Chapter Twenty-Two
Verity surfaced from sleep slowly, opened her eyes and stared at the unfamiliar ceiling. Her head felt stuffed with cotton-wool balls and she lay there for a few moments trying to confirm if she was indeed awake. Eventually, deciding that she really didn’t care, she pushed back the covers and swung her legs out of the bed.
The unfamiliar ceiling was attached to an equally unfamiliar but generously proportioned bedroom. Despite the size, it contained very little other than the bed. She shrugged to herself, what else did you really need in a bedroom?
As she got to her feet she noticed that she was wearing a white cotton shirt. A man’s shirt. A man’s shirt that was many, many sizes too big for her. The tails fell almost to her knees and the sleeves drooped over her hands. It took her a couple of attempts to push the cuffs back as far as her elbows and when she finally managed that feat of dexterity, she spotted a carefully taped bandage on her forearm. A couple of experiment prods told her that it wasn’t covering anything too serious and it slid away from her thoughts.
Her first stumbling steps revealed another bandage, this time on her left foot. Again, it didn’t seem to be accompanied by any sense of pain, and she found she wasn’t particularly curious to explore it any further, but her ankle refused to move in the traditionally expected fashion, which slowed her pace and caused her to limp.
That was annoying.
Nonetheless, she made it out of the bedroom without incident and into the main body of the apartment. The airy space was filled with the sort of muffled quiet that usually follows a heavy snowfall, with the same bright, unnatural glare reflecting from the highly polished surfaces.
It was several minutes before the basic question of, where am I? surfaced in her brain, her thoughts muted and slow under the same weighted blanket of silence. The decor around her was beautiful, but cold. Chrome and glass sparkled as though polished but never touched.
Dull sunlight drifted through floor to ceiling windows and beyond them she could see a wide balcony and the city beyond. How high up was she? As she moved closer she realised the windows were actually doors and she tried the handle, not really expecting it to move. To her surprise the sheet of glass shifted beneath her touch, perfectly weighted and requiring little more than a gentle nudge to swing wide open.
“You’re awake! How are you feeling?”
Verity turned her head towards the familiar voice. Cross was wearing suit trousers and a freshly pressed shirt. No tie, she noted and, for the first time ever, she could see signs of stubble on his jaw. Must be casual Friday, she decided. Wait? Was it Friday? She struggled for a moment to identify the day of the week and then her thoughts drifted away once again. Cross moved closer, his eyes watchful, as if he was waiting for something. Was she supposed to answer? Unable to recall the question she shook her head and asked one of her own.
“How long have I been asleep?”
“The doctor gave you a sedative, you’ve been out for about fourteen hours.”
“ Where am I?”
“My flat.” He gave a light shrug. “This is where I live when I’m not at the Club.”
Her attempt at a laugh came out as a grunt. “I don’t think anyone lives here, this place is a museum. They probably charge an entrance fee, but I think I’ve lost my purse.” She was aware that she wasn’t making a lot of sense, but couldn’t summon the will to care.
The draft through the open door raised goosebumps over her skin. She should be cold, she realised, dressed only in a shirt, but the appropriate sensation had yet to arrive. Distracted by a shimmer from outside she stepped through the door.
There was a pool!
Drawn towards the water she wandered out onto the broad terrace. Behind her she heard the sound of the door closing and footsteps as Cross followed her. Ignoring his presence she moved closer to the rippled surface of the water. Who had a pool, suspended all the way up here above the city?
“Careful.”
The word was quiet, but she could hear the tension in his tone. Was he worried about her? No, that couldn’t be right?
Hesitantly she dipped a toe in the water and found it heated to so close to blood temperature that she could barely feel it moving over her skin. Not bothering to remove the shirt she was wearing she stepped into the silken water, the wide steps taking her waist deep. Trailing her fingers through the surface she found the depth rapidly increasing until her feet left the floor.
Bringing her legs up in front of her she floated on her back, staring at the clouds drifting over the grey sky. All sounds of the city were blocked out by the water lapping over her ears. There was an eerie sense of peace and calm as she drifted further into the centre of the pool. A heavy raindrop disturbed the placid surface, sending a single droplet of water onto her face and she frowned. More rain started to fall and she sighed. It should feel cold, compared to the pool, but it didn’t. She didn’t feel cold or warm or happy or sad. She didn’t feel anything at all.
That should worry her. But it didn’t.
“Verity, come back inside, it’s raining.”
Water lapped at her ears, distorting his words but out of the corner of her eye she could see him unbuttoning his shirt, his mouth set in a grim line. Letting the water lift and turn her in his direction she watched him kick off his shoes, his eyes never leaving her face.
Part of her brain roused itself enough to remind her that she’d never seen him undressed before and even in her detached state she was able to acknowledge his impressive physique. Muscles shifted beneath his skin as he unbuttoned his trousers and pushed them down his legs. Clad only in his skin hugging underwear he stepped towards the pool.
Verity noticed the discarded clothing, strewn on the damp flagstones. They’d crease if he left them there too long, she thought. He’d hate that.
