Zane shrugged. “No big deal.”
“Hey, don’t tell her that,” Rush protested. “There were, like, a hundred guys, all armed, in this one room, and we had to take out all of them. Some of them had rocket launchers and at least half had AKs. We were lucky to escape with our fucking lives, I tell you.”
His younger brother rolled his eyes. “Collins was in a bar, drinking with two others. I told him we had a proposition for him. So he came outside and heard what we had to say and decided he wanted to do it.”
Ava blinked, visions of firefights and Rush having to shoot his way out of a building full of mercenaries gradually fading. “So…that’s it?”
Rush scowled at Zane. “I was trying to impress a girl, douchebag. Way to fuck up my rep, man.”
“Yes,” Zane said, ignoring Rush. “That’s it.”
Ava let out a breath. “Well, thank God for that,” she said, and meant every word. “I was worried about you guys.”
“It’s okay, honey,” Rush said smugly, full of his usual cocky arrogance. “These crime dudes are a bunch of pussies. I was fine.”
She shot him a look, trying to hide how unsettled and off-balance she felt. “Yes, and I could have come along and been fine too.”
“Uh-uh. This was a brothers-only mission, like I told you.” He jerked his head toward Collins, who was glowering on the couch, and grinned at her. “Talk to him if you want to make sure.”
There was pride in Rush’s voice, no mistaking it. Like he was pleased with himself for doing this for her. And somehow that made the emotion sitting in her chest like a lump of cold lead even worse. The bullet that had hit her the moment she’d seen Rush.
She loved him, and love raised the stakes. Love made everything so much scarier, so much more complicated. Love made her want things. Things she wasn’t sure she had the courage to ask for.
She swallowed, forcing herself to concentrate on answering his question. “I…I don’t think I need to.”
Surprise flickered across Rush’s face. “Are you sure? I thought you’d want to—”
“No. I mean, thanks.” Which sounded ungrateful, especially when he’d seemed so pleased with himself, so she added, “Really, thank you. But…I think it’s probably best if I try to put it behind me.”
God, she sounded so much like her father she wanted to cringe.
At that moment Quinn threw down his pen and pushed away the piece of paper he’d been writing on. “Well, I’m going to lock this guy up in the royal suite for the night, so now would be the time to talk if you’re going to.”
Rush held up a hand as if to stop him. “Just give her a minute.”
“Rush, it’s okay,” she said, her chest aching, because she was scared. Because she wasn’t sure she had the courage to do this with him after all. “You can take him away, Quinn.”
Quinn gave her an unreadable glance, then he walked over to where Collins was sitting and pulled him onto his feet. “Come on, let’s get you tucked in for the night.”
As Quinn urged Collins up the stairs, Rush frowned at her. “What’s up?”
She gave him a shrug, her throat tight. “Long day,” she forced out.
“Yeah, right.” He shot a look at Zane. “Any particular reason you’re still hanging around?”
His brother’s eyes widened. “Uh, someone mentioned a party?”
Rush scowled at him. “Well, I’m not in a party mood. And neither is this little girl here. So if you don’t mind…” It was obvious he wanted Zane to leave.
Great. Just wonderful. He’d picked up on her mood and no doubt wanted to grill her about it. And then she’d have to figure out some lie that didn’t involve him or what she felt for him. Some way to brush him off so he wouldn’t know.
Aren’t you supposed to be an adult woman who can ask for what she wants?
That’s right, she was. But there was a problem. She was starting to understand what she wanted, and what she wanted was everything. And the thought of telling him that, of asking for it, seemed impossible. It was too much, too big. And if he refused…well, that was almost too painful to contemplate.
Zane sighed. “Fine. No party then.” His blue gaze settled on Ava. “Sure you’re okay?”
She tried to gather herself and at least look like she was fine. “Yeah. Like I said, it was a long day at work and I’m tired.”
“Okay. Well, I guess Quinn might need a hand.” With a last indecipherable glance at Rush, Zane followed Quinn and Collins up the stairs.
