OVERPROTECTED (24 page)

His face scrunched in the light. “Are you okay?” he whispered.

I nodded, and hesitated before tiptoeing to him. His smooth skin looked like velvet against the white bedding.

“I’m sorry I woke you.” I kept my voice just above a whisper, my gaze flicking to Dad’s room, an ominous black space between the carpet and the bottom of the closed door.

“You didn’t.” Colin scratched his mussed hair. I wanted to touch it. “What happened?” he asked around a yawn.

“Dad demanded he and I leave the townhouse.” I searched for a place to sit. Colin pulled back the coverings on the opposite end of the couch, making room for me. I squeezed into the space, but my thigh still touched his toes.

“I gathered that much when I went to pick up my things,” Colin said.

“Did you see Mother?”

He nodded. “She was a wreck.” He studied me through caring eyes. “Jeez, I’m sorry Ash.” He shook his head.

“It’s okay.” I lied and the look of compassion on his face told me he saw through it. A fresh round of tears veiled my eyes. I buried my face in my hands, ashamed I was crying again.

The couch shifted beneath me, then his warm skin surrounded me. I burrowed my face into his neck. My arms wrapped around his back. He absorbed my tears, my weeping lost in his flesh.

He kissed the top of my head and the feeling of his mouth there drew my face up. His dark eyes penetrated me, sending want through my cells, need through my blood.

He swallowed. Against my chest, the taut planes of his bare torso lifted in an erratic rhythm. His head bent close, and my heart nearly burst waiting to feel his lips.

His mouth met mine in soft, sweet pressure. His skin, beneath my fingers was firm. Smooth. My hands spread out to feel the ridges of rib and muscle in his back, the strong curve of his spine. Moving toward me, he eased me into the cushions of the couch.

Sheets and blankets fell away, baring more long lean velvet, covered only by a pair of black boxers. He crouched toward me, as if he wanted to cover and consume me.

Pressed into the cushion, I felt like a delicate eggshell on a downy pillow. Colin’s hand skimmed down my neck, anchored to the side of my head, his other and mirrored the action. He stayed poised above me, his arms roped into strong shoulders, his head hovered over mine, eyes black.

Seconds sizzled into hot minutes. He seemed to decide what to do next. My body lifted toward his, magnetized. Lightly, the tips of my fingers drew over his shoulders, behind his neck and clasped.

He closed his eyes as if in excruciating pain. Then his dark eyes opened. “Ash.” his voice was hoarse.

“Kiss me again.”

He lowered toward me, the muscles in his arms shifting in the soft lamplight until his mouth met mine. This kiss was like the petals of one flower gently coaxing another to open and bloom.

After, he sat back and touched my face. “I’m going to hate myself for doing that.”

“I won’t. I wanted you to kiss me. I’ve wanted you to for a long time. Who cares if you work for Dad? He’s lied to me. He’s lied to Mom. He doesn’t deserve your loyalty.”

“I shouldn’t have kissed you, not here, not when you’re vulnerable.”

“Didn’t you want to kiss me?”

“Yes.” His hands broke free of mine and he fell back into the downy cushions, his hands shoved into his hair. “Yes, I wanted to.”

“I wanted it, too.”

The struggle he wrestled with became as apparent as if he suffered with a consuming fever, and I felt the first layer of weight for my part in making him go against something he’d held important.

“I’m sorry.” I could barely whisper, submerged with culpability.

I stood. He reached and took hold of my hand. “Ashlyn.” The gentle way he said my name melted as it seeped into my soul. I would never be able to numb the want I had for him, and seeing his body tangled in the sheets and blankets, his face turned up to me, urgency in his gaze, was an image I would never forget. I wanted him all to myself.

I woke hours later to a darkened room. Light peered through the solitary crack in the seam where blackout drapes came together over the window. The unfamiliar generic scent of the sheets I lay on reminded me that I wasn’t home in the townhouse, I was in a hotel.

Coffee scented the air. I found the clock, it was ten. I jerked upright. Why hadn’t Dad awakened me for school?

I tore back the sheets and stood. The night before, I’d overheard Dad tell Colin he had to be at the office early, so Dad was gone.

That meant Colin and I were alone.

The thought liquefied my bones.

