I swallowed the instant flame of jealousy I felt at the thought of her being in his place with him, alone. My voice was tight when I spoke. “He drove you here?”
“No, I took a cab. I was hoping you’d still be up.”
“I said I’d wait for you.” I stroked my thumbs under her eyes, not liking the faint shadows that seemed to be there all the time. “Did you get any rest today?”
“A couple hours.”
“You’re sleeping in tomorrow.” If she wasn’t going to look after herself, I fucking would.
“I have brunch with my parents.”
“Cancel.”
“I—”
“You need your sleep.” I hated the fact she seemed to always put herself, and her needs, last.
“I can’t sleep all day, Adam.”
“You could if you stayed here.”
“I have to work tomorrow night.”
“Why?”
“I traded shifts.”
“You can stay here until you have to go.”
She picked up the skirt of her gown, letting it fall back down in waves of brilliant orange and gold. “And go to work in this?”
I lifted her off the counter. “Let me get you some clothes and we’ll go to bed. You can plug in your phone and call to say you’re not coming. I’ll take you home early enough you can change before work.”
“I have to go. Especially after tonight.”
I scowled as I searched the cupboard, grabbing her a T-shirt and some boxers that were too small on me now. At least they wouldn’t fall off her when she moved—not that I’d object to that.
“Are you in that much trouble for wearing a pretty gown? Do they object to you looking different from all the bland women who were there this evening?” I complained. “It was like a fucking Stepford wife meeting.”
I thought she’d agree, maybe laugh at my assessment. What I didn’t expect were the words that came out of her mouth.
“No. I have to go and talk to them. I want them to hear the news from me.”
“What news?”
She drew in a deep breath, taking the clothes from my hands. “I told Bradley I couldn’t do this anymore. I—I broke up with my fake boyfriend.”
Then she disappeared into the bathroom, leaving me stunned.
I paced as I waited, anxious. I needed to know why she “broke up” with Bradley.
Everything in me prayed it was because she had the same intense draw to me as I had to her—that she didn’t want anyone in her life except me, fake or otherwise.
She came out of the bathroom looking adorable in my old shirt. It was torn and tattered, the material thin, showing off her curves.
“I can give you a better shirt.”
She stroked the material. “No, this one is soft. I like it.”
I liked the way it hung around her shoulders with the ragged, wide neck, and the way it showed off her milky thighs. My body hardened at the simple beauty that shone from her. I wanted her.
I patted the bed next to me, lifting the covers so she could be warm as we talked. I wrapped my hand around hers. “Tell me.”
It was a minute before she spoke. Her eyes were trained on our hands, her fingers tracing over my bruised knuckles which I got when I slipped on some wet, rocky ground. She bent down, brushing her lips to the discolored flesh.
“I can’t do it anymore. The constant demands and the disappointment I see on their faces. Nothing I do is right or good enough, and I’m tired of trying.” She sighed in resignation. “I knew my dress wasn’t what my mother would want me to wear, but I thought it was so pretty.”
“You were beautiful.”
She tilted her head back. “You’re the only person who said that.”
I lifted our hands and kissed the thin skin inside her wrist. “You should always wear what you want. Act the way you want to. Do what makes you happy.”
“When I’m on my own, I do. My mother hates the way I dress, but I like to be comfortable. I find it hard to conform to their vision of what is right all the time. I wore because I loved it. Last time the dress I wore was simple and black—Bradley told me I looked like an old woman and my mother said it was dreadful, so this time I wore what I liked. But once again, it was wrong.”
“No. They’re wrong.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“Because you’re perfect—just the way you are.”
She shook her head, frustration in her voice. “I’m not perfect, Adam. I don’t want to be put on a pedestal by you. I’ve had to be perfect for so long. I’m just me.”
I held her hand to my face. “I know you’re not a perfect person. But all your little imperfections, all the things you think you have to change, make you perfect for me.”
She drew in a shaky breath. “Thank you.”
“What did great-guy Bradley think about being fake dumped?” I queried, interested in his reaction.
No matter what the bastard told her, he wasn’t faking anything. He wanted her—and he wanted to control her the same way her parents did. He just covered it better.
“He wanted to talk, so that’s why I went to his place. I felt I owed him that at least.”
“What did you tell him?”
“The truth. I told him I realized it didn’t matter what I did, it was never going to be enough. I was tired of living for everyone else and trying to make up for something I could never make up for—no matter how long or hard I tried. And using him only made me feel worse. We were both lying.” She took in a deep breath. “He asked me if there was someone else.”
“And?” I tensed as I waited for her reply.
“I told him yes. I’d met someone and I wanted to explore it.”
“He didn’t like that, did he?”
Her gaze flittered around and she didn’t answer.
I cupped her cheek, turning her face to mine.
“Did he do anything?” I paused. “Tell me the truth.”
“No, he didn’t touch me.”
“He said something?”
“He didn’t like it, and said he didn’t understand why I didn’t see you secretly until I made sure it was going to work out, and then we could discuss ending things. He seemed to think whoever I was interested in wouldn’t stay interested in me very long.”
