Losing Control Read online

  Even though it's already six on a Friday evening, I pick up my phone to call her. I'm banking on the fact that she either won't have plans or will drop them for me. We've only known each other a little over a week, but she's into me so I'm pretty sure she'd change her plans. She answers on the second ring and I'm just a little relieved. She better not say no. I won't like that at all.

  "Hello, Roma." The way she says my name almost kills me. I want to hear her scream it. But, I know I can't give her what she wants so I haven't caved. Yet.

  "Harper… What are you doing tonight?" I swear I'll lose it if she says no. I won't like that at all.

  "Hmm…" I hear the hesitation in her voice and I stop breathing. She can't say no.

  "I was planning on watching a documentary about the theory of the multiverse…Unless you'd like to do something else instead?" She wants it. And by it, I mean she wants me to get her naked. I can hear it in her voice. And as much as I want to, I know she deserves more. But, I just can't seem to keep myself away.

  "Let's go out and have a few drinks. I'll come pick you up in an hour." I make sure to tell her, not ask. I have to let her know I'm in charge and I'm making the plans. No one walks over Roma Raine.

  "Okay. That sounds wonderful. " I can hear the smile in her voice like I've just offered to buy her a Lamborghini to drive her down Sunset Boulevard while hand-feeding her chocolate strawberries. Fuck, she's into me. I already know it's going to be hard to remember that she deserves more.

  She opens the door after my second knock and I'll be damned if she hasn't got me standing here with my jaw on the ground. I text her and told her to dress causal, but of course her idea of casual and mine are very fucking different. She's wearing this low-cut black dress that shows off just enough tit and leg to turn me on. Which means everyone else at the bar is gonna hit on her and I'm gonna get insanely jealous. I hate being jealous. I think maybe she did it on purpose just to see me squirm. I don't like playing games. They never end well.

  I look down and I see heels taller than any of the ones she's worn before. I don't even know how she's standing in them right now. She's almost taller than me. Almost. I'm fucking glad she isn't. Being tall works to my advantage. I feel more in control when people have to look up at me. It's a good thing she's short or those shoes would definitely have taken that away from me. I wouldn't have liked that. I look up and I see her smiling that smile that she hasn't given to anyone but me since she's been here. Yeah, she knows what she's doing to me. And I can't tell if I like it or if I wanna fucking scream cause she's having this effect on me. An effect I can't control.

  "You ready to go?"

  She nods her head and comes on out. I smile behind her back as she locks the door. She may look fucking hot, but I still make her nervous as hell. This is gonna be one interesting night if she's too anxious to get one damn word out.

  I walk over to the passenger side of the car and open the door for her so she can get in. Do friends do this? I honestly don't know. I haven't had any friends besides my partners since all that stuff with him. I know I want her in a more than friendly kind of way. But I know I'm not good enough for her. I can't give her what she wants. If this is leading her on…I guess I feel kinda bad about it. But, not really. At least I'm in control this way. Since I'm leading her on, I can have her whenever I decide to have her. And I like having the option to have her whenever I please, even if I never do.

  I shut the door after she gets in and walk around to my side and hop in. She's sitting there twirling her ring around her finger like it's the only thing reminding her to breathe. I give her a smile and she gives me this anxious-as-hell smile back. I like having this effect on her. I fucking love it. Tonight's gonna be fun. I can already tell.

  …

  Fuck, was I wrong about Harper not being able to talk. Give her four glasses of cheap ass Cabernet and she's the next Chatty fucking Cathy. I've listened to everything from herpes research to the invention of lollipops. She's seriously better than any fucking dictionary I could ever buy. It's cute and I like it. And that's weird as hell because Roma Raine doesn't do 'cute' or anyone associated with it. Like I said, there's something about her.

  "The first of four orbital test flights occurred in 1981 leading to operational flights beginning in 1982, all launched from the…" I look up and catch her gaze as she trails off and I know what's fucking coming. Shit, I really hope I'm wrong. I don't want her to ask me about my scars. I don't like talking about it unless it's on my terms. And telling a drunken Harper Rose is not how I intend on spilling my guts. If I ever decide to tell her.

