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Damn. She’d scored a direct hit.
“Did he hurt you?”
His concerned whisper disarmed her, and tears filled Raine’s eyes. “No.”
“Did he wear a condom?”
“Yes.” She barely managed to get the word out as she dropped her head. Tears dripped to the floor. Seeing her so broken tore his heart in two.
Without a word, Hammer pulled her to his chest, then wrapped her in his arms. Raine melted into him and fell completely apart.
Swallowing his eviscerating regret, he focused on what she needed. Sighing, he closed his eyes and rested his chin on the top of her head, holding her close.
“Shh, don’t cry, precious. It’s all right.” He dropped a chaste kiss on her forehead.
It would be…but things had changed between them irrevocably. The knowledge that she was no longer an innocent to be sheltered at all costs lay between them. Hammer had to keep reminding himself that her lack of virginity didn’t make a fucking difference. She still wasn’t ready to handle his needs.
After several solemn minutes, Raine inched back, eyes swollen, cheeks mottled. “I’m sorry. I got your shirt wet.”
“It’s nothing,” Hammer assured. Cupping her chin, he forced her gaze to his. “Why don’t you go back to your room and take a nice, long bath?”
“I need to slide in this last batch of muffins for you,” she whispered, as if unsure her peace offering was enough.
“I’ll take care of them.”
“You? Cook?” She tried to laugh but choked on a residual sob.
Hammer flashed her a mock scowl. As their gentle teasing warmed his heart, she sent him a watery smile. Relief slithered through him. Whatever happened next, she was the same Raine. Now he had to suck up the disappointment that she’d given Zak what he’d wanted so badly.
After she slid the muffins in the oven and set the timer, Hammer promised he would remove them once they finished baking.
“You’re sure you got this?” She set the fire extinguisher on the counter. “I’m leaving this here. You know, just in case.”
“Get out of here. Go take your bath.”
As Raine exited, Hammer rolled the tension from his shoulders. Glaring at the clock, he mentally counted off the minutes until he could extract the muffins, lock himself inside his office, and drown his disappointment in a bottle of Patrón. Sure, that would get him through tonight. But what would happen when she tempted him again? Worse, how would he survive if she ever truly fell in love with someone else?
Nearly five years later
August 31
New York
“So now that we’ve left Graffiti, I have to ask… Who are you and what have you done with my friend?”
Liam O’Neill watched as his pal, Seth Cooper, skated a hand across the laminated table at this dive of a twenty-four-hour diner and reached for his sandwich. Liam yanked his plate away. “What does that mean? And you’ve got your own meal. Keep your hands off my food.”
“What did you say?” Seth was faster, snagging up half of his sandwich and shoving it in his mouth with a smirk. His cheeks bulged as he all but inhaled it.
“Choke, you bastard.” Liam shook his head with a laugh. “It would serve you bloody right. And if you touch the other half, you’ll lose a hand.”
“Spoilsport.” He mumbled around the ham and cheese. “Now, seriously. What’s going on?”
“Nothing.” Seth taking his food was one thing, but dissecting him? Hell no.
“Yeah? That scene you did tonight with Dominique was awfully…intense.”
Liam raised a brow. “Meaning?”
“I watched you work her over with that single-tail. It isn’t your usual, man. At least not until recently.”
“Are you accusing me of sceneing when I’m not in the right frame of mind?”
“Nope. I’m accusing you of having unresolved feelings about your divorce.”
Liam glared. “Are you really going there? We could talk about unresolved feelings all night. You first.”
“I’ve been working through that shit for a long time, and you know it. So stop deflecting and talk to me. I’m your friend.”
“You are, so stop acting like my shrink. It’s been nearly a year. I’m fine.” Well, mostly. “So stop worrying. I simply gave Dominique what she said she needed.”
Seth swallowed down the last of his bite and wiped his mouth with a napkin. “I know she’s a masochist, but you’re no sadist. If the need to give pain was in your psyche, you would have been dishing it out for years. Instead, it’s like you flipped a switch and went from melting subs with pleasure to whipping them into blissful agony. The change in your MO has me worried, man.”
With a scowl, Liam devoured the remaining half of his sandwich, chasing it down with a swig of beer and using the moment to craft his words. “I discovered I’m good with a whip. Why does that require explanation? After all, I seem to recall you’re decent with one yourself.”
