Drowning (Tears of Sin Series) (15 page)

He groans, dropping his hands to cover the distinct shape of his wood beneath his zipper. “I’m a little drunk here.”
He’s given me the opportunity to take this back to a lighter place, and hopefully, it will keep him here. With me. “I won’t take advantage of you.” It’s just the right thing to say to put a smile on both our faces.
“Woman, you kill me.” He frames my cheeks with his palms. Flutters swirl in my chest, and if I lift up on my toes, I might be able to capture his lips with mine. “You are going to have to come clean about everything.”
I shake my head and kiss his neck instead. “I want to tell you everything, but I don’t have the words.” I push him to the toilet, ignoring his grunt of reluctance. “Just stay, please.” He drops his head, and I gather my courage. It’s down there in the pit of my stomach. It has never failed me, but letting him have this…letting him know me—see me—it’s making me yellow with fear and self-recriminations. I rub my sweating palms down the length of my skirt. “Just watch, okay?”
He nods his head, those blue eyes catching mine. I grab the hem of my shirt. His eyes shift to my hands and back to my eyes, valiantly trying to hold contact while I peel off the tight blouse. I watch his eyes while I unfasten my bra, and he gets the first glimpse of the damage done to my body.
My chest is heaving, lifting my breasts with each ragged gasp. His eyes widen. His gasp makes my nipples tighten, but I don’t think he means it as an act of lust. For me, I’m aroused by the freedom of having the secrets out. Someone finally knows and believes me.
There’s a wrinkle developing over his left brow, and he inhales. “Fuck.” He grabs my waist and tugs me closer.
Warm tears slip from my eyes. I've never wanted to be pretty for a man, but for this one, I at least wanted to be whole, and I’m not. He runs a finger over the deep scar that tracks from the middle of my breasts down to my navel. I'd been sliced deep enough to scar, but not to separate the deep tissue beneath the top layer of skin. My back bone curls, seeking to escape his touch, but his hand at my hip holds me firm.
“Alice?” His fingers grip me tighter, and he places a soft kiss in the middle of the scar. “What happened?”
“I was once the victim of a sadist's lust. I-I was his gr-greatest masterpiece.” My nerves are catching up with me.
Seth tips his head back. There are tears in his eyes. “Your father.”
I trace his cheek bone with my index finger, waiting for that crystal to fall. I want to touch it. I want to know what it feels like to have someone cry over me.
“Why didn't anyone help you?”
“It was better to let the little bastard take it than anyone else. I didn't mind so much if it kept him away from Molly. She isn't strong enough for this.” I wave my hands down my chest.
I loosen my button on my skirt, and it drops onto the floor, leaving me in lace black panties. He hisses, but I don't think it's because of my lack of clothes. He's taking in each scar, gaze roaming over my torso and the top of my thighs. Each wound on my soul. I step back, just enough to bend and drop my panties within the confines of his hands on my hips, anxious to have him see all of me, but not willing to sever the connection. For the first time, I notice the hint of lust blossom on his cheeks. That one heated gaze does more for my heart than a million
I’m sorries
.
He's breathing harder, and his hands drop from my sides. He locks his fingers together and drops his head back. “Alice, get into the shower.” He closes his eyes, breaking our connection. “I want you so fucking bad it hurts. Please hurry.” I smile at him. He can't know how happy his words make me.
I lean forward, my breasts raking across his shirt, and wrap my arms around his neck. “I want you too.” No. I didn't just say that. But still the words are true. I want this beautiful man to make me forget every slice of the blade. I want him to teach me that sex and love can coexist. I want to know what it feels like to be a woman.
“I can't.” He stands and jerks away. My face falls, and I can feel my confidence sliding with my frown. “Don’t look at me like that. Alice, you just came here terribly upset. I would be taking advantage of you.”
“You're drunk. It would be the same for me.” I want this now. He’s seen me. He’s not disgusted by me. I can be me with him. He’ll know all of me in a way no one else ever has.
“I can't. I'm not... I can't.” He turns his back to me and grabs the sink. Our eyes lock in the mirror above him. “Please. Not tonight. Soon. Just, let's get past this.”
