Pulled Within (15 page)

He glanced at the TV. By giving me his profile, it highlighted the angles of his chin. He hadn’t shaved for at least a few days; he didn’t have a full beard quite yet, but his whiskers were thick and rough.
There wasn’t any scruff on his neck. It appeared as if he was
intentionally growing it out. It looked good on him.

Anything
looked good on him.

His stare returned and intensified. “Then stay here until you can
afford something of your own,” he insisted. “It’s not safe for you to
be there, especially after last night.”

He had a point. I could imagine that creep hovering over me,
and it made me feel ill. “I don’t know.”

“Are you using his drugs? Is that why you’re not saying yes to me?”

“No!” It came out much louder than I’d intended, but my point needed to be made. “I don’t do any of that shit. I just smoke weed.”
That was a weak follow-up. “But I do a lot less of that than I used to.” I realized that he hadn’t been around when I’d started smoking,
so I
understood why he would ask. It still sucked that he had thought
that.
“I’m just not sure that staying here is the right thing to do. It’s a
whole lot of
you
all at once.”

He laughed, his eyelids closing down to a squint. He dropped his hand in my lap. “Still honest as hell, I see.” His thumb traced a circle over my thigh. “We work opposite hours, so you wouldn’t be
seeing a whole lot of me. You would be in my house, and there would be a lot of my things around, and I’d make sure you got your fill of me. But I’d give you your space.”

There was no question that “your fill” had a double meaning.

“I can’t make this decision right now,” I told him.

“Sure. Just think about it, please.”

My fingers pulled out of the couch and rested on my stomach. They itched to touch his skin. His abs and his biceps had always
been the
most defined parts of his body. From the way his T-shirt clung to
him, it looked like that hadn’t changed.

“That guy who called you last night…will he be showing up at my door to check on you?”

It suddenly felt like his hands were on my throat, squeezing all
the
air out of me. There was nothing for me to hide behind. No blanket…no umbrella. I wanted one, at least. Or both. “What guy?”

He shrugged. “Before you got sick, you told me someone called you and didn’t leave a message. You never said his name.”

Fucking alcohol. I never would have said that to him if I hadn’t been drinking. The only person I would have told that to was Brady.

“Did I say anything else?” I asked casually.

He was reading me again. If he had seen the truth of my past, he would have been perfectly justified in dragging me off the couch and shutting the front door in my face and never speaking to me again.

That was what I honestly deserved.

“No,” he said. “You didn’t say anything else.”

A little relief came when his words sank in. But now he had
reminded
me of the phone call, which was something I had forgotten about.
The call was part of the reason I had slammed so much beer last night. I was trying to bury it.

To bury him…Gerald.

To bury those years of my life.

And the closer I got to December, the worse it haunted me.

I shook my head, trying to push out the thoughts and return to
Hart’s question. “He won’t be showing up here. He’s just someone I used to know. That’s all.”

That was all he was getting out of me. There was no way I was going to discuss who Gerald was, or why he would have been calling me. I didn’t even know if it was him. I just had a feeling. But
my feelings were usually right.

His thumb was tracing larger circles now, and deep rectangles
that almost reached my hip. “And there isn’t anyone else?”

“No.” I spoke so softly. “There isn’t anyone who would show up unexpectedly, here or anywhere else. Don’t worry, you can put your fists away.”

He smiled. “As long as you’re with me, I can never put them
away. I have to protect you.”

I had felt secure whenever I’d been with Saint or Brady, but my
relationship with them wasn’t about that. It was about caring for
them.
The feeling I had with Hart was deeper than just a sense of security
or
not having to worry about anyone harming me. He had already
proven how far he would go to keep me safe by rescuing me from Caleb and Jeremy’s horrible party. It made me want to trust him.

Even more, it made me feel like I actually could.

I turned my head and watched the TV screen. If I hadn’t dragged
my eyes away, I didn’t know if I would have been able to stop
myself from leaning forward and kissing him.

