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He lifted back, just an inch, and looked up and down my body.
My chest kept heaving. He could see my breasts through my shirt, but he didn’t touch them. I bit down on my lip. I wanted him to touch them. I wanted the feel of his hand there, but I couldn’t ask that. I couldn’t let him know. A small whimper slipped past, and his eyes shot to mine. A small flicker of shock was there. It was gone instantly.
Then he stepped back. As soon as his hands released me, I crumbled to the floor. I should’ve kicked at him, something so he would know not to do that again, but he was quicker than me. He always had been. He would’ve done it again. I would’ve been pressed against the wall once more and my body couldn’t handle that. Everything was a mess inside of me.
He moved back a step. “What’s happened to you, Emma?”
I couldn’t look away from him. He held me captive. My heart wouldn’t stop racing.
“You’re like a feral cat.”
My knees came to my chest and I wrapped my arms around them. With a groan, I tucked my forehead against them. I wanted everything to go away. I wanted my brother back. I wanted no Jeremy in Mallory’s life. And I didn’t want Carter to have become this man in front of me. Shame filled me next as the throb picked up again. God, how could I want this man? He was cold, detached. He killed others.
So have you. A nagging thought whispered in the back of my mind.
The pizza box was thrown beside me. The smell overwhelmed me. My mouth salivated again and my stomach clenched. I reached for it without thinking. I shoveled a slice into my mouth, then tried to get more in. I was so hungry.
After the third slice, I choked back the vomit. My stomach growled again, but in agony this time. Then I shot to my feet and looked around, panicked as I felt more vomit spew inside of my closed mouth.
Carter pointed to a side door and I burst through it the next second. I fell to my knees around the toilet and emptied everything back out. More and more kept coming up, even more and I wondered how that was possible. There was nothing in my stomach. It was like my body wanted to erase everything as much as I did.
When I stopped, with my mouth covered in vomit, I rested my forehead against the lid and gasped for breath. I felt so weak, so helpless in that moment.
A glass of water was placed beside me. A gentle hand brushed some of my hair back as Carter lowered himself to the ground. He gazed back at me, but this time it was the old Carter. The killer from before was gone. He gave me a small grin. “I’ll take care of you.”
Relief soared through me and my body gave way. But before I slid to the floor in a crumbled heap again, he caught my arm and hoisted me to his lap. Then as I curled into him, his hand went back to my hair and he brushed it back. Slowly, with my heart still pounding, I rested my head against his chest and felt his other arm came around me.
Finally.
Carter cleaned me up. He lifted me, sat me on the bathroom counter, gave me mouthwash, and held the glass so I could spit it out. After I was given more water, he carried me back to the kitchen table. This time, he gave me the crust from one of the pizza slices. With stern instructions to nibble on it, he left for awhile.
I didn’t know what he did, or where he disappeared to. I knew he was in the penthouse, I could hear him on the phone, but that was all I cared about. He wasn’t leaving so I picked up the crust and started to do as he sa
id. I nibbled on the piece of bread until the entire thing was gone. Then I waited, and when nothing came up this time, I grabbed another piece of pizza. This time I tore some of the toppings off and nibbled on those.
I almost groaned at how good they tasted.
It’d been so long since I had real food inside of me.
“How are you feeling?”
He stood beside the counter, watching me. A blank expression was on his face and I couldn’t stop the shiver down my back. He was a stranger again. This was the Carter that I didn’t know, and I wondered where the old one went before I remembered the phone call. It must’ve been the phone call that changed him.
“I’m fine.”
He frowned and took the seat across from me.
He moved like a ghost and folded into the seat with a grace of a panther, one that stirred with purpose.
“What are you thinking, Emma?”
I jerked at my name. It was foreign to me. The sensual way he had spoken before was gone. It was then that I realized he had done it on purpose. He wanted to invoke desire within me so he had. Was everything about him a weapon? His voice, his eyes, his body, his mind?
I looked down at my plate. “You’ve changed.”
“Yes,” he sighed. “I suppose I have. Things were,” he hesitated, “easier back then.”
I looked back up.
