Steal Me (Longshadows Book 1)

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Steal Me (Longshadows Book 1) Page 66

by Natalia Banks


  “What did I miss?” she asks, wiping her palms on her jeans. There’s a look of panic in her face and I know I need to talk her down.

  Or do I?

  Maybe instead of being a nice guy, I need to go back to being the man she thought I was at first. The asshole. I never should have stopped being that man. Because the look in her eyes hurts more than her leaving will.

  So I opt for truth, without regard to her feelings. Like the Kyle I am, not the Kyle she thinks I am. “I can’t do this anymore,” I say, gesturing to the space between us. “I need to get away from this. From you,” I clarify.

  Chapter 21

  Victoria

  It feels like my heart is being squeezed in a vice; I can’t breathe through the agony combusting in my chest. Of course he needs to get away from me. But more than hurt, anger rises up in me.

  “I knew it,” I say, my accusing voice hardly more than a whisper. “I knew you were an asshole.” The anger within struggles against my ability to reason and I turn and walk away from him.

  “Sentinel!” I say sharply. He gets up from his bed, his eyes questioning. He falls into step beside me as I open the sliding glass door and head toward the mother in law. My eyes are filled with stinging, hot tears, but it only makes me more mad.

  He doesn’t want to do this anymore? Fine. I’ll stay out here until we can leave.

  But the thought of leaving fells wrong. I feel like I belong here, like I could start a good life here, with him. I’m so stupid. Of course he wouldn’t want me. I’m so fucking broken no one will ever want me. I don’t deserve love or happiness.

  Especially from someone like Kyle.

  God, I’m so fucking weak! Why did I let myself get in so deep with him? Why did I let myself start to have feelings for someone who showed me his true colors the first time I met him? So what if he’s been playing nice now, he hated me when we met. He thought I was weak. He thought I was annoying and there to ruin his good time.

  Hell, he’d been cruel. He’d told me to watch where I was going. When I’d confided that I don’t usually come in stores without my service dog, he’d been so condescending when he’d said okay. He’d said it like he actually wanted to ask my why the fuck I was telling him something like that.

  And when he’d offered me help? Of course he’d just said it out of a sense of obligation. He hadn’t actually wanted to help. He hadn’t cared that I was in a bad place, that my panic was starting to shift into full gear. He’d wanted to shut me up and move me along while still not feeling like a total waste of a human being.

  That’s who Kyle is. The one who wants to feel good about himself while not doing anything good unless it’s in his best interest.

  Even saving Sentinel had been self-serving.

  He loves animals. He couldn’t, in good conscious, not help. It had absolutely zero to do with me, or my feelings, or how I’d manage to live if I lost my dog. He did it because he loves animals and one was suffering in front of him.

  But doesn’t that negate everything? I wonder.

  If he’s willing to do something kind like that without hope of compensation for something weaker than himself – an injured animal – doesn’t that means he’s being selfless? He’s helping something that can never even thank him, so he’s not doing it for what he can get out of it.

  I struggle over whether or not that makes him a good person or a selfish one for a moment.

  Sentinel whimpers at me and I realize my purse is on the nightstand of my bedroom. “Sentinel, purse,” I say, feeling how hard it is to suck in a deep breath. It’s been over a week since my last attack.

  Sentinel takes out into my room and I hear him whining softly as he moves. I know his stitches have been bothering him, but I assume it’s normal. Though Kyle didn’t check him this morning, he’d been too busy washing his face.

  But Sentinel is fine, I’m sure. He hasn’t been playing hard or anything. He’s been being a good boy.

  I hear the clicking of his nails on the wood floors before he comes back into sight with my purse. I sink to the floor and take out the meds, hating how hard my hands are shaking. But it’s better this heartbreak happen now than later. At least this is happening before I fall totally, irrevocably in love with him.

  Or is it?

  Fumbling with the bottle, I spill the pills on the floor. They scatter and bounce away like gritty pearls. I begin to gather them up, popping two in my mouth as I struggle to grab them with flawed depth perception and blurred vision.

