by Kali Anthony
More... Just...take me.
She’d come twice and there had been no doubts in his mind she’d wanted him inside her, the passion overwhelming them both. Still, something was wrong, and he wasn’t standing outside this room until he found out what it was. He knocked again, harder this time.
‘Eve...’ Damn, what was she doing? He felt like an utter fool, impotent with the inability to do anything other than ask for her attention yet again. He listened. Heard muffled sounds that he couldn’t identify... Was she crying?
‘Open up... Eve... Eve!’
He pounded on the door like a lovesick fool and hated himself even more for it, but he couldn’t stop. Finally, the lock clicked and the door opened.
She’d changed her top to something black and body hugging. Tidied herself, with her hair now tamed and neat rather than spilling over her shoulders, perfect to grip. Presenting as cold and aloof as the day he’d called her, and she told him in no uncertain terms there was no them anymore.
‘Stop that, sugar,’ Eve drawled.
He hated that damned name. She only ever used it when she was trying to needle him and it worked the same now as it always had. But past that icy shell he could see the cracks that blurred and softened her. Mascara had smudged under her eyes, making them smoky. Her cheeks bloomed with a healthy, beautiful blush. Maybe not so icy and unaffected, then.
‘We need to talk,’ he said.
Her eyes widened a tiny fraction as a look passed through them. Something like fear. She swallowed, but her mouth held a tight, brutal line. Then she sighed theatrically and waved him away like an annoying child. ‘I don’t suffer from anything inconveniently contagious, and I’m on contraception. Unless you have something to add, there’s nothing to discuss.’
Maybe he should have walked away. He didn’t chase women, not anymore. He’d had a taste of humiliation at her hand once, and it was never happening to him again. And he would have walked had he not been certain he’d hurt her somehow. Asking the question was self-protection. He wasn’t having any more rumours spread about him, not from her quarter at least.
‘I’m clean too. There’s no need to worry.’ It was laughable how long it had been since he’d last had sex. He’d been so absorbed with his pursuit of Knight Enterprises he hadn’t had time. Or that’s what he’d told himself. The sad reality was that when he’d become focussed on Eve again, any other woman had ceased to exist. She’d become his sole obsession. The thought of touching anyone else left him cold, which had only added to his frustration and fuelled his desire to exact the retribution he’d sought for seven long years.
‘We still need to talk. And I’m not having this discussion in the hall.’
He wasn’t sure why it all seemed so hollow at this moment, but he wasn’t letting the conversation go.
Eve stood back, held out an arm as if welcoming him in, but the hand holding the door gripped tightly enough he could see her fingers blanch white. He walked inside, looked around the space, focussed on the huge bed with soft cushions and creamy plush covers that loomed large in the room. How he wanted to carry her there and strip her cool façade layer by layer till she ignited again.
‘It was sex, Gage.’
The way she’d said that word, spitting it out at him like they’d done something wrong.
There had been nothing wrong with what they’d done. On the contrary, it was the rightness of it that had shocked him the most. How natural it had felt, as if they’d never been apart.
‘And if you need your ego appeased,’ she added, ‘an itch pleasantly scratched.’
‘I’d say you found it more than pleasant. Since it took around two seconds of our kissing for me to have you on the table and coming, twice. That’s reason enough for my ego to be doing fine.’
‘It’s been a while. And I didn’t realise we were keeping score. Are you going to claim I owe you one now?’
He had been accused of many things in his time, but he never held expectations of a woman where sex was concerned. For him, giving pleasure was as heady as receiving it. While she owed him many things, the roil of anger began tightening in his gut at the suggestion she owed him that.
‘Don’t be ridiculous.’
She shrugged. ‘Remember, I kissed you. And while it might have been my ass bare on the table, that one kiss proved I could have you right where I wanted you... Again.’
Her words hit him like a punch in the gut. At the time it had felt all mutual, but had she simply been using him, like last time? The burn inside turned molten, a furnace of rage that transported him back in time, welling and threatening to spill over. His jaw tightened hard enough to crack teeth. He’d let it damn well happen again and he loathed himself for it. He glared at her, standing there triumphant. So damned aloof. How could he have been fooled? She’d not always been cold like this. She’d once been a young woman full to the brim with emotion, or so he’d thought. Except...
He took a breath through that surge of fury and as he did so realised that she wouldn’t look him in the eyes right now. If she didn’t care, she’d be looking at him straight on and not somewhere in the middle of his chest where she seemed to have developed a fixation with his shirt buttons. So instead of listening to what she said, he focussed on how she’d acted instead.
The flush over her skin, her pleas for more, harder. Leaning against his chest, accepting his arms around her as they’d taken a moment and come down from the cataclysm that had been the intimacy between them. Screaming out his name and then pushing him away hard and running like the devil himself was chasing her. Locking the door. He hesitated.
She’s scared.
Of him...
