Amber’s gaze drops to Smoky. Biting her lip, she gives a small nod. She looks even more fragile than usual. I put my hand on her leg.
“It’s going to be okay, sweetheart,” Kathryn says. “You’re strong. Like a lotus flower. What happened to you made you stronger.”
“But everyone’s going to hear everything that happened to me.” Amber’s voice is frantic. She avoids looking at me or her grandmother, further confirming what I suspect: she’s been holding things back from me, and maybe even her grandmother. “I know how defense lawyers work. They’ll try to destroy me.”
“Your mother will help you prepare.”
Amber’s eyes glisten. “Every time Mom looks at me, she just gets worse. When she looks at me, she remembers Michael is gone and that it’s my fault.”
Kathryn closes her eyes, but not before I see the pain in them. It’s gone when she reopens them a second later. “That’s not true,” she says, not sounding too convinced herself.
“Did you know she’s drinking again?”
Kathryn nods.
“And that she’s dealing with depression again?”
Her grandmother’s head drops forward and she nods again. “I’ve tried to get her to see someone, but you know how she is.”
Amber scoots off the couch with Smoky still in her arms. “I need to go to the bathroom.”
I have a feeling she doesn’t. She wants to be alone. I stare at her retreating back as she walks away, trying to figure out what I’m supposed to do.
When I look back at Kathryn, she’s eyeing me in the same way Smoky had before our truce.
“Amber’s been through a lot, and the last thing she needs is another guy hurting her. If you’re going to be that guy, Marcus, it’s best you end things now with her.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Amber
In the bathroom, I slide to the floor, my hands full of Smoky and my cell phone.
“Oh, God,” I say to Smoky. “What am I going to do? Mom and Emma will be there. In the courtroom.” Listening to things I want neither of them to hear.
Maybe Mom has the right idea about drinking. Right now, I need something stronger than the lemonade Grandma gave Marcus and me.
I text Jordan: R we still on for Nightshade tonight?
She replies less than a minute later: Yes! Will you be back in time?
Yes. Leaving soon.
I don’t move right away. I continue stroking Smoky. If only I could bring him with me. We’re both broken. We need each other.
After a few minutes someone knocks at the door. “Kitten, you okay?”
The concern in Marcus’s voice tears me apart, and leaves me dying deep in the ground. How will he feel about me once he knows the truth?
“I’m coming. Give me a second.” I put Smoky down. He meows and paws my lap like he used to when we were scared. “It’s gonna be okay,” I tell him. “We’re safe now. Paul can’t hurt us anymore.”
I stand and dry the tears from my face with a tissue. My T-shirt’s covered in gray fur but I don’t care. I scoop him up again and unlock the door.
“We should go now,” I tell Marcus. “Jordan and I still plan to go to Nightshade tonight.”
“All right.”
There’s something off about him. I recognize that look and inwardly groan. “Whatever Grandma said, just ignore it. Okay? She’s overly protective. She used to interrogate Trent all the time.” Though he turned it into a game. They both did.
Marcus scratches Smoky behind the ear. The furball purrs a little louder.
“Smoky likes you and he’s not easy to please,” I say. Maybe he senses Marcus is damaged, too.
After saying bye to Smoky, I tell Grandma that Marcus and I have to leave.
“Has your mom seen your tattoo yet?” she asks.
I shake my head. During my run-in with Mom, I’d been careful to hide it behind my back. The situation had been bad enough as it was, what with her drinking again. I didn’t want to make things worse.
Grandma takes hold of my forearm and examines the design. “Well, for the record, I like it.” She gives me a hug, and then she hugs Marcus and whispers something in his ear. He pales.
“I’ll meet you at the car,” I tell him, and wait for him to walk down the path before I shut the door. I turn to Grandma. “Leave him alone. I like him.”
“I don’t want to see you hurt, sweetie. You’ve been through enough.”
“I know, but he’s safe. Neither of us is looking for love.”
