Unforgiven (26 page)

“Open up.” She froze for a moment, but he watched her steadily. She parted her lips, and he groaned as his focus moved to her open mouth. His finger thrust inside her mouth through the creamy cum, and he groaned again. She sucked on his finger as he thrust it into her mouth, and when he was done touching, he withdrew his finger and leaned to her ear. “Swallow.” He pushed her head back, kissing and sucking his way down the front of her neck as she swallowed the salty, thick liquid.

He clutched her body to his with a strong hand on her back, and his other snaked between them to part the wet lips of her vagina. He settled his still engorged cock between her lips, and he slid between them, back and forth as he rocked his hips against her, holding her tight. Her hips were tightening and rolling against him too, and as her wet flesh rubbed a slippery trail along his arousal, he bit down on her shoulder. She loved his bites. Always controlled, always intense, and always just as much as she could handle.

He eventually replaced his dick with his fingers, and he sank two inside her to his knuckles. He thrust as she gripped his shoulders and buried her head against his neck. He pushed and pulled, and when his thumb started circling and swirling around her clit, her legs trembled and turned to rubber. She came, reaching back to grip his knees even as her stomach muscles tried to pull her inward and around her guts. He watched for a moment before he sank his teeth into the plump skin of her breast, biting down gently. He sucked hard on her skin and then her nipple, and his fingers still gently plunged into her.

They stayed collapsed together on the chair for many more long minutes, breathing deeply against one another’s neck. Their skin was clammy and damp with perspiration, and after he stood her up on her feet, he pulled her away to his shower. They were silent as they showered and were back to watching one another curiously, nervously. At least she was nervous. He seemed lost again, but he reached for her hips, pulling her up against him and nuzzling into her neck, and she relaxed.

She curled up on his bed and watched him move naked around his room. He wasn’t in a hurry, and she studied him as she hugged a bunched up pillow in her arms. He looked like the old Darren. He looked like her Darren. He didn’t smile the way he used to, but there were times . . . Occasionally he seemed to forget that he hated life, and his lips relaxed. It was then that he was so much like her Darren that it choked her. She’d give anything to have her old Darren back, and if she could mix him with what they’d just done last night and this morning, all the better.

Remembering the man he used to be wasn’t just painful; it was like coping with the grief of losing someone you loved. It seemed wrong to liken it to the loss of Jess or her father, but she struggled to put it in any other terms. She felt like Darren had died that night too, and this was a sad ghost of the man she had known. The ghost of him was forced to spend eternity reliving his death over and over again until he was insane or figured out some way to move beyond it all. He just bounced between the past and present continuously, and she hated it.

Was that why he needed her to stay? Did he think she was the key to setting him free in some way? Helping him leave the past behind permanently? She . . . the disaster who’d wrecked her life just as it was beginning and destroyed everyone who’d loved her. She couldn’t help him. She would give her life if she thought she could save him, but she knew she couldn’t. It didn’t mean she wouldn’t stay for him. Wait for him. Pray for him. She owed him that much if nothing else, and she owed herself too. This wasn’t a spiral into self-destruction. It was her penance. It was her redemption. And because she’d loved him once, or loved him still, it wasn’t even a question.

He sat on the side of the bed, slipping his shoes on. He was no longer naked, and she’d lost track of what he was doing as she’d zoned. Hell of show to miss . . . He turned to her, and he leaned over her. She thought for a moment he might kiss her—seemed the least he could do after the past many days, but he didn’t. His thumb brushed along her lower lip, and then he pulled back.

“Your clothes are drying in the dryer. This is my last shift for a few days, so I’m sure I’ll see you sometime next week, I guess.” That wasn’t a man asking to see her. It wasn’t a man who wanted to make plans to see her again. It was a man content to run into her whenever the occasion arose. The pain was swift. She suddenly felt like a whore, though she guessed she had no idea what that actually felt like.

She sat up and stared at him as he stood. “Next week sometime?”

“What?” But he wasn’t dumbfounded; he was defensive.

