Free Hurting To Feel (Carpool Dolls) by Abby Wood Page A

ago.
    She
walked across the room, opened a door, and found a large walk in closet. She
wanted to make a face at him, but instead walked back across the room and
opened the other door. She surged inside and shut the door. Because she didn't
want him to come in while she cleaned herself, she locked the door. Instead of
moving toward the toilet, she leaned against the counter.
    Her
whole body shook. What was she doing?
    Nate
Rafferty lay in the other room, ignoring her after testing her with a story
meant to scare her away. And, she stayed. Not only had she stayed, she loved
what he did for her. Sick, sick, sick.
    Obviously,
her independence flew right out of her body when Nate was around. He probably
got a big kick out of knowing he could bend her to his will.
    "Come
here," she whispered, screwing up her mouth as she mimicked him.
"God, I'm so stupid."
    She
pushed away from the counter, found a washcloth in the tall cabinet at the end
of the bathroom, and washed any evidence of her lack of sanity off. After she
deemed herself clean of Nate, she pulled on her panties, washed her hands, and
walked out into the room. She had no idea where Nate lived, only that they were
above Portland.
    Nate
remained on the bed in the same position, same look on his face, same
nonjudgmental attitude directed at her. She slipped on her shoes. Hopefully, it
wouldn't take a taxi long to come pick her up.
    "Okay,
so, um, I'm going to call a cab." She shrugged as she gave him a sarcastic
smile that probably appeared more grimace than happiness.
    When
he refused to respond, she pursed her lips. She didn't get him. Whatever.
    She
was seriously messed up in the head, but he was an even bigger mess. She walked
toward the door.
    "Addy,"
he murmured.
    She
stopped. Talking with him took every miniscule of patience. She rather yell and
throw something at him. The cold indifferent Nate drove her crazy.
    She
turned around. "What?"
    "You're
not going anywhere, but back in bed with me," he said. "I made a
promise."
    "I
don't remember what that was." Ha! Take that Mr. Stonewall Rafferty.
    "Don't
be ridiculous." He moved off the bed and stood in front of her before she
even thought of running out of the room. "We're together. I want you in my
bed, in my house, and with me when I'm not working."
    She
laughed, because what he wanted could never happen. "I have to work."
    "Not
tomorrow or the next day. Carpool Dolls is only open Monday through Friday. Two
hours in the morning and two hours in the evening. All the rest of the time is
mine." He framed her face with his hands. "You agreed."
    "You're
changing the rules," she whispered. "You said nothing about where I'd
be staying or how I would fit in working while dating you. I own a company. I'm
responsible for other people's livelihood. You have no idea—"
    "I
do." His thumb covered her lips. "I'm being considerate. You're
allowed to work, and I'll set limits if you need extra time after hours to deal
with your business. For now, all you need to know is you're in my bed
tonight…I'm not done with you yet."
    "But,
you showed me what you want," she said.
    He
stared down into her eyes. "Not at all. You have no clue, but you
will."
    His
hand tugged at her hair and she leaned into him. She could agree with the last
part. She had two full days with him before she had to return to work, and by
then she could let him know that her job came first.
    "Tomorrow,
we'll hire someone to move your things here," he said.
    She
jolted. "You can't—"
    He
captured her mouth, swallowing her refusal. Her push against him faded when he
stuck his tongue in her mouth. She closed her eyes. God, he could kiss.
    Tomorrow,
after he finished with her tonight, she'd tell him what she wanted out of their
new relationship. He wasn't the only one who could make demands.

 
    Chapter
Eleven
    An
hour after daybreak, Nate stood at his bedroom window looking out at the
Willamette River. Instead of seeing the traffic, the city coming alive, and the
low fog