After he’d gone, there was a small silence, Rush’s gaze suddenly intent on her.
She took a breath. Coward. “You know, I think I might take off—”
“What’s going on, Ava?” There was no teasing in his tone this time. That pride that seemed so endearing and had hit her so hard was gone. Now it was just a flat demand for an answer.
For some reason that made the hurt cut even deeper, and she had to steel herself to look at him. “It’s nothing. I’ve had a hell of a day and—”
“No, don’t give me that bullshit. I went out and got your guy for you. And now you’re…” He stopped. “I don’t know. I thought you’d be happier about it.”
I got your guy for you…
Ava’s throat tightened. “I am happy. And I’m grateful, I told you that.”
Frustration crossed his face then, and just as quickly, it cleared. He flicked a glance toward the stairs as if checking no one was around, then he came toward her, his long legs closing the distance.
Panic fluttered inside her, her hand coming up to stop him almost before she’d thought about it. “Wait,” she said thickly. “Just…wait.”
He halted, frowning. “What?”
She didn’t know what to say, didn’t know how to explain it to him when she really couldn’t explain it to herself. All that seemed clear was that he couldn’t come closer, couldn’t touch her, because if he did…
He’ll hurt you. Because they always do, the people you love.
And that was true, wasn’t it? First she’d lost her mother, and then her grief-stricken father had cut himself off from her, shutting her out, seemingly either unable or unwilling to see how much his daughter had needed him now that her mother was gone.
You weren’t special enough, you know that. You weren’t special enough to him.
Ice water trickled down her spine, making her shiver.
All these years she’d always told herself that her father had cut himself off from her because he was grieving. That it hadn’t ever had anything to do with her. But what if it did? It had been a long time since her mother had died and the pain of grief had dulled, but her father remained as emotionally unavailable to her as ever.
God, if she hadn’t been special enough for her father, what made her special enough for Rush? What if she opened herself up to him, told him what she wanted from him, and he cut her off, shut her out like her father had?
The pain deepened, because she couldn’t bear the thought of that. Of opening herself up to him and risking him refusing her. It was better not to say anything. To keep living with her father, where it was lonely, sure, but at least it didn’t hurt. At least, not anymore.
“Ava.” Rush took a step closer.
She sucked in a breath, her ribs sore and aching as she inhaled. “I’m okay, honestly.” She forced herself to meet his gaze. “I’m really just tired. I’ve had a hell of a day.”
It wasn’t convincing and they both knew it.
“Why don’t you come upstairs?” It sounded light, but she could hear the strain in it all the same and knew he was forcing it just like she was. “I know a really good massage technique.”
Her jaw felt tight, her shoulders even tighter. “Not tonight.”
“Tomorrow, then.” The light note in his voice had faded away, making it sound like a demand. “You can do me tomorrow and then I’ll do you.”
“Not tomorrow.” She turned away. “I…should go. I’ve got to drive—”
“Ava.�
�� And suddenly he wasn’t a few feet away, but right in front of her, right in her face, sparks of anger glittering in his gaze. “What the fuck is going on?”
She tried to sidestep him, but his hands flashed out, catching her by the hips, holding her right where she was, unable to escape. And of course her body reacted like it hadn’t had sex in centuries, her nipples tightening, an ache building between her legs.
Anger licked up inside her. Why did he have to make this so difficult? Why couldn’t he just let her go? He didn’t seem to have any problems with letting Candy walk away, so why was he suddenly getting all possessive with her?
“Let me go,” she said, trying to hold on to her patience, to not give away her desperation. “Please, Rush. I just want to go home.”
But he only put one hand under her chin, tipping her head back so she had to meet his intense gaze. “I don’t give a shit. Something’s changed and I want to know what the fuck it is.”
I love you and I’m afraid. I’m afraid of not being special enough for you.
