Unexpected Angel Read online

  I need to find someone to manage the day-to-day operations because there are some discrepancies showing up that concern me but I have no time to babysit when my promotions company is finally getting off the ground. I spend at least three days every week out of town scouting new talent to bring to Madison. In five years, our company has gone from a relative unknown to a well-respected promotions agency that can get a band booked at just about any size hall in southern Wisconsin.

  As much as I try to focus on business, my mind keeps drifting to the bedroom. To Tasha. I need to do something to ease the pressure building in my pants, but I refuse to give into the temptation when I know it would be Tasha’s wet, naked body in my mind as I jack off.

  “Tasha, are you just about ready?” I yell down the hall when I see it is already after noon. The game starts at three and there is no sense in driving when we will have to park just about as far away as I live but in the opposite direction. If she doesn’t hurry, we won’t have time to go get her purse, come back to my place and then walk down State Street and over to the stadium.

  When she finally emerges from the bedroom, she looks like she belongs in the student section. I realize how little I know about the woman I shared my bed with last night. For all I know, she could be a co-ed. “How do I look?” She asks twirling around with her arms extended.

  She looks fucking amazing. Her red shirt hugs every subtle curve of her body and the jeans are tight without looking spray painted onto her body. The dramatic makeup from last night is gone, leaving her face looking like smooth porcelain. It’s a shame that she feels the need to embellish her features in any way.

  “Damn, I’m not sure if I should take you to the game looking like that,” I groan, feeling my cock twitch against my jeans. This angel in red is going to be the cause of the world’s worst case of blue balls and she doesn’t even realize it. “Come here,” I add in a stern voice.

  The way she cocks her hip as she folds her arms across her chest in defiance is sexy as hell. It elongates her legs and her arms cross so tight it pushes her perfects tits up and close together.

  “And if I don’t?” She smirks and I know she is testing me. Perhaps my precious Tasha isn’t quite as innocent as she seems.

  I stalk my way over to her, crossing the room in five long steps. “Are you playing with me, Precious?” I ask, tucking a stray hair behind her ear. “Because you should know, I don’t take kindly to being toyed with.”

  She sucks in a deep breath and I know I am getting to her. No matter what she says, she feels the chemistry like I do. My fingers gently trail down her silky skin from her shoulders to her wrists. Pushing her just a bit, I wrap my hands tightly around her wrists and pull them behind my back. There’s no space between our chests and I know she can feel how badly I want her. “Still think I just want to be your buddy?”

  Tasha shakes her head, looking up at me briefly before turning her gaze to the marble tile floor. I squeeze her wrists tighter, wanting her to understand I’m not joking around with her. “Look at me when I ask you a question,” I demand. It’s a risky move but I warned her I was going to push her. Every minute I wait is delaying the inevitable between us. When I feel her shaking against my body, I immediately release her and step away. “Tasha, what’s wrong? Talk to me.”

  “I’m sorry,” she whispers, refusing to look at me.

  She is terrified, of what I can’t be sure. Tentatively, I reach out and cup her cheek. “You need to tell me what’s going on. I don’t ever want you to be afraid of me.”

  She shakes her head again, pursing her lips. “It’s nothing.” Stepping away from me, Tasha walks to the windows and stares into the distance. She rubs her wrists as if she’s in pain. While I wasn’t light with my touch, I know I didn’t grip her hard enough to cause this type of reaction.

  “What did I tell you about lying to me?” I try to keep my voice non-confrontational for her sake, but it pisses me off that there is something going on but she won’t tell me what it is. I need to know so I can avoid making the same mistake again.

  I have seen this body posture before, typically from women who suffer from abuse or mistreatment. The thought that her douche of an ex-husband might have raised his hand to her pisses me off even more. Whoever this idiot is, he doesn’t deserve her. “Tasha, I’m going to ask you a question and I need you to trust me enough to tell me the truth. No more lies, even if you think it’s unimportant.” The subtle nod she gives is all the answer I am going to get, so I continue. “Did he hit you?”

