Trust: Not Until You, Part 4

Trust: Not Until You, Part 4 Roni Loren Part 4 of 8 of an intensely erotic serial in the Loving on the Edge series. Perfect for fans of Fifty Shades of Grey.Naive Cela had a glimpse into the world of BDSM. But, as Roni Loren’s compelling Not Until You series continues, will Cela really take the plunge and leave her vanilla life behind?Despite desperately wanting to satisfy her curiosity, Foster is not about to introduce Cela to his true dominant side. For one thing, she’s far too innocent to get involved in that kind of scene; for another, he’s already becoming way more interested in her than makes him comfortable. But when he comes home after a frustrating day and finds Cela hanging out with Pike, all of Foster’s possessive urges rise to the surface.Cela is left breathless and shaken after getting a glimpse of Foster’s dominance unleashed. Maybe he was right, and she isn’t ready for something so intense. But when she can’t get their nights together out of her mind, she comes up with a daring plan to see just how much they’re both willing to risk… NOT UNTIL YOU Part IV NOT UNTIL YOU TRUST Roni Loren Contents Cover (#u12e4b0d8-c6d8-57ae-a51a-ed17a74ea1e9) Title Page (#uee58809a-af1e-5d60-857a-6eb007b95565) Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Chapter 18 Chapter 19 Chapter 20 Buy Not Until You Beg Special Excerpt from Caught Up In You About the Author Also by Roni Loren Copyright About the Publisher Chapter 16 (#ud1b42da2-c75b-587b-bf64-2a1ccdce41f3) My penmanship was appalling as I scrawled down information on the paper in front of me. Since Foster had walked out of my apartment last weekend, I couldn’t seem to do anything without a flourish of frustration. I dotted an i with pointed vigor and slashed through a t. “Well, aren’t you all sweetness and roses today,” Bailey said, turning from her computer to eyeball me. “What did that intake form do to you?” “It required me to fill it out. All those tiny little boxes.” She lifted a brow. “Who are you and what have you done with my Cela, the paperwork Nazi?” I sighed and set down my pen. “Sorry, long week.” Bailey frowned. “You should go home and open that tequila I bought you.” Heh. The tequila. Bailey had no idea that her gift had actually been the match that set my previously predictable life on fire. “I don’t have any left.” “Wait, what?” Bailey swiveled in her chair, her streaked blond hair whipping behind her as she whirled to face me. “Dude, there’s no way you drank all of that already.” “I didn’t. I shared it.” Bailey huffed. “So you finally decide to let loose, and you didn’t invite me to the party? Lame.” I leaned back in my chair and rubbed a hand over my forehead, Bailey’s accusatory tone blending with the sound of barking dogs in the kennels in the back. “It wasn’t a party. Just a … date.” “Shut. The. Eff. Up.” Bailey’s chair squeaked, and without looking I knew she’d pitched forward—on the prowl. “You had a date and didn’t tell me? Oh my God, that’s why you’ve been so all over the place for the last couple of weeks. You met a guy!” I could hear the squee in her voice and had no doubt she was about to morph into some cheerleader version of herself. If I didn’t head it off at the pass, it was going to quickly disintegrate into hand grabbing and bouncing with glee as she begged for details. Bailey was only two years younger than me and was the closest thing to a best friend I’d found since moving here, but sometimes her enthusiasm made me want to duck and cover. I held my hands out. “Calm it down, chica. Met is the operative word here. Past tense.” Her bright smile instantly dimmed. “Oh, no. What ha—” But before Bailey could play Oprah to my Gayle, Dr. Pelham strode in from the back, already rambling off information she needed Bailey to pull up on the computer. Bailey spun around, instantly tapping away at the keyboard, her game face on. I smiled a greeting at our boss as she stepped behind us to the wall of file cabinets, and went back to finishing the intake form I was supposed to be doing. “I have a surgery scheduled first thing tomorrow morning for that Yorkie that came in on Monday,” Dr. Pelham said in my direction as she flipped through the folders in the file cabinet nearest me. “Poor thing’s got a pretty aggressive tumor, but I think we may have caught it early enough. I’m going to use the new laser. You should assist.” I looked up from my mess of an intake form, my heart doing a little leap and