Undone (13 page)

"Far from it
,” Roan caustically bit out as he pulled into an empty parking space behind a rundown apartment building. "We're here." He was out of the truck before Sophie could say another word. Mutely she followed behind him.

Feeling as though she was being watched, Sophie stuck close to her rescuer's side,
practically a shadow, as they made their way up the four flights of stairs.

When they were finally in Roan’s apartment
, Sophie breathed a little easier, able to relax considerably as she silently assessed Roan’s living quarters. It didn't appear as though there was much to assess, seeing as the apartment was more studio than anything else. Sighting the living room/kitchen only a few yards from where she stood, Sophie imagined the bedroom and bathroom weren't that far off. But despite its limited space, there was something about the place that she found charming.

The multitude of picture frames and black and white photographs splattered against the walls gave it that charm. There was sports equipment by the one large window in the kitchen area, where even more picture frames crowded the
faux-marble counter top, on which a brown paper bag filled with groceries was poised ready to topple over at the slightest touch.

In the small living room space
, there were two black leather bean bag chairs and a small futon facing a thirty-two inch television that sat upon an entertainment center. Beside the entertainment center, there were two game consoles—a Wii system and a PS3. Adjacent to those was a small bookcase, about waist length, filled with DVDs and video games that could quite possibly rival Dylan's own impressive catalog.

Sophie inwardly grinned spotting the brand new limited edition
DeathRacer 4 Dylan and Noah had been clamoring about for the last month or so; her brothers would probably die if they knew Roan had one. DeathRacer 4 had sold out in only a few hours of its release and despite Dylan’s best efforts, going so far as to even camp out in front of Tricx the night it was set to be in stores, he’d been unlucky in getting his hands on one.

"You can take my bed
, I'll crash on the futon." Throwing the refrigerator door open, Roan took out a bottle of beer, twisted the cap off and brought it to his mouth, his dark gaze intent on Sophie. "Bathroom's in there,” he said, setting the bottle on the bar. "I'll get you a towel and a clean toothbrush if you want one."

"Uh
, yeah...thanks." Sophie answered, subdued now, no longer jonesing for a fight. Roan left and returned with the promised towel, a big violet fluffy number that looked impossibly plush, he handed it to her and wordlessly walked away.

Sophie looked at his retreating back, tempted to say something, anything to break the tension that now loomed like rainclouds. But words failed her. An overwhelming sense of shame began to fester in the pit of her abdomen, the pain grew in intensity as it journeyed to her chest, manifesting itself in the tears pooling
in her inky black eyes. She spun around, finding the bathroom just in time. She quietly closed the door behind her as the tears came.

There were truly no words to describe how she felt in that exact moment. But more than anything, Sophie hated how she'd treated Roan. What, she miserably wondered, could've possibly possessed her to act so irrationally? To say those hateful words? Instead of her eternal gratitude, she'd given Roan her scorn and derision. No wonder he was now abrupt with
her. Cold even. Sophie had driven him to that.

God, she was such a waste of space.

She came away from the door, heading for the shower stall she stopped short at the image of herself reflected in the small mirror above the sink. She looked like death warmed over. Limpid pools of onyx rimmed red and swollen stared back at her from a face that could've given the Grim Reaper a run for his money. Her ordinarily smooth caramel skin appeared sallow, the only color coming from the angry red bruise on her cheek. Her colorless lips appeared chapped and bruised. Her hair, slightly damp from the snow, lay limp against her face, skimming past her drooping shoulders.

She walked away from the mirror in disgust. She’d never hated herself more. Like a creeping fog, cold and thick, the depression set in again and this time, Sophie didn't have the strength or even the want to fight it. In the shower, beneath the skin scalding sprays of
water, she scratched her skin raw. In her manic actions, she was meticulous, scrubbing to an almost painful degree until she bled. The blood did not hinder her, only pushed her to do more. The water stung, within her wounds she created more wounds, fissures created by her tiny fingernails, from a hand that trembled terribly. The night's events, her actions, drove her completely mad. Sophie had little knowledge of the sobs that racked her body.

