Ash to Steele (25 page)

   The opening didn’t mean much without having Emma there.  “I hire the best, so let them earn their pay,” I tease, falling onto the bed next to her. 

   “What is that I smell?” Emma asks, snatching the carry out box from my hands.

   “Filet Mignon, roasted potatoes, and a piece of triple chocolate layer cake,” I reply, snatching the box back, laughing, “and why do you think this is for you?”

   “Because if you come near a girl with chocolate and it’s not meant for her, then you are either going to die that night or seriously wish you had.”

   “Fair enough,” I grin, holding my hands up.  “All yours,” I tell her, knowing she knows it was to begin with. 

  The remainder of the night is spent eating, laughing, and talking before we lightheartedly argue about what movie to watch.  I’m flipping through the channels, suppressing a chuckle at the frustrated expression on Emma’s face as I go through the same channels for about the third time. 

   “Give me that!” she demands, snatching the remote from my hands.

   Grabbing her waist, I slide her down the bed, mocking her, “I don’t touch your chocolate, you don’t touch my remote.”

   She puts her hand behind her back, the remote held tightly in her grip, as she tries to push me away when I go after it.  Her free hand presses against my chest, and I pin it against the bed as I flip her over.  She’s quick and has the remote underneath her stomach before I have the chance to grab it.  Switching tactics, I run my fingers down her ribs as her beautiful laughter fills the room.

   “So, you’re ticklish.  Good to know,” I taunt, flipping her over on her back again as I torture her until she’s holding her stomach, losing her breath from how hard she is laughing as she begs me to stop. 

   Straddling her, I slip her long, slender fingers through mine as I pin her hands against the bed, watching her carefully, making sure she’s not afraid.  It’s not her I should’ve worried about.  What I see in her eyes terrifies the hell out of me and I freeze.  Letting her hands go, I slide off of her and my chest pounds punishingly against my chest until I can feel the beat pulsating in my head. 

   “What’s wrong, Breck?” Emma asks, sitting up, sliding next to me, those damn piercing eyes wrecking me. 

   “This was a mistake,” I say, my words barely audible as my head pounds and my heart aches.  I thought seeing what I feel for her staring back at me would finally give me some peace, but, instead, it just gives me the damning reassurance that I will leave her more emotionally scarred than Edwin.  Gavin’s words, telling me that she wouldn’t let anyone touch her but me, sears my veins.  She trusts me when God knows she shouldn’t.  Edwin hurt her, but there’s a pain that tears into your soul, bleeding the life and sanity out of you until you wish you were dead so the torment will finally stop that far surpasses any physical suffering.  I would never hurt Emma physically; no, how I will hurt her is much crueler. 

   “What was a mistake, Breck?” Emma’s hand touches my wrist, her soft fingers sending a jolt to my darkened soul. 

   Recoiling from her touch, I stand, stumbling backwards, “I shouldn’t have brought you with me.”

   Slipping off the bed, she follows me, the hurt in her pleading eyes draining my soul,  “Tell me why.”

   “Because you don’t know who I am.”

   “Yes, I do,” she insists.  “Maybe not everything about you,” her hand finds mine again, “but I know enough.”

   Jerking away from her, I let out a bitter laugh, “You have no idea what I’m capable of, Emma.” 

   “Then tell me, Breck, please.”

   “Stop!” I demand.

   Emma disobeys, moving closer. “Stop what? Tell me what I’m doing that is making you like this,” she asks, her tone in between a command and plea. 

   “Everything you do is making me like this,” I shout, needing to end this, make a clean break and give Emma what she needs, someone,
anyone
, other than me. 

   “You’re not making sense.”

   “I’m making perfect sense, Emma.  You need to walk away.”

   “I can’t,” she replies, unadulterated agony lacing her voice.

   “Dammit, Emma.  You deserve better than me,” I yell.

   “Why?  What gives you the right to tell me who I deserve?” she yells back, a flicker of anger igniting in her eyes. 

“Because I know what I am!  The more you are around me, the weaker I get, soon I won’t have the self-control to make you leave.  You’ve done something to me!  The day I met you, you got under my skin.  I couldn’t get you out of my head, and I hated you for that.”  I step closer, inhaling the sweetness of her skin, “I still can’t get you out of my head.”

   The innocence behind those infinite blue eyes weakens me further, pulling at my heart like I’ve never felt before.  Hating her was so much easier than the hell ripping through me now.  My hand moves on its own, hexed by Emma’s presence.  I trace my fingers down the soft skin of her cheek, drowning in the rapture and cursing this spell she has on me.  I want her.  More than I’ve wanted anyone, I want her!  The internal war rages, spiraling out of control.  The darkness inside wants to strip her of her clothing and taint every inch of her pureness.  I want to dominate her.  I want to punish her for making me feel the way I do.  I want to drive her mad, making her writhe in agonizing desire, destroy her to the point where she bursts from raw need and cries out for me to take her every way that I want her.

   The slightest sigh escapes her lips as she presses her cheek against my finger tips, her eyes slowly closing, and all darkness flees, scurrying back to the empty abyss buried deep inside.  Reverence radiates from every part of her.  Brushing my lips against the corner of her eye, the taste of divinity pervades my every pore, torturing me with something I can’t have.

   “Do you still hate me?” Emma whispers.

   “I stopped hating you the second I started,” I admit, that truth cursing me.

   The way her breath releases in a rush from my words nearly sends me to my knees.  I can’t hurt her.  If she stays, if this goes further, I will.  “I’m begging you, Emma, stay away from me.  You don’t know what you want or what you need.  Especially right now.”

