Promiscuous (13 page)

"Are we done here?"

"Sure."

I saw the look they exchanged, and stalked off to the changing room.

***

I walked out from the dressing room, relieved that both of them had gone. Seeing Ivan every fucking day was too much; I couldn’t cope anymore. The way he looked at me with that smug little smile made me furious. I so badly wanted to walk over to him and punch him in the balls, just to wipe that expression off his disgusting little face. Everything about him made me sick.

Shit. My jacket.
I raced back into the dressing room to retrieve it. Pulling it on, my mind was still in overdrive. A noise directly behind me scared the hell out of me. I spun around and came face-to-face with Ivan.

“What the fuck was that scene out there, Bethy?” he snarled, obviously angry about my little outburst.

“I don’t know what you mean. I was just suggesting—”

“Well, don’t.” He took a step toward me, his eyes traveling over my breasts.

I shivered, both scared and nervous at his close proximity to me. I leveled my eyes at him, my expression cool.
I refuse to let him see how terrified I am of him.

"Can you at least try to be professional when you're at work, honey?"

I turned around, my eyes wide as Ivan confronted me in the changing room. Immediately, my eyes darted around the room, looking for an escape. My hands curled into balls as they hung beside me, ready to react if I needed them to.

"What do you want? You shouldn't be in here." What if I'd been changing? I shuddered at the thought of him seeing any more of my body than he already had.

"That's the thing, darling: I can go anywhere I want. I thought you would've learned that by now." His eyes laughed at me as I stood there, struggling to stay in control.

I glared at him, my expression stony. Inside was a crying mess. "Just leave it, Ivan. Just leave me alone," I muttered, swallowing hard.
Is Sam still here?
I’d thought Ivan had gone, and he hadn’t. What were the chances? Would he hear me if I screamed?

"I won’t fucking leave you alone. You do as I say, you hear me? If I ask you to get down on your knees and fucking beg, then that's what you do. Understand?"

I blinked back tears. I wasn't sure how much longer I could hold off the flood of emotion that was waiting to pour out of me, but I damn sure wasn't going to cry in front of him.

"Whatever," I muttered. "I just thought—"

“Well, don’t. You not here to think—thank fucking Christ for that. We’d all be in the shit if we were dependent on your little mind.” He laughed, as if his joke was actually funny.

I scowled at him, my body shaking as I fought hard not to react. Because that's what he wanted. He wanted to see that he was getting to me.

His demeanor changed, and he smiled. “Bethy, you need to relax. Maybe you need to have a little more fun? I’d be happy to help you out with that. It worked so well the last time, you know,” he said, his hand reaching for a loose strand of hair that had fallen across my face.

I ducked back, my heart racing. I wanted to scream.

He wasn’t going to touch me
ever
again.

Picking up my bag, I pushed past him, hurling him into the bench near the lockers. I raced for the door, not checking behind me to see if he was following. I just needed to get out of there.

Walk. Just keep walking. Walk until he can't get to you anymore. Do not let him get to you.

It was easier said than done; Ivan got to me on a daily basis. As I pushed my way through the door and outside, his voice echoed through the studio.

“Don’t forget, honey, I know where you live. Maybe I’ll drop by and say hello.”

That sick fuck. Was that an empty threat, or was he really planning on coming after me again? I didn't want to find out.

***

By the time I arrived home, the panic had subsided, but I wasn't ready to be alone. I weighed up my options: I could either call Roman, or I could call Roman. I turned my bag inside out looking for my phone, finally locating it at the very bottom. I scrolled through my contacts until his name showed up. Hitting call, I waited for him to answer. Or not answer. Panic rose inside me. What if he didn't answer? I couldn't stay there alone, not right then. If I did, I'd lose my mind.

"Hello?"

"Roman," I blurted out. I hadn't been ready for him to answer, and now I had no idea what the hell to say.

"Beth." He sounded genuinely pleased to hear from me.

I relaxed, actually managing to breathe.

"How are you? Is everything okay?"

"Everything's fine," I said, a little too quickly. "I was just wondering if maybe you wanted to meet for coffee?"

"A coffee?" he repeated.