She frowns. “What’s wrong with love?”
“It’s hard to lose someone you love if you don’t love anyone.”
She turns as pale as Marcus did a few minutes ago, eyes glistening. She throws her arms around me and hugs me hard. “Oh, Amber. Don’t let what that sick bastard did to you change who you are. You do that, and he wins. There’s nothing wrong with loving someone. Just make sure the person’s worthy of your heart when you’re ready to give it to him.”
“Okay,” I say, even though I don’t mean it, and pull away. “Just give Marcus a chance. Smoky likes him and you know how he is about most people.”
Grandma chuckles. “I’ll give you that.”
I hug her once more and join Marcus outside. At the sight of him still looking a little shaken, I wrap my arms around his neck. “Ignore her. I like you and that’s all that’s important.” To prove it, I slide my hand up the back of his head and guide it down to mine. I don’t care who sees us or what they think. I just care about erasing what she said from his memory.
I kiss him long and hard, my tongue exploring his mouth, my entire body coming alive. The ache between my legs from earlier returns, pleading for Marcus to take me to the heights we reached in my room. I pull away, knowing I’ll have to tell him the truth, but not now. Not here.
I give him a quick kiss on the lips. “We should go now.” I walk around the car, checking the tires and the backseat. Once I’m satisfied, I unlock the doors and climb in. If Marcus thinks my behavior’s a little odd, he doesn’t say anything.
“How come Smoky lives with your grandmother?” Marcus asks after we drive for a few minutes in silence.
“My mom didn’t want him anywhere near her. I think she blamed him for what happened even though he had nothing to do with it. He was as much a victim as I was. But because Paul bought him, Mom believes Smoky is just as evil.” I shake my head at that. She has no problem defending criminals, yet she can’t accept my furry best friend. “When I was rescued, I was clutching him and refused to let him go. I was afraid they would put him down because he was badly injured. They had to sedate me before they could get him away from me. My grandma offered to take him in.” At the therapist’s suggestion.
“How come you stopped going to therapy?” Marcus asks. And why did you lie to your grandmother? is the unspoken question I sense he wants to add.
“I just did, that’s all. I didn’t find it all that helpful.” Only the weak ask for help, Amber.
I can tell Marcus wants to press the issue, but I can also tell he’s reluctant to do so, knowing I can turn the table on him. I wasn’t the one who used sex as a way to dull the pain. That was all him.
I drop Marcus off at his place and return to my dorm, contemplating what to wear tonight. What I want to wear is a skirt and tank top, since it’ll be hot at Nightshade, but that isn’t possible. Instead, I change into a black fitted top that scoops down in front without showing any cleavage. With my low-rise jeans on, a thin strip of belly peeks out, but not in a way that screams ‘Hey, look at me!’
Nightshade is packed by the time Jordan and I arrive with the guys. Once we’re in, we make our way to the bar through the press of sweaty bodies.
“What do you want?” Marcus asks.
I want something stronger tha
n Diet Coke, but none of us are old enough to order it, and it doesn’t look like the bartender who was crushing on Marcus last time is working tonight. I don’t want to get drunk, not like Mom can get, but I need to dull the edginess that’s been growing since Grandma mentioned the court case.
“I wanna dance.” I grab Marcus’s hand and lead him onto the crowded floor. I manage to find some space. Not that I need much when all I want is to press my body against Marcus and forget about everything else.
I wrap my arms around his neck and sway my body in time to the fast-paced beat. Marcus’s hands rest on my hips. We focus on each other. As far as everyone else is concerned, they don’t exist.
I’m half-aware of Jordan dancing with Chase. They’re close together, but not as close as Chase looks like he wants to be. The way she’s moving, her back to him, his hands on her waist, it’s all very sensual.
Wanting the same and more, I pivot and press my back to Marcus’s chest and grind my body against him as I move to the music.
“You’re killing me, Kitten,” Marcus growls in my ear. His voice is so sexy, so full of want, an electrifying warmth spreads through my body. I want him. God, how I want him.
