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by Lea Griffith

  She raised her head, her ivory cheeks now flushed with passion, her eyes bright with it, and she said the three words guaranteed to break him completely.

  “Please fuck me.”

  Chapter 4

  Tobias’s hands clenched into her flesh, and Ruthie hissed. If intent could be measured by grip, he was more than willing to accede to her demand.

  “No,” he said with finality.

  It sounded to Ruthie like a last-ditch effort, a desperate vow that he wouldn’t do what his body was demanding he do.

  He raised his hands, and she stumbled a bit before she stood up tall.

  “You will,” she proclaimed, and her words were an avowal as well.

  Inside she was high-fiving herself. He’d shuddered against her before he pushed her away. Ruthie scared him.

  “Go back to Vegas.” It was an order.

  She laughed. The whisper of his leather pants rubbing together told Ruthie he’d taken another step back. She wanted to fist-bump herself.

  Ruthie licked her lips. “I remembered your taste, Tobias, but I have to say, the real thing is so much better. There’s a spice to your flavor that never fails to take my breath. I wonder if it’s the need for me running through your veins that makes it so addictive.”

  “Stop, Ruthie. Go back to Vegas. I don’t need this.”

  “Oh, I think you definitely need this. In fact, I think the reason you came up here is because you can’t find what you need with anyone else except me. Big Dom panties, please, Tobias. Wear them next time you come see me, yeah?”

  Ruthie turned away then, and heard his breath draw in harshly. Good! Let him see what he was missing. She reached behind her and pulled at the zipper, making sure it lowered to well below her bottom before she made her way to her bedroom. The cold air of her apartment did nothing to cool her flesh.

  He didn’t follow her, and she wondered if the first sortie was over. She changed into pajama pants and a tank before washing her face and brushing her teeth and hair. She was tired—bone-deep weary and trying to decide what the hell her next move with him would be.

  Her stomach growled and she patted it, making her way back through her apartment to the kitchen. Tobias was still there. She felt his gaze stroking over her exposed skin.

  She decided another round of taunting was in order. “You staying the night, Toby?”

  She called him Toby when she was teasing. He allowed only her and Daly to call him Toby. Ever.

  He remained silent. Another silent pat on her back. Good job, Ruthie.

  She knew her apartment like the back of her hand. She knew how many steps from the elevators to the couch, from the couch to her bedroom, and from the bedroom to her kitchen. Her furnishings were minimal. She didn’t care for broken toes and bruised shins.

  Over the years she’d had her fair share of bumps and bruises—it all came with being blind. She used a walking stick rarely and only when she didn’t know the lay of the land, so to speak. In her house, she refused to use it. It was a crutch that reminded her of her blindness.

  As if the very fact that she couldn’t see her hand in front of her face weren’t enough of a reminder!

  She opened her refrigerator and located her stash of Cherry Coke, pulling one out and grabbing a Hershey bar from the fruit and veggie drawer before she closed it, and sat both on the smooth granite countertop.

  Ruthie opened the chocolate bar carefully, avoiding ripping the wrapper into more than two separate sections. Then she began breaking the bar into individual pieces along the scored lines before lining them up in two rows of six. It was meticulous the way she ate her chocolate. She had to savor it because there had been times in her life when she hadn’t eaten chocolate—she’d been lucky to have ketchup sandwiches and water.

  She opened her Cherry Coke, took a deep swig, and sighed before popping a square of chocolate from the right row into her mouth.

  It melted, and she moaned, letting the rich confection coat her tongue before she swallowed and took another swig of Coke. Chocolate reminded her of sex with Tobias.

  “How can anybody make eating a Hershey bar and drinking a Cherry Coke erotic?”

  She giggled and wondered how the hell she could in the middle of intense arousal. The chocolate was so damn good, but Tobias Edwards was so much better. “It’s a gift,” she responded with another small laugh.

  The scrape of a bar stool over the wood of the floor told her he was now seated across from her. He was sitting down—that was a good sign, right? Maybe instead of protesting and bitching about how she was coming after him, he would give in to the inevitable.

