Held

by T K Barber

  All she could think about was how badly she wanted to kiss him. She had no idea if it was leftover adrenaline or just raw need. He was right there. All she had to do was grab him. Just woman up and grab him. She licked her lips, and his eyes tracked the movement.

  “But what if I'm not the dangerous, devil-may-care man you think I am? What if I was a nice guy who's being dragged through hell? One who's literally being tortured daily by his failures?”

  He stepped flush against her, resting one hand on her cheek and the other gently wrapped around her upper arm, causing a short breath to escape her lips. His gaze intensified and she swallowed. Shock and excitement drowned out everything else, and her shoulder pain moved straight to the back of her mind.

  How was he being tortured? What did that even mean?

  Her lungs were stuck, and her heart ran wild from the raw passion in his eyes. Raw pain. Raw anger. Raw fear. An entire tortured movie played through them and she was completely transfixed. His chest moved against hers with each of his quick breaths.

  “What then, Scarlet?”

  He loosened and slowly retightened his grip on her arm, clenching his jaw, and she shuddered out another breath. Her body was on fire; every sensation magnified as she watched his face.

  “Would you still want me?” His eyes scanned her face, faltering at her mouth more than once, then his expression hardened. “Would you?!”

  His voice boomed, begging to know the answer. Of course, the answer was yes. She wanted him before. She wanted him now. She couldn't come up with a single reason she wouldn't want him in whatever future scenario he was imagining. But she couldn't make her voice work. It always left her at the worst possible time!

  “Damn it, Scarlet, answer me.” His voice, hoarse with desire, flowed right through her body.

  At least her hands and arms were still working, even though her voice had apparently jumped ship. She locked eyes with him and dared to reach out.

  His eyes caught the movement, and his jaw clenched. All she could manage to make her body do was hook her fingertips into the sides of his sweatshirt, but apparently, that was enough. He let out a deep, rumbling noise, infinitesimally tightened his hold on her face, and stopped waiting for her answer.

  He pulled her the remaining inch and pressed his lips to hers, drawing a desperate whimper from her. Was she dreaming? Warmth spread through her, and the feel of his facial hair brushing against her skin as his soft lips tried to tear her apart was mind-numbingly intoxicating.

  So that's what a kiss was supposed to feel like. She'd apparently been doing it wrong her whole life.

  A quiet moan escaped her sore throat, and a groan ripped from his as she threw her arms around his neck, pulling herself up against him. She barely registered the shoulder pain as every bit of desire for him since that first night poured out of her body.

  He quickly moved his hands to her waist, and his fingers threatened to go through her skin, searing her at every point of contact. Every movement his tongue made with hers lit her body on fire and caused delicious bolts to shoot through her.

  He was making love to her mouth, and she could scarcely move.

  It didn’t matter if he was wrong for her.

  Her heart hammered in her chest as his grip loosened on her waist.

  It didn’t matter if he was right for her. She only cared about right here, right now. Only cared that being in his arms washed away every thought about what just happened. Weak, she held on tighter, and breathed in his scent. It made her feel safe. Wanted.

  Lightheaded with arousal and adrenaline, her knees started to give.

  He cinched one arm around her waist, keeping her pressed against the side without the gun, and his free hand traveled every inch of her available torso like he was memorizing it.

  When she ran her tongue along his bottom lip, then nipped it lightly, he groaned out a short breath and held her tighter. Drunk on his kiss and his hard body, she grabbed handfuls of his hair. She moaned into his mouth as his hand moved, and he shuddered. God, yes!

  Just before her brain couldn’t take it one second longer, he dropped his hands down and gripped her hips tightly. She gasped as he broke the contact and pushed her backward.

  Dear God.

  He exhaled slowly as he bent over, his hands still on her hips. His fingertips dug into her flesh, and she fought to catch her breath as she stared at him in dazed euphoria. She could still taste the faint peppermint as she licked her bottom lip, speaking in a forced whisper.

  “Why'd—”

  “You . . . I . . . should go.”

  Her mind reeled; one hundred percent sure she’d heard him wrong. Her voice cleared, and she spoke flatly.

