Monica Murphy - Torn

“You have a phone call.” Gina peeks her head around my office door, and I squeal, clicking out of the camera feed so quick I swear I strained my finger.

“Holy crap, you scared me.” I rest my hand against my chest, feeling my rapidly beating heart. If she’d come inside, she probably would’ve seen the footage. How could I explain that?

And how the hell do I get rid of it?

“Didn’t mean to.” She lingers in the doorway, wiping her hands on her apron.

“Who is it?” I ask, breathing deep, smoothing a shaky hand over my hair as I try to gain some composure. Watching the video of Gage and me together has me rattled. And I didn’t even really get to see anything.

I saw enough, though, to remember just how good he made me feel.

“I don’t know. I happened to pick it up when I went out to the front and he didn’t leave a name. Just asked for you.” Gina leaves without saying anything else, and I reach for the phone.

“Hello, this is Marina.” The person on the other end is silent for so long I wonder if they’ve hung up. “Hello?”

“Hey,” the word is breathed out, the voice undeniably familiar.

“Gage?” I tighten my fingers around the receiver, startled he’s calling me. I thought he’d hate me, after what I did to him. “Um . . .”

“Yeah, this is awkward. Listen, I talked to Archer about you.”

I’m stunned. Why would he still talk to Archer about me? “You did?”

“He’s willing to meet with you sometime next week. He said for you to call his direct number at the office and you two can set up a meeting. You want the number?” Gage asks, sounding efficient. Very business as usual.

Nothing at all like the man who held me in his arms last night, murmuring filthy words in my ear while he pushed inside me so deep I thought I might splinter in two.

“Yes, I want it. Let me grab a pen.” I find a notepad and pen and jot down the number Gage rattles off, his deep voice sending tingles sweeping over my suddenly too-hot skin.

Just hearing him talk on the phone and I’m a goner. This is so ridiculous.

“Why are you being so nice to me?” I ask, clutching the phone so tight I know my knuckles are white. “I—”

“Treated me like crap last night? Yes, you did.” He pauses, as if struggling with whether he should say something or not, and I silently urge him to go ahead and just say it. I don’t care what it is. I might get angry but . . . I doubt it.

Or the anger will just be rapidly chased by arousal, so hey, that works too, right?

The man has turned me into a sick, twisted woman.

I want to apologize to him for being such a bitch last night and kicking him out, but I just can’t find it in me to say I’m sorry. And that makes me feel like an even bigger bitch. “I panicked,” I say instead.

“Because we had sex in the kitchen of your bakery?”

Closing my eyes, I let my head fall to my desk, thumping my forehead on the thick pile of papers. “Yes,” I agree weakly.

“I know. I did too.”

He didn’t seem panicked. He’d been really sweet and aggressive and sexy and gentle. I’ve never had sex against a wall in my life. I’ve never been touched, kissed, fucked—yes definitely never fucked—like that ever. Ever, ever, ever.

So it blows my mind that something so crazy, so absolutely, terrifyingly wonderful, happened with a man I don’t really like.

You like him when he has his hands all over your body and his tongue in your mouth.

Lifting my head, I open my eyes and scowl, banishing the nasty little voice inside my head and focus instead on the man I’m talking to.

“I know you regret what happened, and I feel bad for pushing myself on you,” he explains. “So I thought I’d call up Archer and get this handled for you. It’s the least I can do.”

I don’t regret what happened. Well, maybe I do a little, but who regrets great sex? “You didn’t really push yourself on me. And thank you,” I whisper, feeling a little choked up because really, the man could’ve told me to fuck off and die and I wouldn’t have blamed him. I would’ve deserved it.

“You’re welcome.” He pauses, again as if he’s struggling with what to say next, and I get it. I feel the same way. “I’ll uh, see you around.”

Panic flares. I can’t let him go. Not like this. “Wait a minute! Don’t I, um . . . owe you dinner?”

He remains quiet, but I can hear him breathing. “You don’t owe me anything, Marina.”

I love the way he says my name, his deep voice seeming to caress every letter. Holy crap, do I have it bad for a man I don’t like. “It’s the least I can do,” I murmur, throwing his words back at him. Maybe . . . maybe we can see each other again. One more time. It wouldn’t hurt, right? And I need to make it up to him, how awful I was. How I basically forced him to leave.

We had amazing sex, and then we were almost angry over it. Like we resented each other or something. So weird.

I’m tired of feeling resentful. Can’t we just . . . enjoy this connection?

“You’re serious.” He sounds incredulous. I’m not surprised.

“A deal’s a deal, right?” Reaching for my mouse, I bring the security site back up, pleased to see I didn’t exit completely out of it after all. The screen is right where I left it, me being held captive by Gage against the wall. I speed it up a bit, to the part where I can see we’re completely naked. My legs are wound around his waist, my heels digging into his perfect, flexing ass as he pushes deep inside me.

I’m transfixed. Watching us having sex, having him on the phone, it’s like Gage overload.

“You don’t owe me this. I don’t want you throwing this dinner back in my face like you’re prone to do,” he says grumpily. “Considering how you believe I always have ulterior motives.”

I let the insult fly, too enamored with the sound of his voice while watching him hammer inside of me on the computer screen. I squirm in my seat, feeling like a complete pervert at, what, just after eight in the morning? “I won’t throw it back in your face,” I swear to him, not sure if I can really keep that promise. “I guess it all depends if you say something stupid to me. Like you’re prone to do.”

Ha. We sound like little kids fighting on the playground.

Thankfully, he ignores my dig as well. “I’m leaving for San Francisco tomorrow, so how about tonight?”

