Come to Me Recklessly (23 page)

“Do you have no recollection of what went on tonight? What was said?”

She swallowed, and my eyes darted to watch the movement along her delicate neck. “I remember being at your house, talking about Stewart, lying in your bed.” Her brow cinched in sadness. Then she slipped right back into that nervousness that bounced her knee. “But then I blacked out.”

A groan of anger and sexual frustration rumbled in my chest, and I inched even closer. I clutched the back of her neck, my fingers in her hair and my thumb running along the angle of her jaw. The words were raw, abraded. “After everything that happened tonight, the parts you do remember, you honestly believe that I’d turn around and take advantage of you?”

My voice dropped like a threat. “I can promise you one thing, Samantha.” I leaned in close to her ear. “When I fuck you, you’re damned well going to remember it.”

On a gasp, she made to pull away, but I held her tight, forcing her to look at me.

“You didn’t black out. You fell asleep. In my arms.” I fingered the neckline of her shirt. “These clothes you’re wearing… they never came off. I’d never hurt you like that.”

Her expression hardened, the same as her words. “Wouldn’t you?”

Shame sliced through me, cutting me in two as she threw the biggest mistake of my life in my face. “That person wasn’t me, Samantha. Back then… everything was being taken from me, everything important stripped away. Most importantly you. I lost it. But I never would have —”

She cut me off. “I trusted you.” Like a barrier, her eyes dropped closed, and she shook her head. “I’m not sure if I can ever fully trust you again.”

“Are you in love with him?”

She jerked with the change of subject, her eyes flying open. “Ben respects me. Cares about me.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

But I didn’t need an answer, because I saw it all over her face, saw it in the way she looked at me like my question caused her physical pain.

He was nothing more than a security blanket. Something easy when she didn’t want to face all the important shit that was hard.

She’d never stopped loving me, and I’d bet that she’d never come close to really
loving
him. Not the way she did me.

She just refused to acknowledge it.

She unlatched the door, fisting the handle. “I already told you, you don’t get to do this to me. I told you we could try to be friends, but I don’t know if I can handle all of this.” Agitated, she gestured between us. “What you did… what I
saw
. That can’t be erased and that hurt can’t be undone. It scarred me in ways I’m not sure you can ever really understand.”

Confusion knitted my brow as the deepest hurt swam in her eyes. “What in the hell are you talking about, Samantha?”

Disbelief coated her coarse laughter. “You can be a real asshole, you know that?” She climbed down from the truck, stood there with the overhead light shining down on her face, her lips pressing into a hard line.

My confusion thickened, and I raced back through every memory, trying to get to the one she was talking about.
What she saw?

She continued, uncertainty and affection woven in her tone. “Then you go and show me you can be the sweetest man. How do I know which one’s real?”

“Let me prove it to you.”

“I have a boyfriend, Christopher, someone who was there for me when you weren’t.”

“Let me be there for you now.”

Shaking her head, she backed away, like she was drawing an invisible line. “I don’t think I can be anything more than friends with you. And sometimes even that seems impossible.”

Impossible.
 

Now, that I agreed with.

But I wasn’t about to concede to what she was saying. That she couldn’t tolerate being in my space.

“I can’t deal with any more tonight,” she finally said, cutting off my dissent. “My head hurts and I just want to lie down.”

I gave her one terse nod, because I was pretty sure tonight she wouldn’t accept anything I had to say, and she shut the door and ran up her sidewalk to her house, glancing back once before she ducked inside.

Movement rustled at the side of the window, her silhouette blanketed in the sway of the sheer drapes as she peeked out at me. When she dropped them, I threw my truck in gear and forced myself to drive away.

Five minutes later I was pulling up the driveway of my house. The faintest hue of light threatened at the horizon, the last minutes of the night clinging to the darkened sky. Without her in it, the house echoed back the loneliness, the stifling quiet more than I could bear. I went straight for the shower in the bathroom adjoining my room, turned it on high as I peeled off my clothes.

I half sighed, half grunted when I freed my erection that had been raging all night.

With my eyes closed, I stepped into the spray.

I could still smell her, hear her, and that mouth was smiling as I imagined her dancing just for me.

I banged my forehead against the cold tiles. “Fucking Samantha,” I groaned.