I'd never expected to hear a guy tell me no. I'd been really good at the tease and run, but when it was on the other side, I was lost. “You don't have to explain. I get it.” I step under the shower, beneath the warm water beating down. I’m mid shampooing my hair when he steps in with me. Naked. Tense. And at glorious attention. Corded muscles rope down from his neck to his shoulders. Large pectorals slope and tuck into ripped abdominal knots that lead to a trail of hair that wraps round the base of erection. My eyes widen at the clear drop of fluid beaded at the head, and his penis jerks.
His fingers lace with mine in my hair, and I drop my hands. He soaps and scrubs, massaging away my anxiety. My stare travels and explores every wet slope, hard curve, and firm ridge of muscle down to the thick declaration of his need. He’s bigger than any of the guys I’ve seen before, but not obscenely hung like some animal in heat. Fire spreads to my cheeks, and I glance back up.
His steady gaze is waiting for the connection. “No one should have had to endure what you have.”
He tugs on my hair, and I tip back, allowing the warm water to rinse away my suds. I don't tremble at his touch. It feels too good to shake it away. I reach up on tip-toe, steadying myself by grabbing his shoulders, and kiss him. He takes control and groans into my mouth. His erection jumps, hitting my bare mound, but it doesn't scare me. I want this. With him. Only him. His lips leave mine, and he chases the water dripping down my cheek, over my chin, and down the front of my neck. Everything inside me clenches tight. His lips, teeth, tongue all incite my skin to tingle and my legs to lock together. I want to rub against him like kittens with their mothers. I want to purr for him.
He kneels and kisses the top of my stomach, skipping my aching and swollen breasts. I want the gentle nip of his mouth there.
His tongue slides down the scar that splits me into two halves. He finds another just above my hip bone and sucks the raised ridge into his mouth. I reach beneath his chin and tug his mouth toward my breasts.
“You are so brave.” His words are gravelly and sincere.
I lurch forward, hunched over his face, begging with my eyes, my arms, and my body. “I want you.”
He smiles. “I'm not making love to you tonight. But I will take care of you. Do you trust me?”
I want this. Why is he being difficult? “I want you.”
“You're like a broken record. And until I know more, and you really trust me, we're only going to have this.”
The teaser has become the teased. His lips find the hard knot of my right breast, and he nibbles, softly raking his teeth across the nub. I can’t remember anything other than the warm slide of his tongue across the tip.
I clench my fingers into the back of his hair. “Oh.”
“Yeah, baby.” He stops and blows across the wet peak. “Does it feel good?”
“I've never... Don't stop.”
He switches sides, and my legs collapse, but he catches me. I slide to the floor of the shower, and he cradles me in his lap. I inch closer to the thick meat under my thigh, only inches away from the crying center of my agony. He tips his hips down lower, just out of reach. I glance up just in time to see him shake his head. A tick beats along his jaw line and it looks like he’s gnashing his teeth. “When I make love to you, you'll remember it as the best experience of your life.” He grips my hair, holding my face inches from his. “I won't have shadows crowding in. I won't have thoughts of that bastard in your head.”
I want him to fuck away all the doubts in my mind, but I want him to do it now. It’s not fair that the one time I’m ready to go further, I hook up with the one man who's not afraid to tell me no. So, I need to flip this somehow. Put a little Harrison spin on things.
“Okay.”
His hand stills on my back. “Okay?”
“I'm glad you are making me wait. The tease will be so much fun.” I trace my hand down his firm pecs, scape my nail over his small nipple, and spider crawl my fingers over all the muscles indenting his stomach. Water races my hand down his chest. A groan breaks the humidity around us. When I reach his waist, he catches my wrist and laughs.
I pout up at him. “You’re no fun.”
He pulls my head to his chest and kisses my hairline. “You are trouble, but I can't stay away.” He lifts me to a standing position and follows. He lathers a rag and quickly scrubs away most of the desire still racing through my body. I try to brush my hands over his stomach and lower, but he effectively stops me with quick kisses and by locking our fingers. “Come on. Let's get some sleep. We'll figure out what to do about your dad tomorrow.”
I nod and allow him to dry me and slip his robe around my shoulders. I’m again hit with that sage/mint scent that lingers on everything of his, and I tug the cloth tighter around me. We leave my wet clothes draped around the bathroom, and I follow him to his king-size bed. It’s without a headboard or footboard and utilitarian describes his deco best. There’s a desk with sheet music scattered across the surface, a small chair half pushed in, and a bookshelf with an array of horror novels.
