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And I knew without a shadow of a doubt that this decision could cost me my life. He’d admitted as much. It should have been a simple one, but half an hour later as he bent me over the bathroom sink and licked the inside of my thighs, I decided order could wait a little longer.
After Daniello had licked my center raw and soothed it in the shower, I couldn’t help the distant voice that ran through my mind.
“Stupid or hardheaded, Red, you can’t be both.”
Weeks passed with no word from Daniello. I wanted to believe that he would keep his word and tell me when his departure would be his last, but the more time that passed, the more certain I was that I’d imagined his sincerity. Were women disposable to him? It seemed the case when it came to matters of business. And yet each time I was in his arms, surrounded by his warmth, and felt the passion behind his kiss, I felt completely worshiped.
Suddenly, I was clouded by foreign feelings, the need to be close, to be wanted by him. Was I feeling for him or simply craving what his touch evoked?
Falling in love with him would make me an absolute fool. I didn’t know if I was even capable anymore. Being addicted to his touch was just as dangerous due to the nature of our relationship. Obsessing over him had been a constant since the moment our eyes met.
And I longed for those eyes, the light color of them that twinkled when he was amused, and the dark brown irises that greeted me with desire when he was hungry.
My heart pounded each time I turned my key in the door and fell flat with a quick sweep of my empty condo.
I hated everything about what I felt and yet I silently willed the new vicious cycle to end with an appearance, a whisper, one more moment, one touch, a kiss.
I’d become possessed by a ghost, both in body and in mind.
Another week passed as I remained a prisoner in my house, hoping for any sign of him and coming up empty.
Hell had officially frozen over. I was living for a man.
Disgusted with weakness, I’d made it a point to leave my condo every night the following week. I’d spent hours shopping for shit I didn’t need, tripling my workload, and exhausting my body with workouts to the point of passing out without a shower. I was doing the opposite of what I set out to do and simply went through the motions.
Nina had noticed my change in behavior, taking me to lunch twice to ask what my hang up was. At the second Spanish Inquisition, I’d finally admitted I’d gotten involved with an overbearing, infuriating ass of a man with an oversized ego and a persuasive cock. It was the most I’d ever shared, which sickened me even more.
“You sound like a woman in love to me,” she’d said with a shit-eating grin.
“Not love, lust. Definitely just lust,” I said confidently as we both finished our plates. “I know hardly anything about him except that I lose myself in him so easily…” I drifted off as I tried to explain his effect, but was at a loss for words when it came to explaining how he made me feel. “The situation is all wrong. We…us together…we are all wrong, but I just want to know why he feels the need to be so damned—”
“You are over-thinking this, Taylor, and dare I say, you sound kind of…needy.” She laughed loudly at my discomfort.
“You’re right. I don’t want to hear it.”
She straightened in her seat and ran a manicured nail down the side of her water glass. “Taylor, who taught you there was anything wrong with developing feelings for a man?”
I gave her a straight face as I confessed the truth. “Every man I’ve ever developed feelings for.”
She simply nodded as she averted her eyes, not pressing me further because she knew I wouldn’t go there.
“Taylor, this relation—this thing sounds like a low maintenance relationship with no strings, no expectations, and incredible sex. Tell me again what the issue is, because from what I can tell, it’s perfectly suited to you.”
And that was the bitch slap I needed to put the whole thing in perspective.
No longer obsessed with Daniello’s motive for control over me in and out of bed, I kept my routine of perfect order. Once again comfortably alone at home washing dishes, I heard my phone vibrate as I worked suds into a coffee cup.
“Taylor Ellison.”
Silence on the other end had me about to hang up when I looked at the screen and felt the shock wave drift through my limbs. It was a Tennessee area code. I waited for words on the other end of the line with heavy breath.
“Taylor…it’s…it’s me, Amber.”
“Amber,” I repeated as I dropped the cup into the sink, hearing it break and staring at the broken pieces. Her voice was nowhere near what I was used to. It wasn’t the voice of the little girl I’d left or the soft-spoken teen that I’d had a conversation with through a bedroom window. It was the voice of a woman.
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sp; “I…” A harsh sob escaped her. “I need your help.”