   “If you will just shut the hell up and stop telling me what I don’t know, I’ll tell you exactly what I
do
know, what I knew before what happened to me!” Emma explodes, shocking me with the forcefulness behind her words. 

   I stand motionless, sensing the power of her raw need dripping from her like a sweet, forbidden nectar that I need to taste, to possess.  My mouth is suddenly dry and my voice is husky, rough, as I demand, “Tell.Me!”

Chapter Thirteen

 
Poison

Emma

   The need to tell him, to confess, is burning through me like a raging fire.  Taking a step towards him, my head is spinning at a devastating momentum.  My heart beats so wildly, I feel as if I might actually faint.  My conscious is blasting reasons that I don’t want to think about right now.  Shaking my head, I grab each side and squeeze, willing the condemning thoughts to just leave me alone. 

   Pulled magnetically to Breck, I beg my mind to let me be as I take another step towards him.  Before I can change my mind, I grab the hem of his sweater, pulling it over his head and allowing my fingers to skim slowly down his neck, across the hard muscles of his chest with the barest whisper of a touch down his toned torso, stopping at the edge of his jeans.  Breck’s eyes devour me and, absently, I lick my lips, my teeth grazing against my bottom lip as my finger traces his belt buckle.  The cool metal does nothing to tame the fiery itch in my fingertip as it slides the length of the smooth metal. 

   Slowly, I raise my gaze to his and the flames burn higher at the molten steel staring back at me. My lips tremble when I open them again, my eyes blazing the truth I can no longer hide, “I know that I should leave right now, that I should follow your advice and run like hell, but I can’t.  I know that you are everything that I shouldn’t want, shouldn’t
need
, but I do!  I want and need you so badly that I ache just wanting to touch you.”

   Biting my lip harder, I plead against the war raging inside of me, “I know that, since you first spoke to me, not an hour goes by that isn’t dominated by thoughts of you.  When you’re near me, you are my own personal heaven and hell.  Your presence consumes me, completely haunts me, and I know that I can barely breathe when you are gone.  And, I know that I have tried to do what is right my entire life…until you.”  My whole body trembles and my voice quakes, “Until I fell in love with you.”

   “No! I’m begging you, Emma, please don’t feel that way for me, I don’t want to hurt you.” The sheer agony in Breck’s eyes causes me physical pain, and I reach to touch him, but he pushes me away, placing his hands on either side of my head as he pins me against the wall.  His breathing is shallow while mine is barely audible.  Leaning close to me, his nose is almost touching mine.  His eyes pierce me, burn me.  Leaning further into me, his lips are so close, I can feel the warmth of his breath caressing mine. 

   “I don’t like feeling fear,” Breck growls.

   The depth of emotions in his eyes strips the wisp of breath I had left straight from my lungs.  Pain, longing, anger, and feral need combust into steel blue flames; then I see it…a shadow of his fear.

   “Tell me what you’re afraid of,” I whisper, my eyes locking on his tormented gaze, my lips pulled closer to his by some force stronger than I’ve ever felt; a force that renders me powerless to the raw need spewing through my veins.  The need is more than just psychical, it’s a need to be part of Breck, to know who he is and what’s really inside of him behind the secrets and pain.  I need for him to always be a part of my life because he’s already become a part of who I am.

   Silence screams throughout the room as Breck’s despondency tortures me.

   His eyes close as his head drops. His voice is gruff when he finally responds, “Nothing.”

   “You’re lying,” I call him out.

   Angrily smacking the wall with his palms, his jaw tightens as his glare enslaves me.  “You’re the one who should be afraid, the one who should be running as far away from me as possible.”

   “That’s not going to happen,” I declare adamantly, my words coated with a strong dose of my own anger. 

   “Stubborn ass woman!  I will hurt you, don’t you get that?  You’re not safe with me!”

   “I don’t believe you!” I shout.

   “It doesn’t matter what you think, just because you believe something doesn’t make it truth!” he shouts back, his face in mine.  His jaw is tight and his anger rages as he stares at me, silently warning me against something I know isn’t in him.

   “You would never hurt me,” I whisper.

   “I already have.”  The darkness in his eyes fills me with despair when his jaw twitches and he pushes away from the wall, turning to go, “The pilot will take you back to Boston tomorrow.”

   My stomach knots into a million tight balls and my heart pounds in my chest as the beat of my pulse becomes more deafening with each step that takes him further away from me.  Trying to keep the desperation out of my voice, I call out to him, “Whatever happened, whatever it is that made you feel like this, it wasn’t me.  I won’t hurt you.  I’m not one of the demons you’re fighting.”

   Spinning around, his anger explodes vehemently as fire blazes in his eyes, “No, no you’re not; that’s the whole damn problem!  I never knew that being this close to an angel can feel every bit as much like being in hell.”

   I watch as he rakes his hands through his hair, taking a step towards me even though it’s painfully clear that he wants to do just the opposite. 

   “I’m no angel,” I whisper, both hurt and elated by his comparison.

   “You’re as close to one as I’ll ever get,” he breathes raggedly, taking one more agonizing step closer. 

   “It doesn’t have to be that way, you know,” I tell him.

   “I’m starting to believe you,” he states, his voice full of pain.

   “But you don’t want to?”

   “There are so many things that I want and don’t want right now, it’s so fucking hard to keep them straight.”

   “You want me,” I tell him, knowing he does.