I wanted to see him, but would he want to see me after last night?
Dress, Ashlyn. Dress for school.
But I’d forgotten to pack my uniform.

I tore through my open suitcase, even though I knew the uniform wasn’t there. I’d been so distracted by Mother and Daddy’s fight, school hadn’t entered my thought process in the slightest.

I washed my face, brushed my hair, and pinched my cheeks before opening the door. The aroma of coffee soothed, but I hesitated facing Colin. Is this what the morning after is like? I wondered. A stifled laugh sent goose bumps over my skin.
As if.

Movement in the kitchen drew my attention, so I crossed through the living room and entered the white and blue area. Colin wore jeans and a light gray, V-neck sweater, the sleeves pushed halfway up his forearms. He stood over the sink, washing out a glass coffee pot. When I entered, he turned.

His hands went still. “Hey.”

The usual sparkle in his eyes wasn’t there, and my heart sunk. I stayed in the doorframe. “Hey.”

“Coffee?” He nodded to a steaming cup he’d put aside.

“Thanks.” I stepped into the room and took the cup into my hands. “Why didn’t Dad wake me? I’m late for school.”

“Charles said not to. I guess he figured you’d need the sleep.”

“Can’t say I’m not glad.” I sipped the hot liquid. “I forgot my uniform.”

Colin rinsed the coffee pot and set it on a towel to dry. Then he turned, crossed his arms and leaned his hip against the sink. “I’ll have your things brought over.”

I frowned. How long did Dad plan on us being here? My gut hollowed. Mother had said they’d work this out.

Colin stepped toward me, and his hands covered mine. It was then I noticed my hands were shaking, the coffee in the cup sloshing like the tide of the ocean. His touch stilled the trembling on contact.

The connective fuse we’d woven last night sparked again. The flicker of desire I’d seen in his eyes before was there.

“What’s going to happen?”

He took a deep breath, shook his head. “I don’t know.”

“I can’t
not
see Mother.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault. But thank you for listening. And being here.

I’m sorry about last night. I would never make you do something you—”

“Ash, you didn’t
make
me do anything. This isn’t easy for me.”

“It’s not easy for me, either.”

He stepped close. “How am I going to resist you?”

Nothing came to my head. The fire racing through me had gone full circle and burned words into oblivion.

Colin. And me. Alone.

“If I’m not going to school today, then what?” I rasped. The stark image of him on the couch made me think of returning to the scene of last night’s kiss.

The kitchen walls suddenly seemed to close us in. The temperature spiked. He swallowed.

“We should get out of here,” he said.

I swallowed, nodded. “Let me get dressed.”

I showered, put on underwear and slipped into the cloudy, soft robe hanging in the bathroom. Fingering my hair back, I reached for the blow dryer but froze when the raised voices of Dad and Colin struck the air like a bolt of lightning.

I knotted the sash at my waist and opened the bedroom door.

Dad and Colin stood nose-to-nose in the living room. Dad wore one of his pristine suits, his skin the color of his scarlet tie. He stopped mid-sentence when I entered.

I folded my arms over my chest. “What’s going on?”

We stood in starched silence.

Dad glided over to me, glossing over the moment. “How did you sleep?”

“You need to talk to Mother,” I said.

“I’m on my lunch hour, and wanted to check on you. Colin’s going to arrange to have your things brought—”

“Wait. You’re really moving us here? For how long, Dad? We can’t live here. We have a home.”

“I’m not going to discuss this with you.” Dad placed his hands on my shoulders and I jerked out of his hold.

“When are you going to stop treating me like a child? Go home and talk to Mother. Work this out.”

The corner of Dad’s jaw knotted. “What’s happened between your mother and I isn’t your concern. That’s final.” He burned me with one, long glare and then turned and walked out the door.

I let out a growl. “He’s so infuriating.”

“You’ve made your feelings clear, Ash. This is their problem to solve, not yours.”

“I know that,” I paced. And that was what frustrated me—that I couldn’t force them to care about each other enough to work through it.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Dad’s unwillingness to try and work things out with Mother clawed at me the rest of the day, leaving me emotionally shredded. I had a hard time even bringing myself out of the mire to enjoy being with Colin. I should have been elated.

As we walked without aim, he kept a watchful eye on me. When we crossed a street, I felt the gentle pressure of his hand at my back.

