18
Logan
It’s dark by the time I decide to stop for the night. We’ve been driving all day, and I’ve been quietly freaking out the entire time.
At the rate we’re going, we’ll be reaching Carmelo far too soon. And I don’t even have the beginning of a plan.
All day long, I’ve been struggling with extremes. Wanting to reassure her. Wanting to find the words to force tears from her eyes. Wanting to hold her. Wanting to take off my belt and let her have it.
Instead, I just ignored her.
And I got the feeling, as I watched her out of the corner of my eye, that I couldn’t have devised a worse punishment.
Well, good.
She’s been through shit, I guess, but I have too. I’ve suffered so goddamn much, and it was all because of her. Am I supposed to just forgive and forget twenty-seven broken bones and a shattered heart because she went through a tough time after?
Bullshit. That doesn’t earn her a get-out-of-jail-free card. Nothing earns her that.
_
The only way I survived these past two years was by adhering to one strict rule.
Don’t see her.
Damien was wrong. I didn’t stalk her. I stalked her house. I bought an apartment on the other side of the street, and any minute I wasn’t on family business, I was watching the ugly brick cube with its long, narrow windows that Carmelo calls home.
She spent a whole lot of time in that house, and I spent a whole lot of time watching it and imagining what she was doing inside.
What does a snake do when she’s gone domestic? I have no fucking idea. I imagined her cooking terrible food, or leaving burn marks when she ironed, or maybe, spending all her time glued to the TV. But none of those theories felt right. None of them felt like Lia.
It was so fucking hard not to see her. Not to know what she was doing. But I realized that if I ever laid eyes on her, it would destroy me.
She left her house very infrequently, and the curtains were always closed, so even if I had wanted to catch a glimpse of her, it would have been nearly impossible.
I knew the one time every week she left her house.
She went to the supermarket on Saturdays at ten a.m., and so, every Saturday, at 9:55, I’d avert my eyes while she walked out of her house with the kid.
Then I’d listen for the sound of the car as she drove it away.
Ten minutes later, I’d follow, parking in front of the store, knowing she was inside.
What kind of groceries does a snake buy?
Apples, probably. I imagined my snake loading up a grocery cart with apples, all of them perfectly red and shiny on the outside but rotten to the core. I’d wait in that parking lot for twenty minutes before driving away, knowing she wouldn’t be long.
Then I’d time it so I was back in my apartment minutes before she entered her house, and I’d make sure to avert my eyes again during the short trip she took from her car to the front door.
It was a very strange day, the day she never left her house.
For all my stalking, I’d somehow missed her escape.
It was torture, trying not to dwell on why she had left.
I forced myself to accept that she’d decided being stuck in a house with only a weekly supermarket excursion to break the monotony wasn’t her idea of happily married life.
Well, good. She should have thought of that before she fucked and married the first guy who wasn’t me.
Only she didn’t.
She was raped.
Now we’re stopping for the night, and that means I’m going to have to deal with her, and I have no fucking idea how to even begin to do that.
I park the car in front of the motel I’ve chosen, stalk around to the passenger door, whip it open, and grab her upper arm.
She’s half-asleep when I yank her out. I crush her to me before knocking on the back window.
“Get the kid out of the car,” I growl to Everest as he rubs his eyes.
Then I lead Lia to a small office which a flicker of light tells me is occupied.
I pay for two rooms, one of them with a crib.
“Stay right here,” I mutter, going back to the car for the suitcases.
“Okay.” She licks her lips, now fully awake, watching me return with the suitcases. “Can I sleep with Aurora tonight?”
I can tell she’s scared of me.
And I am furious. I don’t think my anger is directed at her, at least, not most of it. But I’m aware that I can come off as pretty damn scary.
I can’t find it in me to reassure her, though.
“The kid’s gonna be staying in the other room with Everest.” Her worried eyes grow confused as I add, “There’s a crib in there.”
“A crib?” she repeats, frowning.
“Isn’t she supposed to sleep in one? I sure fucking hope so, because I just paid extra for that shit.”
“Uhm…” She blinks. “I guess so. But Carmelo never got her a crib.”
I tense at the sound of his name on her tongue. “Well, I paid for one, so she’s gonna fucking sleep in it.”
I slam the door behind me before she can protest again. Everest has just brought in the kid, who’s sleeping after having spent much of the car ride awake and babbling loudly. He sets her down in her crib, then looks around.
“Where’s your girl?”
“She’s not my fucking girl,” I hiss. “And she’s in the other room. You’re sleeping here.”
“Fine,” he shrugs.
