Captivate Me

by Kira Sinclair

  It had been years since she’d felt like a shadow. But with a few choice words, Beckett had managed to make her feel that way all over again.

  And she hated that sickening, helpless sensation.

  For a brief moment she thought about telling him. Throwing it in his face and watching his reaction. Would he be embarrassed? Horrified? Or unapologetic?

  But she really didn’t want to know. Because whatever his reaction was, she’d have to deal with it. And she wasn’t sure what she hoped for.

  “Are you going to stop this nonsense with the loan?” she asked, her words a little strangled.

  Beckett’s jaw tightened, his teeth grinding together. “I can’t.”

  She tried to will back the disappointment but couldn’t quite manage it. Once again, she didn’t matter. At least, not more than what Beckett wanted.

  Pulling at the shreds of her defenses, Alyssa found the cool shell of indifference that had protected her so often in the past. Schooling her features, she scooted away from the wall. Beckett moved to grab for her. Rather than scuffle with him for control of her own body, she stared down at the spot where his hand had landed on her arm. And waited.

  After several seconds, he jerked away. His hand dropped to his side, curling into a tight fist.

  Dragging her gaze up to his, she forced words through suddenly numb lips. “I can’t do this, Beckett.”

  Then she pushed the door open and walked away.

  9

  HE SHOULD LET her go. It would be better if he did—for both of them. But he couldn’t.

  The pressure building in his chest was unbearable. Restless energy consumed him and goaded him on. He tried to convince himself it was sexual—one taste of her wasn’t nearly enough. But it was more.

  He wanted to...know her. Uncover the significance of the tattoo inked onto her skin and find out where that tinge of sadness lodged deep in her pale-green eyes came from.

  Not that getting her alone so he could indulge in her body for hours wasn’t also high on the priority list. The way she’d lost herself, become completely oblivious to everything but the two of them, had been sexy as hell.

  Even as his brain told his feet to stay put, he was already halfway across the balcony after her.

  As he pushed through the crowd, flashes of blue, purple and black, and the taunting glimpse of her skin kept him moving forward. He wasn’t going to catch her, not with the crush of people between them, but that was okay. He knew where she was headed.

  Exiting the building, he saw the car he’d hired pulling away from the curb. He signaled the valet for his own car and raced after them.

  When he got to her neighborhood, he parked and wove his way on foot toward her building. He had no idea why. Maybe just to make sure she was okay. Or because the hurt that had flashed through her eyes before that infernal mask dropped over her face made apprehension twist painfully in his gut.

  Something was wrong. Seriously wrong. But he couldn’t put his finger on just what it was.

  The logical choice was her anger that he’d hidden his identity, but something told him there was more. Her misery had come several minutes after that revelation.

  This overwhelming need to protect her was more than he could ignore. He wanted to keep her safe, make sure nothing ever battered or bruised her again—including his own actions.

  Which is how he found himself back in the darkness of the alley beside her apartment, looking up at the window that had sent his life spiraling out of control. He registered the soft pool of light spilling out.

  Going to the metal stairs screwed into the old brick across from her apartment, Beckett climbed up to the balcony he’d stood on before. Yes, he was trespassing. Hell, he couldn’t even remember the name of the man who owned the property.

  What had Alyssa Vaughn done to him?

  Not even that rational thought could stop the pounding of his feet against metal. Slipping back into the same shadows that had hidden him a few days earlier, Beckett settled against the railing and looked into Alyssa’s bedroom once more.

  Part of him was disappointed to see she’d already taken off the costume. Instead, she wore a slip of a nightgown that clung to her body in a soft column that hit just below her knees. A soft green that matched her eyes, the thing was held up by two wide straps edged in lace. It was feminine, sexy and demure all at the same time.

  Exactly the kind of thing he’d envisioned her sleeping in.

  Moving around the room, he watched Alyssa hang up the dress he’d given her. Filmy fabric rained down from a padded hanger. Her hands smoothed the material, as if she was reluctant to let it go.

  He’d half expected to find her tossing the thing in the trash. Or burning it. The fact that she was hanging on to it gave him hope.

  Before he could stop and think about what he was doing, he lifted his phone and punched in her number.

  Her head jerked sideways. She paused, dropped the fabric from her hands and took several cautious steps to the dresser.

  Her neck curved and stretched as she craned to see the display on her cell. He knew it would say unknown, but hoped she’d answer anyway.

  Her hesitation lasted until her voice mail kicked on. Ending the call, he immediately rang again.

  Alyssa’s forehead wrinkled with confusion, but it was enough to make her answer.

  Without waiting for her greeting, Beckett said, “Turn around.”

  Even across the distance between them, he could see the shudder that rocked her body. Slowly, she pivoted.

  Moving out of the shadows, he let her see him. No more masks. Or lies. Or secrets.

  Her pink tongue swept across her soft lips. “Why are you calling me? Why are you standing on that balcony?”

  “Those questions don’t have the same answer.”

  “So give me both.”

  Beckett’s hand flexed around the hard edge of his phone. He wasn’t sure what he’d wanted to say to her when he’d made the damn call. This was a bad idea. But now that he’d started it...