  My fists clench at my sides as I wait for her response. “No, he never hit me.” The way she emphasizes the word “hit” tells me she suffered in some way, just not in the way I fear. I want to kill him. I want to maim the bastard who shattered her. I only hope there is a way to find all the pieces to make her whole again.

  “What did he do?” I growl, not wanting to know but needing to know. She shakes her head feverishly, not wanting to answer the question. I slowly walk over to her, wrapping my arms gently around her waist and her body tenses but she doesn’t pull away from me. “Tasha, I need you to tell me. Right now, I look at you and I see a scared girl. I’d rather kill myself than put that look on your face again, even if it’s by accident.”

  “Why?” She asks softly, her body still rigid in my arms. “Why me?”

  That’s the million-dollar question. What draws me to her in such a way? What is it about her that made me immediately step in to protect and care for her? I could tell her that it’s how she filled out her corset, or it’s her legs that go on for miles, but seeing her standing in front of me wearing jeans and a t-shirt, she is just as sexy if not more. I could say it was the innocent vibe she gave me when I saw her standing all alone in the dark, but I doubt she would appreciate that. Instead, I go with the honest to god truth. “I have no clue. All I know is that when you got scared, I felt your pain in my chest. When I look at you, I want to make sure no one ever hurts you again.”

  “Again?” She finally turns to look at me and I see tears glistening along her eyelids. “I told you he didn’t hit me.”

  “Semantics, my precious girl. He didn’t hit you, but he did something. I can see it in your eyes, feel it in the way your muscles are hard as rock. Now, what did he do?” Every minute that passes is another closer to game time. Personally, I couldn’t care less about the game at this point, but knowing how excited Tasha is to go, I don’t want her past to rob her of having a good time in the present.

  “When he thought I wasn’t listening to him, he’d grab me,” she finally admits. “He would wrap his hands around my wrists and pull me where he wanted me. His voice would get deep and scary as he told me I am worthless.”

  (Tasha)

  What am I doing telling Dylan all about Nick? Even my closest friends don’t know this much about what went on in the privacy of our own home. And Nick always made sure we were home before he manhandled me. Now, I’m pouring my heart out to the beautiful man who just told me he wants me. I’m telling him how weak I am. Not the best way to win a man’s heart.

  I’m not scared of Dylan when he holds me tight to his body. I do trust him. But my body remembers the feeling of Nick’s hands clamped around my arms. The poison of his words. No matter how strongly I feel in my heart that Dylan would never do anything like that to me, I’m unable to control how my body reacts to being touched in certain ways.

  When I finish giving Dylan a brief overview of what my ex-husband was like, he turns my body in his arms, pulling me close to him. “I’m sorry,” he whispers in my ear. It’s strange to feel such tenderness from such a behemoth of a man. “Is that all?” I nod against his chest, my tears dampening the soft cotton of his shirt.

  We make our way back to the kitchen, silence creating a wall between us as we eat the sandwiches and pasta salad Dylan laid out for lunch. Even though we don’t say a word, it feels good to have someone sitting next to me for a change. Ever since Nick moved out, the silence at home on the weekends has been
deafening. It’s funny how I sometimes find myself missing the anger and negativity I felt most of the time because at least then I wasn’t alone.

  “Okay, Precious, it’s time to go.” Dylan grabs my hoodie off the back of his couch, holding it out for me. “We’ll have to get your purse after the game or we’ll be late.”

  I nod, reaching for my phone. I tap out a quick text to Holly letting her know I am alive and in one piece and ask her about her plans for the day. I hope the game is over before she goes out for the evening.

  As I go to lock my phone, I see the notification that I have an incoming text message waiting for me. I don’t recognize the number attached to the note.

  If only I had known sooner…

  I stare at the message for a long moment, trying to figure out if my phone had somehow dropped a contact and this is someone I know. After mentally going through the list of everyone who I have contact with on a regular basis, I put the phone in my pocket, assuming someone sent it to me by mistake.

