Only You (A Sweet Torment Novel) (12 page)

Since I had a fun-filled bus ride back to Albany later, I decided to have a beer. Maybe two.

“Thanks for meeting me tonight, Haz.”

She looked at me with a little shock and I knew it was because my voice cracked a little.

“Of course. You’re my best friend.”

I really wanted to ask her to pinky promise on that and say “no matter what” because for whatever reason, the sad, scared girl I pushed down and suffocated all those years ago was starting to surface, and looking for something—someone—to cling to.

All Amy’s absence did was remind me that something bad was going on in my world, and I was alone in dealing with it.

“Three different men from New York have called me, Paiges,” my mother said.

I pressed the phone harder to my ear. Between the loud hum of the bus taking me back to Albany and my mother’s startled voice, I had a hard time hearing her.

“What did they want?”

“They asked all kinds of questions about you and your job with the governor’s office, about your boss who’s plastered all over the TV.”

“Bill Vorse?”

“Yes, that’s him.”

Great. Just great. Now reporters were looking for the next big scoop on the scandal and calling my mother to get info. It wasn’t a secret I had worked for him and no longer was now. My mother, however, didn’t know the meaning of
no comment
.

“They asked me all kinds of questions about you and what kind of woman you are. If I thought you were the kind to hide details, lie, and . . .”

“Mom?” When she trailed off, my heart rate picked up. “What did you say?”

“I said you had some trouble in your teen years, but who doesn’t? All girls have to learn what the truth is and how their imagination can run away with them.”

“You didn’t . . .” I cupped my forehead. “I was a minor, Mom. And your husband was the one who—”

“That’s enough, Paige!” she snapped. “We put that to rest a long time ago. Everyone is finally getting back to normal. The town doesn’t gossip the way they used to.”

Lucky me. Because yeah, I remembered the looks and harassment. The pointed stares and having no friends my entire high school career. I’d had Amy, and she was great, but between her difficult parents and her sister dying, high school wasn’t exactly spent braiding each other’s hair and gossiping about boys. I had constantly looked for a way to escape, and Amy looked for a way to make her parents notice her. We had always been friends, but the last couple years of school were rough on both of us.

Even the teachers had hated me, thinking I was some lying drama queen looking to pin an innocent man with such a despicable charge.

“I don’t want this drug back up again, Mom.”

“Neither do I, Paiges.” Her tone was softer and it hurt something in my heart. Never once did she try comforting me when I went to her in the middle of the night, crying and terrified. Nor did she when I stood up and tried to battle Frank on my own. No, she was only kind when she was trying to get me to admit what she wanted to hear.

The truth was, her husband was an asshole. But in the end, she chose him.

Still did.

“I don’t know what’s going on, or what you did—” she said.

“I didn’t do anything.”

She sighed and even with the creaky wheels of the bus, the vast night sky, and the smell of diesel around me, I could picture her clear as day. She didn’t believe me.

“You can come home. The truth is always the best way to beat anything.”

I nodded. “You’re right, Mom. But sometimes the truth doesn’t seem to matter to anyone.”

With that, I hung up and rested my head against the cold glass of the window. I was tired. A penetrating exhaustion that came with years of fighting something I could never win, and now there was a new battle I was taking on. My mother thought me a liar, one of my best friends couldn’t be around me, and my boss didn’t look at me as anything beyond temporary.

My muscles hurt and my head ached.

But it was when my eyes watered . . . just enough to realize I was closer to tears than I’d been in a long time, I sat up straight and wiped my sleeve over my eyes.

“Power respects power,” I said to myself.

I may have had no one on my side, no one to turn to, no one to even go up against. But I would stay strong. Crumbling now would be defeat.

I thought of Leo. Of his eyes. The way he saw through me, into me.

It was a problem that only made me feel weak. But weak in a way that was addicting. Because right then, the only thing that sounded like it could cure all my woes and allow me to disappear into something better, was him.

