Chapter 28
twenty-eight
It’s possible I’ve lost my mind.
So far, I don’t miss it.
If I were my usual self—overthinking, strategizing, weighing the morality of every minor shift—there’s no way I would have this trembling, beautiful woman next to me. Quivering in silence as I drive us to my apartment.
I tell myself it’s the only way, knowing that’s a lie. A flimsy one that would fall apart if I only pulled on a thread or two.
We could have stayed at the hospital. I could take her to a hotel. Or, hell, put her on one of our private planes.
But no. She’s here because I want her here.
Because I need her to know just how much I want her here.
And, goddamn it, I do. Despite the knife she sank into my gut when she told me to stop calling her sweet girl, complimenting her, or kissing her…
I want to see her, listen to her, hold her.
I want to take her out and spoil her.
I want to stay in and curl up with her.
Hearing her quiet laughs and feeling her soft lips on mine. Stripping her out of her mismatched clothing and dragging my mouth over every creamy curve and rosy blush.
While I lead her into the elevator to the thirty-ninth floor and turn for the junior penthouse, urgency roars in my veins. Nudging me harder on every heartbeat.
Now. Now. Now.
As my front door swings open, I even start to tell her that her time is up—she has to choose which path we’re going down.
But then I see her face.
Alice stands just outside the entrance, gaping with pure awe. Like she can’t believe she’s at my apartment. Or, maybe, like she can’t believe I’m here with her.
She stares right up at me, her features open and vulnerable. Full of heartbreaking confusion and a tinge of shimmering hope that tears the breath from my lungs.
It’s like I said before: I’m not worthy of a look like that. No one is.
Except maybe her. Despite everything she said at the hospital, Alice is still the purest, sweetest, wisest woman I’ve ever met. And so fucking beautiful, standing there with her heart on her sleeve and wariness in her eyes.
How can I stay mad at her?
Do I want to?
If anything, the fact that she thought I was duping her for the last three weeks only makes her more incredible.
All that time, she must have felt sick to her stomach with shame and hurt…
but she was kind. She welcomed me into her house and made me tea.
She shared her books and her brain. She worried about me so much that she showed up tonight with dinner.
One I sorely needed, considering I wolfed it down in the time it took her to call Tris and use the ladies’ room before we left.
Alice watches my throat work and catches the corner of her lower lip with her front teeth, worrying it. As if remembering where we are, she blinks quickly and then slides her gaze over the sparse furnishings half-filling the big, open space.
Her light laughter knocks the wind out of me. Dizzy relief rolls over us, breaking the tension stretched taut in the air.
“Oh boy,” she giggles, the sound musical. “Need a new decorator?”
It’s as bad as I thought, then. She smirks at my black leather sofa and the matching coffee table. Both of which could have come from a store exclusively for bachelors with no taste. Which, I suppose, is fitting.
I wonder if she notices my family’s dining table and the way it doesn’t coordinate with anything else. Or her—extremely erotic—book lying on my kitchen island with a bookmark situated toward the end.
“I’m hopeless.” I mean the words as a joke. A dark one, for me, given how true I know they often feel.
Alice shrugs delicately, moving with her captivating blend of poise and deliberation as she picks her way around the living space. Curiosity gets the better of her, and she turns to the bedroom’s double doors.
It’s still just a bed, a dresser, and some milk-crate nightstands, but at least it looks clean. My years in the Army ingrained the habit of making my bed every morning.
I wave her on, holding back a smirk. Normally, getting a woman into one’s bedroom is a game of sorts. I love that shit like that doesn’t even occur to Alice.
Still thinking about décor, she happily floats down the hallway before jerking to a stop once she’s inside. Her eyes widen at the array of weaponry laid out on my dresser. I hear the words she doesn’t say.
That’s a lot of guns.
When she looks back at me, I cock my head to the side and try for another wry smile.
Occupational hazard, baby.
Her answering grin flashes bright and burns out just as quickly. I hear a sticky, thick swallow. She looks down at her shoes and shifts, uneasy.
“A-about what I said before,” she starts. “I really didn’t mean to insult you. I’m so sorry I did.”
“Alice.” I move toward her, not stopping until I come close enough to mold my hand around her waist. The movement feels instinctive. It comes from some unfamiliar part of me that knows what she needs and aches to provide it.
I dare to drop my forehead to hers, relieved when she doesn’t flinch. Her eyes fall closed on a tense sigh, and my chest aches. She really doesn’t believe this is real.
“Do you want to tell me why you feel this way?” I ask, “Is there a reason you still don’t trust me?”
She casts one quick glance at my face before lowering her head again. “I—It’s not important.”
“The hell it isn’t,” I murmur, turning her to bring us front-to-front. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, but I think all your thoughts are important.”
I mean it. She isn’t the kind of person to fill her brain with idle, meaningless chatter. She’s brilliant and compassionate. Everything she’s shared with me so far hints at fathomless depths.
I have no doubt they’re as beautiful as they are unique. But I’ve barely scratched the surface. If I dare to dive, how deep does she go? Will she let me find out?
