Desperate to Touch (Hard to Love Book 2)

by W Winters

  Carter nods, running his thumb over his freshly shaven chin, the stubble already starting to show. He’s a beast of a man, dressed up in a tailored suit.

  “My only thought, and something I hope you would consider… if we get rid of Walsh, who will get rid of Marcus?” Carter questions and for a moment, Jase’s head tilts as he considers his brother.

  I’m nodding my head in short, nearly undetectable movements when Carter looks at me. I’ve found companionship with Jase, and friendship with Declan. Carter though has never allowed a step toward anything other than a working relationship. He’s guarded, and until recently, I’d hardly spoken to him in the years I’ve worked for the Cross brothers. He’d be in the room, he’d speak. But not to me. Never to anyone other than his brothers. Guarded is a word that doesn’t do him justice.

  The trust simply isn’t there. I respect that. I understand it more than he knows.

  “You certain there’s nothing you’d like to tell me?” Carter questions. “To tell us?”

  A prickle of unease travels along my skin. Hot and sickening, but I answer calmly and with a no-nonsense tone. “Not a damn thing. If there’s something you’d like to ask, I’ll do as I’ve always done. I’ll tell you whatever you want to know.”

  Declan and Jase are quiet as Carter squares his shoulders and contemplates a moment. “Something’s going on with you,” Carter finally speaks.

  My palms are clammy as I clench and unclench my fists. “If you’re doubting—”

  “You are in this family. I don’t doubt your loyalty or your ability… yet.” Although Carter’s tone is harsh, there’s a softness I haven’t seen from him before. You are in this family.

  I am in no family. I haven’t been for quite some time.

  “Like I said, there’s something going on with you.” As Carter repeats the accusation, Jase leans back against his desk. The skin on his knuckles turns white as he grips the edge of it.

  “Old ghosts,” Carter surmises. “For weeks now.”

  Ever since I saw Laura with Bethany, Jase’s girlfriend. I only nod, swallowing thickly.

  “If something’s going on—”

  “It’s personal,” I reassure him and keep my tone even but without any room for discussion. “It won’t get in the way of anything.”

  “If I’ve noticed the change, Seth… those ghosts are already in the way.”

  Laura

  I’m trying to remember everything Seth said two weeks ago, but all I can hear is Babygirl. All I can feel is the prick at the back of my eyes. He asked me how I thought it would end… that’s right. That aching feeling in my chest returns and I swallow, dry and harsh as I sit in my car. My seatbelt’s off and the constant pinging from the dash is driving me crazy until I pull the keys out of the ignition.

  I begged for his forgiveness while all he did was stare at me through the rearview mirror. I tried to explain, but his gaze remained brutal and unforgiving. I put my hand on his shoulder once, and that was the only time he really looked at me. First my hand, and then into my eyes.

  He wrote down an address, this address. In the note, he told me to come in two weeks—which has felt like forever. And he gave me a time… five minutes from now.

  Don’t make me come for you.

  I read the line noting how quickly my heart beats, then the pause and the sudden shortness of breath. A wave of overwhelming emotions crashed down around me. The thought of him coming for me will always make me feel conflicted. I want to run from him, but I also want him to capture me, to force me to stay. Because I’m selfish, just like my heart is when it ticks and skips like it’s running and it’s out of breath.

  I stopped taking my medication for arrhythmia when I got settled here. My hand instinctively hovers over my chest as the thump, thump, thump goes off beat. With my eyes closed, I breathe in deep and tell it to calm down.

  I haven’t needed a pill in years. Seth King fucks up my heart. No one can tell me otherwise. It’s all his fault.

  Ping.

  Jolting from the buzz on my lap, as I sit in the car outside of the address Seth gave me, I silently scold myself. Calm the fuck down.

  The heat from the vents hits my face and I’m quick to flick the button off. It’s cold for an autumn night, colder than it’s been since March if I remember right, and the wind is unforgiving too.