Fucking Samantha.
 

She made me insane, tore me to shreds, and I knew she was the only one who could piece me back together.

I gripped myself, making hard, punishing strokes up and down my length.

Since the night I’d kissed her, I hadn’t touched another girl, and I came fast, moaning her name toward the ceiling.

The entire time, I imagined just what it was going to feel like when I finally got to make love to her for the first time.

We’d been robbed of it. Something that was supposed to be special. Just for us. What no one else could ever have.

A promise of firsts and lasts, because we were supposed to be forever.

Standing there, panting like a teenager, I made another promise.

This time I promised her God I was taking her back.

Samantha slid up my body and draped herself across my chest. Uncontrolled, my heart hammered, my racing pulse skipping beats, a thunder of love and devotion pounding through my veins.

I’d never imagined I could share something so intense with another person.

Feel so close to someone.

Like we were connected on another level.

And we hadn’t even had sex.

Did I want to? Did it just about kill me to stop when she was offering herself up?

Hell yeah.

But I respected her way too much for that.

But this? Maybe it was even better.

Telling her I loved her for the first time and knowing she trusted me… knowing I could trust myself with her… made me feel like someone different. Like someone I wanted to be.

Gentling my fingers through the locks of her still damp hair, I kissed the top of her head. Contentment seeped from between those lips that had been my complete undoing. “I love you,” I murmured quietly, reiterating the admission that had come so naturally.

I’d finally realized it when the worst kind of fear had torn through me when I saw her floundering in the pool. It’d been a physical type of pain. Gripping. Suffocating. There’d been zero hesitation, and I’d jumped in after her.

I hadn’t come close to understanding just how severe her fear was until I’d dragged her out. Weeping and trembling and completely in shock, Samantha had fallen to pieces in my arms. It’d killed me seeing her like that.

What I really wanted was to kill the person who was responsible for it.

I squeezed Samantha protectively.

Jasmine.
 

That fucking bitch.

I’d never met anyone so vile. So vicious. Every chance she got, she was in my face. Unrelenting. Acting like a temptress when really she made me want to puke. She was so delusional she believed she could somehow lure me away from the best girl in the world.

Not a chance.

Samantha had nailed it.

Jasmine had made her the target of her jealousy because somehow that bitch had her sights set on me, like she thought me different from any of the other guys she’d gotten on her knees for.

Her mission had become making Samantha miserable.

But even I couldn’t believe what Jasmine had pulled tonight.

Soft fingers trailed along my collarbone. “I love you so much,” Samantha whispered, peeking up at me.

“You’re my world, Samantha. Everything I do, from now until the end of time, I’m going to be doing for you.” I leaned in, kissed her with all the tenderness I felt for her. And that was the thing with this girl. She made me feel
good
, like just being around her made me part of something greater. Something bigger than all the empty, frivolous ambitions that fueled the thoughts and actions of most of the people I hung out with.

What used to fuel me.

Samantha had all these beliefs that there was something greater than just this world that I’d never given much thought to, permitting little time or credit to ideas that seemed so ambiguous. But she had this light about her that I was drawn to, and I saw it in her little brother, too, something different and unique that I’d come to crave. I wanted to see it glow in Stewart when I did or said something that brought him joy, to watch it burn in Samantha when she just sat and appreciated the sky.

I found myself wanting to contribute to it. Be a part of it.

Guess there was something in her that made me want to believe.

She made me better in all those places inside me I’d never really liked. I’d always been a selfish kid. A punk who liked stirring up trouble just for the fun of it, getting a rise out of the people around me purely for my pleasure. Didn’t want to be like that anymore.

I hugged her again. “We’d better get you home.”

She nodded like she really didn’t want to go, but she let me help her stand. I resituated her clothes. The deepest blush rushed all over her face as her thoughts so obviously strayed back to ten minutes earlier when we were partaking in things that weren’t all that
innocent
.

But this girl was mine and I was hers, and I couldn’t find one thing wrong with that.

I threaded my fingers with hers. “You ready?”

Nervousness flitted across her face, and she squeezed my hand. “I think so.”

“I won’t let her hurt you ever again, Samantha. I promise you.”

Nodding, she snuggled up to my side. “I know you won’t.”