  It amazed Ruthie how much she’d changed in the past three years. Yes, she’d made the attempt to win all the parts of her man’s heart before he’d pushed her away. Yes, she’d bought a house in Vegas so she could escape and lick her wounds in peace.

  But she’d grown, morphing into a woman who had more than a little bit of courage and was willing to do whatever was necessary to make Tobias see they belonged in each other’s arms. He was a stubborn man. It ran in his family. Daly was the same way.

  The core of who they were had been molded in a particularly virulent hell. But Ruthie and her brothers’ hell had been just as hot, and they weren’t running away and giving up.

  While she didn’t understand it, she refused to be cowed by his resistance to a relationship with her. It wasn’t about her blindness. It had nothing to do with anything except Tobias. So while she was assured of her feelings and that she would walk through both of their hells, she could only hope he would do the same. It would be the biggest fight she’d ever undertaken.

  Ruthie hadn’t been lying. She did remember his taste. But she also remembered his breath breaking as the tails of his flogger broke over her back. She remembered his groans as he pushed into her body. Her skin tingled in remembrance of his fingers digging into her hips to hold her in place.

  And she remembered how he’d run from the intensity of what they’d shared.

  His touch, a slow caress of his knuckles over her cheek, startled her. “What are you thinking about?” he asked in an even tone.

  There was nothing to be gained from the tone of his voice. He was a sneaky player in this game of hearts.

  “You,” she answered.

  “I won’t do this.”

  She sighed and popped another piece of chocolate in her mouth, savoring it before she swallowed and took another drink. “I think you will or it will haunt you.”

  “You hope to challenge me, but Ruthie, you have no idea what you’re doing to me.”

  His voice was tortured, the deepness of it lending testimony to a struggle she didn’t quite understand but was anxious to discover. She wanted to help him slay his dragons, not become another one. Ruthie set her drink down on the counter and walked around to stand before him. She felt him turn, and she walked between his legs.

  Ruthie raised her hands, cupping his face, reacquainting herself with the strong jaw, broad forehead, straight nose, and full lips. The roughness of his five o’clock shadow had her biting her lip. The feel of his chin along her shoulder was a tactile memory.

  She rubbed her thumb over his lips, along his cheeks, and encountered—

  A very long, diagonal scar that ran from his hairline, down his left cheek, to the corner of his mouth. It was deep and had been there for some time. The scar was on his face, but it was her soul that was sliced in two at that second.

  “Who cut you, Tobias?”

  He smiled, and it hurt Ruthie to feel it. But he didn’t answer. That bothered her way more than the scar. Secrets—always it was the secrets.

  He had worked with Jeremiah for years, and while to the casual observer it seemed Tobias worked for her brother, they were actually partners in a very lucrative shipping business. Tobias was a silent partner, but he owned 50 percent of the shares of Copeland Shipping. Because his name wasn’t included in the business name, many people assumed, erroneously, that Tobias was Jeremiah’s und
erling.

  Tobias had graduated from Georgia State University with a degree in International Business. He had taken Jeremiah’s initial investment, matched it, and helped the business grow into the success it was today.

  He was a businessman, but he also worked the shadier deals for Jeremiah. Apparently, he had a way with the more difficult business transactions. Neither man had ever gone into detail with her, refusing to give her anything more than that sometimes the business world could be a dangerous place.

  Not exactly a way to ease her mind. Since they’d both come from working deep in the Dixie Mafia, Ruthie had always worried those roots would never let them go. To know her man had been hurt at some point in the last three years and no one had told her had anger sifting through her on a stinging wind.

  “Answer me, Tobias. Who cut you?”

  He grabbed her hand, then and pulled it from his face, but not before she felt his tongue on her palm. “Occupational hazard, Ruthie.”

  Her anger turned quickly into fury, and she backed up and crossed her arms over her chest. “Don’t give me that bullshit. Somebody hurt you and I want their fucking name.”

  “No.”

  A simple denial—one word that encapsulated everything about their relationship. With Tobias it had always been no.

  “Leave,” she demanded. She couldn’t do this with him right now. It might break her resolve.

