Erased (19 page)

“YOU’RE BOYFRIEND’S HERE,” Delia teases and nods over to a table.

My eyes scan the bar and meet the dark-blue ones of Jack. When he flashes me a grin, I smile nervously back at him. Slade is paying invoices in his office, and they had an unfriendly encounter last night at church. The last thing I want is to see that look of hate in Slade’s eyes again.

“Shit,” I mutter under my breath.

I’d ask her to get it, but she’s taking an order for a huge group. Simon takes Thursday nights off, so I don’t get a reprieve there. Shit.

I make my way behind the bar and take my time fetching him a Corona with lime—his usual. His eyes watch me the entire time, and I can’t help but squirm under his gaze. Finally, I bite the bullet, plaster on a fake smile, and bounce over to his table.

“Hey, Jack,” I smile as I set his beer down. “Want anything from the kitchen tonight? Mario is teaching Fizz how to make spaghetti. You could be their guinea pig.”

He chuckles warmly at me. “Last time I had one of Fizz’s experimental meals, I was on the shitter for the rest of the night. No, thank you.”

I giggle because Fizz sucks in the kitchen, but Mario is hell-bent on teaching his nineteen-year-old protégé.

“Okay. Well, if that’s all, I’ll let you chill while I go clean some tables,” I say lightly. My intentions are to get away from his table before Slade comes out of his office.

“To hell with those other tables. Do you think I come here for the beer? I come here for the company, Jill.”

I chew on my lip because I feel at a loss for what to do now. But he grins and launches into his usual efforts to get to know me.

“Do you have any tattoos or birthmarks?”

His question strikes me as odd, and my guard goes up—just like Slade has taught me.

While at swimming lessons today, the other girls teased me about my birthmark on my foot.

“They say it’s shaped like a booger.” I scrunch my nose up in disgust.

“Let me see this booger,” Uncle Bruce says seriously.

I haul my bare foot up into his face and wiggle my toes. “See,” I tell him with an exaggerated sigh.

“It could be worse,” he chuckles. “It could be a snotty birthmark. Be thankful for what it’s not instead of upset for what it is.”

Uncle Bruce is wise. Snotty booger birthmarks are way worse.

“Nope,” I lie.

His eyes narrow briefly before he blasts me with another question. “Tell me, Jill. Did you go to college?”

Yes.
“Nope.” Another lie.

He wants me to elaborate—I can tell. But right now, his questions are causing the tiny hairs on the back of my neck to rise.

“Do you like Channing Tatum?”

This time, he charms a grin right out of me because this question is playful and not at all nosy.

“You’d have to be dead not to. Of course I like him,” I giggle.

“Good. Then let me take you out tomorrow night to see his new movie.”

His face is hopeful, and I feel guilty for assuming the worst about him. He likes me and only wants to get to know me. I’m just being a weirdo because I have to be, and it’s making that impossible for him.

Now is the time for the talk.

“Jack, I really like you,” I start.

His eyes darken. “I’m sensing a
but.
”

I bite my lip and nod. “
But
I am seeing someone else. I’m happy with him, and he won’t be happy if I go out with you. I want us to be friends though.” I swallow down the cliché line and add, “It’s nice talking with you when you come in here.”

“Are you sure we’ll be allowed to do even that?” he groans in annoyance, his eyes flicking to behind me.

Slade’s scent invades me first, right before his warm, possessive arm snakes around my middle. “J, I need your help in the office,” he practically snarls into my hair.

I apologize with my eyes to Jack, who just angrily shakes his head, and allow Slade to grab my hand. Then he urgently guides me back toward the office.

“Take her tables,” he orders to Delia.

She just nods mid conversation with a customer, having gotten used to his bossy ass.

Thank God for long legs, because if I had Delia’s, I’d have a hell of a time keeping up with the stalking lion dragging his prey along.

Finally, he pulls me into the office and closes the door behind him. His eyes are all over me—heat filled and needy. Seeing him in his dark-gray T-shirt, which is every bit one size too small, stretched over his expansive and sculpted chest, I get a little weak in my knees. Sure, Jack’s a nice guy, but he is no Derek Slade. Jack is a Kent. Those types belong in the past with Joss.

“Why won’t he leave you the hell alone?” His eyes are searching mine for a fight. I don’t have a fight for him about the matter.

“He’s just lonely. I told him we could be friends but nothing more. I have you now.” I grin seductively at him.

With two long strides, his body presses against mine as he captures my lips with his. My body melts against him, and a small whimper escapes me.

“Correction. I have
you
now,” he murmurs against my lips between kisses.

A blissful sigh escapes me when his hands slide over my breasts. Then his lips break from mine as he trails kisses down my cheek to my earlobe.

“You didn’t have to mark your territory, you know. I had it handled, you big Neanderthal,” I tease but then cry out when he nibbles on my lobe.

Hot breath tickles my ear and melts me to my core.

“Woman. Mine,” he grunts for show, and I giggle.

“Oh my God, you’re impossible.”

He ignores me and begins untying my apron from the back. “I’m going to fuck you real quick, and then you can go bring him another beer. You’ll smell like me mixed with sex. How’s that for marking my territory?”

My pussy throbs when his teeth drag along my neck. As he sucks, I try not to moan loud enough for the whole bar to hear. When he does it harder, I want to gripe at him for leaving another mark on his territory, but it feels too good. Instead, I encourage him by tilting my head back to give him more access.

