Pulse (Collide)

by Gail McHugh

  “And here I was thinking you preferred me naked.” Another giggle as Gavin groaned. Tilting her head as he worked his lips against her neck, Emily noticed water about to bubble over a pot on the stove. “It’s boiling,” Emily breathed huskily. The sensation of his mouth caressing her collarbone sent pleasure up her spine.

  “I’m sure it is. I’ve always had that effect on you.” Gavin’s voice vibrated over Emily’s skin as he started unbuttoning her blouse. “Remember, I do things to your body no one else can.”

  Though utterly and completely turned on, Emily couldn’t help but bust out laughing. Gavin looked adorably confused, but in that moment, all of her nervousness hit her at once, and she couldn’t stop.

  Brows drawn together, Gavin sent her a questioning stare. His hands fell away from her blouse as she continued her hysterics. “What?” His mouth quirked into a half smile. “I’m not a pro, but I thought they were pretty good lines.”

  Emily placed her hand on his chest. “I was talking about the water on the stove. Do you really think I would use the word boiling to describe what you do to my body?”

  Gavin blinked. “Is this an attempt to make me feel better? If so, you’re failing miserably.”

  Emily playfully pursed her lips, threading her fingers through his hair. “Aw, did I bruise my man’s ego?”

  “In more ways than one,” he admitted. Like fire, the raw hunger igniting his features devoured her. He leaned into her ear, his voice a slow whisper. “But don’t worry… my retaliation will be your wonderful undoing.”

  His promise slid over Emily like silk. A shiver prickled her flesh as he feathered his mouth across her jaw, her muscles coiling, taut with desire. Wrapping his hand around her nape, Gavin crushed his lips against hers. Leaving her nearly breathless, he tangled his fingers in her hair, his kiss intense, and just as quickly backed away. As she tried to recover from the delicious blow of his overly skilled tactics, Emily heard him stifling a laugh. He wandered into the kitchen. Half in a daze, she slumped onto the leather couch, slipped off her heels, and discarded them on the marble floor.

  “Emily,” Gavin called.

  Still dizzy, she swallowed and took a deep breath. “Gavin.”

  “I just made your body boil, sweets,” he pointed out with a raised brow and a smirk. “Would it be safe to say I’ll achieve the same results once I have your naked body pinned beneath mine tonight?”

  Knowing the man staring at her was nothing short of enthralling, exhilarating, powerful, and all-consuming, Emily found herself simply nodding. His words wiped her clear of her own. He grinned that sexy grin that’d caught her off guard from day one and made his way into the kitchen.

  He opened a box of pasta and tossed the noodles into the pot of water. Steam drifted up, wreathing around him. He flipped on another burner, drizzled a touch of olive oil into a pan, and layered a few pieces of chicken breast coated with flour into it. After washing his hands, he grabbed two plates from the cabinet. Sitting back, Emily took in the way he maneuvered around the space with ease. He had this shit down. A real life Emeril, but one who was completely hot and undoubtedly worked out. Considering he sat behind a desk all day, there was no other way his body stayed magnificently in shape. Her eyes traced the faded jeans hanging perfectly over his trim waist. She watched soberly as his muscles flexed with every movement underneath a black T-shirt. He was so casual, yet so powerful. She wondered if he knew it.

  Since her extent of cooking knowledge went no further than ramen noodles or a box of mac and cheese, Emily knew she had some catching up to do in the cooking department. Considering Gavin had a private chef prepare most of his meals, she found it amusing he even knew what he was doing. However, this wouldn’t be the first time something Gavin did or said shocked her. A warm feeling of comfort spilled through her. Dillon had never cooked for them. They’d always gone out to dinner. Not that she didn’t enjoy being spoiled to some extent, but she loved the small things Gavin did. Somehow, as she watched Gavin pull out a bottle of white wine from the refrigerator and pour them both a glass, she knew he was going to fill her life with countless small things that would equate to more than anything any other man would ever give her. For a brief second, she smiled. Then the reality of what the evening would consist of attacked her nerves again. She cringed, regretting that she’d lied to him. Swallowing, she took a deep breath and rose to her feet.

