lungs as he lifted his weight just a little, still
struggling to loosen the corset-

The absurd, foolishness of
those actions might have made her laugh hysterically if she could
have spared the breath. There was no way he'd get her out of it
that easily. But between his weight crushing her, and the corset
itself, she couldn't laugh at the futility of it—he might as well
have been trying to tie his shoes using his teeth.

It cleared her brain just a
bit, though. Enough for her to flex her left hand, still laying
curled and free on the ground beside her. He thought she wouldn't
fight. Bastard. Brushing her hand along the ground, she searched
for something—anything. When her hand touched something round, cold
and smooth, she gripped it. A bottle—all the bottles that littered
the back parking lot. They usually pissed her off.

Just then, she could have
kissed the litterbug.

Curling her hand around it,
she lifted it. "Dwayne..."

Chapter Nine

The sound of a scream froze
his blood.

Forgetting about Mara's
whining demand for answers, forgetting about everything, Cole took
off running up the narrow alley that ran between Rocki's store and
the building next door. As he ran, he called 9-1-1.

He tore into the back
parking lot just in time to see her bringing something down on a
man's head.

She was pinned beneath
him—pale, struggling.

Cole exploded.

With a roar, he dove for the
other man, taking him down.

The next few seconds passed
in a blur, yet some parts were insanely clear. He could remember
shoving the bastard to the pavement, could remember driving his
fist into his face, once. Twice.

Then he remembered, clear as
day, a hand on his arm.

Rocki.

Then there were
sirens.

"You're wasting you're
fucking time," Dwayne said, his voice thick and nasally, distorted
by his broken nose and a swollen lip.

Between the head injury
Rocki had dealt him with the broken bottle and the damage Cole had
done, the man was not in good shape. But he was still belligerent
and full of attitude as he fought against the cop who was slapping
him into cuffs.

"Stupid bitch won't do a
damn thing," he said, smirking at her. "Not a damn
thing."

Rocki stared at him. "That's
where you're wrong."