“Well, the bastard is wrong. Did you tell him about me?”
“No, it’s none of his business.”
I liked the no-nonsense tone of her answer. I wished she use it on her parents, but I knew that would take time.
“He dropped it, but asked me a favor.”
“What?”
“There’s a benefit on Thursday. His father and my parents are going to be there. He asked me to go with him, so I switched my shifts and go to work tomorrow and have that night off.”
I tamped down my irrational possessiveness. “I see.”
“I’m going to tell my parents tomorrow that we’ve decided to only be friends, but I’m going on Thursday to show my support—as his friend.”
She smiled. “Besides, Elena will be back from her latest trip. I haven’t seen her in a month.”
“Will she sit at your table?”
“No. She doesn’t like Bradley. She’ll sit at another table.” She chuckled. “Or I should say hold court at another table. She’s very, um, entertaining.”
I liked that woman more and more with everything I heard about her.
“Brunch won’t be pleasant, but I have to do it.”
“Will you let them change your mind?”
“No,” she stated firmly. “I’ve thought about this the whole time you were gone. You were right. They’re going to be disappointed no matter what.”
“Then what?”
She looked at me, her vivid blue gaze that was all at once tender and determined. “Then I start living my life—for me.”
“Can I be a part of that life, Nightingale?”
“Yes,” she breathed. “I missed you so much while you were gone. It felt l
ike a part of me was missing.”
“I felt the same.”
“I’m glad you’re home.”
I gathered her close, wrapping myself around her as I slid down in the bed. Our mouths met in a series of long, deep kisses. My tongue sought out her sweetness, reveling in her taste. My cock hardened as she arched against me. A long shudder racked her small frame and I pulled back from her mouth, dragging my lips over her skin to her ear. “I’ll always come home to you.”
“Adam,” she whimpered.
“You’re mine now.”
“Yes, I am.”
Her admission exhilarated me, and as much as I wanted to have her, I could feel her exhaustion in the heaviness of her limbs. “Sleep now.”
“I want to know all about what happened when you were gone.”
“I’ll tell you everything tomorrow.”
“Even where you got those bruises?”
I brushed a kiss to her head. “Yes.”
“Were you in danger?”
“No.”
“Were you careful?”
“Go to sleep.”
“Were you?”
“Yes, Ms. Bossy. I was careful.”
“Good.”
I smiled at her protectiveness. “I have extra reason to be careful now.”
She nodded, her eyes serious. “Yes.”
“I liked your texts.”
“I didn’t like not being able to talk to you,” she admitted in a quiet tone. “Why don’t you have a satellite phone?”
“Tommy had it—my track record with one isn’t good. They have a habit of going over cliffs or getting forgotten on the top of the car and I drive over them.” I stared at the ceiling, thinking. “To be honest—I never thought. I’m not used to having someone worry about me. Or think about calling someone while I’m gone. I’ll get better at staying in touch.”
“I don’t expect daily calls—just let me know you’re okay. A fast text. Something. That’s all I’m asking.”
“I will. I missed you, and I thought about you a lot.”
“I thought about you all the time.”
She yawned and I pulled the blankets tighter around her. “Sleep now.”
Like a kitten she curled up, tucking her hand under her cheek.
“Ally—”
“Hmm?”
“This benefit—what’s it for?”
“To raise money for more equipment for the pediatric ward at the hospital. Why?”
“Just asking.”
She nestled closer, her head on my chest. I ran my hand up and down her back; long, slow strokes meant to relax her. She sighed, the hand clutching my shirt relaxed, and her breathing leveled out. My mind was too full to sleep yet.
An idea was forming.
I was well known. My photographs drew a lot of attention and commanded a tidy sum. It was a worthwhile cause. A very worthwhile one.
Perhaps…
I should get in touch with the organizing committee. Offer something as an auction piece. Be there at the event to autograph it—personally.
I could meet a few people. Introduce myself.
I thought of Ally’s parents and their bored, cynical expressions earlier this evening. I knew they wouldn’t approve of me, despite the fact I was well off and successful. How I earned my money, and my lifestyle, were not up to their standards. Not to mention the ink that covered my arms—Ally had told me how much they disapproved of body art or anyone who didn’t conform to their narrow-minded world.
I was also blunt, outspoken, disliked them for the way they treated my girl, and I didn’t care about their opinion.
Wait until they got an eyeful of me.
We were going to hate each other, but they were going to have to get used to me.
Because I wasn’t going anywhere.
As far as I was concerned, if they walked away from Ally, her life could only get better.
And if they stayed, they were going to have to deal with me when they treated her badly. I was putting an end to that shit.
They were going to have to learn respect was a two-way street.
She needed someone to protect her.
That someone was me.
Chapter 8
“Stop taking my picture.”
I smirked, but set down the camera on the table and picked up my coffee cup. “Stop being so fucking sexy when you sleep, then.”