  She moved into the kitchen and came up behind Gavin at the stove. She circled her arms around his waist, stood on her tiptoes, and perched her chin on his shoulder. “I didn’t know you cooked. You keep getting sexier and sexier.”

  At that, he chuckled. “Wait. I thought I was shmexy?” He forked a piece of pasta out of the pot and reached back to feed it to Emily.

  She took it into her mouth. “Shmexy?” she asked, chewing and clearly confused. “Is that your take on the word?”

  Turning, Gavin lifted a brow, amusement in his eyes. “No, doll. It’s yours after you’ve had too much to drink.” He placed a kiss on the crown of her head. “And I think it’s very shmexy.”

  She stared up at him and smiled. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, but I’m just gonna go with it.”

  “Smart woman,” he said, the corner of his mouth crooked upward. “Go take a seat, shmexy. Everything should be ready in a minute.”

  “Shmexy.” Emily laughed. “Well, what can I help you with, Mr. Shmexy?”

  “Bring this to the table.” Gavin plucked a basket of garlic bread from the counter.

  “That’s it?” she asked. Walking away, she set it on the table. “There’s nothing else I can do for you?”

  Grinning, Gavin leaned against the counter and crossed his arms. “How can you make such a simple, innocent question sound so sexual?”

  Wearing a grin of her own, Emily placed her hands on her hips. “Maybe it’s a gift?”

  Gavin bit his lip and moved toward her. Standing inches from her body, he whispered in her ear, “Can I unwrap it, then?”

  Emily drew in a shuddering breath at the feel of his soft voice so close to her. “We have to eat first.”

  “See? You just did it again, Miss Cooper.” He lifted his hand to her neck. Massaging his fingers into her hair, his eyes glassed over with a want Emily couldn’t mistake. “You know I love eating… dessert.”

  Heat curled through Emily, settling in her stomach. God, he made himself nearly irresistible. Blowing out the breath she was holding, she shook her head. “You, sir, need to learn how to control yourself.” Trying to exercise her own self-control, but more concerned about the dramatic turn the conversation was about to take, Emily backed away and settled into her chair.

  With slight shock in his eyes, Gavin watched her for a second and then turned back to the stove. “You deplete me of any control I’ve ever had.” He strained the pasta and poured some tomato sauce on it. “But you know this already.”

  Truth. There it was smashed right in her face. Emily knew he couldn’t control himself around her, and although she felt the very same way on so many levels, in that moment, she couldn’t stomach that he wanted her. She couldn’t stomach herself. Her question hit the air before she could think about it. “Why, Gavin?” She looked up from the table. “Why would you choose me? You can have any woman you want. Why me?”

  Turning, Gavin drew his brows together. “Why wouldn’t I want you, Emily?”

  She lifted her shoulder in a casual shrug. “Because there’s absolutely nothing to me. I’m weak in so many ways, and you… you’re strong.” Emily paused, shifting in her seat. “Nothing about me fits what you need or deserve.”

  Gavin stood perfectly still, his stare unwavering. “Why are you saying all of this?”

  “I can list more reasons why you shouldn’t want me.” Another shrug as she stared at him.

  “I don’t want you to list any more bullshit reasons why you think I shouldn’t want you.” He moved to her, completely unknowing where all of this was coming from. Reaching fo
r her hand, he gently pulled her up from the chair. His eyes danced over her face. “Do you want me to list the reasons why I need you, Emily? Because that’s what you are to me. You’re a need. Not a want.” Tears welling in her eyes, and lips trembling, Emily shook her head and started to speak, but Gavin cut her off. He cupped her cheeks, drawing her face closer to his. “I’m not sure you’ll ever understand, but I told you I need you more than I need my next breath. Since the day we met, from the second I laid eyes on you, there’s never been anyone else worth taking up a fucking inch of space in my mind.” He stroked his thumbs along her lips, laying his own against her forehead. “God created me to love you. Let me heal the cracks in your heart. I know this broken woman didn’t exist before Dillon. I refuse to believe that.”

  Love over lies. Trust over mistrust. Heart breaking and swelling, Emily pulled in a deep breath. “I lied to you,” she croaked, wiping tears from her eyes.

  Gavin swallowed down a sudden feeling of unease, slowly dropping his hands from her face. “Wait… what? What did you lie to me about?”