“Mark it, Derek. I’m yours.” Yep, totally encouraging him.

The noises coming from him are purely animalistic as he begins fumbling with his belt. My hands take to undoing my own jeans as well. Once I have the zipper down, his pants fall to the floor around his ankles, and then his thumbs are in my jeans, pushing them down over my ass.

“I’m going to fuck you over this desk,” he informs me as he turns me toward it and bends me over it.

I eagerly wriggle my butt at him. “Then hop to it, old man,” I tease, which earns me a swat on my ass.

It does nothing to punish me. It only serves to make me impossibly wetter for him.

“No time for any sweetness. Just fucking,” he growls as he positions himself behind me.

I cry out when he slams into me from behind. His pounding is relentless, and each thrust seems like he’s trying to split me in two. I want him to own me inside and out. The desk screeches across the floor in protest, and we ride it like a raft in a turbulent ocean. From this position, he takes me so deep that his dick pops me right in the G-spot with each slam into me. Stars skitter across my vision as my orgasm approaches violently. Without warning, it seizes me, and I’m sucked into uncontrollable shuddering.

“Derek,” I whimper, “I only ever want you.”

My words, even though I’m in the throes of passion, have more than a sexual meaning. This man weaves his way right into my soul. In my soul—in
me.
Not Joss or Jill.
Just me.
He branded me there and took up residence. I’ll only ever want him. When I was with Kent, he never seemed to make my body lose control like Derek Slade does. I feel as if I’ve been sexually awakened and he’s one sexy as sin alarm clock.

His hands squeeze my hips as he stills. The throb of his cock inside me tells me that he’s climaxed. Also, the warm trickle now running down my thigh informs me as well.

“Cupcake, you’re all I ever want too.” He seems surprised and I wonder why.

I release the crumpled invoices I just now realize I was fisting and let him help lift me up from the desk.

“I’m sorry about your desk,” I grin as he hands me some tissues to clean up with.

His dark eyes fly to mine. The way he looks at me—like I’m on the menu at his favorite restaurant—does nothing to help me want to pull up my pants. In fact, his heated stare makes me want to strip down and let him fuck me against the door next.

“I’m not,” he says smoothly. “Now, throw on some clothes before all I’ll only ever want is you to be forever spread across my desk like a fucking Thanksgiving feast of a woman. I’m seriously considering taking you again, J.”

Our naughty plans are interrupted by a knock on the door.

“Newbie? Get dressed and come help me. Fuck break is over.”

We both grin at each other but begin dressing quickly. Slade finishes first and plants a chaste kiss on my forehead.

“We’ll continue this on your next break.”

Once we’re decent, he takes my hand and opens the office door to guide me back into the bar. When he stops dead in his tracks, I bounce off of his massive, stone-hard back.

“Get back,” he hisses.

Something in the tone of his voice scares the shit out of me, so I scramble back into the safety of the office. His hand swats the light switch off and almost closes the door. Then he peers through the opening and scowls at someone out there.

“What is it?” I whisper. My heart is wildly flopping around in my chest as anxiety seeps into my veins.

“People who don’t belong here. People who could be after you,” he murmurs cryptically.

My eyes dart around the dark office as panic sets in. Did Bruce find me?

“Four Asian men, most likely those North Korean thugs, all dressed in expensive, matching suits. They don’t belong in our Podunk town.”

He’s right. Everyone who comes to the bar dresses in simple clothes. Just like the people at the church. This town is the epitome of the casual dressers. Our old skirt uniforms were considered fancy.

“Shit. What do we do?” I question quietly.

Slowly, he eases the door closed and locks it. When the light comes back on, it blinds me. As I blink away the brightness, I see that Slade’s eyes are focused and determined. He strides over to a safe on the wall and begins turning the dial like he’s done it a thousand times. Once he’s put in the combination, he twists the knob and tugs open the door.

“We stay quiet. Then we move.” He pulls out a menacing hand gun and my eyes widen. “Your dad and I were already thinking—”

“You talked to my dad?” I interrupt. I know my father entrusted me under Slade’s protection, but I didn’t realize they were in communication.

“Yes, and he thinks—”

I interrupt him again as he loads bullets into the chamber of the wood framed revolver. “How do you know my dad?”

His eyes lift from the gun and panic briefly flashes across his features before he hardens his stare. I hate the look meant to push me out.

“He hired me to keep you safe.” Vague much?

I sigh in frustration. “Clearly, Slade. But how did you meet him? My dad isn’t exactly in the business of knowing people who can protect his daughter from North Korean thugs.”

He lifts his shirt and slides the gun into the back of his jeans before meeting my questions with a glare. “Goddammit, J. I asked you to fucking trust that I would keep you safe. Enough with the questions.”

Tears sting my eyes at his harsh tone, but I understand. Even though he’s hurt my feelings, he’s right. There could be men out there coming for me, so I need to stop grilling him about it.

“I’m sorry, but let’s not do this right now. Please stay quiet and behind this door. I’m going to go check things out.” His voice is softer this time, and I know he feels bad for barking at me.

“Be careful,” I whisper.

He nods and slips stealthily out of the office, flipping the light switch on the way out. And I’m left in the dark—
in more ways than one.

“Did you pack everything?” Slade asks without lifting his eyes to mine. He’s been on his laptop since the moment those ‘thugs’ left earlier, taking care of paying bills for the bar and communicating with my dad on where he is supposed to take me.