What the hell is holding her back?
Alice blows out a breath so quiet, most people probably wouldn’t have heard the way it quivers. “I, uh… I’m embarrassed. I don’t r-really know how things like this go. I haven’t…”
I wait intently as she takes a moment to gather herself. Sometimes, Alice needs that. Just one fucking minute to process and piece her words together. People often don’t give it her, and then they have the audacity to judge her for stammering or going silent. I will give her all the time she needs.
Finally, she exhales deeply and lifts her head, squeezing her eyes closed and pushing out words like ripping off a bandage. “I haven’t been alone with a man in his bedroom in a few years. And the last time…” Her voice dips and shrinks. “I-I thought he liked me, but it turned out he… didn’t.”
I’ll kill him.
I don’t care that I don’t even know the vague outline of the story yet. Anyone who puts that look on her face is getting strangled. Or shot.
“What—?”
She shakes her head, cutting off my growl. “It’s not important,” she says again. “Besides, I’m sure I’m completely misreading this whole—It’s weird for me to think you even want to—I mean, you’re probably tired, and I’m sure you don’t even want to—”
The thread binding me to my honor snaps.
It was already frayed from days of aching for her and hours spent reading her dirty books. But the heavy realization that she will never believe I actually want her until I show her finally does me in. Untethered, I pull her body flush with mine and bend to hover my lips over hers.
“I want to fuck you.”
The words are a breath, and Alice sucks them into her lungs on a gasp before I seal my mouth over hers.
Holy fuck.
She blooms for me.
The way a water lily opens—only under the dark cover of night, and with a slow, luxurious sort of grace. The petals of her lips brush over mine so softly that tingles spark in my chest, racing down to rouse every nerve below my belt.
That easily, she has me.
My hand moves up the back of her arm, over her shoulder, and into the warm hair at her nape. As my fingers tangle in her curls, I press her face closer, slowly sliding my tongue over her full lower lip.
She surprises me again, gliding out to meet me instead of retreating. The tip of her tongue tastes mine with short, delicate touches. Teasing me.
A growl builds in my chest as I snatch her off the ground, hauling her lush warmth into my arms and turning to toss her onto my bed.
A soft moan of surprise vibrates against my lips, but she doesn’t break away.
Her legs part for me while she slips her tongue around mine and locks her hands together at the back of my head.
I sink into her, groaning when my throbbing erection meets the softness between her thighs. I love the way she feels underneath me, her lush, feminine figure molding to all the planes of my body. Padding my hips, my abdomen, my chest. Her big, gorgeous breasts pressing into my shirt.
My hands roam up her sides, tracing the curves of her hips to the slight nip at her waist. Heat seeps from her body into mine, teasing my cock even more. When I shift and grind it into her hip, she gasps into my mouth.
“Your gun,” she says. “You forgot to take it out of your pants.”
Damn it, she’s so cute. Grinning, I brush my nose along hers. “That’s not a gun, sweet girl.”
Her wide gaze flutters. “Oh.”
“You’re so warm and soft and curved. My body loves the feel of yours.” It occurs to me that I’m not exactly displaying gallantry. I frame her face with my hands. “Do you want me to stop?”
Alice graces me with one of her hummingbird kisses. “No,” she whispers into my lips, slowly tilting her lower half against mine. “I—I like it.”
I watch in wonder as she tilts her hips against mine, gliding upward slowly, molding her core against my erection. Her hands trail over my torso with untold reverence, moving to unhook my buttons.
I still don’t know why she’s hesitating, but it’s clear she doesn’t trust me. Yet. She will, though. With every passing second, I am more determined. I will earn her.
I should be thinking about how.
But I can’t see anything apart from the admiration gilding her blue irises as she pushes the shirt off my shoulders. She gasps again, a little louder than before. “Marco…”
She starts at my shoulder, trailing over the healed pock marks. Shrapnel scars. They’re nearly invisible, but she feels them. Slowly and gingerly, her fingertips trace each one before gliding down to my chest.
Something about her touch tears right through me. My heart speeds while I absorb the guileless awe and concentration etched into her features. She looks mesmerized, memorizing pieces of me.
When she makes her way over each of my abs and skims the waistband of my pants, her pretty eyes flit up to my face, running over my expression on an anxious loop.
Which is when I notice the rusted smear along my hip.
Blood.
I didn’t think I had any on me—my tuxedo pants must have hidden the worst of it. Part of me braces, expecting Alice to recoil. But she just exhales quietly, shaking her head.
“I’m so sorry you had to go through that.”
There it is again; her selfless concern. For me.
An unfamiliar intensity burns through my body, spurring me onto my feet. With one hand, I flick the fly of my pants open, nodding over my shoulder.
Her breath shudders out of her as she tilts her head to take me in, her expression a compliment unto itself. No one has ever looked at me with so much raw desire, mixed with heartrending reverence. Wonder, almost.
It puts half a smile on my face as I walk backward. “I’m going to shower. If you make up your mind about what you want this to be, come find me.”