Unbound (33 page)

He knows who I am right away, too—the masks don’t offer any real protection, not if you already know each other—and a smile plays on his lips. It’s a hideous, sickeningly triumphant smile, which leaves no doubt as to what he’s going through his mind right now. He wants me, and believes he can have me.

I look up at Jonathan with a knot in my throat, look into the blue eyes I love so much and ask myself despairingly if this can be a coincidence, or if he summoned Yuuto here. Would he do that?

He seems to notice the panic in my face and bends down toward me.

“You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to,” he whispers into my ear, but his words don’t calm me at all. Instead I suddenly feel tears prickling in my eyes.

Perhaps I don’t have to, but I can if I want to. It wouldn’t bother him. Perhaps he’d even enjoy watching? I’m having great difficulty breathing. The pain in my chest is almost taking my breath away, and is being etched deep into my soul.

Everything I found so arousing before suddenly repulses me: the interchangeability, the lack of trust, the emotional frigidity. Jonathan’s emotional frigidity.

I’m not that and I can’t be like that. Maybe I had to come here in order to know for certain that I’m not indifferent to whom I have sex with. I want to do it with Jonathan; I want to test my boundaries with him, to discover new things. Yes, I want to. But only with him. Not with some random men from the club. Not with Yuuto Nagako. And that’s precisely the problem. Because if I stay with Jonathan there will always be new Yuutos, I’ll always be faced with men who believe they have a right to me, because Jonathan doesn’t lay claim to me. And new women Jonathan desires, with whom I would have to share.

I breathe in, trembling, and come to the conclusion that it’s not enough for me. I want the impossible—I want him to belong to me. Not half or a little, but completely. And the fact that that’s obviously not possible is breaking my heart.

“I can’t do this,” I say, finding it impossibly difficult to tear my gaze away from those blue eyes, which are looking at me so imploringly. But I’ve got to get out here right away, so I push my way past the Japanese man and the two women out into the hallway.

I break out in a sob and I hold my hand up to my mouth and run back to the entrance hall crying because I can’t hold the tears back any longer. One of the uniformed attendants is looking at me with concern, but his face turns impassive again almost immediately.

“The changing rooms are over there,” he informs me, indicating the door beneath the stairs that Jonathan had shown me earlier.

Behind the door, there really is a row of cubicles, and inside number twelve is the key the woman at reception handed me. Inside I find my dress, coat, high heels, and purse. I hurriedly put everything back on, and a glance at the big mirror behind the door confirms what I already feared—my eyes are red from crying and my mascara has run. I reach for the cleansing wipes they laid out and try to wipe it away, but fresh tears keep running down my cheeks, so I finally give up.

When I enter the hall again, I stop short. Jonathan is standing in front of the door to the changing rooms, waiting for me.

He’s clenched his hands into fists and looks as if he can’t decide whether he’s embarrassed or angry.

“You really want to leave?”

I wipe the tears from my cheeks and nod.

“I’m sorry,” I say quietly, observing him, drinking in every last detail of him. His black hair, his beautiful blue eyes, the full lips, which kiss so well, and the strong arms I loved to lie in. He’s so beautiful and so dark and so seductive. And so terribly unreachable.

Colors of love, I think, with immense sadness. If they exist, then Jonathan’s love is jet black. Too dark for me.

Since it’s probably my last chance and because I simply can’t help it, I go up to him and give him a kiss on the cheek. A kiss goodbye.

Then I turn around and head for the exit and the further away I get the faster I walk. There’s simply too much danger that I might turn around and run back to him.

My heart is racing and for one desperate moment I hope he’ll stop me. But a second later I’m standing in the foyer and the door is locking behind me. It feels so final that I jump.

“You’re leaving us already?” the blond woman behind the reception desk asks, breaking the silence and startling me back to reality. She must have noticed how upset I am but she doesn’t comment on it.

“Will someone be picking you up?”

I hadn’t thought about it, but I nod. Jonathan said that Steven would wait for us, but if for some reason he didn’t, or if he’s not willing to drive me, then I’ll take a taxi. I’ll find one somehow.

The blond opens the door for me and lets me out without saying goodbye, and then I’m standing outside, walking down the path to the wrought iron gate that opens for me. The cold rain envelops me, washing the tear stains from my cheeks. I feel completely empty inside, yet somehow cleansed.

It’s over. I’ve got to go back to America and forget what happened here in England. I’ve got to forget Jonathan. Because for him I’m just one of many—interchangeable, replaceable. Because his interest in me doesn’t go any deeper than that, even though I really wanted to believe it did. Even if a part of me still really wants to believe it. Because I just don’t have a future with him.

The black limousine really is waiting on the street and I head toward it, dragging my feet. When I’ve almost reached it, I hear a voice.

“Grace.”

It’s Jonathan’s voice behind me, and I whip around.

He’s coming toward me along the path. Barefoot. His pants are clinging wetly to his body and the rain is running over his naked chest. He stops right in front of me.

It’s raining harder now and I blink back the drops of water, mixed with my tears, staring into those blue eyes whose depths are so difficult to fathom. I know I should turn around and go now.

Because he isn’t good for me.

Because I could lose myself in the darkness that surrounds him.

I take a breath, trembling.

And wait.

She’s fallen for him — hook, line and sinker. Grace knows exactly how dangerous her feelings for Jonathan Huntington are, but her love for him is growing stronger with every day she spends near him. But is he really as indifferent as he seems? Or does Jonathan really see her simply as a willing plaything? When Grace tries to make him show his true colors, it leads to disaster …

Colors of Love — Uncovered
By Kathryn Taylor

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