Tangled (21 page)

How,
after all these weeks, was their relationship still floundering within the
bounds of the PG-13 category? It was just unnatural. If it wasn’t one thing, it
was another: wrong timing, mismatched schedules, et cetera. She was beginning
to think they would never have sex.

If
she were being completely honest with herself, a part of her was relieved they’d
yet to venture beyond the point of no return. As much as she craved it,
apprehension lingered in the back of her mind. Sex always changed things. Once
they did the deed, there’d be no turning back.

What
if they didn’t work out? At least now there was still time to back out.

Or
maybe she was being a coward.

Sighing,
Tess snapped on her bra and reached for the remote. There was nothing like a
little mindless television to put her uncertainties to rest. She was twenty
minutes deep into a documentary about
meerkats
when
the doorbell rang.

Who
could that be?

Tess
fumbled for her sweater and spryly hopped off the bed. “Hold your horses,” she
grumbled as the doorbell continued its obnoxious refrain. She opened the door
to an empty stoop.

On
the other side of the sidewalk, Cameron’s visitor argued with the cabbie that’d
presumably dropped him off.

Her
eyes narrowed as the guy flung a fistful of cash and expletives in the driver’s
face. There was only one person with that much audacity.

“Hey,
fuck you, crazy asshole!” Snatching the money off the ground, the cabbie flipped
him off.
 

“Is
this what you do now?” she inquired as the cab tore off into traffic. “Terrorize
cabbies at all hours of the night?”

Adonis
swung around at the sound of her voice, his expression a cross between appalled
and indignant. “Why are you here? Fuck it. I already know. Just couldn’t wait
to get into his pants, could you?” He surged past her into the house, reeking of
booze and cigarette smoke. “Where is he?”

Her
mind spun from the rapid-fire interrogation. “I don’t know. Something came up
and he took off.” And now she had an idea why. He paced the foyer like a caged
panther. “Are you ok?”

Aiming
a venomous look at her, he disappeared down the hallway. Seconds later, Lamb of
God’s
Bloodletting
crashed through
the townhouse’s thin walls.

And
this would be the whipped cream on top of a Thanksgiving trifecta of
clusterfucks
. Grinding her teeth, Tess locked up and
searched him out. At least he had decent taste in music.

Behind
the bar, he used a crystal carafe to fill shot glasses lined up in a row. “You
want to play a game? Let’s play a game,” he babbled, sliding a few glasses in
her direction.
 
“How about it? Cups?
Kings? What about bourbon pong?”

She
didn’t know how he managed to fit so many sentences in one breath.
 
This must be a manic episode: the
elevated mood, excitement, and forced speech. And judging by the smell of him,
booze had only exacerbated his condition. “How much have you had to drink?”

His
head flung back with laughter. “What does it matter?
 
Why does anything matter?” He chugged
the shots one after the other without pause.

The
lunatic! Was he trying to kill himself?

Tess
lunged for the carafe. Foreseeing her intention, he snatched the bottle out of
her reach and bared his teeth in a maniacal grin. She didn’t need a
differential diagnosis. He was certifiable. “What the hell do you think you’re
doing?
 
Do you want to end up back
in the ER?”

“As
long as it means you giving me mouth-to-mouth. Want to practice?” he husked,
flipping the script. “You can pretend you don’t want another round, but I know
better.” Adonis leaned over the bar on his forearms. “You two haven’t fucked
yet, have you?”

Shock
gusted past her barriers at his brazenness. “My sex life is none of your
business.”

“What
sex life?” he snorted. “I’m the only one you’ve been with for months.”

Red
blotched her face. “Shut up!”

“Ha!
I knew I was right. You’re all wound up with no way to come. What’s wrong?
Cammie
can’t get it up?” His grin darkened. “Or can you
already tell he won’t be able to satisfy you? Not like I can. Why do you think
his girls come to me? Ask and you shall receive.” He stalked around the bar
like a predator cornering its prey.

Paralyzed,
Tess held her breath as he stopped a hair’s width away, so close she could feel
the electricity stitching through her body. “Any way, anywhere, and however
many times you want it. He’ll never have to know. What do you want me to do?” Adonis
whispered into her ear. “Eat you out until it starts to hurt? Fuck you so hard
you black out?”

Liquid
heat spilled between her thighs. His teeth snagged her lobe, sending an urgent
jolt to her groin. She clenched her teeth as she tried to mentally fight off encroaching
delirium. Engulfed by the dark, hypnotic undertow of his presence, her brain’s
frantic signals were lost.

It
would be so much easier to rebuff his advances if she didn't know he was good
for it. As wrong as it was, she craved him. Memories of tangled, sweaty limbs
and the sweet, stretching fit of him flashed through her, unearthing an ache
she desperately hoped would abate in time.

Tess
never gave thought to why Cameron failed to rouse the same response. She assumed
that their taking things to the next level would resolve the issue. Yes, she
was attracted to him, crazily so.

But
he could never stoke this raw, this visceral of a reaction.
 

