Chapter 12 #2
“Come on,” I said, gently taking her elbow.
She shifted the book, and I took it from her along with the shirt, placing them on the couch.
I went to take her elbow again but a step ahead of her, my hand slipped so that it caught her hand instead of her elbow.
I froze, my sight going to our hands before it flickered to her face.
She continued to stare at our hands, and I could see her wrestling with what it signified, the simple slip of limbs that meant so much more considering who we were to each other.
Prisoner and captor. Innocent and killer.
Sunshine and darkness. Opposites in every way, yet there was something there that I was having a difficult time denying and after years of burying myself in a dynasty that was crumbling and denying myself the pleasure of attachment, I didn’t think I wanted to ignore this.
Her fingers intertwined with mine, a slight smile lifting the worry in her features before her eyes met mine.
“A drink?”
I nodded, unable to make my mouth function. When I’d transformed from lethal killer to a man who couldn’t form words, I wasn’t certain, but it wasn’t a good sign.
“I suppose a glass of wine will do. Maybe a snack? That dinner Breaker gave me wasn’t up to par with what I expect from this luxury hotel.” And just like that, she was pulling me from my spot in the room out to the deck, sliding the doors open easily, as if she had lived here her entire life.
“Not up to par? It was pasta Bolognese from a restaurant in town.”
“Eh, not as good as the eggs and toast.” She sat with a flourish and tucked her legs under her.
“Noted. I’ll remember not to bother spending money at an upscale restaurant on you when you’re happy with scrambled eggs.”
Her laugh bounced against my ears. I rested on the rail, looking at her.
The moonlight spilled over my shoulder to highlight strands of white in her blonde hair, which she had clipped up with a dozen butterfly clips I had to assume Jill had bought her.
A few loose curls drifted in the breeze.
For a moment, my breath escaped, and I fought the reaction, knowing what it meant and hating it.
“Stay here,” I said, walking away, my footfalls heavy. “Don’t think about jumping or trying the stairs. You won’t make it far.”
“You never know,” she teased.
I left her there, signaling to Vin to keep an eye on her, but I trusted her even though I had no reason to.
She could be playing me, preying on my weakness, but that would mean she knew my weaknesses.
Considering smart mouthed women who talked too much and colored their hair pink were not my typical weaknesses, that seemed unlikely.
The kitchen was dark, so I threw the lights on and opened a bottle of wine.
After pouring her a glass, I rummaged through the refrigerator and found a block of cheese.
It was a juggling act to carry the plate of sliced cheese with crackers, her wine, and a fresh glass of scotch for me, but I managed.
Ava remained in the same spot, hugging her knees to her chest and staring out at the ocean.
I took the moment to consider what this was.
What I was doing bringing wine to my hostage and intending to hold her through the night.
I didn’t bother acknowledging the myriad of other things I was tempted to do to her.
This wasn’t right. It wasn’t me. My hold on the glasses tightened as I remembered who I was.
Ruthless, cunning, vicious. Not this man. Soft and weak.
“Emerson?” She had turned to me, her eyes keenly seeing my struggle. Lips lifting into an understanding smile, she said, “I’m not sure what we’re doing either.”
How she saw right through me was unnerving.
Rubbing her arms, she placed her cheek on her knees.
“I should hate you, but I don’t. I should fear you, but you make me feel safe.
Every rational thought I have disappears when we’re in the same room together.
I don’t know what that means but…” She bit her bottom lip, a crinkle forming between her eyes. “…I’m not so sure we should ignore it.”
She seemed so young, so vulnerable then, and I had to remind myself that she was young. Fifteen years my junior, no matter how mature she came across.
I forced my feet to move. “It’s just wine and cheese,” I said. “Don’t make it more than that.” Cold and blunt, more than I had intended.
“That’s better,” she said, snatching a piece of cheese when I put it on the table.
Her eyes rolled back, her neck tilting with them.
I couldn’t peel my sight from how sexy she looked, nor could I stop myself from imagining if that look was anywhere close to what she looked like in the throes of an orgasm.
I tore my eyes from her, sitting quickly and taking a drink.
“I love cheese,” she moaned.
Another gulp of my scotch. Fingers clenched on the glass. I needed to walk away, to send her back to her room, to avoid her until this was over. But I’d told myself that countless times and ignored that voice each time.
