Secret Worlds (11 page)

My fingers tangled in his hair as he kissed me deeply. He throbbed against me now, and I ached for him to quench the fire he had lit.

His hand, covered in paint, ran under my blouse, inching up from my navel. He bit my lip as he tugged off my bra, freeing my breasts and sending a needy shiver through my body. I moaned again, clutching against him and thrusting my hips into his.

His mouth still pressed against my own, I felt the smile creep across his lips as he scoured my breasts hungrily, electricity in his fingers and desire coursing through my every nerve. He pinched my nipples between his thumb and forefinger until my moans turned to begging, then he pulled at my blouse, ripping it open.

“Your dress,” he muttered.

“Fuck the dress,” I whispered. “Just keep going.”

He trailed kisses down my neck, my chest, my breasts. My body shuddered as he took them in his mouth, one and then the other. His tongue flickered across my nipples, sending shockwaves through me and beating past the very last of my defenses.

But it wasn’t enough. I wanted him everywhere. As my body rocked against his, his hand traveled lower, past my navel, in between my thighs. His face came back up near mine, his nose brushing across my cheek and his lips tracing my jawline. When I tried to push my body back against his, I was met with the resistance of him holding me still and his soft chuckle in my ear.

“What are you waiting for?” There was a pleading in my voice, a pleading for him not to stop, for him never to stop.

“You’re not ready,” he mumbled. His hand slid over the silk of my underwear, and his thumb rubbed my clitoris through the thin material. “I’ve never known you to be so quiet. Are you all right?”

My nails were digging into him again—his back, this time. “I’m going to kill you, Abram.”

“Not yet you’re not,” he whispered. His fingers dipped in the welcoming darkness of my underwear, and I gasped as he slid one into me, but his free hand flew up and pressed over my lips.

I stood, trembling against the paint-soaked wall. With Abram’s hand against my lips and his other hand inside of me, pushing deeper than I ever imagined anyone would go, it seemed as though I might explode.

After a moment, he removed his hands from me and stepped back, but when I whimpered, he just grinned. “Shh, Mrs. Bellamy. These walls are thin. You wouldn’t want the whole town to hear.”

I felt vulnerable, needy, and weak—but I didn’t care. My whole face burned as he assessed me with his gaze while sliding off his shirt to reveal the rest of his upper body. The paint had smeared across both of us, and he was covered in streaks of gray and desire. My heart leapt in my chest as his fingers trailed down to unbutton his pants, but there was one more thing we needed to do first.

“Wait,” I breathed.

He blanched. “Is this too fast for you?”

I replied with a devilish grin. “Not fast enough,” I said, both my voice and body still trembling with desire. “But now
you
have to say it. If you want me, you have to—”

“I do,” he said. “Since the first moment I saw you, I have.”

Well, that was a lot easier for him than it had been for me, but more importantly, I knew he was telling the truth.

His pants fell, revealing the fullness of his body. He was a sculpture, a masterpiece of skin, hair, and heart. Our bodies collided, and I wrapped my legs around him. He tore away my underwear, the shreds falling to the floor at his feet.

“You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” he said, just as breathless as I had been.

And that’s when it hit me.

The most beautiful thing I had ever seen just called me the most beautiful thing
he
had ever seen.

All of the sudden, this town didn’t seem so bad.

He moved again, slower this time, to lay me across the bar. I was naked— trembling and exposed—but the look on his face told me I was safe, that he would never let anything happen to me. And, for the first time, I knew what he meant about me wanting someone to take care of me.

He was right.

He settled over me, all caresses and kisses, his hands finding my wrists and gliding them against the marble-top, pushing my arms over my head and pinning my hands against the counter. I felt completely out of control, and it felt … good.

As though not satisfied with all that had already transpired, his hands explored my body again—pinching, twisting, teasing. Biting, nibbling, scraping. I was near tears with need when finally he finally rolled on a condom and guided himself inside of me, white stars shooting across my vision as he thrust himself deeper.