spin. “Really? That’d be great. I haven’t seen this new equipment in action yet.” Dr. Pelham smiled, pushing her reading glasses onto her head, making her salt and pepper bangs stick up every which way. “Yes, Doctor Medina. I’m hoping if I tempt you with our fancy new gadgets, you won’t leave us at the end of the month. Have you given my offer any more thought?” I pressed my lips together, the offer tempting me to no end every time she brought it up. The clinic couldn’t pay as much as I’d make in my dad’s practice, but since it was funded by the university it meant the vets had access to the latest technology and experimental treatments. And Dr. Pelham knew more about veterinary oncology than anyone in the state. Working under her would give me experience I couldn’t get anywhere else. But I didn’t need to specialize in oncology. When I’d mentioned it to my father, he’d dismissed it with a sniff. You don’t need to waste time specializing, Marcela, he’d said with that exasperated tone. I need a Jill-of-all-trades for the clinic. You’ll learn what you need to know down here. I tried not to let my face belie how torn I was. I knew I couldn’t accept the position. My father was counting on my picking up the slack in his practice. But anytime Dr. Pelham brought up the job, I couldn’t bring myself to give a firm no. “I’m giving everything a lot of thought.” Her smile climbed up to her eyes. “Fantastic. I’m interviewing a few candidates next week, though, so think quickly.” “I will, thank you. I promise I’ll let you know by then,” I said, misery making my stomach burn. Why was everything that seemed so simple a few weeks ago starting to feel like a maze filled with ticking grenades and no right decisions? I waited until Dr. Pelham disappeared back into the clinic before I groaned and lowered my head to tap it against the desk. “I’m having a midlife crisis.” “I think it’s called a quarter-life crisis,” Bailey offered brightly, still tapping away at her computer. “Yes. That. Maybe I do need more tequila.” “Be careful what you wish for, doc.” My head snapped up so fast I almost flipped backward in the well-oiled office chair. I grabbed for the edge of the desk with a curse. Amused green-gold eyes stared down at me. “Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you.” I put my hand to my chest, his sudden appearance sending my heartbeat into staccato mode. “Pike? What are you doing here?” “Well, the sign does say open to the public,” he said with a good-natured smirk. “Right.” Seeing Pike standing in the waiting area of my job had my worlds banging together—the crazy mixing with the mundane. It seemed a dangerous mix, like coming face-to-face with yourself in time travel. That shit never ended well. In my peripheral vision, I could see Bailey turning forward to see our new guest. Pike seemed to notice her for the first time and sent her a tip of an imaginary hat before turning back to me. “So, I’m here because I’m thinking you were right.” “I was right?” I shook my head, trying to clear it. “About …” He grinned. “That I should get a dog.” The gears in my head ground to a halt. “Wait, you’re here for a dog?” “Um, excuse me,” Bailey interrupted as she rolled her chair closer to me. I turned to find her staring up at Pike with stars in her eyes. “You said your name is Pike?” He glanced her way. “It is.” Bailey’s hands gripped the arms of her chair. “Are you, like, the Pike? From Darkfall?” Pike leaned his forearms on the counter and graced Bailey with a smile so panty melting it should be outlawed. “I am.” Bailey’s gasp was audible. She sent me a look with a capital L, apparently registering that Pike and I already knew each other. Then her mouth dropped open. Her eyes said Him? He’s the guy?! I cleared my throat and stood before my dear friend had an aneurism. “That’s great, Pike. We’ve definitely got a lot of dogs looking for homes here. Why don’t we go in the back, and I can walk you through the kennels so we can get an idea what you’re looking for?” “Sounds good, doc.” His gaze slid away from Bailey and alighted on me—all good humor and mischief. No doubt he was fully enjoying Bailey’s bedazzled reaction. Like a vampire who fed on blood, he fed on making girls go giddy and tongue-tied. “Lead the way.” “Come on.” I left a gaping Bailey behind us and stepped around the front counter to lead Pike toward a door opposite from the one Dr. Pelham had gone through. As soon I pushed through, the cacophonous chorus and the