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When she startled from her faint-like slumber in his arms, it was almost eleven, and he was sound asleep still. She studied his face, wondering why she couldn’t resist his touch. He was handsome in a breathtaking kind of way, but so were others. It was him… their chemistry, the way their bodies fit together like perfectly matched pieces of a puzzle. And still, there was at least one other woman in his life, and she hated him for it. Hated herself too, for letting herself be used like that. For needing it so badly.
She shifted, pulling away from him, and tugged at the sheet. He mumbled something in his sleep, but then awakened and reached for her breast. She held her breath for a moment, the decision to leave still lingering in her brain, but then gave in under his touch.
“It’s strange for someone like you to be so skilled with women,” she said, her voice starting to tremble as his hand moved in small circles on her skin.
He chuckled. “Someone like me? Really? You can’t even say it?”
“How do you do it?”
A hint of a vain smile tugged at his lips. “While other guys watch porn, I read about pleasuring women. It’s, um, much more instructive,” he added in a low whisper, placing a kiss on her neck. “Don’t you agree?”
She closed her eyes, trying to steady herself. “You mean, likeFifty Shadesor stuff like that?”
His grin widened and his eyes sparkled as he shot her a quick glance. “Maybe. Whatever the lady wants, the lady gets,” he added, whispering close to her neck. Her skin reacted when his breath touched it, but her mind was turning ice cold.
“Who else’s been in this bed tonight?” she asked, her voice chilly.
He sighed and turned on his back. His hand left her body barren, aching for more. “We’re back to this again?”
She bit her lip, but decided to continue. Maybe it was time to have a real conversation with him. “I feel used. One of the many who rush over whenever you want sex and leave when you’re satisfied.”
He folded his arms under his head and looked straight at her. The smile was gone. A flicker of impatience darkened his eyes. “We use each other, all right? Don’t tell me it’s something else, ’cause I’m not buying it.”
She shook her head and rose, leaning into her elbow, ready to get out of bed but still not wanting to. “How many times have I offered to speak with Alana about you? Then we could stop hiding.”
His jaws clenched. “I’m not ready for that. Honestly, neither are you. This is a small town, not somewhere you can lose yourself. Everyone would turn on you and make your life a living hell.”
“I don’t care.” As she spoke the words, she looked away from him, wondering. Maybe he was right, and she was insane, wanting what was never hers to begin with. “The question is, are you able to commit to a real relationship?”
He sat on the side of the bed, looking at her with pity. He touched her face with his fingers, caressing her cheek gently, then playing with a strand of her silky hair. “Why mess up a good thing?”
She breathed away the molten rush that mellowed her resolve under his touch. “I’m not one of the girls you have lined up, dying for you to call. I’m special, and I deserve someone special. If you haven’t figured that out by now, I guess you never will.”
He nodded a few times, staying silent for a moment. “This is who I am, Alexandria, and I’m fine with it. We can make each other happy every now and then, or we can go our separate ways. It’s up to you entirely.”
Tears of humiliation stung her eyes. She’d gambled and lost, her hand not strong enough. He was a much better player than she was, mostly because she was not a player at all. Somewhere in the past several months, she’d fallen for him. Against all common sense, and knowing it could never be, she was deeply in love with the indifferent, callous bastard who could light her blood on fire with one touch.
He could never know it.
She stood, wrapping the sheet around her body and hiding her face. Feeling weaker by the second, she started looking for her clothes, backtracking the path that led to the front door. The memory of their embrace when she’d first arrived brought a sob to her chest. Breathing deeply, she managed to gather her things under his impenetrable gaze and keep the threat of tears at bay.
She was leaving, and he didn’t care. He wasn’t saying anything or doing anything to stop her.
When she was almost at the door, he asked, “How will I know what you decide?”
She looked at him for a long moment, letting her eyes burn into her memory the sight of his naked body leaning casually against the wall. “You’ll know when I don’t take your calls anymore.”
She opened the door to leave, hoping he’d stop her, but he didn’t budge. Almost running to her car, she didn’t look back, but heard the door close behind her.
Barely seeing the road through her tears, Alexandria drove straight to the coast, sobbing hard. Pain ripped through her chest as she repeatedly told herself this was it, the final goodbye, the moment where sanity returned to her ravaged mind. And perhaps she could still save herself somehow.
About an hour later, she ran across a deserted and sunny stretch of beach, heading toward the water. Without bothering to get undressed, she rushed into the frozen waves of the Pacific, welcoming the awakening shock of the freezing brine and the merciless strength of the powerful surf hitting her body until it was numb.
“Oh, God, what have I done?” she cried, despairing and brokenhearted. “What the hell was I thinking?” She sobbed still, her breath shattered by the shaking of her body, her teeth clattering from the cold.
When she crawled back to the beach, she could barely walk. She let herself fall onto the sand and wailed until she was out of breath, her tears lost in the salty water dripping from her hair.
“I wasn’t myself,” she whispered, when the tears had finally stopped. “I still am not.”