A slow song comes on. I turn around and loop my arms round his neck again. Focused on his smoldering hazel eyes, I sway my hips in a seductive dance. The edginess fades, though I don’t know if it’ll ever truly go away.
I press my lips to his and he immediately welcomes me in.
We kiss for the entire song, and even for part of the next one, until someone bumps against me, almost knocking me over. That’s when we realized the music is no longer a slow song, and head for the bar.
I have no idea how we’ve lasted this long without a drink. We must have been dancing nonstop for hours. Or at least it feels that way. As we wait to order our drinks, Jordan and Chase join us.
“I don’t know about you,” Chase says. “But I’m ready to go home and have a real drink.”
Considering Marcus and Chase are from a tough neighborhood, I’m surprised they don’t have fake IDs. Before I can point that out, a girl carrying a black plastic bucket filled with an assortment of roses approaches.
I turned away to let her know I’m not interested, but she moves in front of me and pulls out a red rose. “A guy wanted me to give this to you. He said you’d know who it’s from.”
In a daze, I take it from her and stare at her, all words stuck in my throat.
Marcus places his hand on my lower back, steadying me. “What guy?” he snaps.
The girl takes a nervous step back. “I-I don’t know.”
The harshness in Marcus’s voice softens. “Sorry. What did he look like?”
She shrugs. “I don’t remember. Do you know how many guys I’ve talked to tonight?” Given that she’s wearing a little black dress that reveals more than it covers, my guess is quite a few.
I scan the area but see no one who looks familiar, or anyone watching for my reaction. It’s possible she confused me with someone else, and another girl was supposed to get the rose.
Marcus takes it from my hand and drops it back in the bucket. “She’s with me.”
A smile spreads on her face. “Then maybe you’d like to buy her one.”
“She’s allergic to them,” he deadpans.
I wipe my hands against my jeans. It’s not like the rose was from Paul, but I still feel like I have to wipe my hands clean of it. Clean of him. “I need a drink. A strong one.”
Chapter Thirty
Amber
I know I’m being ridiculous. Paul had nothing to do with the rose. But I was already hovering near the edge after my run-in with Mom. The rose just pushed me a little closer.
Luckily, Jordan is as eager as the rest of us to go back to the guys’ apartment. Once there, she and I make ourselves comfortable on the worn navy couch.
“What’s your poison, ladies?” Chase asks.
“Do you have tequila?” Jordan says. “I’ve always wanted to try body shots.”
I laugh. “You do realize what a body shot is, right?”
She starts to nod, then shakes her head.
The guys laugh.
Jordan’s gaze jumps to each of us as she tries to figure out why we’re laughing.
“Wanna demonstrate, Kitten?” Marcus’s lips move into a seductive half smile as his gaze locks on my mouth. I can almost imagine his X-rated thoughts, and they’re destroying my self-control, which has pretty much melted away.
“Okay.” The word comes out more like a breath than a real word. I’ve never done a body shot, but Emma used to do them at parties. I know what to expect, which is more than I can say for Jordan.
Chase walks to the tiny kitchen and returns with his hands full, carrying the salt, lime wedges, a couple of shooter glasses and a bottle of tequila. He places them on the kitchen table, which separates the kitchen from the living room.
Marcus turns on the stereo to a rock station. The music’s loud enough to be heard but not loud enough to annoy the neighbors.
Emma used to do body shots at parties while lying on a kitchen table, but Marcus suggests standing instead, since the table is too small for any of us to lie on.
He takes my hand and runs his tongue slowly along the side of it, teasing me. I almost moan at the erotic sensation of his tongue against my skin. He sprinkles salt on the spot he licked and places the lime in my mouth, fruit side facing him.
Chase hands him the shooter glass filled with tequila.
Marcus lifts my hand to his mouth and traces his tongue across the salt. This time I do moan at the feel of his warm tongue against my now ultrasensitive skin.