I led her across the room, unlocked the door, swung it open.

Ben Carrington stood on the other side, his fist raised like he was getting ready to pound on the wood. A sneer transformed his face when he saw me standing there.

The fiercest swell of possessiveness rose inside me, squeezing my lungs about as tight as I squeezed Samantha’s hand. I edged in front of her, like I could cut off the asshole’s view. “What are you doing here?”

His brow creased and he cocked his head to the side. “What am I doing here? I think the better question is what is Samantha doing here?”

“She’s with me.”

He scoffed. “Yeah. And do her parents know that?”

Samantha wriggled out from behind me, still clutching my hand but moving toward Ben. I wanted to yank her back. “Just… don’t, Ben. You always make things a bigger deal than they are. Christopher was just taking me home.”

“Really? Because it seems like a pretty big deal to me when you’re at a party, locked in a room with this piece of shit, when you’re supposed to be at home asleep in your bed.”

Panic shook her, and she took a pleading step forward. “Please, you can’t tell them.”

Frustration billowed from the sigh he released toward the ceiling, as if he were dealing with a disobedient kid. He set his hands on his hips. “Did I make you a promise, Samantha? I told you before I wouldn’t tell them. And I won’t. But what I won’t tolerate is you sneaking out with this asshole. I can’t even believe you’re here. I’m really disappointed in you.”

She hung her head in shame, chewing at her lip while she stared at her feet.

My fist curled. I wanted nothing more than to mash the guy in the face. He knew nothing about her, nothing about her dreams and desires, that she needed a little freedom to figure out who she was and what she wanted to be.

So no, bringing her here wasn’t my best idea.

But he was acting like she’d just robbed a bank.

“She’s fine.” The words came out with a challenge.

“Doesn’t look that way to me.” He gestured with his chin to Samantha, whose clothes were still all damp, her hair tangled, more from my fingers twisted in it than anything else, but he sure as hell didn’t need to know that.

“I was just taking her home.”

He shook his head. “Wrong. I’m taking her home.”

I bristled and took a step forward, just hating the bastard. What it was about him, I didn’t know, but he rubbed me wrong in every kind of way. The way he treated Samantha like a little girl but looked at her like he wanted to eat her. Nah, he wasn’t all that much older than us, but something about him was off. Like he got off on her cowering to his will.

I smiled when this time she didn’t. “No, Ben, you’re not taking me home. Christopher is. And we’re leaving. I’m tired and I just want to go home.”

In irritation, the corner of his mouth twitched, and he gulped down whatever thoughts he was having. “No more of this,” he warned her, but his tone was soft, like he was trying to convince her of what was best for her. “You don’t belong here, and I don’t want to hear about you sneaking out with him again.”

She nodded, then pulled at my hand.

Every part of me wanted to turn around and put him in his place. But Samantha didn’t view him the way I did. Clearly she revered him on some level, respected his position with her family, appreciated his words.

I didn’t trust him for a second.

I slipped my arm around Samantha’s waist, glanced back at Ben right before we hit the top of the stairs. Smug, he stood there with his arms across his chest, like he held a straight flush and had just laid down his hand.

Protectively, or maybe it was just to rub it in, I pulled Samantha closer, and she buried her face in my side when we hit the stairs. That protectiveness lifted and rose, rumbling like a storm in my chest as I led her back down into the depravity of the scene where I never should have brought her.

I could give Ben that much.

Samantha didn’t belong here.

Beauty shouldn’t be exposed to trash like this.

With my free hand, I guarded her face when we were met with all the curious stares. Jasmine leaned against the wall. When we walked by, her mouth coiled with a satisfied smirk, making her look like the snake she was.

She didn’t dare say a word, because I was pretty damned sure she knew from my expression I would have snapped.

Outside, the night had grown deep, the air crisp and cool. Chills flashed across Samantha’s skin.

“Damn it.” I wrapped both my arms around her in an effort to get her warm. “I should have found you a change of clothes before I brought you back out.”

She smiled up at me, her face aglow, illuminated in the half-moon. “I’m perfect, Christopher.” She turned her face toward it. “Even after everything, tonight was kind of amazing, wasn’t it?”

I chuckled, dropped a kiss to her forehead. God, yes. Fucking incredible. “You’re amazing.”