No. It wasn’t him. It was something else and he’d find out what it was if it killed him. He could taunt her like he’d always done as a child, when something had terrified her. She never backed off from a dare but now he began to suspect her lashing out with claws unsheathed was something else. Her trying to force his distance. Right now he enjoyed her claws a little too much because they were both spoiling for a fight. He could give it to her, because making up could be a thrill all of its own. Except he didn’t want to fight with her, but for her, and he knew the ways he could play dirty and win.
What had always had her melting like butter on a summer’s day had not been playing rough—though they’d done their fair share of that and it had been fun—it had been the gentle, tender moments. So she was angling for a fight right now. He wouldn’t give it to her because it was easy to fight when he bit at the hook she cast for him, the one that fed the anger he carried. He’d just have to play smarter, not harder.
‘I’m sorry I didn’t think about contraception. It was irresponsible and wrong. If you don’t trust me, I can get tested again, for your peace of mind.’
Her eyes widened a fraction.
‘No, I trust you.’ Her whole body softened, wilted like something had come loose. Like he might be winning this game, with the rules he didn’t understand. Then it was as if she’d reminded herself she wasn’t allowed to be vulnerable anymore, and everything in her hardened again. ‘But you are a man after all. Led around by one thing. It’s always the same.’
He took the barb, absorbed the sharp stab of it. Ignored the twist of possessiveness like razor wire wrapping round him, at the thought of any other man with her. He had no rights here, none at all. But being around her flung him into a kind of insanity that made him a fool.
‘Cutting me down to size?’
She held her head high and proud. ‘It was easy to do. You’re soft wood.’
He laughed, because now he knew she was lying. She dangled that damn bait so enticingly, but he wouldn’t take it.
‘Yet only minutes ago you were ecstatic with how hard I was. I wasn’t hearing your complaints, only your screams.’
Eve glanced at the bed, at him, then back at the bed. Took a small ste
p away from it like if he was too close to her, she’d tumble him onto the mattress. He was enthusiastic about that idea. It was right where he wanted her, eventually. There he’d get more truth than any conversation they were having right now. Something was going on here and he’d find out what it was sooner or later.
‘Eve. Enough of this. Let’s agree you’re an expert at hurting me. Thing is, I’m worried I might have hurt you.’ He’d lowered his voice, tried for something more conciliatory. ‘I’m sorry about that too.’
She turned away towards the windows, reached to her face and swiped her fingers across her cheeks. Was she crying? He took a step forward, wanting nothing more than to reach for her. Her tears had always broken him, and that sensation of needing to comfort was an overwhelming thing that had his fingers itching to take her into his arms and soothe away whatever pained her.
She gave a sharp, shaky kind of laugh. Wrapped her arms round herself as if holding something in. ‘I... It didn’t hurt. As I said, it’s been a while.’
It would have to have been a hell of a long while for it to surprise her, hurt her, or whatever she’d experienced. He had no rights to her. She was an adult woman who’d left him long ago, but masochist that he was, he needed to know or it would niggle like a splinter under his skin.
‘How long?’
‘Long enough.’ She shook her head, looked at him with her pale and haunted eyes. ‘Not that it’s any of your business.’
Eve looked at her bed again, yet with so much yearning this time it almost cut him off at the knees. A pulse began beating, seductive and low, that primal drive he knew too well, one that he accepted now that he’d probably always have around her. He was half-hard again, and she’d be able to see that. Earlier he might not have wanted to give her that power over him, but he didn’t care anymore.
‘I could guess.’
‘And in the unlikely event you were right, would you expect a prize?’
A slow smile slid across his face. ‘I’m thinking a better idea is something where we both win.’ Part of him was secretly pleased he still knew the ways to make her come apart at the seams.
‘I refuse to play these childish games. It’s a mistake to mix business with pleasure and, anyhow, I can get pleasure anywhere.’
‘You can’t get it while you wear my ring on your finger. Anyhow, you don’t want it anywhere, you want it from me.’
She tugged the gleaming sapphire from her hand. He gritted his teeth as she walked to a feminine-looking dressing table and gently placed it on the pale wood.
‘Every man thinks they’re special. You’re not. Please leave, I have things to do.’
He needed to go. She wasn’t giving up her quest for an argument, and he still wasn’t in control enough not to risk uttering hurtful things that couldn’t be unsaid. In his darker moments when he’d thought back to that night she’d cast him aside, he’d imagined her gloating at the pain she’d caused. She didn’t look like she was gloating now. Her face was pale, her eyes tight as she chewed on her lower lip. At this moment Eve did not look like a woman who enjoyed hurting him. She looked like the young woman he’d thought he’d known and had believed he’d spend his whole life with. One who’d been kind, protective of her mom and sister. Loving.
‘Then I’ll leave you to wrestle with your feelings for me,’ he said, and walked from the room. What had happened to her between the time he’d left with only their kisses under the sound of the rain as memories, and the day she’d ended it all?
Hugo Chevalier had happened, and Gage was determined to find out what that man had done. There were any number of ways he could go about getting that information but she’d tell him in the end because he had a weapon she couldn’t fight.
She still wanted him.
