With His Protection (For His Pleasure, Book 15) (4 page)

“Who said I wanted an explanation?”

“Fine, maybe you don’t. But I spoke with Hunter and he told me that you’re in danger.”

Scarlett blinked. She was annoyed that Hunter had told Bryson her personal business, but she was also happy to know that people were thinking about her and caring, if even a little. “I’m fine,” she told him. “Tomorrow I’m going to figure out another place to stay, just in case Trevor knows where I live.”

“What if you don’t get to tomorrow?”

“I’m almost there now, and I’ll get there even faster if you’d leave me alone so I can get back to sleep.”

“You weren’t sleeping,” he said, offhandedly, as if he knew that with certainty.

He tried to peer inside.

Scarlett closed the door further. “You checked on me. I’m fine. So now you can go away.”

“You don’t want me to go.”

“Yes, I do,” she lied.

Why can’t I just let him in?

In response, she pictured the look on Eliza Johnston’s beautiful, cold face when she saw Scarlett at the apartment that morning. The memory of that humiliation renewed Scarlett’s sense of purpose. “You need to listen to me, Bryson. I told you to go away.

This isn’t any of your business—what I do is none of your business anymore.”

“Fine,” he said, and she could hear him backing away from the door as she slammed it shut.

It was over. He’d given up that easily. Disappointed that Bryson hadn’t tried harder, Scarlett moved to turn the bolt on the lock. But before she could, Bryson was turning the door handle and opening it from the outside.

“Hey!” she shouted, pushing against it, trying to close it once more. But she was no match for his strength, and a second later, he was inside, his chest heaving, eyes wild.

“Imagine if that had been Trevor,” Bryson said. “You’d be fucking dead right now.”

“I wouldn’t have been dumb enough to open the door for him, and I’m sorry I was stupid enough to open it for you.”

Bryson glanced down at the baseball bat in her left hand. “What’s that for? You think that’s going to stop this guy from hurting you?” He grabbed it instantly out of her hand and threw it to the floor as if it were nothing more threatening than a wet noodle.

“There. Now what would you do if it was him standing here instead of me?”

She glared at him, and hurt and anger boiled up inside of her. “How dare you come to my home and act like you suddenly care what happens to me? You self-righteous asshole.”

He glared back at her. “I forgot, Scarlett, you’ve got the market cornered on self-righteous indignation.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You got all high and mighty with me about Eliza without even knowing what happened, without even giving me a chance to explain myself.”

“I don’t care about your explanations,” she said, turning around, fists clenched at her sides. “I don’t want to hear your lies. I know what I saw.”

“You don’t know anything. You just know your own insecurities, your own past shit that you’re putting on me. And it isn’t true.”

Scarlett spun on him, pointing her index finger at him, jabbing it so closely that it almost poked his face. “You don’t know me. You don’t know what I’m thinking or doing. You’re just a self-centered jerk who took advantage of my trust. But I’m the idiot, Bryson. It’s my fault because I knew better than to trust you.” At the last second, she pushed her finger into his chest. It was like hitting an iron wall.

Her grabbed her wrist, firmly. His eyes bored into hers. “I’m sorry I hurt you.

But I didn’t do anything with Eliza—nothing happened between us and I don’t want anything to happen with her.”

“Take your hands off of me,” she said, trying to wrench away from his grip. At the same time, sensations of want and need were rising up inside of her. Being this close to him, smelling him, touching him, being touched by him. She couldn’t deny that he was like a drug that had complete power over her. And she also couldn’t deny that she wanted to believe him when he told her that nothing had happened between him and Eliza.

“I’m not going to let you go this time,” he said, drawing even closer. “It’s not safe for you to be here alone. You’re coming with me.”

“Absolutely not,” she replied, and grit her teeth. “Leave. Me. Alone.”

“Scarlett, I’ll throw you over my shoulder and carry you out of here if that’s what it takes.”

He was still holding her wrist, and she tried to yank free, but it was useless. His grip was like iron.

“It makes me sick that you think you have the right to say and do these things to me. Who do you think you are?”

“I’m the person who cares about you, who spent a wonderful night with you—“

“Before you went and met your beautiful leading lady and spent the rest of the night with her.”

