Riley's Pond (New Adult Romance) (21 page)

“Taylor, honey? I hope my visit isn’t a total shock. You had to know I wouldn’t just give up and walk away.” Each word brought him a step closer. His finger lifted my chin so our eyes met. “You’re too important to me.” He leaned in for a gentle kiss. “Here, these are for you,” he said, handing me the roses.

“Thanks. I’ll go put them in some water.”

He caught my arm, halting my retreat to safety in the kitchen. The timbre of his voice changed. Sinister and threatening.

“No.” He took the roses out of my hand and set them on the entry bureau. “We only have a couple hours and I don’t want to waste time putting flowers in a stupid vase.” His arms wound around my waist, drawing me into him. His lips pressed my neck, nipping their way to my earlobe, where he did place a gentle
bite
.

“Where’s your bedroom?”

Fear clamped my heart turning my body rigid. “No, Michael. Grammy will freak out.”

“
Grammy’s
not here.” He threw me over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes and headed up the stairs. “We’ve got unfinished business, baby.”

I pounded and scratched at his back. “Put me down, Michael!” I screamed.

“Go ahead, yell it out, Taylor. No one’s going to hear you. The nearest house is a mile away and you know it.” He dropped me onto the bed, kicked the door shut and flipped the lock.

“Take your clothes off.” He unzipped his pants and the bulge in his probably dry cleaned white briefs alerted me I wouldn’t get “fingers” this time. My voice disappeared in my throat. Only a whisper escaped.

“No, please.” I jumped to my feet, but he was faster, clamping my arms. “Michael, this is wrong. You can’t force me to—”

Michael’s mouth took mine, stopping my protest. His mouth tasted of a cheap breath mint, the sugary residue clinging to his tongue. His hand unzipped my skirt, pushing it to the floor, the other hand held my head tight against his lips. Both hands cupped my butt, grinding me against him.

Terror reached out and gripped every limb, every muscle, and ricocheted in my heart. Every time I tried to break Michael’s ravaging kisses, he bit my lip, forcing my mouth open so his tongue could probe deeper.

I tried to move sideways, but became trapped in my skirt, wrapped at my ankles like a vice. Michael shoved me toward the bed, but my feet remained imprisoned in the fabric cuff and I fell into the nightstand, smacking my elbow on the corner. Tears burned instantly against the smarting pain, but I forgot my elbow when Michael yanked me upright, pushing me with the weight of his body deep into the mattress.

He grabbed the bedspread, ripping it from beneath me. “Don’t want to mess Grandma’s quilt.”

My body turned to stone, my limbs refusing to bend against his demands. I slapped, pushed, and twisted, but nothing worked. He was stronger. And meaner. His breaths were short, ragged, and hot on my neck. His legs pinned mine and I sensed time running out, my body growing weary.

Calm…stay calm. Cry. Michael hates it when you cry. Reminds him how young you are. Do it! Act like a little girl.

I gasped for air, pleading through sobs, “Michael, stop, please. Don’t hurt me.”

Again.

It worked, for a second. He rose, studied my face. His knees on my thighs cut off the circulation and my toes tingled. Cautiously, I moved my right leg slightly, managing to free it from beneath his. He bent, his thumb brushed over my quivering lips and I stared back, quickly setting my foot against his shoulder in an attempt to shove him off balance and release my other leg.

Someone screamed. Possibly me.

A balled fist thrust into my gut, knocking the air out of my lungs and bile licked the back of my throat. Michael had gotten smarter. Hit me where no would see the marks.

“Okay. Don’t hit,” I begged, barely able to cough the words out.

Michael placed a soft kiss on my forehead, his hand smoothing over my hair. I lay still, fighting for breath. His fingers gently caressed my cheek, outlining the edges of my face. My entire body trembled. Even my teeth rattled. When he spoke, it was quiet, falsely comforting.

“That’s more like it. You know I hate hurting you, baby.” His lips pressed mine gently before he stood, pulling me onto my feet. A menacing smile snaked on his mouth.

“Take your top off, babe. Slowly.”

Moving robotically, I eased my camisole over my head while Michael watched with a dark, sick leer. I felt the tremors start at my knees and climb over my arms to the top of my head while I waited, exposed for Michael’s examination in just my bra and panties.