  (Tasha)

  For my first date as an adult, the football game sets the bar pretty high. Dylan’s friend, Zeke, has prime parking to go along with his season tickets and we tailgate with them until close to kick-off time. Once again, I don’t feel out of place with Dylan and his friends. It feels as if this is exactly where I am supposed to be. A few times, I look over my shoulder, expecting to see someone watching me. No matter what I tell myself, I can’t shake the feeling that someone is there. I shrug, turning my attention back to Zeke and Dylan, watching their easy friendship as they toss a football across the parking lot with another group of partiers.

  When it’s time to find our seats, Dylan’s hand reaches for mine as we weave our way through the sea of red. I look up at him and our eyes meet. In this relaxed setting, Dylan is almost like a different man. He’s not trying to control me or lay claim to me. And the way his eyes light up when he’s peering down at me makes me feel cherished. If I can find a way to make him understand that I have to set boundaries for myself and that I will never hand over control of my life to anyone else again, it’s possible to see myself being happy with him.

  I tuck myself under his arm, allowing him to guide me through the crowd. He winks at me when I move my hand along the back of his jeans, allowing it to slide under his sweatshirt to rest on his hip. The ease I feel when I’m with him shouldn’t be possible so quickly.

  The game itself is intense. Having heard about the rivalry between the two teams, this is my first chance to experience it firsthand. A few times, I think Dylan is going to go to blows with the drunk frat boy sitting next to me. The kid has been increasingly enthusiastic every time Wisconsin scores and by the fourth quarter, he thinks that wrapping his arms around me is an appropriate way to celebrate.

  “Switch seats,” Dylan growls when the kid puts me down. I shake my head, not wanting to cause a scene. “Tasha…”

  I lean closer to him. “Let it go. He doesn’t mean anything by it,” I plead.

  “Next time, you sit between Zeke and me.” As much fun as I’m having, I hadn’t given much thought to anything beyond today. To hear Dylan say he’s hoping there will be a next time lightens my heart. I am still fighting the feeling that he’ll eventually realize I’m damaged goods, not worth the effort it takes to keep up with my mood swings and insecurities. He narrows his eyes as he stares at the college student, cracking his knuckles in displeasure. The kid immediately leans away from me and Dylan relaxes.

  I rub my hand across his thigh, hoping he realizes there is nothing to feel threatened by. He has no right to feel as though the young man is encroaching on what is his, but I’m quickly learning just how deep Dylan’s possessive streak runs. His hand covers mine and we sit through the rest of the fourth quarter.

  After the game, I start to get up to leave when Dylan pulls me back to my seat. “Not yet,” he says playfully. “The best part of the experience is yet to come.” I look around and notice that very few Wisconsin fans are filing out of the stadium.

  The game is over, what else is there?

  I notice the marching band lining up in the end zone. Fans all around me spring to their feet, cheering as the drum major high-steps his way to the middle of the field. I look over at Dylan and he is practically crawling out of his skin with excitement. Thinking back to the t-shirt he loaned me, I realize he has probably been down on that field a number of times when he was in college.

  “Watch this, Precious,” he whispers into my ear. His arm comes around my shoulders and he pulls me close to him as the band starts playing the school’s fight song. “This is what it’s all about!” Turning to look at him, I have the privilege of seeing the most amazing, pure smile spreading from ear to ear.

  “I never would have pegged you as a band geek,” I laugh. The look on his face tells me my statement does not surprise him.

  “Precious, you’re going to learn there’s a lot of things about me that aren’t what they seem.” He turns back to watching the field performance while my eyes are fixated on him. There is no doubt in my mind he will continue to surprise me as I learn more about him.

  After the marching band leaves the field, we descend the stairs and make our way out of the stadium.

  (Dylan)

  “So, I take it things are going well for you and Betsy,” Zeke chides, elbowing me in the ribs as we walk out of the stadium. “You’re a lucky sonuvabitch, you know that?”