  With the blush of the sunset on the horizon, I’m close to a moment I knew would come one day. For better or for worse. I’m safe in my car… safe for now.

  It took me twenty-five minutes to drive here. All in silence. That’s all it took. It felt like forever, but forever is over far too quickly now that I’m sitting here staring at the massive house. It’s all old light gray stone with dark blue roofing… the slabs all the way up there look like stone too. It’s hard to tell this late at night though. There are two stories with a wraparound porch. There isn’t a piece of furniture at all outside though. The old Victorian has been cared for. It’s obviously been meticulously maintained, which must take effort given that it’s out here, surrounded by miles and miles of woods.

  Taking my gaze away from the gorgeous house, I read the text and then I have to read it again.

  You want to go out soon?

  My brow furrows, a deep line settling in my forehead.

  My first thought is: what is Cami doing on the East Coast? After all, who else would be texting me?

  A vise tightens around my dry throat. Cami’s dead. Fuck, my head is so messed up.

  It’s been like this since I saw Seth days ago. Since he called me Babygirl. The past has a way of creeping in. All the things once forgotten come back. With the pain lingering in my chest, oh how I wish Cami were here. I wish it were her who sent that text.

  It’s been a long time since I’ve had moments like I’ve been having, where I’ve forgotten about everything that happened when I left. I don’t hold the guilt or any of the fear. In those moments, my mind plays tricks on me to convince me Cami’s still alive, still happy. I’ve only left her on the other side of the country for school and work. It’s a nice thought for a moment, but then my eyes prick with hot tears and the memory of the night I left comes flooding back in a rush.

  I’ll never forget that imagery. I’ll never forget how cold her skin was. Or the feel of her lashes against my fingers when I closed her eyes. I hold my fingers now, willing the sensations to go away.

  My body’s heavy as I fall against the driver seat. Breathe in, breathe out. Just keep breathing.

  Ping. Bethany texts again. She’s not Cami. She’ll never be Cami.

  A new friend to replace me, Cami’s voice whispers in my head and my throat tightens as I read the text Bethany sent: I miss you. I really do.

  I don’t even have time to think about what happened between Bethany and me. I haven’t seen her since she left my apartment, pissed off at me. I did what I had to do. It was a few days after I’d seen Seth. I did what I thought was right.

  I’ll tell her everything. She’ll understand. Some friendships come and go but some, like the one I have with Bethany, are meant to be forever friendships. I want so badly to make it up to Bethany and explain. Just like I want to do with Seth.

  She’ll understand.

  Failure and regret are kneading together in the pit of my stomach. I’ve made so many mistakes. Countless times I’ve prayed and wished that I could just go back so I could do things differently. If only I could have known…

  I miss you too and whenever you want, I’m there. I type out my response and hope she can feel just how much I miss her too.

  Tonight? Bethany’s answer is immediate and my teeth bite into my bottom lip as I suck in a deep breath.

  Dammit. I can’t tonight.

  Tomorrow then? she asks.

  Tomorrow. I respond immediately and then quickly add, I am all yours tomorrow.

  I don’t realize I’m holding my breath until she replies, Can’t wait and I finally exhale.

  I can make things better. I can m
ake them right again. Closing my eyes again, I see Cami’s face. Not everything can be made right.

  With another exhale, I try to shake off the nerves that curl and coil around my insides. Preparing to toss my keys in my bag, the jingle of them is all I can hear other than my wonky heart when I look up and see Seth standing there.

  My heart tumbles over itself at the sight of him. I’ve only seen him in a suit once before. For his father’s funeral. Back then, the suit looked like a hand-me-down. He could have afforded whatever suit he wanted, but he chose a loose black one, with a black tie that was never tight around his throat. The knot hung loose and the second the casket was lowered to the ground, he ripped it off, followed by his jacket. It was snowing that day, but he couldn’t have cared less. He never did like suits.

