by Lily Zante
“Can we lie down?”
“Are you sure? Do you want to get changed or something?”
“Can you help me?” she asked, clinging tightly to him as he held her.
“Sure,” he replied. And helped her out of her skirt. He glanced at her, and she seemed a million miles away, probably in a lot of pain, and full of painkillers.
Slowly and gently he helped her into the bed, knowing that it would be pointless trying to get her out of her shirt, with the sling and all.
He propped her up with extra pillows, getting more from his room, so that she was slightly sitting up in bed. He figured it might be easier tonight with the gash still so raw.
“Do you need anything else,” he asked softly, seeing that her eyelids were slowly closing. She didn’t say a word and he made to leave her. “Shout out if you need me.”
“Stay,” she moaned, and he could see her struggling to open her eyes again. He’d stay here for a while until she fell asleep and then he would go—even though he could easily lie here all night. He walked over to her, and she watched him, suddenly a little more alert than before. She shuffled over to the other side of her bed, so that he wouldn’t be in danger of hurting her injured arm.
He slipped in between the covers, and stayed a respectful distance away even though he wanted to reach over and hold her and kiss the pain away.
Now they could finally get back to where they were before—if Zoe wanted to. He couldn’t really blame her if she didn’t. Now that Margaux was out of the picture, he wanted nothing more than to make this work. But all in due time. For now, he wanted only for her to fully recover.
“I thought we had a date, when I got your text,” she said in a hoarse whisper. He swallowed hard and tried to imagine what she might have thought. He’d seen the message for himself now that he had his cell back. “I’m sorry,” he said, knowing how the night had ended, in complete contrast to what she might have expected when she’d received that text.
She moved her hand over to his, and he grasped it tenderly, moving carefully closer to her so that she could rest her chin on his chest. Within minutes the sound of her heavy breathing made him look down. “Zoe?” When she didn’t reply, he closed his eyes and kissed the top of her hair. Her fingers gripped his arm. “Stay,” she whispered.
He had no intention of going anywhere else.
Chapter 48
“I didn’t know she was so damaged.” Bailey examined Zoe’s injury again as Zoe leaned back on her bed.
It was hard to think a day had passed. She’d slept most of the time. Hugh had come as soon as class had ended. Bailey had come too, once Tyler had called in explaining what had happened.
“I feel awful,” said Bailey.
“You shouldn’t blame yourself,” she told Bailey.
“You don’t know the half of it,” Bailey insisted.
Tyler cleared his throat and Zoe wasn’t sure if it was because he had a frog in his throat or because he wanted to remind them both that there were other people here.
Bailey ignored him anyway. She moved up closer to Zoe. “I’m sorry. None of this would have happened if it wasn’t for my big mouth.”
“You’re wrong,” insisted Zoe.
“About the big mouth? I don’t think so,” interjected Tyler, he looked anxious to stop the two from talking.
“I don’t understand—” Hugh looked confused.
Zoe tried to explain, passing on what little she’d known from the doctor who’d seen her. “She’s been ill—she’s been seeing a psychiatrist for years. She couldn’t handle feelings of rejection, especially from Tyler. He was the first person to show her committed feelings…or at least to make her feel as though they had something that lasted. So when Chrissie fired him, and Margaux was already clingy enough, the withdrawal feelings sent her further into despair.”
“Where did you work?” asked Hugh, determined to make sense of it all.
“I—uh,” Tyler couldn’t bring himself to admit to Hugh.
“It doesn’t matter.” Zoe came to his rescue. “But she’s going to get the treatment she needs. I don’t think she meant to harm me. I really don’t think she meant to go that far.”
“She said she couldn’t control it,” Tyler added.
“It’s good that your injuries weren’t any worse,” said Hugh, getting up. “I’ll let Chris know you’ll be delaying your start date. He wants you to recover properly before you start.”
“Start?” Zoe looked at him curiously. “Start what?”
“You got the job. He emailed you but—” Of course, she hadn’t checked her phone or her email.
Zoe broke out into a huge smile. For a second, she forgot the pain which still broke through despite the powerful pain killers. “He said he knew five minutes into the interview that he was going to take you on—I don’t think he’d want you to know that though.” Hugh added.
Zoe looked bemused. “He’s certainly an interesting character. I wonder what working for him will be like.”
“He makes all of his decisions very quickly. You’ll like it. But you need to get well first.”
“I think I’ll be fine in a few days.”
“I think she needs a week, at least,” said Tyler, getting up to see him to the door. Bailey got up too. “I suppose that means I won’t be seeing you for a week either?”
“Someone’s got to look after her.” Tyler glanced at Zoe.
“Thanks for coming to see me,” said Zoe as Bailey and Hugh kissed her before walking out of her bedroom. As Tyler saw them to the door, she thought she heard Bailey offer Hugh a lift.
“Did he accept?” she asked Tyler when he walked back in. But his cell went off just then and he jumped, and then look relieved. He looked at her and signaled with his hands for her to wait.
