I huffed and shook my head as I cradled his face in my hands. This was the Collin I knew and loved, the one who was absurd in his need to give me things. The one who knew how to make me forget the bad. “You’re so ridiculous. You give me too much . . . I don’t want anything.”
“We’re going,” he assured me as he unzipped me, and my dress pooled to the floor.
“Just give me you.”
With a look I knew well, he led me to his bed, and did just that.
Present Day—Richland
COLLIN HAD WORSHIPPED my body and made love to me for hours that night, and I’d pushed the bizarre encounter out of my mind. I’d slowly learned over the next six months that he knew about a dozen pressure points on each side of my body incredibly well, and every time we were in public and I did something he deemed stupid, he would be quick to show me, along with commanding me not to show my pain. If we were alone, he would dig his fingers into a pressure point until I ended up on the floor, begging him to stop. But it wasn’t until just a few hours after we said “I do” that I understood I’d never known Collin at all, and that pressure points were the least of my worries with him. The guy I’d been making excuses for, the guy I’d loved, was no longer there.
He was still tall and handsome, with sandy blond hair and dark blue eyes. He still knew how to charm anyone into believing whatever fell from his lips, and he still held the hearts of my family. But everything I’d loved about him was now gone. My love for him died the moment he finally crushed my spirit, and I’d just been going through the motions, and praying for better days, every day for the last two and a half years.
My hands froze when Collin’s arms slowly wrapped around my waist that night before I was able to calm myself enough to continue washing the dishes from dinner.
“Are you almost done?” he asked softly; his lips brushed the back of my neck as he spoke.
“Yeah.”
His hands moved to slip under the bottom of my shirt, and I suddenly wanted to have more dishes that needed to be washed.
“Then hurry.”
I didn’t.
As soon as the last plate was in the dishwasher, Collin was pulling me back toward the bedroom. I don’t remember him undressing me, and I wasn’t sure when his clothes had joined mine on the floor. I just knew he was laying me back on the bed, and I was losing my grip on my safe place to block out what was happening. I needed to get back to my safe place in my head; I didn’t want to be a part of this.
Gripping my chin in one of his hands, he forced me to look up at him as he moved inside me. Each thrust made my body jerk against the bed as I felt my hate for him grow. My arms lay unmoving at my sides, my body stiff as I fought with myself to push him away.
He could’ve been fucking a corpse and there would have been little difference.
Releasing my jaw, he sat back and moved his hand between us, and every nerve ending came alive when his fingers brushed against me. My head fell to the side and I stared at the window as my body started responding to him. I clenched my jaw shut against the shaking, and began hating myself for feeling any kind of pleasure from him. My throat tightened against the tears I was holding back, and my body jerked with silent sobs when he forced an orgasm from me.
Leaning back over me, he quickened his pace until he found his own release, and seconds later he was moving my head so I was facing him again. If he saw the wetness in my eyes, he didn’t comment on it.
He pressed his lips to mine firmly. “I love you.”
“I love you, too,” I managed to say past the tightness in my throat.
“Go clean up.”
As soon as he released my chin, I was moving out from underneath him and off the bed to walk into the bathroom. After cleaning myself, I stood in front of the mirror just staring at what I’d become.
My brown hair was dull and flat, and might have started thinning, but it was still too thick to be sure. My blue eyes had no life left in them, and I wondered what people saw in them even when I pretended everything was fine. I’d lost forty pounds when I’d only had about five I could lose when I’d met Collin. Bones stuck out that shouldn’t, making the bruises on my stomach and tops of my thighs that much more apparent.
It wasn’t that I didn’t want to eat—I couldn’t. I was always too afraid of what was about to happen, or was coming off whatever had just happened. If I did manage to eat, the stress from my life with Collin usually had it souring in my stomach soon after. And the bruises—there was never enough time for the old ones to disappear before there were new ones there. But Collin was smart: he never put them somewhere they could be seen. Which is why knowing pressure points and how to instill fear were his biggest allies.
