The virgin, p.12
The Virgin, page 12
“I know.”
He paused and looked back at me.
I focused on the fire, stunned by how much lighter I felt, just by saying those words out loud. I’d never been able to do it before, even though I’d told myself I accepted that fact years before. Over the past month especially, I’d been coming to realize just how blind I’d been in my rage toward Drake. Closing my eyes, I pressed my head to the pillowed side of the chair. “It took me a very long time to be able to see that. I blamed myself. I blamed you. I blamed your family.”
His gaze cut toward me and I laughed. “Please, Drake. It was Gallagher Enterprises that authorized the project...not just you.” Sighing, I tipped my head back and stared up at the endless expanse of sky overhead. “I blamed my mother. I blamed the cops for not finding us, not realizing those guys were out there. I blamed the security guards for not realizing what I was saying sooner. And I did blame the men who grabbed me. But it took a long time for me to stop blaming everybody else around me, everybody who’d been in my life around that time.” I plucked at a loose thread on the blanket, forcing the last of the words out. “Including my father.”
The boards under his feet creaked and I looked up, watched as he settled across from me.
“Your father.”
“Yes.” Tears stung my eyes. Impatient, I dashed them away. “He was the reason we went to Florida. He talked about the money. He trusted too many people and that was the reason he ended up in a bad way to begin with, why we had to sell out anyway. Yes, I blamed him. I blamed you. I blamed everybody.”
Clutching the blanket, I stood up and went to the railing and stared out over the water, watching as it crashed into the beach. “Most of all, I blamed myself.”
He joined me at the railing, his eyes on the rolling surf. “Why?”
“I lived. He didn’t. They battered him. I had bruised ribs and a bruised kidney. Oh...and skinned knees from where I fell. You couldn’t even recognize him when they were done with him.” Turning my head, I stared at him, swallowing so I could speak around the knot in my throat. “It’s been ten years. And the clearest image I have in my head of my dad is the way he looked that last day, his face bruised and his mouth busted open. Most of those came from the times when I couldn’t stop myself from screaming. I can’t see my father the way I want to. Those are the clearest memories I have of him, no matter what I do. I can’t cut those images out of my head.”
He moved then, so fast I couldn’t even prepare for it. His hands plunged into my hair, tugging my head back until all I could see was his face. “And is that what he’d want? Would he want that to be how you remember him?”
“It doesn’t matter. I can’t get it out of my head! I did that to him. For weeks before that happened, I didn’t want to talk to him. Not to him, to Mom. I hid in my room, or in the hotel and stared outside, feeling sorry for myself. Because they had done what they could to make sure I’d be taken care of.” I curled my lip, glaring at him. “Poor little Shan. Her parents were in the hole so bad. Then a rich guy comes and buys up their hotel. Now we’ve got lots of money and what am I’m twisted up over? You.”
I jerked away from him, ignoring the nauseating way my head pitched and rolled.
Stumbling away, I curled my hands over the railing, tried to steady my knees. “I hated everybody.”
“You had a right to hate me,” he said, his voice hard as stone.
“No.” I had to get this out. The poison inside me had festered for too long. “A right to be angry...maybe. I still don’t understand why you wasted your time with me, but that’s neither here nor there. I didn’t need to hate your family, my parents, the cops...or myself. I’ve been trapped for ten years and I’m tired of it.”
Unable to stand there any more, I turned away.
He didn’t follow me.
I can’t decide if I was happy about that or not.
MORNING CAME. TOO BRIGHT, and as far as I was concerned, too early.
Squinting against the light shining through my window, I groaned as the pounding continued inside my head and tried to think about the fact that I had to go out there. Face Drake. Figure out how to get out of this place, figure out what to do next.
At some point in the next few days, I had to make it down to Florida.
Thinking was so hard, though, and the ache in my skull only made it worse.
What do you want to do? That small voice inside my head murmured to me and I closed my eyes.
What did I want?
Slowly, I rolled to an upright position and stared outside, gazing out over the rolling waters. They called to me. The ocean always had. Even the beaches of Florida had beckoned to me, but nothing like it did here.
Home.
What I wanted?
That was easy.
It was this.
This place.
On the rare occasion I had happier dreams, it was of this. On the rare occasion I let myself think about what-if? I imagined myself here. Building something here, making something that mattered. All I’d ever wanted.
I wanted this. I wanted home.
And...
An ache settled in my throat.
Drake.
Still.
Always.
It was what you wanted.
This beautiful place, like he’d reached inside me and captured my dreams, brought them to life; he’d done it because I’d wanted it. He’d come back here, hoping to find me. That meant something, didn’t it?
Was it foolishness to hope we still had a chance?
Just the thought of it was enough to make my heart race. Enough to make my palms go damp while the yearning swamped me. Every time I’d woken up alone over the years, some part of me had wished for...something. No. Not something. That empty void inside me had a name and only he could fill it.
They say youthful infatuations are fleeting, that they never last.
But mine turned into an obsession...a love that haunted me even now.
A chance.