She threw the covers back and stood up. Stomping away from the man to his bathroom and slamming the door was probably a bit juvenile, but that was exactly what she did. She stood at the sink, staring at her idiot self in the mirror, and she waited for him to leave. It didn’t take long, and when she heard his car backing out of the driveway, she emerged. She downed a cup of coffee and paced in his living room for thirty minutes, mumbling to herself. The phone rang just as she was starting the dishwasher, and she cringed when his cell number popped up on caller ID.

“Care to tell me what that was all about?”

“No.” Her voice was flat.

“Please tell me you’re not offended I’m not asking you to move in with me after a few nights of foreplay.” His voice was sarcastic and mean, and that’s all it took. She hung up the phone on him, and when it rang again, she ignored it, grabbed her running clothes from the dryer, changed quickly, and bounded out the door with Macy in tow. If she was to suffer doing his dirty work today, she’d rather suffer the Macy part of it, not his fucking house chores. Fuck him and his emotionally constipated bullshit.

He cursed as he pocketed his phone again. He’d tried calling her three times, and he wasn’t going to waste any more time trying to get her to act like an adult. Who was he kidding? He’d been the child. He recognized the hurt on her face the instant the words were out of his mouth. He was losing his ability to enjoy her pain—in fact he detested it—and yet, he seemed powerless to maintain decency with her emotions. He was out of practice being human with her, and every time he tried to let his guard down and be vulnerable with her, his hackles rose. He felt emotionally threatened by her, and he didn’t understand it.

This wasn’t how the day was supposed to start. The night before had been incredible. He was relieved when she’d stayed for dinner after their somewhat strained time on the beach. He was also relieved he’d finally loosened up enough to be at least marginally honest and humble with her, and he’d been completely and pathetically overwhelmed by her after that. It might have been his show last night, but he’d been powerless to stop with her, and he never imagined she could be so satisfying. He was almost shocked, given how much he struggled to handle his emotions around her, that he’d still been so ravenous with her. His desire now equaled what it used to be, and that was a bit surprising to say the least.

He could still remember the warmth of her wetness and the incredible tightness he’d forced his fingers into as her body convulsed violently through her release. It was intense for her, that was certain, but it was also exceptionally intense for him too. He’d woken up thinking about nothing but his desire for her, and when she’d found him on the deck, all he thought about was how much he wanted her. He didn’t care about anything else, and it was such a relief, such a reprieve to just focus on this part of their relationship.

What he hadn’t intended to let happen was for things to crumble because his dumbass mouth couldn’t help but get him trouble. Again. He’d struggled to figure out what to say to her as he was leaving, and like some aloof, foolish kid, he’d played it cool—way too cool. He didn’t feel cool at all; he felt desperate, but those fucking hackles had risen, and he couldn’t get himself to be so vulnerable. He was stepping on his own damn toes and then again when he called her. She’d called him out on his behavior, and he’d acted defensively. When the hell had he gotten so emotionally immature?

None of it meant he wasn’t pissed she was ignoring his calls, and the second they were caught up and he was able to get out of the hospital for a while, he went home. He wasn’t sure he should trust himself to be civil, but he wasn’t going to watch her hide from him. He was forcing himself out of his comfort zone, and he didn’t need her defensiveness.

He found his house empty of both dog and girl, and when he checked the dryer, her running clothes were gone and her day clothes were folded neatly on top. He found her tennis shoes gone as well. He didn’t think she’d be up for a long run today, given her muscles had to be sore from not only the leg cramps but the paces he’d put her through last night, and so he waited. He waited as long as he could to speak to her, but he couldn’t wait all day, and when he’d been pacing for nearly forty minutes, he finally scribbled a quick but impolite message to call him on a notepad he kept by the phone, and he left.

Focusing on his afternoon got him through the wait to hear from her, but once his day slowed back down and he got ready to hand off his patients, he started fidgeting. He tried to reach her a few more times, but the phone did nothing but ring.

He finally arrived back home again. It had been a few hours since he’d run home midday. He wasn’t expecting to find the house empty again, and when he oddly found her street clothes still neatly folded on the dryer and her tennis shoes still gone, he started to panic. She’d not been back. There was no sign whatsoever that anyone but him had been in the house, and as he threw on a pair of shorts and his running shoes, he was cursing under his breath. This was not a panic he liked to feel. This was the desperate kind that left his guts clenching. He was downright terrified.

