Atonement: The Lonely Ridge Collection

by Lyz Kelley

  He lived simply.

  He stuck to a palette of only a few colors, with one bold, accenting color to highlight something within each space, like the red door.

  He tossed his keys on the counter and moved their suitcases around the corner to remove the tripping hazard. Next, he opened the sliding door to a deck overlooking the city lights below to let in the fresh breeze.

  “I’m in the mood for chardonnay. Would you like a glass?”

  She nodded and walked toward the deck, rubbing her arms to ward off an anxious chill. She felt trapped. Jacob might not have meant to, but he’d put her in another cage. The claustrophobia pressed in, and she became preoccupied with what came next.

  What would he expect? Sex? Friendship? People always had a way of making demands on others, whether intended or not.

  “I love seeing the city lights from here.” He handed her a glass of white wine. “I realized just now, I should have asked whether you want to stay here. I was too wrapped up in the presentation to plan anything beyond the meeting.”

  She looked through the glass at the floor-to-ceiling grey rock fireplace, the large screen television with a game console underneath, and a cozy living room area. She couldn’t see his bedroom, but assumed it was upstairs. Out of sight, out of mind…for now. The sizeable cream-colored couch could be an option.

  “It’s uncomfortable. You’ll get a crick in your neck, and will be cranky come morning.”

  “I’m sorry?” She asked, doing her best to figure out what he meant.

  He pointed. “The couch. You were thinking about sleeping on the couch, weren’t you?” He fought off the smile, but in the end he lost. “There is a guest room. It’s just off the kitchen. You will be perfectly safe there.”

  Safe. Yes. Most of her life she’d been cautious, watching what she said, how she presented herself, what she did. She played the part her father wanted her to play perfectly. She didn’t want to be perfect anymore.

  “Thanks. I’ll sleep there.”

  Disappointment settled across his face, but he didn’t add pressure, only accepted her decision.

  “I’ve been in this suit all day. I don’t know about you, but I want to change into something more…comfortable.”

  First, he untucked his business shirt from his trousers. A suit guy he wasn’t. His coat and tie had long ago disappeared. Peeking through the blue cotton, his tanned skin beckoned her to touch. His fingers moved from button to button. With each passing second, she consciously suppressed the urge to lick her lips.

  He was gorgeous, his skin smooth and sweet as warm honey. Saliva pooled with her need to touch, to kiss.

  “I’ll wait.” She placed her wine glass on the deck table to keep from dropping the glass, and crossed her arms. “You go ahead.”

  “You sure?”

  “We had an agreement, remember?”

  He took a step closer. “No innuendos. No kisses. No massages. And certainly no sex,” he repeated. “But, if you remember, my agreement lasts only until you acknowledge the connection we have. You decide the next step.” He smiled. “But you asked me to kiss you once. Would you like another?”

  “No. I’m good.”

  Yes, his bronzed skin beckoned her to touch. To slide her fingers along the delicate hair disappearing below his belt. “Then again, I’m not so sure.”

  He moved a little closer, letting his mouth hover over her lips. “Kiss me, Rachelle.”

  Her lips seized his. He pressed deeper. His mouth was needy. Demanding. She could feel the heat from his torso soaking through her shirt. Her hands slid up and over his shoulders, and she wrapped her arms around his neck. Damn. Her whole body homed in on him, lifting, tightening, craving more.

  Then he was gone.

  Darn her heart for lamenting the loss.

  “I’m not doing this. I’m not playing fair. I want you, Rachelle, but I promised. You need to decide.” He held his hands splayed in front of him and backed up slowly. “This is your day.” He loosened his belt. Her eyes followed his happy trail that lead to… “Are those Spiderman briefs?”

  He looked down, and his cheeks turned a bit pink. “Don’t tell me. You’d prefer Superman.”

  “No. Spiderman’s fine. I mean he’s sort of the underdog of all superheroes. He’s sensitive, reliable, and a bit nerdy...in a cute, sexy way.”