Sliding off the bed, I moved to stand in front of the mirror, studying my reflection. It hadn’t been all that long ago that I had stood in Philly, staring at my reflection critically, wondering if he’d see the girl I’d been under the layers of sophistication I’d developed over the years.
I’d been fooling myself to think that he wouldn’t see that girl.
She was still there. Under a thick layer of bitterness, anger and hurt, she was still there. I could see her clearer now. I could even feel her. Maybe it was because something had pierced that layer of bitterness.
I could see her—see me. Nothing had ever been more clear in that moment, standing in the dark, wearing Drake’s button-up shirt and a pair of his boxers that bagged around my waist. Scowling, I looked down at myself, realizing I’d been wearing the same clothes since I’d arrived here—how long had it been? Thirty six hours, maybe?
It seemed about right.
I needed to think. I needed to clear my head. And I really, really needed a shower.
I spent a good twenty minutes under the hot, pounding spray. I came to one conclusion.
It was time. Time to start over. Time to reach for a second chance. Here, back where everything had started. Here, with Drake.
Although the water was hot, goosebumps raced across my flesh while my belly clenched. There was a tight, hot knot there and I groaned, leaning back against the tiles. They were heated by the water and their warmth seeped into me, turning my already loose muscles into putty. My breath hitched in my chest and my heartbeat raced.
I wanted to start over.
I wanted a chance with Drake.
Was I going to go do this?
I didn’t know.
The thought of it terrified me.
The thought of not doing it terrified me more.
It was that thought that pushed me to turn off the water, to reach for one of the towels, hanging on a heated rod. I wrapped it around my body and then grabbed another, drying the water from my hair. My hands were shaking the entire time though. As I dried my hair, as I wrapped the towel around my head, as I finished toweling off and as I slicked some of the lotion I found on the counter over my skin.
Even as I brushed my teeth, I could see how my hands shook. When I finished, I reached for the towel and let my wet hair spill down around my face, using my hand to finger comb through the loose curls, wincing as I felt the lump that had ended up putting me in this predicament.
Once I’d finished, I lowered my hands to the counter and stood there, staring at my reflection.
“Pull yourself together,” I said to the woman in the mirror.
Without waiting to see if she took my advice, I adjusted the damp towel back around my torso and turned to the door.
Chapter Five
COOL AIR KISSED MY flesh as I opened the door and moved into the wide open living room. There was a fire roaring in the stone hearth and in front of it, sprawled in a chair was Drake. The golden light from the fire set the deep red of his hair to flame and he was lost in thought, staring into the glass of bourbon he held in front of him.
I stood there, watching as he lifted it, looking down into it without drinking it.
I took a step forward and froze as his gaze cut to me.
It was like the fire in the hearth reached out to lick my flesh. I was flaming hot, and all because he’d looked at me.
The wooden floor under my feet was the only thing that felt cool. Even the air was supercharged, heated against my skin as I took another step, then another. Soon, there was no more steps left to take and I stood in front of him, wearing nothing but the towel, looking down at him while he swirled the whiskey in his glass and then tossed it back. “You should be resting.”
“I’ve done nothing but that for the past day and a half.” I reached out, touching the glass with my fingertip. There was barely a swallow left. “Can I?”
He gave it to me, his gaze burning on mine.
I lifted it to my lips and followed his example, tossing it back, relishing the heat as it burned down my throat. I put the glass down on the table next to his chair and then, straightening, I held his gaze and dropped the towel.
His eyes went black.
It was strange, but as I eased in, the nerves that rippled inside me faded. Bracing one knee beside his thigh, I rested a hand on his shoulder and then brought up my other knee. My heart knocked hard against my ribs and need was a scream in my blood. Lifting my other hand up, I slid them along the wall of his chest. My senses felt heightened, too much, so that the nubby fabric of his sweater abraded my palms. The sweater covered hard muscle and I could remember, so vividly, how it had felt to have him pressed against me.
“Shan.”
His hands gripped my waist. I could feel the imprint of each finger, the callouses an exquisite torture against my skin. But he didn’t pull me closer. He just waited. My breath caught in my throat as he stared at me.
“What are you doing?” he asked, his voice a gruff whisper.
“Doesn’t take much to figure out.” I pressed my mouth to his. “Not really.”
A groan rumbled out of him. His hands tightened. But his lips remained firm, unmoving, under mine. I caught his lower lip between my teeth and tugged. Then, slowly, I lifted my head and rested my brow against his. “I spent ten years alone, miserable with it. I’m tired of it.”
His green eyes held mine as I slid my hands down, worked them under the hem of his sweater.
Heated flesh met my palms as I dragged them upward, baring his chest. “I’m tired of wondering. I’m tired of wishing. I’m tired of dreaming. I’m tired of being lonely. I just want to...”
I stopped, biting my lip as the words froze in my throat. Instead of trying to force the words out, I pressed a kiss to his brow. Then the hard, carved line of one cheekbone. The other. I worked my way back to his mouth and said softly, “I want to feel. I’m tired of not feeling. You’re the only one who ever really made me feel anything.”
His hand tangled in my hair and my breath caught as he wrapped it around his fist. “Is that what this is about? You want to feel something?”
