Food. I needed to eat before I devoured her. I popped two more grapes in my mouth just as she asked, “How old are you?”
In the middle of swallowing, I damn-near choked to death. I banged across my chest and reached for the orange juice, already picturing the headline: Westinghouse Heir Slain by Grapes. Fantastic, that’s just what my father needed; then again, he’d probably be able to run for president after such high approval ratings. Imagine, his son, taken so young.
“Old,” I finally managed to croak out. “Like a gross old man. You’re lucky I stopped kissing you when I did Don’t want my arthritis rubbing off on you.”
“First off,” Lisa said, holding a grape in the air. “Gross. Second, you can’t be that old. You went to school with Wes, right?”
“Twenty-seven,” I answered before I lost the nerve. “I graduated from high school early. Wes is younger than me, but our families vacationed together a lot. We attended the same private school. Even went to the same crappy summer camp.
“You and summer camp.” Lisa squinted. “I can’t picture it. That must have been horrible for you, all those labeled clothes jammed into a suitcase… spiders, ants…” She shivered. “You poor thing.”
“Have I somehow given you the impression that I’m unable to survive outside?” I teased, leaning in so I could be closer to her.
“The labels.” She shrugged one shoulder and popped another grape into her mouth. “Kinda killed the whole alpha-male thing you had going for you.”
“I like order,” I argued, placing both of my hands on the counter so that I was as close to her as possible without actually jumping over the counter or pulling her down with me.
Lisa tilted her head as if assessing me. “You like control.”
Well, that was blunt.
I opened my mouth but shut it again. “In some areas, yes, though in my experience, too much control could be a bad thing.”
“Yeah.” A shadow crossed her face. “It really can.”
I knew I’d touched on her past, knew it by the lost and guilty look on her face.
“More grapes?” I held up the plate like I had the social skills of a seven year old and didn’t possess a doctorate degree.
“No.” She placed her hands on her stomach. “I think I’ve had enough food and drama for the night. Maybe I should just go to bed.”
Bed.
Satin sheets.
Red sheets.
Hell, no sheets, just the floor next to the bed, the wall, the stairs, anywhere I could take her — I wanted her writhing, shaking, moaning, licking? Too many verbs, too many actions I was unable to fulfill as my body grew hotter and tighter with the need to peel the dress from her body and touch her skin. My body leapt to attention at the mental image — any minute, and I was going to start panting.
I was probably going to go to hell for all the images flashing through my brain, images of me doing things to her that no professor — teacher, instructor — should ever want to do to his student. Yet, there we were on my desk naked. In my shower? Naked. On my yacht? Naked.
Groaning, I abruptly turned away from her and tried to calm my body down. She probably thought I was pissed — far from it, just so damn tired of being the perfect son, of doing the right thing. I wanted her. It wasn’t right; it was wrong, and for the first time in my life, I wanted the wrong. I wanted the bad. I wanted it more than truth. Give me the lie. Just give me her.
I was going to have to take a cold shower, maybe three. I was her professor. Her teacher. An instructor. At least for the semester. Sharing a bed? Not happening. And even if I wasn’t? She’d hate me for it. I’d hate me for it. And I could only imagine what my father would say if he ever discovered what I was truly doing back in Seattle.
I cleared my throat and turned back around. I grabbed the containers and shoved them back into the fridge before offering my hand. “Sounds like a plan. Let me just show you to your room.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
“Did everyone see?” I smirked as Mel leaned forward, her face pale with worry.
“Yeah.” Her lips were even white. “It got the most hits out of all of our posts on the website. The guy was completely horrified. He even called the police. His parents freaked, and…” She shivered. “Why? Why him?”