He took off down the path that winded through the trees, and he started yelling for her as he ran. He was running too fast to keep the pace for long, and he had to force himself to slow his gait. He had no idea how far she could’ve gotten, and he needed to get as far as she could possibly be. Yelling didn’t help his energy level, and he was getting winded quicker than he should. The panic coursing through his veins was likely sucking his stamina too. But he yelled her name, charging forward as his lungs started to burn, and his voice became hoarse. He’d not gone far, not more than a mile, but in his current state, he was fading fast.

He pushed forward, yelling, panicking, and trying like mad not to lose his mind. All he could see was the damn bluff of rocks that fell away steeply below. Shit. That was a good three and a half miles on unsteady terrain, and he wasn’t sure he could handle the fear of what he might find for that distance. Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! She had to be okay. She simply had to be okay. He rounded a curve in the path, grunting as his muscles burned and his lungs did too, and then she was there.

He stopped, relief washing over him, but then he saw the blood, and he bolted toward her.

“Bailey!” The blood on her face was dry; she was leaning against a tree with one foot held up to rest with just her toes on the ground. She had another dry, bloody trail down her leg. She leaned her head against the trunk of the tree when she saw him.

When he reached her, he ran his hand down the side of her face. He wasn’t sure what to touch, what hurt, or how much pain she was in. “Darren.” She breathed his name out on a sigh of relief; he pulled her gingerly into his arms.

“Bailey, you have to tell me what hurts. What happened?”

She sighed into his chest as she snuggled up to him. “I lost my footing up near the rock outcropping, and—”

“You fell from there!” He sounded horrified.

“No. I was near there, and I was making my way up the path. The ground was muddy, and I lost my footing. I fell down the embankment. My ankle twisted pretty good, and I jarred my hand, but it feels all right. My knee’s torn up, and I hit my head on a tree.” She peered up to him. “But hey, your dog’s okay.” She tried for a small smile.

Macy was racing in circles around them, and Bailey sank against his chest again. Darren was more relieved than he thought he was capable of. “You hit your head?” He could see the scuff on her forehead, and blood had dripped down the side of her cheek. “Look at me.” He pulled back, holding her at arm’s length. He studied her eyes, looking for any abnormal movements or responses. “Any blurred or double vision?” She shook her head. “Fatigue?”

“Hell yes. I feel like I’ve been hobbling for hours.”

“If this happened at the outcropping, then you likely have. You’ve made it halfway home from there. When did you leave the house?”

She glanced away for a moment. She looked embarrassed. “This morning?” It wasn’t a question, but her voice certainly sounded as though it was. “I ran a few miles farther than the outcropping. I was actually on my way back when I fell.”

“Jesus, Bailey, that’s a long way for someone who’s out of practice and who had muscle spasms like you did just yesterday. What the hell were you thinking?” His voice caught in his throat. He knew exactly what she was thinking. Actually, she probably wasn’t thinking at all—she was seeing red when she’d taken off with Macy in tow. “We need to get you to the hospital. You need some X-rays.”

“Darren, I don’t have insurance anymore, and—”

“Well, thank God you know the doctor.” He smirked.

“I’ve really only made it halfway back from the rocks?” She looked disappointed.

“Sorry. Hop on.” He turned and lifted her to straddle his waist. It took nearly an hour to get back, and that was resting occasionally. She could put some weight on her foot, which was at least encouraging, but after twenty feet or so of trying to walk, the pain would become too much, and he’d lift her again. When the house finally came into view, she sighed.

He ran Macy inside while Bailey waited in his car, and then he took her to the hospital.

They didn’t spend much time at the hospital at all. He slipped her into radiology quickly, and she sat on a stool in one of the empty X-ray rooms as he reviewed the images on a large monitor. He toggled between the different views of her ankle, and he took his time. His face was serious, his concentration evident, and she was mesmerized at the sight of him in his world.