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But then surely he wouldn’t be offering us his help if that was the case. Unless my first theory is right.
He’s playing the Good Samaritan and it has nothing to do with the lust we shared, fleeting and broken, a promise that will be left unfulfilled. He’ll probably snap at me if I ever bring it up.
The city rolls by as we drive from my crappy neighborhood, over the bridge, and toward the nicest neighborhood I’ve ever seen. The buildings are like shining beacons in the moonlight, stretching up toward the sky, and the streets are clean and well-maintained. None of the street lamps are broken and I don’t see signs of any graffiti.
“This is where you live?” I murmur.
He glances at me, face tight, and then nods shortly. “Home sweet home.”
“It’s beautiful. I can’t believe you’re letting us stay.”
His face tightens even more at my words but I can see a heat in his eyes. His temples pulse and his jaw trembles, everything about him seems on the verge of erupting. But is he angry at the situation or is it something more...
“I need you, Callie. I need every fucking part of you.”
But no, no, that’s just my imagination playing cruel tricks, making me think of things that couldn’t possibly be true.
Mom wakes up as Conrad is guiding us into the underground garage. Blinking and leaning forward, she looks around the semidarkness. “Are we there yet?”
An anxious wave washes over me at the childish quiver in her voice, as though the whole world is full of danger and it’s only a matter of time before another catastrophe slams into us. It’s difficult and sad not to think about what sort of woman Janet Simpkins used to be, brave and confident and full of life.
“Yeah, Mom. We’re just going to park and then head upstairs to Conrad’s apartment.”
“Okay, that sounds nice. Thank you for this, Conrad.”
Conrad looks into the rearview mirror. I’m not sure he’s capable of fully smiling, but he offers her a smirk, and his eyes gleam with genuine kindness. “It’s not a problem at all. I can’t stand the idea of Callie staying in that place. And you.”
And you, tacked onto the end like he thinks I’m his main priority. Sizzling silly heat moves over my skin at the thought, but I have to be careful – have to stop dissecting his every word, every gesture as if it all has some hidden meaning.
We climb from the car and Conrad walks around the back, opening the trunk and grabbing our suitcases. We were able to pack pretty much everything we own into those suitcases, which is a sad but true fact.
He hefts them, his muscles barely straining, handling them like they weigh nothing. Nodding toward the elevator at the end, he leads the way, striding ahead as I study the way his shirt pulls tautly from shoulder to shoulder, his back thick with muscle, throbbing he’s ready to turn feral at any moment.
I walk behind him, fighting all the fantasies which flood into my mind. But it’s difficult not to imagine that I’m a piece of luggage and he’s carrying me just as easily, handling me like I weigh nothing like he can do anything he wants with me.
The memory of the kiss is burned into my lips, my soul, my everything.
The elevator is spacious and clean, well-lit.
But despite the space, I can’t stop from inhaling the scent of Conrad, his musky manliness, and glancing in the mirror so I can keep eye-fucking his thick arms, his bulging shoulders, his handsome face, and his azure penetrating eyes.
Up and up we go, and then the doors open onto a short hallway that ends in a single door.
“No neighbors?” I murmur, walking into the hallway and looking around at the clean walls and the pristine carpet.
It’s crazy how magical these simple things seem to me now, but it feels like forever since I’ve lived somewhere that didn’t stink and wasn’t covered in graffiti and grime.
“Not in the penthouse suite,” he says. “Come on.”
He walks up to the door and then quickly drops the suitcases, so suddenly I think something is wrong. I glance at him sharply.
He moves forward and grabs something from the door handle, almost too quickly for me to see. But I can make out a flash of pink material, lacy frill…
Panties? Were they pink panties?
My heart starts slamming in my chest like I’m going to be sick, like the whole world is going to crash down and squash me into a cruel mess. I look at him and he stares down at me, his eyes glimmering with something, something dark.
I scream at myself to ask him what the heck that was, but then the moment seems to pass. He reaches into his pocket and takes out his key, unlocking the door.