“His life needed more excitement.” I felt satisfied that I’d ruined another life, satisfied that I’d used Mel to do it, though she didn’t seem happy about it like she used to. That’s how bad choices start, though. Do you truly think a homicidal maniac wakes up and goes, hmm… think I’ll kill someone today? Hell no. It’s the tiny choices. The small things you think don’t matter. Stealing candy from a store, lying to your parents, stealing money, doing drugs, kicking a dog, drowning a turtle… what–the-hell-ever. It’s the small insignificant choices that lead to life-altering decisions. She had no idea when she said yes to that one dance with me that I was going to alter her — and now, she had no way out. —The Journal of Taylor B.
Lisa
IT WAS AWKWARD and tense, walking up the stairs to the second floor. Each click of my heels was another reminder that we were alone, just me and Tristan, or Mr. Blake. I wasn’t even sure what to call him, how to address him. On one hand, I was fiercely attracted to him; the other part of me was horrified that I’d just done something so stupid that he’d rejected me, yet offered me protection, something I’d shamelessly taken without arguing. That’s what fear does. It leads you up the stairway into the unknown with a sexy man following your every move.
When we reached the top of the stairs, I stopped, unsure of which way to turn. Two rooms spread out in front of me. To the right was the edge of a balcony overlooking the kitchen, and a few chairs pointed toward the large bay windows. A fireplace sat square in the middle. I wanted to be as far away from that balcony as possible.
I’d hated heights ever since that night.
They made me want to puke. As it was, my hands were shaking.
“Left,” Tristan whispered, and his hand grazed my lower back, just enough to let me know he was still there. My knees knocked together as I turned and walked in the direction he’d instructed. I tried to keep my head high. A few more steps and I could lock myself in the room and pretend that his touch didn’t affect me, that his kiss wasn’t still buzzing across my swollen lips.
“Here we are.” He stepped out from behind me and walked to a door then pushed it open.
The guest room was huge. A large king-sized bed dominated the middle. The wall facing the water wasn’t solid but made of glass from floor to ceiling. The windows allowed the moonlight to shimmer inside the room, casting a comforting glow on the white fluffy bed and matching white leather chairs. Clearly, the guy had a thing for the modern look.
Black-and-white pictures lined the walls, and a few candles were scattered around in organized chaos; either he had a heck of a decorator or had an eye for style.
I turned around the room then faced him.
Tristan was busy turning on the switch to the fireplace that appeared to also be visible on both sides, leading into the bathroom. When he turned to face me, his face had become indifferent once again, impossible to read. It made me nervous because I’d known a face like that, one that was emotionless.
I took a step back and tried to appear nonchalant, but my heart was giving me away, beating so rapidly against my chest I could have sworn he could both hear and see it.
“You’ll be safe here, Lisa.” His voice was smooth, his lips full against his careful smile. “I swear it.”
“Safe from the boogeyman.” I nodded and offered a shrug. “Thanks for that…” And the kiss, and the night of escapism.
Tristan hesitated, his eyes searching my face. My body heated as his hungry gaze devoured me from head to toe. He took a step toward me, and then another. My hands clenched at my sides as I waited. My breathing slowed. Everything in the room slowed by his fluid movement.
Once he was inches from my body, his hands slowly rose to my shoulders th
en caressed down my arms, resting at my wrists. With a shudder, I bit my lip as he lifted both hands to his lips and bestowed a kiss on each one.
Dropping my left hand, he kept my right, flipping it over until my palm was facing his delicious mouth. With a wicked smile, he kissed the inside of my wrist and then my palm, his breath hot against my skin. My body was full-on trembling, unable to decipher if he was safe or dangerous.
“Goodnight, Lisa.” He released my hand. “Sweet dreams…”
It took me a second to catch my breath, and when I did, my voice was hoarse. “You too.”
“I can promise you…” His eyes traveled from my head all the way down to my toes. “…I will.”
With that, he left the room, shutting the door silently behind him. I staggered toward the door, nearly face-planting against it, then turned the lock and leaned against the cool wood. Whimpering, I slid down until I was on the floor and let my head bang back against the door a few times, trying to lodge something logical into my brain.