  “Don’t forget he swings from buildings and swoops in to save damsels in distress.” The heat from his whispered reminder sent shivers down her spine.

  “Spiderman does like to play the hero. Although he is a bit on the serious side.”

  His eyes grew darker, more intent. “Do you want to play?”

  “Maybe some other time.”

  He stepped back. “I’ll go take a shower. If you change your mind and want to play rub-a-dub-dub, you’re always welcome.”

  He disappeared through the doorway, only to reappear a second later behind the glass window. He sauntered through his living room without a care. He was comfortable here. Funny enough, so was she. She stepped off the deck into the kitchen to pick up her luggage. After a few seconds, she found the spare room and shower, as promised.

  When she turned on the light, she gasped.

  The entire room was full of floor to ceiling bookcases littered with miniature action figure collections from comic books, movies, and games, each six-inch collection methodically stored on a four-tiered plastic shelf.

  On the next shelf, comic books in plastic sleeves were carefully stacked. A shadow box drew her closer. A book. She didn’t recognize the author or title, but the pages were curled from so many readings. The image of him sitting at his mother’s side reading came fluttering back, and she’d bet a lot of money his mother had given his precious keepsake.

  She inhaled a deep breath and closed the bedroom door, for no other reason than to avoid the temptation named Jacob Reyes, who was showering upstairs. He was a study in contrasts. A man, yet a boy wanting to be loved.

  The old Rachelle would have followed him up the stairs without thought. The new Rachelle needed to think.

  What did she want?

  She studied her image in the mirror with horror. There was a slight sunburn line around the left side of her face where she’d missed when applying her SPF moisturizer. Her hair was a mess. Her blouse had sweat and grease stains from where a piece of fish fell out of her taco. She lifted a hand to smooth her brows, but instead she dropped her hand to the counter.

  Who was the person staring back in the mirror? She didn’t know. Who was this woman? What did she want? The only thing she felt was confused, jumbled.

  She’d worked so hard to put her shattered life back together, but finding all the millions of scattered pieces was a daunting task.

  Determination bullied its way in.

  She would put her life back together. But what did she want her life to look like? Could she accept help? Should she?

  She bent to turn the shower on, then reached for a rag to remove her makeup. One layer at a time, she scrubbed and scrubbed and scrubbed until the layers disappeared.

  She rotated her head examining her face, first the left side, then right. “Hm. Not bad.”

  She no longer needed to be perfect. Look perfect. Flawed could be her new perfect.

  Her future was about trying and failing and trying something new.

  Stepping into the shower, she let the water cascade down her body, washing away the years of isolation, mental anguish, abuse.

  She was free to choose.

  The only problem? She didn’t have a clue what came next.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Jacob lay sprawled on his bed, his forearm over his eyes.

  She didn’t trust him. Not just him. She didn’t trust anyone.

  She hid it well. Earlier in the day, he could see the way her hands bunched into fists as soon as the investors walked into the room. She smiled, her shoulders were relaxed, but her hands were white knuckleballs. At the pier, she moved behind him, using him as
a barrier, when a guy needing change approached.

  She didn’t need to fear him.

  He would never do anything she didn’t want him to, but he didn’t have a clue how to open the doors and get past her reticence.

  A sound coming from the hall shifted his attention. He held his breath to still his heartbeat.

  “Don’t go,” he called into the darkness.

  “I didn’t know if you were still awake.” Rachelle’s darkened profile appeared in the doorway.

  How could I not? You consume me. “Do you need something?” Please, say me.

  “I…um…no. I’m good. I just wanted to say thanks.”

  “For?” he slowly lifted into a seated position. “I’m the one who dragged you to California to help me with my presentation.”

  “For today. For showing me the city.” She took a few more tentative steps toward the bed. He barely breathed. One flinch and she’d be down the stairs and locked away in a flash.

