by Cynthia Eden
But she didn’t walk away. The scent of lavender lingered in the air. “You’re mad at me?”
His hands clenched into fists. “Mad doesn’t cover it. Try pissed off. Enraged. So shit-faced furious I can barely breathe.”
“Why?” Her hand was on his shoulder. “I saved your life!” Now she sounded angry, too.
He didn’t turn back to look at her. Her touch seemed to burn right through him. “I don’t want you hurting because of me.” Not ever. Jay pulled in a deep breath. He was trying so hard to make things up to her, but he was failing at every turn.
“Would it have been better to let you die?” Her voice rose a bit. “Because that sounds like a terrible plan to me. We both know I’m the indestructible one. We both know—”
“You should go to bed, Willow.” His voice was guttural.
She didn’t stop touching him. “Why aren’t you looking at me?”
Because he was fighting to keep his control in place. Fear and fury had merged inside of him. His emotions were never in full check when she was near. And he kept thinking about their kiss. About the way she’d gone wild when he’d tasted her.
When he’d touched her, even though her blood had been on his hands.
Jay glanced down at his hands. Saw his clenched fists. The cops had taken his clothes. Bagged them as evidence. He’d even had to give them Willow’s ball gown. Now Jay wore jeans. A t-shirt. And the thin t-shirt was no barrier to him. He swore he could feel her touch right against his skin. “Stop.”
“Stop what?” She’d inched even closer. “Why won’t you look at me?”
“You should stop touching me.”
She sucked in a sharp breath. “I’m sorry.” Her hand jerked back.
He finally turned toward her. Saw that she’d paled. Her eyes were—what the hell? Was Willow about to cry? He reached for her, but she immediately backed up.
“I forgot,” Willow said. A tear leaked down her cheek. “I forgot, but you didn’t. You don’t ever forget, do you?”
He had no clue what she was talking about.
Willow lifted her hands and stared down at her fingers. “I touch and I make people afraid. Make those terrible fears that lurk inside seem to turn into reality. I wonder what it was like before. When I could touch someone and nothing would happen? When I could just be normal?”
“I’m not fucking afraid when you touch me.” His voice was low. Angry.
Her gaze flew up to his. “But you told me to stop touching you.”
Not because he’d been afraid. “Because I want you.”
She shivered.
“You understand that, Willow? I want you. And it’s not some easy, controlled attraction. I crave you. When you touch me, my control nearly shatters. You’re not ready for what I want. Hell, you made it clear last night that you didn’t want me—”
“Not true.”
He blinked at her denial. In the elevator, she’d been the one to stop him. Because she couldn’t ever get past what he’d done with Lazarus.
“I kissed you before, didn’t I?” Red tinged her cheeks.
She had kissed him, but—“You’d just woken up from the dead.” His jaw hardened. “Your emotions were out of control. You weren’t yourself.”
“Hard to be yourself when you don’t really know who that is.” Her weak smile nearly broke his heart. “Am I the monster? The killer?”
“Willow…”
“The damsel in distress? The fighter? The lover? The traitor? All of the above and everything in between?”
His back teeth were clenched so hard that his jaw ached. “You’re a woman, Willow. A beautiful, smart, strong woman.”
Her gaze slid from his.
Fuck me. “We’ve been over this. I’m the one who pumped the money into Lazarus. You said it yourself.” He waved toward the door. “Go upstairs. Go to bed, Willow. You don’t want to be close to me right now.” He was trying to warn her, while he still could. His need for Willow was far too strong.
She turned away from him and slowly made her way to the door. Before leaving, though, she paused. “I know what you did. All your secrets.”
No, she only thought that she knew them all.
“And, Jay, I don’t want you fucking me because you feel sorry for me.”
He laughed. Actually just burst into laughter.
Willow spun back toward him, her blue eyes flaring wide. “Are you laughing at me?”
