Descended (The Red Blindfold Book 2) (17 page)

I’d been suppressing
my hurt for hours. It came flooding back now in a rush that brought
tears to my eyes. “I don’t want you to be somebody else. I want
what we had before.”

His shoulders squared.
“You’re not suited to that kind of life,” he said, as if trying
to convince us both. “You question everything. You’ll always keep
part of yourself hidden from me.”

I frowned, my defenses
erupting. “How can you say that? You know me like no one else.”

“Do I? I told you
what fidelity means to me, but as soon as we ran into a rough patch
you baited me with a waiter. You say I know you, but I don’t know
that woman at all.”

Crossing my arms, I
turned in my seat to face him. “You were the one who reserved
separate rooms, remember? I had no idea whether we were together or
not.”

“As I said, I thought
you might need space. You’d been through a lot.”

“
I
needed space, Marc? Or you did, because you didn’t know how to act
if you couldn’t dominate me?”

Though his eyes
narrowed, his expression didn’t change. “Either way, seducing a
waiter wasn’t the way to find out.”

“Isn’t it obvious
why I did it?” I said. “I couldn’t get your attention any other
way.”

“But it wasn’t just
last night,” he said, putting his glass down with a thud. “You
met with Lydia. You let your ex-boyfriend into my apartment, where he
almost raped you. Most of our problems have come from you keeping
secrets. Why should I trust you? Why would the future be any
different?”

My mind reeled, casting
around for a way to convince him. “I thought if I talked to Lydia
I’d understand you better.”

“But the only person
you understand better is Lydia, who has a history of destructive
behavior. And while we’re on the subject, why didn’t you tell me
Trevor was in Paris? Did you still –” Mouth twitching, he shook
his head. “Did you still have feelings for him?”

“Yes,” I said. “I
felt regret that I ever met him. I felt repulsed and bored. I didn’t
tell you he was in Paris because I didn’t want to complicate
things.”

“Whatever the reason,
you made a promise to me and you broke it.”

I felt a hard jolt of
remorse. I’d have given anything to undo the damage, but it was too
late. “I’m sorry.”

He tipped my chin up
with one finger and looked at me. “Maybe I’ve been too much for
you. You felt you couldn’t trust me. From now on, I promise to do
what’s right.”

“Which is?”

“I won’t be the way
I was. I won’t fuck up people’s lives.”

“So last night –
that was a new you?”

Firelight glowed in his
eyes like an internal flame. “It’ll get better. I just need time.
Can you give me that?”

I looked down at my
lap. It was late, and his father was in the hospital. I couldn’t
tell him what I really thought about time, and things getting better.

“Let’s talk more tomorrow,” I
said, pushing back my chair. “It’s been a long day. We should get
some sleep.”

During the night he was
warm and erect against my ass, his arms tight around my ribs. The
moon was still high in the sky. Though we hadn’t made love before
falling asleep, he’d curved naked around me and nuzzled my neck.

We were still in the
same position, but now I could feel stress emanating from his body
like heat.

I turned my head to
look at him. “Are you okay?” I whispered.

“I keep expecting my
phone to ring,” he said. His mouth was on my neck, just below my
hairline. I quivered against him, unable to keep my hips still. He
squeezed the dip of my waist, his fingers almost touching across my
navel.

“You’re so tiny,”
he whispered. “So sexy I can’t sleep.”

Nipples stiffening, I
arched my back. “Do you want me?”

His hands were so tight
around my waist I could barely breathe. “Beyond belief,” he said
against my ear.

“Take me, then.”

“I can’t,” he
said.

“Yes, you can.”

I pressed my backside
against his erection and felt it throb in response. My pussy was
already swollen and open, pulsing with desire.

“I wouldn’t be able
to control myself,” he said. “I can feel it.”

“That’s all right.”

He rolled onto his back
with a huff. “Tomorrow, okay? I don’t like what this is doing to
me.”

“No, not tomorrow.
Tonight.”

Even in the dark I
could tell his resolve was shaky. “I want you too much right now,”
he said. “I couldn’t even sleep.”