“Tonight?” I hit pause again on the screen and turn it off, turning away from my computer so I won’t be distracted. “That’s kind of last minute.” Like I have any plans.

“I know. It’s either that or we wait until early next week, when I get back.”

I can’t wait that long. I want to see him, which I sort of hate. I absolutely shouldn’t want to do this. But my humming body more than wants to see him. “Fine. Tonight,” I say curtly, wincing when I hear my tone so I try and soften it. “That sounds . . . fun.”

He laughs. The jackass. “Yeah, you sound thrilled. Look I’m going to try and get Archer to accompany us. He can bring his fiancé.”

“Wait, what? You want Archer to go to dinner with us?” Okay, I hadn’t bargained on that. I’m going to have to be on my A-game if that happens. I might even have to present my proposition to him, and I’m not quite ready to discuss it yet. I still need to handle a few details.

“Yeah, Archer and his fiancé. Trust me, you’ll love her. And Archer, too. This isn’t some business dinner, Marina. Just pleasure.”

Just pleasure. Oh, now those are two words that take on different meaning when used in reference to Gage and me.

“Okay.” I swallow hard. “Let’s go out to dinner with Archer and his fiancé.” I close my eyes and push my desk chair into a circle. This is probably a really bad idea.

But I can’t back out of it now, right?

Gage

“YOU WANT TO go on a double date with your sister and me?” Archer chuckles, the sound irritating as it rumbles in my ear, and I pull the phone away, wishing I could tell him never mind and hang up.

I can’t though. Promised a certain someone it would happen, and now I have to come through on that promise. Plus, I want to see her again. If I’m lucky, maybe I’ll get her naked, in a bed, where I can take my time and map her entire body with my lips.

Yeah. I can’t get the thought of her out of my mind. The way she clung to me, the taste of her lips, the sounds she makes when she comes . . .

I tried calling her father first thing this morning. No dice. The man hates my guts or flat-out doesn’t give a shit. So I need to get in his daughter’s good graces and maybe eventually she’ll introduce the two of us. It could be a win-win for everyone.

Because just as much as I’m attracted to Marina, I’m also attracted to the fact that she’s a Molina. Scott Knight’s freaking daughter. I am so close to getting an in with him, I can almost taste it. Does this make me an asshole, wanting to get closer to her so I can get to her father?

Yes.

Damn it. That’s what I thought. And I hate that I feel this way, like I’m using her. Getting to know her, kissing her, having sex with her . . . it’s changed everything. The power has shifted between us.

Not that I ever really believed I held the power when it came to Marina and me. She’s been tough on me since the first moment we met.

And I like it.

“I definitely want to go out with you and Ivy tonight,” I finally agree, keeping it simple, waiting for the inevitable questions.

“Who’s the girl making you want a double date?”

There’s question one. “Don’t laugh at me,” I start, but he answers for me, his tone smug.

“Let me guess.” He pauses for dramatic effect. He’s having way too much fun with this and the conversation has only just begun. “Marina Knight.”

I don’t bother responding for a few seconds. I don’t need to. He knows he’s irritating the shit out of me. When his chuckle grows into full-out laughter, I’m ready to end the call.

“How did you make that happen?” he finally asks when he gets his laughter under control.

Question number two. “I convinced her I was a good guy and now she wants to date me.” Lies, all lies. Like I can tell him the truth.

I fucked her against a wall in her bakery. Hottest sex of my life. Dying to do it again.

“I call bullshit.”

Well hell, now I’m offended. “Why do you find that so hard to believe?”

“You badmouthed her family. The Molinas and the Knights, they’re all about the family. You breathe one bad word against them and they’re ready to take you down and tear you apart. Every single one of them acts that way,” Archer explains.

I remember her Aunt Gina calling me Rat Boy. That sounded rather . . . mobbish. Is that even a word? “You make them sound like the mob,” I mutter, glancing about my temporary office. I’m staying at a house I purchased a few months ago in St. Helena. It’s cute, small, and very old. Needs major renovations—we’re talking a total overhaul—and I’ve been getting bids on the job over the last few days. Its central location makes it the ideal place to stay while I’m here in Napa.

“Rumor has it they might be, though I doubt it,” Archer says, his tone serious.

“Mob ties, give me a break,” I mutter, more than ready to change the subject. “Listen, she wants to talk to you.” I’d fibbed a little when I called Marina. I’d left a message with Archer when I couldn’t get a hold of him and grew too anxious waiting for him so I broke down and called her anyway.

I knew I could get him to see her, but I haven’t confirmed anything yet. I just wanted to call her. Listen to her voice. Imagine the way she sounded last night when she whispered my name as I sunk particularly deep inside her tight, wet body—

“Talk to me about what?”

“Yeah, it’s about business. She won’t tell me what exactly, but Marina says she has a proposition for you and she kept meaning to call you but hasn’t yet,” I explain.

“Huh, wonder why she hasn’t called. I’ve talked to her a few times. Nothing extensive though.” He makes a noise; I can hear him shift in his chair, the unmistakable creak coming through loud and clear. “When do you want to go on this momentous double date?”

“Tonight? Maybe?” I wince, waiting for his answer.

“You gotta be kidding me. Tonight? You expect us to rearrange our schedules for you or what?” Archer sounds a little angry, mostly amused. His favorite thing to do is give me shit.

“I need to get in her good graces so she’ll introduce me to her father,” I explain. Well, that’s part of it. I also just want to see her again. Want to talk to her, argue with her a little, until she gets that angry little shine in her eyes, and I become so tempted I lean over and kiss her.