telltale scent of doggy-ness greeted us, instantly soothing me. This was my territory and Pike was a friend, no need to freak out just because we’d seen each other naked. “So you know Bailey is now texting everyone she’s ever met telling her she just met you, right? And probably that she’s going to marry you and have your rockstar babies.” Pike laughed. “Yeah, I got that.” We walked down the hallway toward the main adoption area. “Just another day at the office for ya, huh? Girls falling at your feet.” He lifted an eyebrow and tucked his hands into the back pockets of his jeans. “You know, doc, I’d make a cat sound right now and poke at you about being jealous. But you’ve been at my feet, and I know you aren’t all that interested in returning there.” I choked on my gasp and peered over my shoulder at the empty hallway. “Pike.” “Don’t worry, doc. No one’s in here with us. I was just trying to get the potential awkwardness out of the way.” We reached the end of the corridor, and I pressed my back to the door we were about to go through to face him. “I’m sorry, I just don’t know how to do this. I’ve never been in this kind of situation before.” He smiled, good-natured as always. “Not that complicated. We fooled around. We both enjoyed it. Thoroughly, I might add. But you’ve got the hots for my best friend.” “I—” “Plus, if I even thought about making another move on you, Foster would stab me with one of my own drumsticks.” I blinked, the words not computing for a moment, then I turned back toward the door to yank it open. “Yeah, well, Foster told me good-bye.” Pike sighed and laid an arm across my shoulders as we both stepped into the adoption area together. “He had to, gorgeous. Doesn’t mean he wanted to.” I couldn’t even respond to that. At the mention of Foster, everything crappy about my day came rushing back, and my mood plummeted. I slipped out from beneath Pike’s arm as soon as we got to the first row of kennels. The smell of his cologne was only reminding me of that first night with the two of them. Something I definitely did not need to think about right now. I switched into professional mode, my spiel robotic. “These first two rows have your smaller dogs—terriers, toy breeds, et cetera. Over in the back to the right are the bigger dogs. There are a number of purebreds, but the majority of what you’ll see are mixed breeds. If you prefer a puppy, we have a litter of Lab/shepherd mix that will be ready to adopt out in about a week.” Pike crossed his arms over his chest and frowned. “No puppies. Those are the easiest to adopt out, aren’t they?” I shrugged. “Families can’t resist them. Cute. Clean slate with no previous trauma to worry about.” “And which ones are hardest to adopt?” I cocked my head toward the back-left corner. “Row five. Those are the dogs that have been here longer than any others or have been returned after an unsuccessful adoption.” He headed that way without another word. I had to hurry to catch up and keep pace with his purposeful stride. I heard myself warning him that these dogs were great but had issues and maybe were better for experienced dog owners, but I don’t think Pike even heard me. After only a few minutes of scanning the kennels and coaxing the occupants within, he zeroed in on Monty, a brown-and-black dachshund/schnauzer mix that had been cussed at by more staff than any other pet in there. Pike leaned forward to slip his finger inside the gated front, but Monty backed into the corner, barking like he was on fire. “What’s this guy’s story?” “Monty’s been returned twice. Once for snapping at a little girl and another for being resistant to any kind of training.” I sidled up next to Pike and frowned down at the deceptively cute occupant. Monty had the body of a dachshund, but longer legs, and the face and wiry hair of a schnauzer. But his cuteness had been his downfall. All the young families were drawn to him, but he was easily overwhelmed by the chaos of children. “He was a rescue dog. We suspect the original owner dealt with Monty’s feistiness by abusing him or outright neglecting him. He came in with a broken rib, internal bleeding, and barely any meat on his bones.” “Fuck,” Pike said, moving his hand away but keeping his focus on Monty. “And been brought back twice. No wonder he’s snarling at me. I’d have trust issues, too.” “He’s a bit of a project,” I agreed. “I want him,” Pike declared, turning to me. “Pike, I don’t know, this isn’t exactly a job for an inexperienced