“There’s no such
thing as too much,” I said, sliding next to him. I bent over and
pressed my lips to his chest. His heartbeat thrummed under my
fingers.

“Sophie,” he said.
“Don’t.”

Mouth soft and wet, I
kissed across his honed stomach to the tender place below his
abdomen. It smelled of musk and sandalwood and sweet sex.

Though he pushed at my
shoulders, his huge shaft stood straight and stiff, straining for my
touch. Parting my lips, I sucked the thick, swollen head against my
teeth and tongue.

“Jesus,” he
groaned, but he didn’t try to pull away.

With every stroke he
swelled into my mouth. I slid firmly up and down his full length,
letting him fill my throat, then capturing his engorged tip between
my lips.

“Do you like it?” I
whispered.

He made a rough animal
sound and pressed his palms around my head, his thigh muscles bulging
under my hands. Hope surged through me. Maybe I could convince him
with temptation. All I had to do was keep reminding him how
incredible we were together – when he didn’t stand in the way.

But then, so quickly I
hardly knew what was happening, he sat up and grabbed my shoulders.
In one swift motion he rolled me onto my stomach and got on top of
me.

“Marc, what are you
–?”

“Shhh. It’s all
right.”

He pushed my legs as
far apart as they would go and lifted my hips in the air. I needed
him so much that I lifted my ass toward him, inviting him to take
what he wanted. Thrusting his huge erection into me, he fucked me
mercilessly, as if to prove what he’d said about losing control. I
grasped the sheets in my fists, my face pressed into the mattress.

It was exciting, it
felt incredible, and it wasn’t what I wanted. This wasn’t the man
I’d come to love and trust.

With harsh, impatient
strokes he rammed into me, making me cry out in shock as much as
pleasure. Like last night at the hotel, it was a staggering display
of male strength, and it was only physical.

Gone was the sizzling
connection that ignited whenever we glanced at each other. This was
Marc trying to be someone he wasn’t, and failing miserably.

He came with a sharp
cry, his thrusts driving my legs apart until I thought they’d
break. When his body stopped shuddering he wrapped an arm around me,
his damp, heaving chest pressed to my back.

“Let me go,” I said
in a dry whisper.

“What?”

“I said, let me go.”

He dropped his arm and
slid away as if I’d slapped him. I turned to face the wall, my
hands balled tightly to my stomach.

“I’m sorry,” he
said. “I shouldn’t have let that happen.”

It took everything I
had to respond calmly. “You said it would get better.”

“I also said that if
you continued to tempt me, I’d lose control,” he said. “And
that’s what happened.”

“Bullshit,” I said,
my voice icy. “The problem isn’t that you lost control, it’s
that you didn’t lose it at all. You weren’t yourself, not even
close.”

“Of course I was.”

I snorted. “Don’t
try to con me, Marc. You’re talking to somebody who knows how to
shut down as well as you do. If you want to keep this crap up, do it
with somebody else.”

I felt him move closer.
Shutting my eyes, I braced for his touch. And when it came, warm and
light on my spine, every fiber of my body screamed for more. Even now
my response was automatic, an instinct fixed permanently in my brain.

“I told you I need
time,” he said in a near-whisper.

I marshalled my last
atom of willpower. “We’re out of time, Marc. I should have gone
home last week.”

As if in silent
agreement, he said nothing. His hand stayed where it was, then
gradually fell away.

“Was it this hard
with the women before me?” I asked, turning to face him.

He was lying on his
back staring at the ceiling. “No. It was a lot easier.”

“Why?”

“They didn’t get to
me. This thing between us – I can’t wrap my head around it. All I
know is that you matter to me, a hell of a lot.”

I swallowed down the
impulse to cry. “Then why are you pushing me away?”

“I’m saving you.
You just don’t realize it yet.” His jaw was rigid, his arms
crossed like armor over his chest. “How many ways can I say it? I’m
not going to hurt you again. I’m not going to damage you.”

“Even if it means
living without me?”

He turned his head
toward me. His eyes were hard as stone. “I hope you don’t make
that choice. I hope you care enough to be patient.”

“Caring isn’t the
problem,” I said. “Don’t you see that?”

