He wanted her. Lord knew she wanted him. And if she was the sex-kitten-y type she might be tempted to give him the one and only thing he was still willing to take from her and, conversely, take from him the one and only thing he was still willing to offer. Unfortunately, she wasn’t the sex-kitten-y type.
Then, seemingly from nowhere, a voice whispered through her head, no more missed opportunities, Eve…
Chapter Twenty
Despite her height, Eve looked very small and delicate in her oversized T-shirt and her bunched up tube socks as she lay propped against the bulkhead. But when Bill offered her a plate stacked with three peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, he came to the conclusion that she may look small, however, she was undoubtedly the biggest disaster of his entire life.
Because beyond all reason, beyond his better judgment, he felt himself falling. Again. Just ass over teakettle taking the dive, much like Jack after he’d gone up to the hill to fetch his pail of water. And okay, that just proved his point, because look how that had turned out. Then, if a person—namely he—wasn’t inclined to learn any lessons from nursery rhymes, then said person—namely he—had only to take a long, hard look at history…
At what did history tell him, do you suppose?
Well, just that she’d betrayed him once. That she’d proven he couldn’t trust her. That it’d been her decision to go out with Blake Parish that night after she’d pledged to remain true to him and only him—of course what’d happened afterward wasn’t her fault, but the initial decision had been hers. So…falling for her again would be bad…asinine…the stupidest, craziest, most ridiculous thing he could do, right?
Right.
Unfortunately, he felt himself standing on the edge of a cliff, poised to do exactly that. Especially when she looked at him, all big doe-eyes and hero-worship and…shit.
He watched her pale, slender hand reach out to snag the top sandwich and just that one innocent move, that one silly, everyday occurrence felt somehow intimate. Suddenly, he was all about the I’m the big, strong provider caring for my little woman. Jesus Christ, it was pathetic.
“Thank you for taking care of the prop,” she murmured softly.
“It was nothing a good, sharp knife couldn’t handle,” he assured her. “I didn’t even need to come up for air.” And to prove it, the boat’s engine hummed happily beneath them, the autopilot directing them across Lake Michigan’s smooth surface toward Ludington.
“I should’ve—”
“Shh,” he interrupted her. “You should’ve done exactly what you did. Relax. It’s been one hell of a day.”
She nodded, swallowing. “O-okay. Thank you, Billy,” she said. And inexplicably he was thrust back in time, back to a moment twelve years ago when they were hot and heavy in the backseat of his Camaro with the windows all steamed up, with his hand in her pants and her sweet, pale nipple in his mouth. She’d been soft sighs and hesitant, searching hands, but the minute he thrust his finger inside her tight, wet body, she’d tensed in his arms and he’d known. Despite the slow-as-molasses-in-winter route they’d been taking to the ultimate physical discovery of each other, despite her assurances that she was ready, he’d known.
She hadn’t been ready.
So he stopped. It was the hardest thing he ever did, slowly removing his finger from her body while his balls pounded so hard he thought they might just explode. But he stopped, and he told her, “Let’s wait a little while longer, okay? Let’s just hold off until you’re really, really ready.”
He remembered her opening her mouth to protest, but he halted her with a kiss, a slow, thorough kiss. A kiss he tried his best to infuse with all sorts of promises. Then he remembered pulling back, resting his fevered forehead against hers. “We have all the time in the world,” he said.
She’d searched his eyes then, her expression torn. And he’d known the horny teenager in her wanted to know what lay beyond that final hurdle, and, talk about a Charlie Foxtrot, because he’d soooo wanted to show her, had been dying to show her. But the scared young virgin in her hadn’t been quite there yet. And she’d listened to that second part of herself that day. With a sigh that was one part regret and another part relief, she’d said, “Okay. Thank you, Billy.”
And looking back on all of that now, knowing how it’d turned out, he didn’t know whether he should give himself a medal for being a stand-up guy, or if he should just go ahead and dub himself Unluckiest Bastard on the Planet.