owner. Maybe you …” “Doc, this dog has issues with authority, is still feisty even after being treated like shit early in his life, and has spiky hair. Monty is made for me.” The corner of my mouth lifted. “Made for you?” He shrugged. “Let’s just say I can relate to what he’s been through.” My heart squeezed, his quiet tone saying more than he probably realized. I found myself wondering what was behind those seemingly carefree smiles, who Pike was beneath the I’m-a-sexy-badass-drummer persona. “Don’t you want to go into one of the private rooms and visit with him to make sure this is the one you want? I’d hate to see him get brought back again.” “No chance that will happen, doc. I won’t give up on him.” The resolute look on his face was about as serious as I’d ever seen him. I nodded and turned back toward the door. “Okay, then. Let’s go fill out some paperwork. And you’ll need a list of supplies. You’ll have to buy some things today and …” “What time do you get off?” I stopped and looked back at him. “About half an hour.” The Pike grin returned. “Good. Because you’re coming with me. I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing or what I need to buy. I need professional guidance.” “Pike, I—” “I’ll order Chinese. My treat. I already know you like lo mein, and Foster’s out of town tonight so no worries there. We can just hang out while you help me get Monty settled in.” I blew out a breath, the offer tempting. The thought of spending another lonely night in my apartment, painting, held about as much appeal as rolling around in poison ivy. And if Foster wasn’t going to be there, it shouldn’t be an issue. I trusted that Pike was only making a friendly offer, not a flirty one. And he did sound a little scared at the prospect of going home alone with Monty. I shook my head. “You know, the shelter doesn’t offer a house visit from a vet complete with purchase.” He made a praying motion with his hands and batted those sooty lashes at me. “Pleeease. Have mercy on me, doc.” I put a fist on my hip, amused. “You know? Maybe you and Monty really are soul mates because those puppy dog eyes you’re giving me should come with a warning label.” He grinned and threw his arm around me again. “You’re the best.” “Somehow I can’t even feel angry at you despite knowing you just blatantly manipulated me.” He gave me a squeeze. “Don’t feel bad. That’s my way. You’ll get used to it.” I laughed and leaned into him, all the weirdness from earlier dissipating. Yes, Pike and I had hooked up. Yes, I thought he was one of the hottest men I’d ever laid my eyes on. But at the core, we were meant to be friends only. I felt it that first night, and I felt it now. And after the emotional roller coaster I’d been on with Foster the last couple of weeks, being with someone who didn’t make everything in me turn inside out was probably just what I needed tonight. Even if it wasn’t what I craved. Chapter 17 (#ud1b42da2-c75b-587b-bf64-2a1ccdce41f3) “The fucker wouldn’t talk,” Foster said, staring out at the dark road in front of him. “Shit.” A full sigh came through the speakerphone. “I thought—” “Yeah, so did I. He said he’d only talk if I was there, but then he backed out at the last second. He told Agent Long that he didn’t have anything to say now. Someone either got to him in the prison, or he was just spinning stories in the first place.” “I’m sorry, Foster.” He leaned his head against the headrest, feeling beat down. “The FBI isn’t going to dig much further now that there’s no new information. They’re spread too thin to be wasting time on a cold case. I need you to take over with what little the guard overheard from this guy in the first place. He threw out a few nicknames, maybe start with that.” “Will do, boss,” Bret said without hesitation. “I’ll see what I can find.” “Thanks.” Foster turned into the parking lot. He’d be working with Bret for years now and knew the relentless private investigator would turn over every new rock even if they continued to find nothing under them. “Keep me posted.” “Of course. And Foster?” “Yeah.” “Let me handle it and take a break. You sound like shit.” “It’s midnight. Of course I sound like shit.” He swung the car into his normal parking spot. “Don’t be a smartass. You know what I mean. Go get drunk or laid or something. You’ve been in a crap mood every time I talk to you lately.” “Good night, Bret.” He hit the Off button without waiting for a response. No way was he going to tell Bret that his