  “What.”

  “Go. Home. Or . . .” He sucked in a breath and exhaled slowly again. “. . .wherever. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that. I can't—”

  Oh hell no.

  “Screw you, Nick!” She interrupted, her nostrils flaring in anger.

  His head shot up, eyes wide and searching. “W—”

  “Shut-up! You listen to me. You know I want you, and I know you want me. Quit pushing me away. Literally and figuratively!”

  She slapped his hands off her hips, and he straightened. She stomped the space between them, grabbed his collar, and jerked his head back down to eye level with her.

  “Fuck me. Now.”

  ***Nick***

  Nick’s eyes bugged. He lost his breath. He lost the ability to reason. He couldn't remember why he'd stopped in the first place. He didn't know where they were. He didn't even know what day it was.

  A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, and her brows jumped as he grabbed her waist and ducked his head to kiss her neck. She sucked in a pained breath, and he froze.

  Oh. Right. That was why.

  He let out a long, frustrated groan and pushed her back gently.

  “Sorry that hurt. No. Goodnight Scarlet. Go home. I’m sorry. This—”

  He jerked backward, away from her outstretched hand and stormed off toward his building.

  What a mess. He should have never . . . God, what? Never saved her? He groaned, disgusted at the thought. His body was a buzz of sensations, but common sense had finally bested desire. It was a terrible idea to go, but he couldn't stay with her one more second. He was close to making a huge mistake. A huge, fucking fantastic mistake.

  He blew out another slow, calming breath. He didn’t want to risk her safety just because he was addicted to her. And he couldn't afford a close relationship right then; they’d find out and take her too.

  Besides, how could anyone accept a murderer?

  Even if he was forced, he still killed people. No way he could be with her and pretend to be normal. Pretend nothing happened when he came home splattered with blood. The thought of coming home and seeing her made a terrifying soup of panic and longing in his gut.

  He ducked into a deep doorway and watched her break apart from the shadows.

  But, worst of all, the fact she had to think he was walking away from her now, after everything she just went through, was killing him. Her tears were like tiny wet daggers in his heart.

  And he hated himself. Again.

  Scarlet

  She stood on the dim section of sidewalk, staring after his ever-shrinking figure, immobile from disbelief.

  “What the hell just happened . . .” she muttered to the empty street.

  Well, she sure knew what hadn’t just happened. Irritation quickly replaced bewilderment, and she yelled out, making sure he'd hear her.

  “Nick, you're such a . . .a . . .COWARD!”

  She thought he stopped and turned around, but it was so dark where he stood, she couldn't be sure. She put her fingertips to her forehead and battled the tears threatening to break free, then sniffled and grabbed her phone.

  What was his problem!?

  She jammed her fingers against the screen and sent a text flying to Katelyn.
Then she dropped down on the curb.

  Everything poured out in her tear drops. Leftover fear. Leftover adrenaline. Heartache. Anxiety. Rage. Loneliness. Pain. Longing. She whimpered and rubbed her temples.

  Why did he keep leaving her? If she didn't know better, she'd think he was just not interested. And if that were the case she'd be fine with it and let it go. But she could tell for a fact he wanted her. A very obvious, large fact. Probably as much as she wanted him. So why did he keep running? She wiped her nose and glared at the twinkling sky.

  Maybe she was misreading all his signals after all . . .Maybe he was just getting caught up in the moment and wouldn't have otherwise. But he took care of her leg! He didn't have to do that! She stuttered a breath.

  And the way he took Steven down was the hottest thing she'd ever seen. It was so protective.

  He was so upset, which also confused her. If he didn't care, why would he have even bothered? Other than it was the right thing to do. Maybe that’s all it’d ever been. She let out a quiet, frustrated scream and crossed her arms.

  Well, whatever the reason, he just didn't want to be around her. So, she wouldn't bother him. It would hurt too much anyway, watching his face grow dark just from seeing her. She sniffled again and waited for Katelyn’s car. Alone.

  Her throat ached. Her shoulder ached. Her knee ached. Her jaw ached. But none of them ached as badly as her stupid, rejected heart.