“Oh, sweetheart, you have that so wrong.” He shook his head, but Jay’s smile lingered. “Let’s be clear. I want to fuck you because you’re the sexiest woman I’ve ever met. You star in every single dream I have. I look at you, and I ache.” He exhaled and rolled back his shoulders. “Sorry isn’t what I feel for you. You can stop worrying about that.”
He saw the surprise appear on her face. Her expression softened. Her breath hitched. She took a step toward him.
If she touches me again, I won’t be able to stop. “Go upstairs.” Now his smile was gone. “Because you’re still riding an adrenaline high. I don’t want you doing something that you’ll regret or something that you want to take back.” His gaze didn’t leave her face. “Because if I ever do have you, once won’t cut it for me. Fair warning.”
She didn’t move. Neither did he. The tension seemed to stretch between them. All he wanted was to take her into his arms. To take her. And because he wanted that so badly—“Good night, Willow.” His voice was almost tender, a supreme struggle. “I’ll be here in the morning when you wake up.”
“You always say that,” she murmured. “Such a strange thing.” Her hand pushed back her hair. “I don’t know why that makes me feel safe.”
Even during the early days when he’d been trying to figure out if she was the enemy or if she could be trusted, he’d always left her with those words.
Good night, Willow. I’ll be here in the morning when you wake up.
“When I woke up in the lab, I was strapped to the exam table. Naked. I screamed because men and women in white coats were all around me.”
Jay was rooted to the spot.
“I begged for them to let me go. I begged for someone to help me. But no one did. I woke up alone every single morning in that lab.”
He hated her pain. I did this. Of course, she’ll never want to be with me. I’m her monster. I’m the one she hates.
Willow’s gaze swept over the room. Then came back to linger on him. “I’m glad you’re close when I wake up now.”
What?
Willow swallowed. “Good night.”
She walked away, and Jay knew he was going to need another whiskey.
***
The attack had been caught on camera. And the video was released everywhere, playing all across the Internet, on every celebrity news show in the world.
After all, Jay Maverick was a major public figure.
A fucking big deal.
“And in my way,” Wyman Wright muttered as he stared at the computer screen. He could see Jay Maverick’s face so clearly on the screen. The guy had scooped up the unidentified woman, his “companion” as the news dubbed her. Jay held her so tightly, and the fear on the fellow’s face was plain to see.
Wyman knew the identity of Jay’s mysterious companion. She’s my Willow.
Willow had been shot. Her blood had spilled on the ground.
Wyman wondered if she’d died in the limo. He didn’t know because the car had raced from the scene. Jay had taken her away.
For the moment.
But Wyman would get her back. And he’d make Jay Maverick pay for what he’d done.
***
Doing the right thing was freaking hard.
Jay stared into the flames. Willow had gone to bed over an hour ago. He’d wanted nothing more than to follow her upstairs. But he hadn’t.
He’d been the gentleman. Even though he could still taste her. She’d been so sweet.
His eyes squeezed shut. Maybe he’d try a cold shower before bed. Maybe he’d get his a
ss in check that way. The whiskey hadn’t helped so he sure needed to try something else.
But then a faint sound reached him. A cry?
Instantly, he was out the room and running up the stairs. The sound came again, a whimper, and he knew it was Willow. She was the only other person in the house. It had to be her, and she sounded as if she were in pain.
Maybe she hadn’t healed completely from the gunshot. There was so much about the Lazarus subjects that no one understood.
“Willow?” He knocked on her door.
Another soft cry was his only answer.
He twisted the door knob. Locked. Dammit. He pounded on the door. “Willow?”
A whimper.
Screw this. He kicked in the door. It flew back, banging against the wall. Jay raced across the room. Willow was still in bed, tangled in the covers, her hair tousled. Her head moved back and forth across the pillows, and those soft cries continued to slip from her.
She was afraid. Terrified. And dreaming.