The thoughts in my head were so fucked up.

For years, I’d been running from my past, and Hart was such a huge part of that. Yet there I was, heading right toward him. I was giving him a chance, even though I’d sworn to myself that he’d never get another one. He was proving himself worthy. And I wanted his lips on me…and his hands, as long as he kept them in the right
places.

I wanted more.

“You’re going to stay the night at least, aren’t you?” he asked.

I hated that he knew my thoughts even when he wasn’t reading my eyes.

“Yes.” I slowly turned toward him again. He gawked back through hooded lids. And when his lips parted, I gazed between them until I saw his tongue. I wondered how fast he could flick it
now, how flat he could make the tip, and how pointed. I swallowed, trying to settle the tingling between my legs. “But I’m sleeping in the guest room.”

 “No hands,” he whispered, carefully leaning closer to me. I wasn’t
sure what he meant until his nose landed on the side of my jaw,
rubbing its entire length and across my chin. I could almost taste his gummy worm-scented breath. His exhale spread over my chest like a thick, hazy fog. “Though I’m sure I can get you to change your mind.”

The deep breaths weren’t helping. I squeezed my nails into my
palm, trying to concentrate on the pain rather than the feelings
exploding
inside me. That didn’t do anything for me, either. “Not tonight, you
can’t.” I turned from him and reached for the remote. “Now play
another movie, before I make you take me to Caleb’s.”

He kissed just below my ear. “You know I won’t take you back there.”

“What if I beg?”

“Fuck, Rae. If you start begging, I’m going to slide off this couch and get on my knees…and the place I head to won’t be Caleb’s.” His fingers crawled over my stomach, his palm finally resting just under my ribs. The pad of his thumb continued to graze, this time over my belly button piercing. “Beg me to kiss you.”

I knew what his mouth could do to me. I pushed off the couch, trying to stand up, but he stopped me just as I rose from the cushion
and pulled me back down. With his fingers now wrapped around
my
hand, he guided me to him. Our faces were aligned, only inches
from each other.

“Beg me,” he repeated.

Whatever air he breathed out, I sucked into my mouth and swallowed
like smoke. I was melting beside him, and there was nothing I could do to
stop it.

“Beg…” His voice was soft and deep and so demanding. It
triggered the wetness between my legs. My stomach jittered.

I pressed my fingers onto his lips, tracing their outline. I wanted
to feel his unmarred skin, to be reminded of its texture. His thick,
coarse
stubble pricked my flesh. I covered both sides, wandering down to
his chin and over his jaw.

I could feel him looking at me without meeting his gaze.

I passed over his lips again on the way to his other cheek. He
kissed behind my knuckle. He gripped my waist even tighter, drawing me to him without actually moving me.

He was demanding me to beg for his mouth, and my submission would confirm his control. But there was no way I was going to bend
so easily. I was going to give him the best part of me…the part that
hadn’t been broken or abused. The part that wasn’t scarred. And for
that, I needed to take my time.

I moved closer, my breathing becoming more rapid. The pulsing in my chest shivered through my stomach and settled in the spot
between my legs. There were inches between my mouth and
his…and I stopped. My eyelids shut. Air came through my nostrils, hit his face
and bounced back. He was breathing just as hard as I was. His
fingers would leave a bruise on my side, but I didn’t care. I wanted the pain. I wanted the mark. I wanted to look at the imprint of his desire like ink across my skin and remember this moment in the morning.

I slid another inch closer.

I knew once I tasted him, everything between us was going to
change. I would move into his house. I would eventually open up,
share the past that I kept so tightly bound. I knew it would be a
struggle to reveal those secrets, but it didn’t seem important with his face so close to mine.

What I wanted was overcoming what I feared most.

