by J. S. Scott
“She’s pretty and I’m just curious,” I grumbled to myself, rationalizing the reason she was still downstairs in my kitchen. I didn’t acknowledge the fact that I hadn’t felt any kind of interest in anything for years, not even curiosity.
I dressed hurriedly, then went down the carpeted stairs barefoot to see what the hell the crazy chick was doing in the kitchen.
“Good morning.”
God, her voice was cheerful, and much too happy this early in the morning. “Coffee,” I rumbled.
“Okay. Obviously you’re not a morning person,” she chirped. “Coffee is ready. I ran a load of dishes, so the clean mugs are in the cupboard.”
She was sitting at the table with the local newspaper open, sipping a cup of freshly brewed coffee, and devouring a breakfast that was piled high on her plate.
Obviously, she wasn’t about to jump up and serve me, and I was glad. It would have made me completely uncomfortable and irritable.
I dished up my own breakfast, then brought the plate and a cup of coffee to the table. “What are you looking for?” I was curious about what she saw in the local news. Nothing much happened in Amesport. It was the same shit every day.
“Nothing really. I just wanted to see what’s happening in the world.”
“Who cares? None of the news is exactly positive these days.”
She finished chewing her toast and swallowed before she looked up to answer. “Actually, it’s not all bad. The local news is kind of interesting. There’s a good article here about the Amesport traditions in the summer. They have some lovely festivals, and supposedly a nice farmers’ market. Some lady named Elsie Renfrew wrote it. Do you know her?”
I took a slug of coffee, noticing that even in the light of day, Samantha didn’t seem to care that my face was all scarred to hell. There was absolutely no reaction to my physical appearance. Not a single flicker of revulsion. “I don’t know her personally, but she’s a friend of Beatrice’s. She’s elderly, and her family has been here for generations.”
“You mean that sweet old lady who gave me the black stone?”
I looked up from my food. “Yeah. I got one, too. She’s bat-shit crazy.”
“Why do you say that? Okay, maybe she’s unconventional, but she’s interesting.”
“If you say so,” I agreed readily, enjoying my breakfast too much to argue.
“Do you like it here? I know you haven’t been here long.”
I paused to consider her question. “I don’t know. It’s a house.”
“I was talking about Amesport. And you have an amazing house.”
I shrugged as I began to finish up my food, eating like a guy who was starving. “I haven’t seen much of the actual town. I don’t get out much.”
“Why not? It seems like a nice place to live.”
What the hell was wrong with her? Didn’t she get that my face wasn’t something people wanted to see? I saw myself in the mirror when I couldn’t avoid it, and my reflection was fucked up.
“You ask why way too much. You’re starting to sound like one of my old shrinks,” I told her unhappily.
“Because we barely know each other,” she answered, sounding amused. “Generally, conversation acquaints two people much better than silence.”
I put my fork onto my plate and snatched up my coffee. Honestly, all I wanted to do was get to know her carnally. She had the same look today as she’d had yesterday, only the sundress she wore was different. This morning, the garment was white with touches of color in the embroidered flowers that adorned it. Her hair was already escaping from the clip she’d used to secure it behind her head. She wore very little makeup, just enough to highlight her mesmerizing eyes and luscious pair of lips that I’d love to see wrapped around my cock.
She reminded me of everything that was good in the world, but that was other people’s lives, not mine. I existed in fucking darkness, and I deserved to be there.
I surveyed her quietly, unable to stop myself from drinking in the light she seemed to bring to the kitchen just with her teasing smile.
I wanted to tell her I had another way to get to know her. It involved my cock deep inside her, and her husky voice calling to me as she climaxed so violently that her entire body was shaking.
“Get used to the silence. I don’t talk much,” I said in an effort to stop any further conversation.
“Why?”
I gave her an irritated look, reminding her that I was getting sick of that word. She smiled back at me knowingly, and I could recognize the fact that she was joking.
“Don’t say it again,” I warned.
She hesitated for a moment, then lifted her brow in challenge as she got up from the table carrying her empty plate. “Why?” she finally squeaked.
Damned if my cock didn’t swell until it was ready to burst from the zipper of my jeans. She was so cheeky that I couldn’t work up the effort to get pissed off.
She knew she was baiting me, and I knew it, too.
I stood, then moved faster than I had in a long time to pin her against the kitchen counter. I slapped a hand down on each side of her, trapping her curvy body between my larger form and the counter.
“Keep it up, and I might start getting impatient for what you promised,” I warned.
She looked up at me, and our eyes clashed in a battle of wills. “God, you’re so handsome, Xander,” she said in a breathless voice.
I flinched at her words. “Don’t,” I demanded angrily. For fuck’s sake, I knew my face was a mess. Was she screwing with me?
She lifted a hand and touched my cheek, tracing my scars gently. It was all I could do not to jerk her hand away. I really didn’t like anybody touching me anymore.
“Don’t what? Don’t tell you that you’re attractive? Whether you see it or not, you are incredibly hot.”
“I’m scarred, woman. Can’t you see?”
“My vision is just fine,” she said in a gentle voice.