I bit my lip, trying to keep my whimpers and moans from turning louder, but when he thrust again, my mouth flung open and, like an audience welcoming the hottest model of the season, a scream of ecstasy escaped my lips.

So much for quitting and so much for taking care of myself. But as good as Abram was in bed—or rather, on the bar countertop—I had to wonder … 

Could he really keep me alive?

I woke with a sweet ache pulling at my bones. I was on the floor upstairs—that was much was clear from the way my body was contorted. But it didn’t matter. I was a world away from uncomfortable. I had just experienced the most magnificent thing in the world, something so amazing I was sure it would never be duplicated.

I opened my eyes slowly, blinking away the sleep and stretching out the satisfaction. The sun seeped low through the windows, indicating the fall of evening.

I reached across for Abram, yearning to feel him against my fingertips again. When I came up empty, my eyes flung open. He was gone. Go figure. He’d probably snuck off as though I was some convenient booty call.

Is that what I was?

Well, that would make things awkward. Regret for my actions trickled into my mind. Looking over to where Abram should have been, I found a crumpled note.

I had to go.

I was going to wake you,

But then you made this little moaning sound and pursed your lips.

I didn’t have the heart to disturb something so beautiful.

I have a lot I want to say to you, a lot I think you need to know.

But a letter doesn’t seem like enough, and those texts machines are confounding.

Let me make you breakfast tomorrow instead.

I would love to show you what a real pancake tastes like.

-Abram

A smile broke across my face, and suddenly I didn’t feel like a booty call after all. I felt … wanted. Sure, it was a stupid note on a crumpled napkin smeared with barbeque sauce, but for Abram, that was a big thing. I knew that, and because I knew that, it meant something.

I sat up, folding the crumpled napkin and slipping it into my purse, which at some point while I slept had been placed neatly beside me along with my shoes and clothes.

I had never been the type of girl who did the whole ‘keepsake’ thing. Reminders were just that, and I didn’t want to be reminded. But there was something about this note, something about this man, that made me feel differently somehow.

My stomach rumbled, and I was instantly glad Abram wasn’t here to hear it. I wasn’t about to apologize for being hungry, but something about the idea of being stark naked on the floor of a demolished club with your tummy growling like a grizzly bear didn’t seem very attractive.

I stood, ran my fingers through my hair, and slipped on my clothes. Leaving my shoes off and trying ignore the ugly yellow-green bruises and scrapes on my feet that would surely scar, I sauntered barefoot across the long upstairs hall, looking down over the balcony into the main area.

I felt comfortable here. Really comfortable. And it had little to do with the fact that my bare ass had touched the paint-splattered walls.

Something about fixing up The Castle, about molding it into the sort of place that might have been successful under different circumstances, made me feel better. It was like building this place up built myself up, too. Maybe that was why I was where I was now. Maybe it was this piece of confidence, this accomplishment, which gave me what I needed to let Abram in.

I sighed, breathing in the smell of drying paint. Abram was still here, his scent wafting long after he had
left. Every muscle in my body relaxed. For the first time since returning to New Haven, I was at peace.

Moving toward one of the windows, I closed my eyes and let the light of the fading evening sun tingle against my skin. A murmuring tickled at my ears, and at first I thought I just imagined it. But then the sound came again like a soft call, whispering my name.

“Chaaarriiiissse.”

Without moving, without flinching, I knew where it came from. I had heard that noise before, singing from behind the painted moon door downstairs.

Before I registered what was happening, I was downstairs, across the main floor, and down the hall leading to the back room. And, though I had no memory of picking it up, I found a crow bar in my hand.

Did I even know where Abram kept his tools?

I stood in front of the door, the voice singing my name to me again.

“Chaaarriiissse. Chaaarriiissse.”

Last time I’d tried to open the door, I’d ended up with burns on my palms. Now the crow bar was heating to match it. I didn’t let go, though. I couldn’t. Besides, the heat didn’t hurt this time. There was no pain, nothing more than the sensation of warmth. It was almost inviting.