“You
told
me to go and meet her.”

“I didn’t tell you to spend the night together.”

“Nothing. Happened.”

She wouldn’t look at him.

Suddenly, he was kissing her. His lips were on hers, and she was aroused, instantly every fiber was alive, her senses were alive, her body cried out as if she was a dying plant being given water for the first time in weeks. But she fought against her own need. She tried to push him away.

“Stop it, Bryson,” she said, moving her mouth away from his. “I don’t believe you, I don’t trust you anymore.”

“You know it’s true,” he told her. “You’re just scared to let yourself care about me.”

“Don’t blame me for your own behavior,” she said, her voice lowering. “You knew what you did was wrong, you knew it would hurt me. And you did it anyway.”

Bryson finally let go of her. He seemed unsure of himself for the first time, and somewhat distracted. His eyes searched the apartment, as if it contained answers that could solve this puzzle. “I didn’t do it thinking it would hurt you. She needed my help, she asked me to let her stay and I couldn’t say no—“

“You could have said no, but you chose not to. There’s a difference.”

“I can explain if you’d let me talk for more than ten seconds.”

She shook her head. “I don’t want to hear your excuses, Bryson.”

“Fine,” he said, “then you won’t get anymore excuses. No more talking.”

“Good,” she said. “Now you can leave my apartment.” She turned around as if to dismiss him, and started to walk away. Part of her was hoping he would follow her, cajole her, try to convince her of his feelings. The other part of her was hurt and angry and hoping he would go, but also afraid of the moment when she would hear the door slam shut and know he wasn’t coming back.

But the door didn’t slam. In fact, she heard his footsteps approaching, and then she was literally being picked up and thrown over his shoulder. The way he did it, she felt like a child throwing a tantrum, whose father has decided he’s had enough.

She was now completely off the ground, staring down at her hardwood floors.

“Bryson, what the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“I told you,” he said, matter-of-factly. “I’m carrying you out of here.”

“Put me down.”

“I’m afraid I can’t do that. You might value your pride over your life, but I don’t.

You’re coming with me.” And with that, he turned on his heel and started to walk out of the apartment with her on his shoulder.

“Hey!” she cried. “Stop!”

“We’re past the discussion portion of the evening.” He gripped her more tightly as she flailed and struggled. She hit his back with her fists and kicked.

“Wait,” she said, as he got outside and made for the stairs. “I need to lock up my apartment. And if we’re really going, I need to take some things with me. Please.”

“I don’t believe you. You might try and escape.”

“I’ll come. I’ll come. Just let me get some clothes and toiletries and my keys and stuff. Please, Bryson.”

“Promise you’re not going to make me chase you down? Because I’ll do it if I have to.”

“I promise.”

He bent down and allowed her to slip from his shoulder onto the floor. “I’m coming with you,” he told her.

She looked at him and shook her head. “You’re insane. I’m probably in more danger with you than I would be with Trevor.”

“I highly doubt that.”

She walked back into the apartment, and of course Bryson followed right behind her. She glanced over her shoulder at him, rolling her eyes. “I said I’ll come with you.

You don’t need to treat me like a prisoner.”

“I’m just making sure you don’t do something crazy like lock yourself in the bathroom.”

She shook her head.

Truthfully, she wanted to smile. As much as she was frustrated by him, and as much as he’d hurt her—she also still wanted to know that he cared about her. It was silly, misguided, and ultimately not very healthy, she decided. But that didn’t change the fact that she was incredibly attracted to Bryson Taylor, and that having him near her was like being intoxicated. Every part of her felt more alive and more real when he was near.

And the desire for his touch was almost more than she could take.

As she went into her bedroom with him, she couldn’t help but imagine how easy it would be to fall into bed with him and let him ravage her. With the wind pounding outside, and some spatters of rain beginning to hit the windows, she could picture his passionate kisses all over her body, the feel of his chest against hers, as he spread her legs and…

“What exactly we are doing in here?” he asked, breaking her from her paralysis.

She’d gotten so involved in the fantasy that she’d forgotten to keep moving. She snapped out of it, feigning annoyance. “Just let me think about what I need to bring.

