Wild: The Ivy Chronicles (15 page)

Releasing my face, he grabbed my hand and pulled me after him. At the door leading to the loft, I dug in my heels and stepped in front of him. “You don’t get to come up.” My chin lifted in a show of bravado. Courage that was hard to cling to when he looked so furious . . . with the front of his shirt wet with the beer I’d thrown at him.

“Key.” The single word dropped like a stone between us. He nodded at my bag, that nerve still ticking near his eye.

I hesitated a moment before moving, my fingers fumbling until I pulled my key out of my bag. He plucked it from my hand and unlocked my door.

I braced myself, determined not to move until he left. Me and him upstairs? Together as mad as we were? Alone? Yeah, not a good idea. I was so not on board with that.

Swinging the door open, I didn’t stand a chance though. He ignored my sputtered protest and ushered us inside the stairwell.

He shut the door with a dull thud and we were engulfed in shadows. I moved up and turned on the third step, determined to go no farther. I would not let him bulldoze over me. This ended here.

I’d left a lamp on in the loft above and a dim gold light trickled down into the stairwell, gilding the lines and planes of his face. Standing one step above him, we were almost eye-level, and I seized the advantage, letting it embolden me. “You’re not coming up here.” My voice fell loudly, echoing in the tomblike space.

“Scared of what I’ll do to you?”

My pulse jackknifed against my throat. His eyes glittered like an animal’s in the shadows of the stairwell. The air was electric, like he would erupt any moment into fire and ash.

He was still pissed at me, but there was something else in the air, too. Something that brought to mind the hot press of his body pinning me to the bathroom door . . . ordering me not to move my hands from above my head.

“No one
does
anything to me,” I countered.

He laughed almost cruelly. “Your whole life has been others
doing
things to you. Deciding how your life is going to be. Your parents. Your douche ex.”

The accusation enraged me. I didn’t want it to be true, but a piece of me buried deep acknowledged that he wasn’t totally wrong.

He continued, “You’re like that guitar of yours. Buried away from the world where no one can see or touch you.”

“Shut up,” I hissed.

“You’re scared,” he pressed. “From the moment you took me on you’ve been wondering what the hell you’re doing getting tied up with a guy that doesn’t fit into your vanilla life.” He took another step, and damn it, he was taller than me again, encroaching like an invading tank. “But you want it. You want to be with the kind of guy who will retaliate when his girl has a tantrum and splashes a drink in his face.”

His
girl?

The words simultaneously thrilled and terrified me, sparking something deep and tugging at the part of me that I kept hidden. The Georgia buried deep. Just like my guitar. He was right. Panic blossomed in my chest with the realization. Everything he said was true. He saw me. I felt stripped bare. I couldn’t hide anymore.

I swallowed. “I’m not your girl.”

“That’s where you’re wrong. You are. You just haven’t figured that out yet.”

“Oh, so now
you’re
deciding things for me,” I charged, diving for the words almost desperately.

“No. I didn’t decide it. You did. The moment you kissed me. I thought I would give you a little more time, some space to realize this, but I changed my mind.”

I made a strangling sound. “Oh?”

“About ten minutes ago when I saw that asshat sitting next to you and looking at you like you were his next meal.” He leaned in, forcing me to grab the stairwell wall and arch back from him. “I wanted to fuck him up and then throw you over my shoulder.” One corner of his mouth lifted, but there was no humor in the play of his lips. “You’ve turned me into a caveman. I’ve never acted this way before.” His eyes looked almost bleak right then. Like he didn’t want to feel this way. I could relate. “You. Me. We’re the real thing, Pearls.” His eyes gleamed in the shadows of the stairwell, willing me to see that, too.

I just couldn’t. The idea of us . . . it was too wrong . . . too crazy.

Shaking my head, I shoved at his chest. His hand locked around my wrist, fingers circling my bones completely, stopping me from pushing him away.

Feeling slightly panicked, I brought my other hand from behind me and shoved harder at him. The momentum sent me falling back on the stairs and he followed, coming over me, one hand circling around my back to soften my fall against the steps.

His knees settled on either side of my hips. I was enveloped in his hardness, in the beer-laced scent of him.

Suffocation by Logan Mulvaney wouldn’t be a bad way to go. The giddy, absurd thought fed my panic and edged me into hysteria. I hit him in the chest with my free hand.

He removed his hand from my back to grab that, too. Now both my hands were trapped between us.

“Let me go,” I growled, tugging on my hands. “Or I’ll . . .” My voice faded as I glared up at his shadowy shape.

I didn’t know what I’d do. I knew what I
wanted
to do and that scared the hell out of me. Every inch of me buzzed with an achy hunger. I actually hurt for him, but I couldn’t surrender to this. Not again. Not after he just proclaimed me his girl. That would be like me agreeing with him.