  His gaze burned into Emily, making her step back. Mind in turmoil and unable to breathe, nausea hit her with pounding force. Cupping her hand over her mouth, Emily bolted toward the bathroom, nearly tripping over moving boxes scattered throughout the penthouse.

  “Emily,” Gavin called, following her.

  She reached the bathroom, slammed the door, and locked it. Hunched over the toilet, she dry heaved repeatedly. Her stomach had been void of any food over the last several hours, so nothing came up.

  Gavin banged on the door, worry evident in his tone. “Emily, let me in.”

  Another vicious lurch plowed through her stomach. She shook her head and stared into the toilet. “I… I need a second, Gavin.”

  “No, Emily,” he retorted, jiggling the handle. “Open the door. Now.”

  Though she heard the concern in his voice, she also heard authority, and she didn’t put it past him to break in if she didn’t do what he asked. Straightening, Emily drew in a gulp of air and inched over to the door. With so many emotions pummeling through her, she couldn’t decipher if she was coming or going. Eyes glassed over, she swung open the door. Her words belted from her mouth before Gavin had a chance to speak. “Did you know one in three women wind up in a mentally or physically abusive relationship?”

  Though his muscles tensed immediately, and blood raced within his veins, Gavin stared back wordlessly.

  Sniffling, Emily nodded. “But the funny part is, it doesn’t start off that way. It starts off wonderful, as close to everything you imagined something solid should be. Then little by little, the relationship changes, and you wonder if you’re going crazy. You literally start to question your own sanity. One minute, the person you’re in love with is kind and caring, and the next, they’re flipping out. The first few times you write it off, assuming they’re having a bad day, but then it becomes a regular pattern of behavior. The person on the receiving end isn’t oblivious to it but starts blaming themselves.”

  With his entire body on alert, Gavin clenched his jaw and tried to school his tone. In a low whisper, he brushed his fingers across her cheek and stared into her eyes. “Did Dillon lay his hands on you?”

  Shaking, Emily swallowed. “Did you know mental abuse can make a victim feel depression, anxiety, helplessness, nonexistent self-worth, and despair? But that doesn’t matter because your feelings don’t count, and you don’t realize they never will. Sometimes the abuser makes you think they count. Then you’re back to thinking that you’re the one who belongs in an institution, not them. But on the norm, your needs or feelings, if you actually have the fucking courage to express them—and most women don’t—are ignored, ridiculed, minimized, and dismissed. You’re told you’re too demanding, or there’s something wrong with you. Basically, you’re denied the right to feel… anything.”

  Crying hysterically, Emily started for the living room. Sitting on the couch, she stared up at Gavin as he walked into the room, his eyes pinned on hers. “Sometimes you distance yourself from friends or loved ones. Sometimes you’re not even allowed to have friends. Though you’ve given this person your heart and soul, their behavior becomes so erratic, it’s as if you feel like you’re walking on landmines. But you continue to love them because they weren’t like this when you met, so it only seems obvious it’s your fault. Then—here’s the hysterical part and just how twisted this whole thing becomes—you start making excuses for their inexcusable behaviors in an effort to convince yourself it’s normal. In an actual, damn effort to convince yourself you’re the one who’s made them become the monster they’ve turned into.”

  Heart pounding, Gavin knelt in front of her. Anger-filled electricity zipped through his nerves as he reached for her hands, lacing his fingers in hers. “For Christ’s sake, Emily, tell me what he did to you.”

  With tears streaming down her face, Emily started laughing. “Wait, Gavin, here’s the kicker. A couple of ladies from an organization fighting against domestic abuse told me I allowed this to happen because ‘I’m a product of my environment.’ I mean really, how clichéd is that? Did I ever tell you about my parents? Did I ever tell you how after my father left us, my mother continued pursuing assholes?”

  Wanting to rip the answer out of her, Gavin simply shook his head. Emily had never opened up like this to him, and he knew he needed to let her speak. He squeezed her hands as his chest constricted with every unsteady breath she took.

