Smother (12 page)

Through the mirror above the dresser, their eyes met. Damn if her body didn’t react to the shared look through the reflective glass—the darkness of his stare, the mere fact that he stood behind her, even if he was a couple feet away and out of touching distance. She imagined him wrapped around her from behind, his mouth on the side of her neck.

The thing about some guys was that they didn’t need to have a connection with a woman to want them. They didn’t even have to like them. There was no meshing of the heart and sexual urges to keep things simple. It was all a blur of instincts and lust and compartmentalization. Everything was in its own little box: heart, head, dick. Why would Leo be any different?

Reese slowly turned, aware that her thin, wet shirt didn’t leave much for him to wonder about.

Leo’s lips pressed together as she moved toward him. “Don’t.”

“Don’t what?”

She raised a hand and Leo immediately caught it within his, halting its progress. He gently squeezed, caution in his eyes. That simple touch made her tremble. Her breathing turned shallow, her body heated up. He was strong, warm. Leo was good, better than she would ever be. She wanted to pretend she was good, just for a moment. Her eyes stung, and the longer Leo continued to hold her wrist, the more she needed him.

Reese stared into chips of flint as she pushed forward. Leo tensed as her breasts brushed against his arm. She pressed closer, every part of her front touching his in some way. She could feel him, feel the hardness of his muscles and everything else, through his clothing. His body responded even as he moved back. Using sex to feel good kept the destructive cycle going, but it was the only power of any kind she had.

But this was different. What she wanted from Leo was unknown to her, just beyond reach.

“Please, Leo,” she whispered. Her eyes begged for something she didn’t understand.

He looked down at her, his height and width constructed to intimidate, and instead a safe haven. A man with little words still said so much with his body language, most of it conflicting. His eyes told her no, his body told her yes. His hard mouth wanted to kiss her, his elegant fingers wanted to mold her into some form of art. His body wanted to claim her. At the same time, Leo was repelled by her. That, she at least, understood.

She wanted him to find something worthy in her. Reese wanted him to take the pain away, even if all that did was produce more pain. When he moved for her, she tensed. His calloused hand reached up, fingered a strand of short blond hair, and moved to caress the side of her face. The simple tenderness of it made her mouth tremble and she looked down. That wasn’t what she’d expected from him.

Leo moved slowly, purposely, giving her time to move away if she wanted, and wrapped his arms around her. He was careful to keep their lower halves apart as he hugged her tightly with bands of steel crisscrossed on her back. Holding her. Keeping her upright. Letting her know someone was there for her. He rested his chin on the crown of her head, all of him presently designed to comfort and protect.

Shocked, at first she remained stiff, unsure whether she should push him away or not. She wanted to close her eyes and stay where she was, even as she wanted to shove him away and tell him never to touch her again. Her sister, so many years ago, was the last person she’d allowed to hug her or that she’d initiated hugging. This was foreign and awkward.

His heart beat close to her ear and Reese pressed the side of her face to his chest to listen. It was just a hug—a lame, insignificant hug, but it felt like more. As soon as she realized her thoughts and the repercussions of this moment and what it made her feel, she shoved him. Leo staggered a few steps, the footboard of the bed halting him. There was nothing on his face, no hint of his thoughts or emotions as he looked at her.

“Don’t ever do that again,” she said slowly.

He crossed his arms. “I do what I want.”

“Well, if you’re not going to do anything about that, get the hell out.” Her eyes went down. At least Reese no longer had to wonder whether he was attracted to her or not. She was even more confused by his behavior toward her now. He went out of his way not to touch her, and when he’d hugged her, he’d made sure there was nothing sexual about it.

“Shop. Thirty minutes.” He strode from the room without glancing her way.

“You said forty!”

“It’s thirty now.”

She heard the door shut behind him and quickly got her wet clothes off. Reese dressed in red leggings and a black tunic, tossing on a wide belt and black boots. She didn’t look forward to an afternoon spent with Leo, and not because of the strangely platonic intimacy they’d just shared, but because she couldn’t deal with how insane she felt around him.

The thing with Reese is that she thinks bad is good, and good is bad. She was shown that. She expects that. I can’t change the way she thinks, but I want her to know she can. ~ Leo

Shame over her actions tried to take over, and she wouldn’t let it, which in turn put her in a pissy mood. Reese owed Leo an apology. She owed him a lot of those. She didn’t want to feel guilty over her crappy behavior toward him, and that she did was obvious proof that he meant more to her than he should. Bad mood firmly in place and needing a good argument, Reese stepped into the shop and strode for him. The scent of coffee and warmth of the place wanted to soothe her and that irritated her more.

“Who are you?” It was a demand, spoken in a snarky tone of voice. She wanted a fight.

Leo looked up from his sketchpad long enough to say, “Don’t ask me that. You don’t want to know.”

Reese stared at him, surprised that he’d told her even that. It took some of the fire from her, sizzled out her need for confrontation and replaced it with curiosity. It hadn’t been an answer, but it was a warning. He was wrong—she desperately wanted to know him so that she didn’t feel so crazy and fixated.

“You’re driving me crazy, you know that?” She meant her tone to be flippant, but the strain in it raised his head. His eyes locked with hers. Seconds ticked by, full of tension and realities neither were equipped to handle. Reese turned away, messing up her already untidy hair, and moved to start a pot of coffee.