Inside, my anxiety for my parents built, the pressure causing my heart to burn.

We stopped at a corner and Colin did his usually sweep of the crowds surrounding us when his head paused a moment, his gaze behind his black glasses aimed at something to our right.

I followed his keen attention but saw nothing in the busy, five-o-clock pedestrian traffic. It always got darker faster in the city, the mammoth buildings and their shadows adding deeper abyss to the falling twilight.

“What?” I asked.

“Nothing.”

The streetlight changed and he guided me along with the crowd of people. My cell phone vibrated in my pocket. I hoped it was Mother, I hadn’t heard from her since earlier, and I wondered how she was holding up.

Felicity’s mother’s phone number appeared. “Hello?”

“Where were you today?” Felicity asked. “You sick?”

“Still haven’t found your phone?”

“No. I’ve looked everywhere.”

“Oh, no.”

“I know. Sucks. So, what’s up?”

I relayed what had happened. Felicity gasped. “Oh, no. I’m sorry, Ash. That sucks big time.”

“Yeah.”

“Are they gonna try to make up? Or what?”

“I don’t know. What did I miss?” I asked. The sound of cars honking and city noise filtered into the phone on Felicity’s end.

“Danicka asked where you were. I told her you and Colin were taking a long lunch
eating
—something she and her friends might want to take up since—clearly—Colin is a man, and men like meat, dogs like bones. He’s there, right? Are you having a fabu time?”

I glanced at Colin, hoping he couldn’t hear Felicity. “Well, kind of.”

“I shouldn’t have asked. You’re worried about your mom and dad.

Sorry. I miss you.”

“Miss you, too.”

“We’re heading to Chows. Surprise. Ugh. I expect you to do some serious damage to that boy while I’m dining on chop suey. Got it? I want a full report later.”

I laughed and glanced at Colin, hoping he hadn’t overheard. “Oh sure, right. Bye.”

“Felicity?” Colin asked.

I nodded.

“How did you meet?”

“At Chatham. She makes that place bearable.”

He nodded. “Gotta have friends like that.”

The Ritz was on the next block. Colin whipped his ringing phone out of the pocket of his coat. “Yes, sir? We’re outside the building, actually. Yes. We can do that.” The lightness in his expression vanished.

“Something wrong?”

“Charles wants us to meet him for dinner at Solange in ten.”

“Where’s that?”

“In the hotel.”

We approached the hotel with its gold and red striped awnings and massive planters filled with holiday Christmas trees decorated in jewel-bright bulbs.

Colin whisked me past doormen who held the giant brass doors open for us.

“I need to wash my hands,” I said. Walking through the city demanded a thorough scrubbing before eating, something Mother had taught me. Colin stood outside the bathroom door and waited for me.

The bathrooms were Italian marble from floor to ceiling. I washed my hands and made sure my hair wasn’t windblown, my makeup was fresh and I spritzed a spray of one of five complimentary perfumes sitting on an ornate glass tray.

“Ready?” he asked when I came out of the ladies room.

I nodded. He escorted me down a hall and back through the large lobby, bustling with travelers, bellmen, and other hotel employees. Guests lounged in comfortable tuxedo-style couches.

Some guests read, others chatted.

We crossed the lobby to another wide hall and ventured down the long, mirrored vestal until the scent of garlic, onions, and fragrant herbs filled the air. Solange was packed with men in suits and ties, a handful of women dressed in dresses, suits, or sleek designer wear.

Colin and I exchanged glances, both of us seeming to think the same thing: we were out of place in jeans and casual sweaters.

The maître d’ escorted us to the back of Solange, where we found Dad still in his suit, his cell phone at his ear. He grinned and waved us over. Dad brought me against him in a side-hug and my spine stiffened.

Both Colin and Dad reached to pull out my chair. A half-second of sticky heat held Dad’s and Colin’s gazes together. It was Colin who finished the gentlemanly gesture, and I sat, cheeks warm.

“I’ll call you back,” Dad said. Conversation ended, and he slipped his phone into the front pocket of his suit jacket. He sat across from me, Colin next to me. A low, lemon light glowed from a miniature lamp centered on the gold table cloth.

“Hungry, Princess?”

I sighed. “I’ve asked you not to call me that.”

He opened his menu, but his gray eyes held mine. “I apologize.”