“You don’t get to ask me that.” Haley’s on her feet and across my room in seconds. I’m up after her fast and I grab her arm before she can reach the doorknob. When I turn her toward me, she jerks away, then slams her palms into my chest. “Don’t touch me!”
She gasps and stares at her hands as if they’re covered in blood. “Oh, God, I did it again.”
I worked too hard getting her back to reality and I’m not going to let her slip away. I take her hands and plant them on my chest. “Do it again. If you need to shove me. Do it. You know I can take it.”
Haley snatches her hands back and stumbles until she smacks the door. “This is why I gave up fighting. I did something horrible and I don’t want to do it again.”
This is it. This is as close as I’ve come to being inside Haley’s head and if I say something wrong, if I move the wrong way, she’ll shut down and I could lose the only good thing in my life. “Do what? What don’t you want to do again?”
Her fingers splay open and she holds them up in a stopping motion, but I’m not what she’s battling. There’s something in her brain, someone there torturing her.
“Do what?” I urge.
It’s like a shadow descends and she shrinks from it. “I don’t want to hurt anyone.”
I’ve never been a praying guy, but the goose bumps forming along my neck tell me something evil is attacking her soul. “You’re only hurting yourself by not talking to me.”
Haley breathes. One breath in. Another released. A steady movement of her chest rising and falling. Hours could have passed as I watch her wage a war in her own mind.
“There is no answer you could give that will make me change how I feel about you.”
“And if he did—” a strangled sound escapes her throat “—do it...it still doesn’t make what I did right or what I did to Kaden...or how I hurt Jax and my family and my grandfather. What I did was wrong and I’m useless and I’m pathetic and...”
“You are none of those things.” Anger swells up in me, directed at Matt. If I’m not careful, I’ll take it out on Haley. Not wanting to hear her berate herself any longer, I bridge the distance and pull her in to me. “There is nothing you can say to change us. Nothing.”
Haley’s hands fist the material of my shirt. For once in our damned relationship she’s relying on me. I rain kisses into her silky hair and rub her back.
“Nothing,” I repeat.
I hold on to Haley, wishing I was twisting that son of a bitch’s neck. He hit her and not in the sparring type of way. “What happened with Kaden?”
Haley rests her head on my shoulder and gestures to where Kaden’s glove had made contact. “The hit to the head. It triggered some stuff. Do you think I’m crazy because I freaked?”
“No. I think Matt’s an asshole.” I think Matt’s a fucking dead man. “How often did it happen with Matt?”
My heart beats several times.
“Once,” she whispers. “That’s when I walked away.”
“Jesus.”
“I hit him back,” she mumbles into my chest. “I made him bleed. If I showed restraint, then maybe it wouldn’t have been so bad.”
Every muscle in my body convulses. He’s dead. He’s fucking dead. The damned bastard won’t walk another day. “I’m glad you hit him back.”
She becomes limp in my arms. “It’s funny. I spent my entire life learning how to fight and I never thought of it as hurting someone. It was a sport—the ultimate chess match—and I was good at it. When I stepped into the ring, my intentions were never to hurt. My intentions were to use my skills against another person with skills. But with Matt, I meant to hurt him and I did. Doesn’t that make me as bad as him?”
I set my hands on her shoulders and move so I’m eye level to Haley. “He hit you.”
She flinches with the word hit. “He hurt me.”
“Hit.” I flip back through our conversation and realize she’s never fully admitted what he did. “He attacked you and you defended yourself. This wasn’t a sparring match or a tournament. Someone you trusted failed you. That makes him an asshole and you justified.”
Haley cracks her neck to the side and steps from me. I allow her the space, because she’s heading away from the door. Her fingers brush along the top of my dresser, touching two of my watches, a class ring and a bottle of cologne.
She assesses the room. The judgment I’d been waiting for since the first night I brought her here settles on her face. “Why are you with me? You could have anyone, yet you’re with me.”
“What you mean to say is that I’m rich.”
“And I’m poor. I lived in a homeless shelter.”
I shrug. “And I lived in my car.”
“You can’t understand me.” She dangles the Rolex from her fingers. “It’s not the same.”
“No, it’s not. There are things about us that are different, but don’t try to make me out to be something other than what I am when I’m with you. Being with you is the only time I’m okay living in my own skin.”
“Why me?” There’s a taunt in her voice and she’s looking to pick an argument. “Did you get tired of girls who would give you whatever you wanted and decided to go for the chase?”
“Why are you pushing me so hard?”
“I’m not,” she says. But she is. She doesn’t like what I said to her about Matt.
“Last night you weren’t sure you wanted us. Now that I know something intimate about you are you going to do what you do best? Are you going to hole up in your head and run away?”
“You’re a jerk,” she spits out.
I throw out my arms. “I sure am, but at least I’m not playing dead. Are you fighting or are you running? Because this is on you. You can say whatever you want and you can push me as hard and as long as you want, but I’m not tapping out.”