I rubbed my hands along my shoulders and no matter how hard I tried, I was still cold. Ever since the night at the bar, I hadn’t been able to get truly warm unless I was in his presence.

And that made the ice in my stomach hurt even worse.

Chapter Eleven

I
had just brushed my teeth and put on my pajamas when a loud booming knock came at my front door.

I opened it to find Leo. A very pissed-off Leo.

Tilting my head, I examined the damp stain down the front of his shirt. He smelled like vodka.

“You’re all wet,” I said, and leaned against my doorjamb.

His blue eyes were wild. “Yes. That is because I got to dinner just in time for Bepa’s roses to come. Her
twelve
roses. Which is when I got a drink thrown in my face.”

I raised my brow. “My, my, that sounds awful.”

He took a step toward me. “I specifically told you thirteen roses.”

I tapped my chin and glanced at the ceiling. “My silly mind. Surely I am better with details like that. Especially when you made such a big deal about it. Which is why I may or may not have Googled something about Russians and flowers. Did you know that in Russia, an even number of flowers are only given at funerals, lest they invite death?”

“Yes,” Leo growled. “I did know that. And Bepa knew I knew that and took this action as very offensive.” He went to say more, then stalled as his gaze swept over me. “Is that what you wear to bed?”

I frowned down at myself. My oversize NYU T-shirt hit mid-thigh and my comfy gray socks came just over my knees. Paired with a nest of red curls on top of my head and no makeup . . . I swallowed down an instant feeling of uncertainty.

If I typically donned a power suit, this was my clown getup.

“Yes,” I said with all the confidence I could muster. Which was hard, considering I wasn’t wearing pants.

He nodded and that wild look in his eyes turned a little more wild. But in a desirable way.

“You know, if you didn’t want me going out with Bepa, you could have just admitted you like me and are jealous.”

“I am not jealous.” So she was a supermodel with legs longer than my entire body. Naturally someone of Leo’s wealth, power, and ridiculous good looks would date her.

“That’s all you have to say?” Though Leo’s tone was rough, and anger tinted it, his body took on a whole different demeanor. His shoulders straightened and his hips subtly thrust out with every inch he took toward me and farther into my house. Hips that were lined with a black leather belt and black pants that accented his long legs. I knew what kind of muscles he was hiding. Sure, I may not have gotten a good look in the past, but I’d felt it.

And in that moment, that was all I was thinking about.

“Was there something else you wanted me to say?” I said on a strangled breath.

“Well, you didn’t defend against liking me.” When I opened my mouth to do just that, he cut me off. “And don’t make a liar out of yourself, Red. You’re better than that.”

The challenge was issued and heat bloomed in my chest. Anger, rage, want, lust. All of it flooded. I hated the way he made me feel. Hated that I lost my judgment around him. Hated that I wanted him so much. Hated the world spinning around me and the lack of control I seemed to have daily.

I wanted my control back. Wanted to feel . . . wanted. Like there was someone left in the world who valued me. That I wasn’t this plague of a person with a bad past, bad present, and bleak future.

“There are moments I like you,” I said slowly. “But I think
like
is the wrong word.”

He raised a brow. “Oh?”

I nodded and kicked the door shut behind him, bringing our bodies an inch apart. “I think
want
is more accurate.”

He searched my face and I knew he was toiling with the possibilities and ramifications of what this encounter could mean. How far we could go. Because I was doing the same thing.

But I was done thinking about that.

Mostly because I was done feeling the way I did. I wanted that brief moment back where time stopped and all I felt was Leo. Where I wasn’t this awful woman no one believed in. That I wasn’t alone in my life.

“It’s been a bad day,” I said.

He scoffed and tugged his damp shirt once. “Tell me about it.” His hand trailed down and I thought he’d touch me, but he didn’t. “You said you wanted professional,” he reminded me, throwing my words from the night at the gala in my face.

“I do. But I’m off the clock right now. And I want . . .”

He crouched enough to coax me to look at him. “What do you want?”