It pushed me to press my lips to his. I thought once I gave him
what he wanted, his touch would lighten. I thought everything
within me would begin to unwind. I thought I’d be filled with a sense of calm,
having let go of the tension that was building. None of that
happened.
The noise of our mouths merging, the feel of his scruff spreading over my face, the taste of his tongue—it all built up a tingling surge
within me. I wasn’t leading this kiss, and I wasn’t leading the buzzing that was happening inside me.

I’d given him complete control, and it was exactly what I
wanted.

What I needed.

First, his lips caressed my top one…then the bottom…then his
tongue
circled mine, and he pulled me close. I was being drawn into his
storm.

And yet, I wasn’t close enough.

My hands gripped the bottom of his T-shirt. It was so tempting to rip it off, to eliminate everything that separated us, to inspect him,
to relearn every line and mark and ridge on his body. To become
acquainted with how it had grown from a boy’s body into a man’s.

I wanted to hear the stories behind whatever scars he’d
collected.

But I couldn’t have that tonight. Tonight was about my lips, and he had those in his possession. They were sore and swollen, and his whiskers had brushed over my face so much I could feel the redness on my skin. Tonight, the pain wasn’t something I resisted. He had saved me, and my pain was part of that exchange.

I placed both hands on his cheeks and after one final breath
together,
I pulled my face away. My eyes opened at the same time his did. He leaned forward and gently kissed the tip of my nose, leaving me
again
almost immediately. It was such a cute gesture after the intensity
that had just passed between us.

“I’m going to have a hard time keeping my mouth off you.”

I smiled, feeling my skin turn even redder. “You’ll get only what I decide to give you.” That was almost laughable. It had taken every bit of strength I had to pull away from him. I doubted I’d be able to do it again. But I didn’t want him believing he had all the control.

“You’ve got it all wrong, baby.” His stare moved down to my
lips, pausing for several seconds before it moved back up. “I’m the giver
here. And when it comes to your body, I want to give constantly.
The only decisions that need to be made are which parts of
my
body I’m going to use when I please you, and how many orgasms I’m going to let you have.”

I could tell that he saw in my eyes the effect his words were
having. Knowing how well he read me, he probably saw the wetness coating my inner thighs.

“Does that smile mean you’re begging for one of them tonight?” he asked.

Yes
.

The remote was on the couch between us. I picked it up and
handed it to him. “Movie. Now.”

His laugher spread through me like thunder. It was such a sexy sound. “I didn’t think so.”

THE BED IN HART’S
guest room was king-sized, wrapped in soft white sheets and an overly fluffy down comforter. It felt like I had been sleeping in a cotton ball. I hated to climb out of it, but I’d been
awakened by a text from my mom. She had listed her schedule for
the whole week; if we were going to have coffee, today was the only day that would work. My reply told her I’d meet her in an hour.

I showered quickly and used the hair dryer that I found under the sink. It was too cold now to go out with wet hair. I didn’t have
any cosmetics, so I finished my morning routine by using the toothbrush Hart had given me and dressing in the sweats, T-shirt and hoodie I had worn last night. His scent on the clothes had faded a bit since yesterday, but I could still smell hints of him everywhere.

When it was finally time to go to sleep, he’d walked me to the guest room, and I’d closed my door without kissing him goodnight. It was safer that way. I knew his lips would only lead me straight to his bed. Then I’d leaned against the back of the door, listening to him move down the hallway and close his.

Now as I stood outside his room, I wondered what would
happen after I knocked. I lifted my hand and tapped gently.

“Come in,” he said.

I cracked open his door and peeked inside.

He smiled. “Seeing you in my clothes never gets old.”

There were sheer white panels covering the windows, but they
let in enough light that I could see every detail of his room. It took
up
the entire back corner of the house, with two full walls of glass that
showed
the most spectacular view of the ocean. The posters and the video
games and the light wood furniture that had once been in here had all been replaced. The bed sat under the slanted roof, the bedding in mid-gray tones. Bold lighting fixtures hung from the ceiling, and all the furniture was now in chocolate-stained wood. It had a quiet elegance and a grown-up masculinity.