She’d taken it well. She was like that, a fine-let’s-move-on kind of girl. He respected that. He respected her. So if she decided to aim all her charms at the kid sitting in front of him, self-doubt flooding his eyes, so be it.
“She’s quite a lady, Scout. Treat her well and she’ll treat you well.”
“We’ll see,” Carter mumbled.
“Great. Don’t care. So our only problem here seems to be that I don’t know what happened after Jolie called you last night.”
“Right. She wanted to come over, but Eden was still awake, and I . . . You know how Jolie is—the word ‘no’ just makes her more insistent.”
Mitch couldn’t agree—he never really paid attention to what she did after he said no to her. So he gestured for the guy to continue.
“I thought I could leave and be back right away, making sure Jolie wouldn’t decide to swing by and with Eden there . . .”
“Let me guess. Saying no took the rest of the night.”
Carter blushed, but his glare stayed put. “Yes.”
“And the wreck of a girl at my house right now is because you don’t keep your goodies to yourself well enough, drugs or otherwise.”
“Yeah, I guess so.”
Mitch sat back. Something in the way Carter was fidgeting made Mitch think the boy scout was lying. Or it might have been that the guy was starting to see a possible end to his mortality. Eden believed in Carter. He was just a confused, overwhelmed, in-way-over-his-head idiot. “Fine, you can live. Primarily because you won’t have another chance to fuck up. You are not to see Eden again. Do you understand me?”
“I need her to know how sorry I am. To make it up to her somehow.”
“Start by growing up and keeping your dick in your pants when someone you love is counting on you.” He slapped him on the shoulder and stood. “How about that?”
“I need to do something for her, Mitchell. Ask her what I can do, please.”
“We’ll see, Scout. We’ll see.” Then he shouted, “We’re all done talking, Detective. Would you like to come look for blood spatter?” He left Carter sitting dejectedly in the foggy room.
CHAPTER XXXIII
After Mitch left, Eden spent the next half-hour in a huge pool of self-pity—easily imaginable due to the amount of water that had fallen out of her eyes today. She looked at the clock again. Okay, make that an hour in pathetic-hood. More than enough. As she reawakened to her mind and body, she pushed away thoughts of how her life was meant to be and tried to focus on how it was. She couldn’t spend eighty percent of her life dreading what Chastity was doing with the remaining twenty. She wiped her cheeks on the sheet covering her. Soft sheets that smelled like him. Wait. First think about me, then him.
She was smart. In school. Reaching for a goal no one would think someone with her past capable of. But she was proving them wrong. And she could create a future, during daylight hours at least.
She was tough. Look at what she’d overcome. Still mostly sane, still finding beauty in the world. She’d always considered herself a survivor. So this was just another thing to survive.
She was good.
That one stumped her. Good. What did that even mean? Was it about polite word choices or being bluntly honest even when it hurt the people around her? Was that good? Giving instead of taking—even when she only hurt herself?
So her evil-half might do something unimaginable. She couldn’t do a thing about that, other than stay locked up. And they weren’t the same person, not where it counted. Her body was involved, but not her soul. Her soul was still hers. And she wouldn’t hide behind the trappings of a fake sense of selflessness anymore. What’s wrong with taking? Being happy?
Something triggered inside of her. Respect? If Mom could only see me now, she thought with a bitter chuckle. She sat up in Mitch’s bed, throwing off the sheet. She’d spent her life cowering under something. Enough is beyond enough. Grow a pair, Eden.
She was buck naked. It would be smart to tackle that little problem before Mitch came back. Standing tall, knowing it was a deliberate attempt to stay connected with her new-found ambition and strength, she wandered over to his dresser.
His clothes were stuffed in the drawers haphazardly—t-shirts mixed in with socks and small jewelry boxes she didn’t open. There was a line, after all. A crooked one, but a line nonetheless. He’d invited her into his home, not his junk drawers.
She chose a black cotton t-shirt that hung down to the middle of her thighs, and then searched for some shorts. No boxers, he didn’t wear them. Trying not to dwell on what was under his pants, she went into the large walk-in closet on the other side of the room. It was almost empty, all of his suits and shirts hanging neatly on one side. The other side was bare. As if he’d kept that section cleared for someone else. Gut clenching, she wondered who he was waiting for.
“Eden?”
She jumped back and dropped her hand from the rack of ties.
“You better not have left me.” His voice. Quiet. Lacking the anger that had filled it earlier, that it almost always held.
“In here.” She peeked out and saw him, his shoulders relaxing when he saw her.
“I’m glad you found your voice. But you need to get back in bed.”
“I’m okay now.”
“You look like hell. When’s the last time you slept?”
She shrugged. When she didn’t move, he approached. She would only have to lift her hand to touch him.
