Page 17 of Degrees of Control

A week ago, Charlie thought there were an entire realm of things more likely to happen than James tracking her down at Ruby’s. For example, Elvis could be alive. Rain could fall up. The world could stop eating meat. All of that seemed far more likely than Sophia’s achingly handsome cousin coming after her and demanding a second shot at her pussy.

So when the object of her many frenzied vibrator sessions walked into the café, looking impossibly gorgeous in a slate gray suit, she put it down to coincidence. Perhaps he’d gotten lost on his way to a cigar store. But no, James had swaggered over with a grin that made her limbs liquefy, and it was all Charlie could do not to let her jaw hang.

From that point there was already a ninety percent chance she was going to fuck him. She thought she’d put on a pretty good show of acting like she might not, rejecting his pity date and refusing to play coy the way she had at Sophia’s party, but really, it was a done deal. James Hunter was the most charming, arrogant, downright gorgeous man she’d ever met andhe’dcome looking forher. Of course she was going to screw him.

The bus pulled up at the curb and Charlie tottered off. She gave the driver a big smile which she hoped distracted from her way too prominent nipples. It was the same stop she got off at when she went to visit Sophia. It was a nice area dotted with manicured hedges and tapas bars, nothing too fancy, but when you considered the graffiti-strewn dump she was renting, it was practically Paris. Charlie set a brisk pace for James’ place and within seconds her outfit was driving her crazy. The stockings created endless static under her business skirt and the backs of her Mary Jane pumps dug into her heels. She wasn’t dressed for power-walking the snobbier neighborhoods of Minneapolis. She wasn’t dressed for walking anywhere. If it was up to her she’d be wearing runners, leggings and two sports bras. But that wasn’t up to her.

“Wear stockings with heels and silk,” James had texted her the night before. “I liked the feel of you in silk.”

Unfortunately, the only silky thing she owned was the dress she wore to Sophia’s party, hence the borrowed outfit from Holly.The things we do for people we desperately want to shag.

Charlie didn’t have any experience in the world of masochism but she didn’t hesitate to do what he asked. If she was only going to dive once, she reasoned, she couldn’t be afraid to go deep.

All around her, night was falling and when she looked through the large apartment windows she could see people settling in for a comfortable Wednesday evening. There were lovers cooking dinner together, friends sharing wine. She felt like a spy prowling their streets. A secret agent infiltrating a privileged area with devious intentions. She counted the ornate numbers on the houses she passed until she was standing in front of 149—James’ apartment. Her heart lurched in her chest.

Walking had given her the illusion of control, but now that she was here, Charlie was more nervous than she could ever recall being. Gritting her teeth, she rang the bell and began to wait. Seconds passed and she began fidgeting with her skirt.

If the neighbors see you, start praying loudly. That way, they’ll think you’re a religious whacko and not a prostitute.

The doorknob rattled and with a jolt of horror, Charlie realized he was home, he was going to open the door, and she looked like a slutty secretary. Why in hell hadn’t she worn a bra? Before she could do anything, the door swung back to reveal James, shirtless and barefoot, wearing a pair of black jeans. Blues music filtered into the air and Charlie just stared and stared.

“Handsome” was entirely the wrong word to describe James. There was nothing soft about his looks, nothing approachable. From his switchblade cheekbones to his dark hazel eyes, everything said “fuck off, I’m too good for you,” and if his face wasn’t intimidating enough, he also had tattoos, an elaborate coat of arms on his right pectoral and an angry-looking stallion rearing up on his rib cage.

And you’re going to touch this man, you’re going to fuck him.

She felt her lips part. “Hey,” she croaked.

He stared at her, his gaze lingering on her silk-covered breasts, her surely flushed throat, like she was an object, a pretty thing being presented for his approval. A slow smirk spread across his face. “Come on in.”

She followed him down a short hallway. His apartment was exactly where one would expect a financially upstanding straight man to live; stylish in a bland, careless kind of way. There were no posters of naked women or visible BDSM equipment, but that was unsurprising. Whatever James was, ‘obvious’ didn’t factor into it.

He led her to a dimly-lit room she assumed was his lounge, judging by the cinema-sized flat screen. The music was playing from an expensive-looking stereo in the corner. James strode toward a mahogany cabinet in the corner. “Where’d you park?”

“I walked here.”

He frowned as though she’d confessed to riding the horse on his ribs. “Why?”

“Because of the environment.”

James stared at her, stony-faced.

“You know, carbon emissions, that kind of thing. Just doing my bit for the planet.” She gave him a small thumbs-up and inwardly cringed.Oh, Bell, what are you doing?

“You don’t have a car?” James said slowly.

“No, I can’t afford one. Plus, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but Americans drive on the wrong side of the road.”

The corners of James’ mouth loosened somewhat and he resumed fiddling with the contents of the cabinet. “I’d have given you a ride if I’d known.”

Ah, but then we’d have had to have passed the time making weird small talk and it wouldn’t have been as sexy.“It’s fine, I like walking.”

Scratching sounds came from somewhere past the kitchen. Charlie turned toward the noise. “What’s that?”

“Dog.”

Shealmostasked if he was lying and his previous sexual partner was being held captive in a laundry bag, but kept her mouth shut. Abduction jokes weren’t a great icebreaker. “So—um, you like dogs?”

No, Charlie, he keeps one around to help with the rent, you dickhead.

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