He pushed his face close to mine, his voice fierce as he rasped, “You’ve slapped me. Thrown beer on me. I think I can take whatever you’ve got. Let’s have it.”

“Let go of me,” I repeated, my mind working, not about to give up the battle. It suddenly felt life-or-death. We were not a thing. We couldn’t be.

“All right.” His hands loosened, but didn’t release me entirely. His fingers glided from my wrists and up my arms, a feather-light, sensual stroke. He rounded my shoulders and skimmed down to my collarbone. With a flick of his fingers, he brushed back the hair from my shoulders, exposing my neck to his descending mouth, and I realized he had changed his approach. He was seducing me now. And this was so much worse. So much more threatening because I couldn’t resist this Logan. The past had already taught me that.

Heart pounding, I grabbed a fistful of his short hair and yanked, pulling his head down hard with the motion, keeping that tempting mouth of his away from me.

A groan rumbled out from him, and before I knew it he had his fist in the back of my hair, too. He didn’t hurt me. He simply held me prisoner, his unyielding fingers tangled in my hair, trapping me as much as I trapped him, our bodies twisted up in each other. And then I felt it, the hard ridge of him against the inside of my thigh. Need clenched ahold of me, throbbing between my legs.

Our breaths crashed hoarsely between us, and I knew what was coming next if I didn’t get away. I released his hair and flipped over, ignoring his fingers still tangled in my hair. I’d leave hair behind to escape. As I scrambled up the steps, he let go of my hair, but then both his hands came down on my waist. He hauled me back with a growl.

I flipped over again, ready to hit him, but then his mouth was on mine and it was my turn to groan. He kissed me hard and I kissed him back just as savagely, my legs wrapping around him. The struggle of moments before became another struggle. A race toward getting each other off. We unleashed on each other. My teeth sank into his bottom lip. He made a snarling sound and I released his lip, licking it and sucking it inside my mouth until I felt him shudder against me.

The creak of the door only dimly registered. The flood of light against the backs of my eyelids only tapped at my awareness. I was so intent on the feast of Logan’s lips.

It was the sound of my name that yanked me to harsh reality.

Gasping, Logan and I broke apart and I stared in horror at the trio standing framed in the doorway.

Chapter 17

L
OGA
N,”
P
EPPER BREATHED HIS
name like she had just caught him in the middle of a criminal act.

“Should have known.” Annie crossed her arms over her chest.

“What. The fuck?” Reece choked, glaring at Logan like he was the one responsible for this scenario. Like I wasn’t an equal participant. It made me think of Logan’s accusation that people were always
doing
things
to me
. That I was just the recipient of others’ actions. The notion didn’t sit well with me.

“It’s not what it looks like,” I said, wondering what that even meant . . . and why I was trying to offer explanations.

Reece continued glaring at his brother with his hands curling and uncurling at his sides. “You couldn’t have kept it in your pants just once? Huh, Logan?”

I flinched. Pepper put a hand on Reece’s arm as though restraining him from saying more. I felt Logan stiffen beside me.

“I’m going upstairs,” I declared, not about to endure an inquisition. I had to explain my choices to my mother. Not my friends. Standing, I looked at Pepper and Reece. “Was there something you wanted to see me about . . . ?”

“I just stopped in to check on the bar and heard there was . . . an altercation between you and Logan.” Reece looked back at Logan, his gaze sharp with disapproval. “Now I understand the situation.”

“I doubt you do,” Logan shot back, his features set with annoyance.

“Oh, yeah. Then explain it to me, little brother. What am I missing here?” Reece waved a hand at us like the sight explained everything.

“It’s not like you think,” Logan returned.

I wished everyone would simply stop talking like this was something that even warranted a conversation. I was an adult. For that matter, so was Logan. What we did and didn’t do together was no one’s business.

Who are you kidding? You don’t want people talking about it because Logan doesn’t fit into your idea of who you are . . . or rather who you should be.

The cold hard truth was that I was embarrassed.

“Georgia isn’t some fling. It’s different with her.”

At that declaration, my heart tightened in my chest with equal parts thrill and terror. Logan looked at me then, his gaze steady and deep.

Reece snorted and my gaze swung to him and Pepper, reading the doubt on their faces . . . the incredulity.

“Oh, please.” Annie laughed. “Like we’re supposed to believe you two are in love?”

“I don’t care what
you
believe. Why are you even here?” Logan demanded.

She sniffed, but remained firmly in place.

“Georgia?” Pepper’s soft voice drew my gaze. Her amber eyes searched my face, asking without words if he was telling the truth. Was there something between Logan and me? Something besides the physical display they had just interrupted? It was an uncomfortable moment and for some reason I was reminded of my mother as Pepper stared at me, her expression one of confusion because I had not lived up to her expectations of me. I shook my head. Pepper was not my mother.

