Hard Curves (Dangerous Curves Book 2) (19 page)

Chapter Seventeen
Three weeks later

Aidan slid the beer across the bar to King without a word, then he waited. He knew King was there to talk and Aidan wasn’t about to push. Carefully, he observed King, taking him in. He hadn’t been around too much lately, and Aidan had started to worry, maybe just a little bit.

King was here now, though, just walking on in to the bar at four o’clock on a Wednesday afternoon like that was his normal thing. He looked uncertain and unbalanced, like he’d been hit over the head with something heavy. Then again, he had been…not literally, of course, but
man
. Aidan knew damn good and well that love can deliver one hell of a wallop when it wants to.

So here King was, shifting around on his feet like a high school boy standing next to his locker and asking his crush to the prom. Aidan crossed his arms loosely, waited some more. But as the seconds ticked on by, he realized that King didn’t have the first fucking clue what to say, how to put in to words what he really wanted to ask. That was when Aidan took pity on the man.

“I’ve talked to her,” Aidan said now. “Seen her.”

King’s head shot up. “When?”

“A week ago. She called me, we met for coffee.”

“You didn’t tell me?”

“Nope.”

“She asked you not to?”

“No, she didn’t. I was just waiting for you to ask.”

King blinked. “But I
didn’t
ask.”

“Oh, hell, man. Yes, you did.”

King grinned. “Yeah, I guess I did.” He paused. “How is she? How did she look?”

“She looked…” Aidan stopped and tried to think of the best word to describe Naomi. “Clear.”

“Clear?”

“Yeah. Clear. Calm like water, but strong like a diamond. Shining, almost.”

“That’s good.” Inadequate word, King knew, but he lamely offered it up anyway.

“It is.” Aidan leaned forward. “And you? How are you doing?”

“Good.” Yeah, he’d go with that adjective again, even though it was a bald-faced lie. He was
not
good; nothing much was good, in actual fact.

Bringing Callie and Noah to the Heart Center a few times a week was torture by a thousand paper cuts. He’d drop them off, go no farther than the parking lot, watch them walk in hand-in-hand. Knowing that the woman he loved was
right there
, just behind those goddamn doors, was making him crazy.

Sometimes he just sat in his SUV and stared at the door, physically restraining himself from going in to find her. To talk to her, reason with her, plead with her. But he’d made her a promise and that promise was bigger and stronger than even his want. Keeping it was hurting him, though, hurting him badly…and Aidan knew it.

“Bullshit. You are
not
good and you sure as hell ain’t clear, so spit it out, whatever it is. That’s what you’re here for, right?” He shrugged. “You and me are beyond the point of pretending that I don’t intimately understand Naomi’s alcoholism, aren’t we?”

“Yeah. You’re right.” He took a deep breath. “I wanted to ask you what I did wrong with her.”

That
wasn’t what Aidan had been expecting. He cocked his shaggy blond head. “What you did
wrong
?”

“What didn’t I do or give her? In what way wasn’t I – enough?”

“Enough for what?” Aidan was genuinely baffled.

“Enough for her to cope when shit got bad.” King looked away. “That day she went in to crisis, she shut down, man. She – she regressed. I thought that I’d made her feel so safe and loved…I thought she was strong and steady.”

“Oh, God,” Aidan said gently. “Nothing. You did nothing wrong. You didn’t fail her. That’s not how this works, OK? You can offer an alcoholic the world on a silver platter – and all your love and support to boot – but at the end of the day, if that person is in crisis and locks themselves alone in a room with a bottle, it comes down to them to walk away. All they see is their addiction, and love doesn’t change that.”

“Love doesn’t matter?”

“That’s not what I said. Love
does
matter. Naomi knows that you’re there for her, and that gives her strength. But you can’t do this for her, so you need to stop thinking you can.”

“Does she?” This was what he really wanted to know, and his heart beat faster now. “Does she know I’m here? That I haven’t walked away from her and left her alone?”

Aidan smiled. “She knows.”

“How can you be sure?”

“Because she told me so. She said that you’re not actually with her and she doesn’t see you, but she feels you. She knows you’re waiting, man. She’s working her way back to you, I swear it.”