  Her man had been hurt and nobody had told her. It was a repeating refrain in her mind, bitter and eroding her intentions to take this slow. She didn’t want to force him, and she was afraid that right now her anger wouldn’t do either of them any good.

  “What’s the matter, Ruthie? The scar a turnoff?”

  There was a smirk in his voice. Ruthie took a single deep breath, reaching for her control before it scattered in the storm of her rage. That he would think she was so shallow was a mark against him, but with so many piling up she should really stop counting. Otherwise, she’d start to wonder about her own sanity in pursuing such a hardheaded man.

  “You’re a dick, Tobias. I had forgotten just how much of a dick you can be. Go ahead now, run along. I know it’s what you’ve wanted to do since you saw me in the club. I’m giving you permission now—taking the reins since you refuse to. Tell me, does that make me the Dominant in this relationship?”

  Direct hit. She could tell by his harshly drawn breath. Oh, victory, where is thy thrill?

  He was in her face then, his scent wrapping around her, sinking into her skin and nose, becoming a flavor on her tongue. “We would have to have a relationship for that to happen, Ruthie, and believe me, little girl, you would never be the Dominant.”

  Her lips twisted and she tossed her hair over her shoulder as she pushed at his shoulders. She needed space. This wasn’t how this was supposed to go. “Somebody’s got to do the work, right, Tobias? I figured since you puss out every chance you get, I’d take over and show you how it’s done.”

  He grabbed her shoulders, his hold gentle but restrictive. He wanted to shake her; she recognized his restraint. At the moment she couldn’t fully appreciate it, but she noticed.

  He growled. “Stop pushing me, Ruthie.”

  She leaned closer to him then. If he’d exhibited restraint, well, Ruthie was all determination in that moment. “Who cut your face, Tobias?”

  “Why does it fucking matter, woman? You can’t see it anyway!”

  She stilled. The pain was a tidal wave pulling her under, drowning her. He’d never used her blindness against her. Ever. “First time for everything,” she whispered.

  “What?” he demanded.

  “Let me go, Tobias.”

  He released her and his confusion weighed on her. “I’m sorry. That was uncalled for,” he said softly.

  “Not good enough. The rules are being set as we go, Tobias. This is an ever-evolving game we’re playing now. You took the gloves off, so I think it’s only fair to warn you mine are coming off as well.”

  She tried to find her equilibrium. He was a desperate man utilizing desperate measures. He hadn’t meant what he’d said; she knew that. But it wasn’t enough.

  Ruthie wanted more. She still wanted it all.

  “Leave. Right now, just get the hell out of my space.”

  “I told you I didn’t want you to do this.”

  She wanted to slap some sense into him. Ruthie wasn’t prone to fits of violence, but he was seriously pushing her buttons. Maybe it was her investment in this thing between them. Maybe it was simple fear of losing the one man she knew completed her.

  “You’re running scared, Tobias. I get it. But the low blows need to stop. You want to know why I’m here?” She threw her hands wide. “I thought I made it clear in the club—I came back here to claim you. But I’m beginning to understand the pieces of you that you’ve held back from me, Tobias. That, my man, should scare the ever-living shit out of you.”

  “I don’t want to break you.”

  “Got news for you, Tobias: you’ve already done that. It’s time for you to put me back together now. Man up,” she snapped, then turned her back on him.

  “Goddamn, you’re as stubborn as Daly!”

  “I find it humorous in the extreme that you’re just now realizing this,” she murmured before she moved back to her chocolate.

  He didn’t respond, and Ruthie realized he would leave. Uncertainty weighed heavily in the air between them. She was sensitive to most people’s moods, her blindness giving her the eerie ability to discern emotions without a word being spoken. Some might call it a gift. Ruthie called it survival.

  “Go home and sulk. Devise a million and one ways to get me to fly back to Vegas and then come back tomorrow and do your level best to see it happen. I look forward to your best efforts.” Another block of chocolate, another swig of sweet Cherry Coke that burned a path straight to her stomach, and she smiled.

  “Yeah? Why’s that?” he asked hesitantly.