  I nod, hoping he’ll let it drop. She isn’t some random girl that I want to spank the hell out of and send on her way. Tasha is someone I want to get to know. I want to show her exactly how precious she is in my eyes. Of course Zeke wouldn’t understand that and I’m not about to explain it with her standing on my other side.

  “Shit man, she must be good for you to go to all that trouble the morning after,” he laughs. We talk about our conquests all the time but hearing him imply that I had screwed Tasha six ways till Sunday pisses me off. “Is she a good little sub? It’s always the ones that look sweet and innocent who will rock your world in the sack.”

  I grab hold of his shirt and shove him against the wall. “Knock it off,” I warn. “You don’t get to talk about her that way. You got me?”

  “Jesus, dude! You need to chill the fuck out.” Zeke smoothes his shirt, and then starts following me. “Look, I’m sorry.”

  “I know,” I grumble, trying to catch up to Tasha. She is so in awe of everything going on around us that I’m pretty sure she didn’t even notice the minor altercation with my best friend. “Just don’t say that shit, okay? She’s not like the girls in the group and I don’t need her freaking out.”

  I can’t remember the last time I let Zeke see me with anyone who isn’t part of The Isthmus Alliance, a safe place to meet others who enjoy alternative lifestyles. I won’t say that we don’t respect them because there has to be mutual respect for scenes to be safe and enjoyable for everyone, but there’s no issue discussing with one another what goes on because everyone there lives openly. Tasha’s not part of that world, and I’m kind of digging that separation for once in my life.

  Zeke slaps me on the back. “You have it bad, huh? In the fourteen years I’ve known you, not once have I seen you act like this. Does that mean you’re finally moving on from what’s-her-name?”

  “Just stop, Z. I’m long past over Angela, and I do date, just no one you ever meet.” Yes, Angela had completely screwed with my head freshman year of college, but it’s crazy to think it would take me almost sixteen years to get over her. She was the first girl I fell in love with, and she ripped my heart out and fed it to the basketball player she was screwing on the side.

  After that, I made a promise to myself to keep sex and emotional attachment in two separate parts of my body. There have been a few girls I thought had potential, but none of them lasted very long. And Zeke never met any of them. I typically try to keep him away from women I do want to get to know because he certainly doesn’t try to be tactful.

  “So why her?
” Zeke asks. It is to be the question of the day. I asked it of myself, Tasha asked me and now Zeke. “You think she’s something more?”

  I watch her walking ahead of us, admiring her tight ass in those jeans. I’m going to have to go back to the store and thank the sales lady who helped me find them. And maybe buy a few more pairs just so I can enjoy that view more often. She turns to say something to me but I’m not there. Panic fills her eyes as she starts scanning the crowd looking for us. My body warms when I see the look of relief on her face when we finally make eye contact.

  “Yeah, I do,” I call over my shoulder as I race to her side. “Hey, you okay?” I ask, wrapping my arms around her. Without the fuck-me boots she was wearing last night, her body is just the right size to meld into my side. The tension melts from her body as she leans into me.

  “Yeah, I just don’t do big crowds very often. Where did you go?” Again, I can’t shake the feeling there is more to her story than what she is telling me but it’s too soon to push her to tell me. As long as I pay attention to her body language, I will slowly but surely learn what triggers her emotional spirals and make note to avoid them.

  I motion behind me to where Zeke is rubbing his shoulder. Maybe I was a bit too rough when I pushed him into the wall. “Had to have a quick chat with Z. I’m sorry I worried you.” I cup her face in my hands. She isn’t small by any means, but she still feels that way next to my large frame. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

  Unlike other times when I asked her questions, her blue eyes lock on mine. “I’m fine.” When I take in a deep breath, trying to determine whether or not she is telling me the truth this time, her hand comes up to my face. “Dylan, I said I’m fine. Today has been amazing, thank you.”

  When she raises herself onto the balls of her feet and brushes her lips against my cheek, it takes everything in me to keep from turning my head and devouring her with my lips. Even though I smell traces of my body wash on her skin, she smells fresh and feminine.