  It seems that time has changed all that. The expensive cloth is cut perfectly to fit Seth’s broad shoulders. The black is pristine, the cufflinks a detail I’d never envisioned on him. He lifts his arm just slightly, glancing down at his wrist and the shine of a silver watch, or maybe platinum, reflects back at me.

  His clothes are all wrong, all different from what I know about the boy I fell in love with. But his eyes, they’re the same. His stubble and hard jaw, they’re what I remember. His cheekbones seem more defined with how trim he keeps his facial hair and the lines around his eyes are faint, but they tell tales of an older man, not one in his twenties. The look he’s giving me though, with his lips slightly parted, his tongue peeking out just for a moment to wet his bottom lip… it’s reminiscent of before, but just like his clothes, it’s worn differently.

  Skip, trip, thump. He doesn’t stop staring as I take him in. Like he’s waiting for something. My heart responds but I don’t. I’m as still as can be in my seat, feeling the heat the car has stopped providing even without it being on anymore. It engulfs me as Seth’s stare penetrates through everything.

  He doesn’t stand there for long, his large hands clenched into fists at his sides. They unclench and his right smooths down the black pressed suit pants he’s wearing. Irritation grows in his expression, but I’m in no rush to move.

  I hate how he looks at me, but I love that he’s looking at me at all.

  I reach out to the passenger seat without breaking Seth’s gaze before he can open the door himself. He’s hiding from me. Behind those blue eyes, I see nothing anymore. Maybe a hint of lust and a wall of hate, but not him. I don’t see him anymore and it fucking hurts. It’s a jagged rip to my heart.

  Before I step out, I reach behind me for my purse; inside it is the notebook. Only the first one though. I didn’t bring them all.

  As I stand toe to toe with him, swinging the thin black strap of my blush satchel over my shoulder and feeling the gust of wind send a chill down my spine, I close the car door without looking back. The thudding click of it shutting is all I can hear. Even the woods that surround us are silent.

  It’s hard to believe Seth’s right in front of me. The wave of heat from his hard body towering over me is addictive. He’s so close that his scent fills my lungs and it brings memory after memory as I stand breathless in front of him. I could touch him; I know I could.

  He could touch me if he wanted to as well. Neither of us moves though.

  “I told you not to make me come for you.” His deep voice is a low baritone, a threat not so veiled laying within the syllables.

  What was left of the light from the sun is waning and the moon doesn’t provide a damn thing tonight. The shadows come quicker than they have any other night. My God, does the darkness make Seth look even more tempting. Fear is ever present, the unknowing and lack of control driving my anxiety to pump my unbalanced heart harder.

  I pay it all no mind. Seth is here in front of me.

  “Did you hear me?” he asks, although it’s not a question. It’s more a statement of his discontent.

  “I’m sure that’s not what you meant in that note, Seth,” I finally speak, my voice more even than I dreamed it would be. How it comes out so calm and collected, I have no idea.

  Goosebumps line my arms as another gust of wind pushes at my back, gathering my hair and causing it to tumble over my shoulders. I cross my arms as my nipples pebble.

  “I’m here,” I tell him. As if stating the obvious was needed.

  The anger and edge of threat are absent, and the heat in Seth’s eyes roars when he glances down my body and then back to my own wandering gaze.

  Time passes, too much of it, before I break the silence and break our caught stares to say, “I didn’t make you come far, did I?”

  Seth

  She’s here. Laura’s in my grasp. And she’s completely unaffected. I can’t fucking take it. It’s a black hole that whirls around me. Nothingness, yet I’m falling. Hard and fast.

  This gut-wrenching concoction of desire and anger, betrayal and longing… it’s too much. I can’t focus on any one aspect of this moment. Control feels like a concept I can’t grasp as the blood rushing in my ears drowns out everything else.

  Closing my eyes, I inhale long and deep. She is the woman I used to love. When I was someone else. Nothing more. I try to convince myself of that truth.