"Sophie!"

She was startled to hear her name from a voice that seemed far away. Vaguely she wondered how and when she'd even ended up on the bathtub floor. Willingly, silently, she allowed the older man to carry her out of the bathroom, wet, bleeding and utterly numb; they were both heedless of her nudity.

Sophie’s gaze remained on
the floorboards the entire time it took Roan to mend her wounds, paying extra care to her arms where most of the damage had been caused. She was grateful that Roan had enough tact not to ask or even mention the map of pale white scars that lay beneath the new ones.

Sophie was grateful to Roan for a lot of things.

When he made to dress her too, Sophie grabbed the sweater from his hands. "I…" She released a shuddering breath. God she thought she was all out of tears. "I can…I can do it."

"Sophie…"

Sophie shook her head vigorously, looking up with watery eyes, desperate eyes. "No…no, please Roan, I can't…I…no pity…please…please not from you…" The first sob that escaped released a maelstrom of soul-wrenching sobs that did not stop, could not stop, no matter how hard she tried.

She fought against the arms that came to envelope her. Swatted at the hands that gently cradled her head to a sturdy chest. Railed against that very same chest, the barrage of blows she attempted to throw were to no avail. The arms, the chest, the man retained a steady hold on Sophie’s person. Calm in the face of her violence. It was only then that Sophie truly gave into the anguish eating away at her young soul.

Much later, in the grey of the morning's light, they lay on Roan’s bed. Sophie’s cries having quieted to quivering sighs, rested her head on his pillow, her face and body turned away from the older man, who'd spooned her against his bulkier frame. Neither remarked on how perfectly right it felt in that moment. How well they fit.

At Sophie’s shiver, Roan was quick in tugging the burgundy coverlet over her, covering caramel skin that was not without its flaws. The vise that had formed around his heart when he'd seen her in that bathtub tightened just a little more and Roan fought to breathe through his own anguish. The tears stung the back of his eyes and he fought them back. God, how he fought them back! His hold around the woman in his arms tightened only to loosen considerably at the breathy whimper he received.

"I'm sorry,” he whispered, with so much meaning behind the gentle utterance. "Sophie, I'm so sorry."

"It's not your fault," she croaked
, her voice heavy with tears, "it was bound to happen again."

Again.

"Do your parents know?"

"No
.” She moved, turning around in Roan’s arms to face him. "No," she said again, her smile holding little warmth. "I've kept it to myself. It's our little secret now,
Ro
." Her nonchalance chilled Roan to the bone.

"Sophie…"

"Thank you.” Her breath so warm, she leaned in close and breathed a kiss against Roan’s lips. "Thank you for everything."

"
Soph…"

"Did I interrupt something between you and your blonde friend?" she asked
, suddenly changing the subject.

Roan frowned. "Sienna? No, why?"

"She had this look on her face. Like I interrupted a booty call or something." Her dark eyes gleamed in the graying darkness as she sensually moved her naked leg along Roan’s thigh, her hands caressing the smooth chest beneath her hands. "You can have me instead." Her tone took on a breathy quality that shot a bolt of lust through Roan’s groin, but he was quick to tamp it down.

"Don't
,” Roan uttered, taking hold of the hand creeping even lower.

"Why?" she asked
. “You want me.” The soft bed of her plush mouth was warm against his jaw and Roan inwardly groaned. "I can feel it,” she said, brazenly brushing her knee along the erection twitching in Roan’s jeans.

"Fuck!" he growled, sweeping Sophie beneath him in one fluid motion
. Roan pinioned her to the mattress, shackling her hands above her head. "Enough, Sophie."

Sophie craned her neck, peering up at the darkly fierce
eyes boring down at her and her breath caught. He was so handsome it hurt. Stubbled jaw, shaved head and those sinfully dark eyes gauged her every movement. Her heart clamored in her chest. Roan’s body was immense, hard brawn packed into an athletic physique that was capable of so much damage, as demonstrated earlier tonight with the bouncer. He'd been merciless. The image of him appearing so savage in that one moment fleeted across Sophie mind and she involuntarily shuddered. The ferocity she'd seen there both fascinated and terrified her; it wasn't unlike the expression that he wore now.

