Afterlife (53 page)

he seized her throat, bringing her to a

ful halt, holding her

stil with his weight and strength. She

shuddered and

quaked against him, her pussy

rippling against his cock.

“I don’t need a col ar to know I’m

your Master, Rachel.

And neither do you. You curse at me

like that again, and I’l

have my cock down your throat for

the entire ride home. I’l

pul your wrists back and tie them to

your ankles so only my

fist in your hair keeps you on your

knees while you’re

sucking me.”

Something broke then, something that

deflated

everything in her…desire, passion,

anger. She went limp

and shuddering beneath him, the

throbbing of her pussy

like a tiny ticking clock in an empty

room, evidence of the

life that was there, but so much

space, a space that echoed

in the pit of the bel y and made the

heart ache.

He could have pushed her on to

climax, but he knew her

body’s arousal had balanced her

emotional pain. He’d

leave the two at odds for now, and

give her what he most

wanted to give her. When he

cautiously eased his hold, she

had her head pressed to the carpet,

sobs now taking her

ful y. He slid out of her, rearranged

his clothes and then

picked her up. Bringing her back up

to one of the seats, he

cradled her close in his arms, holding

her fiercely, her face

tucked into his neck as she cried.

“I’m here,” he muttered. “I’l never

leave you alone. You’l

never be lonely again.”

But as she cried, her knees drew up

against his side, her

arms folding over her chest. Those

sobs seemed to have

the power to break her, no matter

how closely he held her. It

alarmed him, how it suddenly seemed

she was more alone

than she’d ever been, more shut away

from him than he’d

yet experienced.

The Master in him could reach her

body, certain parts of

her soul, but how did he reach her

heart if grief and loss

amputated it? What if it was now out

of anyone’s reach,

even her own?

* * * * *

Once the tears stopped, she didn’t

want him near her.

She didn’t fight him, didn’t draw

away, but he felt it in every

resisting line of her body. She looked

brittle as glass, her

face tired and worn, makeup

smeared. She sat docile,

unresponsive, as he used ice and his

handkerchief to clean

up her face.

After they reached her place, he told

Max they’d get a

few things and then be back down.

He didn’t want her at her

apartment tonight, and maybe not

ever again. She could

bring the things she loved to his

place, and turn her back on

the isolation, loneliness and escape

her home had too

often represented.

When they got to the fourth level, one

of her neighbors, a

sharp-eyed older woman with a smal

load of laundry

topped by a spy novel, was coming

from the elevator. As

they passed her, Jon nodded

courteously, but Rachel

stopped, reached out and touched the

woman’s arm. “Mrs.

Lowery, can you hold on a moment?”

Turning on her heel, she faced Jon,

extricating her elbow

from his grasp. Her hazel gaze was

as flat and empty as a

swimming pool. “Thank you, Jon. I’m

staying here tonight,

and I need you to go home and leave

me alone.”

Mrs. Lowery, in that unfortunate way

that women had,

intuitively picked up on the vibes of a

sister in need of

backup. She put down the basket.

“Rachel, don’t do this.” Jon glanced

between them, trying

to look genial and concerned, rather

than simply hiking her

over her shoulder and taking her the

rest of the way down

the hal , Mrs. Lowery be damned.

Rachel quivered, seeing

it in him, and though Mrs. Lowery

would interpret that quiver

as the wrong kind of fear, Jon knew

differently. Yes, it was

fear, but fear of herself, not of him.

Rachel had far more

experience shutting people out than

letting them in, and she

was using that skil now. Her eyes

were fil ed with dul pain

that he wanted to soothe, even as he

wanted to give her the

spanking of her life.

“I need tonight, Jon.” She cleared her

throat, her fingers

pressing into Mrs. Lowery’s arm.

The woman patted her

soothingly, eyeing Jon. Not an ounce

of fear in her

expression, which clearly said,
I can

start screaming and

bring the entire complex out here on

your ass, bucko.
Any

other time he would have been thril

ed that Rachel had such

a diligent neighbor, but now
nosy
,

busybody
and
pain-in-

the-ass
were a few of the choice

words coming to mind.

“I’m not…you don’t have to worry

about anything, okay? I

need to be alone with this. Please

respect that.”

He wanted to take her hand, make any

kind of contact,

but Rachel stepped back, anticipating

him. She wrapped

her arms against her body, everything

about her locked

down. Mrs. Lowery shifted slightly,

coming in between

them. Given how he was feeling, the

woman had bal s.

He knew when it was necessary to

fal back and take a

different tactic, retreat and regroup,

but damn it, this was

not a fucking business meeting. This

was his heart and

soul, and she needed him. But she

wouldn’t let him help

her. He had no choice but to back off,

for now. He wasn’t

going to leave it like this though.

“I’m walking you to your door,” he

said cool y, and firmly

sidestepped Mrs. Lowery to take

Rachel’s elbow, despite

her flinch. Before either woman

could say anything, he met

the neighbor’s mistrustful gaze. “I wil

not go into the

apartment with her. I know you have

your hand on the

cel phone in your coat pocket. If I

don’t walk right back past

you in five minutes, you can cal the

police.” In the woman’s

brown eyes, he saw the root of what

she needed to know.