Haley stands by my bed, unblinking and unmoving, and because I’ve already tossed it all on the table, I decide to give up the last of my pride. “And so you know, I’m a virgin, Haley. I’ve never had sex with any of those girls. You were never about the chase.”
Like I’ve announced I have eight nipples, she clumsily sits back onto my bed. “Why are you telling me this?”
“Because you’re the girl I’ve been waiting for. If you want to break up, then you’re going to have to do it because I won’t. You’re it for me, and I’m not walking away.”
Haley stares at the carpet. A sad song begins to play on the television. It’s the part in the movie where the couple breaks up. Eventually, they get back together. It’s what happens in movies, but as Haley has reminded me time and time again, this is real life. People lose their jobs, their homes... They lose each other and in real life, the pain actually hurts.
“I’m falling for you.” It was a whisper, barely audible. I heard it more with my heart than I did with my ears and it was the most beautiful sound. “I’m falling for you, but I don’t want to.”
She bends forward and her hair hides her face. I crouch in front of her and tuck her hair behind her ear. “I’m not Matt. Me and you, we aren’t a repeat of the past.”
“I know.”
“No, you don’t.”
She nods like she understands, but the truth doesn’t reflect in her eyes.
“I’m not Matt.”
“I know,” she whispers again.
“Then you say it.”
Haley twists her fingers into her hair and barely whispers, “You’re not Matt.”
“Then why do you keep comparing me to him?”
Haley
West’s statement is like a front kick to the gut. “I don’t.”
“You have been the only person to see who I am. You’ve never looked at me as a Young. You’ve never looked at me as a free ride. You have always seen me—
the good and the bad.”
West slides his fingers into my hair and rubs the strands between his thumb and forefinger before letting it fall back to my shoulder. “But whenever we’re close, I see Matt’s ghost in your eyes. When we fight, sometimes I don’t think it’s me you’re fighting against. I love you, Haley, but I’m not willing to share you, even with a memory.”
My eyes flash to his and I see the honest ache telling me how much speaking the truth costs him. West isn’t Matt. I know this. West and Matt could never be sorted into the same category. West: refined in his own bad boy way and smoldering blue eyes that whisper his secret thoughts, both the heartwarming emotional and the blush-inducing erotic.
But it’s more than that. The emotions growing inside me... It’s more than the warmth, the constant flutters, the excitement of meeting his gaze from across the room. It’s more than a crush. The longer I’m with West, the more I realize that’s exactly what it was between me and Matt. I crushed on Matt...hard...because if it was love, he wouldn’t have treated me like he did.
“Maybe we’re doing this backwards,” says West with a crazy gleam in his eye.
“How’s that?” Because this all feels rather hopeless.
“The only way to get rid of a ghost is to exorcize it.”
“Exorcize it?”
“Yeah.” West brushes his thumb against my knee and I watch the muscles in his arms ripple as he moves. “Fill you up with memories of me so there’s no room left for him.”
I wrap my arms around my waist, trying desperately to disappear. “What if it’s not the memories that frighten me?”
“Then what scares you?”
“What if I’m not terrified of you or him?” I swallow, unsure if I have the courage to say the words. “What if I’m terrified of me?”
His nonresponse confirms there’s no hope—none at all. Then my skin prickles with the light caress of fingers against my cheek. West urges me to lift my chin and it’s hard when the weight of his silence crashes on my shoulders.
“Then I’ll teach you how to fight the fear.”
“Teach me?”
“Teach you. First you’ve got to trust me.”
West’s fingers linger on my skin and I tilt my head toward the pleasing tickle. “I trust you.”
“Some,” he says. “But not all the way. When things get rough, you lock yourself in your head...resort to where you feel safest. Let me in, Haley. Let me bear some of your load.”
I know what he’s talking about...that smothering feeling when things grow too complicated. Those moments when I would have turned to my father or my brother, but then everything became lost and I had to learn how to depend on me. “How?”
“Start by talking to me.” West edges onto the bed near the pillows and offers me his hand. Tension thickens the air and I have to work harder to breathe. This is it; I either trust West or I don’t. I either tap out or fight.
My hand inches for his, a battle between falling and leaping. I’m choosing this—I’m choosing West. It’s like stepping out of a two-dimensional universe and walking into another when my fingers meet his and he draws me up along beside him. Colors seem richer, smells stronger. West snakes his thumb underneath my shirt and heat builds between our skin.
“Talk to me,” he says again. “Uncensored.”
I suck in air and I’m immersed in West’s heady scent. “What do I talk about?”
“You can admit I go too fast, but at the same time you don’t want to stop.” West slides his hand along the curve of my waist, then slips one fingertip past the fabric of my jeans near my hip. Electricity jolts my body and I move with the thrilling shock. While I love the sensation, it also terrifies me.
“Nope. Gotta say it, not think it.”
“I like kissing you.” More than like. I love it. I crave it. I dream of it at night and wake up frustrated when I find myself alone in a cold bed.
West sinks lower and skims his hand along my thigh. “Just the kissing? You’re not a fan of this?” And he mimics the delicious movement.