"Yes. Coffee. It's what sometimes people have over a discussion to get to know each other better."

"You want to get to know me?"

"Roman, either you want to or you don't."

"Okay, I'm sorry. I'd love to meet you for coffee. Or better yet, how about I treat you to a hot chocolate that is so good it will make you orgasm?"

I laughed. "How can I say no to that?"

Chapter Fifteen

Beth

“Glad you could make it.”

I turned around and smiled. Roman approached me, a sexy smile working across his lips as he looked me over. I lowered my eyes, loving the way I felt when I was around him.

“How could I pass up the promise of a hot chocolate that will make me orgasm?” I teased. I felt myself relax. See, I could do this. It was just talking. Just two friends meeting for a drink.

“Hey, I make no guarantees, but should this fail, I am prepared to honor the promise myself.” He chuckled as my face went red. Was that a joke? I didn’t want to ask, afraid of what the response would be.

“I’m not embarrassing you, am I?” He smirked.

“No,” I said smugly. “I’m just embarrassed on your behalf at that poor pickup line.”

He laughed loudly. “Well thank you, but I don’t need your pity. Besides, I thought that line was pretty smooth,” he returned, as the waitress walked over to our table.

***

I dug my spoon down to the bottom of the mug, scooping up a mountain of creamy goodness. Okay, I had to admit: this was damn good. I could quite easily become addicted. I looked up at Roman, who was staring at me. His mouth twitched, like he wanted to say something.

“What?”

“Nothing. You just have a little . . .” He reached over to my chin, catching a rogue drop of cream. His eyes gleamed as he lifted his thumb to my mouth. “You may as well finish it.” I giggled and parted my mouth. He slipped his thumb inside, his insanely dark eyes narrowing in on me as I sucked it gently.

Placing his arm back down in his lap, he shook his head and laughed. “You better watch yourself, Ms. Masters. You don’t want to wind me up.”

“I don’t?” I teased. I liked this. I was relaxed and playful. Slowly, I was coming out of my shell. Now if only I could be consistent. I was running more hot-and-cold these days than Katy freaking Perry.

It hit me that I still knew very little about him.

“So, who are you, Roman?”

“Who am I?” He leaned back in the booth and cocked his head to the side. “I’m just a guy, Beth. There’s nothing special about me. I don’t know what to tell you.” He let out a laugh.
Was it just me, or did that question make him go all weird?

“I’d say there is plenty special about you. But I want to know who you are. What makes you tick. Are you close with your family? I feel like everything has been about me. I want to hear about you.”

“Okay.” He nodded. “You present an impressive argument. My parents are dead. I have a brother I never see, and I’m not much for friendships.” He held my gaze. I felt like I was being dragged into his soul. “But for pretty little pop stars, I like to make an exception,” he added softly.

He thought I was pretty? I wondered if he could hear the pounding in my chest.
God, I hope I’m not smiling like an idiot right now.

“So we’re friends now?”

“We’re something,” he finally replied. Something. I liked something more than I liked friendship. Something suggested hope, and I needed that right now.

“I’m sorry about your parents,” I offered.

He shrugged. “It’s okay. I’ve dealt with it and moved on.” The tone of his voice had changed, and I got the feeling that the subject of his family was closed for discussion. As curious as I was, I didn’t want to press him.

“Still, I don’t know much about you. You come across as very mysterious.” I narrowed my eyes and pointed my spoon at him accusingly.

He laughed and nodded. “I guess you’re right. So ask me something else then. Anything.” He stirred his coffee while he waited patiently for me to speak.

“Your strongest memory from age ten.”

“What?” he laughed, amused by the randomness of my question.

“Go,” I ordered, waving my hand at him.

“Give me a minute,” he chuckled, shaking his head. “Okay. Breaking the neighbors’ window with my spud gun. And possibly breaking a ten-thousand-dollar vase in the process.”

“What?” I giggled, covering my mouth. “What the hell is a spud gun?”

His eyes widened. He pointed to my cup. “Drink up,” he ordered.

“What, why?”

“Don’t argue, just hurry up.”

I did as he said. It was hard work downing a cup of chocolate and cream without getting it all over my face. He shook his head and handed me his napkin. I took it and wiped my mouth, disappointed he didn’t offer me his thumb again.