“Hey, Dad. Yeah, sorry I didn’t call. It’s been busy this end…I had an interview today for some magazine work. It’s postponed until tomorrow.” He winked at Zoe who gave him a surprised look in return. What interview? That reminded her that she had some news for him too.
He carried on, “Not yet, Dad. I’ve got other plans. I can’t commit to working for you now but who knows—later on.”
Zoe watched him as he walked around the room. Her pain was still sharp, and the painkillers dulled it but it was always there, the slow, throbbing ache that cut through her. The only way it helped was that the pain was too great for her to sit and think too much about Margaux threatening her with the knife. Each time her memory ventured that way, the pain took a hold, as if her mind was trying to steer her away from dwelling on the cause of her injury too much.
She would need physio for weeks after this, to make sure she could use her arm and hand properly once her arm had healed. It was just as well that she was left handed.
At least she’d be able to continue with her course.
“Sure, Dad. We’ll talk soon. Yeah. I will. I’ll try to come by at Easter.” He hung up, looking pleased with himself.
“You’re visiting your family at Easter?” she asked.
He nodded. “He even wished me good luck tomorrow.”
“What’s tomorrow?”
“One of the local magazines wants me to come by and discuss my work with a view to some long-term work.”
“And you postponed it for me?” She’d read between the lines and knew he had.
“Someone had to look after you,” he said, sitting down slowly beside her.
“Oh,” she sat up with a jerk, then made a face as the pain from her arm shot up through her shoulder sharply.
“Careful,” he said, giving her his hand, and letting her squeeze it tight to get through the pain. When it had subsided, she shrank back against the couch.
“What did you have to tell me?” he asked.
“You came runner up in the Olympus competition.”
His brow creased. “What Olympus competition?” He shook his head as if trying to remember something.
“The one I entered you for.” S
he winced, not from pain this time, but from what he might have to say, seeing that she’d gone behind his back.
“You entered me for a competition?” he raised his eyebrows in surprise. “Which picture?”
“The one of the Golden Gate Bridge.”
“What category?”
She scrunched her face, trying to remember. She’d entered him for a handful, and not really paid much attention to what she’d typed in. “People and places?” she guessed.
“People and places?”
“And you won two thousand dollars and a workshop for something or other.”
His face broke out into the biggest smile and he shook his head. “Are you kidding me?”
“It’s true—here,” she made to move as if she could easily get up and show him the email on her laptop.
“No, I believe you,” he tugged her good arm, and gently made her sit back. “You’re unbelievable—you did that behind my back, for me?” He gazed at her, giving her the same look he’d given her when he’d first set eyes on her at the speed-dating event.
“And you’re super talented,” she insisted. “You came runner up from thousands. Don’t you forget it.” She had no idea how many entries had been submitted but it seemed like a plausible figure, she assumed.
He sat shaking his head, as if he couldn’t quite believe what she’d done. “A workshop? That’s going to come in handy.”
“Don’t forget the two thousand dollars.”
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. You can see the email on my laptop if you want.”
“Later,” he said. “How bad is the pain now?” He held her arm gently and inspected the heavy bandage.
“It comes and goes,” she replied. But she was looking forward to being at home for a week. “You don’t have to take a week off work to look after me. I think I’ll be fine.”
“I need to change the locks,” he said suddenly.
“She’s gone, she won’t be back.”
“I want to feel one hundred percent safe. I want you to be safe.”
“I’ll be safe—with a hunk of a man like you looking after me.”
“I thought you said you didn’t need looking after?”
”Obviously I lied.”
“Obviously. But you know, as much as I enjoyed looking after you the last time when you came home feeling sick, I would never have wished this upon you, just to get that chance all over again.”
Zoe nodded. She’d never been more terrified in her life. And when Tyler later told her about the designer suit, the watch, and the photo, she’d shuddered at the idea that this woman had been in their apartment, and in her room, too. They had been completely oblivious to all of it. The idea of Margaux snooping around in their home sent shivers down her spine.
“You were right all along, to be as worried as you were,” said Zoe.
“It was just a feeling. I couldn’t prove anything. But she’ll never hurt you again. Ever.” He moved closer to her and drew soft strokes with his fingers up and down her uninjured arm. He shifted again, until he was no more than a hair’s breadth away from her face.
Her stomach tightened with delicious anticipation and she wet her lips.
“I won’t take advantage of you in this state,” he said in a serious tone, moving away.
Disappointed, she grabbed him by his T-shirt and pulled him back. “You can,” she said quickly.
This man had teased her long enough, and she had dreamed of his lips on hers, and that kiss for more nights than she cared to remember.
He responded by not waiting to be told again and sealed his lips to hers. When he kissed her, her insides ignited and she instinctively moved her arms around his neck.
She felt a sharp pain shoot up her shoulder, but Tyler’s deep kiss soon made her forget the pain.
“How about we watch a movie?” he suggested, when he finally pulled his lips away. But she was all caught up in fire and lust. “How about we do something else?”
“I can’t take advantage of you like this.” He seemed so determined to be chivalrous. What was it with this man all of a sudden—he’d found scruples?
“Oh yes, you damn well can,” she insisted, reeling him in towards her again.