perpetual foul mood had nothing to do with the investigation. The case had been part of his life for as long as he could remember—dead ends were part of his existence. Frustrating and disheartening but nothing new. No, he knew exactly what—or who, rather—had turned him into some Mr. Hyde version of himself. Foster glanced up at the darkened window on the third floor of the building in front of him. He’d done the right thing with Cela. Taking her up on her offer for a fling would’ve been selfish. He’d seen how wide her brown eyes had gone when she’d realized he didn’t just want to dish out a little spank and tickle—that he wanted to own a woman. She’d been shocked at the prospect … and appalled. Not that he’d been surprised. Most people wouldn’t respond positively to what he truly desired. He’d learn to accept that a long time ago. And he couldn’t change it, even if he wanted to. And, boy, were there times he wanted to and tried to. But he’d learned that even if he could quell that side of himself, it was only a temporary fix. He’d tried to adjust his needs with Darcy, had been easy on her when he wanted to be rough, had watered down the experience so as not to scare her away. But it’d been the worst way to go about it. He’d created a farce of a relationship where neither of them was getting what they wanted, but no one was talking about it. Foster knew he could’ve given Cela the piped piper song and dance, could’ve softened the extent of what he was seeking, made it more palatable. He could’ve spent a few more days in her bed, constantly reeling himself in. But he was done with painting pretty pictures that only showed the surface of something. He was walking away from her to protect her from something she wasn’t ready for and to protect himself from attaching hope to a hopeless situation. She was too young and inexperienced. And she was leaving. End of story. Of course, his dick hadn’t gotten the memo. Even staring up at her window like some pathetic stalker had his cock growing hard. “Fuck.” He yanked the keys out of the ignition and pushed open his door. This day needed to be done. And he had to schedule some time to go back out to The Ranch. The last time had been a bust. He hadn’t been able to muster up interest in anyone after his talk with Cela. All his thoughts had stayed there with her in her apartment—those dark eyes and her paint-smudged cheeks. But he couldn’t be walking around this wound up anymore. He didn’t just need sex; he needed to beat someone—to tie a sub up and channel all his frustration into those exquisite moments where all ceased to exist except his dominance and a woman’s utter surrender. He slammed his car door behind him and headed into the building. For now, he was going to have to settle for a hot shower and a cold bed. He trudged up the stairs, unbuttoning the top two buttons of his dress shirt before he even hit his door. Hopefully, Pike was already asleep because the last thing he felt like doing was answering questions about the failed trip out to the prison. And he’d need to be quiet because he’d originally planned to spend the night in the small town where the prison was located, so Pike wasn’t expecting him. Foster turned his key in the lock and quietly opened the door, blinking in the darkness of the entryway. He could see the blue flicker of the television still on in the living room. He sighed. Pike was forever falling asleep on the couch with the TV still on. It was like the guy had an aversion to his own bed. Foster stepped into the kitchen, setting down his keys and his wallet, and toeing off his shoes. He was about to head down the hallway to turn off the TV when he heard Pike’s hushed voice and a soft answering laugh. A feminine one. So Pike had a girl over. That actually could work out in Foster’s favor because then Pike wouldn’t be inclined to shoot the shit with him. He’d have to pass by the living room to get to his bedroom, so he continued walking. But when the female voice responded to something Pike said, Foster froze in his spot. Cela? “So it’s all about dominance?” Pike asked. “Mmm-hmm,” Cela replied. “If you’re not in charge, it won’t work.” Foster went icy cold, everything inside him crystallizing and cracking. Pike had Cela over on a night he thought Foster was out of town. Cela was laughing and talking about Pike being in charge. The day from hell had just turned into a waking nightmare. “I can be dominant.” Foster couldn’t handle another word. He