“Do you want me to pick you up and throw you back in bed?” he asked.
Yes. “No.”
He leaned down to slip an arm under her knees, like firemen do. Which would mean her butt would be very close to his—
“Okay! I’ll go.” Jogging over to the bed, she jumped in, the mattress bouncing under her.
He was beautiful. There was no other word for it. Strong jaw, straight nose, dark hair dangling onto his forehead. She recognized the look in his eyes, but it had never made her feel so adored before. And so warm. She resisted the urge to fan herself.
“Nice shirt,” he said.
She ran her hands down the cotton and smiled. “Better than yours.”
He glanced down at the rumbled shirt, tie and trousers he’d probably slept in, and then shrugged. “I’ve been occupied.”
With Carter. “You didn’t hurt him, did you?” She didn’t believe Mitch would do anything too stupid. Well, maybe “believe” was too strong of a word.
“Nah, we just had a talk.” He ran a hand through his hair. “He said he’ll do anything you want if you forgive him.”
Forgiving Carter’s betrayal hadn’t been the priority, just his health. “I don’t want to think about that right now. I want to—” Her eyes roamed over his body, and, suddenly, all she could think about was what was under his pants.
Say it, Eden. Say it. She took a deep breath. “I want to do something else.”
“What?” His lips were tight, suspicious, all of their usual fullness tucked between his teeth.
“Could you come here? Please?”
He looked away, considering. Not afraid. Mitch was never afraid, but right now he looked it.
“I need you,” she whispered.
His chest fell as the air rushed out. Taking the smallest steps known to man, he came over to the bed and sat down next to her feet.
“Don’t make this any harder for me.” She patted the spot next to her, the one he’d occupied the morning she’d first seen him.
He smirked. “Harder for you?” But he scooted further up on the mattress, sitting stiffly against the headboard, waiting. His face was tight, wary.
“Mitch, stop looking at me like that.”
“Tell me what’s going on, and I’ll look at you accordingly.”
“You’re very difficult, you know that?”
“I think you’ve told me that before.” He scratched his shoulder. “What’s going on, Eden?”
“I’ve had a hell of a day . . . of a month. But I’d like to thin
k I’m stronger for it.”
“Listening.” Their mutual discomfort seemed to relax him slightly.
“I need to see if I can do something. If you don’t want me to, then tell me. That’s fine. But if you’ll let me . . .”
He squinted his eyes. “Are we talking about what I think we’re talking about?”
“Lesson five.”
He cringed. “Yeah, I thought so.”
Why couldn’t he be a regular man? The one time she puts herself out there, with someone she wants and trusts, and he rejects her. “Forget I mentioned it.”
“I was hoping you just needed a shoulder to cry on. Holy shit, did I just say that?” He snapped his fingers in quick succession. “Look, I’m not what you need.”
“You’re exactly what I need. Except for the whole bastard-part.”
“Well said.”
“I trust you. I’m attracted to you. I’d like to think you’re attracted to me.” She waited for him to respond. When he didn’t, she said, “Okay, that hurts.”
He stood and began pacing in front of the bed, not looking up from the floor. “Of course, I’m attracted to you. I’m an asshole, not an idiot.”
She wished he would stop. Tell her what he was thinking, feeling, let her in just a little bit. But that wasn’t how he worked. No, Mitch was closed off so tightly, it surprised both of them every time he had an emotional response he couldn’t control.
“So what’s the problem?” she asked softly.
He paused. “You’ve thought this whole thing through, right? But have you thought about what happens if one of us walks away from this with . . . feelings”—he grimaced at the word—“that are unrequited?”
“You think I’ll fall in love with you?”
His expression was unreadable—somewhere between patronizing and wonder. “Or I with you.”
She laughed. “Yeah, like that’ll happen.”
“To my knowledge, I am capable.” He sounded offended. “Though the theory has never been tested.”
“One night isn’t enough for anyone to fall in love with anyone.”
“One night,” he mouthed, his eyes roaming down her body. He cleared his throat. “You sound so sure.”
I’m not. One night of sex might not bring two people together in love, but a bunch of random moments of kindness, comfort and trust, followed by one night of sex? Yeah, that might just do it. And she couldn’t let that happen. If the tremors in her chest meant what she feared they might, she wouldn’t be able to handle him tossing her away. “You know what? Never mind. I’ll find someone else to practice on.” Someone safer.
His eyes flared. “No. You won’t.”
She looked down, embarrassed, plucking the edge of her t-shirt like a harp. “I’d hoped you’d be the one. I was wrong. I’m sorry. Forget I mentioned it.” This was humiliating beyond reason. What had she been thinking? That whenever he looked at her, she felt more worthy of a human being? That when he spoke—even with words meant to hurt—she melted at the timber of his voice and wished it didn’t have to end? Yeah, that was what she’d been thinking. Well, yippee for her. He obviously wasn’t thinking the same thing.