King felt tightness in his throat, so tight that he couldn’t speak. Aidan knew, though, and he nodded.

“Just hold on there, King. It’s going to be OK with you two. I know it.”

“Keep the faith, yeah?”

“Damn right.”

**

So King held on. And as the last dark and chilly winter days faded away and spring broke, he felt his spirits rise. The city was slowly, tentatively, starting to blossom. Green was shyly appearing everywhere he looked and flower buds were peeking out at the world, wondering if it was safe to come out now.

When Naomi finally called on that warm day in early April, he was at home making dinner. When he saw her name come up on his cell phone, he dropped the strainer full of rice straight on to the floor and truly didn’t give a crap.

“Naomi.”

“Hi, Matt.” She sounded happy. “How are you?”

“I just dropped a whole package of rice on the floor.”

She paused. “Cooked or uncooked?”

“Cooked and steaming hot.”

She laughed. “Sorry to hear that.”

“How are you?”

“Good. I’m really good.” He heard her take a deep breath. “Can I see you?”

Jesus Christ,
yes
. Anytime, anywhere.

“Yes. When?”

“Now?”

He was already moving towards the door, grabbing his jean jacket. “Baby, where are you?”

“At work. Can you meet me here at the Heart Center?”

“I’ll meet you on the moon, if that’s what you want.”

She laughed again and he was deliriously thrilled to hear it.

“Fifteen minutes. I’ll be right there.”

**

King almost ran in to the Heart Center and when he saw her standing there waiting for him, he kept right on moving. Without a word, he was on her, holding her close. He felt her breath on his chest, her hair tickled his chin, her curves melted against him.

“Hi,” she whispered. “I missed you.”

“Oh, God, honey.” He groaned the words. “I missed you too. So fucking much.”

She reached up and pulled his face down to hers. Her mouth was hot and hungry, and he kissed her like he did that first time: he took her mouth like she was his and he was hers. She was everything he’d ever wanted or needed and as he held her, he knew he wasn’t letting her go ever again.

They broke apart but she didn’t move away. His arms tightened around her and she closed her eyes, just stayed where she was for a minute.

“How are you?” he said quietly, his breath hot in her hair.

“Good. I’m really good.” Now she did step away from him. “I have something to show you.”

His eyebrows raised. “Am I going to like it?”

She giggled. “I think so.”

“Lead on, then, baby.”

She stopped dead. “God, I’ve missed that.”

“What?” His eyes were amused. “Calling you one of my bar girl pet names?”

“Yep. I’ve grown to quite like it, actually.”

“Well.” His huge hand caressed her cheek delicately. “They’re all only for you.”

“Because I’m yours?” Her eyes were anxious. “Still, even after this time apart?”

“Yes, still. And I’m yours.”

He saw the relief flash across her face and he smiled.

Naomi tugged on his hand. “Come on. This way.”

She led him through the silent open work area, down the hallway to one of the back rooms. He took in all the renovations and changes – walls torn down, piles of materials scattered about like lawsuits-waiting-to-happen, buckets of gray goop and paint. She walked past all the mess and wreckage to a door standing ajar. She stopped just outside of the room.

“I’ve been using this space for the past few weeks,” she said.

“As what?”

“A studio.”

He looked down at her, his heart pounding. “You’re painting again?”

“Uh-huh.” Her smile was radiant. “I just finished my first piece painted sober, and I want you to be the first person to see it.”

“Oh, God.” His voice was hushed. “I’d be honored.”

She pulled him in to the room now and he stared at the easel standing near the window. The painting there took his breath away, just for a second, and he let go of her hand and walked closer.

The passion in the painting kicked him in the chest, hard. Unlike all her other work which had largely featured people, this was an abstract. The colors ranged from a blinding hot pink all the way to a cool, pale blue. Strong geometrical shapes were surrounded by elegant, swirling curves; it looked like wind blowing around concrete buildings. The whole painting had a solidity to it, a sense of permanence, but it was still airy and light, somehow.

He walked closer, saw how the whole image changed. He paused, stepped back again, stepped forward.

“You see it?” she said.

“I don’t know.” He squinted. “I see something.”

“Step back a bit more.”