I melt into him. “I’m a fan.”
West leans down, his breath hot on my ear. “And this?”
Superb, divine goose bumps. “Superfan.”
“And the kisses along your neck?” he murmurs.
I wiggle against him, wishing he would. “Love those.”
His hands snake around me and his strong palms glide along my spine while he blows warm air along my neck. I turn my head, exposing more of the skin there, silently begging.
“What do you want? No more staying locked inside your head. You have to tell me.”
“Kiss me.”
West’s lips connect with my skin behind my ear and I go weak with the teasing pleasure.
“More?” he whispers.
I nod with the frequency of my rapid heartbeats, then remember he’ll wait until I say the words. “More.” He immediately rewards me by parting his lips and kissing the same spot again.
My breathing hitches when West flips us and lays me down on the bedspread. Air rushes out of the fluffy blanket and my hair spills all around. West hovers over me, our bodies not quite touching. His knee rests between my legs.
My hand shakes as I stroke the smooth skin of his face. West is beautiful with his blue eyes and golden-blond hair. My fingers explore down his shoulder, along his arm. He’s always been strong, but with the training his muscles have become powerful, refined. Greedy, I yearn to admire the results.
Bolder than I have ever been, I ignore the redness forming on my face and tug at the hem of his shirt—a nonverbal West happily agrees to. With his shirt up and over his head, I trail a path along the plane of his chest and stomach; tracing the well-defined lines.
West closes his eyes as if my touch affects and seduces him. My pulse thuds to the point my frame quakes. I know what I want and the courage to say it evades me until West brings my hand to his mouth. His lips press against my palm and I rush out the words, “I dream of you at night. Of this.”
“Me, too.” He releases my hand and I draw forward, holding my arms in the air. West grasps the hem of my shirt and he slowly edges the material up while leaving hot, lingering kisses along my stomach, between my breasts and onto my neck. West’s body is blazing and what I love is the thump of his heart against my skin.
“I love you,” he says.
Nervous adrenaline creeps into my bloodstream. I love him. I do. I love his strength, his tenacity, his loyalty and even his impulsiveness. But I’m frightened how those three words said aloud will change everything.
With his body blanketing mine, our hearts in tune with each other, the emotion I’ve been fighting overpowers me and I’ve never liked the feeling of losing control. My lip trembles as a hot tear escapes and streams down my cheek.
West catches it with a kiss. “We’re strong together, Haley. Stronger than we are apart.”
“I don’t feel strong,” I whisper.
“Then I’ll be strong enough for both of us.”
My fingers dig into his shoulders and I cling to him. “I love you.”
West captures my lips and the intensity of the embrace unravels all train of thought. Our hands are everywhere: touching, exploring. His on my body. Mine on his. A strap of my bra down, then another.
We roll and his hands are tight in my hair, our tongues slide urgently against the other, and, as I hook a leg around his, we roll again and my body arches with the way we fit.
Hands wander lower and with warmth spreading everywhere I whisper his name—one time, then another—and with a few more touches he whispers mine. West’s fingers pause on the button of my jeans and we both snap open our eyes.
Our breaths come out in gasps. “I want you to be my first. This means something—making love means something. It’s why I haven?
??t done it before. I’ve been waiting for you.”
I lick my lips and nod, wanting to know what it’s like to be with someone who loves me and I love in return. My lips brush against his and West slips the button through the hole and the unzipping of my jeans becomes the only noise in the room.
Silence as we stare at one another. My jeans are unzipped. We can go forward or we can go back, and even though I’m scared as hell, I don’t want to go back.
My fingers find his jeans and West’s grace eludes me. A metal button through an open space of material. It should be easy, simple, uncomplicated, but my fingers fumble. One time. A second time. With the third, I feel an indention of the button forming on the tip of my finger.
West lays his hands over mine and I close my eyes, wishing I’d die. He doesn’t push me away. Instead he guides my fingers in a fluid and effortless flick and his zipper crackles.
I swear to God my heart can’t beat any faster.
With my bra and jeans half off, I flounder with the blanket beneath me.
“Are you cold?” he asks.
Nope. Not at all. In fact, I’m burning up, but being naked is intimidating. I guess I’m more experienced, but really...I’m not. “Do you mind?”
He shakes his head and under the covers we shed the last of our clothes. We lie on our sides, facing each other, and West runs his hand along the curve of my body. He unashamedly looks through the gap, seeing more of me than anyone else has. “You’re beautiful.”
My mouth slants up and West gathers me to him. We lie there for a while, enjoying the warmth and the new feeling of being next to each other. I steal a few glances at West and I know he knows that I’m satisfying curiosity by peeking, but still...it’s weird and exhilarating.
“Can we... Can you turn the lights off?” Because while West is stunning, there’s an intimacy I’d prefer in the dark.
The kindness in his eyes almost removes the sting of the blush on my cheeks. He turns off the television, shifts off the bed, and I bite my lip as I watch his bare butt and the way the muscles in his shoulders move as he crosses the room.