She sat up, her hair a bright burst of color around her face. She glared at me drowsily, then she dragged the loose shirt back up her arm. “I highly doubt my drooling is sexy.”
“Your snoring is, though.”
“I don’t snore!” she gasped.
I winked. “I’ll never tell.”
“What time is it?”
“Relax. It’s barely eight. You have lots of time.”
Her shoulders loosened. “Okay.”
“I still think you should cancel.”
“No. I want to tell them today.”
“Why is it so important to do it today?”
“You might think less of me if I tell you.”
I opened my arms. “Come here, Ally.”
She scrambled out of the bed, dragging the blanket with her. When she coiled around me, she was warm and curvy. Her softness molded into my hardness, meshing perfectly. She felt right in my arms, and I wanted to be able to explore it. Explore her.
“Why today?” I asked again.
“Appearance is everything to them. We’ll be in public,” she confessed quietly.
Understanding dawned on me. “They won’t make a scene.”
“They’ll express their displeasure and let me know how much I’ve let them down, but it will all be done very civilly.” She shrugged. “Then once they’ve discussed it, they’ll summon me to let me know in private how disappointed they are in me.”
I shook my head in frustration. “They shouldn’t be disappointed. All you’re doing is what is best for you. Your life. Not theirs. I wish—” I stopped myself from finishing that statement.
“You wish what?”
“I wish they would get the fuck out of your life.”
She was resigned. “They will soon enough.”
I could make it happen faster—pay her monetary debt and help her exorcise her mental responsibility, but I held my tongue. It was too soon for that.
“Good,” I muttered instead.
“I know you don’t understand, Adam, but she’s my mother.”
I stroked her cheek, tamping down my irritation. “You’re right. I don’t understand. Because she shouldn’t treat you like this. She should support you.” I snapped. “You should never have been made to feel as though you had to do this in the first place.”
Turning her face, she kissed my palm.
“Why did you think I’d think less of you?”
“Because I’m taking the easy way out. Or at least, delaying the inevitable.”
“I think you’re brave and wonderful. I also think you’re finally getting to the point you need to do this—it’s time you live for you.” I paused. “I didn’t know Ollie, but I think he’d want that for you.”
She curled into me, her head burrowed in my chest, and I held her tight, knowing she needed my closeness and support.
She’d needed that for a long time. I’d give it to her freely and without question.
—
Before I drove her home, she helped me wash the sheets and make up the bed. Watching her effortlessly stuff a king-size duvet into the cover and smooth it out without breaking a sweat was amazing. She laughed as she watched me try to imitate the way she tucked the sheets in place and fluffed the duvet on the end of the bed, standing back and admiring her handiwork. She made me move the bed twice until she was satisfied it was “in the right place.” I didn’t care—I liked her bossing me around.
I had to admit it looked good—and very inviting. So inviting I tackled her onto the smooth sheets and kissed her passionately as we rolled around the large mattress, messi
ng it up. When she finally escaped my clutches, her eyes were twinkling as she looked at the bed, scolding me and shaking her finger, trying to sound serious.
I propped myself up on my elbow, leering at her. “I like it better like this.”
“Why?”
I picked up a pillow and inhaled. “The sheets smell like you now. I imagine this is how the bed will look after we make love. Rumpled and messy.” I arched my eyebrow. “And smelling like us.”
Her eyes widened and she hurried to the bathroom, leaving me laughing at her reaction.
When she emerged, damp and clean, her hair neatly plaited into a long braid down her back, she was wearing my T-shirt and a pair of sweats I found for her.
She was quiet as I drove her to her place. The closer we got, the tenser she became. When we pulled up outside, I turned to her, ghosting my finger down her cheek. “Do you want me to come with you?”
“No!”
“I will.”
Her expression softened. “I know you would. But I have to do this on my own.”
“Will you call me when you’re done?”
“Yes.”
I leaned over and held her face between my hands. “If you need me, text or call. I’ll come get you, no matter what.”
“Thank you.”
I brushed my lips to hers. “Anything, Ally.”
She slipped out of the car, her brilliant gown clutched in her arms, wearing my clothes and a pair of high heels. She looked odd and utterly perfect.
I hated to see her walk away.
By the time I got home, I had a return call about the benefit on Thursday. They were beyond ecstatic for my last-minute contribution to the live auction segment of the evening and were thrilled to have me be part of the event. They were more than happy to accommodate my request to be sat at the same table as Elena Ames, as well as provide me with an extra ticket for another table. I decided I wanted to meet the one person who seemed to care about Ally.
Then I got to work on the item I’d be donating. As I skimmed through my photos, I paused on one I had taken of Ally this morning. She was nestled against the headboard on her side, her hair fanned out all around her, her face not visible. The ragged neckline of my T-shirt had fallen away, exposing the curve of her shoulder, and the hint of her rounded breast. The pose and the coloring was an erotic visual. High on her shoulder were seven dark freckles in the shape of a V that stood out in vivid detail beside the ivory of her skin, adding another element of sexiness. The sun was just rising, the rays of light highlighting her hair.
My Image of You Page 9
