Clipped Wings (20 page)

“I’ll be right back.” I snatched my clothes from the floor and locked myself in the bathroom.

I turned on the fan and ran the water, afraid I was going to crack under the pressure of my own fears and emotions. I had made a grave mistake. Now that I knew what it was like to be with him, how he erased everything, it would be impossible not to want more. But I knew that the moment he walked out my door, his armor would be back up, reinforced and fashioned out of titanium, nothing like the shattered glass cage I tried to hide inside.

I wet a washcloth and wiped away the residual evidence. Unsure of what would be waiting for me on the other side of the door, I dressed hastily. When I came out, he was pulling his shirt over his head.

“That was a really fucking bad idea,” he bit out.

I had stupidly hoped the afterglow would keep me in a blissfully warm state until tomorrow. His reaction wasn’t unexpected, but the shock of truth was like a slap in the face. “I know.”

“I’m still putting that tattoo on you.”

“I don’t want anyone else.”

“But we can’t do that again. Not until it’s done.”

“You’ve said that already.” I clasped my hands together, my focus on my bare feet.

“I’m just making sure we’re clear on that point.”

He was right in front of me, palms sliding along my neck, tilting my head back. He kissed me. It wasn’t soft. It was full of repressed anger and desperation. I understood completely where he was coming from. I felt it down to my bones.

“Do you want me to stay?”

“You probably shouldn’t.” I couldn’t look at him, afraid I would see the same hope reflected in his eyes that I heard in his voice. Hope was a dangerous emotion; it gave false confidence and made a person do unconscionable things.

“But do you want me to?”

“It will complicate things more.” I felt so vulnerable, exposed. I knew if he stayed, I would risk telling him my secrets, and he would find out what a coward I was. I wasn’t ready for him to know the truth. I was terrified it would chase him away.

Hayden sighed. He pulled a card out of his back pocket and flipped it over, handing it to me. A number was scribbled on the back. “That’s my cell. If you change your mind, I’m right across the street. I can be back here in two minutes.”

I held on to the card, committing the number to memory.

“You’ll come by the shop tomorrow?” He ran his fingers through my hair, like he couldn’t stop touching me.

“Okay.”

He dropped his hand and stepped away. The inches felt like miles. I walked him to the door. Hayden kissed me on the cheek and left.

My fingers were still curled around the doorknob. I rested my forehead against the jamb, breathing through the sudden spike of anxiety at Hayden’s departure. He would have stayed if I’d asked him to, but I was petrified of what he made me feel. After having no one for so long, the possibility of filling the emptiness was almost unimaginable.

I listened to the sound of his heavy boots as he retreated down the hall, putting more distance between us. My remorse rose like mist, ready to coalesce and drag me back into the past. The mistakes were my own doing; I was responsible for this impasse. I was the one who kept pulling Hayden closer only to push him away again. I’d told him to go, even though I hadn’t wanted him to. I’d done it last time, too.

I heard the floor creak outside my door. I closed my eyes and waited for the sound of his soles hitting the stairs, but there was nothing, no movement, just the thud of my heart in my ears. It looked like I wasn’t the only one who was conflicted. I didn’t want to lose this tenuous thing I’d found with him. If I let him leave, that might very well happen. I couldn’t allow it.

I took several steps down the hall and turned around. Shoved my hands in my pockets. It prevented me from knocking on her door before I could assess what I wanted and what was best. Even though Tenley echoed my lame-ass bullshit cop-out about complicating things, I didn’t believe she wanted me to leave. She absolved me of the responsibility of making the smarter decision when the door swung open.

“I change my mind.” She moved aside. “I want you to stay.”

I took a step toward her and hesitated. “You sure about that?”

“I’m sure.”

That was all the confirmation I needed. I was screwed anyway. Staying the night wouldn’t change what happened. But capitalizing on the current opportunity seemed like a good plan, since I made my stance clear on how things would shake down in the future.

I closed the door behind me. “What made you reconsider?”

“I like the way I feel when you’re here. I don’t want to lose that.” There was vulnerability in her confession, like it had been difficult to admit.

“Don’t expect to get much sleep tonight,” I warned, pinning her against the wall with my body.

“I thought you said just one time.” Her hands slid under my shirt and around my back.

“I meant one night.”

“You’re changing the rule?”

“Didn’t I tell you about the fine print?” I asked, working a knee between her thighs.

“Fine print?”

“Mm-hm.” My lips moved over her cheek to her ear. “Rules are subject to change.”

“Isn’t that convenient.” She pulled my shirt over my head and dropped it on the floor.

“It sure is.”

* * *

Sharp pricks on my chest interspersed with soft purring frayed the edge of sleep, pulling me from a dream I didn’t want to be in. I cracked an eyelid. The cat standing on my chest head-butted me in the chin and mewed.

“Mis?” I was so confused. Mischief ran away seven years ago. Panic gripped my chest; the possibility that my nightmare was a premonition of what was coming made it hard to breathe. I couldn’t get my brain to move past the images of blood spattered on the pale blue comforter, or the wall behind it. And there was someone beside me. A warm, soft body I felt compelled to protect. The dream began to fade as I became more lucid.

The room was dark, a slice of gray morning light cutting across the floor through a gap in the curtain, falling just short of the bed. But the bed wasn’t mine. I could tell by the feel of the sheets and the firmness of the mattress. I scratched the cat’s head as I worked to make sense of things. It was TK, not Mischief. She scampered across my pillow and jumped to the floor, landing with a soft thump. The fog in my brain dissipated. I was in Tenley’s bed. The body beside me was hers. We’d had sex twice. I wanted to do it again. Immediately.