You know I’m only staying one night.”

“Of course,” he said. “As long as you find somewhere else safe to go when you leave.”

Scarlett glared at him. “And who gets to decide what’s safe—me or you?”

He shrugged. “Let’s cross that bridge when we come to it.”

“Whatever.” She went to her dresser and began pulling out a few things to take with her. Her heart began to speed up as she grabbed her dark thong panties and lacy black bra, knowing that he was seeing them and perhaps picturing her wearing them and nothing else. She grabbed some other panties and bras as well, just in case.

Then she went to the closet and grabbed a small duffel bag, shoving her undergarments into it. From her closet, she also took a couple of pairs of jeans, a pair of sweatpants, and a couple of sweaters and shirts. Moving back to the dresser and then the closet a few more trips, she eventually stuffed the duffel bag completely full.

“All of that for one night?” he laughed.

“A girl likes to have choices,” she said.

She went to the bathroom to collect her toiletries.

“Keep the door open,” he said. “No locking yourself in.”

“Are you kidding me?”

“I can come in there with you if that works better.”

She decided not to turn this into a war, although she wanted to, truth be told. She imagined him breaking down the bathroom door and then, in his fury and passion, throwing her to the floor and taking her right there, fucking her into submission.

But she ultimately left the bathroom door open just a crack while she put her makeup, deodorant, and toothbrush, into a small plastic carrying case. When she emerged from the bathroom, she found Bryson sitting on her bed, smiling.

Her face flushed. “Get off of my bed.”

“Okay.” He got up. “Are you ready? The cab’s been waiting this whole time.”

“There’s a cab outside?” she said.

“Yeah. I didn’t want to try and hail another one on a night like this. But it’s going to cost me a small fortune.”

“I’ll pay the fare,” she said, as they left the apartment and she locked the door.

“Don’t be silly.”

“I said I’ll pay. This isn’t a date.”

“Fine, fine, have it you’re way.”

“As if you’d ever let me have anything my way,” she muttered.

***

The cab ride back was uneventful and quiet, as Scarlett stared out the window of the taxi at the passing scenery. New York was dark, quiet, and nearly deserted, which was rare. She attributed the strange lack of activity to the lateness of the hour, as well as the weather.

It wasn’t a full-blown storm yet, but there was the sense that something big was coming. The air felt heavy and foreboding, and the brisk winds that occasionally kicked up were like harbingers of what was to come.

The cab slowed to a halt and Bryson’s luxury apartment building and Scarlett started to dig into her purse for her wallet. Bryson was quicker, however. He leaned forward and stuffed a few bills through the slot. “Keep the change,” he said.

The driver glanced at the bills appreciatively. “Thanks a lot,” he squawked.

Scarlett’s jaw dropped. “Hey, you said you’d let me pay.”

He smirked at her. “And you thought I was serious?” He chuckled. “Come on, let’s get inside.”

“I should have known you’d lie about almost anything,” she replied, getting out.

Bryson’s smile disappeared. “I’m not a liar.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” she said, barely loud enough for him to hear.

“Don’t say things you’ll regret, Scarlett.”

She fell silent, confused by what Bryson was showing her.

In the end, she still wanted to send him the message that she was no longer his girlfriend or love interest or whatever had been going on between them. She would stay the night, grateful to not have to fear for her life. And then she would find someplace new, someplace equally safe, and far away from Bryson and his head games.

“You can use the guest bed if you want,” Bryson told her, as they walked into his apartment. She half-expected Eliza to come prancing into the room, smiling seductively, flaunting her superiority.

“The guest room sounds perfect, thanks,” she said. Was she disappointed that there was a guest room? Would she have rather been forced to sleep in his bed, him insisting that it was only fair? Her putting up a fight, but ultimately caving in, and then…

But it no longer mattered. She was in the spare room, which was hardly furnished. There was just a small twin bed, a nightstand and a bureau. Clearly, it hadn’t gotten a lot of use. As she stared at the room, it occurred to her that Eliza Johnston hadn’t actually slept in this bed. It was so obvious that nobody had used this room.