Her touch was soft and warm, and all I wanted to do was drown in the feel of her pressed against me, her hand caressing my cheek. When she finally wrapped her arms around my neck, I buried my face in her hair and inhaled deeply, reveling in the light floral scent that seemed to cling to her skin. “Jesus, you smell good.”
It had been so damn long since I’d felt the tenderness of a woman, and it was disarming me. I knew she wasn’t playing me. Her attraction was genuine, and the chemistry between us was an unknown sensation that I’d never experienced before.
I’d screwed plenty of women in any number of different ways before I’d become an addict, but nothing compared to the fierce emotion her touch was generating right now.
I wanted to push her away from me, but I couldn’t. She was like crack to me, and just as dangerous, but her warmth sucked me in.
She laid her head on my chest, and by the time I finally released her, I had no idea how much time had passed.
I wanted to kiss her so damn bad that my gut ached with longing, but the last thing I wanted to do was scare her off.
I had no damn idea why I didn’t want her to run away. I wanted nearly every person on the planet to keep their distance, but not her.
We stood with our gazes locked, and I was shaken to my core by the sense of comfort just holding Samantha gave me. Not only was she warm and soft, but I could almost sense her emotions, her empathy.
“Fuck!” I cursed, then turned around and stomped out of the room.
One day!
She’d been here for less than twenty-four hours, and my whole world was starting to change. I didn’t like it, and it would never last. I was completely fucked up, and I wouldn’t wish myself onto any woman, even if it was just sex.
I grabbed my keys from the side table in the family room, ready to leave before I could make an ass out of myself and do something I’d most likely regret.
I heard her call my name, and the desire to turn back to her was gut wrenching. I made it back to the kitchen table before I stopped, realizing
I had no business wanting to be close to Sam.
Instinctively, I did exactly what I always did when I was disgusted with myself. I picked up the mug I’d been using from the table and flung it against the kitchen wall, satisfied as I heard it shatter into pieces, reminding me that I was just like that glassware: broken and unable to ever be the same again.
Without saying another word, I left the kitchen and walked away from the woman who was trying to tempt me into believing that I could ever see a sliver of light again.
I ended up at Liam’s house, sitting at his table as I watched him eat breakfast. I’d resisted opening up to him when he’d first dropped over to my house with Micah. But when he shared the fact that he’d gotten a little caught up in drugs and alcohol while he was in California, I’d found a kindred spirit who actually got some of my bullshit. Liam had never really been an addict to the same extent that I was, but he’d partied enough and drank enough to understand the mentality of somebody who needed their next drink or fix to survive.
“I get that you don’t want to get involved with somebody,” Liam advised. “But you’re going to have to take a chance eventually. You can’t stay in solitary forever. In fact, it’s dangerous.”
“It’s easier,” I admitted.
“But it sucks.”
“Sometimes,” I agreed reluctantly.
Liam pushed his plate away. “All the time, and don’t try to bullshit me. Being clean can be fucking lonely. I’ve been there. All of my friends were still partying, and I didn’t want to be around temptation. It’s enough to drive a man back to drinking again.”
“I’ve wanted to fall off the wagon.” Hell, more times than I could count.
Liam glared at me questioningly. “Why didn’t you?”
“I don’t want to disappoint my brothers . . . again.”
“Then you’re going to have to join society eventually, Xander. Staying in that big house alone is just asking for trouble. Sooner or later, you’re going to get depressed enough that you don’t give a damn whether you drink or not. You’ll convince yourself that it won’t really affect Micah and Julian’s life all that much. You’ll rationalize hitting the bottle or popping some pills. I know. I’ve been there.”
Yeah, I had to admit, I’d gone there. But then I’d remembered every disappointed look Micah and Julian had given me, and I’d stopped myself from searching out a bottle.
“I hate my scars,” I answered hoarsely. I never admitted that I didn’t want to scare small children and animals with my face, but for some reason, I wanted Liam to understand. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to go out. I felt like I couldn’t.
“The scars on the inside are a hell of a lot worse than the ones on the outside,” he said adamantly. “Plenty of people aren’t perfect in some way or another. You’re making your external appearance a hell of a lot bigger than it needs to be.”
I’d never really asked Liam a whole lot about his own bad experiences with drugs and alcohol, but more times than not, he was pretty insightful.
“People can only see the outside.”
“Then show them who you are. Get out and visit that massive amount of family you have here. Pick up a guitar again. Play your music again. You dumped the most important thing in your life. Don’t you think it’s time to take it back?”
“No,” I told him flatly.
My music had been everything. My life. My heart. My fucking soul. But I didn’t feel that way anymore. I was pretty much numb the majority of the time, and I’d lost the ability to communicate with music.
“I think it’s time,” he contradicted. “You can’t just lose something like that and stay sane. Tessa taught me that. I wanted to protect her, but I ended up stifling her. I took away the one thing she loved, never having faith that she could find her way back to ice skating without something horrible happening to her. But it was finding what she loved again that really set her free. In the process, she fell in love with your brother, but going back to skating, regardless of her fears, made a hell of a difference.”