My arm was pinned under her. Judging by the lack of feeling in my hand, I hadn’t moved since we’d crashed after Round Two. If I thought the first time had been intense, the second was like an explosion. A very lengthy, very satisfying explosion. If I was going to break the rule, I might as well obliterate it. Beyond the sex, staying the night at Tenley’s set a new precedent, one I wasn’t opposed to repeating. Maybe sleepovers weren’t so bad after all.

Tenley was curled up against me, her back along my side. I was in some serious trouble. I couldn’t make it another two months before getting inside her again. It felt too good.

She shivered in her sleep and I molded my body around hers; my cock nestled conveniently along the cleft of her ass. She made a little sound like maybe she didn’t mind and I wrapped my arm around her, cupping a breast. The unyielding steel of the barbell rested against my palm. I couldn’t wait until those piercings healed so I could show her how rewarding they were. Maybe we could make another loophole to facilitate that. I lay there for a few minutes, listening as her breathing grew shallower.

“Are you awake?” I burrowed through the wild tangle of hair and buried my nose in her neck. She smelled good, a fusion of vanilla and me.

“Mm. Hi.”

“Hi, yourself.” I kissed her shoulder. I liked this; waking up in her bed, wrapped around her. “How are you feeling?”

“Like I didn’t get much sleep.” She stretched out, and her ass pressed against my very ecstatic erection. “And sore in all the right places.”

“How sore?” My hand drifted from her breast down her stomach.

“Like I had incredible sex twice in a short period of time.”

My fingertips rested on her pelvic bone. “So I should back off?”

“I didn’t say that.” She covered my hand with hers, guiding it lower. I liked that she wasn’t shy about what she wanted. Getting her to voice it might take some work, but she didn’t have a problem showing me. It was unexpected and sexy.

“What time is it?” she asked with a soft moan.

I looked over at the nightstand. The glowing red numbers on the clock promised at least an hour before she had to leave to teach her class. I planned to make every second count. “It’s early still.”

“How early?”

“It’s not quite eight. We have lots of time.”

She rolled over and propped herself up, shoving pillows out of the way to seek confirmation. Her eyes went wide. “Oh God! I’m going to be late!”

She scrambled over me in all her naked glory, her sudden shift in mood a surprise. I caught her around the waist before she could fall face-first over the edge of the bed.

“Late for what? You don’t teach until ten on Wednesdays, right?” She was too busy freaking out to realize I’d memorized the schedule stuck to her fridge.

“I have a meeting with my advisor at nine. I’ll be kicked out of the program if I don’t make it on time.” She extricated herself from my grasp. Her nails bit into my arm as she struggled to free herself from the sheets twisted around her leg.

“For being late?” That didn’t seem logical. There had to be more to the story, but Tenley was too wound up to articulate it.

When her feet hit the floor, her right knee buckled. I sat up and threw my legs over the side of the bed, grabbing her hips to steady her. She was really fucking naked, her breasts right in my face, little jeweled barbells taunting me. When I averted my eyes downward, I was met with her bare kitty. She flicked on the bedside lamp, illuminating the room in a harsh glow. I let her go and blinked against the sudden brightness as Tenley crossed over to the closet, a slight hitch in her step.

Then I noticed her back. Scars littered her skin. She must have been in a serious accident to leave so much damage behind.

I’d felt them the night before; the divots. But I’d been too distracted to make sense of them. It looked like the Milky Way in the form of pale pink scars, marring her perfection. They traveled from her right shoulder down to her left hip in a diagonal spatter pattern, starting as a thin line and fanning out to the width of my hand. Physical suffering like that brought with it deep emotional wounds. Those took infinitely more time to heal.

Tenley’s sudden distress, combined with the tangible proof of her trauma, shut down my hormones. I retrieved my pants from the floor and pulled them on, tucking myself away. Pins and needles shot up my arm and I shook it out, trying to get the feeling back so I could button my jeans. I gave up when Tenley started rummaging through her closet, her movements panicky. Hangers clattered to the floor, clothes piling in a heap.

I came up behind her, getting a much better look at the severity of the scarring. It must have hurt like hell in the aftermath. “Hey.” I ran my palm gently across the marks on her back. “What happened to you?”

She spun around, her nakedness covered by the clothing hugged to her chest. Her fingers moved to her shoulder. She looked scared more than anything else.

I caressed her cheek with the back of my hand. “What kind of accident were you in?” She shied away from the touch. I didn’t like the heavy charge in the atmosphere. There were too many questions without answers. I had a feeling Tenley wouldn’t share them easily.

“I can’t do this with you right now,” she pleaded. Her eyes were watery and her bottom lip trembled. She looked like she was straddling the line between fear and anger, the latter a protective measure I was familiar with.

“Okay. We can talk about it later.” It wasn’t a topic she could avoid indefinitely, and I wanted her to know that. But for now I would let it go. When she shivered, I draped the robe hanging from her closet door over her shoulders. “Why don’t you have a shower and get ready?”

“I don’t have enough time. It takes a half hour to get there, and I’ll have to find parking.”

It didn’t take a genius to see she was fighting to keep it together. I took her face in my hands, keeping her focus on me. “We have plenty of time. Get ready and I’ll bring my car around.”

“I have to drive myself.” She sounded indignant.

“Says who? You’re too upset to drive.”

“I’m fine.”

“And I’m a fucking saint. Who do you think you’re kidding? Let me do this for you.”

“But I have to teach a class afterward and then I need to meet with my group and you have work.”

“I can rearrange appointments. I’ll pick you up when you’re done.”

“But . . . but . . .” she floundered.

Her breath came too fast, like she couldn’t get enough air, her hand at her throat. I recognized the signs for what they were. I remembered exactly what it felt like to have a panic attack. After my parents died, they were part of my routine for a long time.

“You need to breathe, kitten.”