rounded the corner and found the two of them sprawled on the floor, propped up on pillows like they were at a fucking slumber party. “Just make sure you project calmness. He’ll sense if you’re not and act up,” Cela said, her back to Foster. “Will he—shit.” Pike noticed Foster standing there. Foster crossed his arms over his chest, trying not to let any emotion peek through his expression. “Sorry to interrupt.” Cela’s head moved like it was on a swivel, her eyes going big in the flickering TV light. “Foster.” Pike pushed into a sitting position. “I thought you were—” “Yeah, well, plans changed,” he said, unable to keep the bite out of his voice. “And seriously, Pike, sneaking around behind my back? At least have the balls to tell me you want to fuck her.” “Foster!” Cela gasped and scrambled upward. “Whatever. I don’t fucking need this tonight. I’m going to bed. Try to keep it down.” He turned around and strode toward his bedroom ready to charge right through the solid wood of his door just to take the edge off his anger. “Dude, calm the hell down,” Pike said from behind him. “It’s not—” He slammed his door, blocking out the rest of Pike’s sentence. Asshole. All the girls in the world Pike could have, and he was going to mess with the only one that Foster couldn’t bear to imagine with anyone else. There was a hard knock on his door. “Come on, man. Let me in.” But Foster just ignored him as he unbuttoned the rest of his shirt, one of the buttons popping off completely in his haste to get in the shower and a block out everything outside. But right as he tossed his shirt on the bed, there was another knock on the door, this one not as heavy but just as urgent. “Foster, open this door right now,” Cela demanded. He turned toward the door, surprised at the ire in her voice. He’d heard her nervous, he’d heard her confused, and he knew exactly what she sounded like when he drew his tongue along the shell of her ear or up her thigh—but never had he heard her angry. Despite knowing it was a bad idea, he stalked to the door and swung it open. There she stood in her wrinkled pink scrub pants and a T-shirt, cheeks stained with color, and hair a little wild—looking as enticing as he’d ever seen her. “We don’t need to do this, ang— Cela.” He caught himself right before he called her angel. “The hell we don’t!” She pushed past him and into his room without invitation. “You can’t just walk in and throw out accusations when you don’t even know what’s going on.” “Well, it’s not that hard a puzzle to put together.” She gave him a disbelieving look, then put her hands to her temples and let out a diatribe in Spanish—his shy neighbor switching into some fiery Latina mode he didn’t know she was capable of. “You’re so—ugh. I can’t even believe you’re acting like this. Pike got a freaking dog, okay? I’ve been here all night trying to help him get everything set up for Monty, to teach him how to train him.” “He did what?” “If you had taken the time to ask the question or see the kennel in the corner, maybe you could’ve saved yourself from lighting into Pike and insulting me.” “Insulting you?” She held her hands out to her side, exasperated. “Foster, you just accused me of being the kind of girl who would sleep with you and then sneak around with your best friend. Why not just call me a slut and call it a day?” He cringed. “I didn’t—” “Speaking of which,” she continued, apparently not in the mood to listen to an apology. “What right do you have to come stomping through here like you have some right to me anyway? You walked away. You said good-bye. Who I hang out with is not your business.” He raked a hand through his hair. “You know why I walked away.” “Right. Yes. You’re the Big Bad Wolf, and I’m innocent Little Red Riding Hood. Got it. Let me go find my freaking picnic basket.” She moved to walk past him, hair whipping behind her, but he grabbed her wrist, halting her. “You know it’s more than that. Don’t act like it’s a small thing.” Those chocolate eyes held challenge as she met his gaze. “Isn’t it, though? So you’re a little kinky. Whatever. Big deal.” “Whatever?” She gave a petulant little shrug, and he wanted to turn her over his knee right there. Конец ознакомительного фрагмента. Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес». Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию (https://www.litres.ru/roni-loren/trust-not-until-you-part-4/?lfrom=688855901) на ЛитРес. Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.