Blinking, he realized he’d kept the plate raised toward her for a ridiculous length of time, and he snatched it back, surreptitiously watching as she took a delicate bite of the sandwich. She licked a dollop of grape jelly from the corner of her mouth and he thought, Alrighty, then. It’s time to vamoose yourself, Bill ol’ boy, before you do something really stupid.
Turning to head back to the small booth and table, her voice stopped him. “Don’t go, Billy,” she pleaded quietly. “Won’t you…I…I’d like it if you sat with me.”
On the bed. She didn’t need to say those last three words. They were implied when she scooted over on the mattress, making room for him.
And talk about doing something really stupid…
For a moment he hesitated, glancing out the porthole on the starboard side, hoping…what? That there’d be a neon sign glowing out there, spelling out for him in no uncertain terms what he should do? But the only thing he could see outside the porthole was darkness, just a pitch-black void that gave him no help whatsoever.
Go figure. The universe was a total wad when it came to him, remember?
Which left him with no recourse but to swallow the lump of uncertainty in his throat before blowing out a covert breath and turning back to Eve. She sat looking at him, a combination of fear and hope in her eyes. Her usually sleek hair was still a little damp and a lot rumpled, and her red bikini bottoms were peeking out from where the hem of her T-shirt rode high on her hip. Her eyes were bruised and puffy, her nose was pink, and her left cheek sported a glistening tear trail. But even given all of that, she was still temptation personified, everything he’d ever wanted and knew for goddamned sure he shouldn’t, because he refused to put himself out there again. Not when he didn’t know if he could trust her. Not when it’d nearly killed him to have his trust in her, his faith in her broken the first time. Not when—
“It-it’s okay,” she said, tucking her chin and blinking rapidly as she hastily took another bite of the sandwich.
Damnit all to hell, and now he’d gone and made her cry again.
“Of course I’ll sit with you,” he said, promptly perching on the smallest edge of the bed, barely putting his weight down because…well, then he’d be on the bed. With Eve. He’d be on the bed with Eve and that could be very…stupid.
Shit. Had he covered this ground before? Eve plus bed equals stupid? Yeah, that sounded like an equation he’d already solved.
Giving her his back while he devoured one of the remaining two sandwiches in a couple of massive bites, the peanut butter and white bread stuck to the roof of his mouth and his tongue. He blamed them for the fact that he had a hard time swallowing.
Of course, the real reason his mouth was pulling the whole dry-as-the-desert-Southwest thing was because he could actually feel himself slipping closer and closer to the void with each passing second. Slipping closer and closer to that place where he threw caution to the wind and—
“I never did tell you how sorry I was about those pictures,” she broke into his frantic thoughts, a catch in her voice.
He turned, cocking his head and frowning. “You can’t blame yourself for those,” he assured her. “Not after today.”
“But I do blame myself,” she insisted, staring down at the half-eaten sandwich in her hand. “If only I’d had the guts to tell my father to…to shove it. If…if only I’d stayed true to you, kept the promise I gave you, then none of this would’ve happe
ned. None of this…” She trailed off, shaking her head. “I’m just really sorry, Billy.”
A few months ago he would have been beyond thrilled to hear those words from her mouth. Now? Well, for some reason—probably because, in spite of everything, he just felt so friggin’ sorry for her—they were about as rewarding as a cheap, plastic trophy.
And for a moment he considered holding his tongue, for a moment he thought perhaps it might be better for him, and for her, if he just accepted her apology and let it all go. But the question of why had been burning a hole in his brain since the day that wedding announcement arrived in the mail. And he knew if ever there was a time to face the facts about what’d happened, to get the explanation he’d always felt he so richly deserved, it was now. So, he sucked in a deep breath through his nose and blurted, “Why did you agree to go out with Blake?”
