Filth Read online

  The problem is how do I react? He's here, and I can ignore him. He'll feel stupid and go away. My life will go back to being content with small coffee shop exchanges, work and hanging out with Samantha.

  Or...

  I can also toy with Nate's first and only true love—his ego.

  I blank my face of any uncertainty or annoyance and flick my gaze at him for a second. Bad idea. He's just as rugged and fuckable. His hair is sexy messy, and he's dressed like he's about to meet his country club buddies. Let's not forget his thick biceps, equally thick throat and a to-die-for mouth. There's nothing extraordinary about the latter, except I've seen those lips twist into a smile. I've seen them spread and soften to lushness that makes my heart thud. I temper the urge to swallow or sweep my fingers over his mouth to soften the harsh lines they are now.

  “You,” I say with only irritation as the baseline of my tone. I need a goddamn Oscar.

  Silence follows my words, and I swear I can hear Nate's eye twitching. I beat back the smile, because my cool facade is what he deserves for tracking me down.

  I know I'm poking a goddamn bear when I add, “I can hear your teeth grinding, Nate.”

  “Aren't you still curious?” His drawl is so deep a part of me wants him to use it on me again.

  Too much of me is drawn to his banked anger I can almost touch in the air, to his stupidly big ego that's strutting in the simple question...and his fucking voice. I can't overstate the last part.

  With a sigh, I face him. “Curious about why and how you're here? In a coffee shop that I frequent every Monday, in the morning? When in all of space and time I've never seen you in here before? I don't know. Coincidence?”

  His mouth twitches but he doesn't unleash the smile. “You—”

  “Or maybe you hunted me down?” I sound bored and aroused. There's not a damn thing I can do about the latter.

  I should be more scared. I should be running through all the ways he knew where I'd be. On paper he's a stranger. I met him at a nightclub. I spurned his advances and ground my heel in his groin a little while chuckling. And here he is.

  But I...I feel like I know him. He's not Nathan but Nate. He's a lot of things, from what Loraine told me, but crazy isn't one of them. Nor homicidal. Or creepy.

  He'll literally sit your ass on a plate and have you for a meal. You'll be getting dressed, and he'll watch while pressing your panties up to his nose. He won't remember your name if you told it to him five times in a row.

  You tell him to fuck off and die after he's broken your heart, and he will.

  The fact he's here after our exchange is an anomaly.

  And don't you want him to stay?

  Even though my inner voice is a dick, it's right. Some part of me does. I may have told myself we were done in the club, but that small, unhinged part of me took a few of his bishops, and half-hoped he'd come for my queen.

  Tell him to go away and never come back.

  “No,” I say, surely possessed by someone who can't shut the fuck up. “I got it. You must have the last word. It's in your DNA. You listened to that inner voice and let it guide you.” I spread my hands wide. “No, this one is it. You hired a team of former CIA agents to find me. Either way, your...ego…must be so small.” My shoulders tense waiting for his response.

  He chucks my chin like I'm cute. “Can't say the words cock or dick? Didn't take you for a puritan.”

  I open my mouth to obliterate him, but he brushes his thumb down my neck. The pad of his thumb is rough. My skin heats at the teasing caress. I'm touch-starved. It's the only reason the sensation of his skin against mine feels like every single sense is being awakened. It's why my mouth betrays me by letting out a moan. His eyes light at the sound.

  I can't have that. “I'm pretty sure your cock can only be seen with a microscope.”

  His mouth quirks again because we both know they are big words and that's all they are. My bravado is fading in the wake of him.

  How could anyone believe some asshole could make it seem like the world has disappeared? That his gaze draws you in. His smile and the warmth of his voice could make butterflies twist in your stomach. Even if you hate him. Especially if you despise his very existence. Nate is an experience that I'm slowly realizing I'm not equipped for.

  I don't even know why I'm trying to be. I need out of this situation. His charm is pulling me under and making me forget that he's so not the guy I should be testing. Underneath the dark water of him is pleasure. It's promised at the bottom of his depths. I don't need that from Nate. Anyone but him.

