“I’m afraid that if I give a man my heart he’ll rip it out just like my father did.” I slapped my hand over my mouth and stood up, repulsed by my admission. What was happening to me? “Men don’t want my heart. They want my body. But I think James might want both and it terrifies me. I can’t give him both. I don’t even know how.”
“Becca.” She exhaled. “Your father was a monster. He was the first man you knew and unfortunately he didn’t set a good example. But you did a fantastic job raising your sister and raising yourself. I think it’s time you let him go. Otherwise he’s going to keep ruining you. He’s making your decisions right now. He might be stealing your one chance at happiness. He’s stolen enough from you already—your childhood, your security, and your trust. Don’t let him steal this too.”
I couldn’t simply let my parents go. I moved on and created a life without them, but they’d been in Rain’s and my life for far longer than they’d been out of it. What truly prevented me was the fact that they were still out there. They never tried to get Rain and me back after social services took us when we were teenagers. When we ran away and began living on our own, our parents were nowhere to be found. I didn’t know where they were, but we were always here, in Jacksonville. It had been almost ten years since I’d seen them and not once had they attempted to locate us. I should be the one leaving them behind, not the other way around.
Lately working around things seemed harder than I wanted to deal with. My strength seemed better put to other blue-eyed, soul-sucking places.
“You hear me?”
“Yes, Claire. I heard you.” I went over to the mantel, staring at pictures of a young Max and Claire. It made me smile. They were a few years older than me; Max was thirty and Claire twenty-seven. In this picture Max was probably twenty. His hair was longer and his smile was aimed at Claire, whose hair was its natural color, more brown than black. His warm brown eyes, though happy when they were on Claire, were still somewhat sad. Max never talked about his past, but I knew it existed. It existed for everyone.
“That’s our first picture together.” Claire’s voice had a smile. “Doesn’t he look shy? He was so afraid to love me when we met. Damn man insisted he wasn’t good enough for me. Look at us now, Becca. He’s my king. Imagine if I let his fears win. Where would I be? Probably dating some rich prick like my parents wanted me to. I know what you’re feeling, girl. Letting everything go is scary. But letting everything you could have go because you’re afraid is far worse. You hear that too?”
“I heard that too.”
“Where is he?”
I pictured Tess and cringed. “Probably realizing she’s better.”
“Who? Not that it matters. She’s not better. You’re pretty damn special, Becca. Since when do you doubt that?”
“It’s no different than Kent and Raina. I think I might be Kent.” I plopped down on her couch and grabbed the popcorn, shoving my mouth full as pieces spilled to the floor. “And I’m not doubting me. It’s true.”
“Call him.”
“I can’t.”
“Stop saying you can’t. Call him. Maybe you can go over there and talk. Tell him how you feel. This way you know what to do. Either you move on or you both admit this might mean something more.”
I may as well get it all out. “James is deaf. I can’t just call him. For us to talk I have to be in the same room with him. I can’t hide if we’re in the same room together.” Never mind that I wanted to hide at all. “And our conversations usually end in us hooking up, anger, or sadness.”
She looked up in surprise, working her bottom lip between her teeth. Then she shrugged. “Then go over and talk to him. Write it down. Learn sign language. Buy one of those planes that write words in the air. I think your fear is so strong it’s clouding your mind. It’s making it so you can’t think clearly. Max can get like that sometimes because of his past. You should have seen him when I found out I was pregnant.”
That surprised me. Max seemed so excited. “What happened?”
“Max thinks he isn’t good enough for happiness. He still thinks he’s unworthy and he also doubts his ability to be a good father.”
“That’s ridiculous. He’ll make an incredible father. He’s so gentle and loving. Smack some sense into him.”
She smiled sadly. “He’ll get over it. Now, tell me more about this hunk. Do you have a picture?”
Hunk. “I’m sure he’d resent that description.” I cleared my throat uncomfortably. “No picture. He lives with Kent. I talked to Kent and I’ve been staying at his place until he and Raina get home from Tampa. We still have two weeks together.” I was both excited by the idea and horrified. Two more weeks of that man and I’d never be the same.
She winked. “How’s the sex?”
“We haven’t technically had sex.”
“Whoa. Is Becca actually taking her time?”
“Did you just call me a slut?”
She shrugged. “If the thigh-highs fit.”
I laughed. “I do look good in thigh-highs.”
“You haven’t had sex with him. You must really like him.”
“Sure,” I agreed offhandedly. “Can I sleep here tonight? I’ll go back in the morning.” And let James be.
I had to let that man be, because Claire was wrong. Letting your past go did not eliminate your fear. Fear entered your blood at some point. It flowed to your heart, hardening it, protecting it. Fear saved you from more hurt.
“Of course.” She pushed to her feet and yawned, scooping up the empty pickle jar and chocolate sauce. “I’ll get you a blanket and pillows. If you leave before I get up, I want you to know something.” She paused in the opening to the living room, hands full. “You’re one of the toughest women I know. Strength is beautiful. But strength doesn’t mean you have to be a hard ass. Strength is being strong enough to be weak sometimes. You hear that?”