  "Do you know how beautiful you are, Roma?" Whoa. Wait. What? I really wasn't expecting that.

  "I, uh… you're drunk, Harper." I don't even know how to answer that question. I don't think I've ever heard anyone call me beautiful except my mother. But, I have to admit it's kind of nice when it's rolling off someone like Harper Rose's tongue.

  "I'm only on my fourth glass of wine. My inhibitions may be lowered, but I can assure you that I am not inebriated, Roma." She looks hurt that I told her she was drunk. Or maybe that I don't believe her. Who knows.

  I look down at my phone and it's already 11 o'clock. Holy shit, I don't ever remember being able to actually talk to a girl for more than 30 minutes before I ran off and fucked her. This is a first for me. And I like it. I give her a smile in place of an apology. I'm not one to ever say 'I'm sorry.' It's not how I am. I can see her face light up just a little bit. I'm ready to go before she gets brave and asks me anything else.

  "It's getting kind of late. Let's go."

  Once again, I make sure to tell her and not ask. I don't like asking. Questions often turn into some kind of fucking negotiation and I don't do negotiations. I'm the one in control and I make sure everyone knows. But before she can even say set down her glass, some guy comes waltzing over to our table like it's his god-given right to do so. I can already feel my temper flair. I know what's coming and I don't fucking like it. But I can't show my ass here, so I just sit back and watch. She glances over at me and I can only hope she doesn't see the death glare I'm giving him. I don't need her to know just how fucked up I am quite yet.

  He's attractive, I'll give him that much. But I would be able to see his cockiness from fucking Japan. I hope Harper can tell, but since she's stuck around with me I just don't know. Someone would either have to be crazy or naïve to put up with all my shit. He walks over to her side of the booth and stands in front of her. He gives her a smile with the straightest, whitest teeth I have ever seen on a man. Holy shit, she's not gonna be able to say no to him. If I wasn't so into women, I probably wouldn't be able to say no either. Holy fucking shit, I'm pissed. Who is he to think he can come over here and take her? No. I'm in control. Not him. Even though she isn't mine yet, I like to think that she will be. She better turn him down.

  "Hey, uh… I was wondering if I could buy you a drink?" Shit. I knew it was coming. His eyes are dancing because he's absolutely fucking sure she's going to say yes. Hell, I'm sure she's going to say yes. And I'm fucking pissed. She's not mine so I can't make her say no. I hate things that are out of my control.

  She gives him her 'oh that's so sweet, but no' smile and I swear to God I almost fucking pass out in the booth. "Well, I am here with someone else so I'll have to decline. Thank you for the offer, though. It was very kind."

  I almost start laughing out loud. He looks like someone just smacked him across the face and called him a pussy. He mumbles something about having to go find his brother and walks off. I look up and Harper's looking at me like she deserves a fucking award. I mean, she probably does actually for putting my fucked-up self over a guy she could've made picture perfect children with cause they both look so damn great.

  "It's time to go?" I nod my head and get out of my side. I make sure to help her out, too. The least she deserves is a hand getting out. Well, metaphorical hand. I'm still not gonna let her touch them. I may not be able to control everything, but that's th
e one thing I'm certain I can. I'm not ever going to give that up.

  …

  I help her out of the car and walk her up to the house because it feels like the polite thing to do, though I know I'm far from it. She gets out and almost trips over a nonexistent crack in the sidewalk. Not inebriated, my ass. I mean she's not drunk, drunk. But she's pretty tipsy, I can tell. She's trying her best not to stumble around and I'm afraid she's gonna plow face first into the ground. I can at least keep her from doing that so I wrap my arm around her waist and help her inside.

  I help her to the couch and sit her down so she can take off those 'fuck me' pumps I'm dying to literally fuck her in. But I'm not what she needs. She deserves more. And I can already tell I can't take what I need from her. She looks up at me and I feel her stare all the way down in my damn toes. Fuck, she wants me. And shit, I know I want her. But it won't be the way she thinks it will and I know I'll scare her the fuck away. I can't have that. I like control. I can't control things if she takes off running for the hills after she knows my level of crazy.

