by Anthology
Scared and blinded, you brought the light
You were the one that gave me my sight
Because you are my soul
You gave me the light
You are my dream and now I see
You are my soul…my one and only soul.
His chest felt tight and his eyes burned listening to the words. And when the song ended, she leaned down to kiss him again. “Thank you…and oh, by the way, my set’s over.”
He jumped up, wrapped his arm around her waist, and dragged her off the stage. The crowd parted like the Red Sea, allowing them to leave quickly. No one dared to get in the way of the two lovers.
And when they finally made it up to their room and the door closed, she told him, “You know, we got a lifetime ahead of us.”
“My Siren.”
“My Soul.”
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HOUSE ARREST
A novella by Melanie Moreland
** Jenny**
I squinted in concentration as I leaned forward, trying to keep my balance and open my door. Why wouldn’t the damn key go in? Frustrated, I heaved a sigh, causing my hair to lift away from my forehead as I tried once more. I desperately needed to lie down.
Damn Jackey. This was all her fault. When I called her earlier, she was the one who insisted we go out drinking and give me a chance to vent. She was the one who kept ordering the drinks. She was the one who picked up the bartender and left me alone in the bar.
Now, I couldn’t get into my apartment. I studied the key, frowning. I was scratching up the door with the key instead of opening it. Why wouldn’t the damn thing turn? Groaning, I kicked the wood in frustration, only to hiss in pain after my foot made contact. I placed my hand on the door and tried one last time to put the key into the lock. If it didn’t work, I would have to find the super, and ask him to let me in.
I gasped in shock as the door I leaned against swung open and I lurched forward. The only thing that prevented me from hitting the floor was a strong pair of arms wrapping around me. Blinking in surprise, I looked up into the confused eyes of my very favorite neighbor.
Officer Connor Michaels. Tall and broad, his shoulders filled the doorway, his barrel chest pressed to mine. His dark hair was damp, his T-shirt clinging to his well-defined muscles.
“Connor?” I slurred.
“Jenny.” His amused voice purred my name.
“Why–why are you in my apartment?”
He pulled me upright, setting me on my feet as he smirked. “I’m not. You’re in mine.”
I gaped at him, then looked at the door.
Damn it.
His deep chuckle let me know I’d said that out loud.
I gazed at him, my already warm cheeks becoming even hotter. Good God, the man was gorgeous. “Sorry, Connor. I obviously went down one door too many. Sort of like the drinks this afternoon.” I snorted in embarrassment. “Guess that explains why my key didn’t work. I’m–I’m kinda drunk.”
“I can see that.”
“I keyed up your door.” I waved my hand and hiccupped. “I’ll fix it—but not today. I need a nap.”
I turned to go and tripped over my own feet. Connor’s arms shot out, keeping me upright. He lifted me, carrying me effortlessly into his apartment, and set me down on his couch. He sat beside me; his long fingers tilted up my head, and I looked at him with bleary eyes. God, he was so handsome. He had such beautiful eyes. They were blue and as deep and fathomless as the ocean. He was rugged and strong, his neck thickly corded, his face intense. For me, however, there was always a smile and a softening of his expression, a kind word and a gentle hug. I liked that. I liked him.
The way his eyebrows shot up made me wonder if I uttered that out loud, but I wasn’t sure and he didn’t comment.
Instead, his voice was quiet and concerned. “Why are you drunk at three in the afternoon, Jenny?”
Traitorous tears filled my eyes. “I broke up with my boyfriend.”
“Ah. I’m sorry.”
I lifted my arm. “I bought him a watch.”
Connor grinned, that sexy dimple on the right side of his face deepening. “I don’t think you understand this whole breaking up thing. The last girl I broke up with slapped me so hard I had a bruise on my face for a week. She didn’t buy me a watch.”
I shook my head. He was so funny. Funny, handsome, and lovely. I frowned. Why would anyone ever break up with him? He was so wonderful. I thought he was pretty fucking perfect.
He was grinning at me again. I wasn’t sure why. Did I say something? What were we discussing again?
Oh right, the watch.
“No.” I tried to explain. “We hadn’t been getting along well lately. He always seemed to be mad at me, and I thought it was my fault. So, I bought him a watch to say I was sorry.”
“Okay?”
I sniffed. “He works from home a lot, so I took it over to surprise him. Only he surprised me. When I walked in . . . he was fucking his assistant against the wall.”
“Oh.”
“I don’t think it was my fault now. He wasn’t very happy to see me.”
He cupped my face tenderly, wiping away the tears from my cheeks that rolled down, despite my efforts to stop them. “I’m sorry that happened to you, Jenny. You didn’t deserve that.”
“I kept the watch. I think I can return it.”
“Good decision.” He rose and went into the kitchen, coming back with a glass of water. “Here, drink this.”
I accepted the glass and sipped the cold liquid.
“What did you do? I hope you gave him a piece of your mind.”
“I might have yelled a lot. And I might have bitch slapped her when she got in my face about what a lousy girlfriend I was to John.”
“And him?”
“I, um, I threw his cellphone off the balcony into the pool, then I kicked him in the crotch.” I groaned, remembering my impulsive reaction. “I kicked him hard.” I held out my foot. “These pointy shoes are lethal.”