“I started drawing when I was ten.” His voice was low, hesitant.

She spun around, took in the way he held his head so that she couldn’t get a clear view of his face. He was offering something of himself even as he tried to remain hidden, and it put an ache in her chest.

Leo glanced up, the muscles of the arm resting on the desk tense, the knuckles of his hand white as he clenched the wood. “I wanted to bring light into an ugly place. Drawing helped me find it.”

Escape: he’d found his in artwork and she’d found hers in disgrace.

“Thank you,” she said softly. He’d given her a piece of him, a detail she was sure most didn’t know. That should be revered, held close to her heart like the most precious of gifts. And, for better or worse, she would.

He brusquely nodded and grabbed a pencil. With lightning quick strokes, Leo drew himself out of her world and into his own. Reese turned back to the coffeepot, knowing he needed silence now. She put a filter in the coffeemaker, measured out coffee grounds, and added water from the small sink beside it. The finger that pressed the start button felt heavy.

“I don’t have that light,” she admitted, careful to keep her back to him.

The silence that followed hugged her, kept that invisible divider between them, and she exhaled slowly, knowing it had to be that way. It was a good thing one of them could draw lines, because she failed abysmally at it. If it was up to her, Reese would latch herself on to him like he was her very air and damn the consequences—and there were always consequences. They’d fly for a while, like he’d said, and then they’d both fall, only there wouldn’t be anything for her to land on.

“None of us have it. We have to find it.”

She turned, but his eyes were downcast as he drew, nothing about him hinting at the words he’d spoken, and she wondered if she’d imagined them. But then Leo glanced up, just a second of powerful gray heat before he looked down again, and she expelled a deep, soft sigh. She’d heard him right.

They weren’t expecting anyone for twenty minutes, so when the door opened, she figured it was someone interested in making an appointment to get a tattoo. Reese looked up, her stomach dropping as she realized it wasn’t. It was someone she’d never wanted to see again, a night she wanted to forget. It was Daniel. Just like that, all the good of the moment was sucked away.

He smiled at her and sauntered into the middle of the room, looking around. Daniel’s blond hair was slick with styling gel and he brought the scent of overpowering cologne with him. From his black leather bomber jacket to his black boots, all of him was accessorized in dollar signs. His eyes lingered on Leo’s artwork on the wall and Reese wanted to jump in front of it to hide the beauty from the taint of his eyes.

Daniel looked at her. “So this is where you work.”

Leo was to her before Daniel finished his sentence. A tick formed in his jaw as he stared the other man down. “You’re not welcome here.”

“Who are you?” Daniel demanded.

“No one you want to know.”

The friendly smile iced over. “I’m here to see Reese.”

“I don’t—” She swallowed around a dry mouth. “I don’t want to see you.”

“But we had such a good time.” He paused to rub a hand over his mouth, brown eyes deceivingly warm. “Didn’t we? Ryan sends his regards.”

Reese saw Leo stiffen out of the corner of her eye. Her voice came out braver than she was feeling. “We really didn’t have a good time. And Ryan can fuck off.” She couldn’t look at Leo. She didn’t want to see his eyes. She was afraid of what she’d find in them—disgust, disappointment.

Daniel’s eyes narrowed on her and the tension in the room mounted.

“This is my shop. You need to leave.” Leo stood directly in front of Daniel, purposely hiding her from view.

She stared at his broad back, studied how all of her could fit behind the massiveness of him. She was safe, protected. Reese had a hard time accepting that. No one stood up for her, no one watched out for her. No one until Leo.

“I just want to see Reese, that’s all. We’re friends.” Laughter and pleasantness dripped from Daniel’s words. He peeked around Leo to wink at her.

Leo’s shoulders went back and he stepped close enough to Daniel to loom over him. “I’m a better friend. Get out.”

“Okay, okay. Easy there, big guy. I’m going.”

The open vibe was gone, with hostility in its place, as Daniel walked backward toward the door. The farther he stepped away, the more he could see Reese. He didn’t take his eyes from her, and there was nothing warm about the way he now watched her. Leo caught the exchange and shifted to shield her from his gaze once more.

“See you around, Reese,” Daniel mockingly called out as he left.

The door banged shut and Reese jumped. She knew Daniel spoke the truth—she would see him again, and not by choice. She should have been submissive instead of publicly thwarting his advances. The one time she’d spent in his company was enough to let her know he had ego problems. But Leo’s presence made her courageous. There were no breaks, no luck to toss around where Reese was concerned.

They’d be back for her.

Leo said something to her, and she caught the words ‘thugs’ and ‘stay away,’ but an annoying buzz took over her eardrums and drowned him out. She moved away, glad when the door opened and their client arrived. She caught her boss’s frown and retreated further into herself. A shield of numbness started at the top of her head and carefully weaved its way down the rest of her, blocking out worry and fear, and even Leo. She couldn’t deal with her present, so she didn’t.

The good thing about Sunday was that the tattoo shop was closed and she wouldn’t have to see Leo. But then, because fate hated her, the dryer in her apartment decided not to work. She didn’t want to call Leo, and because his control freak attitude wouldn’t let anyone else mess with things around the apartment building, there was no maintenance guy, and that made him the only one she could call.