I pulled my knees into my chest, trying to listen for him over the thundering of my heart. The door creaked again, as if something pushed against it. The wooden floor creaked beneath his bare feet.
And then I heard the muffled thud of his fist striking the punching bag.
I lay back in bed, listening to him hit it again and again, the sound reviving the hurt in my own knuckles.
He didn’t stop for a long time, and even when he finally did, he didn’t come back to my bed.
* * *
After a fitful night of sleep, I woke to a silent apartment. Wrapping a blanket around my shoulders, I wandered out to the main room to find Alec standing outside the sliding glass door on the balcony. In just his jeans, he was leaning over the railing, staring out into the water. The curve of his naked back rose with slow breaths, and my gaze paused on the scar on the bottom of his ribs, a light pink line against his tan skin. My heart gave a little lurch. He’d gotten that in prison—the attack that would lead him to spend his remaining months in solitary.
My eyes lowered to the band of his jeans, and his perfect ass. Down his long legs to the frayed hems that met his bare heels. He could have been a model in some travel ad. Or a movie star, shooting the satisfied, peaceful scene just after an incredible night of passion with his lover.
But the reality was he was probably thinking about what a huge mistake he’d made, and how he was going to break the news to me.
I wrapped the blanket tighter around my shoulders, my grip reminding me of my now bruised knuckles. After he’d left me, I’d been embarrassed. I’d exposed too much—not just my body, but my soul. Gradually, my shame had warped into irritation, and by the time I’d crawled out of bed, I was pissed. He’d been flirting with me, I hadn’t made that up. And he wasn’t doing me any favors by reeling things in every time someone turned up the heat.
I’d considered that he was trying to be a gentleman. But every time I asked myself why I came back to the same point. He thought I was damaged, and either he was afraid of breaking me more, or it had changed his ability to see me as the sexy woman he’d once loved.
And that really pissed me off.
As if he’d heard my thoughts, he turned and met my eyes across the room. There was longing in them, unmistakable desire, and I turned away before he could pull me under his spell.
I went to the kitchen to make some coffee. He’d stocked up on that, at least.
A few moments later he approached behind me.
“Anna, listen . . .”
I gave him the cold shoulder. “Coffee?”
“No.” He hesitated. “Thanks.”
Awkwardness prickled between us.
He leaned back against the counter. I could see him in the corner of my eye, his strong chest tipping forward. His perfect abs rippling like a flipping Bowflex commercial.
“If I hadn’t left then, I wouldn’t have stopped.”
Even if I had had my reservations about going further, I hadn’t voiced them. The fact that sex with me was something he wanted to avoid for any reason felt like a kick to the gut.
“Well, it’s a good thing you did then,” I said.
The coffeemaker hissed, then started to bubble.
“I slipped up last night,” he said. “I’m trying . . . I need to go slow.”
“For me or for you?” I asked quietly.
His jaw flexed. His thumb began tapping on his thigh. There were things he wanted to say, that much was obvious, but nothing came out.
“I need that, too,” I said, feeling exposed again, just like last night. A long moment passed.
“I’ve arranged for someone to come by later. I have to meet Janelle today. I won’t be back for a while.” He cleared his throat. “Not until tomorrow actually.”
That same anger that had been just under the surface since I’d woken in Orlando punched through again, and I laughed coldly. “Slumber party. Sounds fun.”
He grabbed my arm, forcing me to look up at him. “It’s not real. You know that.”
I shook free, the blanket falling off my shoulders and pooling around my feet. The thin red tank top and striped pink panties were all I had on, but I didn’t care, even when his gaze lowered and his eyes narrowed.
“It wouldn’t matter if it was,” I said, pushing him back. “I’ve got no claim on you. You’re not mine. Anyway, as we both saw last night, I can take care of myself.”
His eyes flashed, lighting on the open sea. I hated that I was raging at him, but I was just so sick of being mad and needed a place to put it all. I spun away, searching for a mug to busy my hands with. I opened the cabinet above the coffeemaker, but they were on the top shelf. Another interior-decorations-by-man move.
I stretched up to my tiptoes and reached, but fell just short of grabbing the nearest ceramic handle. He drew closer, my pulse beating faster with every step. Soon he was behind me, his hard body pressing against mine. His hand rose up my side, bringing a hitch to my breath as he skimmed the side of my breast. Immediately my nipples hardened, just the slightest tease pulling everything within me taut. I jerked into the counter, feeling the ledge against my stomach, just as his hard body pressed against me from behind.
“You don’t need me,” he said.
I shook my head.
His other hand started on my bare hip and rose. His thumb slid under the side of my panties and twisted the fabric around his finger, pulling it tight against my center. Another twist, and the discomfort bordered on pain, but still made me squirm for more.
“You don’t need anyone,” he said.
He dipped lower, and his hips rocked against my ass. The pressure of his hard cock had me leaning forward, which gave him the opportunity to do it again. I bit my lip when a hoarse moan snuck out, and grabbed the counter, because my legs had gone weak.
“You can take care of yourself,” he murmured.
I barely nodded, too focused on the shock of his knee parting my thighs.
“Well that’s a goddamn shame for me,” he said.