I turn abruptly away, heading to the other room, already regretting that I’ve decided on this sleeping arrangement, because I have no fucking idea how I’m supposed to face her.
But she’s decided I won’t have to, in the most literal sense of the word. When I return to the other room, her face is turned to the opposite wall, and she’s on her knees, stark-naked, her arms up with fingers laced over her head. The same position I made her take back at the villa.
“What the fuck?” I growl, hurriedly shutting the door behind me.
“I was… waiting for you.” She swallows nervously.
I edge into the room slowly, eyeing her—or, rather, her ass, since she’s facing the other way—with distrust. I’m so pissed off that not even the sight of her naked body is enough to take the edge off my anger. “What are you doing, Lia? Turn the fuck around.”
“Oh… okay.” She awkwardly turns, still on her knees, her fingers still laced over her head. She clears her throat then begins again. “I wanted to… to tell you. He didn’t rape me.”
I arch an eyebrow. “Uh huh.”
“I know that’s what you were thinking. That I was raped. I saw that you were… disgusted with me. And—”
“I wasn’t disgusted,” I interrupt, sitting on the bed opposite her. “Why the fuck would I be disgusted?”
“Fine.” She doesn’t sound like she believes me. “I’m not lying to you, Logan,” she adds, blinking her green eyes up at me. “He didn’t touch me.”
“So what, you got pregnant on your own? Like a fucking snail or something?”
“No, I mean… he didn’t… he didn’t defile me. I’m not tainted. I only had sex once in my entire life, apart from with you. I swear, Logan.”
“You only had sex once,” I echo in disbelief. “Sure, Lia. You know what? It doesn’t matter. Let’s go to bed.”
“Please.” Her voice takes on a desperate quality. “I need you to believe me.” Her contact lenses are foggy with tears, and I stare at her in utter confusion. “Please, I just need you to believe that nothing like that happened. I… I’m not saying I’m a virgin. But almost. I’m almost a virgin.”
I snort. “Your dad really did a number on you, didn’t he?”
“Wh-what?”
“Where are you getting that kind of bullshit from? I don’t give a fuck what you are or what you aren’t, or what you’ve done or haven’t done. What’s this purity talk? Is that what your daddy taught you?”
“Uhm…” She swallows in confusion, then frowns at me. “But you do care, don’t you? You were happy to learn I hadn’t had sex back then. You are angry I’m with Carmelo. Aren’t you, Logan?”
It’s my turn to hesitate. I don’t want to tell her the truth. I couldn’t trust my own voice if I had to say those words out loud.
I always figured we’d be each other’s firsts.
But that sounds so sad, so stupid. And it’s in the past, anyway. It’s too late now.
“I’m not angry about that,” I lie to her. “It is what it is. The ship has sailed.”
For once, the sight of the tear rolling down her cheek doesn’t make me hard.
“But he didn’t rape me, Logan,” she insists. “I’m still… I’m still whole. The ship doesn’t need to have sailed.”
“You’re married to another man, Lia.”
She bites down on her lower lip, at last bringing down her hands to wipe her cheeks.
Okay, I lied. I realize, just as she’s wiped it away, that the tear did make me hard. Very fucking hard.
It’s a delayed hard-on, caused not just by the tear, but by her words, sinking into me at last.
He didn’t rape me.
Fuck, that feels good to hear.
Of course, not because of the bullshit reasons she gave me. I didn’t look at her as though she was tainted or defiled. But believing she’d been raped had thrown me off completely.
As much as I tried to tell myself it didn’t absolve her of her sins… how the hell can you be cruel to a girl who’s survived something like that?
And I do so love being cruel to her.
“Did I tell you to put your hands down?” I growl, and she startles.
“Uhm… you want me to… to…”
“Hands up,” I rasp.
She quickly laces her fingers back over her head, squeezing her legs together and looking up at me, her lips parted, her face flushed pink.
Goddammit, she’s beautiful. Now that the anger and confusion in me has eased, I allow my eyes to take her in.
Her red curly hair tumbles around her face, and in her eyes as they look up at me, flecks of yellow and blue sparkle in the fluorescent light.
Her breasts are still puffy and red from the way I slapped and pinched them before.
I can’t see the bruise and the redness on her ass from this position, but I can imagine it.
In this moment, I don’t care how fucked I am. I need this girl so much.
Standing up, I unzip my fly and pull down my briefs and pants. Then I wrap my hand around the base of my cock, pumping it and directing it to her lips.
Grabbing her by the neck, I shove her back against the wall, and push into her roughly, shoving my cock into her mouth.