His lips quirked and he had to look away as he tried to hide his smile. I didn’t want him to hide his smile. I loved his smile. It was especially attractive with his sexy dimple. I wondered if it tasted as sexy as it looked.
This time, when he grinned at me, I knew I said that out loud. Damnit.
“Well,” he smirked, “I think that concluded his wall-banging fun for the day—maybe even two.”
I giggled, clapping my hand over my mouth to cover the snort I knew would follow. I always snort-laughed when I was drunk. Jackey told me it was highly unattractive.
Connor leaned over and uncovered my mouth. “Laugh, Jenny. I much prefer you laugh than cry. And the bastard deserved it.” He chuckled. “Just remind me not to let you too close when you’re pissed at me.”
I giggled again.
Connor frowned at me. “I get the crotch attack, but why his cellphone?”
“He loved that thing. That and his precious car. More than anything.” I sighed. “Certainly, more than me.”
“He didn’t deserve you. Anyone who would love their cellphone or their car more than you, clearly isn’t right in the head.”
I giggled-sobbed, followed by a hiccup, while I rubbed the top of my arm, and winced a little. “Well, I guess he’s not my problem anymore.”
Connor’s eyes narrowed as he watched my hand, and he pulled my sweater from my shoulder. “Did he leave a mark on you?” He hissed.
I looked down at the bruise that was f
orming where John’s hand had gripped me. “Um, I guess so. He was really mad over the whore-cheating-girlfriend-slapping thing, and I imagine the crotch attack, but probably the angriest over the cellphone in the pool. He grabbed me hard when he threw me out of the apartment.”
“What’s his address?”
I looked at him, confused. “Why would you want that?”
“Your boyfriend needs a lesson in manners.”
I blinked at him. “He’s not my boyfriend anymore.” I proceeded to burst into noisy, wailing sobs.
Connor’s arms wrapped around me, and I found myself in his lap. His hands stroked my back in gentle, comforting circles as he crooned with a quiet voice in my ear, telling me everything would be okay.
When I calmed down, he handed me some Kleenex and smiled at me. “I know it hurts, Jenny. But he wasn’t the right man for you. As cliché as it sounds, you’ll get over the pain.”
Before I could stop myself, I shook my head. “That’s the problem, Connor. I–I’m not upset we broke up.”
“I don’t understand.”
I exhaled a deep, shuddering breath and kept my eyes averted. I needed to tell someone how I was feeling. I couldn’t even tell Jackey, since I was so ashamed of myself, but somehow, telling Connor seemed right. I wanted him to know. “I’m actually relieved. Things hadn’t been good for a long time, and nothing I did seemed to be right or to help. A relationship shouldn’t be that much work. Or make someone that unhappy most of the time.”
He lifted my chin. “So, you’re crying because . . .?”
My lips started quivering again. “Because I feel guilty. I know I wasn’t a good girlfriend.” I huffed. “Something changed for me a few months ago and my feelings toward John were different. I was different.” I shrugged. “They had been fading for a while and I tried to fight it, but it didn’t work.”
He frowned at me. “At least you tried. It sounds as though he just moved on and kept stringing you along.”
We were quiet as I continued sitting on his lap. He made no move to push me off, and I made no move to leave. I liked how it felt sitting there. His arm was still around me, holding me loosely, and I was close enough to be able to breathe in his clean scent. His other hand still cupped my face, his long fingers dancing soothingly on my skin along the edge of my hairline. It was comforting and felt strangely right.
He spoke up, breaking the silence. “What happened to change your feelings, Jenny?”
I closed my eyes briefly. When I opened them, I looked into the deep blue of his warm gaze and I swallowed. I realized I was still drunk enough to be brave and say what I had been hiding for so many months.
“You moved in.”
His eyes widened. “Jenny.”
I shook my head. “It’s okay, Connor. You don’t have to say anything. You didn’t do anything wrong. It’s all me. John wasn’t right for me. He never was . . . and I knew it before I met you. I just—” Embarrassment crashed over me, and I tried to push myself away. Connor’s arm tightened around me and I glanced up, expecting to see rejection and pity on his face.
First, he found me drunk in the hall and now I’d confessed to having a secret crush on him that might have led to the breakup of my relationship. All that drama from the girl he had coffee with occasionally and borrowed the odd condiment from at times. All our interactions had been friendly and easy. I always found his presence soothing and enjoyable. They always left me wanting more time with him—and now I had just ruined it.
Except, it wasn’t rejection or pity I saw. He was smiling at me, the most endearing look on his face. I stopped pushing on his chest, my breath catching as I looked at his expression. He pulled me nearer, until our faces were so close, I could feel his breath washing over me. “It’s not all you, Jenny,” he said.
Then he was kissing me.
God, his mouth. It was everything I had fantasized about since the first time he smiled at me. His lips were warm and soft against mine, moving and guiding me. His tongue dragged across my bottom lip, and my mouth parted. My senses exploded as he deepened the kiss; its nature becoming possessive and greedy immediately. I moaned deep in my throat as his arms tightened and his tongue demanded, claimed, swirled, and explored, leaving me breathless and clinging to him for dear life. My head began to spin, and I pulled away, gasping for air.