“I heard that.” When she returned a few minutes later with a pillow and a blanket I nestled down.
She bent over and kissed my forehead. “Love you, Bec.”
I smiled softly. “Love you too, Claire. Don’t name your baby Maxaire.”
She laughed all the way out the room, turning off lights as she went. “Can’t hear you. Leaving.”
That poor kid didn’t stand a chance.
I expected sleep to be hard. Instead I closed my eyes and welcomed it. My mind needed the break. It hadn’t stopped going for weeks. From the moment I found out Raina had a thing for Kent my world had been uneasy. I think a part of me knew she was leaving me even then. She was growing up and starting a life without me. I never should have gone to art school. Leaving her on her own presented the opportunity for someone else to move in and take my place. That someone just so happened to be a rehabilitated manwhore named Kent Nicholson.
I bolted upright in bed when I woke up. It used to happen a lot when I was a kid. In my dreams Dad wasn’t hitting Mom. He was hitting me. Maybe that was next. I’d never know how far my father would have gone. I sat back and calmed my breathing, staring at Claire and Max’s new living room. It was so…normal. No edgy biker tattoo badass-ness I was used to. Even they were leaving me behind. Everyone was moving forward. I was stuck in the past by myself. I’d never done anything because everyone else was doing it. I didn’t think that would work this time.
I was losing myself slowly but surely. Not knowing who I was would eventually force me to figure it out. I wasn’t sure I’d like the answer I constructed.
After folding the blanket and returning it to the hall closet, I didn’t waste any time getting out of there. The sun was beginning to rise as I walked home. My anxiety increased the closer I got to the apartment. I could do this. He was one man. I was one woman. The odds were in my favor. By the time I got to the apartment I was sweating and starving. I climbed the stairs and knocked on the door so Josh would answer.
When he did, I shoved past his body and cocky smile and stopped short. James was in the kitchen with his back to me
. Shirtless. Why did he have to be shirtless? I mean, come on! His lean, broad back stretched as he reached for a coffee mug on the top shelf.
“He got in late last night,” Josh whispered in my ear.
“I’m going to go take a shower.” I shoved him again and stomped past the kitchen hurriedly.
James turned around just as I passed the counter. When he saw me he was more than surprised. Raw, open relief painted his face. There was no mistaking how he felt. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. When they opened again I realized I was standing there staring at him, waiting for it. This time when our eyes locked I let myself imagine it always being this way, looking at a man who might be worth my fear. The one man who not only silenced the loneliness in my heart but made me want to forget it altogether.
James set his mug down and came for me. His blue pajama pants draped off his hips enticingly. He grabbed my wrist gently, yet with purpose, and pulled me down the hall to his bedroom.
The moment we were alone he grabbed my face and stared into my eyes. I imagined his hands reaching inside and ripping out my heart. He would take it, dripping blood and still pulsing, and hold it over my head while I jumped to reach it, wanting it back because I didn’t know who I was without it. My ground shook but I felt for the first time as long as James held on I’d be fine.
“You’re not leaving me again. Do you hear me, Becca? You’re not going anywhere.”
The sound of his voice shocked me to my core. It was deep, gruff, and raw. It vibrated out of him like a roar, growling his feelings.
And then James Rush took my mouth like it was his.
Because it was.
It was his.
Even if I tore away from him and ran forever my lips would remember how his felt for every kiss that came after it.
I couldn’t keep up with this kiss if I tried. His lips were soft and warm, tasting strongly of toothpaste and him. His tongue wrapped around mine possessively. Every stroke of it, every brush of his lips, portrayed how he felt. I lost myself in this man, pliant and wanting.
He backed us up until I was pressed against his door. My purse fell from my shoulder and I used the freedom to wrap my arms around his body. I moaned deeply when his tongue increased its pressure, owning the inside of my mouth. I wasn’t my own in that moment. I was his. My fear reared its ugly head. Let him go. You can’t let a man own you. When men own they destroy. But it was like James could hear my thoughts. He let my face go and slid his hands down my body, over my hips, and then moved behind to grip tight handfuls of my ass. He lifted me up and I brought my legs around his waist, letting him have me.
“I need you,” he whispered against my lips.
In response I grabbed a fistful of his hair and tilted his head to the side, locking our kiss in place. I need you too, I thought wildly. I felt wild.
I could say anything to him. To prevent that I kissed this man as hard as I could. He walked our entangled bodies until he fell onto his bed, leaving me straddling him. From this position I regained some power. It turned this into a different game. I slowed my kiss so I could taste every inch of his mouth. As I did I felt his body, down his abs, over his chest, soaking up his heat. His hands kneaded my ass, pulling me against the hard, excited mound between us.
As much as I wanted this, I was still uncertain about so much. It was as if we were breathing truth into things we hadn’t actually admitted. That was fine. I wasn’t ready yet either. But our premature admission was enough to remind me that maybe sex wasn’t the right option for how I felt. It was a strange feeling to want someone so much and know having them would only demand more. This time sex meant something other than release. This wasn’t a game anymore.
I couldn’t keep doing this.
I lifted onto his lap and braced myself against his chest. Tears filled my eyes.