  I face the counter and pray my drink is ready.

  Once again he uses his voice on me. “I only have one question...”

  He's so full of himself I can't help but snap back. “Still can't remember my name?”

  “You never gave it to me.”

  He caught that. “The question?”

  “You said I destroyed a woman's world. Who?”

  Like a switch inside me the anger floods back in. He doesn't deserve to know her name, to speak it now that he's gotten a taste of my revenge. “It's amazing your mouth hasn't fallen off from all the pussy you must have eaten.”

  “I use a dental dam for protection. I like my mouth. I like being able to use it.”

  I glance at him, surprised at his honesty. Surprise unfortunately turns into curiosity. “How many women?”

  “I don't know. I don't count.”

  “Can you remember anyone's name?”

  Red creeps up his neck. He's embarrassed. I painted him as a bad guy in my mind since the first moment I heard about him. I hadn't thought he was capable of such an emotion. It's interesting and telling, but it doesn't matter.

  'Cause I'm not going to fuck him.

  “You never gave me your name,” he says again.

  At that I frown. How did he find me if he doesn't know my name? I shake my head because that, too, is a moot point. I have plans for him to shuffle right back out of my life. This was interesting, and he was maybe a little pulse-pounding but—no. No.

  Out of the corner of my eye, Charlene moves forward with a green foamy drink. She meets my eye. I move forward to get it.

  When I face him again he's got a fuck-you glare reserved for my hand. Takes me a moment to realize it's because he can't see my name on the cup. My hand is wrapped around it. I shouldn't be amused or feeling remotely triumphant, but I think I need to accept these emotions. And roll in them like a pig in shit.

  That pissed off stare meets mine head on. My stomach flutters again. It's well past time for him to go.

  “Nathan,” I say, trying to keep my tone reasonable for this brush off.

  “Drop the act.” He sighs like I'm the one being difficult. “Tell me what I need to know and I'll go.”

  All amusement fades, because I know he means Loraine. He dated her for months. He had, what I can assume from the details she gave me, an intimate relationship. Even though they were a sex-centered couple, he never treated her like a piece of ass. Not like some manwhores do. For three months.

  And he can't remember anything about her?

  Fuck him.

  “That's the problem,” I snap. “I could tell you a name, and you won't even know who I'm talking about.” I shake my head, disgusted with myself for explaining something so simple. He knows what he is, what he's done. If he's looking for answers or forgiveness it's too little, too late. “And then you'll be back for more information. You'll keep coming back like an ingrown toenail.”

  “Try me.”

  I give him a blank stare. “Corine.”

  It takes all of three seconds for him to mutter, “fuck,” but then he has the nerve to glare at me like I'm the one in the wrong.

  I scoff. “It's not even her name, and you had no idea.”

  He scrubs a hand over his face. “What do you want me to say?”

  I shrug. “You've said it all for me, personally.”

  His chin tilts up then in a somber tone he asks, “And when
it's not personal for you?”

  That's the last question on earth I want to answer. I check the door to see if Samantha has walked in yet, but she hasn't. His fingers close around my arm. The touch is firm though I can break it if I want. I don't want to. I can feel every one of his fingers. It's not just his hand on me. It's his fingertips pressing into my funny bone. His palm a steady warmth on my forearm. His thumb resting in the crease of my arm. His hand on me radiates through my skin making every inch of me tingle.

  God. I hate him for making me feel this way. It's so easy to sneer. “Do you want me to absolve you of all your sins? Tell you you're not a user? An asshole? What do you want, Nate?”

  He traces his thumb over my forearm. It's hard for me to breathe, to concentrate on why I want him back out of my life.

  “Give me the name I want.”

  I will never give him Loraine's name. Never. That doesn't get to be in his mouth. “And then what? You ruin her life some more?”

  His fingers tighten around me. “Keep that secret then.”