When he didn’t
respond, I rolled back toward the wall and stared blankly into the
darkness. It was almost dawn before my body grew heavy and I escaped
into a restless sleep.

Marc got up a few hours
later, pulling on his jeans in the faint gray light. “I got a text
from Eleanor,” he said. “My father’s conscious.”

I was instantly awake.
“He is?”

“Yes. He already
wants to come home.”

“I’ll go with you,”
I said, throwing off the brocade cover. “I just need a minute to
get dressed.”

He stood in front of
the mirror, sweeping his thick hair back with his hands. “Why don’t
you stay here and catch up on your assignments?”

My breath stopped at
his tone. It was so casual, but so cold. “Stay here?”

He shrugged. “You
must be behind after everything that’s happened.”

I sat slowly back
against the headboard. Daylight had magnified the strain between us,
which hung in the air like a fog. And now he wanted to go to the
hospital without me.

Why was I surprised?
This was probably just the beginning of the fallout from last night’s
fiasco.

“You want me to stay
here alone?” I asked.

“Better to spend the
day here than a depressing sick ward,” he said, without meeting my
eyes. “You’ll waste hours watching my father get poked and
prodded.”

“I do have work
piling up,” I said, concealing my hurt behind a business-like tone.

Though we’d seen only
two houses with Matthew, I could piece together an article if I
interviewed a couple of his buyers over the phone. I took my phone
off the nightstand and texted him, hoping he’d respond this
morning.

“Awake three minutes
and you’re working already,” Marc said, shrugging on a
herringbone blazer over a white button-down. Even his smile was
different this morning, tighter and less open.

“All done.” I set
the phone aside and slid back under the sheets.

“You’ll be okay
here by yourself?”

“As long as I have an
internet connection, I’m fine.”

I could see the relief
in his face. I wasn’t going to be a whiny weight around his neck.
“I should be back by late afternoon.”

“Do you mind if I
take a few more pictures in the library?”

“Have at it,” he
said. “Maybe while you’re there you’ll find Sade’s missing
letter, the one I told you about. It’s probably been right in front
of us all these years.”

“What does it look
like?” I asked.

“It’s a page of
parchment, addressed to someone named Dubront. Some of the ink is
smeared. It was probably thrown out by mistake, but there’s always
a chance.”

“I’ll keep an eye
out,” I said.

The old heat flared
between us when he leaned over to kiss me goodbye. I was still naked
from last night, and the moment I felt his lips on mine I was wet for
him. But just as I opened my mouth for his tongue he pulled away, his
expression flat.

“I’ll call you later,” he
said, and left.

For an hour I lay in
bed, paralyzed with despair.

Now I understood why
Marc had drifted from one shallow fling to the next. Except for a few
brief periods in his life, this was the man he’d always been –
tortured and unreachable.

Tears streamed across
my temples. How had this happened? Marc was the only man I’d ever
let myself love, and he was unattainable. Maybe I’d subconsciously
chosen him, just like I’d chosen Trevor.

I groaned, suddenly
sure the whole disaster was my fault.

Deep down, I’d tried
to avoid pain by picking a messed-up, tormented man who would never
let me in. In some twisted way it made perfect sense. After all, I
couldn’t lose what was never mine to begin with.

My phone chimed as a
text came in from Matthew. He had two couples who could talk to me
this morning about their home searches. Forcing myself out of bed, I
got dressed and splashed water on my face. After a mug of black
coffee I slipped into survival mode, setting up my laptop on a desk
in the reading room and taking refuge in work.

By noon, I’d finished
the phone interviews and jotted down a rough draft. It would be one
page at most – a quick revision and I could send it to Katherine by
nine New York time. She’d never know that I’d written it in a
stupor with my heart in pieces, every sentence an excruciating chore.

Madeleine came to clean
and drop off groceries, then left again. Just after she drove off in
the gray drizzle, I got a text from Marc.

Dad
still disoriented but doing better. Back around four.

Indifferent, remote,
nothing but the facts. He hadn’t even bothered to call. Whatever
hope I had left evaporated, leaving a knot in my throat. I gritted my
teeth against a wave of anguish.