Hurting To Feel (Carpool Dolls) (5 page)

His
eyes softened. His lips twitched. She glared. The jerk was laughing at her.

"Oh,
I'll dream of you." He pressed his lips to her forehead. He simply held
her head while he inhaled and ended with a soft smack of his lips to her
forehead. "Sweet dreams, doll."

He
opened the door and strode out of her life. She stood, staring out at him as he
opened his car. She had no idea how to handle a man like him.

Nate
paused at the driver's door. "Lock the door, Addy."

She
jolted, stepped back, and slammed the door shut. Leaning her head against the
wood, she fingered the deadbolt and flipped the lock. Her heart raced. He was
coming back tomorrow. She pressed her lips together and screamed in
frustration. She was not going out with him. Ever.

Chapter
Five

At
four o'clock, Nate walked out of his office and straight to the florist shop.
Then he went home to his house in the North Hills, hit the weights, showered,
and hoped he'd worked off enough energy to keep himself out of Addison's bed.

He
hardened thinking about his date, and wanted to skip the frills. Last night
turned out better than he imagined. The way she'd stood up to him amused him,
and he'd have fun beating her stubbornness out of her.

Other
women had tried to control him, and in the end they cowered before him, taken
by surprise. Yet, Addy fought him every step, despite her body saying otherwise.
He inhaled deeply, enjoying the way he was feeling. She changed when he kissed
her, and it was as if a switch flipped inside of her. She let herself go,
holding nothing back from him.

It
was at that moment, he was positive he was right. She was a submissive.

She
hid it well, almost too well. A businesswoman, setting her own rules, and even
being okay with him believing she was a prostitute. It was all a cover. Why?

To
keep him away? To protect herself? Tightness grew inside of him, and he rubbed
his chest to ease the tension. She was a challenge.

On
the way out of the house, he grabbed the flowers, the extra garage door opener,
and walked into the garage. He eyed the Harley Davidson and climbed into the
BMW. Next date, he'd see about taking her to the coast on his motorcycle.
Tonight, he had other plans and he wanted to make sure she knew where she
belonged.

With
rush hour over, he cruised along I-5. By the time he crossed the bridge into
Washington, he had to turn his headlights on against the night. Yesterday, he'd
been surprised to follow Addison into the old section of the Couve. But finding
her living in a historical house, updated to the original charm, came with the
image he had of Addison.

Polished
and classy, running a rather successful small business, she had her life going
for her. Her attitude kept him interested. Her reaction to him in bed hooked
him. A woman who had the power to go toe to toe with him, yet allowed him to
take her higher while submitting to his needs was one to keep around until he
tired of her.

What
was it Professor always said? 'Until you find a woman strong enough to keep you
straight, you'll never settle down. You're too competitive and you live on the
edge where others never walk. When business becomes old news and the challenge
wears off, you'll need a woman who can support you and keep you content. You
haven't found that woman yet, Nathan.'

At
the time of their conversation, he'd denied there was such a woman out there.
By everyone else's opinion, he had his life planned out and concreted in the
ground. He was set for life.

Business
was booming. He snapped his fingers and signed contracts appeared on his desk. Yet,
Professor Frank had seen through the fame and bull, and knew Nate's personal
life was in the shitter.

Having
lived off the streets as a kid, he kept his two lives separate. The kind of
woman Professor Frank talked about would never take a second look at him after
figuring out what he needed in his life and where he came from. They'd look at
his bank account and zero in on him, and he wouldn't settle for a woman who saw
his price tag before the man.

Besides,
that type of woman he couldn't protect against himself. Addison—he inhaled
deeply—he had a feeling she could handle the darkness inside of him.

For
the first time in thirty-five years, he finally found a woman who made him work
for her attention. After finding out she employed women on the street, he hoped
to hell she'd have the strength to give him what he needed. Her vulnerable side
mattered more than her firm stance, but she'd need it all if she was going to
survive what he hoped would be a relationship between them.

He
pulled in front of Addison's house. All her lights were on throughout the place.
He hesitated, pushing down the adrenaline of seeing her again. At least she
wasn't going to hide from him and pretend she wasn't home.

With
flowers in hand, he walked up the cobblestone pathway to the front door. He
pushed the buzzer and rocked back on his heels. His chest tightened and he
realized he hadn't felt this excited in a long time. Not even beating Pierce
out of the Montgomery contact filled him with the kind of rush he seemed to
thrive on.

Several
minutes passed, and he rang the bell again. Impatient, he set the flowers on
the chair on the porch and removed his cell phone out of his pocket. Stuart
Kendall forwarded all the information on Addison this morning, and he'd
programed her home number in after thinking he'd call and make sure she was
ready for tonight. Then he thought better of giving her a way out, and never
called.

He
could hear her phone ring from outside the door.
Come on, Addy. Pick up.

The
call clicked on. "I'm unable to answer your call right now. Please—"

He
disconnected, and stepped over to pound on the door. "Addy. Open the
door."

When
she didn't come, he paced the length of the porch. Once. Twice.

Disgusted
at finding himself waiting when Addison was obviously not going to come to the
door, he walked away, leaving the flowers behind. Angered over getting his
hopes up, he tore away from the curb and drove away. His foot grew heavy as he
watched the speedometer climb. He squeezed and twisted his grip on the steering
wheel. No one turned him down.

He
paid people to run his company. Every aspect of his life could be bought and
paid for. His personal life, he handled alone.

He
punched his fist on the wheel, and took the exit onto Marine Drive. In no mood
to go home, he went back to where he was comfortable. He knew the dirty streets
better than he knew the business district of downtown.