He could at least offer her that, with

ful sincerity. “Rachel

wil come to no harm from me. She

knows that. She’s just

upset.”

Mrs. Lowery’s gaze shifted to

Rachel, who turned her

head, stared at the floor, but didn’t

deny what he’d said.

The neighbor studied him again.

“Make it three minutes,

and if I hear so much as a squeak

from her, I’l have my son

out here to toss you over the railing

and you can take the

direct route back to the ground

floor.”

Despite the frustration roiling in his

gut, Jon had to

appreciate her. He wondered if Janet

had an older sister

Matt didn’t know about. He nodded,

put pressure on

Rachel’s arm and directed her tense

body down the hal

until they reached the recessed

archway of her door.

Taking out her key card, he fitted it

into the lock, pushed the

door open a crack, then handed it to

her. He’d had the key

since they’d gone shopping earlier in

the day, and he had

to shove down the feeling of dreaded

finality that came with

putting it back in her hand. When

their fingers brushed,

before she could draw away, he had

his hand closed on

both of hers.

Knowing Mrs. Lowery was stil

listening for the tone of the

conversation, but wasn’t close

enough to detect the content,

he lowered his voice to a murmur.

“What are you doing, Rachel?”

“I know you won’t take no for an

answer, Jon, and I real y,

real y need you to.” She kept her gaze

focused on his chest.

Her fingers were cold and tight

beneath his, her face pale.

His frustration tipped back into fury,

but he reined it back

viciously, knowing that wouldn’t

help. However, as if

sensing it, she quivered again, her

gaze flicking up quickly,

then back down. “At least for tonight.

Please.”

Lifting her chin, he held it in a tight

grip even when she

would have pul ed away. “Do you

stil have the gun?”

The shock that crossed her gaze was

the first emotion

she’d displayed since their volatile

coupling in the car. He

didn’t wait for an answer. Instead, he

pushed her up against

the door, letting her feel every

insistent inch of his rigid

body, head to toe. “I won’t leave you

like this, Rachel. You

can have a dozen Mrs. Lowerys and

her sons in this

hal way, and they won’t budge me an

inch if I don’t think

you’l be safe.”

Her eyes closed, her hands curling

against his jacket,

cold fingers whispering against his

shirtfront. “I didn’t think I

could be more humiliated tonight, but

I guess I was wrong.”

“Rachel, for God’s sake…”

She shook her head. “I’m going in

here, shutting the door,

and for the next little bit, I’m going to

be by myself. I need

that. I truly do. If you have any regard

for me at al , you’l

respect that. Please.” Her lips

trembled, and now those

thick dol ’s lashes lifted, swimming

hazel eyes locking with

his. Her voice was a rasping

whisper. “I promise you, on the

soul of my son, I wil not harm myself.

Al right?”

He cupped her face and wasn’t

surprised that the

rawness of his own voice was a

close match to hers.

“Rachel, don’t shut me out. Don’t

close yourself down like

this again.”

She gave a smal laugh, a half sob.

“Let me go, Jon. I

don’t have the strength for what you

want. Though I real y,

real y appreciate you offering, my

visit to Oz is over. Go find

the woman who has that strength. For

tonight…I’m so tired.

Let me go to sleep. I need that peace.

The peace of

sleeping alone. I need…” Her voice

broke. “I need to be

numb. Please go.”

The sound of her tears, her broken

voice, had footsteps

coming swiftly down the hal . Giving

him a despairing look,

Rachel turned and slid into her

apartment, closing the door

decisively in his face.

* * * * *

The peace of sleeping alone.
He

understood what she

meant. Inside that peaceful place,

there was just enough

room for her to fit, without touching

the jagged edges of

memory that hugged so close to her.

If someone shared

that space, she’d be forced against

those painful and sharp

points.

He would have persisted, except for

a couple things. Mrs.

Lowery had apparently fabricated the

story about her son,

but she appeared at his back armed

with a Pomeranian.

Though the armload of yapping dog

wouldn’t have deterred

him, he knew there was some truth to

what Rachel said,

that she needed time. She’d promised

him she wouldn’t

hurt herself, and though he knew an

unstable person would

say anything to placate their friends

and family, she’d met

his eyes, and for that one moment at

least, he’d seen a

quiet calm. It didn’t completely

resolve his worries on that

score, but he had to live with it,

unless he wanted to break

down the door.

And while she took the time she felt

she needed, damn it

al , he’d use that time to think, plan a

different strategy.

When they were kicked in the bal s in

a negotiation, they

didn’t rush the field driven by pain

and anger. They put

some ice on it, and thought about how

best to win the

overal game.

So he went home. Sent Max back to

the club to pick up

the others, then ran the nature trails

on his property twice,

an eight-mile trek. He’d fol owed it

up with an intense

ninety-minute hot yoga session in his

downstairs workshop.

He’d kept the air off and only now

had opened the windows

that overlooked the screened porch.

Wearing a loose and

faded pair of jeans, he turned in slow

circles on the

revolving stool at his drafting table,

the sweat drying on

muscles stretched to their limit.