  She licks her lips and it's all I can do not to lean down and bite the hell out of them.

  "Kiss me, Roma." Hell no. No one tells me what to do. No one tells me to kiss them. I do the telling. I won't have this. It has to be my way or no way at all.

  "No." I say it harshly, maybe a little too harsh. Kind of like I'm appalled that she wants to. But I'm far from appalled. Like I said, I just have to have it my way or no way at all.

  She looks down from my face to the floor and I swear if she cries I'll lose my shit. I hate when girls cry unless I want them to cry. She better not cry. I lift her face back up with my finger under her chin. Her eyes are watering but she's doing an Oscar-worthy job of not letting any fall. She searches my face, trying to find a sign of something. Anything. But I know I'm too good to give anything away unless I want to. I can't let everyone who dares to look at me know just how sick and twisted I am.

  "You deserve more than anything I can give you, Harper. Maybe I'll let you know why one day. Maybe not." She goes to talk but I make sure to cut her off. Like I said, I'm in control and I don't do negotiations. "Maybe I'll take you up on that offer one day. Maybe I won't. But if I ever do… it'll be up to me, understand?''

  I try to make my voice soft but stern at the same time. She needs to know I'm not mad, but I mean it when I say it has to be up to me. I guess I come across pretty clear because she nods her head and gives me a smile. Not the 'only for you, Roma' smile that I fucking love to see, but a smile that shows she gets it. Well, gets what I'm saying. Not why I'm saying it.

  I reach down and squeeze her shoulder. I don't do hugs or superfluous shows of endearment. Not since him. And I doubt that'll ever change. She reaches up to put her hand on mine but I jerk it away before she can. I see the flash of hurt in her eyes, but I don't even fucking care. No one touches my hands. Not even Harper Rose, the first woman I have ever decided deserved more than what I can give. I see the hurt flash in her eyes, but she quickly covers it up.

  "Goodnight, Roma."

  "G'night."

  I turn to walk out the door and don't look back. I can't let her know the effect she's having on me. It scares the hell out of me. I have to wholly control everyone that's ever been mine. And I've never even cared about any of those. They were as disposable as an old BIC razor. I can't even imagine what I'll do if I ever decide to take Harper up on her offer. I can already tell she's not disposable. I can already tell that I would actually care about her. I hate not being able to keep my own damn emotions in check. Once again, I'm back to letting someone else control the way I feel. But this time I can't tell if I hate it or if I fucking love it. Like I said, there's something about that woman.

  Chapter 3

  It's been a week since Harper told me to kiss her and I ran away like the pussy that I am when it comes to giving up my control. Harper's had the decency not to bring it up, so we just keep having eye-sex like there's no fucking tomorrow. God, I want her. I really, really do. I've never wanted anyone as much as I do her, before or after He came along and royally fucked me up. If she had come before Him, I would've said yes when she asked me to kiss her. I would've been able to say yes because I would've been able to give her everything she deserves. Hell, I'd fucking make sure she knew how fucking perfect she was every minute of every fucking day. But not now. No. I can't bring myself to fall head over heels. And I know that I'm tempted to do just that with her. But, I can't lose control like that. I can't. It'd be too much for me to handle.

  I get out of my car and start walking to the edge of the water where Harper's getting ready to put on a pair of yellow waders. The other Lieu never would’ve left his cushy office for so much as a massacre, but Harper—she’s out here with us every time she thinks something like sexual assault or domestic violence occurred. She really cares and doesn’t mind letting it show. Me, on the other hand—I like to pretend I don’t give a fuck. Maybe it makes me look like an asshole. I don’t really care. Not when it keeps all that shit I could feel at bay. I can dissociate this way. Solve more crimes this way. Cry less this way. It’s easy as hell to be like this. I don’t know if I’ll ever change.

  I imagine how much she's gonna look like a giant banana in those things and laugh to myself as I realize she's still going make them look sexier than anything I own. She insists on walking out four or five feet into the water to get to our floater. Something about preserving the most evidence that way. Fuck if I know. It makes a shit ton more sense to have our guys bring the body in, but oh well. She's just weird like that. And at least I'm here to watch and make sure she's alright. When I finally get over to her she looks up and me and gives me one of those damn megawatt smiles that she reserves only for me. It lights up her eyes to where they're damn near glowing and I can even see the faintest of lines around her mouth.

