Chapter 6

CHAPTER SIX

I didn't know what to expect when Smith helped me to my feet. Him gently righting the cups of my bra wasn't it. Taking that a step further, Smith softly if not reverently kissing the top swell of each breast before he pulled my tank top back into place would've been the very last thing I would've guessed he'd do.

Yet, that's exactly what happened.

Which left me in a dazed state of confusion.

"You good?" Smith's rough voice jolted my muddled mind.

"Dandy, you?" I used my best jaunty, ‘I'm unaffected' voice hoping to keep the mood light.

Smith totally caught on and he let me know it with a small grin that hit nowhere near his eyes. But other than that, he didn't call me out.

"Yeah, baby, just dandy."

With a wink he pulled out his phone, but his gaze cut to the corner of the room.

"That off?"

I looked in the direction he tipped his head and saw one of my cameras on a tripod.

"Yes. I turned it off after Phillip was done."

"Shame. Bet the replay would've been just as hot."

He was totally right, it would've been.

"There's always next time," I teased.

Smith's body went strangely tight as he turned his head to take me in.

"Seriously?"

With a shrug I explained, "Sure. As long as we watch it together and erase it after."

A devilish grin pulled at his lips and I wondered what I'd gotten myself into. I wasn't kidding, I had no problem recording us together using a camera—not a cellphone where a video could be saved to the cloud. Watching it would be hot. But I wasn't stupid enough to keep it or allow him to keep it. A memory card could be erased and recorded over.

"We're doing that, too."

Apparently he wasn't getting it.

"Just in case I didn't make myself clear, I'll come right out and tell you—I have zero hang ups about sex. If it feels good, if it turns me on, turns you on, I'm game. Alternatively if I don't like it or if I need you to back off and slow down I'll tell you. I like sex, Smith. I like rough and dirty just as much as I like taking my time. I like being used when respect and trust has been established. And so you're clear on that, too, no way would've I gotten to my knees if I didn't know you'd respect what I was giving you. And I wasn't wrong, you did, and I got off knowing you were watching me."

When he didn't say anything or look at me like I was a floozy I went on.

"The boundaries are clear for both of us. Sex, fun, good times, but this." I motioned between us. "Only works with complete honesty. So here's mine—I'll fuck you stupid and I won't apologize for taking what I want along the way. I'll beg for more and won't feel a moment of shame. I'll do anything you ask me to do but I'll make you work for the privilege of my compliance. And the only demand I'll make is that you never lie to me. Not even a small, white lie you think is for my own good or to save me from hurt. I am not weak. I'm not sensitive. I'm a woman who knows exactly what she wants and doesn't want. And when this is over, we'll both walk away with fond memories and the knowledge we gave each other good times and lots of orgasms."

Now he was looking at me funny—not funny, ha-ha , but funny like I was a creature from a yet to be discovered planet where the women were bred to be the alphas.

Not surprising. I was a lot. Actually I was too much for the population at large. But I was who I was. I was raised by a mom who encouraged me to always be myself and a dad who protected me, which allowed me to be as free as I wanted to be.

I wasn't sure my parents intended on the free spirit refrain they spouted to bleed into my sex life yet here we were.

"How's this for honesty, Aria? I'll take your sex, fun, and good times and up the ante. While we're doing this, you're mine. Totally and completely. I don't share. Not your smartass mouth, not your flirty banter, and definitely not your body."

He paused to lean in close so all I could see were eyes blazing with barely leashed fire. "I'll own every inch of you, baby. So here's your brutal honesty—when this is done, you won't walk away with fond memories, you'll leave with the understanding I'm a complete asshole. We had what we had, it was good. And I didn't lie, baby, best fucking head I've ever had and I want more of that. But you can still end this. Here and now and keep the goodness we shared."

Something I'd learned the hard way—the real assholes of the world didn't warn you they were assholes. They lied and pretended to be good guys until they got what they wanted. Then and only then did they let their asshole shine bright.

I didn't get a chance to share this before Smith continued.

"You don't stop this now and give me more, I'll take it and use you up. I'll do it with the knowledge I'm broken and have no business touching you. Yet, that won't stop me. All you want is respect and honesty. But Aria, I want everything. Something else I have no business demanding but I will. I want you addicted to my dick, my touch, my mouth. I'll work hard to make you desperate for it. So tread cautiously, honey, and only come to me with your eyes wide open and your heart closed up tight."