He wasn’t for me.
He was my teacher.
My teacher!
Granted, he was also a sexy piece of man who was also clearly just as important as Wes and Gabe, but that made him even more off limits. I had to stay out of the limelight, at all costs, because I knew if I did… what had been promised to me would finally come true.
He’d ruined my life, my career, everything that night, and I knew my only saving grace was disappearing, pulling out of the public eye and pretending to be something and someone different.
He couldn’t hurt me if I was Lisa.
But as Mel?
I might as well have jumped off that bridge with him.
I squared my shoulders and forced the morbid thoughts out of my head. Tonight I was safe, but that didn’t mean I wasn’t going to check under my bed, in the closet, and also make sure my phone was right on my nightstand just in case.
Feeling silly that I’d locked the door from the one guy trying to protect me, I unlocked it just before slipping out of my dress and crawling under the covers.
The mattress was like lying on my own giant goose, you know, minus all the internal parts. I sighed longingly into the fluffy pillow and let myself sleep, knowing I wouldn’t have to worry about creepy packages being sent to my dorm or opening mail…
But tomorrow? Tomorrow was another story completely.
Tristan… I smiled when I thought of his kiss. For one night, it was nice to escape… one forbidden night.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Videos of shame were my idea, my golden child. I’d started it in order to entertain myself. It quickly turned into a blog, and I gained a following so quick it was near impossible to run on my own. I needed recruits. Needed people willing to do the dirty within the circles of the rich and famous. Because this website? It wasn’t about picking on the strong, but picking on those who came from money, those who could take it, those who thought the world owed them something just because of who they were. Sound a bit hypocritical? Oh you have no idea. I needed someone sexy, someone who knew how to get people to do things… someone who was just as bored as I. When she walked into the room that night, eyes distant, heart heavy, I knew I had her. Besides what’s the best way to nurse a broken heart? Revenge. It’s always revenge. —The Journal of Taylor B.
Tristan
I WAS A COMPLETE jackass. Touching her hadn’t been part of the deal. Hadn’t I not but a few minutes ago decided to just leave her alone? Why couldn’t I make that choice and stick with it? I’d always been solid with decisions, able to will myself toward any choice, and do it without emotion. Apparently that’s what made me… what? Sick? In need of medication? And apparently it’s what had killed him; that same side of me that was able to totally separate emotions from decisions.
If dead men could tell tales, I wondered what his would be about his emotions? All I had was the journal; all I had was the sneaking suspicion we were exactly alike — cold, ruthless, easily able to manipulate to get what we wanted. It made me a damn good businessman. But when it came to relationships? Not so much.
But with Lisa? I truly had no control; the madness she created in me stirred parts of my soul that I hadn’t even known existed until now. What the hell was I supposed to do? Leave her alone? Kiss her? Walk away?
I was stuck.
Walking away meant I’d given up a few months of my real life for nothing. It also meant giving in to my absolute worst fear. It meant not avenging his death. It meant too many horrible things.
But staying? Staying meant I’d be fighting my carnal nature every step of the way. It meant every time she smiled I’d have to ignore the way it stirred me. It meant that, when she entered the room, I had to ignore the fact that her perfume practically choked me into submission.
I tossed and turned in bed as my clock mocked my inability to fall asleep. Around two a.m. I almost went downstairs to make coffee.
Instead, a scream jolted me fully awake.
My heart thumped against my chest. Was it my imagination? I waited, the sound of crickets the only noise, until another scream of terror erupted.
I flew out of bed and ran down the hall until I reached her door. When I pushed it open, Lisa was tossing in bed, her short hair spilling across the pillow and her face scrunched up in fear. Tears streamed down her face, but her eyes were still closed.
“Lisa?” I whispered.
Another tremor hit her body. She jerked in her sleep then started hitting the pillow with her hand. “No, stop, don’t jump. Please don’t jump.”