The edge in his voice made me think that maybe, just maybe, if I asked him, he’d give me it. It was a risk, but the coldness was overwhelming and his heat was too tempting to turn away from.

“You,” I said softly.

His dark brows sliced down with a look of concern. “What happened tonight, Paige?”

“N-nothing.”

“Bullshit. You look . . .” he examined my face. “Sad.”

I cleared my throat. I’d just admitted I wanted him and was now standing vulnerable. I needed some power back.

“I’m fine.”

He shook his head. “I don’t believe you.”

The words hurt, but not in the way they did from everyone else. Leo, once again, was calling me out, forcing me to admit something I didn’t want to. Something he seemed to see.

“I want honesty from you, Paige. And I’m tired of you coming at me fifty percent, then walking away.”

He stepped out the front door to leave me, and I realized how shitty that notion felt. I grabbed his arm. I was already waging a losing battle against this pain in my stomach and the tears dancing behind my eyes. If he left tonight, I just might break.

“Don’t.”

He turned around and looked at where I was gripping him on the arm, then at my face.

“Stay,” I whispered. “And I promise, you can be the one to leave after.”

“You still don’t get it. I didn’t want to leave the first time.”

I swallowed hard and something so honest, so passionate flashed in his eyes. How long had I left him waiting at the bar before he realized I’d snuck out? A few minutes? An hour? I pushed the guilt down because it was the last feeling I wanted to have. The last feeling I wanted him to have.

“I didn’t want to leave either,” I mumbled and he frowned.

“Then why did you? Twice?”

“Because I don’t like you.” The words came out so quickly that I couldn’t stop them.

“Awesome,” Leo scoffed. “You know, I’m a pretty relaxed guy, but you?” Those blue eyes swept over me. “You make no sense. And I’ll be damned if I let another woman fuck with my mind. The shit you pulled tonight with the flowers, only to deny what you feel for me is . . .” His eyes leveled me with an angry blue ice stare. “Heartless.”

And with that, my heart actually stopped. Not only did I realize he’d said “another woman,” meaning someone had obviously hurt him in the past, but from the sound of his voice and look on his face, it was bad. But he wasn’t totally wrong. I was acting like an idiot. Problem was, I didn’t know what or who to cling to. How to stop. How to . . . be honest with him. Because in the end, the unspun truth was rarely my friend anyway.

“I know I screwed up,” I said. “I sent the flowers because I didn’t like you with that woman.” I shook my head at the ceiling, feeling weak for admitting that. “And I didn’t mean that I don’t like you . . . I just don’t like the way you . . .” I motioned my hand in his direction.

“You don’t like the way I what?”

“The way you see me, okay? I don’t like how you just—”

“Call your bullshit?” he said with a grin.

Yeah, that’s what I meant, but no way would I say that out loud. Not when I had admitted too much already.

“Forget it,” I sighed.

“No,” Leo said with a sharp rasp. “What the hell is going on with you, Paige? Do you enjoy fucking with people?”

“No,” I said with a croak in my throat.

Every emotion I had been battling the last week, hell the last several years, settled in my chest like rocks and it hurt to breathe. I was sick of feeling alone all the time, and no matter how hard I tried to claw out from under the badness weighing me down, I just couldn’t gain any ground.

I was constantly digging. Trying to prove something, anything, to anyone. And nothing mattered. I was alone in a crowd, alone even with my friends—the ones who still saw me, that is.

I was plagued. Seen as a risk.

I offered nothing of value, because my word didn’t even mean anything. If it did, my own mother would have taken it. Roman would have taken it.

But they didn’t.

I was losing the fight, one I’d been waging since I was fifteen and begging to make the pain stop. The disbelief. Because the problem wasn’t that I didn’t have anyone to stand by me in anything—it was that I was slowly starting to wonder if I even had myself anymore.

I glanced up and saw Leo’s face. It was pulled together in concern.

“Paige . . . are you okay?”