*** The End ***
Reclaiming Love
(Tainted Love, Book 2)
Chapter 1
She didn’t understand why it excited him—taking cheap shots of her in her underwear—but it did. It made her feel grimy, as though she’d eaten in a cheap burger place where the meat was of questionable origin.
Melissa recoiled at the thought of it, remembering how humiliated and dirty she felt. It was the kind of dirty that brought a smile to his face. As it had last night when she’d had no intention of staying over.
“You look so hot,” he’d whispered hoarsely, before he slipped her bra strap off her shoulder. “You can do better than that,” he told her, when she wouldn’t kneel like he said. She’d winced, wondering how they’d gone from making out to this. It seemed to turn him on—the idea that he could make her do things she wasn’t comfortable with. Melissa blushed at the memory, the color heating her cheeks. She’d sat back down on the bed and buttoned up her shirt after the shame of it all. Like trapped gas, a feeling of discomfort lodged deep in her stomach and made her uneasy.
And yet at other times when he was good, he was the best. Her friends at work thought he was hot. Not just cute-hot, but hot-hot. And he was. No arguing with that. She’d seen the way girls swept their gaze his way even when she was out with him: buying tickets at the cinema or ordering at a restaurant. They didn’t try to hide their lust.
It always made her feel invisible. The way she often felt when she went out with her friend Heather—her outwardly ditzy persona adding to her beach blonde look, complete with smile and curves. She got noticed. Melissa did not.
“Skinny latte to go,” a barista on autopilot announced into the air.
“Skinny latte to go for—Melissa.” Another announcement, spoken in a world-weary voice.
“I think that’s yours.” A gentle touch of a hand on her arm and a soft voice close to her drew her back into the bustling buzz of the early morning coffee shop, just across the road from work and a few minutes walk from the gym.
The gym where she’d spend a couple mornings a week before work. She glanced at the person who’d spoken to her. He pointed to her cup. “You’re Melissa, aren’t you?”
Her attention had been snatched back and she acknowledged him with a nod, this stranger with the soft eyes. “Huh? Yes.” She stared vacantly at the tall coffee cup, then glanced at him again, his face registering familiarity. She’d seen him here before. His hair was the color of dark chocolate, longish and swept back at the sides.
With an effort she grabbed her coffee, voiced a quiet “thanks” to him and turned to head out the door.
But collided head-on with a motorcycle courier who was removing his helmet. His oversized frame knocked right into her and the sharp bite of instant heat singed her chest.
She yelped in agony as the sensation, like hot prickly barbed wire, stung her skin. The motorcyclist turned, saw what he’d done and rushed to her side as she pulled her sticky, coffee-stained shirt away from her scorched skin.
“Oh, damn,” she groaned.
“I’m so sorry.” The courier turned crimson when he saw her drink had spilled all over her. Luckily her coat and scarf had absorbed most of it.
“Here.” The familiar guy with the soft eyes handed her some tissues, which she gratefully accepted.
“Does it hurt? Do you want to sit down?” The motorcyclist asked, fussing over her. She shook her head, truly embarrassed at what had happened even though it hadn’t been her fault.
“Can I at least get you another drink?”
“No, no, I’m fine.” Melissa wiped the stubborn stain and kept her shirt away from her body. It had cooled fast, but she still felt a slight pinch of soreness underneath.
“I’m
sorry,” the motorcyclist repeated, as if the mantra would fix the situation.
“It’s okay. I’ll be fine,” Melissa said, with a finality she hoped would get through to him. He shrugged and left, heading towards the washroom.
An assistant came over to ask her if she was all right and whether she’d like another drink. “No, thank you.” She was eager to get out, to not draw even more attention to herself.
“You shouldn’t be embarrassed. It wasn’t your fault.” The guy with the soft eyes told her. She looked at him, her face flushed from attracting too much unnecessary attention.
“Maybe getting a drink might help. A small comfort for the pain?” She was too dazed to reply. Instead, she watched as he turned to the assistant who still hovered around. “She’d like a skinny latte and a blueberry muffin, please.”
“I didn’t get a blueberry muffin today.”
“No, but you sometimes do.”
Startled, she patted the stain and stared back at him. Long eyelashes, she concluded.
“They’re probably hoping you don’t sue,” he said quietly as he waited by her side. “Does it hurt?”
She shook her head, even though it stung a little. “My scarf got most of it.” She unwound it from her neck and scrunched up her nose as she inhaled the smell of stale, cold coffee. Wonderful. Now not only was she wearing yesterday’s clothes, but she smelled of old coffee too. “Thanks for the tissues.”
“No problem.” The corners of his mouth moved up a little and an unsure smile tried to break loose. He looked away but continued to wait by her side with his hands in his pockets and a backpack on his back.
“I’ve seen you here before,” she commented.
“I’ve seen you.” The corners of his mouth moved up a little more until he actually gave her a smile. She responded, and at the same time wondered why he wasn’t joining the line to place his order, why he was so intent on waiting with her. “I’ll be fine, thanks.” She didn’t want to tell him to go, but she also didn’t want him to think he had to stick around. She wasn’t incapacitated.