  Breathe.

  My chest aches as I wait for the meds to kick in. Tilting my head back against the wall, I hear my own words in my ears.

  You’re allowed to be angry. No matter what happened, or how. Your emotions have validity.

  And the pain in my chest begins to ease a bit. He was rude, cruel even, by telling me he wanted to get away from me. I’m allowed to be mad at him. My anger is valid, what he did was rude. But it was also his right to say it.

  My lungs loosen a little and I draw in a deep breath.

  But why?

  The question surprises me.

  Why did he tell me that?

  Well, I could sit here and guess, or I could go ask him. Maybe not right now, but later. Once we’ve both had some time to cool off. Because running away and letting all of this go by thinking he’s just an asshole is one way I can handle this.

  Or I can be an adult. I can ask questions. I can try to find the way rather than just accepting this is how things are now.

  The scared Victoria who ran away from home wouldn’t have asked questions. She wouldn’t have investigated the problem. She wouldn’t have decided the reasons were more important than the problem.

  But I don’t want to react based on anger anymore. Or fear. Or by emotion, period. I want answers. I want to understand his reasoning. And it’ll be scary to confront him, because maybe he won’t be willing to have a conversation. But I’ll feel better if I do this. And that’s important.

  Without risk there’s no growth.

  With decidedly steadier hands, I pick up the pills and put them back in the bottle.

  Chapter 22

  Kyle

  The hurt in her eyes as she called me an asshole and turned to leave is forever burned into my thoughts. Fuck. I didn’t think things would get this messy. I wish I’d put her up in a hotel in town rather than my home. Hell, I wish I’d never met her. That I’d walked away that day.

  No, no I don’t. But this shit sucks.

  But whatever idiot said that it’s better to have loved and lost than never loved at all got it all wrong.

  I head back to my room to start packing, trying to figure out what to do. I could go stay in town. I mean, I doubt she’s going to clean my house out. She’s had chances. But I don’t feel like she’s a threat.

  Not to my stuff, at least.

  Mid packing, I hear my phone ring and stop to answer it. It’s Em. “I wanted to let you know the mare is doing well,” she said, her voice light and happy. Way happier than it had been before Kieran came into her life.

  “Thanks,” I say, my tone as flat as I feel.

  “What did you do?” she asks, and I hear her disproval.

  “What are you talking about?” I ask, wondering what she’s accusing me of now.

  I hear her sigh on the other end of the line. “I can hear it in your voice. You did something stupid. You didn’t hurt Victoria, did you?” Her tone shifts to anger.

  I say nothing, but that doesn’t help.

  “Kyle,” she says, her tone sharp. “You fix it right now.”

  “Why?” I say, suddenly angry that she’s taking Victoria’s side without even knowing what’s going on. “Look, she’s going to move on with her life. And when she does, I’ll be standing here alone.”

  There’s a sharp intake of breath on the other end of the line. “You love her, don’t you?” Em asks.

  “No.” The clipped answer is too quick, I know it.

  And Em isn’t buyin
g it. “Oh, Kyle, you really have to fix it. Tell her how you feel.”

  “No, Em. I’m not going to ask her to live her life around me. She’ll leave when she wants to.” I’m not going to try to guilt her into staying with me because I was too stupid to keep myself guarded around her.

  Somehow, she worked her way under my skin, and I let her.

  But Emma isn’t letting go. Like a dog with a bone, she starts playing with me. “I’m so glad! She’s such a sweet girl. If you don’t fix this, I’ll get involved, and trust me,” she says with an un-lady like snort, “That’ll be way more humiliating than telling her you’re sorry for whatever shitty thing you said to her.”

  “You’re not going to do anything,” I tell her. I don’t need Emma to get involved in my life. I don’t need her to try to shoulder her way in now.

  “Oh, come on,” Em says, her voice lighthearted. “I love her. You love her. I bet she loves you. Can you just swallow your pride for once and tell her you love her?”