Taking a deep breath, I placed my hands on his chest and gently pushed him back so his shoulders met the wall.

“I don’t enjoy fucking with people,” I clarified, “but I do enjoy fucking you.”

Grabbing his shirt in my fists, I didn’t say anything else and leaned up and kissed him. Hard.

I needed control. Something. Anything that made me feel like I had an ounce of strength left.

When Leo didn’t pull away, I thrust my tongue between his teeth and he groaned. His hands landed heavy on my ass and hoisted me up. I wrapped my legs around his hips and continued eating at his mouth like I was starved. Because I was.

Every time I tasted him, I grew more addicted.

I bit his lip.

Sucked his tongue.

Then went back for more.

He walked us into the bedroom while returning every heated kiss I gave. Balancing my weight on one arm, he reached up with the other and freed my hair, instantly tunneling his fingers through it, pulling the tendrils hard enough to sting my scalp in the most erotic way that made me moan for more.

I was so on fire for him that I clawed like an animal to get to his skin. Anything I could touch. Anything I could feel, I wanted.

So long as I wasn’t feeling the ice. The empty, cold ache anymore.

Without warning, he tossed me down on the bed and pulled his shirt over his head and off. I had only a millisecond to appreciate his cut abs and strong chest. The way his tattoo wrapped around him, like black ink loving his skin in an intimate swirled design, was breathtaking. But he was on top of me before I could even right myself.

“You want me to fuck you, Red?” He wedged himself between my thighs and I raised my hips to grind against him. I shoved hard at his chest, making him fall on his back on the bed, and I straddled him. I yanked my shirt off, leaving me in nothing but knee highs and panties.

Slapping my hands on his hard chest, I gently clawed his mocha skin and said, “No.
I
want to fuck
you
.”

He wrapped his arms around my waist and sat up. All the hard muscles of his stomach rippling in a way that made my mouth water to taste him. Apparently he had a similar notion because his mouth latched on to one of my nipples and he sucked hard.

My head fell back and I drove my fingers into his hair, letting him devour me.

“Yes,” I groaned, loving his mouth on me.

He sucked and licked, burrowing his face between my breasts and gently biting. He devoured every inch of plump skin and I arched my back, silently begging for more.

There are several kinds of sex: angry, desperate, makeup, loving, consuming.

Then there was this.

Whatever Leo and I were on the brink of was somehow a combination of all of them. Rough, slow, hard, powerful, tender. I couldn’t figure out how I was feeling everything at once. My emotions were spiraling and I just wanted him. So much I didn’t care to understand why. And the passion was overwhelming.

I reached between us, trying to unfasten his belt, but I couldn’t get a good enough grip. I loved his mouth on me, but had to push him to his back again so I could have more.

He lay back, sucking my nipple hard until forced to let go.

I went straight to work on his belt and fly. “Condom?”

“In my pants pocket,” he said and I searched for it, finally finding it, then tugged his pants all the way off, leaving him naked. I shucked my socks and panties then straddled him again.

His cock bobbed between us and I stared transfixed. He was longer than average, but what was more alarming was his girth. No wonder I had felt a little sore the morning after we’d had sex at the bar.

A low rumble came from his chest. His whole torso strained with tension.

He was holding back.

Whatever he wanted to do, he didn’t, he just lay there, letting me straddle him, to look and touch.

“This is your show, Red,” he said, confirming my thoughts.

He could easily overpower me. Take me like he did the night we met, hard and consuming. But he didn’t. He let me lead. Let me have the power. And judging by the way his body flexed and tensed, it was going against his instincts.

In this moment, I actually believed he truly saw me. Saw what I needed. And that was him. I needed to feel in control again, and somehow, he understood that.

I ran my hands down his chest, pausing a minute to trail my fingertip along some of the lines of his tattoo. He grabbed my wrist and brought my hand to his mouth. He gently nipped at the fleshy part of my thumb, then kissed my palm, up my forearm, sucking on the pulse point.