by Robyn Grady
The room was cool and dark and predictably large. The carpet and satin spread on the king-size bed were steely grey. The sheets were already folded down and the heavy curtains pulled against the morning sun.
He took her hand and, his eyes on hers, led her to one side of the bed before deliberately lowering his mouth to the curve of her throat. When his teeth grazed the skin, she shivered and sighed until all her breath was gone, then she arched her neck and offered more.
Their clothes came off quickly while they were standing, sitting, finally while they were caressing and writhing amongst the sheets. As he explored her every curve and valley, she gave herself over to the fantasy, only wishing it would never end. She thought she’d lost the chance to ever feel this beautiful again, and as he gently rolled her onto her stomach and traced slow hot kisses down her back, she had to be glad she’d succumbed one more time.
She’d need these memories when it was time to let that harsh light back in.
By the time his mouth joined hers again, sparks were firing through her veins and that smouldering kernel of need at her core had begun to throb and burn. His body angled and covered hers, then he was filling her, moving with long measured strokes that pushed her, inch by inch, higher up that growing wave. His head dropped into her hair at the same time his hand fanned and gripped her thigh. He murmured her name and moved against her faster, until the powder ignited, the kindling went up and she was thrown a thousand leagues into the air.
Still throbbing above her, he dotted kisses over her brow, her cheek. When he shuddered one last time and exhaled on deep satisfaction, she drew her fingers around his bristled jaw and, short of breath, tipped up to feel his lips on hers one last time.
His mouth trailed her cheek, around her jaw. He murmured things close to her ear that almost had her believing that she was and would remain the most important thing in his life.
When he reluctantly shifted to lie beside her, her mind set, she rolled to her side off the bed.
As she reached to collect her bra and panties off the floor, uncertain of what she was up to, Alex sat slowly up.
‘Don’t get dressed,’ he said lightly. ‘If you have appointments this afternoon, just this once, cancel.’
‘I don’t have any appointments,’ she said, fitting the bra’s clasp.
He leaned over and warm fingers traced her back. ‘Then lie down. I want to hold you.’
Lord, she was tempted. But it was out of the question. Alex had to know that. After what they’d shared, she didn’t want to argue. Still she had to say this and say it now. Sitting on the edge of the bed, she turned and looked him in the eye.
‘Alex, this won’t happen again.’
His brows knitted, then he sat up straighter and ran a hand through his thick crop of hair. Finally he shook his head.
‘What are you talking about?’
‘Right or wrong, I love being with you. You can make me forget … everything. It’s almost enough …’ Emotion stuck in her throat and, wishing this was over, she lowered her gaze.
‘Enough for what?’
‘To make me forget what you did. How you treated me.’
How you used me.
‘Libby, for God’s sake. I did what you wanted. I wasn’t sure about my shoulder so I threw it all in and came back.’ He reached and gripped her hand. ‘I came back to you.’
Who was he trying to fool? ‘You shouldn’t have left like that in the first place!’
‘You honestly can’t understand what I was going through?’
‘I know what it’s like to be on top,’ she said, ‘and then have the rug pulled out from beneath you. It’s a huge shock. It hurts like hell. I get it.’ Of course she did.
His gaze pierced hers for a heart-stopping beat, then he flung back the sheet and, in a temper, leapt out of bed.
‘Don’t make it sound like I’m washed up. Like I’m a has-been with nothing to look forward to.’
A surge of indignation ignited her cheeks. Of course he would see her as ‘nothing.’
Clenching her jaw so hard her teeth ached, she thrust her feet through her trouser legs.
She didn’t need to stay here to listen to this. To Alex defending his precious title, even in the bedroom.
By the time her shoes were on, he seemed to have contained himself, although his voice was tellingly tight. ‘I don’t know why you can’t put it behind you.’
‘Same way you hope Annabelle’s put it all behind her?’
She rotated to see his powerful silhouette seeming to grow larger against the shuttered light. A measure of her bravado slipped when he strode around the bed and, rigid with anger, loomed over her.
