Page 22 of Yield to Me

Chapter 12

A cool breeze floated down from the ceiling vents, grazing our perspiring limbs. Owen grinned at me.

“What?” I asked.

“You’re beautiful,” he said. Sprawled out on the couch covered in sweat, I certainly didn’t feel sexy. That kind of false compliment was the kind I could ignore under the aftershocks of an orgasm, but not after. I sat up and reached down for my clothes.

“Now you’re mocking me,” I mumbled.

He shook his head. “You look disheveled. Unarmed. Not your usual self,” he said. He studied me for a moment. “You’re guarded, but this is who you are beneath all of that.”

The comment stung, almost like he was insulting me, but I knew that he wasn’t. I didn’t let many people come close, especially not men. Sure, sex was fine, but when it came to opening up to anyone, whether it was emotionally spilling my deepest wishes or secrets, or physically, like how Owen had completely owned my body, I rarely, and I mean rarely, trusted others. My mother was the only person I truly trusted; after that, the next person I trusted was Clay, and he was still far behind my mother, to the point where he shouldn’t even have been in the race. So it made me wonder why I had let myself go with Owen like that, showed him a side of me that I hadn’t even known myself. I didn’t know that I could come like that, with such overwhelming need and heat and exhaustion, nor did I know why I had wanted to submit to Owen’s every whim. Maybe that was why I was always so quick to do the opposite of what anyone told me. Maybe this was the opposite of what I knew I should do.

“With how much my ass hurts right now,” I said, sitting up, “I think you owe me a meal. That’s the least you could do.” It was my quick attempt at normalcy, to pretend like I wasn’t the unarmed wreck that he seemed to think was beautiful. I was in it for the sex after all. And food. Food was always good.

He laughed. “A meal? You need post sex fuel?”

“I need Thai food like a monkey needs bananas.” He chuckled. “There’s a place on Pacific and Columbus,” I continued. I watched his reactions as he buttoned up his shirt. He wasn’t looking at me anymore; he was thinking, considering his options, concentrating way too much on those plastic buttons. I knew he didn’t want to take me out to eat. I knew it pushed his boundaries. Going out to eat after having sex was too close to romance, even in my own eyes. But I wondered how far I could push him, if he’d be willing to test his own limits when it came to me. After all, he had tested my limits minutes earlier. “Trust me on this one; it’s the best Thai food you’ll ever have. You won’t regret it.”

“I have work in the morning.”

“And I’ve got school and work. How are you not starving after exerting yourself like that?” I threw a throw pillow at him. “I. Am. Starving. I could eat an entire buffet. And all I did was take the beatings.”

A hint of emotion flashed through his eyes. It wasn’t easily definable and it was gone as quickly as it came. Maybe it was sadness; I couldn’t be sure. But brightness returned to his expression and he nodded. “All right. Late night Thai food. What’s the place called?”

Jade Orchid was a few blocks away from No Doze Café, close enough that Clay always offered to grab our take out. The inside was narrow; one side housed two to four person tables, and the other side of the seating was bar style, facing an open window looking into the kitchen. The dark red walls cast the dining area in a tinted glow. It reminded me of a darkened train cart.

“What are you ordering?” I asked, still looking at the menu.

“What do you usually get?”

“I always get the Panang and drunken noodles.”

“I took you more for a pad thai kind of person.”

I laughed. “What gives me away?”

He smiled, still looking down at the menu. “The way you hovered over the menu.”

“You weren’t quite as spot on as my order at No Doze.”

“I’m much better at guessing coffee choices.”

I snickered. “Is that your pick up trick for hipster babes at coffee shops? Guessing their orders and buying it for them?”

Owen shrugged. “I own The Roasted Bean. I was a customer for a long time before I made an offer.” He smiled to himself, then closed the menu, placing it on the end of the table.

This man amazed me. “You own nightclubs and dungeons. Why wouldn’t you own a coffee shop?” I said.

“The owner needed some help out,” he said. “And yes, there were some beautiful women who I entertained for a while.”

“Entertained?” I asked. “You mean dated?”

“I mean entertained.”

“So you showed them a good time, like a male escort?”

He laughed hard at this, then shook his head. “I saw them once or twice, made sure they enjoyed themselves, then moved on. It was always a simple arrangement.”

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