He did and now it jumped out at him, so clear and obvious, he wondered how he’d missed it. The blocks and swirls took form, took shape. The blocks were eyes, a nose, a chin; the swirls were cheekbones, lips, hair. The painting was a face. A woman’s face.

“Is that you?” he asked.

“Yes. It’s my self-portrait.”

“You’re beautiful.” He stared at it some more. “So alive.”

“Messy, though, huh? Hard to see at first behind all the chaos and confusion?”

King spun around. “I see you. I’ve always seen you.”

Her tears came now and he opened his arms. She walked in to them, pressed her whole body against his. He lowered his lips to her neck and mouthed tiny kisses along it, his lips gentle and warm. Matt’s scent washed over her and its familiarity was both sexy and comforting.

“I’m sorry for making you wait for me,” Naomi whispered to his chest. “You deserved better than that.”

“No.” He lifted her chin and rested his forehead on hers. “I deserved you at your best and for that to happen, you needed time. I’d have waited forever to see you truly happy and confident.”

“I am now.” She smiled. “I promise you, I’ve got myself back.” She paused. “Or maybe I’ve got myself for the first time in my whole life.”

He had no words anymore so King kissed her, hoping that everything he was thinking and feeling could be communicated that way. He knew right away that she both heard him and felt him: she moaned and arched in to his kiss.

“Matt?”

“Yeah, honey?”

“Make love to me.”

His whole body went hard. “With pleasure.”

They undressed each other slowly, taking the time to remember the other person’s body and its sweet spots. Within minutes, it was like they’d never been apart for even one hour. Naomi ran her tongue over his collarbone, King kissed the length of her shoulders; she circled his nipples, he ran his finger down her hips. That was when he saw it and he went to his knees to get a better look.

“When did you get it done?” he said.

“Remember at my one-year ceremony, when I said that I left the hotel and went and did something that really meant something to me?”

“This was it?”

“Yeah.”

He ran his fingertip over the tattoo’s lines. “It’s gorgeous.”

“You think?”

“I really do. Is it a lotus flower?”

“Yes.”

“Tell me what it means to you.”

“Lotuses celebrate emerging from a struggle and being stronger for it.” Naomi traced the white petals. “They’re new beginnings, but they’re also warnings… reminders to never forget the struggle. And they’re promises, too – promises to never return to the scene of the conflict. To move on.”

“You’ve made that promise?”

She smiled down at him. “I re-make that promise every day.”

“It’s getting easier to keep?”

“Yes. Every day, it’s a bit easier.”

King stood up. “I want to make you a promise, too.”

“OK.”

“I promise to have your back on the battlefield, baby. Never again do you feel like you’re fighting this fight alone. I can’t take on this addiction for you, but I sure as hell can stand behind you as you stare it down.”

“I know.” She kissed him. “You’ve always been right there, Matt, even if I didn’t turn around to see you.”

“You see me now?”

“Yes,” she whispered. “Clear as day.”

“Good. I see you too.”

He kissed her again and again, scorching, hungry kisses that stole her breath, until she was breathless and begging in his arms. She broke away, grabbed a condom from her purse with a naughty grin, and he smiled back.

“Someone came prepared, huh?” he said.

“I just hoped, that's all,” she said. "Hoped that you'd be interested."

"Oh, hell, yeah. I'm interested." He rolled on the condom and sat in the armchair in the corner. “Come here and I mean this fucking instant. I can’t wait for you even one second longer.”

“I thought you were good at waiting,” she said as she walked over to him, swinging her hips in a saucy way that made his mouth water and his fingers itch to touch her.

“Not anymore, I’m not. I’ve waited long enough and I need you.
Now
.”

He turned her away from him, pulled her down on to his lap. His huge cock nudged her from behind and in one swift movement, King lifted her hips, lowered her on to him. She gasped as he opened her legs wide over his thighs and dropped one hand between them. Her feet were dangling off the floor and she was at his mercy: impaled and spread, filled and helpless. She leaned back against his muscled chest, his mouth pressing hot kisses along her neck, shoulders, back. His stubble rubbed her sensitive skin, adding another layer of pleasure.

“Matt,” she gasped. “Oh, God… I love this. I love
you
.”