But she clamped down hard on the words, refusing to let them out. She’d had a lot of hurt in her life, had lost people close to her, and she didn’t want to be hurt anymore. And if that made her a coward, then so be it. At least she’d be a safe coward. At least she’d be a coward who’d managed to keep hold of what was left of her heart.
“Nothing’s changed,” she snapped, the anger at him for making this hard overwhelming her. “I just figured out what I want.”
Perhaps he knew what was coming because he stiffened abruptly. “Oh yeah? And what’s that?”
She stared up at him, making herself meet his gaze. “Not you.”
He blinked, like he’d just taken a blow to the head. “What do you mean, not me?”
“What do you think I mean?” She shouldn’t say it, she knew that. She shouldn’t keep going, digging into the wound and making it worse. But she couldn’t seem to make herself shut up. She was like an animal caught in a trap, chewing at her own limb in desperation to get free. “I don’t want to come upstairs tonight, or tomorrow. I don’t want to come upstairs the day after or the day after that. I don’t want you, Rush. I thought I did, but I was wrong. It was a mistake. Is that clear enough for you?”
—
Wait. Where the fuck had all this come from? What the fuck was going on?
Rush tightened his hand on her hip and firmed his grip on her chin, trying to figure out what she was saying, because none of it made any sense. “What was a mistake?” he demanded. “What are you talking about?”
There was tension in her jaw, in her whole body, as if she was holding herself braced for a blow. “I’m talking about you and me. This whole…sex thing.”
Nope, he still didn’t understand. She thought that him baring his soul to her that night had just been a “sex thing”?
What the fuck was it, then?
He took a breath, his brain not working quite as it should because he was still focused on Collins and the success of the mission, feeling so goddamn pleased with himself that he’d had managed to get hold of the bastard, given Ava a shot at bringing Troy to justice.
But…this wasn’t about Collins and the mission. This was about them, and something was wrong, that was clear. He’d noticed it as soon as she’d walked in the door and her gaze had met his, and he’d seen what he’d thought was fear in her eyes.
He didn’t know what had scared her, but she’d barely looked at Collins, hadn’t even wanted to speak to him, and that in itself should have been a warning.
Are you sure you don’t know what scared her? She was looking right at you, prick.
He went cold, absolutely fucking icy all over. “Was it me?” The question came out as a demand but he didn’t soften it. “What did I do?”
There were shadows under her eyes, her freckles pronounced on her pale skin. She wasn’t wearing a lick of makeup and her red hair was escaping her ponytail, but he didn’t give a shit about any of that. She was so fucking beautiful. He wanted her so damn much. Even with the fear bright in her gaze.
The cold sank deeper inside him, into his blood, spreading through his veins. “You’re scared—I can see it in your eyes. Is it me? Is it something I did?”
Her lashes fell, veiling her gaze. She said nothing.
His heart began to beat faster, harder.
Of course it’s you. There’s no one else in the room to be scared of.
He moved his thumb over her chin, trying to be gentle, take it slow. “What did I do? Come on, honey. Tell me. Whatever it is, I’ll make it better, I promise.”
But she looked away, her jaw tight. “Let me go.”
“Ava.”
“I mean it!” She shoved him, her palms against his chest, a surprisingly strong movement that tore his grasp from her and had him taking a couple of stumbling steps back. “Don’t touch me.”
There was a thin edge in her voice that sounded like desperation and he stared at her, trying to figure out just what the fuck was happening and why everything had suddenly changed. Something painful unwound inside him.
Maybe you didn’t do anything, Maybe it’s just you.
He tried to ignore that thought, but the cold in his blood spread to his heart anyway, making him feel like he had a chest full of ice cubes.
She had her chin lifted and there were now bright spots of color on her cheeks, the red flush stark against her white skin. Her eyes glittered with something angry and hurt, and he wanted to reach out and grab her, tell her he was sorry for whatever it was he’d done, that he’d promise to make it up to her.
Yeah, you want to beg like a whiny-ass bitch. Pathetic.
“Okay,” he said into the terrible silence, a harsh, grinding edge to his voice. “Okay. So a couple of good fucks and it’s over, huh?”