  “I wanted to make sure you got home okay. It was the least I could do considering the circumstances.”

  “Oh, no, you don’t,” she said, her voice grim and determined. “You don’t get to act the protective, considerate hero.”

  “I’m far from hero material.”

  “Trust me, I’m well aware of that.”

  Her words shouldn’t have stung, but they did.

  “So, why the call?”

  “Because I need to understand, Alyssa. What could I possibly have done to you?”

  Shaking her head, she sank to the bench at the end of her bed. Dropping her head into her hand, she rubbed at her eyes. But she didn’t take the phone away from her ear.

  He heard her tired sigh.

  Finally, she answered. “We’ve met before. A long time ago.”

  Her words sent a spike of apprehension through his belly. Had he slept with her and not remembered? No. Not possible. He would definitely remember getting his hands on that lithe little body.

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Twelve years ago. At a party.”

  “God, you must have been an infant.”

  Her gaze jerked up at him, a grimace twisting her mouth and anger flashing through her eyes. “Seventeen. Well, not quite seventeen.”

  Beckett sucked a hard breath through his teeth. The pale green glitter of her eyes slayed him. They held hurt, disappointment and something much sharper. The damage of betrayal.

  What the hell had he done to this girl?

  She looked down at the floor in front of her, and he should have felt relief at the loss of all that churning emotion focused on him. He didn’t. He wanted her gaze back. Wanted that emotion. Was willing to suffer through the pressing
weight of it to keep the connection.

  Right now it was the only thing he had from her.

  “I was furious that night. My stepmother had started some trouble with my father. Nothing new, but I was fed up, tired of taking the verbal punches. I’d just gotten a lecture about promiscuity and image.” She let out a bitter laugh, the sound taking on a broken, tinny quality. “As a Vaughn, I had a reputation to uphold. My behavior was a reflection on the family, my father, stepmother and little sister. People were talking and he wouldn’t have that.”

  Her fingers rubbed against the bridge of her nose. “If they were talking it was only because Bridgett was feeding her friends lies about me. Hell, I was a virgin, and until that night hadn’t even tasted alcohol, let alone taken a hit from a joint or snorted coke.

  “Hell, you know.” Her bitter gaze cut to him from beneath her lashes. “Drugs were easy to find in our school. Lots of bored rich kids with money to burn. I could have done it, but I hadn’t. Maybe I should have. It probably would’ve made those last few years at home easier to take. But I was too wrapped up in making my daddy proud. In winning his approval and love and attention.”

  A strangled sound wheezed down the line. Beckett’s fingers clamped hard around the phone. He wanted to reach out and touch her. Soothe her. But he couldn’t. And something told him that even if he’d been close enough to wrap her hard in his arms she wouldn’t have accepted the gesture.

  “When that guy put GHB in my drink, it was the first time in my life I’ve ever been high. How pathetic is that?”

  “Not at all,” Beckett assured her. “Trust me, there’s a reason they call it being wasted.”

  She laughed, the sound broken and wrong.

  “Anyway, I’d had enough that night. I was tired of playing the perfect daughter and being yelled at for things I hadn’t even done. I was a hormone-laden teenager, just like the rest of my friends. I’d spent a hell of a lot of time reading about sex and love. I wanted to experience it for myself. If they were going to call me a slut, I was going to earn the title. I went to that party intent on getting drunk and screwing the first guy who caught my eye.”

  Slowly, her gaze rose to collide with his. He knew what she was going to say before her mouth even opened. And his stomach took a nasty, lazy roll of premonition and self-disgust.

  God, he hoped he was wrong. But he didn’t think he was. “Me,” he breathed.

  “You,” she confirmed. “It didn’t take much to get me drunk. A couple of beers and I was well on my way to being smashed. Then you and your friends walked in the door. Someone told me you guys had graduated several years before.” Her mouth twisted into a grimace. “The lure of older guys. You were exactly the kind of man my father had been railing at me about. Wild, dangerous, definitely a bad choice for a good girl. Perfect for what I wanted.”

  God, he didn’t even remember the specific party she was talking about, but he wasn’t surprised. They were all variations on a theme. The place, season and sometimes people changed, but nothing else. Not really.

  They’d all come from the same background, money, prestige and power. Even as teenagers they’d realized those things opened doors, meant transgressions would be forgiven and sins wiped clean.

  He’d been straddling two worlds, no longer belonging in that one, but unable to give it up completely. Not when his friends all still wallowed in that existence.

  “I knew all about you getting kicked out. Everyone did. It was the topic of conversation for months. Maybe that’s one of the reasons I was drawn to you. It felt like we had something in common. We danced. I came on to you. Before I realized what was happening we were upstairs in a room by ourselves.”

  Closing his eyes, he dropped his head back and said, “God, please tell me I didn’t do something stupid. Hurt you. Push you.” Surely to God he’d remember something like that. He’d never coerced reluctant girls before, but he’d obviously been wasted beyond belief if he didn’t even remember having Alyssa in his arms. Twelve years was a long time, but...