I took in my whole reflection, and grimaced. Twenty-two, and I looked like I was days away from death’s door. Maybe one day God would be kind enough to just take me, because Lord knew there was no other way to escape Collin.
Chapter 3
Knox
Present Day—Thatch, Washington
“OH WOW. HARDER. Harder. Oh my God, yes. Oh, it feels so good. Yes. Yes, I’m almost the—”
I crushed my mouth down onto the girl’s to get her to shut up if even for a few seconds. She hadn’t stopped talking once since I’d met her, and the talking only increased after the clothes came off. Depending on the girl and the talking she did, I loved it when they said exactly what they wanted in bed. But I was struggling to keep my erection with the way this girl sounded.
As soon as her high-pitched moan sounded against the kiss, I slowed my movements in a way that I hoped had her thinking I had gotten off, too.
Christ . . . I was turning into a girl. I was faking a goddamn orgasm just to be done with sex. Graham and Deacon were never going to let me live this down. And then I realized I was thinking about my best friends during sex, and I wondered what in the hell this girl had actually done to me. Worst mistake I’d ever made. The way she tried to make her voice sound like she was a child should have been a clue.
When I thought it was safe to move, I pulled out and immediately got off my bed and headed toward the bathroom.
“Oh my God, that was amazing. Really, so amazing. Thank you so much. Oh, I just can’t. I can’t. Oh my God.”
After disposing of the barely used condom, I gripped the sink and bit back a groan as she continued talking.
“Come back to bed. I need to have snuggles after sex.”
“Snuggles?” I whispered, and looked over my shoulder.
“If you take any longer in there, I’m going to be ready for another round by the time you get back here!”
I rolled my eyes and pushed away from the sink, but as soon as I was in my room, I searched for clothes to put on.
She sat up and looked at me with wide eyes. “What are you doing? Aren’t we going to snuggle?”
“Uh, snuggle? No, not today. I have work in . . .” I glanced down to my bare wrist and made a face. “Actually right now. So you need to go.”
“Oh really? Are you sure, I mean I can stay here. I can cook for you when you get back and stuff. Or I can just be here in your bed ready for another go; it will be great. I’ll wait for you.”
I paused from where I was grabbing a clean shirt—one that she hadn’t touched—and gave her a look like she’d lost her mind. “I’m sorry, what was that last thing you said?”
She looked around like she had to think about it, then said in an unsure voice, “I’ll wait for you?”
I huffed and went back to getting dressed, but didn’t look at her again. “Yeah, no, I don’t need anyone waiting for me. But like I said, I’m late for work, so I need you to go.”
I heard her scoff as she got off the bed, and in less than a minute she was storming out of my room. By the loud “Oh!” that came from my roommates not long after, I’d bet she left while carrying her clothes.
“Well, damn, what’d you do? She seemed like she was going to be easy to keep happy, Knox, and she was thinking of a hundred ways
to kill you when she left.”
I turned around to look at Deacon, one of my roommates as well as longtime best friend, and shrugged. “She was. It was just time for her to go.” I walked past him into the living room, and a smile crossed my face when I saw my favorite girl walking toward our kitchen.
“Good God, Grey, pregnancy looks damn good on you!” Hooking an arm around her neck, I pulled her close to kiss the top of her head, then released her. Keeping my eyes trained on her brother, Graham—my other roommate and best friend—I said loudly, “When are you going to tell your husband that it’s really my child, and you’re madly in love with me?”
Graham turned to glare at me, but before he could say anything, Deacon cut in: “Dude, you know it’s my baby. Stop trying to steal my girl.”
“Both of you can fuck off,” Graham grumbled. “It’s bad enough knowing my sister had sex.”
Jagger, Grey’s husband, just laughed and nodded in my direction before starting up his conversation with Graham again. Deacon and I had been declaring our “love” for Graham’s sister ever since we were sixteen just to piss him off. Neither of us saw her as anything other than family, but he was the only one who never understood that.