Her throat moved in a convulsive swallow, but she didn’t look away. “Yes. That’s right.”
It shouldn’t hurt. He didn’t want it to. “And it’s fine for me to spill my fucking guts to you,” he went on, because for some goddamn reason he couldn’t seem to shut the fuck up, “but you won’t even tell me what the problem is now?”
The curve of her lovely mouth went tight, the expression on her face shuttered. “Looks that way.”
The warm feeling that had been glowing in his chest since Sunday began to fade like a fire deprived of oxygen, flickering, the heat dying out.
He didn’t understand this. Not why she wasn’t talking to him, not her fear and not the anger glinting in her eyes. Not any of it. And he most especially didn’t understand the pain that was slowly unwinding in him, a pain that somehow caught him deeper than any punch or gunshot or knife wound. A pain that reminded him of sitting in his jail cell waiting for the call his dad had promised him, the one that would get him out, the one that would tell him the old bastard gave a shit. A call that had never come.
You know why it hurts, dumbass. Because you did what you shouldn’t have done. You let yourself fucking care.
A bitter laugh swelled in his throat, because it was so fucking true and so fucking obvious, and he should have seen it coming a mile off. Despite everything he’d told himself since he’d left prison, he’d let her become important to him. And in doing so he’d handed her a goddamn knife. A knife she was now using to cut him into little pieces.
You thought she wouldn’t? Come on, they always do.
Yeah, they always did, didn’t they? His father, in many ways, had been the most honest of the bunch. At least he’d made no secret of the fact that he hated his middle son. Yet of course Rush had still cared about that, had still let it hurt him.
He shouldn’t have cared, he just should have walked away from her after the party at Troy’s ranch the way he’d meant to. But no, he’d stayed and let Ava soothe him, let her hold him, and now it was too late. Now his lungs felt like they were full of broken glass and breathing hurt. Everything hurt.
And still he couldn’t seem to stop the words from spilling out of his mouth,
giving away how much this meant to him, his voice all choked and thick. “I thought you trusted me.”
“I thought I did.” There was a kind of fierce determination in her voice and in her eyes, as if she was challenging him. “But I guess I don’t after all.”
You fucking idiot. Did you imagine you’d found something with her? Seriously, why would a woman like her want anything to do with a douchebag like you?
He couldn’t think of a single reason, not one. He’d opened himself up to her, told her everything about his shitty relationship with his father, his fears that there was something wrong with him, something gone bad inside him, and she’d held him, told him it wasn’t his fault, that it wasn’t him, and he’d believed her. He’d felt good about himself for the first time in years.
If that wasn’t enough for her, then what more could he do? He didn’t have anything more to give.
At least now you know, right? You bared your soul and she still didn’t want it.
“You’re a fucking liar,” he said hoarsely.
“I’m sorry.” Her voice trembled, something suspiciously like tears glittering in her eyes. “But I want more from my life than you can give me.”
There was nothing left of the warm glow in his chest, of the blooming thing in his heart. There was nothing left but cold, dead ash. He felt numb, as if he’d lost something infinitely precious to him.
Well, fuck her. If she didn’t want him, fuck her. He still had his pride, and if she was done, then so was he.
“Fine,” he said casually, forcing the numbness away and grabbing on to the anger, lifting a shoulder to prove how unconcerned he was. “No skin off my nose, sweetheart.” No honey, not anymore. Never again. “I’m not a fan of complicated, and you’ve got complicated written all over you.”
It wasn’t fair, he knew that. She wasn’t as experienced in knowing how to hurt people as he was, which gave the advantage to him. And he took it, because he was a petty motherfucker. Because she’d hurt him and that wasn’t fair either. Not at all.
Pain flared in her eyes, the sharp bright glitter of it like a knife in his own chest. And part of him felt like the biggest prick in the entire universe for hurting her, while at the same time, another part was savagely glad that he could hurt her.
Take Me Harder Page 29