My balance took a hit as I gripped the wall to keep me steady. Was this another piece of the puzzle? Was she talking about him? Or was it just a dream?
“No!” she wailed. “Stop! Please stop!”
Not able to take it anymore, I made my way to the bed and gently sat down next to her shivering body. Speaking in as calm a voice I could manage, I said, “Lisa, you’re having a nightmare. It’s okay. Wake up.”
She jerked in her sleep again, whimpering as if she was getting beat. She covered her face and then started full-on sobbing.
I gripped her hands and pulled them free and braced myself for impact, knowing full well she’d probably attack me as she woke up.
“Lisa!” I shook her wrists. “Wake up!”
Her eyes jerked open; they were so wide they could have swallowed me whole. With a cry, she lunged for me and threw her weight against me.
Cursing, I fell off the bed, Lisa on top of me, her legs bracing me on either side.
“Lisa!” I tried shaking her again.
She shook her head. A frenzied look crossed her face, and then she slumped against me. Recognition flashed quickly followed by embarrassment. “Oh, my gosh! I’m so sorry! I’m so… I normally don’t make habits of assaulting people in my sleep!”
I smiled, even though the last thing I was feeling was amused. More like extremely hard-pressed not to flip her onto her back and kiss some calm into her. Then again, that wouldn’t calm me and would probably earn more terror on her end. “It’s fine.” I let out an exhale of relief. “I don’t normally make a habit of barging in on my guests. It’s just… I thought there was an intruder.”
She grinned, the tears streaking against her smooth cheeks. “And you normally make a habit of attacking intruders in your black silk boxers?”
My body demanded I respond to that particular statement. Instead, I winked. “Yeah, well, my labeled bat was downstairs, so I figured scaring them with my expensive boxers was the next best thing.”
She pulled away, still straddling me, placing her hands on her hips and looking down. “Absolutely terrifying.”
“Yeah,” I said gruffly, telling my body to calm the hell down. “Glad I served my purpose.”
Every muscle was taut, so much so that it was hard to breathe. I doubt she realized her eyes were still trained on my abs. I thanked every lucky star I had. Black silk boxers didn’t exactly cover a multitude of sins.
“If we’re
going to stay on the floor all night, the least you could do is toss me a pillow,” I joked, though my tone was anything but playful.
Her eyes heated for a second before she scurried off me.
My body flat out demanded I pull her back and keep her there. The loss I felt at her leaving was nothing short of ridiculous, but there it was.
Lisa sat on the bed and wrung her hands together while I stood and tried to hide the fact that her mouth was so damn arousing I was having trouble remembering all the reasons I couldn’t have her in the first place.
“Is there anything I can do?”
Lisa looked down at her hands and smiled. “You offering to sing me to sleep, Tristan?”
I sat down next to her. “You offering to let me?”
“That depends. How good of a singer are you?”
“Horrible,” I admitted with a soft chuckle. “But it may scare the bad dreams away.”
“And the girl too.” She nudged me with her elbow.
I full-on laughed. “Right, most likely send her screaming into the night. If it isn’t the label maker, it will most definitely be the hoarse singing.”
Lisa bit her lip and peered up at me through her hair.
I tucked it behind her ear, unable to stop my hands from moving before it was too late.
Her breath hitched; instinctively she wet her upper lip. I leaned in, my mouth hovering over hers.
“This is a bad idea,” she whispered right before our mouths met.
I could taste her — taste all of her — and we hadn’t even touched yet. “Well, clearly it’s been a night for bad ideas, bad nightmares, and potentially bad singing. What’s one more thing?”
Her entire body tensed, and I knew, once again I’d lost her, lost her to whatever demons plagued her and, by association, plagued me.
With a lazy smile I pulled back and whispered, “Try to get some sleep, and in the morning...” I shrugged.
“In the morning things will look better? Is that what else you were going to say?”
Shame Page 7