He reached out to her, his fingers curling around her shoulder. “Baby, wake up—”
At his touch, she screamed. A long, piercing cry, and her eyes flew wide open. For an instant, she stared at him with zero recognition on her face.
And then her hand flew up. She touched his chest.
The room vanished. It was as if he’d blinked, and Jay found himself somewhere else. Someplace else.
Back in the limo. He was sitting on the leather seat. Willow was in his arms. Her blood was on his hands. Her eyes were closed. She wasn’t moving. Wasn’t breathing. “Don’t!” The shout broke from him. “Don’t do it!” But she was…she was dead. He shook her, again and again, even as fear clawed through him. This couldn’t be happening. He couldn’t lose someone again, couldn’t hold her while she died, and he was helpless to do a damn thing. “Willow!”
And just like that…
The scene faded. The limo was gone, and he was back in his home, standing beside the bed. Only Willow wasn’t in the bed any longer. Jay shook his head even as his breath sawed in and out of his lungs. Willow was across the room, her arms wrapped around her stomach as she rocked her body back and forth.
“S-sorry, so s-sorry…”
He looked down at his body. Back up at her.
“Didn’t mean…” Her voice trembled. “I…had a bad dream. I didn’t know…where I was…sorry.”
“Willow…” He moved around the bed, stepped toward her.
But she stiffened. “You don’t want to touch me.”
He sure as all hell did.
“I can control it.” She gave a quick nod. “I can, I promise, I can. But I wasn’t myself. I didn’t know what was happening, I—”
“You had a nightmare.” His heart still raced too fast. “That’s normal, Willow. Everyone has nightmares.” His hand reached out, and he turned on the nearby lamp. A soft pool of light spilled onto her.
Willow flinched. A tear slid down her cheek. “I made you fear.”
“Yes, I was worried when I heard you cry out—”
“I made you see what you feared.”
And he tensed. “Is that why you’re pressed against the wall? Because you woke up from a bad dream, and you accidentally used your power on me?”
“I made you fear. You won’t touch me again. Won’t let me touch you. You—”
He closed the distance between them. Caught her hand. Put it over his chest. She tried to jerk back, but he tightened his hold. The woman had super strength, if she really wanted to break away, Jay knew she could.
But she didn’t.
Her breath hitched. “Jay…?”
“Do you know what I saw?” But he didn’t wait for her to answer. “You. I saw you, in the limo, dying.” Dead. “That’s what I fear. And it’s not a secret. I fear hurting you. I fear not being able to help you. That shit has happened to me before, you see. West and I…we had a foster sister once. Emeline. Sweetest little girl you’ve ever seen. But one day while West and I were in school, our foster dad—the sonofabitch got angry with her. He pushed her, and Emeline, she was so fucking little. She fell when he pushed her. Hit her head. Only the bastard thought she was okay. Just a little bump.” His voice roughened as he kept her hand against his heart. “When I came in from school, I knew something was wrong with her. West and I—we got her. We took her out of that house. The SOB tried to stop us, but West hit him.” West had been fifteen, and more than a match for the prick. He and West could have taken the guy any day. But Emeline… “She was eight. And I was carrying her. Running down the road because there wasn’t a phone anywhere, and we had to get her to the hospital. I was carrying her, holding her, when she stopped breathing.”
When she’d died, he’d fallen to the ground. He and West had begged her to wake up. They’d tried CPR, they’d just learned it in their health class at school, and they’d thought they could get her to come back.
Emeline hadn’t come back.
But Willow had. He swallowed and tried to keep his voice gentle. “You were afraid, and you just acted instinctively. It’s okay.”
Another tear leaked down her cheek. “No, it’s not.”
She was breaking his heart. “It’s late, baby. Come back to bed. Get some sleep.”
Her breath hitched. “And you’ll be here in the morning? Just like you say?”
“Of course.” I’ll be where you are. “Where else would I be?”
She shuffled back to the bed. Slid under the covers. He stood there, watching her, feeling absolutely helpless. After a moment, he turned off the light, plunging the room into darkness before he turned for the door.