CHAPTER SIX
EVE SNATCHED UP her evening bag and headed for the door of her room then stopped, looking around. There was a needling sensation, like her world was not quite right. Like she’d forgotten something. She turned and her gaze lingered on the dressing-table, where her engagement ring glittered in the low lights.
She looked down at her left hand and the sense that something was missing increased. Eve turned back, tossing her clutch onto the bed as she passed. Grabbing the ring, she slid the extravagant cluster of gemstones onto her finger. They lay cool against her skin, easing the burn of her overheated flesh.
Eve tried not to think about how comforting the weight of the engagement ring was whenever she wore it. She hadn’t realised properly how any of this would be, having believed she could cope with her feelings. Sadly, she’d underestimated how crushing unrequited desire could really be. How the cruel words she’d forced herself to say would chip away at her soul and blacken it for ever.
It had been one thing as a desperate, besotted twenty-year-old. When her father had found her in that rundown hotel, she’d been fuelled by fear and exhaustion, and in the horrible weeks that had followed she’d agreed to anything to protect Gage, her choices horrible yet clear. She’d also had the advantage of not seeing him. That distance had made the terrible choices seem easier. No one had witnessed her weeping into her pillow every night.
Soon she’d been a continent away from him after their last, terrible call when she’d destroyed his love for her and succeeded in turning it into blind hatred. But nothing had prepared her for the wearying exhaustion of the act she continued to play.
Eve smoothed her hands over her blue dress, perfect for travel because it was soft and body-hugging and had once made her feel beautiful. It also now made her feel exposed, the fabric the same vibrant colour as Gage’s eyes, matching her engagement ring to perfection. It clung to her body and reminded her with each movement she made of Gage’s hands softly stroking her.
She tried to ignore that sensation as she walked from her room down the stairs to travel to dinner with Greta Bonitz, blinking back the threatening tears. Kissing Gage, touching him. Making love, because it had been far more than sex. They had all been a critical error. Once their lips had touched it had been like her body had come home. The soul-deep sigh of relief.
But now she was left with lonely nights in a bed in a house where he lay just down the hall, because as much as her body wanted him again and again, she couldn’t let him have her. That realisation crippled her. If she let him touch her again, she might never let him go, and where would that leave them?
He wanted her, that was clear. They still burned brightly when they were together. While she had nothing to compare it with, their bodies didn’t lie like their minds did. They knew how to work together in perfect synchronicity. She shivered. Closed her eyes and let herself indulge in the guilty pleasure of recalling the feel of him inside her again. A flood of warmth washed over her.
And now she was simply avoiding him. She took a deep breath to steel herself and walked down the hall to the lounge. Gage waited there, staring out the doors that showcased the view of her fields of flowers. Night had fallen now and everything was in darkness, but the breeze still blew in perfumes of roses and lavender. He had his hands in his pockets, coat slung over the arms of a chair. His shoulders were broad and strong. Once they’d carried so many of her burdens. Now she only had herself. She let herself indulge in the look of him, surveying the darkness outside as though overseeing his domain.
‘The car will be here soon.’
She didn’t know how he knew she was there but, then, she’d always known when he’d walked into a room so perhaps he had the same sixth sense about her too. It comforted her and distressed her all the same, with the what-ifs. What if she’d ignored her father’s threats? What if she’d still run back to Gage? Would they still be together? Would their baby...?
No. There was no use to these thoughts. She’d punished herself enough for the last one. She didn’t need any more.
He was such a beautiful, masculine picture framed in the doorway, glowing in the low ligh
ts of the room. The golden boy indeed. Gage turned and raised a tumbler a quarter full of golden liquid.
‘Drink?’
Not unless it was straight bourbon. That might be the only thing that would get her through this. But she needed her wits about her, especially tonight when everything felt so ragged and raw. ‘No, I prefer not to drink before an important business deal. The celebration can come afterwards.’
‘Looking forward to getting rid of me that quickly?’
The smirk on his face told her exactly what he thought she might say, and exactly what her answer really would be if she told the truth. And that was a worry in and of itself.
‘You know we both want to move on, sugar.’
The corners of his beautiful mouth curled in a sensual smile.
‘So certain of that, are you?’
His voice was as gentle as the warm breeze floating into the room, but it packed the power of a punch. Did he want her, still? The slide of his gaze over her body gave her the answer, but she wouldn’t admit it.
‘I’m certain of what I want.’
‘Hmm.’ He didn’t press further, merely sipped his own drink, the ice clinking in the glass, and watched her. Blue eyes were supposed to be cold, icy, but his burned hot and ignited her. If she didn’t know it was impossible, she might worry about self-combusting right here in the middle of the room.
‘You look beautiful,’ he said, and strolled towards her, moving in close. He placed his half-finished drink on a side table then reached out his hand and hesitated. She didn’t move away, and he seemed to take that as a kind of permission. He gently grasped one of her blonde curls between his fingers. ‘I love your hair like this.’
His voice had a kind of wistful, contemplative tone to it. She couldn’t deal with that. His anger, his dislike—they were easy things to accept. Not this quiet man, the one who reminded her of the twenty-three-year-old she’d run away with.