Her graceful throat worked over a swallow, her blue eyes filling with tears. Again he considered holding his tongue, calling back the question, letting her off the hook, but when he opened his mouth, instead of the words forget it. It doesn’t matter now. It’s all water under the bridge…Instead of those words coming out, he demanded instead, or maybe it was his ego that demanded, “Was it because he was handsome? Or rich? Or smart? Or suave? Was it because he came from the right family, or—”
She shook her head, two large teardrops spilling over her lower lids to run down her cheeks and drip from her trembling chin. His instinct was to reach forward to wipe at the glistening trails. Instead, he curled his fingers around the plate in his lap as his heart thudded viciously in his chest, as his blood hammered through his veins, as he remained as still as the hot, humid air outside. Not daring to move. Barely daring to breathe when she blew out a puff of breath that ruffled the hair around her face, causing one dark strand to stick to her tear-wet cheek.
“I was a coward,” she said. Just those four words. And they explained so much, yet, at the same time, revealed so little. “My dad kept harping on me,” she eventually continued, her face twisting with derision and self-disgust. “And I was too chicken-hearted to keep saying no to him. So, you know, I thought, Hey, I’ll just do it. I’ll go out with Blake. That’ll get my dad off by back, and Billy never has to know.”
He bit the inside of his cheek, a thousand responses tumbling through his head. But how could you think to deceive me like that? Why couldn’t you have just stood up for me and the vows we made? Why didn’t you tell me what your father was up to? Why didn’t you—
“But it was a betrayal,” she cut in on his frothing thoughts. “I betrayed you the moment I agreed to that date. And for that I’m so very sorry. You have no idea how sorry I am.”
“But why did—”
“And then afterward,” she interrupted him, her eyes taking on a sad, faraway look that had him wondering if she’d even heard his attempt to ask a question, or if her mind had traveled back in time. “When you didn’t—” She stopped herself abruptly, timidly meeting his gaze. “I don’t know,” she finally shrugged. “I suppose it was just…maybe easy is the word for it. I was disgusted with myself, depressed and withdrawn, and there was Blake, telling me he wanted me, telling me I was beautiful and desirable. He was handsome and charming. My father loved him. My friends loved him. He knew all the same people I knew, did all the same things I did, so when he asked me to marry him, I figured, why not? It seemed like the thing to do, the thing everyone wanted me to do. Of course, that was the rationale of a young and incredibly stupid mind. Obviously, right?” She snorted derisively, picking at the crust on her sandwich. “Considering how it all turned out?”
And it was finished. The explanation was finished. Finally. Finally, he knew why.
He should’ve felt better. He didn’t…
Perhaps that’s because there was still one thing that didn’t make any sense. “Why did you send me that invitation?” The invitation that’d broken his fucking heart. The invitation that’d torn his entire world apart. “That’s the part I don’t get. I never knew you to be intentionally cruel.”
She cocked her head, her brow crinkling. “What invitation?”
“To your wedding. Did you send it to me thinking that it would be a sig—” he stopped himself when a series of emotions passed over her expressive face. First there was shock, quickly replaced by comprehension, morphing into unmistakable disgust mixed with more than a smidge of remorse.
His gut twisted, his ulcer burping up a cloud of stomach acid that warned him the peanut butter might’ve been a mistake. “You didn’t know,” he surmised, something inside him shifting, just a tiny bit. “It was your father.”
Her soft lips pulled down into a deep frown. “I…I suppose he just wanted to make sure you knew which way the wind had blown.”
He shook his head. “I guess I should’ve known.” And, really, he probably should have. Because even though she’d disappointed him, even though she’d gone back on her word, and even though she’d admitted to being a coward and had chosen another man over him because it was easier, the fact remained, Eve could never be purposefully unkind.
“How could you have known? I’d already screwed you over so badly, how could you have known I wouldn’t stoop to the next level?”
“You didn’t—”
“Don’t make any excuses for me, Billy,” she interrupted, her expression suddenly stern, her blue eyes boring into him. “I won’t be able to stand it if you start making excuses for me.”