I found the crow bar pulling back in my hands, which were now raised over my head. I could feel the bar being pulled back and then toward the door. It slammed hard against the painted moon, which had begun to glow red.

“Aaaaggaaiiiinnn,” the voice sang after the bar shook against the door.

My arms sprang into action again, pulling behind my head. But my phone dinged loudly, indicating I had a text.

Something jarred inside my head, and a crow bar fell from my hands.

Why was I holding a crow bar? Why was I standing in front of this creepy door?

Shaking the fog from my mind, I looked down at my phone.

The text read: Dinner tonight?

It was from Dalton.
Oh no
. I hadn’t made him any promises. I hadn’t even kissed him, unless you counted a hot peck on the ear. But there was no denying something was going on between us. He had even called me ‘his girl’; a definition I hadn’t rebuffed.

And now here I was, planning morning-after breakfast with my boss while this man was waiting on me for dinner, sending me texts with cute smiley emoticons and being an all-around standup guy, oblivious to what a shitty person I was.

I wasn’t a cheater, exactly. Was I? If not, I was still too close for comfort. I couldn’t let this go on. Dalton deserved better than this. He had been nothing but amazing to me. Not to mention we had grown up together and he was my best friend’s baby brother.

This was getting complicated.

But complicated didn’t change facts, and the fact was I wasn’t attracted to Dalton, not in the same way I was attracted to Abram. And maybe I had always known that. Maybe running from my growing feelings for Abram was part of the reason I threw in with Dalton so quickly.

That wasn’t fair to him, but there was nothing I could do about the past. And now that I knew, not telling him right away would be even worse. I needed to nip this thing in the bud and deal with whatever fallout came from it.

I shot him a text.

Hey. Can we talk? Meet me at the diner? —Char

I could have broken it off with him via text. God knew it would be easier for
me
that way. But that would be impersonal and, as Abram had said, a letter didn’t seem like enough.

Begrudgingly, I slipped my shoes on. I used to love my shoes, but lately, with my feet still sore, wearing them felt like a punishment. Maybe one I deserved at the moment. I sighed as I stuffed my phone back into my pocket. After locking up The Castle behind me, I ascended the stairs, not wanting to do what I knew I had to.

The sun was almost gone from the sky, tinting the clouds red and orange and elongating all the shadows. It would be dark soon, and with that damn sexist curfew in effect, I wasn’t legally allowed to be on the streets right now. But since I didn’t give a warmed-over damn about that, I kept toward the diner.

I was about halfway there when the unnerving thought struck me: I hadn’t been outside and alone in the dark since
that
night. The monsters surged to the forefront of my mind. I still hadn’t told anyone about what really happened, and since I didn’t fancy being fitted for a strait jacket, it was going to stay that way. Besides, it had probably only been shadows playing tricks. They were dogs … or something … 

Dogs with glowing yellow eyes. Dogs that stood straight up like men.

I shook my head, passing by an entrance to those large and encompassing woods.

I didn’t want to look at them, not after everything that had happened. But something caught my eye.

A man was wandering into the woods. And not just
any
man. I knew that back. I knew those arms. I knew that ridiculously tight ass.

It was Abram.

What was Abram doing in the woods? And why so close to the area where I had gone missing?

My heart bounced around in my chest like a pinball. I shook my head. Whatever he was doing, I would find out tomorrow. I would just ask him, and he would tell me.

Yeah. Right. I wasn’t kidding anyone—not even myself. This man—a man I had just let into my heart
and
my body—had secrets. He had always had secrets. It was part of his appeal. But now it seemed very likely that his secrets were connected to things that happened to me … things that I still didn’t really understand.

Maybe a different type of girl would be okay with asking him tomorrow and taking whatever he said at face value. But the type of girl I was—she just flung her heels off and followed him into the woods, battered feet and all.

At first, I stayed far enough back to be sure Abram couldn’t hear all the noise I made storming after him. It was strange. Here I was, after the most intense night of passion with this man, snooping around at his footprints like some sketchy TMZ photographer.