“He knows how to fuck me like a machine and give me more orgasms than I thought humanly possible, but he’s not the emotional attachment type,” she groaned, covering her eyes in angst.
“That was far too picturesque for my liking, babe.”
“He’s so good with his hands, his cock, and, god, his mouth…” She practically drooled all over, but I felt like cringing. Conor was the equivalent to a brother to me. Ugh.
“Error, too much info. Beep, beep, hard pass. No. More. Conor. Talk,” I sounded out in a robotic tone, moving my arms in a machinelike manner.
She smacked my tit. Her mouth was set in a large frown, her eyes all puppy-like.
“I’m never going to be able to nurse a child with your abuse!” I teased her, smacking her back.
“I just want him more than I want my next bestseller list!” she cried out, her voice nasally, and she pouted some more.
“Then play the dating game, babe. Show him what he’s missing out on,” I suggested, shrugging. “That’s all you can do. You can’t make someone love you.”
I nearly choked on sudden tears. I had wanted Carl to love me so much that I'd pretended that we had that the entire time.
The waitress arrived with our drinks, and Stace shot hers back immediately while I sipped at mine.
“Slow down, Stace. Jesus.” my tone of warning sounded a lot ruder than I intended.
“Yes, Mom.” She dragged out the mom part, rolling her hazel eyes at me.
The next thirty minutes went by swiftly, and everyone prepared for the timers to start. I didn’t pass a glance at any of the men, my mind still stuck on the handsome tattoo-riddled Coen. Thinking of him brought back the necklace he gave me. Touching it with my fingers, I traced the design.
“We are so glad for you all to make it out tonight,” the hostess blurted out excitedly, her voice high-pitched and unwelcome to my ears. “Have you all read over the rules?” she asked.
Everyone bobbed their heads in unison, looking like a bunch of pigeons bobbling off. I held back my giggle, unable to contain the stupidity of it all.
The first man seated himself across from me. “I’m Rich.” His honey-like voice dripped over me. I couldn’t tell if it was pleasant or straight up creepy but went with it anyway.
“Rebel.”
“That’s an interesting name.” He smiled, but something about it turned me off. More than likely, it was because Coen’s smile was unbeatable. “What do you do for a living?”
“I’m an author,” I proclaimed, pride flooding me.
“That’s amazing.” He spoke enthusiastically.
“You?” I questioned.
“I’m an engineer,” he stated, appearing bored.
Our conversation continued at its boring pace until that amazing dinging bell sounded out. I swore my heart smiled! Finally, the snooze-fest came to an end!
I sat, waiting for the exchange for people, uninterested and annoyed. Cara had lucked out. She’d get more writing material, but I was dying from the lackadaisical methods I used to assist her.
“Hello.” A husky and warm tone tickled my senses. A soft bourbon and cedar scent wafted through my nostrils. Something about the voice seemed familiar, and my fear of who it could be forced me to avoid eye contact.
“Red, look at me,” the saccharine voice cooed.
No. I refused to be a pawn in his fucked-up game.
Did I not mention before that I had a stalker?
He smelled nice. His rough accent rolled off his tongue sweetly, but he had threatened my very life online. His dirty pics, voice messages, and provocative videos caused distress to overwhelm my insides. How did he find me?
I’d used a pen name for this specific reason. How did he know where to look? My heart hammered in my chest, the rapid beat forming sweat at my brow and a soft but constant beating in my ears. I felt outside of my body like a phantom watching from the sidelines. Intense anxiety devoured me.
My gaze locked with his. I’d never seen him in real life, only the online world. His face was square and masculine, his trim and stubble giving him a strong and warm appearance, and if my fear didn’t consume my every thought, I’d thought his eyes were a beautiful olive tenor.
“You haven’t answered my messages.” Jacob licked his lips, watching me as if I were his next meal.
“I—I,” I stammered, unsure of what to do.
The buzzer sat only inches away. If I slipped my hand over it, he’d be gone in a heartbeat. My hesitation had to do with his criminal record. I didn’t fancy dying any time soon.
“Were you not expecting a handsome fellow to show up?” He smirked, tilting the corners of his mouth.
“What are you doing here?” I whispered, tremors wracking my body.
“We are meant to be, Red. Haven’t you noticed our connection?” His growl sent shivers straight to my spine.
I refused to acknowledge his kind of crazy, so, no, I never noted this so-called “connection.”
“I don’t even know you.” My voice shook, and tears threatened to spill over.
“You’ve seen every part of me, my soul, my body, and my inner demons. We’re made for each other.” His harsh tone only grew darker.
My hand went for the buzzer faster than on those million dollar winning TV shows. It went off like a police siren, blasting our ears and vibrating the sound system. The hostess and three guards were on Jacob in less than five seconds.
I sought out Stace. Her eyes widened, full of surprise. She mouthed, “Jacob?”
I nodded, eyes probably stricken with the nerves I was currently experienced.
“I love you!” Jacob screamed at me while they removed him from the premises.
“Get me the fuck out of here,” I begged Stace, tears finally making their descent. I almost forgot about him, he’d been quiet for so long. Now I knew why.
17
Bad Ideas
Dating a BMX rider rule #562: Be prepared for lots of hospital visits. This is a normal Tuesday.
Coen
Six days in, and I landed in the hospital.
You’d think I’d learn to trust my gut. I’m obviously a dumbass. I felt as if Rob planned something. When Rebel texted me after receiving her gift, I wanted to fly home to be at her speed dating thing and make a big show. My agent said it would be against my contract to do so even though it was my day off.
That night, Rebel told me about her stalker. She had a fucking stalker and never once mentioned it. Jacob Reed had followed Rebel for years. He went to every book signing, and her restraining order never worked in her favor. Apparently, he had discovered her real name and not her pseudonym, which ended with him being at the speed dating event. I only wished I could have been there to protect her.
She had called me, crying. The terror in her voice broke something in me. She sounded drained and weak as if she didn’t want to leave her house ever again.
I attempted my escape, and I failed. Robert had people watching me at every corner. That should have been a warning sign. Yet, here I lay in bed in a fucking hospital, my knee fucked beyond repair.
I called Rebel three times today, but she hadn’t even returned with a text. Reluctantly, I dial Stacy’s number.