I blinked, trying to clear my head. He was turning the tables on me again. It was like a game to him. I was always right where he wanted.
“You’re right,” I said, and slipped to the side. The blanket was still on the kitchen floor, and I bent to pick it up, giving him a full view of my pink-pantied ass. If he thought he was the only one with the power, he had another thing coming.
I rose slowly, feeling his scalding gaze on my back, then turned to meet his gaze.
“I’m stronger than you give me credit for,” I told him.
He looked at me for one long beat, watching as I hid my body beneath the blanket.
“No,” he said. “You’re stronger than you give yourself credit for. I’ve never doubted you.”
He walked to the living room and grabbed a shirt off the arm of the couch. He shrugged into it, a scowl on his face, and then stalked back toward me, growing bigger somehow, as if his energy had broken free from his body and was filling the room. I held my ground, even as his fingers trailed down my arms to my wrists, and then pulled my hands to his chest. His skin was hot, smooth, like satin over iron.
He lifted one of my hands to his mouth and kissed my bruised knuckles, never taking his eyes off mine. His tongue raked slowly across the ridges, and then he blew lightly on the swollen skin. I gasped. It was then that I saw the matching bruises on his hands. Small scabs had already risen there. He’d hurt himself when he’d attacked the bag last night.
“Tell yourself whatever you need to,” he said. “That you don’t need me. That I’m not yours. But I told you that you’d be safe here, and I meant it. I’m not going to hurt you again.”
With that, he left, leaving me leaning against the refrigerator with my heart thudding in my chest.
Eighteen
Just after noon there was a knock at the doo
r. I’d forgotten Alec had said someone would be coming by. I figured it was Matt, bringing by lunch again, but when I opened the door I was surprised to find he wasn’t alone.
“Special delivery,” he said, stepping aside to reveal a platinum blond pixie in suspenders and black skinny jeans.
“Amy!” I didn’t even have time to step out before Amy collided into me, arms so tight around my ribs I actually coughed.
“Alec put her on your approved visitors list,” Matt said. “Sorry I didn’t check with you earlier.”
“No, it’s fine,” I wheezed, finally dislodging Amy, who went back outside to grab her rolling suitcase. She jerked it over the doorframe and into the apartment.
“Thanks,” I told Matt as he descended down the stairs. I locked the door behind him, and beamed at my best friend. “How did you . . .”
“Alec,” she answered. “He called a couple days ago and said you needed a pick-me-up.”
“He did?” I chewed on my thumbnail. She looked me over, head to toe, touching my arms, patting my hair, as if to make sure I wasn’t about to fall apart. When she’d finished her inspection she hugged me again.
“I would have come earlier, but I had to get a background check,” she said. “The FBI fingerprinted me and everything. And then Alec made me leave my car at the port authority when he picked me up.”
“Alec met you this morning?” I asked, as she pulled away. I checked the clock. He’d left over two hours ago.
“He brought me here,” she said. “After a scenic detour to make sure we weren’t followed. I’d call him paranoid, but I think that only applies if someone hasn’t already tried to kill you.”
“You and Alec were alone in a car.” They’d been together at the hospital, but those circumstances had been different. I couldn’t imagine them being friendly after everything that had gone down three months ago on the bridge.
“He said you needed me.” It was that black-and-white for her, and I loved her for it.
She lifted her bag with her deceivingly slim arms and dropped it on the couch. “He said he had to run, otherwise he would have come in and said hi.”
I felt my lips purse. He did have to run. He and Janelle had a supposedly fake sleepover.
“Which,” she added, “makes me think you guys are fighting. Which makes me think that’s the reason why he called in the reinforcements.”
One brow was quirked up beneath her bangs when she looked over.
“We’re not exactly fighting,” I mumbled. Was that why Alec had called her? To pawn me off on someone else?
I motioned to her bag. “Are you spending the night?”
“Sadly, no.” she said with a pout. “That’s just my day bag. Paisley’s at Hot Mike’s with Chloe and Iris, and I said I’d be back before bedtime.”
I’d forgotten that Amy and Paisley had been staying with Mike and his mom since my disappearance.
“Ah,” I said. “How’s that going?”
She flopped onto the couch beside her bag. “If you mean, have we had hot sweaty sex yet, the answer is no.”
“How about a hot sweaty kiss?”
She bit her thumbnail. “He may or may not have kissed me.”
I squealed, and a moment later she squealed, and then melted onto the wooden floor dramatically. I bent over her, fists on my hips while she stared wistfully at the ceiling.
“Spill it,” I said. “Now. Details. All of them.”
She sat up. “Okay, but after you have to fill me in on everything—why all the secrecy, and why you’re staying here, and why Mike said you showed up at Alec’s wearing your pj’s and then got mobbed by reporters. I’m sure that’s all super important and everything, but honestly, it’s probably not as mind-blowing as the fact that Mike grabbed my boob.”
“What?” I sat on the floor beside her as she wriggled even more. Her joy made me feel light. I hadn’t seen her this giddy in years.
“He played it off like it was an accident, but you know he was trying to cop a feel.”
“Amy!” I covered my eyes. “Start from the beginning.”