“All right,” she said. “Tell me how you met Jill. She didn’t divulge much and I’m curious.”
Chuckling, I shook my head at how easily she lifted the mood.
Like a ray of sunshine breaking through an overcast day.
Resting back in my chair, I decided to just let whatever this was happen.
I couldn’t fight it because I couldn’t deny how Ava affected me.
Bringing out a side of me I hadn’t known since before I’d turned my back on my brother and started my new life.
“She likes to think she’s mysterious,” I said. “I met Jill right after she graduated college. It was a few years after I set up shop here.”
“Did you sleep with her?”
My head jerked to hers, and I narrowed my eyes at her. “I thought I answered that. Why do you even care?”
Shrugging, she said, “She seems like your type.”
“And how do you know what my type is?” I asked, lowering my glass to the table.
“Tall, thin, brunette. Model figure with great fashion sense.” Her mouth twitched like she was denying a grin that wanted to emerge. She was toying with me, testing me. “Isn’t that what most mafia types like?”
She tossed the corner of cheese into her mouth and gave me a look that challenged me to say differently.
I couldn’t. She’d pegged me. At least what I’d always gone for—long legs, thick auburn hair, and tight designer dresses.
I’d sworn off red-heads since the debacle with Greyson, but I barely went for blondes unless they were too sexy to ignore.
But now. I wasn’t so sure I hadn’t looked for anything else because those things had led to meaningless affairs, one-night stands, sex in the back rooms of my clubs.
Never anything serious, never anything that would leave me hurt.
Not since the day that had changed my life.
I had hardened myself and never let a woman close enough to me to even consider falling for her.
The realization slammed into me like the waves pounding the surf. Because none of those things compared to Ava. There was a comfort with her I had missed. Like being home or the times with my brother before our rift. A familiarity, a sense of peace. Full when I’d been nothing but empty for so long.
“So you think I fucked Jill and she what? Just sticks around for the occasional shot at my bed when I’m looking for a piece of ass?”
Wine squirted from her mouth, and she caught it in her hand, her eyes wide with surprise and humor.
“That’s an attractive look. Is that how you won the bartender over?” I teased as she sucked the wine from her palm and wiped her mouth with her shirt.
“No,” she said, brushing her hands together to get the residue off. “I won him over with my cleavage and my adorable attitude.”
I threw my head back and laughed, something I hadn’t done in so long it felt good.
“So, do you really use Jill for booty calls?”
Brows raising, I said, “Booty calls? Does anyone say that anymore?”
“Do you?” She laced the question with something akin to a need for me to say no.
I rested my elbows on the table. “No. I do not. I have never slept with Jill and yes, you clearly know my type.”
Her smile dropped before returning, this time not reaching her eyes.
“At least, that’s what I thought my type was.” I swirled the alcohol in my glass, watching as it rose to the edge to escape. “I think I was wrong all these years.”
“Really?”
“Why do you pick up strangers and sleep with them, Ava?” I could turn the conversation just as quickly as she could.
An inhale, sharp and deep. “I told you. I don’t want attachment. Men are too needy.”
“Do you think you wanted nothing more because it scared you?”
“No,” she snapped.
“What kind of men do you like, wildcat?” I raised my eyes to see her, my reward a gorgeous crimson that rose in her cheeks.
“The kind I don’t have to take home,” she murmured. “Who take what I give them and leave.”
“Who won’t hurt you?” I was digging now, looking for a reason behind her nightmares. If it was a man who had cursed her with them. Who had hurt her.
Her brow quirked. “Isn’t that why you do the same thing, Emerson?
” Fuck. I didn’t know how she saw through me like that.
My teeth chomped down, straining the muscles in my face.
Ava inched closer to me. “Maybe we’re just two people who never knew what we wanted and always avoided telling ourselves we needed something different.
So we didn’t look and took what we could from people who wouldn’t fill that need because admitting it was missing in the first place would make us vulnerable.
And fuck if either of us ever wanted to be that way again. ”
I reeled back before I could catch myself. She had summarized all I’d just come to see in a few sentences. And she had admitted something that still didn’t tell me about the trauma in her past, but confirmed it was there.