  “Well, she did. She went through them like the world was going to end the next day. I get that being a single parent was hard for her. I do. But she definitely had a thing for picking up the local drunk at the nearest bar in order to help pay the next month’s rent. They’d help for a while before they bounced out like my father did, but that never came without a price. She let them smack her around a bit if dinner wasn’t cooked by the time they walked in the door, or if the house wasn’t cleaned by the time they kicked off their filthy boots. They all looked different, but they came from a mold. Each and every single one of them was cut from the same piece of abusive wax.”

  Shaking her head, Emily squeezed Gavin’s hands this time. “So, those women told me witnessing my mother’s weakness drove my own, and her watching my grandfather beat my grandmother was what drove hers. They told me I was raised thinking it was okay for a man to do that to a woman. I was raised thinking self-worth was gained by catering to a man’s needs at whatever cost. Even if it meant degrading myself time and time again.

  “But the apple can fall far from the tree. Fifty percent of children who grow up seeing that will never walk in their parents’ footsteps, whether it’s a boy watching his father beat his mother or a young girl watching her mother get hit. But this apple landed on the tree’s stump, Gavin. This apple took the same path as her mother.” Pausing, Emily looked at her hands tangled around Gavin’s. When she brought her equally pained gaze back to his, it was all she could do to get out the words. “They also told me because I physically fought back against Dillon the day of our wedding, I’d finally broken the cycle.”

  And there it was. The question answered right before him. The question Gavin already knew the answer to. His stomach bottomed out. Feeling his face go pale, he slowly rose as blades of wrath sliced through his chest. Blood. He wanted Dillon’s blood, and he wanted it now.

  Emily surged to her feet, her legs shaky. “Don’t. Please don’t,” she whispered, staring into his venom-filled eyes. Bringing her hands up to his cheeks, her body trembled with his. “I’m here with you, Gavin, and I’m fine.” Silence fell, its presence suffocating as she watched Gavin try to control his features. It wasn’t working though. She could see he was about to explode. “I didn’t tell you because I don’t want you getting hurt. I don’t want you getting in trouble or going through any more than you have already. Please, don’t hate me for lying to you. Please don’t.”

  Gavin had known she lied to him that night. Something deep within his gut told h
im she did. However, another part tricked him into believing her. Gavin gave her a look of confusion, a scowl marring his face. “I could never hate you, Emily. Do you believe me when I say that?”

  Emily nodded, tears trickling down her cheeks.

  “And you’re worried about me?”

  “Yes,” she admitted faintly. “I have to protect you from all of this. I caused everything.”

  “Protect me after what he did to you?” he asked, the exasperation in his tone cutting through the air. Gavin lifted his hands to her face, his eyes boring into hers. “My God, Emily, you didn’t cause any of this, but you can’t ask me not to do anything to him.”

  “Please,” she cried.

  Gritting his teeth, Gavin turned away. “No.”

  Fear shot through Emily’s stomach as she watched him yank his keys from the counter. As she moved toward him, her mind on fire with images of what he was about to do, Emily broke out into hysterics she never thought possible. She’d cried many times throughout her life, but nothing held a candle to what her tiny frame was producing at this very moment. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. Legs feeling as though she was trudging through mud, she barely made her way across the penthouse. Emily curled her fingers around the back of Gavin’s arm as he was about to open the front door.

  Gavin turned, his expression fierce, his stare raking over her. “You’re asking me not to be a man, Emily, and I can’t fucking do that. I can’t. You’re mine, and if I didn’t leave, this wouldn’t have happened. Don’t ask me not to make this right in the only way I know how.”

  Breath seized and heart disintegrating from the notion he blamed himself, Emily hesitated a moment before lifting her hand to his face. Stroking his jaw, she shook her head, her voice a soft whisper. “Gavin Blake, you’re more of a man than any man I’ve ever known. You’re gentle. You’re kind. You’re strong and witty. You’re personable and warm, and you can reduce most females into blithering puddles of goo with the simplest words. “ Dragging her fingers from his jaw, she trailed them down to his chest. “You have a heart you wear on your sleeve, and you couldn’t do a thing to make me fall more in love with you. Not a single thing.” Pressing up on her tiptoes, she experienced a bout of nerves as she twined her hands behind his neck, bringing his face to hers. “And you’re not to blame for this.”