Seconds later he lowered himself into the water and swam across to her.
“It’s a little late in the year for a dip. Aren’t you cold?”
Verity shook her head but his expression didn’t change.
“Are you sure?” he asked, reaching out to touch her cheek.
“I don’t feel cold,” she replied, then added with a puzzled frown, “don’t feel anything at all.” That bothered her suddenly. The cloying numbness pressing in on her from all sides. She wanted to feel something; she needed to know she was awake, that she was still alive.
Swimming towards him she wound one arm around his neck and then wrapped her legs around his hips. He briefly disappeared beneath the surface as her unexpected weight settled on him, but resurfaced a moment later and flicked his hair back away from his face. Without a word, he wrapped one arm around her waist and kicked for the side of the pool, taking her along with him.
Once braced against the edge he turned towards her, looking like he was about to say something but Verity jerked his head closer before he had the chance. Not bothering with finesse she ground her mouth onto his, it wasn’t so much a kiss as a challenge, a demand for action. Cross flinched beneath the unexpected assault but didn’t pull away, the fingers of one hand tightening on the rim of the pool, holding them both steady while his other hand lightly cupped her bottom pulling her against him.
Verity tightened her legs around his hips and rubbed herself against him, feeling his immediate response, separated only by the thin fabric of his shorts. One hand still buried in his hair, she scratched the other down his back, and felt him hiss against her mouth.
Needing to feel skin on skin she ripped at the buttons of her shirt and jammed her fingers under his waistband, trying to free his growing erection but the sodden fabric hindered her attempts, clinging to his hips and for some reason Cross wasn’t helping, remaining passive to her attempts.
She growled in frustration, the farce of a kiss turning violent. Teeth clashed against lips and she could taste blood but couldn’t tell if it was hers or his.
The fingers in his hair clenched violently while the others dug into the muscle of his shoulder, sharp nails breaking the skin. She wanted to claw a reaction from him, to see that calm facade waiver for just a moment. She wanted him to fight back, to feel his fingers digging into her flesh. She wanted to feel him slam her against the tiles and take what she was offering. She wanted to feel him grinding deeper inside her.
She wanted to feel… to feel something… feel anything other than this suffocating sense of numbness.
His hand closed over her hand, untangling her fingers from his hair and pulling her away.
“What are you doing?”
“What does it look like I’m doing?”
He chuckled softly. “Agreed. You have made the ‘what’ perfectly clear. Perhaps I should have asked why?”
Verity tugged against his grip, trying to free her hand. “Does it matter? You never had problem fucking me before, whether I wanted it not.”
His eyes narrowed. “Oh you always wanted it. Let’s be honest about that at least.”
She opened her mouth to deny the allegation, but the lie wouldn’t form. Instead, she raised her chin. “So what’s the problem then?”
“I prefer my partners to be fully in the moment. To be present.” He tilted his head, his eyes locked onto her face, considering. “And you’re not really here, are you? Not completely. Where did you go, Verity?”
Verity shivered as unwanted memories teased at the edges of the numbing blanket covering her thoughts. Gritting her teeth she forced them back. Suddenly he felt too close, that evaluating gaze, too perceptive. She didn’t want to be seen.
A voice from the past whispered through her head and she jerked away: Hide! Don’t make a sound, they mustn’t know you’re here…
Cross was closer now, his hands settling on her shoulders as he loomed over her.
“Verity? What is it?”
“Nothing! I just want to…”
“Want what?”
“Feel something. Anything. I-I can’t…” She slammed a frustrated fist into the surface of the water sending up a wave of shining droplets.
His fingers softened and he shook his head. “You’ve been through a lot in the twenty four hours…” He let go of the side of the pool and shifted his arm under her knees. “Come on, let’s get you dry.”
Verity realised he was going to carry her back to dry land. She also realised, she really didn’t want that to happen. Lashing out blindly, she must have taken Cross by surprise because one fist connected solidly with his jaw.
He dropped her into the water with a splash and reeled away, muttering a curse. Verity stared at her fingers in shock. She’d split the skin over her knuckles and bright blood dripped from her fingers, staining the water. Delayed pain radiated through her hand and up her arm.
Pain. She clenched her fist and the sensation intensified.
She could feel that!
And it felt good!
Without thinking she stepped forward and swung again. But this time Cross was ready for her, easily evading her clumsy attack and grabbing her wrist.
Before she could make sense of what was happening, he’d spun her around and slammed her up against the concrete lip of the pool, twisting her arm up her back to hold her in place.
“What the hell are you doing?” he snarled, spitting blood onto the paving slab next to her face.
She twisted her head, shocked to see the anger spilling from him. He was always so calm, so in control. She had no words to reply and he pulled her arm higher until she was forced onto her tiptoes.
“Answer me!”
“I don’t know,” she whispered.
“You want to feel?” Cross snapped, “is that it?” Releasing her arm, he spun her around. “Well, we should definitely do something about that.”
Eyes wide with alarm, Verity shrank back against the tiles. “What do you mean?”
“Let’s give you something to feel, shall we!”