“You wanna tell me what happened?” Grey asked, and I looked down at her with my brow furrowed.
“What?”
She gestured toward the front door with her head. “My husband and I just had to see one of your nasty naked skanks walk through here, so you at least owe me an apology for that, Knox Alexander. But she looked pissed, and I know the only time you piss off women is when they realize you won’t be calling them again, so what happened?”
The smile slipped from my face, and I shrugged as I looked up to focus on the wall behind Grey. “Nothing. Like I told Deacon, it was just time for her to go.”
“And I think you’re lying to me,” she whispered.
My gaze darted back to Grey’s gauging expression, and I dropped my voice to her same level. “Drop it, Grey.”
She opened her mouth, but before she could say anything, Jagger came up behind her. “That girl looked pissed, Knox. I mean, not like the rest of them don’t, but it’s usually well after the fact.”
Grey raised an eyebrow, and I shook my head. “You guys keep saying that like there’s a lot of them or something.”
Both of them laughed, and Grey said, “Are you kidding? Knox, I’ve never known you not to have at least four girls a week.”
I swallowed thickly, and wondered how I had turned into this guy. But it didn’t take long to remember that it didn’t matter anymore anyway. It stopped mattering four and a half years ago, right about the time I turned into Deacon and Graham.
Grey abruptly stopped laughing. “Except . . .” She trailed off, and her eyes narrowed like she was trying to sort through the jumbled mess in my head. “Except when you were in college,” she mumbled softly.
I shook my head slowly. “Don’t,” I warned, but judging from the way Grey’s eyes widened, there hadn’t been enough force behind the word.
She briefly glanced over to where Deacon and Graham were standing in the living room watching a baseball game, then whispered, “Is that what’s wrong, Knox?”
“Grey,” I began again, but her next word brought me up short.
“Still?”
“Still?” I murmured, and huffed a laugh. “Wow. Who knew one word could make me feel so pathetic?”
Winter 2009—Seattle
I STOOD IN front of the door restlessly as I waited for it to open. I should’ve called. I should’ve asked her earlier in the week if she’d had plans today or tonight since she’d assumed I did—but I hadn’t. Now I was standing there like a dumbass with two bouquets of flowers, hoping I wouldn’t have to leave so Harlow could go on a date tonight.
The door finally opened, and Mrs. Evans’s face brightened. “Knox Alexander, why doesn’t it surprise me that you’re knocking on my door this afternoon?”
I failed at hiding my grin, and handed her the first bouquet. “First, these are for you.”
“Why, thank you!”
“Honestly, Mrs. Evans, I’m just worried that I’m not the only guy showing up today.” I glanced inside the house, and asked, “Does my girl have a date tonight?”
She raised one eyebrow, the action making her look younger, and so much like Harlow. “I’m not sure,” she said playfully. “Shouldn’t I be asking you that?”
My face fell for a second before I was able to compose myself. All I wanted to be able to do was take Harlow out on a date—but I was afraid to risk even that. I cleared my throat and said, “Well, I’m hoping she’ll let me spend the day with her. If it’s okay with you,” I added quickly.
Mrs. Evans rolled her eyes and stepped back to let me in the house. “I doubt my daughter would ever choose anything over a day with you, and you are always welcome in our home.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Evans.”
“Harlow’s in her room. Remember: no closed doors,” she said strictly, then turned to walk toward the kitchen with her flowers. Just as I started up the stairs, she called out, “I’ll set an extra place for you at the table tonight, Knox.”
I stopped to look at her, and said sincerely, “Thank you.” She and her husband would never know how thankful I was that they didn’t try to keep me from the girl upstairs.
I hurried up the stairs and barely slowed long enough to knock on Harlow’s door. As soon as I heard her mumbled “Yeah?” I walked into her room, left the door as wide as it would go, and stopped trying to fight my smile when I took her in.