“Let’s go.” He stood up and threw a twenty on the table. Grabbing my hand, he all but dragged me out of the restaurant.

“Where are we going?” I laughed, getting into the car.

“Well, first stop is the hardware store, and then the grocer’s.”

What the hell?

The hardware store was a few blocks down from the restaurant. We pulled into the parking lot. Roman pointed across the road. “You go over there and buy a sack of potatoes and a can of deodorant.”

“Are you saying I smell?” I joked.

He rolled his eyes and shook his head. “You smell beautiful. Now go.”

All right
. I walked across the road while he went into the hardware store. Picking out a few nice potatoes, I bagged them and then went hunting for some deodorant, grabbing the first can I saw.

I met Roman back at the car. Holding up my purchases, I grinned.

“Good work. Okay, now let’s go.” We got in the car and took off. I still had no idea where we were going, though I was smart enough to have figured out what we’d be doing.

***

We pulled up at a clearing beside Mason’s point, just around the corner from my house. I waited while Roman gathered our things, laying them out on the hood of the car.

The lake was so peaceful—not so much as a ripple across the smooth surface. It almost looked like a layer of glass. Tall, jagged rocks surrounded the clearing, making it not the safest spot to swim. Not that that stopped the thrill-seekers who liked to climb to the top of the point and dive into the water.

“Beth.” I turned to see Roman gesturing to me. “This is a potato cannon.” He sounded so proud as he held up what looked like a few bits of pipe glued together.

“Wow, looks great,” I offered brightly.

He narrowed his eyes at me. “Don’t patronize me, Ms. Masters,” he warned, reaching for a potato. “It’s not impressive yet, but watch this.” He loaded the potato down the end of the pipe and aimed it out over the lake.

I jumped as it fired, sending a flaming potato flying through the air. Holy shit! That had to have gone two hundred yards.

“Oh, I’m so giving that a try,” I said, practically jumping up and down.

He laughed and handed it to me. I aimed the pipe into the air and pressed the release, just like he’d done. I squealed as the potato fired out of the pipe in a ball of flames, dropping the cannon onto the sand. Roman doubled over with laughter, only stopping when I scowled at him.

Still chuckling, he leaned down to retrieve it.  “So, you now know a hundred percent more about me than you did an hour ago,” he announced with a cheeky grin.

“Right, but a hundred percent of nothing still isn’t that much,” I pointed out.

“True.” He thought for a moment. “Okay, how about this? See that island out there?" He pointed to a narrow sand bunker about two hundred and fifty yards from the shore. "We each have a shot. If you get it over the island, then you can ask me a question. But if you don't you need to answer one."

"And if I don't want to answer the question?" I asked nervously. I could just imagine what he'd ask me: things I didn't want to answer—things I wasn't ready to answer.

He smiled mischievously. "That's where the fun begins. If you don't want to answer, no problems. You just have to complete a dare."

"A dare?" I repeated, laughing. I couldn't remember the last time I’d played a game of Truth or Dare. Okay. “You're on." He handed the spud gun back to me. Trying not to show my nerves, I aimed it carefully and fired. I watched as a potato bounded through the air. "Come on, come on. Yes!" I threw my arms up and started cheering, dancing circles around him.

He shook his head and laughed. "Nice shot."

"I bet you thought you were pretty safe, huh?" I grinned.

"No. I was pretty sure you could handle your way around a piece of pipe this long."

I glowered at him and he laughed harder.

"So, ask your question," he managed to say.

“Okay,” I began. “How do you know Scarlett? And why did you want to watch us?” I asked him, blushing.

He grinned, pulling his eyebrows together. Maybe he hadn’t been expecting that. “What man wouldn’t want to watch two women? Scarlett is an old friend.”

“An old friend?” I said suspiciously. “She looks younger than me.”

He laughed, but didn’t respond.

“What else do you want with me? I mean, why are you here?”

“Honestly, Beth? There are so many things I want to do with you and
to
you and watch have done to you, but I’m hesitant about scaring you off.”

Watch done to me? What did that mean? The mere thought stirred an aching between my legs.