“You just love me, so you’re blind,” she teased, knocking her hip into mine while she walked.

I hugged her close. “Not blind… but the love thing you got down pat.”

I helped her into my car and drove the two miles to her neighborhood. I parked at the head of her street, cut the lights, and went around to meet her at the door. Our footsteps were subdued as we made our way toward her house so I could sneak her safely back through her window. Same way I’d done what felt like a million times before.

But tonight the lights weren’t all dimmed. Every light in the house blazed through the windows. Samantha gasped when she saw her mom standing on the sidewalk in her robe, her arms crossed over her chest, clinging to herself as if she were trying to protect herself from an outcome she didn’t want to face.

“Mom.” Samantha started to run for her, her sandals smacking on the pavement, fear in her voice. “Is Stewart okay?”

Her mom jerked her head up. Relief flashed across her face, which had already been stained with tears. “Yes, yes, Stewart’s fine. Thank God you’re okay. I’ve been worried sick about you.” She hugged Samantha, then pushed her back, holding her by the tops of her arms, and that relief twisted to anger.

Five feet away, I stopped. Panic surged.

“Do you have any idea what I’ve been through tonight? I went in your room and you weren’t there… I… I thought something terrible had happened to you.” Her mouth trembled. “Don’t you think we have enough stress, enough worries with your brother? And you’re going to put us through
this
?”

“Momma,” Samantha begged with desperate apology in her voice. “I wasn’t trying to hurt you.”

The front door opened, and her father stepped out behind them. He shut the door with a low click. Probably an inch or two shorter than me, he was still tall, but he was also thin, his build unthreatening. Even the way he carried himself was unassuming, modest and simple, his head held in a permanent bow.

But it was the silent rage brewing in his eyes that told me I had every right to be scared.

Shit.
 

I wet my lips, having no idea what to say, because I’d just been caught red-handed with his daughter. Samantha had lied up and down about the two of us, swearing we were nothing more than friends so I could get into their house and have those few hours with Stewart in the afternoons, so I could be at her side, tortured with not being able to touch her, but satisfied in knowing I’d be alone with her soon.

It was blatantly obvious there wasn’t a lie in the world that could get us out of this.

Her father’s voice was cold. “Go inside, Samantha.”

“Dad,” she pled, reaching for him.

He stopped her with a disappointed hand. “Do not argue with me, Samantha. There is nothing left for you to say. Now, go inside and to your room. You’re going to be in it for a very long time.”

Dread knotted in my stomach, and I chanced a step forward. “Please, Mr. Schultz. It was my fault.”

His attention jerked to me. “Yes, I completely agree with you. This is one hundred percent your fault. My daughter was always obedient until the day she started spending time with the likes of you. You think I haven’t seen the way she’s changed in the last few months? All of it’s your fault.”

Samantha’s mom heaved out a sob and her hand flew to her mouth. “Have you been drinking?”

Flustered, Samantha frowned. “What? No, of course not.”

I saw the second it dawned on Samantha’s face. The fucking beer that slut had dumped on her had soiled her clothes with the stink of alcohol.

This just got worse and worse.

Samantha’s mom clearly mistook the shift in Samantha’s expression as some kind of guilt. “I’m done with all the lies, Samantha. No more. It ends now.” She pointed between me and Samantha. “All of it. It ends now.”

Stumbling back, Samantha shook her head in short, furious jerks. “No.”

Her father answered for her mother. “You have no say in this. You’ve already proven you can’t be trusted. You made the choice to disobey and now you have to face the consequences.”

She swung around, her fist pounding at her chest. “What choice? You never gave me the choice! You give me no freedom at all… no room to experience life, no room to make mistakes. This isn’t fair!”

I took a step forward, my hand extended toward her, knowing she was only making it worse. “Samantha… baby, don’t.”

Mr. Schultz pushed her behind him, his angry words directed at me. “She’s not your concern.”

He was completely wrong. She was my only concern.

He looked at his wife. “Sally, take her inside and see that she gets changed into some warm clothes.”

Mrs. Schultz nodded and shuffled forward, nudging Samantha toward the door. In yearning, Samantha looked back at me. Fear and worry were etched all over her sweet face.