  Seven minutes later, Katelyn’s classic, baby blue BMW convertible swerved to a stop directly in front of Scarlet.

  “Oh my God! Sweetie, what happened!?”

  Out Katelyn hopped in all her spectacular, endlessly flawless glory. Scarlet huffed, thinking about her own smeared mascara.

  “Come on, let's get you up.” Katelyn helped Scarlet up from the curb and hugged her tight. “I've been worried sick! I think John's phone overheated from me asking him when I should come find you. Why weren't you answering your texts?!”

  Because the stupid phone was on vibrate. And she didn’t want to when she was with Nick. But she didn't say that. Both from her throat hurting and from just not wanting to talk about it. Katelyn led her to the car and waited while she got in, then scooted around and climbed in, locking the doors.

  “Scarlet! Talk to me! What happened?!”

  Scarlet shook her head and put her hand to her mouth.

  “Your house.”

  Katelyn nodded and drove.

  “Okay. You can tell me there. God. What the hell happened to your knee? Are you sure you don't need to go to a hospital?”

  That was it. She couldn't hold in any more tears. She was surprised she had a single one left, but there they were, falling again.

  “Oh honey, it's okay. Just hold tight, we'll be to the house soon. I'm here okay? You're not alone. I've got some Pralines and Pecans ice cream hidden in the chest freezer, so we'll get fat tonight.”

  Despite everything, Scarlet laughed through her sobs and shook her head.

  “Yeah, you say that now. Wait until you're holding the spoon. It's the premium kind.” She reached over and gently rubbed Scarlet's arm. “And I'm wearing my ice-cream pants, so no isn't an option.”

  Scarlet wiped her eyes and frowned.

  Something was wrong, then. Those pants were reserved specifically for the lowest of the low moments. They each had a pair. In fact, Scarlet bet every woman had a pair. She scanned Katelyn's face. All her makeup was still enviably perfect; no running mascara or raw cheeks, so that was a good sign at least. Maybe she was just overthinking it.

  They drove up the massive driveway, and Katelyn practically leaped around the car to help her out. Scarlet was so heartbroken she didn't fight the help. She just wanted to crawl under a rock and sleep for a hundred years. John was at another event apparently, so they had the large house to themselves.

  It seemed dark and foreboding today. She wrapped her arms around herself and walked straight to the couch where she kicked off her shoes and curled into a ball. Then she grimaced and straightened out her stupid leg. Then readjusted to take pressure off her stupid shoulder. Then let out a quiet, frustrated scream.

  Katelyn came in behind her and dug around the little hall closet, grumbling about organizing it one day. She let out a satisfied “ha!” and bumped the door closed with her hip, stumbling a step to the side.

  A leopard print, fleece blanket flopped down over Scarlet and Katlyn gave her neck a tight squeeze before rounding the arm of the sofa and plopping clumsily beside her. Scarlet let out a small laugh and pulled the blanket higher. Katelyn put a hand on her shoulder.

  “What happened? Did Steven do this?!”

  All Scarlet could manage was a weak nod as she rested her head on the back of the couch. Katelyn fumed and bolted up from her seat.

  “Scarlet! We need to go to the police immediately! Why haven’t you already called them?!”

  Scarlet cleared her throat and drew up one shoulder.

  “Because he didn't—directly—cause the damage on my knee. That happened when I fell. From the wall. He had me pinned against.”

  Katelyn dropped down to the couch and went white as a sheet.

  “Oh, my shit Scarlet, did he rape you?!”

  Scarlet fought more tears but shook her head. “Tried to.”

  Katelyn hovered between standing and sitting, shaking her hands and clenching her fists.

  “Oh my God.”

  Katelyn sat practically on top of her and crushed her in a hug before softening the grip and muttering “Sorry!” She held her stomach, paling. Scarlet swallowed and tilted her head, showing her jaw.

  “He bit me too.”

  Katelyn squinted and leaned closer.

  “Where?”

  Scarlet frowned and pointed. Nick had noticed, so she thought it was bigger.