"Talk to me."

He had a beautiful mouth. Sophie couldn't help but notice, her gaze drifting. His lips were tinged pink, with the bottom lip slightly fuller than the top. The small imperfection, a pale scar adorning the side of the top lip, barely noticeable unless in close range, was irresistibly inviting. Sophie longed to close the short distance between them and lick that scar.

"Kiss me
,” she said shamelessly. Despite her rising color, she refused to be deterred.

"What’s gotten into you?"

"Obviously not you, or anyone else for that matter. But I’m sure we can change that. Kiss me, Roan."

“Goddamn it, Sophie! Enough with these games."

"One kiss and I promise I'll talk to you."

"One kiss?"

"Yes," she said, suddenly breathless, "just one."

With
her heart clamoring, Sophie watched through shuttered eyes as he lowered his head. When he reached out and cupped her face, sweeping her hair aside with calloused fingers, her reaction was instantaneous. She leaned into his touch, dizzy with anticipation she held her breath, waiting for his mouth to descend. The whisper of his lips felt like being electrocuted, a bolt of lightning sizzling down her very spine, the energy of which awakened every nerve in her body. Oh, but how Roan could kiss. Sophie ceased to think.

He moved his mouth above hers, sure and commanding, slipping his tongue between her lips
, a sensual plea that had her completely at his mercy. The caress of his tongue against hers was painstakingly slow as he waited for Sophie to follow his lead.

He kissed like Sophie imagined sex to feel like, a slow carnal push and pull that had heat rising to the surface of her skin while heat pulsed between her thighs. It was an explosion of sensations that had her body bowing, wantonly rising against him, opening her long legs to allow Roan to fall between the V of her thighs. The feel of jeans was rough against her skin, but the hard length straining inside them made the experience worthwhile. And just when Sophie worked her hands free of Roan’s hold, anxious to touch the hard muscles straining against
his smooth skin, she was painfully disappointed when he unexpectedly wrenched himself away.

"
Wha…" Sophie reached for him, but Roan was off the bed in a blink of an eye, frantically searching for something in his dresser.

"Put these on." He tossed a pile of clothes on the mattress only to promptly vacate the small bedroom soon after. It took Sophie only seconds to put on the black oversized hoodie and basketball shorts before she gave chase. She didn't have far to go, finding him seated on the futon, his dark head lowered in his hands
. Sophie cautiously approached.

"Hey
.” He raised his head, the expression on his face gave Sophie pause, halting her mid-stride. "Roan—"

He raised a hand
. "No more, Sophie. This goes nowhere unless I get some answers. I know you've been through enough shit tonight but I need you to tell me what's going on."

Sophie licked her lips. "There's nothing going on."

"What happened at Dust?"

She shrugged. "What usually happens at
Dust. Massive orgies. Lots of drugs. Awesome drinks served by hot waitresses. Sounds like a good time,” she said dismissively.

"You were almost raped
,” Roan said somberly, pained to see the color rush out of Sophie’s cheeks even as she fought to recover, to place the facade of nonchalance she'd been wearing back into place. Bearing witness to that inner struggle was Roan’s undoing.

"But I wasn't," she shrugged again, "thanks to you." Sophie brushed an intrusive strand of hair behind her ear, the gesture a telltale sign of her rising agitation. "You were quite the hero."

She’d closed herself off again. The mask was back in place now, the emotional walls that much higher.

Roan felt for her. "Pretending it didn't happen isn't going to make it go away. I know how scared you must've been. Talk to me, let me in...
please."

"So you can help me, right? I talk to you, I let you in and you try a hand at playing Dr. Phil? No thanks, Roan. I already have a psychiatrist who gets paid an arm and a leg from the bank of Nicholas Grayson to fix me. So if I need to talk, I'll go to him."