“Why do you want to do this?” he asked. “With anyone, let alone me? After everything else that’s happened to you lately, don’t you think you should slow down in this particular area?”
Geez, it wasn’t possible to slow down any more. Was she going to wait until she was sixty? “Why? My body’s already done it. With you, for God’s sake! It’s my mind that hasn’t.” And so desperately wants to now. “Do you remember the look on my face when I woke up next to you? Do you have any idea how scary that was? Just the idea of it. You had your arm wrapped around me. It should have felt good.”
“You woke up naked in a stranger’s bed. No one would feel good under those conditions.”
She conceded the point with a tilt of her head. “True. But I’m twenty-three and am terrified to let anyone touch me. There has been one time— No, two times. Two times in my entire life that I’ve wanted to be touched. The first was tainted by Chastity. The second was interrupted by Carter. And then you ran away from me.” She hoped he’d wanted to stay there as much as she had. He had to have some feelings for her, not as strong as hers, but some. Didn’t he? She’d seen the fear in his eyes, the panicked look on his face when they’d separated. Carter’s entrance hadn’t caused that look. The kiss had. How that kiss had connected them. And it terrified him.
He studied her. “You’re not afraid I’ll hurt you?”
“You’d never hurt me.” Not physically, at least.
Holding her eyes, he let out his breath in one puff, nodded and sat down on the bed. “What do you want from me?”
Her chest clenched, pulse quickened. She’d asked . . . and he’d agreed. Shocking. And frightening. “Um . . . only as much as you’ll give me willingly. Never more than that. If you don’t want this, please tell me.”
“Want this? Abso-fucking-lutely. Think that everything will be the same afterwards? Not a chance in hell.” With a twitch of his jaw, he said, “But I’m a gambler. So let’s see who’s right.” He reclined back into the pillow. She could tell he was struggling, his feet tapping an inaudible beat in the air. Air that was almost suffocating her with nervousness . . . and desire. “You sure you want to do this?”
She nodded at the man who was offering himself up to her. For her needs. Her wants. Giving over the control he coiled so tightly around himself. “Kind of awkward, isn’t it?”
“You don’t know the half of it.” He glanced down to below his belt, carrying her gaze with his. He was already hard, his erection tenting his pants.
Holy crap, would that actually fit inside her? Yes, because it already had. She just hadn’t been there to feel it. It was time to remedy that. “I want to see your body,” she whispered, ready for him to change his mind at any moment, half of her hoping he would.
“Okay.” Sighing, he wiped his hands on his pants and reached for his tie.
“Wait.” She put her hands on top of his. “Can I do it?”
Nodding once, he didn’t fight her exactly, but was so tense, even the guided movements were jerky and stiff.
She pressed his hands up onto the pillow he was leaning on. “Here. Hold on to this.” She considered giving him something to bite on, he looked so nervous.
He tucked his palms under the pillow, his arms straining against the fabric of his shirt, and gave her a look of self-determination . . . and outright challenge.
Still kneeling beside him, her breathing shallow and quick, Eden leaned over to undo his tie. It slipped off and was tossed onto the floor. Okay, I can do this. One by one, she popped open the buttons of his shirt, spreading it to expose his smooth, muscular chest. Her hands shook only slightly as she pulled the ends from his pants. She felt his heart racing under her fingertips as she traced a line from his neck to his belly button, momentarily losing herself in the light dusting of hair beginning there and trailing further down. Before she got ahead of herself, she trailed her hand back up his side, eliciting a quiet moan from him.
“Can you . . .” she asked, biting her lip.
He raised himself onto his hands, bringing his body closer to hers, so she could bring each shoulder to bare. Neither of them looked at the other—he avoided her eyes while she stared at the perfection within her reach. The crumpled button-down landed on top of his tie.
“Your shoes.” Were off the second she suggested it, along with a sock nudged by the other foot and sent tumbling over the edge of the bed. She gently pushed his resistant body back down, hearing him swallow, seeing him shove his hands behind his head and the pillow crush in his grip.
She wouldn’t stop, even if she gnawed off her upper lip before she was done. As her hand brushed the hot skin above his belt, he flinched slightly, then seemed to right himself and resumed his feigned pose of relaxation. He was breathing harder, perhaps as hard as she was, but he didn’t move unless she asked, never hurrying
or touching her.
She felt his erection tap her wrist through his pants as she undid his leather belt. Her eyes focused on his as she lowered his zipper. She could do this. This was her choice, no one else’s. She wanted this to happen . . . with him.
With a gentle request of her eyes, he lifted his hips so she could pull off his trousers and throw them onto the almost-finished pile on the floor. Once the t-shirt she wore floated down, the pile was complete.