Well, the last was easy. But the part about making me desperate for him gave me pause because he already had me there. After a tiny, tiny taste I wanted more and that need was borderline obsessive.

However, I still told him, "My eyes are wide open and my heart is locked down."

Smith studied me for a moment then finally nodded.

"Good, baby. Now get to work so we can get out of here and stop by the store on our way to your place."

"The store?"

"You got capers in your pantry?"

I couldn't stop my surprised jolt at his bizarre question.

"Um, no."

"Right, then we're stopping at the store and picking up the rest of what I need to make you my chicken piccata."

Was he for real?

"So, what you're saying is, you're gonna feed me before you fuck me."

The corner of Smith's lips tilted up and I had his playful, teasing side back.

"Yeah, Aria, I'm gonna make sure you got enough energy to keep up with me."

Whatever.

He could call himself an asshole all he wanted. But again a true asshole didn't make their fuck-buddy chicken piccata. At most they grilled burgers or threw something frozen in the oven, more than likely they just called in a takeout order.

"Just so you know, I'm judgy and I'll be grading your efforts."

"The chicken or the fucking?"

"Both."

"One will be passable, the other will leave you unable to walk tomorrow."

I barely refrained from doing a victory dance in the living room of my flip.

"You sure do talk a big game," I noted.

Smith looked at his phone and smiled.

"Get to work, Aria."

This time when he issued his demand I walked to the front door with a pep in my step.

Ten minutes later I had the new flood light out of the box and was setting up the ladder when Smith came out the front door with a frown.

What now?

"Change of plans," he announced and did it in a way that made my heart sink. "Kira called. Whoever was driving the Tesla had a privacy cover over their tag."

"One of those plastic things that block the toll cameras?" I asked.

"Yeah. She doesn't have a tag number but she verified it was the same Tesla outside the hotel, the gas station, and the mall."

I didn't like that I was right but I already knew I was.

"What does that mean?"

"It means we got jack on the Tesla. Cooper is going over the comments on your channel, flagging anything he feels is off. Since Kira didn't get a hit on the Tesla she's looking into George Calvin and Brittney Peterson. So far she hasn't found anything on either of them."

That sounded good so I didn't understand what plans we were changing and why.

"That's good, right?"

"People who do fucked-up shit tend to bury the fucked-up shit they do. On the surface Brittney looks like your typical stay-at-home mom who spends way too much money on Amazon buying face lotions as potions."

"Are you really dissing a woman's commitment to taking care of her appearance?"

His smirk was infuriating, made more so by his accompanying comment. "Aria, baby, if that shit worked there'd be no need for plastic surgeons. Cosmetic companies perpetuate insecurity. One day women all around the world will wake up and realize their beauty doesn't come from a bottle or a lotion. Natural is way more attractive."

It was hard to stay irritated when I liked his way of thinking. I was also happy to hear him say that because I wasn't a make-up wearer. Not normally, anyway. I liked to trick myself out on special occasions but I was more of an Ivory-soap-to-wash-my-face-in-the-shower girl, and moisturized when I remembered or wasn't in a rush to get out the door to start my day.

"And George? What does he spend his money on?" I asked.

"Toys."

When Smith didn't go on I raised a brow to prompt an explanation. He read my expression and elaborated.

"He makes six figures, has no wife, no kids, but he does have a sport bike, a Jag, a cabin cruiser that's not top of the line but still set him back a whack. He also goes out to eat a lot and according to his credit card statement, he doesn't do that alone unless he's eating three-hundred dollar meals on the regular."

Three hundred dollar meals? Holy hell. I made good money and had a lot of it in the bank and I would never regularly spend three hundred dollars on a meal.

"That's insanity."

It must be noted, Smith did not comment on George's wasteful spending habits.

"Kira's working on digging deeper."

"Okay, so what plans have changed?"

"After we hit the store we're going to your house so you can pack a bag, then we're going to my house."

Not that I minded the change in plans. I didn't even mind he didn't give me the option of spending the night at his, I just didn't understand.

"Why?"

Smith stared at me for a few beats, then he slowly said, "Someone's following you."

That I minded—the way he slowly spoke and enunciated his words like I was dim.

"We already knew that," I said, returning his tone.

"You left to go to Philly from your house, Aria."

It took a moment for what he said to register.

"I watched your videos and checked your social media. You didn't say you were going to Philly. You didn't post any pictures while you were there. You didn't check in and post your location."

