Prologue
Emma
I pushed through the door of Kimmy’s bar, my heels hitting all the notches on the worn wood floor. I was wearing my tight little dress again, hoping to have a little fun after such a shitty day. Blake ended up calling me for a booty call yet again, and despite me telling him I was no longer interested, he wasn’t taking no for an answer. It wasn’t anything to do with him, per se. He just could no longer please me in the bedroom. I needed more than he was willing to give me. I ask for pain, and he gives me a wimpy-ass smack. I was tired of faking my orgasms for a man I didn’t even see myself ever being anything more than fuck buddies with.
Of course he ended up calling me too much, too opinionated, too loud, and too emotional. Whatever. Fuck him. He wasn’t the only guy out there with a dick, and that’s why I’m here, hoping to find someone else to satisfy me. My friend had been telling me about ‘munches’ for people in the lifestyle, where people meet up and can find other Doms/subs or just have a good time with like-minded people. But I guess something always turned me off from showing up, mostly me being scared.
I just wanted water and a good time tonight. Even if that means finding another guy that wasn’t a Dom in the bedroom. Sliding onto one of the open barstools, I smiled at the bartender and ordered my water. I sat there, watching the ice melt, tryingnot to think too hard because every time I did, I thought about all the things that were wrong with me.
Someone sat down a few barstools down. He wasn’t facing me, but even from here I could see that man was a walking girl magnet. Holy shit. He kept his head down, avoiding everyone else but the bartender. Must have been a rough day for him, too. Drinking the rest of my water, I stood up, trying to put on my game face and remind myself I could talk to people. I could talk to him. The worst he could do is turn me down, but as soon as my feet hit the floor, I heard Blake’s rough voice.
“Well, look who it is,” he grinned. “I thought I would find you here. Things don’t change, do they?”
I flinched but didn’t look at him. Instead I tried to walk to the door. I wasn’t in the mood to fight, not tonight.
“What, no tears? No yelling? You don’t want to act like you’re the victim?”
I clenched my jaw, willing him to just leave me alone or the floor to open up. Whichever would be faster.
“You’re such a fucking slut. A dirty whore. I mean, look at you.”
I bit my lip, trying to push past him again, but he blocked my way. “Don’t walk away now. We were just getting to the good part. Wait, no, you decided I was no longer good enough for your psycho sex fantasies. Fuck you, Emma.”
I clenched my eyes shut, but then I heard a thud. Sharp. Sudden.
My eyes flew open to see Blake hit the ground with a grunt, holding his jaw. Standing over him was the guy that was sitting by me. Tall, in a leather jacket, eyes calm and cold. Talk about Mr. Grumpy.
“Leave her alone,” the man growled, voice low. “She wasn’t put on this earth to please guys like you.”
The bar went dead silent. I blinked, stunned. Unable to take my eyes off him, whoever he was. He turned to me, not smiling, not asking anything. Just a nod as he pulled out his wallet and handed me a twenty-dollar bill. “Take a cab, get home.”
I nodded back, my breath caught somewhere between shock and gratitude, but also liking how he just controlled that situation and then gave me an order. I shouldn’t have liked that as much as I did.
“Thanks,” I said softly.
He didn’t say another word to me as he stepped over Blake and walked out the door.
And for the first time since ending things with Blake, I knew for sure I made the right decision. I needed a man likehim.
One
Emma
Some days I hate being an adult. I hate being responsible. For once, I just want someone to take care of me. I was forced to be independent from a young age, and some days I’m so fucking tired of not having anyone other than my brother to lean on. I get shit done on my own and have from a young age. My father left when I was two, and my mom was always busy doing God knows what. Leaving my older brother and me to fend for ourselves and figure out life on our own, but somehow we did.
He learned how to use a stove years before any child should be allowed to. Somehow there was always a meal I was willing to eat because he had cooked it. It wasn’t until I started getting sick and ended up in the hospital that everything had changed. When the doctors told me I had type one diabetes, I thought my father would come home. That my mother would stop drinking and doing drugs, but they didn’t care. If anything, I was more of an inconvenience than I already had been. It forced us to grow up faster than we should have. My mother made it clear that she thought it was from eating too much shit while she was away onher binges. The doctor explained to her that that isn’t how you get type one, but of course she wouldn’t listen.
Jake was set on learning everything he could, and he took care of me. Maybe it wasn’t fair that a ten-year-old was taking care of a seven-year-old, but he did the best he could. He always made sure my blood sugar was checked, I was eating, and I was feeling okay. We quickly learned that test strips were expensive, and Mom refused to pay, blaming me once again and telling me that if I just ate normally, I would be okay. That I needed to stop eating anything with sugar and only eat healthy food. Again, most of the time, my blood sugar istoo low. So, Jake, being the best brother and having to take care of someone he never should have had to, resorted to stealing the test strips for me.
He only got caught once, and thankfully it was by Miss Anne, who knew about our situation. From that day on, test strips always showed up in our mailbox, and sometimes other things like snacks, clothes, and books. Anything she could think of to make our life a little better. I’m not sure what Jake and I would have done without her during that time, or if I would even be alive right now. While I no longer talk to my mom, I still call Jake almost every other day. He never really got out of father mode when it came to me. Even though I’m an adult and remind him that I can take care of myself, he’s still there to assure me that he has my back if I ever need him. Sometimes, I miss having a brother, but I guess I needed a father too.
But ever since that mystery man punched Blake in the face for me months ago, I’ve been wondering if maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to have someone by my side. Someone likehim. Someone who happened to hear a man calling me all these names came straight over, punched him in his smug face, handed me money, and told me to go home. I didn’t even know his name at that time, but I became obsessed with him and wanted to knoweverythingabout him.
What I didn’t expect was to end up working with him side by side. Five days after that night, the company I work for as a design coordinator picked up a project in collaboration with his construction firm, C&E. And just like that, the mystery man was no longer a fantasy. He was real. And kind of a dick. Turns out, I liked him a lot more when I didn’t know what kind of man he actually was. The type who barely talks unless it’s to bark orders, always serious, and always sharp around the edges. Our conversations are short and clipped, professional at best. But every time I glance his way, I catch him already looking. And damn it, if that doesn’t make my feelings worse. Neither of us has mentioned the night at the bar. Sometimes, I wonder if he even remembers me.
I was never the girl who really formed an attachment to people, especially men. But fuck, watching him right now as he does the countertops in the master bathroom has me clenching my thighs together. It’s been hell seeing him work. That messy brown hair, the white T-shirt always smudged with dirt, and those damn Levi’s jeans with holes in the knees. He shouldn’t look that good doing something so simple, but he does. And maybe that’s the problem. I told myself I just wanted one night. One night to scratch the itch, to satisfy the curiosity. But something about the way he stepped in that night, no hesitation, just action, made him feel like a hero to me. Maybe I’ve got some twisted thing in me. When a man shows me the slightest care, it flips a switch, making me feel attached when I shouldn’t. Especially to someone like him, a man who barely makes eye contact with me.
I had been feeling a little off for the last hour, not dizzy exactly, but not fully there either. A fuzziness in my head. I chalked it up to nerves at being around Connor or maybe the lack of caffeine. I pulled out my phone to check my blood sugar, but someone called my name and startled me. I jumped at thesudden sound, spinning around to find someone from Connor’s company. I think his name was Garrett, giving me a curious look.
