Page 32 of The Oath We Take

I’m certain he’s well hung. I’ve seen the outline in his jeans from time to time. Even thought I felt it pressed against me a time or two when we were younger. Another reason why I believe he has always seen me, even when he pretended he didn’t.

For a moment—okay, two or three—I wonder what it would look like if he took his erect cock in his hand and slowly palmed up and down it, lather and bubbles easing the way.

Would he lean back against the shower wall while he tugged on his balls?

And what would it be like to feel brave enough, welcome enough, to kneel down in front of him while he fed me the tip? How far would I let him thrust into me before I choked and coughed and spluttered, tear tracks running down my face?

I’ve day-dreamed a million times what it would feel like to look up at him and see him watching me in wonder.

I shake my head. “Get a grip, Em,” I mutter, stepping away from the door. There is no way I can go the whole evening, just the two of us, sitting here in silence. I’m going to lose my mind. Heck, I may have already lost it.

I got a list of rules as long as my arm from Dad.

Don’t go down to the bar.

Close the curtains so no one can see in the back.

Triple lock everything.

Listen to Atom.

That last one hurt. I don’t want to listen to the man who can’t decide what he wants. I flop down on the sofa and punch the pillow next to me. It’s a small thing but makes me feel so much better.

Every part of me wants to rebel, like a horse that doesn’t want to take the bit. I don’t want to be ridden.

Freud would likely have something to say about my analogies, given being ridden by the man I’m angry at would likely be the stuff dreams are made of.

I wasn’t supposed to work tonight. We open a little later, close a little earlier. But I also don’t like the idea that my staff members are working in possible danger, and I’m not. When I gave my statement to Sheriff Radcliffe, he told me he’ll keep a patrol car close by, but I don’t think it’s enough.

Which, I guess, means I need the protection my father is offering for peace of mind, though I also want to shove it so far up his ass, he won’t be able to shit for a week.

Then, I have an idea.

I hustle down to the bar while Atom showers and pick up the phone, seeing as I can’t find my cell phone.

“Quinn,” I say when she answers. Hers is the only number I can remember. “I need your help.”

There’s the usual clatter of the bakery in the background. “I’m up to my elbows in icing right now, but what do you need?”

“Any chance you guys can move book club to my place tonight?”

“Are you okay? Is this about what happened last night? Those men?”

Shit. I should have started with that. “Did they come to you too?”

“Yeah. Broke a window in the back to get in after everyone had gone home.”

At least I was with Rocco and wasn’t alone when they visited me. “Oh my God. Are you okay?”

There’s a pause. “I’ve had better days. It was terrifying. You?”

“Same.”

I hear Quinn take a deep breath. “Is that why you want us to come over. We don’t have to do book club. We can just all hang out and?—”

“No. Please. Do book club.”

“What?” Quinn asks. “Why? You don’t even like book club.”

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