  His anger pulses through me, but we haven't met a stalemate. He didn't hunt me down to only find out Loraine's name. “In exchange for what?”

  “You know what.”

  His fingers trail down to my pulse. No amount of lies—hell, no truths—can change the fact my heart is racing. My body is on board to let him do every filthy thing I can see flashing behind his blue irises. He skims his thumb back and forth over my wrist, and...I hate him. I hate how he's turning me on by doing so little.

  He narrows his gaze on me then drops his hand. “You know what I am.” He pauses then almost smiles. “Are you saying I could destroy your world?”

  Cocky bastard. I laugh though my skin still buzzes like I've been harboring electricity—all because he'd touched me. “There wasn't any CIA to help you find me. It was all you. You spent hours on the Internet until you did. All because you like the way I taste.” To shake off the rest of his effect on me, I take a drink. Only a small part of me wishes it was half booze. “Do you want another, Nate? What will you do to get it?”

  “My friends helped me find you.” He sounds amused instead of annoyed. “No CIA in the bunch.”

  I try to recall if Loraine had mentioned friends and all my brain scares up is Duke. Not that hard to forget. He's a shark of an attorney. “Are they as perverted as you?”

  The way his eyes track to the left, I know the answer before he says it. “Want to meet them? Let them put their hands up your skirt and fondle you, too?”

  Now, the asshole says this and caresses me again.

  I want to kick him, but I force my voice to remain sugary sweet. “You're just special, and you warranted extreme measures.”

  He glances down at my hand. My damn heart is so treacherous. He dips his head so we're eye-to-eye. “Who is this person to you? You let me, someone you clearly detest, stick his fingers in your cunt.”

  I almost laugh at the realization he's testing me to see what pisses me off. He has no idea what I like in bed, and cunt is just a warm up word sometimes. Maybe he would have caught a glimpse of that in my gaze if he wasn't eyeing my hips. “No,” I say.

  He blinks. “What?”

  “I can see what you're thinking. I'm not going somewhere alone with you to talk. Actually, I'm going to talk to Samantha when she gets here, and you can go away. Or wait in vain for me to notice your existence again.”

  He straightens. “Is she the one? Did you hear about me through her?”

  He's persistent. I'll give him that. I sip my drink, trying to decide what I want to tell him and what he should know.

  “She was a virgin,” I spit at him like my words are venom. “The woman you broke. I'm pretty sure eventually, she might have liked to get spanked and tied up, but now she'll never know. You dropped her like trash in the street and fucked her up.”

  His jaw flexes. “Where were you to tell her to run in the other direction from me? Since we're putting responsibility on everyone.”

  “I met her after the fact.” I take another sip. “Do you remember her now?”

  “If I apologized, would that make you happy? You can call her up, and I’ll let her know that I fucked her over and I wish her all the best.”

  My breath hitches at his offer. That I hadn't expected either. Yet there's something in his voice that trips me up. “Would you mean it, or do you just fake sincerity?”

  “I sincerely want you on my bed.” He turns his face as though he's expecting a slap.

  A laugh spills out of me. He's horrible, and he knows it. I don't know if that's refreshing or disturbing. Both? I'm charmed by the raw honesty of who he is. He needs a tattoo on his forehead that simply says RUN. Yes. In all caps.

  I need him gone. Now. “Go away, you pig.”

  “I'm going to wait in vain.”

  I should have known that would be his answer. He found me, and he doesn't even know my name. He's not going away until he gets what he wants. “You're going to wait to see what kind of car I get into and jot down my license plate.”

  “And you're not bothered by any of that?”

  Once again I have to look at my emotions. I'm still not disturbed by him being here in my coffee shop. My reaction to him is what's throwing me off-kilter.

  I dig deeper, and I don't have to think long about my answer. Hating him for even this short amount of time has distracted me from my grief. I don't know if that's sick or twisted. Both? Probably both.