  “I had fun.”

  She took another step closer. The moonbeam from the skylight above his bed set her in a spotlight. He could see every luscious curve. The sheer joy of seeing her standing in his room caused all his body parts to switch to party mode. His groin tensed when she took another tentative step closer.

  A whiff of her floral shampoo quietly filled the room. He closed his eyes and took in her essence. His fingers itched to reach out and touch her, but he remained still and focused on his breathing.

  He opened his eyes to see her next to the bed. “Why are you here Rachelle?”

  “I don’t know.”

  He adjusted the sheets at his waist. “Then perhaps you’d better go back downstairs. I want you in the worst way, and the longer you stand there, the more I want you. But you need to know why you’re here first.”

  She didn’t leave—halleluiah. In fact, her chest heaved with indecision.

  “It’s odd. Before…I mean, when my dad controlled my life, I rebelled by pretending I was a seductress. The men in my father’s world wanted to be teased, then caught. I learned to perform the part my father had assigned, and perfected it over the years.”

  Bile soured his throat, his fists bunched the bedding, and he closed his eyes to swallow the disgust. “I don’t want you to be, or do, anything you don’t want to, Rachelle.”

  “I know.” She glanced back at the door, then surprised him by inching closer. “It’s just I don’t know what to do when I’m not playing a role. You’re right. I feel the connection with you, but I’m not sure what to do about how I feel without giving you the wrong impression.”

  “Come here.” He turned back the comforter and sheets. “Let me hold you for a while.”

  She knelt on the bed, then snuggled in next to him. He wrapped his body slowly around hers, careful not to trap her in any way. “Comfortable?”

  “I feel you.”

  “Yes, well, I can’t help it. My body is making it clear it wants you.”

  He leaned closer to take in her smell, then settled his head on the pillow, although he knew in about twenty minutes he wouldn’t be able to feel his arm. But he didn’t care. She was with him. That’s what mattered.

  He tightened his arm to adjust and feel the maximum skin possible, conforming to the lines of her body perfectly. There wasn’t one gap. Her hair splayed on his pillow felt so natural. So…right.

  “Jacob?”

  “Uh-huh?”

  She traced a finger down his forearm. “I think our bodies are communicating with each other.”

  His eyes opened wider, his breath becoming a bit faster. “And what are they saying?”

  “Please.”

  He brushed the hair from her face. “I told you before...it’s up to you to decide.”

  “I can’t.”

  “Yes you can. You already know what you want. At least I believe your body knows.” He shifted onto his elbow to search her face. “Your dad isn’t here. You,” he kissed her temple, “you get to choose.”

  She rolled onto her back. “Will you help me?”

  “Always,” he whispered against her lips. Her feather light touch teased and slid along his torso, then she shifted, throwing a leg over his thigh. When he hissed, she giggled, and her hands became more animated.

  His muscles tightened as he tried to remain still, but every cell wanted to connect, to fuse with her. She straddled him, then lifted the hem of her nightshirt, the moon creating shadows in many of her erotic places. She dropped little kisses on his chest.

  He reached up and traced the side of her breast with his fingertips, then circled her nipples until the skin puckered. After a few minutes, his hands drifted lower, and he reached for her core.

  “Not yet.” She scooted back.

  He playfully caught her wrist. “Do you want to see me beg?” He placed her fingers in his mouth and sucked, caressing her skin with his tongue.

  “Spiderman doesn’t beg.”

  He sat up and held her in his lap, leaning in, giving her breasts the same treatment as her fingers. She threw back her head, groaned, and arched her back, her body begging for more while one of his hands dallied lower to find the right spot and the other drew her closer. He wanted her to scream his name when her body pulsed with pleasure.

  “Jacob, there. Yes, there.”

  He adjusted the speed and pressure based on her response. She undulated on top of him and sent electrical pulses surging through his body, her thighs gripping his like a clamp.