It
had to be the forbidden aspect. Sneaking around behind everyone’s back, lusting
for her former tormentor, there had to be some behavioral theory behind her response.
 

It
was unhealthy.

It
was sick.

And
it only made her want him more.

"You
want me so bad I can taste it. I can taste you, Tess." His eyes had taken
a hungering, feverish glow, afflicted by the same malady. "I want you.”

Her
throat was bone dry. The heat writhing between them was a tangible entity,
alive and squirming in wanton entreaty. Her eyes fell to his forearms, the tendons
flexing within the tight sheath of skin, evidencing his threadbare restraint.

But
she couldn't. She refused to be a slave of desire, even if he looked ready to pick
her up and slam her against the nearest wall. Tess retaliated the only way she
knew how and lunged for the metaphorical jugular. "Unlike you, I try not
to make a habit of betraying the people I love."

Like
a thunderhead gathering momentum, black emotion stormed his features. Adonis
spun around, cranked the music to a pulverizing decibel, and began refilling
all of the shot glasses.

“Adonis,
don’t!”

“Who
are you to tell me what I shouldn’t do,” he spat contemptuously over the music.

“I
just want to help you,” she pleaded. “I know what you’re going through.” Which
was why she would try and not hold it against him come morning.

“You
don’t know anything so don’t presume otherwise. This is my life. I can do
whatever the fuck I want.”

“What
about what your family would want?” Tess batted back.

The
comment seemed to cast off his nebulous mooring to sanity. Pressurized rage
built behind his features until it erupted. “Don’t drag them into this! And
stop acting like you give a damn about what happens to me. You’d be more than
happy if I dropped dead. Then you could live out your happily ever after with
your knight in shining armor. Isn’t that right?”

Talking
to him was beginning to feel like a rollercoaster ride, one that she
desperately wanted off. “You know that’s not true.”

Before
she could stop him, he slung back the shots one by one and hurled each into the
wall in sync with the sharp-edged, crushing peaks of the guitar riffs.

She
stood by helplessly as he swept the liquor off the shelf with an all mighty
roar. Whiskey, bourbon, and vodka cartwheeled midair and crashed onto the
hardwood floor. Tess ducked as tumblers and lowballs whizzed past her.

Fear
jammed her throat. For the first time, his illness wasn’t just scrolling
paragraphs on a computer screen. It was real and in her face and she didn’t
know what the hell to do.

Tess
fought for calm although every instinct begged her to flee. But she couldn’t
leave him. Not like this. Caught in the crossfire of conflicting urges, she
screamed, “Why are you doing this?”

“Don’t
pretend you don’t know! What else do you want from me? What else do you want to
know? How I come from a long line of suicidal nutcases? How my grandfather hung
himself up in an asylum? How my fucked up mother drove herself and my brother
off a cliff?”

Something
cold roosted behind her ribs. “What?”

Adonis
spun around and gripped the ledge when he caught his reflection in the bar’s
mirror. Something about it set him off. With an animalistic snarl, he drove his
fist into the mirror, again and again. Blood spurted from his knuckles,
smearing the wood-paneled back and glass remains with red.

She’d
had just about enough of this madness. Tess ripped herself from the relative
safety of the alcove. “I’m calling Cam.” Or better yet, the cops.

The
threat seemed to slow him down. He bent forward, a sallow, greenish tint coloring
his features.

She
recognized the telltale sign of impending sickness. Tess didn’t hesitate and
ran to his side as he doubled over. With no small amount of coaxing, she took
on half his weight and helped him hobble to the guest bathroom.

They
made it just in time.

He
dropped to his knees and spewed his guts into the bowl. Why had watching him
vomit become a regular occurrence?

Ten
minutes passed before he weakly pushed himself away and slumped against the
tiled wall.

With
him finally settled, her ragged pulse tapered from a hypersonic gallop to a
spasmodic trot. Exhaling, she pushed the hair from her face. God, she felt as
if she’d just finished a marathon.

Blood
coated his right hand. He didn’t object as she carefully inspected the damage.
Tiny shards of glass protruded from the open wounds. The scrapes were mostly
superficial. They would probably leave nothing more than faint scars, if that,
but the glass would have to be extracted.

Tess
raided the cabinets beneath the sink for tweezers. She found the first aid box squeezed
between bleach and a jumbo pack of sponges. Tess lifted the latch and peered
inside. It housed all of the essentials, from cotton swabs to a miniature
bottle of hydrogen peroxide.

Thank
God for Cam’s dependability.

After
removing the particles of glass, Tess grabbed a washcloth and soaked it in
lukewarm water and soap. She glanced up, expecting to find him in the same
state of semi-consciousness.

Glassy,
golden eyes stared at her.

Unsettled
by their vacancy, she severed the connection and carried on with the business
of sterilizing his scrapes. “I don’t understand why you keep doing this to
yourself,” she muttered more so to herself than him.

He
surprised her by answering. “Why…why won’t you leave me alone?” he slurred
listlessly.

Her
patience splintered. “You think I like cleaning up after your messes? Lying to
Cameron? All because you’re too much of a
chickenshit
to say you need help.”