Okay. So he wouldn’t make any excuses for her. At least not aloud. But inside himself he felt a categorical change, a shift in paradigm, in perception and—
“You should’ve been my first,” she said abruptly.
What the—
His brain turned to mush and slid out through his ears. His ringing ears. They must be ringing, right? Because he couldn’t have heard her correctly. “Huh?” It was the most astute question he could formulate.
“I’ve always regretted missing that chance.” And what was that expression on her face? Confusion, doubt…hope? All of the above? For some reason, probably because his brain was puddled on the mattress and stars were spinning in front of his vision, he was having trouble processing.
“Huh?” And there he went again, being all witty and clever, but really. He couldn’t think straight. Or crooked. Or any other way. He just couldn’t think. Period. Because if he wasn’t mistaken, Evelyn Rose Edens was propositioning him.
He must’ve been quiet for too long, because she rushed ahead. “I know how you feel about me. And I don’t blame you. I wouldn’t trust me either after what happened. So, I don’t expect this to lead anywhere. But I’m okay with that. If…if you’re okay with that, I mean. I…I just…” She stopped, rolled in her lips, and through the pinpoints of light dancing before his eyes, he could make out her imploring expression. “I just really want to see what it’s like to be with you. Even if it’s only this one time.”
And what did a man say to something like that?
Well, even with only a partially intact cerebral cortex, and despite the fact he was pretty sure it would undoubtedly blow up in his face, he knew what to say. Because what was that line from Catcher in the Rye? Something like, In my mind, I’m probably the biggest sex maniac you ever saw?
Well, when it came to Eve, no truer words had ever been written. So, yeah. He knew what to say. One thing, and one thing only. “Okay.”
***
Okay. Just that one word. Okay. Then, full stop.
Eve wasn’t precisely sure what she’d expected from Billy. Perhaps a rebuff, or maybe a flying leap on top of her. But certainly not…okay. Just…okay.
What did that even mean? Okay to the way he felt about her? Okay to the part where she said she realized he could never trust her again? Okay to the sex? Okay to the sex not meaning anything?
Which part, dangit? Which part is okay?
“Uh…Billy?
”
“Huh?”
Was it just her, or had his vocabulary shrunk? And, for Pete’s sake, she could really use a little help here. Was he purposefully trying to humiliate her by just sitting there, brown eyes intent and blinking? Sheesh! Her cheeks were so hot she wouldn’t be surprised to see flames shooting out of her face. “Wh-what do you mean by…um…by okay?”
And his response? Blink. Blink.
All right, that was it. She couldn’t stand it a second longer. “Because I’m not really the sexpot, vixeny sort. I can’t tell if that means, okay, you want the sex. Or okay, you know it’d be meaningless. Or okay, I’m right in that you won’t be able to trust me again. When you say okay, do you—”
“Come here, Eve,” he said, gently reaching to take the half-eaten sandwich from her nerveless fingers. She watched, breath lodged in her throat, as he placed it on top of the remaining PB and J. And after he bent to set the plate on the floor, he straightened and patted the mattress beside him.
Gulp.
All right, and she’d officially lost her nerve…
“Billy, I—”
“Come here, Eve,” he commanded again. Yes, commanded. And silly, weak-willed woman that she was, that authoritative tone went all through her, zinging up her spine and fizzing through her heated blood. It was all about the I’m the big, tough man, so you will obey me.
She wasn’t supposed to like that. She wasn’t supposed to…
Heaven help her, in this situation, she did.
But she needed to know what he meant before she went and made an even bigger fool of herself than she already had. Swallowing, she bit her bottom lip and said, “So…so by okay, you meant—”
“Sweetheart.” When he used that endearment, she felt like flying. “Come. Here.”
The softly glowing lights overhead danced through his chocolaty hair and highlighted his steely, stubbled jaw, and the gleam of determination and…was that hunger she saw in the depths of his eyes?
Born Wild Page 22