‘I apologised, damn it. I’ve explained.’ His eyes blazed with outright frustration.
‘What the hell do you want from me?’
She sized him up. He wasn’t blind. Neither was he stupid. If he couldn’t see what she wanted—what any woman in her position would want—she sure as hell wouldn’t tell him.
Defiant—poised—she crossed her arms. ‘I don’t want anything from you.’
A pulse in his cheek beat erratically at the same time his grey eyes darkened, like twin thunderstorms about to unleash. But then the breath seemed to leave his body and, after two long torturous beats, his chin tipped up.
‘You want to punish me for what I did. But, Libby, you’re punishing us both.’
‘Punishing? Or protecting?’
A patronising look on his face, he reached for her but she wound away. His mouth pressed into a hard line at the same time his jaw shifted. When he reached for her again, this time he didn’t try for her wrist. Now he demanded her full attention. As his hands seized her upper arms, his mouth tilted on a sardonic smile.
‘Don’t tell me you’re sorry that today happened. Don’t try to tell me you really want to go.’
‘You’re right.’ Dear God. ‘I want to stay.’
But she couldn’t forget Scott, or Leo. More so, she couldn’t forget how Alex had dismissed her so heartlessly two weeks ago. Tears building in her eyes, she tried but couldn’t swallow past the claw opening in her throat.
‘But no matter how much I’d like for you to hold me—’ kiss me ‘—I won’t lay myself open to that kind of hurt again.’
The world seemed to shrink and press in on her lungs, on her heart, as the hold on her arms tightened. She wondered what he’d do next. Throw her out? Turn his back. Before her mind could grasp a third possibility, his mouth came crashing down, capturing and claiming hers without apology. Without reserve.
His caress was like a giant vacuum, devouring all memory other than the sublime sensory. As she lost herself to sensation, Alex curled over her more, driving her to surrender.
Convincing her that she couldn’t break free. He wouldn’t allow it.
When his lips finally, grudgingly, left hers, their breathing was ragged and the room was spinning. His palms slid up over her shoulders to rest either side of her neck, and as his heavy gaze penetrated hers, she recognised the appeased certainty glowing in his eyes. His chest expanded as his focus dropped to her parted lips and his thumbs drew coaxing circles beneath her lobes.
‘Now did that feel as if I want to hurt you?’
‘I never said you wanted to,’ she got out, feeling giddy. Weak. ‘That doesn’t mean you won’t.’ That you won’t again.
His gaze hardened. ‘I won’t let you do this. I won’t let you push me away.’
‘No. You’d rather keep me hanging around until you’re ready to get back to what’s really important.’ His only true passion. Racing.
Growling, he threw his hands away from her and made to hold his head as if legions of demons were scratching at his brain.
‘Damn it, Elizabeth! Why do you have to be so difficult.’
‘Would you rather I was more like Annabelle?’ she shot out. He’d never been honest and open with her and, for whatever reason, his sister had let it slide.
His voice lowered to a d
angerous pitch. ‘Keep her out of it. You know nothing about Annabelle.’
‘What’s worse is neither do you.’
‘Do not change the subject.’
As he enunciated each word, emotion filled her throat, stung her eyes, but she wouldn’t keep quiet. She wasn’t poor Annabelle.
‘You use people, Alex. You’d do anything—use anyone—to keep in front of the pack.
You used Carter White. You use Eli Steele. You use your fans and your team and your money to put a divider between you and your past. You set out to use me—’
‘That’s not true!’ His roar echoed through the room before his resolute gaze wavered and finally dropped away. ‘Not after I got to know you.’
Libby slumped. But why should she feel so disappointed? Hadn’t she known it all along? Then. Now. She was no more than a tool for Alex to manipulate to get what he needed.
When he sank down to sit on the edge of the bed, suddenly all the fight went out of her too. What was left was dull, deep acceptance. The realisation this was over and it needed to be. She stood and, leaving him behind, made her way down the stairs and out that door one last time.