  “Oh, I see it . . . barely. So, we can still tell the cops, right? You clearly have marks on you. They'd do an investigation at the very . . . least.”

  She trailed off, Scarlet's apologetic look apparently working.

  “No one else was with us. There'd be no way to prove I wasn't attacked by someone else. My word against his. And with the way he and the bar folks were buddy-buddy means they'll for sure cover for whatever his story is.”

  No, Nick was there. But she didn't want to tell Katelyn that. Plus, she wasn't sure he'd even be willing to talk to the police. And it's not like she had his number. She could go to the hardware store, but there was no guarantee he'd be there. Plus, again, she was certain Steven's buddies would try to pin it on Nick. There was nothing she could do.

  She held her breath and pulled the blanket in tighter still, the neon pink fringe on the edge brushing against her cheek. Katelyn sat beside her with her arms and legs crossed, wiping tears as they fell. She leaned over and laid her head on Scarlet's arm.

  “Scarlet, I'm so. SO. Sorry.”

  They shared a few more tears before Katelyn sat bolt upright.

  “Wait, so what happened? Why didn't he go through with it? And where'd you even get the bandages?”

  Something in Scarlet's withering expression must have given her away because Katelyn's eyes narrowed in suspicion. "You're lying. Someone else was there. Who?!"

  No sense hiding it now. She swiped her cheek. “Nick.”

  Katelyn straightened her spine and threw her eyebrows up.

  “The Nick?”

  Scarlet nodded and sniffled. Katelyn glitched. She fluttered back and forth like a skipping video, like she couldn't figure out what to do with her hands and eventually put them to her face.

  “Scarlet! What are the chances of that? That's bananas! He’s saved your life twice! That's some serious, serious juju at work there. Especially since the rescues were on different sides of town even!”

  She let her hands fall, and a small smile tugged at her mouth.

  “So. He saved you. Again. Then fixed your leg.”

  She twisted in her seat to fully face Scarlet, wh
o raised her eyebrows.

  She whispered excitedly. “Was it awesome? Did he kick his ass? I bet he did. I don't know why I'm whispering, but we're going to go with it.”

  Scarlet laughed and then clutched the blanket over her heart.

  “Yeah. He was pretty badass for sure. He was incredibly upset for some reason. Told Steven not to even think about me or look at me among lots of other things. Jammed a gun to his forehead, stepped on his throat, kicked him. Whole nine.”

  Katelyn's smile widened. “Oh.”

  Scarlet frowned. “'Oh'? What 'Oh'?”

  “He likes you. Likes you, likes you.” She waggled her groomed, perfectly arched eyebrows and Scarlet scoffed.

  Yeah, no. Not true. Not based on what happened. Sure, there was the kiss, but it had been heat of the moment, adrenaline fueled. Obviously. Scarlet shook her head but had to fight more stupid tears. Katelyn copped a confused expression and then frowned.

  “What? Did something happen with him too? Wait, a gun? Thank God for that, huh?”

  Scarlet nodded then breathed in.

  “We . . . kissed.”

  Katelyn stood up straight and slapped her hands to her cheeks, mouth dropping open. Then she sat back down again grinning like a fool before relaxing her expression again when she saw Scarlet's tormented face.

  “So? Was it horrible or something? Why are you so glum about it? Tell me he doesn't have weird teeth.”

  “No, it was fucking fantastic actually, like a wet dream.” Scarlet couldn't help her one-sided grin. “His mouth was so soft, and it was so hot. And no, no weird teeth. He just . . .” Her smile dropped, and she groaned. “Keeps leaving me. He acts like being around me hurts. Keeps pulling away, so obviously, he's not really interested.”

  Katelyn hummed in thought. “What kind of kiss? Just a peck on the lips? Or,” she squeezed the air with her hands.

  Scarlet burst out laughing and buried her face in her elbows as she nodded.

  Katelyn laughed. “I don't know hon, sounds like he's pretty damn interested to me. Whatever his deal may be, he wants you.”

  Scarlet groaned and leaned her head back against the couch, dropping her arms in defeat.