“I’ve always felt something with you.” We were so close, I could feel his breath dancing over my lips. I freed a hand and pressed it to his cheek. “Whether it was the way you dazzled me and made me burn inside ten years ago, or the hurt that came after. When I finally stopped hurting, I felt something else. I was mad...so mad.” Leaning in, I pressed my lips to his, rubbed them back and forth as a shiver raced down my spine. “I kept telling myself that anger was still there even up until...”
His hand molded over the back of my skull as the words died. I had to clear my throat before I could continue and when I did, I was no longer even sure what I’d started out to say. “I’m tired of existing in the past. I just want to start living again.”
I pressed my lips to his.
His fingers tangled almost painfully in my hair and his eyes glinted, sunlight shining through the fog. The only warning I had was the way his body tightened beneath mine. We moved and in a blink, we were flat on the low-lying table that stretched across the floor. His chest crushed me and I reached up, gripping his torso. My heart raced, desire, hunger ripping at me.
Need had vicious claws and it left me breathless. Drake braced one hand by my ear, raising his head to look down at me. “I can make you feel,” he rasped. Then he shoved up on his knees and tore his sweater away. He came back and I almost sobbed at the feel of him pressed against me.
A big, hard palm cupped my breast, his thumb circling my nipple.
I felt that—all the way down to my core where I already ached for him. I’d been empty, longing for him, for this, ever since I’d walked away.
Desperation roared inside me as he kissed a burning line down my neck to take my nipple in his mouth. At the same time, he cupped me in his hand. I cried out, reaching for him. He pushed two fingers inside me, twisted. “Shan,” he muttered.
I panted as he worked me closer and closer to orgasm, something that had been elusive until he’d taken me. Now, I raced toward him and as he sent me flying, just like that, his name echoed inside my mind, although I didn’t even have the breath to whisper it.
There was no time to catch my breath, either, because I hadn’t even had a chance to drift back down when he started to blaze another hot, open-mouthed trail down my torso, my belly, until he could nuzzle the curls between my thighs. Instinctively, I tensed even as he urged my thighs wider apart. “Feel this,” he said against my flesh, the caress of air against me another teasing torment.
Then he licked me, bold and demanding, stabbing at my clit while I twisted and shuddered. Beneath my back, the table was hard and unyielding. Against me, Drake was every bit as hard, and he wasn’t much more yielding than the wood, but those kisses...hot, hungry kisses against my pussy, his tongue taunting my flesh until I was arching up to meet each teasing flick.
Nothing else seemed to exist. Just the flickering flames as they danced across our skin, and his hands holding me tight as he worked his torturous magic on me.
I loved it, and I hated it because it wasn’t enough.
I reached down and fisted my hands in his hair, pulled insistently. Demands fought to form in my throat, but I couldn’t get anything out except, “You.”
He caught my clit between his teeth and tugged, humming against my swollen flesh.
“Drake, damn it...I want you.”
“You have me.”
Snarling, I twisted and arched against him and he laughed, started his way back up my body.
“You want to feel,” he said, bracing his weight above me. There was no laughter in his eyes now and his gaze was hot, molten. Quicksilver. “Feel what I’ve felt. Desperate. Frustrated. Dying for what you think you can never have.”
Stroking my hands down his chest, I toyed with the button of his jeans. “So I can’t have you?”
Under my hands, I felt the heavy column of his cock and yearning flooded me, wrapped itself around me. If he pulled away, I might cry. I might break. I might throw myself at him and beg—
“You can have whatever you want.”
I freed the button and fought with the zipper until I managed to drag it down over his length. “I want this,” I said once I’d freed him. Wrapping my hand around him, I stroked him, fumbling until I caught the rhythm and watched his eyes go opaque. “I want to feel you inside me. Now.”
He reached down and caught my hand, pinned it down by my head, pressed it there. “Now.”
The blunt tip of his cock probed between my thighs and I shifted, my breath catching as he slowly pushed inside. “Do you feel me now?” he demanded.
Twisting my hips, I tried to take him deeper. “Yes...” I groaned, closed my eyes. “More. Please.”
Instead, he withdrew until we were just barely connected. My eyes flew open and I stared up at him. “Drake.”
“Watch me. See me. I want to see you come apart, see you as I fill you.”
The rough, velvet timbre of his voice was another caress and I shuddered all over again as he started to push inside me. Again, he stopped without filling me, withdrawing and holding there, watching me. I tightened my grasp on his hand, digging my nails into his skin in desperation. He was going to drive me crazy—“Oh!”
He drove in hard, fast, deep. The sound of my cry bounced off the walls and then he did it again and again, while I lay there, open and helpless, craving every deep, ruthless twist of his hips. “Feel me,” he snarled, bending down to catch my mouth in a deep, drugging kiss. “Have me.”
His mouth left mine to kiss a burning path down my neck and there, at the curve where neck met shoulder, he sank his teeth in, sucking hard and fast, a delicious little suction that added another sensation to my already overloaded system.
He let go of my hand and shifted his grip, moving to hook my thighs over his elbows. I felt almost bruised from him now as he sank so deeply inside me. “Say my name,” he muttered against my ear.