In
his old neighborhood, he drove straight to Billy's. From the outside of the
rundown building, all appeared dark and deserted, but he knew inside the lights
were on and there was someone always willing to take a few rounds in the ring.

In
fifteen years, he'd only fallen back to returning a dozen times. When Professor
Frank forced him to open up, when he'd lost the Shelton contract and fifty
million dollars, and every time he tried to outrun the darkness inside of him,
he went back to the familiar.

Here,
he controlled the outcome. Here, he could hurt others and nobody gave him a
second look. Here, he could escape the idea that Addison was untamable.

He
pushed through the backdoor, assaulted with the conversant scent of dank sweat,
rubber, and beer coming from the alley. He stood inside, out of breath. Until
he'd set foot back in the building, he hadn't realized how much he was running.
Running away from Addison, running away from reaching for the unattainable and
the constant, running away from who he'd become.

"Hey,
Nate," Big Dawg pulled himself up from his spot by the ring.

Dawg's
cigar threw up smoke and his potbelly hung over his jeans, below his Gold Gym
T-shirt. He grabbed the beefy hand Dawg offered, and let the big guy pull him
in to a shoulder bump.

"How's
it going?" he said.

"Still
alive." Dawg removed his cigar. "Long time no see."

"Yeah."
He peered around the gym. "Anyone looking for some time in the ring?"

"Feel
like doing some foot work, eh?" Dawg stuck his dirty fingers in his mouth
and whistled. "Romero, put on the gloves."

A
twenty-something year old built like a brick lifted his chin and stuck his
hands up. Nate peeled off his coat and tossed it to an empty chair. Then he
unbuttoned his shirt. "You still have my gloves?"

Dawg's
face split into a grin. "Hell yeah. I'll get them."

He
threw his shirt over his coat, leaned down, and undid his shoes. His muscles
bunched along his back. Tense and ready to hit, he shook his arms and bounced
in place. He'd really thought Addison would open the door for him. The fact
that she didn't disappointed him more than he wanted to admit.

He'd
set his sights on her. She'd been insulted that he thought she was selling her
body, but it was more. She wasn't ashamed or embarrassed on where his thoughts
took him. She was insulted that he would offer her a job because he assumed she
was a hooker and below him.

Why
would someone like her defend someone who made their living on the streets? Was
she a Good Samaritan who took in the homeless for bragging rights or was she a Professor
Frank who saw inside a person and unselfishly gave her time to help someone
else?

He
fisted his hands. Not many woman aroused him on sight. Coupled with the way
she'd come alive underneath him, he wanted more. He wanted her to beg. Until
recently, he hadn't realized how much he wanted a permanent outlet.

A
vessel for him to unleash. A woman who'd fall down and bounce back up, ready
for more. Who got off on the pain he could inflict. Only in that way, would she
understand his need to take everything from her.

"Hands
up." Dawg approached him, tossing the gloves on the floor, and sticking the
edge of the white tape he carried between his teeth.

He
held his hands in front of him, palms toward him, flexing his fingers as Dawg
wrapped his knuckles. The old feelings came back. He'd already proved himself
to the outside world, but in here, he started at the bottom. The other guy he
was fighting didn't know jack about him.

Addison
Flint had no idea who she was dealing with.

Dawg
slipped the gloves on Nate's hands, stepped back, and pulled the ropes apart.
"Try not to get yourself killed."

"That's
the goal." He lifted his chin before ducking his head and jumping into the
ring.

Shorter
than him by a few inches, Romero made up for the lack of height by outweighing
Nate by a good twenty-five pounds. Not to mention, Romero was at least fifteen
years his junior and had the cocky attitude Nate remembered having himself when
he was younger. He lifted his gloves and danced around his opponent.

The
first punch came to his stomach. He grunted, irritated for himself for
tightening up, he swung with his right, and popped Romero on the chin. Shit,
that felt good.

Adrenaline
fueled him forward. This is what he lived for growing up. Working up a sweat,
hitting some flesh, and thinking there was nothing in the world that could take
him down.

Pain
whipped his head around. He shook the hit off, punching his way out. One, two,
three. Romero's uppercut clipped him under the chin. Flashes of light filled
his vision and he moved forward, hitting low, until arms circled his upper body.

He
threw Romero off him and jabbed. He didn't need Addy.

She
could stay in the house, denying her attraction to him all she wanted and her
rebuttal couldn't touch him. He swung a roundhouse before delivering a kidney
punch that took Romero to his knees. He needed no one. He never had.

He
continued swinging. Fuck Addy.

Over
and over, he proved how he could do without her. He could have anyone, use
anyone, and kill anyone. It was all about beating the darkness back, and he
always found ways to let loose. Professor was wrong. One person wouldn't change
him. He needed to cause pain, and anyone would do.

"Rafferty!
End it." Dawg threw a metal chair in the ring. "You're out."

He
stepped back, breathing hard, and stared down at his opponent. Romero hung his
head, resting on his hands and knees. Blood dripped onto the matt.

Nate
rubbed his arm across his mouth. A streak of his own blood left a trail on his
skin and the sweet taste filled his mouth.

He
ripped off his gloves, threw them out of the ring, and jumped down. He ignored
Dawg cussing him out, and swept up his clothes. This was who he was.

He
enjoyed causing pain, blood, and seeing someone cower at his feet. Nothing
compared to surviving.

He'd
forgotten himself the last couple of days. Thought he could be happy hanging
around Addison when he knew he was only pretending. She'd run from him if she
could she him now. Hot from the fight, hanging out in a part of town known for transients
and drug houses on every corner.

Out
of the building, he walked straight to his car and climbed in. His phone rang
on his seat, and he picked it up without looking to see who was calling.