I felt Logan’s gaze and turned to face him. He stared at me, waiting, and I knew this was the moment. I either owned that I felt something deeper for him than mind-numbing attraction and saw it through or I shut this wild ride down now. Whatever I said would determine whether I would be his “girl” or not. The temptation to explore this thing between us was strong.

But fear was stronger.

I shook my head at him and almost immediately a shutter fell over his gaze, snuffing out the light that had been there. The light that had been there for me.

“No,” I whispered. “This can’t go anywhere between us, Logan. We’re not right . . .”

Logan nodded once, turning to face his brother. He shrugged, looking so damnably unaffected that I wanted to cry. Which only made me a contrary idiot. Like always. “Guess I was wrong.”

Something inside me crumpled as he stepped past me and left the four of us staring at one another in the stairwell. I wanted to be alone so badly right then to lick my wounds that I ached. But I wouldn’t look exactly dignified running upstairs.

Annie whistled between her teeth. “I think you actually just stomped all over his heart.” She grunted in satisfaction. “Who knew he even had one?”

Pepper whirled on her, her hair whipping around her shoulders. “Shut. Up.”

“Fine.” With a shrug, Annie turned and left. “You guys are a buzzkill, anyway.”

Pepper looked back at me, her expression uncertain, her deep amber eyes so damned pitying I wanted to scream. “Georgia . . . are you okay?”

I forced a smile that felt brittle as fractured glass. “Sure. That was a little awkward.” I motioned to the stairs where we had been caught making out. “But I’m okay.” I inhaled, filling my lungs.

Pepper bit her lips and looked between her boyfriend and me. “He looked kind of . . . crushed.”

“Pepper,” Reece cut in. “Leave it alone.”

“He’s not like you think,” I blurted, glaring at Reece, my voice angrier than I intended.

Reece arched an eyebrow at me. “No? And what do I
think
?”

“He’s not some irresponsible kid jumping from girl to girl. He’s had the world on his shoulders forever and he’s been handling it all on his own and he’s just . . . lonely.” And then it dawned on me.

Maybe that’s what all the girls had been about for Logan. His way of searching for intimacy. Connection. Feeling something, filling in the void. “I think he’s been lonely for a long time.” And I’d just failed him. I hated myself a little right then . . . until I told myself that I wasn’t the girl for him. He deserved someone who didn’t have obligations holding her down. The expectations and pressure of her family strangling her. That was me.

The creases bracketing Reece’s mouth tightened. “I know he’s not irresponsible. He’s had to carry more on his shoulders than he should have and I blame myself for a lot of that. I should have been there for him.”

Pepper rubbed his arm, consoling him. “You were young . . .”

“So was Logan. Younger than me.” Reece glanced at her before looking back at me and continuing. “As for Logan jumping from girl to girl . . .” His voice faded and he looked me up and down meaningfully, the implication clear. I was just one in a long line.

He did think his brother was a man-whore.

I shut my eyes in a tight blink and batted away the idea that I had somehow changed him. Even if he was looking for a relationship with me, he wasn’t the kind of guy I could bring home to my parents. They would never accept him, and that wouldn’t be fair to him.

Reece continued, “I don’t know how far this thing between you two has gone.”

My face burned and Reece’s lips tightened, obviously inferring that it had gone far.

“Logan has never been into monogamy, Georgia.” His voice gentled, his eyes full of concern. “I hate to see you get hurt.”

“I’ve never seen him like he was just now over any other girl,” Pepper interjected. “Maybe it’s different this time—” She stopped when Reece sent her a look.

“You willing to bank on that?” He inclined his head to me, still using that kind voice. “Georgia is our friend,” he reminded her.

“And Logan is your brother,” she returned.

“I’m going up to bed,” I inserted, over and done listening to them talk about me like I wasn’t even standing in front of them.

“Sure.” Pepper nodded, moving to take a step upstairs. “Want some company for a little while?”

“No, I’m tired.”

She continued to bob her head in that eager manner, watching me like I might fall and break a hip. She had been looking at me that way a lot. Ever since Harris dumped me. Things had finally been starting to get back to normal, with less pitying looks, and now this. She’d probably be watching me warily from the corner of her eye for another five months. Awesome.

“See you next weekend, right? At Emerson’s gallery showing?”

“Oh, yeah.” I’d almost forgotten Emerson had been offered an opportunity to show some of her pieces at a gallery in Boston.

“We can ride together if you want. Suzanne is coming, too. She actually got off work.”

I nodded. “Great. I’ll text you.”

Once inside my loft, I stood alone and stared blindly into space. I quickly thought about my last glimpse of Logan’s face before he walked away. So hard and impassive. As though he felt nothing when I rejected him in front of his brother and Pepper. I’d handled that badly, although I’m not sure, if it happened all over again, it could go down any differently. Some things just weren’t meant to be.