She understood why Alex was happier living behind his safety nets. She was guilty of it too. It hurt less. But no matter how hard Alex pretended to be together—whole—the sad lonely truth was he was more damaged than she’d ever been.
Chapter Fourteen
‘Thought I’d find you here. Which one are you thinking of taking out?’
At the sound of Eli’s voice, Alex held off throwing his third dart and turned to see his friend entering the Rose Bay backyard garage. After this morning’s emotional roller-coaster ride with Libby Henderson, he could use a little uncomplicated male company.
When Libby had left earlier, Alex had been at a loss. Since he’d received that email from Annabelle weeks ago his life had been like a dodgem car race, complete with bang-ups and standstills and mind-spinning turnarounds. He’d done the right thing in Spain. He felt good about mentoring that boy. As far as pulling out of the race, given the intermittent pain in his shoulder, he’d had no choice but to step aside. He hadn’t been so sure in predicting Libby’s reaction to his invitation to his home. Their meeting had started off fiery. When they’d moved to the bedroom things had only got hotter. After making love he’d assumed their differences were all squared away.
Not even close.
Alex hurled the last dart and hit an inch off bullseye—not bad for left-handed. Then he ambled forward, past the old beat-up wreck in the corner, and wriggled the darts from the cork.
‘I don’t feel like driving.’ Alex offered up the darts to his friend. ‘Want a throw?’
Eli tugged his ear. ‘I need to rush out and buy a hearing aid. Did you say you don’t feel like driving? Has your arm got worse? I thought you were fine for everyday conditions.’
He gave a shrug that let Eli know that wasn’t it.
Alex sat on a stool and twirled the darts between his fingers, watching the red and black feathers swirl one way, then the other, while he thought over what Libby had said … about Annabelle and Carter and Eli. He couldn’t get her words out of his mind.
‘Have you ever let a woman get to you?’ Alex finally asked.
‘Get to me?’
‘You know. Get into your blood. Screw with your brain. She haunts me, Eli, and, I tell you, I’m done with it. I want her gone—’ determined, he flung all three darts at the board at once ‘—out of my head.’
Eli pulled up a stool. ‘You mean out of your heart.’
Alex stood to retrieve the darts. ‘Don’t talk to me about what I think you’re going to talk to me about.’
‘In three years, that’s the first time I’ve heard you ramble.’
Alex grunted and, darts in hand, took up his position behind the line. ‘That’s her fault.’
‘You’re one stubborn SOB, you know that?’
‘Nothing but compliments today.’ He threw the darts, one, two … When the last one hit the wall, he took stock and caught Eli’s eye and apologised, which he didn’t do often.
‘Sorry. I’m out of sorts today.’
‘You’ve been on your own a long time, Alex.’
Halfway to the dartboard, Alex stopped and looked at his friend hard. ‘You’re not going all Dr Phil on me, I hope.’
‘What is it about Libby that frightens you?’
‘Why would I be frightened?’
‘Make that terrified.’
Alex wriggled the darts out again. ‘I simply know what I’m capable of.’
Or he thought he’d known.
She’d asked him if she was protecting them both and she’d had a bloody good point.
He loved being with her. He couldn’t imagine finding that kind of connection again. But he wouldn’t pretend that he could promise anything and Libby had known it. He didn’t do commitment unless it was to the track.
‘If you ask me,’ Eli said, ‘and you did, you need to look at this from a wider perspective.’
‘It’s cut and dried. She wants something from me that I simply can’t give.’
‘Commitment. Maybe marriage.’
That’s what she wanted, all right. Then, like magic, the goodbye note and door shut in her face would be forgotten. Poof!
Alex pointed out, ‘I’ve known her a matter of weeks.’
‘And despite that she put her reputation on the line when she agreed to that early evaluation.’
‘That point is moot.’