James wrapped his arms around my waist and pulled me down on his body. I burrowed against him, finding all of the comfortable spots. I had to figure out who I was. Either I was Raina’s strong, impenetrable older sister who had tattoos and used men because she could, because deep down she was lonely—who I’d always been—or I was someone I didn’t know. Someone who could be anyone she wanted. The infinite possibility filled me with unprecedented terror.
Learning to be another person felt impossible.
James enclosed me in his arms, holding me as I sobbed like a two-year-old. The terror took its time to pick me bare. When my tears had stopped I noticed he changed his bed. If he’d come home late like Josh hinted, why would he do that? I popped up and met his eyes.
“You talked.”
“You didn’t run away,” he teased, but his eyes were unflinchingly serious.
The sound of his voice did things to me, but it also made me suspicious. “Why are you talking now?”
He looked away as he answered. “Because you came back.”
I gently grabbed his face and pulled him so he could read my lips. “Tess?” His talking felt forced. He was tense. His words were stilted. It could be because he hardly used them, but I sensed he had ulterior motives.
“I don’t want to talk about her, Becca.”
Becca on his lips made every nerve ending in my body come alive. “Again,” I ordered, pronouncing each word fluidly. “Say my name again.”
His sharp blue eyes locked on mine. “Becca.”
His deep unfamiliar voice turned my name into something new. It made me think of the part of me I didn’t know. She could be this Becca. And though the idea still terrified me, the fact that James had spoken occupied my mind. I pushed away from his body and rolled out of bed, pacing his room back and forth. Why is he talking now? What would make a man who refused to talk suddenly verbose? What happened between Tess and James last night? I whirled around in the middle of my pacing and met his eyes from across his room.
He looked…different. His eyes were distant and yet stuck on me. They were a heavy oppressive heat that warmed my body and left me aware of his presence as I paced. If I looked in the mirror my own would be identical. Wide, confused eyes. Flushed face and parted lips. Heavy breaths and anxious movements. It dawned on me that perhaps James was feeling the exact same thing I was. Then that meant…then he…was feeling this?
Fear gripped my throat. I resumed walking. I needed movement, action, something that directed my thoughts elsewhere. I was glad I had to work tonight. A shift at Second Chances might remind me who I was. Or prove that girl vanished the day Rain met Kent.
“I don’t know who I am anymore.” I stopped at the foot of his bed and stared, raking my eyes over his body. From his current position his pajamas were pulled low, revealing the top of his pelvis. He was propped up on his elbows, expression still visibly unsettled. We had to talk. Any longer and I was going to explode. I searched his room for his tablet. When I located it, I kicked off my boots and crawled to sit beside him, unlocking his screen. Our last conversation was still open, taunting me.
Isn’t this what you wanted? My mind ridiculed. No emotions? No strings?
A brief image flashed through my mind. James, flawless in a black suit, Tess, angelic in a white dress. “I do,” James would profess, because I wanted no strings. I was so afraid of feeling the pain my father caused me ever again I would lose the one man who could stabilize my breaking ground. But it wasn’t like that pain was easy. The abuse I witnessed, watching my father beat my mother, scream at my sister, scream at me, leave us starving for weeks, alone with no way to school, no hugs, no love—that damaged a part of me irrevocably. My strength was earned and it protected me, but it was also impenetrable. Even I couldn’t break through it.
If I didn’t figure out how to break through, James would move on. Without me.
Seriously. Since when did I cry so much? I wiped my tears and typed in my words, both uncomfortable and comfortable under his scrutiny.
I’d like to change our arrangement.
I handed it off to him and forced myself to ignore him as he completed his reply. I coul
dn’t sit still. I repositioned my body, crossing my legs on his bed. He set the tablet on my lap once he’d finished.
You can have whatever you want from me, Becca. I think you know that by now.
His answer had hidden drawers and spaces. He meant more and I knew it. It was up to me to acknowledge it.
I did.
What do you want, James?
He read my question and then looked up at me.
“You.”
My hand trembled as I wrote my response.
I want you too.
I did it. For the first time in my life, I admitted I wanted a man. Not for escape. Not for revenge. Not for sex or for any of the other reasons that had kept me going for my entire life. I wanted James because he was the one man who made me want to break my own rules. I’d known it since I met him. I feared him, what he stood for, because deep down inside I knew he was going to be responsible for my vicious demise. He hadn’t even tried. He’d just been himself. His sexy, intoxicating, perfect self.
I waited for the clouds to open up; for hands to reach down and rip him from me. My anxiety was so strong it made me shake. I realized how truly horrible that idea was. Perhaps want was an inappropriately inadequate example. But want would have to do. Fear was gross and unforgiving and it did not go away just because you had something worth forgetting it for. If anything, that made fear stronger.
Don’t leave again. I’ll stop talking to Tess. I won’t sleep with anyone else. I’ll be whatever you need me to be. Just don’t leave. Everyone leaves.
Our energy crackled between us, close to colliding. When my pain mixed with his we would both explode.
I don’t want to leave. Trust me, I don’t. Who left you?
He stared at the tablet for a long time before he responded.
My Vicious Demise (Demise #2) Page 18