THE WEEK PASSED IN
numbing monotony. I walked around in a daze, functioning, but not really caring about my day-to-day tasks. It was reminiscent of when Harris dumped me. That same vague state of bewilderment. As though I’d just been punched in the gut and didn’t quite know how or why that happened, only that it hurt like hell.

Where it differed was that this was worse than my breakup with Harris. I’d spent four years with Harris and just a few weeks fooling around with Logan, but this felt worse. My stomach was off like I’d eaten something bad.

I had successfully killed any chance of being with Logan again—even in a physical no-strings-attached kind of way. He had too much pride to come around me again. Not after I shut him down in front of Reece and Pepper. Which was what I had wanted. What I had set out to do. End it once and for all.

So why did my heart ache so damn much?

Saturday afternoon I was bingeing on popcorn and M&M’s, zoning out as I watched a
Walking Dead
marathon. I’d deliberately avoided anything remotely romantic, flipping past
Bridget Jones’s Diary
so fast I might have sprained my thumb. People running for their lives from flesh-hungry zombies fit the bill nicely.

I was in the same clothes I had worn to bed the night before, greasy ponytail and all. I may or may not have brushed my teeth yet.

When my phone buzzed beside me on the futon and I saw it was Mom, I suppressed a sigh and answered it. I’d dodged her call earlier this week and knew I couldn’t do it again. Not without her sending out the National Guard.

“Hey, Mom. How are you?”

She dove straight from guilting me over not calling her back to pressuring me into coming home for a visit before fall semester began. She insisted there had to be time in my schedule for family. Even if just for a long weekend. And there was. I could leave on a Thursday and come home on Sunday. Except I didn’t want to. Despite my current misery, I liked it here. I liked the cooler northeastern summers. I liked working for Dr. Chase. I liked my apartment above Mulvaney’s with Cook slipping me fried pickles every time I passed.

But how could I explain that to Mom? I loved my family. Everything I did was to make Mom proud. To prove that my birth had not been a mistake.

I knew that was messed up. I should be confident enough in myself, but it was still an internal struggle, needing my mother to simply say she was glad I was born, that I was not a constant reminder of her lapse in judgment.

“Mom,” I interrupted the latest news of my cousin Marianne’s engagement to a plastic surgeon in Auburn. “Do you remember the little pool house we rented behind Mrs. Flanagan’s house?”

“Why are you bringing that up?”

“I don’t know. Because it’s my earliest memory, I guess. I remember eating Popsicles on the edge of that pool with you.”
You had seemed happy with me then. When it was just the two of us. I had seemed like enough for you.
These thoughts scudded across my mind, but I didn’t dare say them. If I did, it would sound like I regretted what came after. My stepdad. Amber. Our very serious and respectable suburban existence.

“I try not to think of those days. Life was hard then. Being a single mom, trying to finish school and work. I don’t think my life really began until I met your father.” And by
father
, she meant my
stepfather
. Not my real dad who knocked her up and bailed on us.

It shouldn’t have hurt to hear her say this, but it did. I was tempted to say:
but you had me
. Didn’t that make it all worth it? Wasn’t I enough, even then, to make you feel complete?

Except it would sound like I was bitter and resentful that she had married my stepfather. That she had Amber. And it wasn’t that at all. I loved my stepfather and sister. My struggle was with Mom and this overwhelming compulsion I felt to be everything for her. To be the best so I could justify the mistake of my existence.

Mom dove back into the subject of Marianne’s wedding and how I needed to be sure to reserve that entire week the following March because I, of course, would be one of the bridesmaids.

Mom circled back around to when I was coming home. She pressed me for a precise date. “I’d like you here before August third. That’s when Harris is leaving. He and his family are going on a cruise.”

A sour taste tickled the back of my throat. “Mom, what does Harris have to do with when I come home?”

“Georgia, I hear things are rocky between him and the other girl . . .”

“You mean the one he left me for? The one he cheated on me with?”

Mom ignored that and continued, “It’s just like I told you. It would never last.”

I sighed, rubbing the bridge of my nose. “Mom, I’m not getting back together with Harris. He left me for someone else, remember? I don’t want to be with him anymore.”

“We learn from our mistakes, Georgia, and we’re stronger for it in the end. Better.”

“Yes. I couldn’t agree with you more. I’ve learned from mine.”

“Oh, Harris was a mistake then? Four years of your life?”

“Yes . . . maybe. Look. He’s part of my past, Mom. That’s where I want to keep him.”

“I don’t know what’s gotten into you, Georgie. First you wanted to stay up there for the summer, rejecting Mr. Berenger’s kind offer to intern at the bank. Embarrassing me, I might add. Now you’re not even interested in patching things up with Harris. I don’t know who you are anymore.”

The disappointment was there, ripe in her voice, and I felt suddenly suffocated. Like I couldn’t breathe under the pressure of it. That I could break apart from it at any moment.