“I like the light.” Her soft voice stopped him.
He looked back, straining to see her in the darkness. “I can turn the lamp back on.”
“Just…will you open the blinds? Let the moonlight in.”
And he wondered if she really liked the light or if she liked to see outside. To know that she wasn’t a prisoner any longer.
Another sin on his soul. He’d been the one to design the rooms—the cells that Wyman Wright had used with the Lazarus subjects. Rooms that had allowed the researchers to see inside, to watch the subjects at all times. Like they were lab rats. Without a word, Jay pulled open the blinds, letting the moonlight trickle into the room. “Better?”
“Thank you.” Her voice was so soft.
He gave a grim nod and headed for the door.
“Stay?”
Jay froze.
“Just for a little while? I can’t remember the dream. I never can, but I think it would be better if I wasn’t alone.”
He glanced around the room. Saw the chair against the wall. “I’ll sit here—”
“Would you…could you…”
Jay’s head cocked as he padded toward her. “What do you need?” I’ll give you everything.
“Could you just maybe stay beside me a moment? I was always alone in the lab. And I just—never mind. Forget it.”
He’d never forget. Jay slid into the bed with her. He reached for her and pulled Willow into his arms. She stiffened for a moment.
“You don’t have to touch me,” Willow whispered. “I know you’re worried about what I’ll do—”
“I’m not worried about a damn thing. You just close your eyes and relax.” His hand stroked along her side. “You won’t be alone. And you won’t be in the dark.” Not ever again on his watch.
And the tension slowly left her body. He kept gently caressing her, holding her, and he felt the moment when she eased into sleep once more. Jay knew he could get up then. He could slip from the room.
But Willow would be alone when he left. What if she had another bad dream?
Besides, he liked holding her. Liked it too much, truth be told, but his eager dick could just settle the hell down. This wasn’t about sex. This was about her. About what Willow needed.
He stared up at the ceiling. She felt good against him. Right.
As if she fit him.
***
Willow came awake slowly. She stretched her body, arching, and her eyes opened as—
As she touched someone. Someone in the bed with her.
In the bed with her.
Willow’s head jerked to the right. Her gaze fell on Jay. A still sleeping Jay. A Jay with his hair tousled and his long lashes against his cheeks. A Jay who wasn’t wearing a shirt and who had the covers shoved down near his waist, revealing the muscled expanse of his chest. For a man who spent a whole lot of hours typing on a keyboard, the guy was built. Rippling muscles, washboard abs, and—
“You’re in bed with me.” The words blurted from her.
And she remembered last night. Waking up. Touching him. Sending his worst fear slamming into his head.
She whipped into a sitting position, hauling the covers with her and clutching them to her chest.
Jay’s eyes opened. She expected him to stare at her in horror. She’d messed with his mind last night. Then he’d stayed with her? Oh, God, she pretty much remembered begging the guy to stay. Because she’d been afraid. And like all of the darker emotions, fear hit the Lazarus subjects too hard. It had slithered through her, chilling her, weakening her and—
“Morning, beautiful.” He smiled at her. A killer grin that made her hold the covers a bit tighter.
“You…” Okay, she sounded like she was squeaking. Willow cleared her throat. “You stayed.”
His smile dimmed. “Of course, you asked me to.”
He’d stayed. She lifted the covers and realized that she was still wearing her t-shirt and jogging shorts. She’d changed into them right before climbing into bed. “We didn’t have sex.”
“No.” Laughter lurked in the one word. “But if that’s an offer…”
Willow jumped out of the bed. She pulled the covers with her, and when she did, she saw that he was still in his jeans. “Why did you stay?”
He sat up in bed. “Because you asked me to.” The same words he’d just said. His head cocked as he studied her. “Soon enough, you’ll realize, that’s all you’ll ever have to do.”
Her gaze was on his jeans. On the very prominent front of his jeans.