He kicks a pair of boots out of the way and clears the rumpled shirts and pants off the mattress. “Sorry. I'm not as good at keeping my room clean.”
“I won't tell your secrets.” The fact that he’s not completely put together in here makes me smile.
He gulps a little too hard and pulls the plain white covers back. “In you go.”
I slide in, all the way across to the far corner of the bed. The mattress sinks when he crawls in beside me. I turn to him, about to tell him that I’m sorry for ruining his evening, but he puts a hand over my mouth. “Not tonight. Sleep.” He flips me over and pulls me to his chest.
“But—”
He cups his hand across my mouth. “No more. Please.”
I smile against his palm and lick his flesh. The hiss behind me lightens my mood a degree. I may not get to have him tonight, but at least he will ache as bad as me now.
Seth slips off into a sound slumber long before I’m able to. It’s been an eventful day with crazy new highs. I never thought that telling someone and having them believe me would feel this good. I feel right for the first time in my life. Whole. And wanted. It’s a good feeling. Seth clutches me closer and I finally feel the first stirring of sleep weighting my lashes down.
I wake early and crawl over Seth without waking him. The liquor from last night has finally taken hold, and his light snore says he is sleeping the sleep of the dead. I hurry to my clothes and grab my things before sneaking out of his room. I want to do something for him, something to thank him and to make him understand what he’s doing to my insides.
I hurry back to my place and grab a bottle of black nail polish, my favorite sketch of him, and a charcoal pencil. A plan is taking shape in my mind, and he’ll either love it or hate it. Either way, he’ll understand.
His front door is still open from my dash across the hall. Seth’s light snores make me giggle, but I follow the sound through the apartment. I kneel on the bed and take his calloused palm in mine. He doesn’t even stir. The black lacquer glides on in smooth brushes. He flinches when I stroke his pinky. It takes me twice as long to do the other side after I creep-crawl over him, mostly because I’m giggling so damn bad. I take my sketch and quickly add a pair of folded hands with black nails to the back. Beneath the picture, I write: In darkness, there is hope. In light, there is truth. You’ve captured me somewhere in between and made it safe.
I place the drawing on the pillow beside him and scurry from the bed. I lean low and kiss him on the forehead before slipping out of the room. It isn't nice to skip out like this, but I don't know how to handle morning-afters—even though technically we haven’t had sex. I’ve never had one.
I lock Seth’s door and pull it closed behind me. Our door is closed, but I’m sure I’d left it open. I listen against the wood, hoping for a sign at who might be inside, but only the low drone of the television filters through. I push the door open and peek inside.
Molly is on the sofa flipping through the radio channels. She glances in my direction. “Alice?”
“Hey. What are you doing here? I thought I was off limits.” It’s too coincidental that after Harrison’s failed attempt to kidnap me again my sister suddenly finds freedom.
She waves her hand through the air like she’d only been gone for a stroll. “Mom went to the spa, so I had David bring me by.” David is the Harrison women’s personal driver.
Thank goodness, I hate worrying about every person’s intent. “Oh.”
She pats the seat next to her and scoots over for me. “Come here.”
I sink down beside her. She wraps her arm around me, and I can’t recall a warmer welcome. Well, except for maybe with Seth. “I was so worried about you.”
“I'm better.” I wrap my fingers around the arm she has draped over my chest and squeeze. “You were right about going crazy if I held everything in.” I really needed to learn how to hold my shit together if I am going to continue living here with her. Row would have me committed if there was ever a chance I’d hurt Molly. “I'm going to clean the studio up this afternoon.”
She clucks her tongue at me like my third-grade, school teacher when I’d said something about my dad leaving a mark on my leg. “Alice, I was worried because you aren't well. You need to talk to someone.” She fidgets with the edge of her blouse. “Uh, I know a therapist. I've been seeing him for handling my coping. I think you should talk to him.”
Therapy is lame and all they want to do is rehash the hell I’d lived in all my life. “I don't need therapy. I need for one E. Harrison to stay the hell away from me.”
Molly flinches at the anger in my voice, but doesn’t say anything in response. She’s frowning like I’m the biggest disappointment of her life. Or maybe that’s just my take on her expression. I don’t know. I’m tired and raw and I just want a change of clothes and my bed.
Instead, I nudge her. “Besides, it’s not been that bad since my last meltdown.” “Mom won't let me come home until you get therapy.”