  “No, Emma,” I say, anger filling me at her pushing. “I won’t tell her I love her. Because it’s not fair of me to expect her to live her life around me. She left to get a fresh start, not to be bound to the first guy she met.”

  This time, the sharp intake of breath comes from behind me and I turn to see Victoria studying me, her brown eyes wide and shocked.

  “God damn it,” I say, hanging up on Emma.

  “That’s why you did it,” She says, her voice a startled whisper. “Because you want to save me from myself. Or you. Whatever.” Her face goes puzzled a moment before settling back into a place of knowing.

  “Don’t read too much into it,” I say, my anger shifting to her. “I was just trying to get Emma off my back.”

  To my surprise, Victoria shakes her head. “Nope,” she says, her light brown hair swishing around her shoulders. “You were telling the truth. Now you’re lying to me. To protect me, I think.”

  She turns around, her voice flowing back to me. “Why don’t you let me make my own choices?”

  I follow her out into the living room. “Why don’t you let me make mine?” I say and she turns around, her expression shadowed by sadness.

  “Don’t do this,” she says, her eyes slashing back and forth between mine.

  “What? Tell you how I really feel?” I ask, leaning back on the counter as I prepare to break her heart into as many shards as I can.

  “But it’s not how you really feel,” she says, her expression troubled.

  Part of me feels bad for lying to her, but most of me is still sure I’m doing the right thing. She needs to move on, and not settle for the first person who is kind to her. I’m not her knight in shining armor. I’m not the prince charming that’ll make her dreams of love and romance come true.

  I’m just another monster wearing sheep’s clothing. “Oh, sweets,” I say, packing the word with as much venom as I can, “I can’t wait for your dog to be healed enough for you to get the fuck out of my house and let me get back to fucking women and sending them on their way in the morning.”

  Her eyes widen.

  “That’s right, princess. I don’t even generally call them again… unless they were amazing in the sack and I decide I want to fuck them again.” As I speak, I see her shudder. Her repulsion is exactly what I’m going for. I bet she’s a damn virgin. A sweet, delicate thing unable to even handle the thought of a man fucking lusty bitches.

  Still, something in me tells me I’m going about this all wrong. That I’m flirting with disaster. That she needs me to be better, needs me to be patient.

  But she doesn’t seem to hesitate. “Do it then,” She says, lifting her arms to the sides.

  “What?” I ask, taken aback. What is she talking about?

  “Fuck me, then,” she says, the challenge clear in her eyes. “You want me to go so you can get laid. So fuck me. Then you won’t be missing out.”

  Chapter 23

  Victoria

  He’s staring at me like he’s trying to figure out if I’m serious or just messing with him. Then he looks away.

  “I thought so,” I say. Suddenly, he closes the distance between us and he’s kissing me. But this kiss isn’t sweet or gentle, no, he’s kissing me like he’s punishing me.

  And it’s amazing.

  A muffled moan leaves me and his tongue slips between my lax lips. He can have whatever he wants. I’m not going to struggle. I want this. I’ve wanted this for a while, and knowing he has feelings for me changes nothing.

  Well, that’s not true. It makes her sure I’m right. That this is perfect. That this man, as imperfect as he is might just be perfect for me.

  I feel like my body is melting into him as he pushes me further. His tongue dances around mine and I whimper, feeling my knees tremble like they’re going to give out on me. His arm circles my ribs like steel and he holds me upright as his tongue continues to plunder my mouth like I’m a prize he’s won.

  And it feels good.

  My arms wind around his neck and I cling to him, feeling like a starving woman tasting ambrosia for the first time in forever. It’s like coming home and finding perfection all at once. Every inch of my skin is alive, my heart is slamming, and my head is swimming.

  The lightheaded sensation isn’t unpleasant, though. It feels right.

  His hand slips down the front of my pants and I feel his fingers questing in the delicate vee between my hips. And I can’t help but moan in pleasure as he expertly parts my flesh and strokes my clit in a long, gentle motion that sends my body lighting up like a Christmas tree. I’ve never wanted someone as much as I want him, right now.