She was facing away from me, and lying on her stomach on the bed. Her feet were in the air, crossed at the ankles, and her eyes were glued to the book in front of her. Her hair was piled messily on her head, one side of her oversize shirt was falling off her shoulder, and the fitted black sleep pants she was wearing hugged every curve of her perfectly.
It wasn’t morning, but looking at her then, I knew I wanted to wake up to this Harlow for the rest of my life.
She still hadn’t looked up, so I took a few more steps into the room, then brought the bouquet of poppies in front of me. “For the girl who hates roses.”
Harlow gasped and whirled around on her bed as soon as she heard my voice, and had launched herself at me by the time I finished talking.
I tossed the flowers on her bed in time to catch her, and tightened my arms around her when she did the same to me.
“Happy Valentine’s Day, Low,” I whispered against her shoulder, and gripped her tighter before setting her down on the floor. Something caught in my chest when her eyes met mine, and I wanted to live in that moment.
Have you ever looked at someone . . . just one look, and you knew that was it? There would never be anyone else who would compare? That was Harlow for me. Every time.
Her hands slid to my shoulders, then back to my face, like she was making sure I was real. “What are you doing here?”
I gave her an amused look, like the answer to her question was obvious. “Seeing you.”
“But it’s Valentine’s Day. Shouldn’t you be going somewhere with your girlfriend?”
Girlfriend was a very loose term, but every time I tried to explain that to Harlow, she thought I was only saying it for her benefit. “No, I’m where I’m supposed to be.”
She tilted her head away, but not before I saw heat fill her cheeks and the corners of her mouth tilt up in a faint smile. When she looked back at me, her expression was stern. “That’s not very nice to do to her,” she informed me.
“Harlow, trust me. There’s nowhere I need to be more than where I am right now.”
She bit down on her bottom lip and looked like she might argue as her blue eyes searched mine. Just when I started to repeat myself, she huffed and her mouth quirked up in a lopsided smile. “If you were anyone else, I really would feel bad for your girlfriend . . . but you’re not, and you know I’m selfish enough to want you here.”
“Then it looks lik
e I’m staying.” Like I would’ve left. Leaning around her, I grabbed the poppies off the bed and held them up to her. “For you.”
Harlow gave a giddy smile, then took the bouquet like it was something precious and breakable. Her eyes lifted to meet mine from where she’d been looking over her flowers, and she said, “Thank you, and perfect timing. My monthlies just met their unavoidable end with the trash.”
I followed her stare, and let out a low laugh when I saw half a dozen little cards piled up on her dresser. I’d sent her poppies every month since I’d met her, and each one had come with a card letting her know I was still waiting for her.
My head whipped back around and my eyes widened when I felt Harlow’s body press close to mine. Her head was tilted back as her vibrant eyes studied my face, and each breath made her chest brush against mine. My hand automatically went to her waist, and I tried to tell myself it was just to steady myself from being thrown off by her sudden closeness. I knew it was a lie even as I repeated it in my head over and over. My eyes fell to her lips. It would’ve been so easy to bend down and capture them with mine. So easy, and so wanted.
“Harlow,” I warned, my voice hoarse.
“One of these days . . .” She trailed off, and brought the flowers up from where she’d been holding them down by her side. “One of these days I’ll be able to kiss you to show you my thanks.”
I nodded slowly, absentmindedly, and cradled her face in my hands. “One day,” I promised, “and I’ll be waiting every day until then.” I gently pressed my mouth to the tip of her nose, then her forehead. “We need to get out of this bedroom.”
A soft giggle bubbled up from her chest, and she reluctantly pulled away from me. After clearing her throat she looked around her room, then to the door. “Um, right. Movie downstairs?”
“Movie,” I agreed.
“YOU HAVE GOT to be shitting me,” Graham said as soon as I was back in my room at the frat house late that night. “You know what, no, I’m gonna give you a chance to give me a different story.”
To the Stars (Thatch #2) Page 4