Of course I didn't. I wasn't stupid. My social media was only used to promote my YouTube channel. I never shared anything personal. And all of my friends knew never to tag me in photos.

"That means whoever followed you home, followed you there, and they did that by knowing where you live."

Well fuck .

"Did you check Lisa's?—"

"Kira ran you and she came up with nothing from the wedding or the night before. Not a single picture of you being there exists on the internet."

That was bad news. I kind of wished one of my friends screwed up and tagged or mentioned me in a celebration post.

"So now I'm staying with you?"

Smith stiffened and suddenly looked uncomfortable.

"That or a safehouse."

I didn't want to stay in a safehouse but Smith's impression of a statue gave me pause.

"Which do you prefer?"

"My house."

I let go of the breath I was holding but was more confused.

"You sure? You look…" I didn't know what he looked like. Constipated maybe. Not that I'd tell him that.

"How do I look?" he challenged.

"Like you're not sure you want me staying with you."

He shook his head.

"I left you alone in your house last night, knowing someone had followed you from the hotel."

I didn't understand the repugnance I heard. It wasn't like he knew I was in imminent danger and left me to it. Or worse, didn't care and went home to watch some TV.

"I don't?—"

"I left you alone, Aria," he cut in. "I left because I wanted to stay. I left so what happened ten minutes ago wouldn't happen. I left you unprotected."

I took him in, this time carefully doing my best to figure out if this was an over-the-top protective guy thing or if there was something else behind his self-condemnation.

"I don't understand where this is coming from so I'll tread carefully here, but you didn't leave me unprotected. I'm more than capable of protecting myself. I'm not some helpless female. I don't need you or anyone babysitting me. I don't need a safehouse or to stay with you. Saying that, I'm not going to argue if you feel you need to do something, but don't mistake my willful compliance with necessity or weakness."

The change in Smith was minute, yet I still caught it along with the tiny tic in his jaw.

"So, you're good with the change of plans?" he abruptly asked.

Sensing he wasn't going to address anything I said, I answered, "Sure. But I'm following you to your house. I have to be back here tomorrow at six for a delivery."

"No need. I'll be here with you."

Oh boy, the needle was approaching the red zone of my patience.

"Really, Smith, you don't need to hang around and watch me work all day."

"Checked the postage on the letters you gave me. You said every two weeks you get a letter. Times up on that and I want to be here when the mailman gets here."

Whatever .

There was no use arguing. He was going to do what he wanted to do no matter what I had to say.

"Fine," I snapped. "But you need to stay out of my way. And I'm filming tomorrow's work, which means you can't be upstairs."

He ignored me and glanced down at the box.

"You good putting this up by yourself?"

I fought the urge to roll my eyes.

"Yes, Smith," was my verbal response. In my head I included, ‘little ol' me can handle a floodlight.'

His lips twitched and it was unfortunate he could look hot when I was annoyed with him.

"Smart ass," he mumbled.

"I didn't say anything."

"You didn't have to, baby, it's written all over your face."

I didn't argue against that, either, since I figured he wasn't wrong. I wasn't someone who attempted meaningless things like hiding what I was thinking or feeling.

When he didn't move to leave me to get back to work, I asked, "Are you planning on watching me or are you going to let me get this floodlight up so I can get on with my day. I'd like to get out of here before bridge traffic starts. Sitting on the bridge for an hour would delay chicken piccata and orgasms."

Smith's mood shifted back to his happy-go-lucky-flirty demeanor.

"I'll let you get back to it."

Shamelessly I watched him walk away, with my gaze glued to his superior ass. It wasn't until he'd disappeared into the house that I went back to the floodlight. Thankfully he wasn't around to see me fumble two screws, also thankfully he wasn't there to see my hand shaking when I screwed in the light.

The problem was I didn't know if I was vibrating with excitement at the thought of spending the night with Smith or if I was scared someone had followed me to Philly and they'd done that from my home. Further from that, I was creeped out someone had probably been watching me while I was in the city and I hadn't known. I was always careful. I checked my surroundings. I didn't use my phone while I was walking in public. I paid attention to people. But I wasn't a trained CIA officer, I didn't know how to spot a tail—unless of course it was a red Tesla which was easy to spot because there were five million white ones on the road but I'd only ever seen a few red ones. But a person following me on foot, I'd probably miss.

Yep.

I was totally creeped out.