  But he's standing here, and I can feel the way my blood pumps in my veins. I can hear excitement, need, disgust, and laughter in my voice.

  Once again, I tell him the only thing he needs to know. “I like being able to tell you you're the scum of the earth. To your face. As often as I can. Brings me joy.”

  It's his turn to laugh. After a moment though his expression turns serious. “How'd you know?”

  I frown at the quick subject change. “What?”

  “That I'd want to eat you?”

  “You're a pervert,” I state the obvious. “It's not about me. It's about the fact you can't have me. I'm epic in your mind simply because I told you no.”

  Red flashes in the corner of my eye as the coffee shop door opens. Relief rushes into me. I don't wait to see what Nate does next to draw me in. I make my way over to Samantha.

  If life is fair, he'll leave me alone now.

  But life rarely is.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  ROBYN

  “You're shitting me.” Samantha gasps as she slams her hands down on the table.

  Sure, I told her about Nathan Ellis. Yes, The Nate—the one damned to hell in our small group when we first met at grief counseling. I honestly thought he was a legend.

  Then I met him. Now I believe everything Loraine told me about him, and after two exchanges… She left out so much.

  I peer across the table to Samantha who is trying her hardest not to stare at Nate.

  “It's Nathan, for sure.”

  “No. Like...are you serious? Nathan Ellis is Fuckable from the club?”

  “Yup.” And I fight a laugh as Samantha sits there with her mouth half open.

  She's settled in at our table in the coffee shop by the window. It's mid-morning now. Beautiful outside, but I can't concentrate on any of that. I keep my face free of any emotion. I know he hasn't moved his gaze an inch away from me since I sat down. He might, eventually, but right now he's intent on imploding the very fabric of my life.

  The only thing that saves me are the years I've spent sitting in a courtroom or meetings as a seen-but-never-heard paralegal. Otherwise, I might have Samantha's outward reaction to Nate tracking me down.

  When I threw down the final gauntlet...how could I have known he'd see my brush-off as epic?

  Well, okay, it was epic, I just didn’t expect his reaction. I couldn’t have foreseen my own.

  I say, “I need you to dig into your purse like you are looking for something important. I need to...collect myself.”

 
She frowns at the instructions. “Why wou—”

  “If you think for one moment he’s not watching our every move...”

  And because Samantha is that die-hard friend, she lifts her purse from the free seat beside her and starts to dig around.

  “I love you,” I say. “I love you with every snarky bit inside of me.”

  Her cheeks bloom red at the compliment. “I do this in hopes of getting every detail out of you.”

  Of course, but now I have time to cross my arms over my chest and will my nipples to stand down. They ache. He’d touched me. Held onto me, and whatever chant I had in my head about not fucking him, not being amused by him, never forgetting for one moment he’s scum of the earth...that noise had dimmed. It was me and him as he claimed that small part of me.

  It’s six thousand shades of wrong. I’m a traitor. To my very core. What about Loraine? What happened to how he’d hurt her? What happened to the certainty I will not become another one of his victims?

  I wince. That's unfair. He may be a pig, but he seems like a guy who loves consent. Probably even loved being called Sir before breaking out a flogger. He probably doesn't utter a lie about the kind of relationship you'll have with him, and still he gets mad pussy.

  Hell, look at me. I'm considering the dark side. Me, the woman who once told her second grade teacher I glimpsed a pop quiz for five seconds and couldn't, in good conscience, take the test.

  That woman is tempted. The force is goddamn strong in him.

  Samantha groans and stops pretending to search her purse. “That look.”

  “What look?”

  “The one you're wearing right now...” Samantha tilts her head up and stares at the coffee shop's ceiling for a long second. “I want you to really listen to me right now. Put aside that I want to sit here with popcorn and watch you and Nathan spar.”

  I open my mouth to argue, to give all the reasons why the chemistry between Nate and I means jack shit. It's a no-go. He found me. The city's not a metropolis, but it's big enough that up until now I have never seen him.