  “Talk to me.”

  “More. Yes.” She arched back, her mouth slack. He’d never seen a piece of human art more beautiful. He wanted to make her remember this moment—the exact second she no longer had to play a role. The day she got to be the one whose needs were fulfilled. He wanted to give her this.

  He nipped playfully at her breasts.

  “Yes. Do that again,” she sighed.

  Her fingers wove into his hair, then let his tongue and fingers work their magic.

  Until it happened—she screamed his name into the room, then collapsed against him.

  Enjoying the rise and fall of her breath, he brushed a hand slowly up and down her back.

  “Wow. So that’s what an orgasm is supposed to feel like.”

  He brushed the hair from her face. “Are you telling me—?”

  “—I told you before, men are selfish, self-centered bastards.”

  He reached up and cupped her chin, stroking a thumb across her jawline. “And I told you I’m not like other men.”

  “I know.”

  He rolled her to his side, but she nudged him back. “Please tell me you’re not tired.”

  Of you? Never. “What do you have in mind?”

  “Let me show you.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Rachelle tucked her cold toes into the hem of Jacob’s sweatpants and reached for her coffee. The morning sun had just reached the deck, but hadn’t yet had the chance to warm the air.

  She savored the lingering rich, bitter swallow of dark roast and almond. She hadn’t had a decent cup for months and was taking full advantage of freshly ground coffee and a state-of-the-art brewer...even though she would never take advantage of the coffee’s owner.

  He was the kind of guy who liked to take care of people. She could tell.

  Letting him take care of her would be easy—too easy—but she couldn’t. After a while she’d resent him, and hate herself for the very thing she allowed him to do.

  She’d learned how to survive. Now she needed to learn how to live on her own.

  Yesterday was a thrill. The look on the investors’ faces when she presented her art. They liked it. No, they loved what she had created.

  Maybe she could do her art by night and interior design by day.

  The patio door opened. “Please tell me there’s more coffee.”

  He sounded like an old lawnmower cranking and sputtering before turning over. He leaned in and kissed her forehead before settling on the opposite chair.

  “I
made a full pot.” She slid a mug and the thermos his direction, knowing he liked his coffee black.

  He pointed. “I was wondering where my sweatpants ran off to.”

  “Do you mind?”

  “Nope.” He settled back in the chair and looked out over the horizon.

  She held up her cell phone with a picture of Dempsey playing with a tug-toy. “You were right. Dempsey is having fun at the kennel. Yesterday Karly sent me a short video of him running around with a pit bull.”

  “Do you miss him?”

  Miss him? The question jerked her emotions. “I’ve never been a dog person, but yeah, I miss him.” The tension she wasn’t aware she was holding eased. “He takes up a lot of my time, but he’s become my little buddy.”

  “Speaking of time, we’ve got a busy day.”

  The thread of calm she was trying to braid together snapped. “We do?”

  “I want us to meet my design team.”

  I was hoping you’d change your mind.

  This wasn’t good. Another man tucking her neatly into his life. She couldn’t go there. Not yet. She needed to learn who she was first.

  “That’s what you said, but meeting the team may not be a good idea. You saw how Larson reacted.” She stretched her sweater over her hands and curled tightly into the chair. “Why don’t you go and meet with your team? I don’t mind hanging out here.” On the street below a couple of kids rolled by on skateboards, and gave her another idea. “I could help Ben. He said he needed help. After I’ve showered, I’ll give him a call.”

  I’ll volunteer to do anything to avoid spending the day with you. You rattle my brain, not to mention the delicious things you do to my body parts.

  He shook his head. “Ben texted me this morning. He’s already delegated the tasks and fully implemented your plan. He said to let you know everything is under control.”

  She smiled back at him, not knowing what to say. She shifted uneasily in the chair.

  Over his cup, he watched her for a moment, then set the mug on the table and reached for her hand. “Talk to me.”