  Her words linger, confirming the statement.

  I didn’t make you come far, did I?

  Her comment pisses me off more and more with every step I take toward the house. The anger laces with desire. Her smart mouth has always gotten me hard.

  I gently place my splayed hand on her back, to lead her into my house, hiding my eagerness.

  Inside. I need to get her inside.

  I can barely feel her, but I don’t miss how her eyes close at my touch. All it takes is a gentle push and Laura walks fast enough so that I barely have contact with her.

  The soft satin of her red dress caresses my fingertips. I know she’s cold in the thin material. She chose this dress, tight around her ass and low cut, for a reason. Everything she does is for a reason.

  Every step closer to the door, I gather more and more composure. I remember who I am today and not what we had before.

  The past needs to stay where it is. Those ghosts are long gone. Carter’s assessment follows me, hardens me… it warns me to be careful.

  As Laura passes the threshold, I notice her long hair, once naturally dark but now lightened, falling over one shoulder. She peeks over her shoulder but not at me though; instead she looks back to her car. Maybe second-guessing everything, maybe wanting to run. I wonder if she can feel the difference inside of me. I feel it every damn day. I’m highly aware that I’m not the same man she remembers from the past. How could I be? That night changed everything about me.

  When she chose to run, so did something inside of me. And it never came back.

  The clack of the front door closing is followed by the lock clicking into place. Laura’s body shudders at the sound, and I watch closely as her plump lips, colored the same dark red as her dress, part as she sucks in a breath. She may not want to admit I’ve gotten to her, but I damn well know I have.

  She can pretend to be the confident seductress when she looks in the mirror. But I see underneath it all.

  The mix of dark woods and grays, all the masculine clean lines of my home is at complete odds with Laura. She stands out, unable to hide in the neutrals of the open floor plan. She aims to move to the sleek ashen davenport sofa in the living room. Even picking up her pace, turning the air between us businesslike, she takes a few steps forward, only for me to catch her elbow and move her forward, toward the office.

  Her quick glance and questioning gaze are gone as quickly as they came. I couldn’t give two shits where we do this, but she won’t decide it.

  She decided to run from me. To steal from me. She doesn’t get to decide anything else.

  Never fucking again. She doesn’t have a choice.

  I’ve had countless days to plan what I’d say and do. Years ago, back in California. And years here, knowing she was close enough to see with only minutes of driving. Even
as I walk her through the hall and open the carved walnut office door, ushering her inside, the plan is changing.

  Some days it’s a debt owed and I want her to pay me back, however I choose.

  Some moments the hate for her leaving me at my worst is so strong, that I don’t want a damn thing to do with her. I want her to know how close I am, and to know I don’t care enough to seek her out.

  Smelling her sweet scent, and listening to the steady beat of her heels clicking against the wood, part of me wants to charm her, to beg for her forgiveness and offer her the world. I could give her that. Everything is different now. That part comes with something else. It starts as an inkling of sorrow, but it’s quick to spread, like oil slicking across the water. It’s thin, but covers every inch in blackness. I want to beg her to love me again. I want her to see how wrecked I was. How I feel like nothing without her. I am nothing anymore, but why would she want me? Why the hell would she ever come back?

  She makes me weak.

  “Your home is lovely,” Laura comments politely with her slender back to me as I shut the office door. Both of her hands grip the strap of her purse, giving away the nerves she’s hiding. “The inside isn’t like the outside… it’s so modern and open.”

  I’m different; I know I am, but so is she. We’re nothing like we used to be. I assess her as she appraises my office. Taking in the rows of books, organized by date of publication. I collect the rare ones because I like the way they smell and look, but I haven’t read them. I don’t intend to either.

  Her footsteps are gentler in this room and the angular edges of her dress seem to soften as I watch her move from one end of my small office to the other. Her footsteps are muted although it’s hardwood beneath her heels. She’s walking more carefully, with more hesitation.