Liam’s sister, my sister-in-law, was one of the bravest women I’d ever met. I’d never told him that. “She had balls.”
“So do you.” Liam stood and went to put his plate in the dishwasher. “You just haven’t found them yet. You can get through this, Xander. Maybe Samantha can be your muse.”
I laughed, a raw, grating noise that sounded harsh to my ears. “All I want from Samantha is her naked body underneath me.”
Liam turned around. “You sure about that?”
I swallowed hard. “Yeah. I’m sure.”
It was all I wanted, and all I’d ever have if she decided to let me fuck her. That terrifying sense of closeness and intimacy I’d experienced fleetingly with her this morning had all been in my head. I was convinced of it now that I was away from her.
“You aren’t even willing to try,” Liam said in an exasperated voice.
“You should talk,” I shot back at him. “At least I haven’t been carrying a torch for as long as you’ve been hot for your little waitress.”
He turned and leaned against the counter, shooting me a nasty look. “Her name is Brooke, and I don’t have the hots for her. Christ! She has to be at least ten years younger than I am, probably more. She’s sweet and innocent, and I’ve got a ton of mileage on me. I just . . . watch out for her.”
“Bullshit. You’re so damn possessive of her that if any guy so much as shoots a glance her way, you’re ready to fight him. Micah said you made a scene the other day when some dude was just being polite.”
Liam grimaced. “He was more than being polite. He was . . . touching her.”
I knew I’d struck a nerve. Liam’s body was tight, the muscle in his jaw twitching as he clenched his fists at his side. “Yeah. Okay. Keep telling yourself that. What are you going to do when she decides she wants to date someone?”
“Nothing. If he’s good enough for her.”
Who in the hell did he think he was kidding? No man would ever be good enough for the young female that Liam was lusting after. He’d kill somebody before he let them touch Brooke. “Nobody will ever be good enough for her,” I observed.
“Enough,” he said impatiently. “We were discussing Samantha.”
“Nothing to discuss,” I insisted. “I don’t want a relationship. I just want sex.”
“Sometimes you have no choice. Beatrice gave both of you an Apache tear.”
I shrugged. “So?”
“She has a pretty good record on the Sinclairs. She hasn’t missed yet.”
“Coincidence. I don’t believe in that crap,” I said defensively as I scooped up my keys, suddenly wondering if Samantha had left after I’d stormed out of the house.
Part of me hoped she was gone.
But the other part was scared as hell that she might have left.
“Xander,” Liam called out at my retreating figure.
I turned back near the door to see Liam coming out of the kitchen. “Yeah?”
“Don’t let your fear screw you out of something you deserve,” he cautioned.
I nodded slowly before I walked out the door. There was so much Liam didn’t understand because he didn’t know the whole truth. I’d talked to him about some things, but there were certain secrets that were better off staying buried.
Some things had died with my parents, and just like the mother and father I’d loved, they’d never see the light of day again.
CHAPTER 5
SAMANTHA
After I’d done more vacuuming and cleaned the bathrooms, I finally sat down in the family room with a diet soda, trying to collect my thoughts. The shattered pottery Xander had left had been swept up soon after he’d gone.
Maybe it was a good thing that he stormed off. Not for one second had I been afraid of his rage, because I knew that the person he was actually pissed off at was himself.
My encounter with Xander this morning had been disturbing. I hadn’t come here looking for any deep connect
ions. My purpose was to help him in any way I could, and he wasn’t ready for any kind of real relationship. I just wanted to be his friend and his confidante.
I’d ended up shaken by the emotions that had risen up inside me while he’d held me, so close, but yet so far away from the pain he’d carried for so long.
“I’m not sure how to get through to him,” I whispered to myself.
It wasn’t that I doubted my persuasive skills or my determination. Hell, I’d offered him my body to get him to let me stay. If that wasn’t desperate, I wasn’t sure what else would qualify.
I sighed and leaned back against the couch, wondering what approach I needed to take to try to get Xander to open up to me. Obviously, it wasn’t friendship. We’d gotten a taste of comfort and support this morning, and the first thing Xander had done was run away.
I understood why he’d gone. Honestly, our brief encounter had shaken me up a little, too. But Xander’s instinct was to push away anything that interfered with the wall of defenses he’d been building for the last four years.
I startled as I heard the front door slam, then looked up as Xander entered the room. He didn’t say anything. He just stood and looked at me with a hunger that shook me to my core. “What’s wrong?” I asked anxiously.
“I want to fuck you. You said you were willing. Does that offer still stand?”
His voice was rough and raw, and as I gaped at him standing at the entrance of the room, I nodded slowly.
I didn’t say things I didn’t mean. If screwing Xander was the only way we could communicate right now, then I wanted it. Maybe we couldn’t be friends, but maybe we could communicate as lovers.
“Strip,” he ordered, surprising the hell out of me with his demanding tone.
“Here?” I wasn’t exactly some kind of femme fatale. I’d had a few boyfriends in college, but my experience was limited. No matter how much I’d insisted that unemotional sex was fine with me, it really wasn’t. I’d never been nonchalant about being intimate with another person.