Glowing blue met dazed brown as we stared at each other. His hand came up, softly tracing my lips, which puckered against his touch. I blinked as the room began to pulsate around me.
“Connor. . .”
“Jenny?” His voice was husky and filled with want.
“I need . . .”
“What do you need, baby? Tell me.”
“I think, I’m gonna throw up.”
***
I woke up, blinking and confused. I buried my head back into the pillow and burrowed under the soft blanket covering me. My bed had never felt so comfortable. I inhaled and frowned. My pillow didn’t smell like Downy. It smelled like fresh cut grass on a nice, sunny day. It smelled like Connor did when he gave me a hug.
Connor.
Oh no.
I sat up, my eyes wide as I looked around the room. I was not in my bed. This was not my room. I swallowed heavily. I was in Connor’s room. My hands flew up to my mouth, stifling my gasp as I remembered exactly how I ended up in Connor’s room. Images bombarded me—finding John, kicking him, slapping Tami, drinking and stumbling home, and ending up in Connor’s apartment, crying in his arms. I shuddered as I remembered my whispered confession and kissing him. Oh God, how we had kissed. I never wanted to stop.
Except, the room had begun to spin, and I had pushed away from Connor, then ran to the bathroom and threw up. My embarrassment grew as I remembered him behind me, holding my hair, stroking my back, and making little hushing noises at my distress. I looked down, my humiliation complete, as I realized I was no longer wearing my blouse and pants but rather a large T-shirt that had to belong to Connor. I pulled the T-shirt aside and saw my tank top was still in place as were my boy shorts. I must have vomited on myself before passing out. Looking at the fading light, I judged it was early evening, which meant I had been out for a few hours.
I swung my legs over the edge of the bed and stood. I had to get out of there, as quickly as possible and with as little contact with Connor as I could manage. Then I needed to pack up my apartment and move in the middle of the night while he was asleep.
Yeah. That was a good plan. I wasn’t sure how I would do it with a pounding headache and no truck or help, but I would figure it out.
I listened, but the apartment was quiet. Cautiously, I stuck my head out the door and looked around. It was empty. I must have disgusted him so much he left. No doubt, he’d hoped I would wake up and leave before he got home. I was sure he’d be grateful when he realized I had moved in the night. It would save us the awkward embarrassment of reliving my drunken episode every time we passed in the hall. I was sure our coffee dates were over.
I scurried across the living area, grabbing my purse on the floor. I had no idea where my clothes were, and I couldn’t see my shoes, but I didn’t care. I had twenty pairs of flats in the closet, and I simply had to go down the hall. I reached the door and stopped dead at the large piece of paper hanging on it.
Jenny
If you are reading this, you are awake – or at least coherent and no doubt panicking.
Stop.
I’ll be back soon.
Don’t run. Go sit on the couch and relax.
I’m sure you need this.
Taped below was a new toothbrush. My fingers reached out touching the white handle. He was always so thoughtful. My gaze returned to the note.
Towels in the bathroom. Tylenol on the counter. Water in the fridge.
Did I mention, stop panicking?
Connor x
PS – You look cute in my shirt.
PPS – I know you’re still panicking and want to leave. Your clothes are in the laundry. I took your k
eys and your shoes—you can’t go anywhere.
PPPS – If you feel like you are being held against your will on house arrest, then I suggest you move on to the next phase of being kidnapped. Stockholm syndrome. In case you don’t know—that is where you develop an intense bond and deep feelings for your captor—me. I already have them for you.
PPPPS – Please sit down. STAY. Back soon. Don’t make me come find you. I will. I’m a cop. I can do that.
I blinked at the note and reread it. I looked down at the shirt and smiled, then laughed when I reread the PPPS part. I reached out and tore the toothbrush away from the paper, returned to the bathroom and used it vigorously. I also had a quick, but refreshing shower and brushed my hair, emerging a few minutes later feeling human again. I padded to the kitchen, still wearing his T-shirt and my underclothes. I located the water and Tylenol and swallowed some pills, hoping they would ease the throbbing pain in my head. I desperately hoped they would ease the nerves in my stomach that had nothing to do with the alcohol I drank and everything to do with the confession I had spilled because of the alcohol I drank.
The sound of the key in the door made me turn my head, and I watched, wide-eyed, as Connor walked in, his hands full of bags. He stopped when he saw me regarding him warily from the couch. Setting down the bags, he crossed over, and before I could react, leaned over the back of the couch, dragged me up into his arms, kissed me soundly, and pulled back with a smile. “Stopped panicking yet?”
“Um, no?”
He leaned down and nuzzled my lips. “Stop now, please.”
“Connor—”
“I kissed you, Jenny. I started it.”
I grimaced. I was certain falling into his apartment drunk started it. I looked up when he chuckled.
“You talk out loud a lot, don’t you? I never noticed it before today.” He grinned down at me. “Not much of an inner voice?”
I shut my eyes. It would seem that was all I did around him. Spill my innermost thoughts.