  "Hello, Roma." I give her a smile that I couldn't even hide if I wanted to.

  "Hey, Harp. Still not gonna let them bring the body in first?" She lets out a giggle that I'd be a damn fool to not wanna record it so I could listen to it forever.

  "No, I'm still going out to the body. They’ve already cleared the area. I just prefer to be gentler bringing them in so all sexual assault evidence remains intact—" She places her hand on my shoulder to steady herself as she steps into the waders and I involuntarily tense up like a damn plank. She stops talking as she realizes what she's done and looks me in the eye for a sign that she should move her hand. I'd be the biggest fucking jerk on the planet if I wouldn't help her into these damn things. I swear they gave her the pair they ordered for Jerry—a guy well over six foot and 350 pounds.

  I give her a nod and a smile that wouldn't even fool a blind person. She finishes stepping in them before removing her hand. She stands there looking at me like she has a million things she wants to ask me. Hell, she has to have at least that many since I act the way I do.

  I look away from her out to the water and start twirling a curl of my hair.

  "That's a sign of sexual frustration."

  I start laughing and turn back around to face her. She's smirking like the fucking cat that ate the canary. She knows what she does to me. I look her straight in the eye and I guess I look damn near predatory, 'cause her eyes dilate and almost turn black. I'd respond with some sarcastic ass comeback to deflect my obvious sexual desire, but there's no use. She can see right through it.

  "We should talk. My place at seven." If I'm gonna spill my guts—if only a little bit—I at least want to have control over where I do it at. And I know I'll at least be more comfortable doing it in my own shitty apartment. I look back over to her and she gives me a smile and nods.

  "Seven it is."

  …

  My doorbell rings at exactly seven o'clock. I vaguely wonder if she stood outside and waited for the exact time I told her to come as I walk to the door. She seems like the type that would do that. I open the door and there she stands in a pair of tight as hell yoga pants an
d a baggy sweatshirt. To say I'm shocked would be the biggest fucking understatement of my life. A pang of jealousy hits me as I wonder if that sweatshirt belongs to one of her exes. Harper Rose doesn't seem like the type to own anything that slouchy. Even if it's still sexy as hell. I shake it off. That doesn't matter. Even I'm not fucked up enough to believe I could control someone's past. I'm pretty sure she wore it to make me feel more at ease. I'm actually really fucking grateful because it actually does, if only a little. Although, I'm not gonna say that out loud.

  "Come in." I give her a smile and step far enough aside so she doesn't have to brush against me as she walks in. I shut the door and walk over to the counter where I have a bottle of wine. I know that's what she likes so that's what I bought. The smile she gives me is worth the 95 dollars it set me back. I pour her a glass and grab a beer for myself. I lead her over to the couch and we both sit down. I'm close enough to feel the heat rolling off her body, but far enough away that we aren't touching.

  The TV is on, but somehow the silence is agonizing. I know she's not going to say anything first because, hell, she's Harper fucking Rose and I'm pretty sure she's telepathic sometimes. She knows I need to have this conversation my way, on my terms. I take a sip of my beer to wet my throat before I finally get up the courage to speak. It isn't every day that I have this conversation. Shit, the only time I've ever had to have this conversation was when I had to explain what He did to me so I could be cleared for work. This isn't something I take lightly. And I sure as hell can't believe I'm telling someone I've known for less than a month.

  Actually…that's not even how I'm gonna go about it. I hate asking other people questions because it ends up in some huge ass debate, but I have no problem with being asked questions. I can reveal as little or as much as I want. I want to turn my whole body on the couch to face her, but I feel like that'd be too vulnerable. I don't do vulnerable. Not since Him. I turn my face to her and she automatically looks back at me. Like she could feel the damn particles in the air change when I started to move my head. I look in her eyes and I'm not quite sure what I see. I think mainly it's curiosity, but I know it's a whole lot more too.