He pulled his Ralph Lauren polo off, tossing it to the floor. Sweat shimmered over his chest. A slight breeze ruffled the curtains, beading the moisture against the gooseflesh. I shuddered as if it were an Arctic wind.

Michael trailed a finger slowly down my left arm. Eyes sharp and glistening with excitement showed how much he relished the power he held over me. His puppet.

“Now the bra.”

I reached behind me, pretending to struggle with the single hook and stall for time, which didn’t work to my advantage. His fingers formed a vice over my jaw.

“Stop messing with me, Taylor.” He reached behind me and flipped the clasp like he’d practiced a hundred times. On someone else.

Instinctively, I crossed my arms over my chest. Michael had never seen my bare breasts. He pulled my arms apart, locking my wrists. “No!” The word sounded feeble, lost in the holes of the eyelet drapes. A tear dropped onto my lip before escaping to the floor.

Eyes of black onyx took inventory of his newly acquired possession. “God, you’re gorgeous. And mine.”

Slowly, he lowered me onto the bed, his hands moving aggressively and his rough tongue abrading my skin. I cried. My youth taken from me and I couldn’t stop it from happening.

Inside my head, I schemed to find one last possible chance at freedom—to escape to Riley’s house for sanctuary, even if only wearing thong panties. The hopeful thought gave me the strength to try one last time. My knee made contact with Michael’s groin and he recoiled in agony, rolling just enough to the side for me to move from underneath him.

I got two steps towards the door before Michael had my hair, wrenching me to the floor. He wrapped the locks tight around his fist and I flailed my arms, trying to reach his hands. I felt my scalp stretch. His foot kicked me hard in my back. He still wore his boots.

A sharp pain stabbed under my arm when he yanked me off the floor and shoved me against the wall. He raised his hand and I pinched my eyes shut, anticipating the blow. Nothing happened.

“A black eye will make Granny suspicious. Wouldn’t want that, now would we?” I only nodded, still trying to breathe against the searing burn in my lower back. Without loosening the grip on my forearms, he literally
threw
me onto the bed and followed, his underwear dangling off one leg like it had to nowhere to escape either.

I turned myself off. No more emotion. No more pain. Nothing. I stared at the ceiling, barely aware he’d removed my panties and thrust his ugly self inside me. Another piercing jolt of pain that blended into the others.

Michael grunted and moaned in his own fantasy world. Desperate to disappear, I found a mental sanctuary—something simple to focus on, taking me outside my body. A display of delicate white petals with bright orange centers edged the ceiling, looking all happy and bright as if growing on a warm summer day. I counted each cheerful flower until Michael collapsed on me, sweaty and lifeless.

Three hundred and sixteen daisies.

Twenty-One

CONFUSION

Riley

The truck’s engine screamed when the tachometer tipped the red scale. An hour had passed since Taylor’s
S.O.S.
text. Barney doubted I had an emergency until I threatened to quit if he didn’t let me go. I promised if it wasn’t serious I’d be back, lying through my teeth. He thought Dirk sent the message and I let him believe Dirk was home alone.

I took the back way to Taylor’s grandmother’s, avoiding the route by my house in case someone saw me. I hated explanations, or worse,
lies
. Mrs. Daniel’s house came into view on the rise and a sense of urgency filled me unexpectedly. When I pulled up, I spied a strange car parked in the driveway with Massachusetts license plates. My stomach whirled in a dizzying spin.

Dear God, please be her parents.

Taylor answered the door, the look in her eyes distant, scaring the hell out of me. She looked
through
me. A faint smile curled on lips swollen and bruised. Her eyes watered, but she swallowed the tears down.

Shit.

“
Hi,” she said in a small voice, standing guard in the doorway. She looked like she’d been sleeping. Her hair lay matted and her silky camisole, my favorite pink one that billowed when my hands slid underneath, appeared wrinkled. She stood pigeon toed, her bubble gum pink painted toes fidgeting like her fingers did when she was nervous.

“I got your message. Are you okay?” I reached up to touch her face and she flinched against my touch. Warning sirens wailed in my brain. “Taylor?”