  Her smile widened. “I’d hate to have anything less than your best, Toby. I like winning, but I’m going to enjoy rubbing your defeat in your face. So run along—I’ve got chocolate to finish.”

  He didn’t say a word—just was there one minute, his presence an energy that danced along her skin, and then gone the next, leaving the space desolate. The elevator opened and closed, dinging its departure.

  “In for a penny,” she muttered, and sighed.

  Eight more squares of chocolate and a half bottle of Cherry Coke later, Ruthie rubbed her neck and yawned. She made her way to her bedroom, brushed her teeth again, and taking off everything, she crawled under her comforter.

  She was chalking today in the win column. Every action, sound, and conversation from the day ran rampant, but everything circled back to the feel of Tobias against her. She was going to lose some battles; of that there was no doubt. The same characteristics that she loved about him would be the ones that caused her to lose a few skirmishes.

  But she’d damn well win the war.

  The thought followed her into sleep.

  Chapter 5

  The sun filtered through the large bank of windows in Ruthie’s bedroom, settling its rays on her skin and heating her from the outside in. She’d fallen asleep quickly last night, waking up periodically to the silence and emptiness of her room. Sometimes the endless night brought a quiet she almost couldn’t bear.

  Yet she’d lain in her big, cool bed, wrapped in her cool, silk sheets, and she’d done nothing but remember until the fatigue weighed her back down and she finally gave in. It was an endless cycle, her insomnia, and stress always made it even more unpredictable. This morning brought the warmth she craved after the bitter cold of a night spent alone. It woke her peacefully, so she allowed the sun’s dance along her skin, sighing as the chill was chased away.

  Mornings were the worst. If she managed to sleep, that headlong rush into wakefulness was a bitter sprint because it always ended her dreams and forced her back to reality. In her dreams she could see everything.
In her dreams she knew what love both looked and felt like—it was her man’s smile against her lips, it was supple skin over firm muscle. It was cedar and musk floating from his body into her nostrils, and it was the taste of Tobias Edwards sliding down her throat. It was a vision of every color she could no longer see but remembered with startling clarity.

  When her eyes opened, there was nothing but hazy darkness filled with shadows. This morning was no different from the previous one and all the ones before that.

  Her mind whirled as she fought the unending battle to just let him go. But each time she fought to scrape him from every crevice of her soul, her body refused to forget. The stroke of his callused fingertips along her spine, the whisper of his lips against her hip, the sigh of his big, hard body sinking against hers—they were tactile recollections she reveled in because she had nothing else but her memories.

  So while her mind whirled with a loop-the-loop of let-him-go-get-him-back, she reminded herself that she’d returned here for the sole purpose of never giving him up.

  “Ma’am?” her housekeeper called softly.

  “Mimi, the sun is shining today,” Ruthie said, and even she heard the sorrow in her voice.

  “It isn’t as bright as your smile, Miss Ruthie,” Mimi murmured.

  Ruthie made a sound of agreement. She hadn’t been expecting Mimi until tomorrow but was glad the woman had come early. “How was Carlos’s graduation, Mimi?”

  “Joyous. He wants me to kiss you on both cheeks and squeeze you tight for the gift you gave him.”

  There was the rustle of clothing being hung up and things being arranged. Ruthie had had a lot of her things shipped in preparation of her return. She was hoping this wasn’t a short trip. “I’m glad he liked it.”

  “It was too much, hija preciosa,” Mimi said, a smile in her voice.

  “Nothing is too much for Carlos, Mimi. He’s a good boy and deserves an opportunity to go to school and not be burdened by student loans,” Ruthie said.

  She’d paid his entire first year of tuition with the caveat that if he made A’s and B’s, she would continue to pay for each successive year of schooling—even if he decided on graduate school. He was going to Georgia Tech to become an aeronautical engineer. The kid was a genius. Mimi and her sons had been abandoned in the hot Arizona desert sixteen years ago, her husband leaving them to fend for themselves. Mimi had done it with three children, of whom Carlos was the youngest. She’d made her way to Atlanta and somehow, some way, crossed paths with Jeremiah.