  “Oh, Victoria,” he growls, his teeth capturing my lower lip.

  All I can manage is a strangled moan of pleasure as my head falls back. He takes advantage of the access to my throat and begins to taste my flesh here and here, sending tingling pleasure throughout all my nerve endings.

  My hips buck against his fingers as I beg for more with a pitiful, shameless whimper.

  Suddenly, he’s stroking me quicker, my heart is hammering my ribs, and I feel faint. I’m hanging on the edge of something incredible, but it’s just out of reach.

  And I feel Sentinel’s whimper.

  Instantly, Kyle’s balancing me on my feet, his hand gone from the delicate button of pleasure between my legs. “You okay?” he asks me gently and I nod.

  “Yeah,” I say, then I call out to Sentinel. “Hey boy.”

  He whimpers and I hear the pain in the sound. Kyle drops to his knees as Sentinel comes in. “He popped a couple stitches,” Kyle says, scooping Sentinel up in his arms. I head toward the front door, knowing he wants to get him over to the office to stitch him back up.

  We’re quick to cross the parking lot. Kyle tilts his hips as we halt before the door. “Keys, right front pocket,” he says and I reach into his pocket and pull out the keys. I unlock the door and open it for him.

  “Code 4372,” he says and I hurry over to the box. I punch in the code and rush back to turn on the lights for him. He’s got Sentinel on the table.

  “Stay,” he tells him and Sentinel lays down, placing his head on his front paws as he watches Kyle move around and get ready. Kyle washes his hands and I follow suit. He gets supplies out and I dry my hands before walking over to stand shoulder to shoulder with him.

  He takes the wicked, fishhook-looking needle and threads it. I see where the stitches popped and see some ooze and blood coming from the spot. “Can you help me?” he asks, his blue eyes serious as he looks at me.

  “Yes,” I say, hoping he trusts me when I say that I can.

  He nods. “Glove up,” he says I pull on a set of latex gloves. “I need you to dab up the blood with some of those sterile pads,” he says, and I do so. Sentinel lets out a little whimper and I tell him to shush. We need the quiet, I need to hear every order Kyle gives me. It’s more important than comforting Sentinel right now. He’ll feel better when we’re done and I’ll give him a treat for being go
od.

  With the blood clean, Kyle snips the snapped stitches and pauses to let me dab the fresh blood. I clean it up again and he quickly sews a couple neat stitches and ties them off. I dab blood and he snips the thread.

  “Perfect,” he says, looking down at me with something that’s a bit too close to respect for comfort. “You did amazingly well. I might have to hire you on,” he says and warm pleasure washes over me.

  “Thank you,” I say, but can’t help teasing him a little bit. “But then you’d never be rid of me.”

  And I decide it’s time to own up to my own mistakes. “Sorry I called you an asshole. You’re not. And I know why you did it.”

  He stiffens a bit and I decide to open up to him a little. “I regret all the things I missed, but I’m not excited to experience life on life’s terms. Plus, Love doesn’t have to look a certain way. It just has to feel right.”

  At the word love, his eyes meet mine and lock on with the most intense stare he’s given me yet. And I know why. And I’m strong enough to say it.

  “Yes, I love you. I know I’m crazy. I’m not supposed to say it because it’ll scare you away,” I pause to shake my head at myself. “But I’d like you to give me a chance to decide what I want.” My voice grows stronger as my courage rises word by word. “And I’d like you to be honest with yourself about what you want, too.”

  Chapter 24

  Kyle

  I don’t know what it is about this girl, but she’s fucking amazing. In every way. She knew we needed Sentinel quiet. Rather than coddle him and baby talk him like most owners do when their dogs are upset, she put her emotions on the back burner and got him quiet.

  Now, she’s telling me she loves me. That she’s crazy for telling me and risking screwing things up. That I need to let her decide for herself what she wants. That I need to be honest with myself about what I want.

 

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