A hand appeared above her head, pushing the door wider. Chiseled jaw, fairly toned arms, not as big as my own, but sizeable. A ripped chest made the little embroidered horsey on his shirt noticeable, and long legs placing his body a head taller than Taylor, appeared behind her. Not a hair out of place. My guess was he had his chest and arms waxed, and probably had his nose hairs coiffed and styled. Handsome and smelling of money by the scent of his certain expensive cologne.

The bastard from Boston.

His hand eased over Taylor’s shoulder and an unmistakable shudder rippled through her body. “Taylor,
love
, aren’t you going to introduce me to your friend?” He kissed the top of her hair and my blood boiled to a rage in less than a second. She didn’t need to tell me who the asshole was touching
my
Taylor.

“Riley, this is Michael.”

That’s when I noticed it. She raised her left hand to brush hair away from her face, or maybe to shove Michael’s hand off her shoulder. Whatever the reason didn’t matter. The huge diamond caging her ring finger blinded me. A diamond that had never been there before.

I swallowed a hundred times, maybe two hundred, pushing down emotions suddenly rising. Taylor was
engaged.
Officially, “diamond clad” engaged…to
Michael.

“
Prince Charming” extended one hand to me, keeping a proprietary hold on Taylor’s waist, where
my
hand should be. I stepped back as if by touching him, my skin would disintegrate.

“Nope. Sorry.” I glared at Taylor. “Congratulations. Hope you’re happy.” I never felt the cobblestones rubbing beneath my feet. In fact, I never felt my feet rapidly propelling me toward my truck.

“Riley!” Taylor called out but stopped, abruptly. The front door slammed shut and I thought I heard her cry out.

I studied the front porch where two rockers moved ghostly in the late afternoon breeze. The rockers I pictured Taylor and me sitting in while watching our grandchildren play tag on the front lawn. The edges of my picture frayed when the memory flipped to the sparkling rock on Taylor’s finger. She belonged in someone else’s picture now.

Still, I waited, listening. The lace drapes on the door window moved slightly—someone watched me. No noise, just an eerie silence that made my skin swim against my bones. Something seemed off, but my mind couldn’t move past the jealous rage building to figure it out. When the curtains shifted again, I held up my middle finger, saluting the happy couple.

By the time I’d taken the last few steps to my truck, I couldn’t see for the tears blurring my vision. Why the emergency text? To rub my nose in the fact that she was engaged? All the endearing words spoken over the past weeks, twisted into meaningless lies?

Then it hit. A brick to my head. The crumpled skirt. Bare feet and legs. The wrinkled camisole. Her matted hair and swollen lips. Her
scent.
Not her flowery sweet signature fragrance. No, a pungent odor like vinegar, but not as sour. Natural, almost primal. She smelled of
sex.
Michael had popped Taylor’s cherry.
My
cherry!

I hated being decent. For once I wish I could be more like Jaxson, taking what I wanted and begging forgiveness later. Why wasn’t I programmed like that? Why did I care? Why did I fall in love with Taylor Wilson? And how bad would it hurt falling
out
of love with her?

Excruciating.

Twenty-Two

NOW WHAT?

Jaxson

Life closed in on me fast. Three weeks and I shipped out of this hellhole town. I didn’t know what I looked forward to the most—being able to breathe air outside the confines of everyone’s stares and my family’s strangulating sham of happiness
,
or losing my ankle shackle. I couldn’t go anywhere without calling one of my babysitters for approval. I hadn’t seen a movie, eaten out in a decent restaurant, or socialized with anyone. Hell, I hadn’t even had a damn beer.

Done with being the model prisoner, I leaned on the refrigerator door and stared at the amber bottles meticulously lined up on the second shelf, each containing the smooth ale my body craved. One. Just one.

The back door slammed and instinctively, I shut the fridge. Riley stomped into the kitchen puffing like a mad dragon, dropping the “f-bomb” every other word.

“Whoa, slow down. What the hell has your tighty-whities bunched up?”

When Riley turned, his expression shocked me. Not even in the hospital when he discovered I coerced Kaylee into going to the party with me, had Riley appeared so torn up. He dropped onto a kitchen chair and buried his head in his hands.

“God, it’s all a lie,” he cried. Literally
cried
. “How could she do this to me? To
her?
She despises the guy for hell’s sake! How can she marry him?”