After he’d hurt his shoulder again—catching Libby when she’d spilled off the patio—her evaluation had meant nothing. He’d had to start physio again. But he’d needed to work with someone else. He couldn’t abide any more distractions. His life had become too complicated as it was.
Eli pushed up to his feet, walked around the stool and crossed his arms. ‘Right. You don’t want to drive. Seems like you don’t want to talk. I’m sure you don’t want to sit around all week wishing you could swap these toys for a chance to be with her again.’ He paused to consider. ‘Did you tell her you understood how she felt?’
‘I’m pretty sure I showed her, Eli.’
‘Did you say you were sorry? It’s not so easy for us guys, I know.’
Alex was about to say yes, he’d apologised, and more than once. But then the words slipped away and he was left with the image of Libby, sitting beside him while he screeched around that private Gold Coast track. He was struck by the memories of how exhilarated and, to some extent, shaken he’d been afterward, knowing he’d never shared anything like that kind of experience before.
Wondering more, he angled his head.
Was he ….could he be … in love? Did he love Libby Henderson in the forever-after way? Marriage, family, ‘can I truly move on from my gritty childhood’ way? She brought out emotions and admissions no one else could.
But then another image faded up … Annabelle. And the old scarred memories that he wished to Hades he could forget came crashing down again. All those years ago Annabelle had so desperately wanted to be part of his ‘cool’ crowd. Instead of listening to her, protecting her that night, he’d shoved her off home—shut the door in her face—and continued on with his own thing. As if it were yesterday he remembered the next morning, running from the police in that beat-up blue sedan over there, then facing the truth about the obscenities that had occurred the night before.
He’d felt responsible for so much of Annabelle’s hurt and shame. If he hadn’t turned her away, she wouldn’t have been beaten by that worthless sod who’d dared call himself their father. Jacob wouldn’t have had to bear the guilt of committing patricide, even if he was subsequently acquitted of all charges. Self-defence. He’d defended Annabelle. Defended them all. And Alex had lacked the courage to apologise to his twin for casting her off that night, for handing her over to that animal on a platter.
They all had their wounds. But was it too late to talk about it now? To give a part of himself he hadn’t
ever thought worth giving.
Alex dropped his head into his hands and, his chest aching, groaned aloud, ‘Is it too late?’
‘I don’t think so,’ Eli replied. ‘But do it soon, mate. For both your sakes.’
After Eli left, Alex went into his office and clicked into his email account. He brought up Annabelle’s address but then his gaze flicked to the phone. His sister, once so lively, was so reserved these days. She preferred a less personal form of communication but this time he needed to hear her voice, and she needed to hear his.
He punched in her quick dial, but when his stomach flipped he disconnected and dropped the phone on the desk. After such a long silence, did he want to do this? Could he bring up the most traumatic night of both their lives and be certain it wouldn’t do more harm than good? What if she confirmed what he’d always feared most? That she hadn’t forgiven him for thrusting her aside. Letting her down.
Just like he’d let Libby down.
His gut churning, Alex fell into the chair and held his brow.
These past weeks, this unease about the past had built until now he felt as if he were drowning. At this moment, it pressed down so heavily he could barely breathe. Even if Annabelle’s reaction was less than accepting, he had to get this off his chest. He had never meant to hurt his sister.
And Libby …?
Setting his jaw, he collected the phone, punched in the quick dial again and, on tenterhooks, waited to hear if Annabelle picked up when she saw his ID.
Six rings. Seven.
A click and then …
‘Alex? Is that you?’
‘Annabelle.’ His pent-up breath came out in a rush. ‘It’s good to hear your voice.’
‘Do you know what time it is? What’s wrong?’
He glanced at the wall clock and cursed under his breath. He hadn’t considered the time difference. She’d be half asleep. His throat tightened. Maybe he ought to phone back.
‘Alex? Are you all right?’
Concern had deepened her tone. If he hung up now, she might be up half the night worrying. This might feel a thousand times more difficult than it should be but, for better or worse, he was committed.