  Hysterical laughter slammed into his ear. His eyes popped open, and his gaze crossed the alley and found her. Alyssa was crumpled over, an arm wrapped tight around her middle and her forehead pressed against her knees.

  Beckett stood there, staring at her, helpless and lost. His body tightened and his muscles tingled with the need to do something. But he had no idea what.

  “Oh, God,” she finally rasped out. “No. Actually, that might have been better. You barely even kissed me. I was spread out across a bed with your tongue in my ear when I whispered I was a virgin. You jerked back like I’d burned you. Stared down at me with this mixture of horror and trepidation...like I might be contagious.”

  Slowly, her body uncoiled from the protective, defensive position she’d folded into. Without looking at him, she collapsed back onto the bed, throwing her free arm wide and staring up at the ceiling above her.

  The nightgown she’d put on crept up her thighs, showing him the creamy expanse of skin. With her knees bent, her legs swung—the bed high enough that her feet couldn’t quite touch the floor. In that moment she looked exactly like the innocent girl she was telling him about.

  And he wanted to go back to that night and change whatever he’d done to hurt her.

  “And, you know, I might have been able to get over you just walking away from me. I mean, I was pretty used to being dismissed, ignored and unwanted by that point. What really hurt were the rumors that were circulating by Monday morning. Apparently, I wasn’t worth screwing, not even to get your hands on my money.” Her head lifted, green eyes finally meeting his. “And everyone knew how desperate you were to get your hands on money back then.”

  Beckett’s mouth went dry. He should say something, but what?

  “I don’t remember,” he finally whispered into the charged silence.

  “I know,” she said, her lips twisting in pain.

  He didn’t remember, although, he had a vague memory of Mason pointing out a pretty little girl to him and suggesting she was an awkward, shy heiress who’d probably be easy pickings.

  He couldn’t remember his exact response, but he was certain it had been something along the lines of “piss off.” He needed money, but even he wasn’t willing to stoop to that level. Especially considering his father had basically married into his first millions and then proceeded to make his mother’s life hell. There was no way he’d considered that option, even for a second.

  He’d wanted—needed—to earn his own way, which was exactly what he’d done.

  Beckett’s stomach churned. He parted his lips to say...something. Anything that would fix the past. But there was no way to do that.

  “Shit!” he shouted, slamming his palm down on the smooth surface of the railing. She didn’t react to his outburst at all, simply rose calmly from the bed with a lithe grace that was inherently sexy and silently called him all kinds of asshole.

  “Alyssa, I’m sorry,” he whispered, the quiet words blasting through the space between them.

  She just shook her head. For the second time in less than a week she walked toward the window as he watched, soft light surrounding her luscious body. He couldn’t tear his gaze away from her expression. The disappointment and resolve.

  When she reached out to her side he knew exactly what she was going to do—shut him out again.

  “Wait. Don’t,” he begged. “Let me in.”

  He meant her apartment, but the moment she looked at him, her eyes full of regret and apprehension, he realized she took the words to mean something completely different.

  She swallowed and whispered, “I can’t.”

  * * *

  ALYSSA SPENT THE next two days in a fog. Her body was sore, twinging in places that forced her to remember exactly what had happened between her and Beckett on that balcony—the one at the ball and
the one outside her bedroom.

  She was the one who’d shut him out. It was her decision. So why did it hurt so much?

  Part of her kept waiting for word that he’d decided not to call the loan due, but it never came. She was waiting for a grand, romantic gesture that was never coming.

  Of course it wasn’t. All her life, she’d come in second. Or third or fourth. Behind her mother’s memory, her stepmother, her sister.

  Why would she ever, for one moment, think Beckett would choose her? She was stupid for even entertaining the thought. They’d had sex, once.

  Unfortunately, that didn’t stop his silence from hurting.

  The decision was no more than she’d come to expect from the hard, ruthless Beckett Kayne she’d thought she knew from so long ago. But the sensual, powerful, considerate man who’d held her as her body broke into a million tiny pieces of pleasure and then followed her home to make sure she was safe, even after she’d verbally attacked him...that man, the one she wanted desperately to be real, wouldn’t have left her alone and hurting like this.

  Plans were moving ahead with Vance Eaton on purchasing their tourism app. They were close to inking the deal. In fact, they had a meeting in two days to sign the paperwork. In the meantime, she’d agreed to attend a charity event so they could finish the last negotiations on friendly turf.

  Tuxes, pretty dresses and flowing champagne always made business more pleasurable, anyway. The better everyone’s mood, the easier this would be.

  Which was why she found herself, for the second time in a week, donning killer heels. At least this time she had a bit more coverage in a strapless gold dress that skimmed her body and made her skin glow. She’d dressed up more in one week than she had in the past year. Thank God this would all be over soon.

  She slipped into her practical, comfortable, late-model sedan, heading off to a plantation on the outskirts of town. If a part of her wished for a moment to have the sleek power of a car like Beckett’s beneath her hands, there was nothing for it. Maybe someday she could afford that kind of impractical luxury, but right now...she didn’t need the outward trappings to be happy or successful.