He curls his lips around the glass and shoots back the liquid. Eyes blazing, he removes the glass and lowers his mouth to mine, encircling the lime with his lips. He presses them against mine.
My legs melt under me, barely keeping me upright. Marcus slides his arms around my waist and pulls me close, as if sensing I’m about to become a puddle of hot liquid. He moves his head away from mine, taking the lime with him.
Jordan stands there, mouth open, face flushed, looking like she’s ready to fan herself at the steaminess between Marcus and me. Chase is grinning. I have no idea where his thoughts are, but he’s obviously amused at either Marcus and me, or Jordan’s reaction.
“That’s the PG version,” I tell her.
“Though the R-rated one’s fun too,” Chase points out.
Marcus’s lime-and-tequila breath, mingling with his usual intoxicating scent, caresses my cheek. “You’re next,” he murmurs in my ear. I swallow back the moan begging to break free, again. Maybe tonight’s exactly what I need.
I run my tongue over his hand, my attention focused on him. I’m vaguely aware of Jordan and Chase shooting back tequila, but without the partner dance Marcus and I are wrapped up in.
I shower a small amount of salt on his hand, take the glass from Chase, then lick, shoot, and kiss my way to happiness. The tequila burns on its way down but it’s worth it. Smiling, I remove the lime wedge from my mouth.
“We should do a toast,” Jordan says, getting ready for the next round. She raises her glass. “To fun.”
“To not having to get up early tomorrow,” Chase says.
“To winning,” Marcus adds.
To forgetting, I want to say but go with “To friends” instead.
We tap our glasses together before shooting back the fiery liquid. A slow smile spreads on Jordan’s face.
Marcus watches me closely, and for some reason this makes me think of my mom. Although I can’t imagine her having tequila shots with friends, did her drinking start the same way, with her struggling to find a way to dull the pain?
That thought lasts only until the next round, then the only thing occupying my brain is a welcome buzz
. At Chase’s insistence, we have two more rounds and Jordan starts laughing. A lot.
“Okay, that’s enough,” Marcus says. “We don’t wanna get you two drunk.”
Jordan bursts out laughing. “Too late.” She grabs my hand. “Time to go home.”
Marcus locks his arms round my waist. “Sorry. She’s staying with me tonight.”
I am?
He drags me back so I’m leaning against his chest. “I’m keeping an eye on you,” he says with more meaning than Jordan and Chase could possibly understand.
Jordan pouts. “So, I’m going home on my own?”
“You can stay in my bed.” One corner of Chase’s mouth slides up, making him look even more adorable than usual. He raises two fingers. “Scout’s honor. I won’t try anything.”
“Was he a scout?” I whisper to Marcus.
He laughs. “No. But if he says he won’t try anything, he won’t. She’s perfectly safe with him.” He leans down and says in a low voice so only I hear him, “And you’re perfectly safe with me.” At his words, I sink further into him.
We say goodnight to Jordan and Chase, and head to Marcus’s room.
Once we’re on his bed, still fully clothed, Marcus leans over and rains soft kisses on my lips, jaw, neck. I run my fingertips under the edge of his T-shirt and marvel at the contrast of hard ab muscles and soft skin. Hard and soft. A true reflection of the real Marcus, not the jerk he first came off as.
Craving to feel all of him, I flatten my hands against his stomach, absorbing the heat, and feeling each ridge of his muscles with my fingertips. With my hands still on his skin, I slowly slide them up, taking his T-shirt with me.
Marcus sits up and rips the distracting piece of clothing off over his head, leaving me with a smile on my lips as I take in his gorgeousness, inside and out.
Chapter Thirty-One
Marcus
Amber’s drunk. Hell, I’m drunk, too. Drunk and screwed. I want to rock her world, but I don’t want this to be our first time together. Not after everything she’s been through. Not after she’s been raped. Not after I’ve used sex as a way to dull the pain.
Tell Me When Page 17