She sat up, sitting cross-legged just like me. “So we were doing dishes after the girls went to sleep, and I was drying a bowl and he reached for the soap and was like, ‘Oops.’ Totally elbowed me in the boob.”
“That doesn’t count.”
“It absolutely counts,” she argued. “I’m not Triple D Anna Rossi. I’ve barely got mosquito bites. You have to go out of your way to get to them.” She stuck out her chest to make a point.
“Mine are Cs, thank you very much,” I said. “And a boob grab only qualifies as a boob grab if he doesn’t say ‘oops’ afterward.”
She scrunched her lips to one side. “Point taken. But he did kiss me.”
“When?”
“After we left the hospital. That night. We’d put the girls down and he was showing me my room, which was actually his room because Iris is sleeping in the guest room in his cute little house. Anyway, I was arguing with him that it was fine that I sleep on the sofa and he was arguing that it wasn’t going to happen, and then I said something about not wanting to impose and he called me stubborn and then bam. Kissed me.”
She’d been motioning with her hands, but when she stopped, they fell on her stomach, and she got that faraway look again.
“Was it good?” I asked.
“Anna.” She put her hand on my arm. “I would give up ice cream if it meant he would do it again.”
“Wow,” I said. “What happened after that?”
She winced. “After that I told him I thought I heard the girls in the hallway and sort of made a mad dash into the closet. I thought it was the bedroom door. I was a little disoriented.”
I clapped a hand over my mouth. “Oh. That’s not good.”
“I’m well aware,” she said, with a frown. “He hasn’t tried anything since.”
I put my hand on hers. “I’m sure he’s still interested.”
She shrugged. “It’s all right if he isn’t. That kiss was worth it. I wouldn’t know what to do next anyway.”
God, she made me so sad sometimes. She honestly believed she wouldn’t get a happily ever after.
“Based on the fact that you have a child, I’m pretty sure you have some idea of what comes next.”
She kicked out her legs. “It’s been a while since I’ve gone there. Like, an embarrassing amount of time.”
“How long is embarrassing?”
“A few months,” she said with a cough. “Or a year. Or two.”
My eyes widened. “Not since Danny?”
She crossed herself, as she always did when her ex’s name was mentioned.
“It’s not like I haven’t been busy,” she said defensively. “I’ve got a kid.”
She was still lying on her back, and I lay down beside her, staring at the exposed beams in the ceiling. Doing the math wasn’t hard. Her divorce had gone through around the time I’d moved to Tampa, less than a year ago. Which meant that she and Danny had still been married awhile without any intimacy. I wondered just how long things had been bad between them, or if they’d ever actually been good.
“Maybe Mike’s trying to go slow.”
Alec’s voice filled my mind. We need to take this slow.
If that was what Mike was doing, I hoped Amy’s experience was half as frustrating as mine.
Amy laughed dryly. “Did you know before he left, my ex told me part of the reason he didn’t love me anymore was because I wasn’t as attractive as I used to be. What a dick, right?”
I hated that guy.
“Total dick,” I agreed.
“Right.” She hesitated. “So is it true?”
I sat back up. “Are you kidding?”
“Scratch that.” She kicked off her silver ballet slippers. “I came here to take
care of you and instead I’m turning it into the Amy Show. Sorry.”
“It’s most definitely not true,” I said. “It’s nowhere near true. I’ve known you since we were thirteen, and you’ve never been hotter.”
“Honestly?”
“I swear.”
She frowned. “Then why hasn’t he carried me off to bed, caveman style, and fucked my brains out? Is it the mom thing? Do you think he’s freaked out by stretch marks? Because mine are almost all faded. Well, except this one on my—”
“No,” I said. “No. You don’t see the way he looks at you. He’s probably waiting for you to make the next move.”
She considered this.
“So what am I supposed to do?”
I felt my shoulders hunch.
“I’m probably the wrong person to ask right now.”
She sat up and scooted back against the couch.
“Is it hard being here with him?” she asked, her voice softer now. “On the way over he was pretty tight-lipped about it. Where was he going anyway?”
I focused my gaze on my feet.
“Overnight with Janelle.”
“God,” she sputtered. “He’s got the nerve to shove that in your face? I thought my ex was bad.”
Amy still thought Janelle and he were dating. Mike did, too, according to Alec. I looked at my friend, seeing the rage flash up in her green eyes, and wanted to tell her everything. About Janelle, and the pictures, and how it was breaking my heart that Alec didn’t need my touch as much as I needed his.
But I couldn’t tell her everything yet. The more she knew, the more potential danger we were all in. I couldn’t risk her life again. It was bad enough that she was here with me at all.
“It’s complicated,” I said. “But he’s not a bad guy.”
She sighed. “Yeah. I know he’s not.” She squeezed my hand. “If it’s any consolation, he’s still in love with you.”
The butterflies in my stomach woke up in a hurry to flutter their wings.
“What makes you say that?”
“Well, for starters how nice he’s been to us. The security system at the apartment, offering to pay for therapy. And then, okay, this may be totally unrelated . . .” She leaned forward. “I got a check in the mail while you were . . . missing. From my ex. For child support.”
The Confession Page 15