Broken (13 page)

Quickly flipping Berg over, he covered her with his body, enjoying the feeling of having her quivering beneath him, waiting.

She spread her legs and wrapped them around his hips. “Fuck me. Hard,” she whispered.

He spread her legs even wider with his knees roughly and penetrated her in one solid thrust, before pulling out and thrusting in again, harder.

Moaning, she dug her nails into his ass cruelly, rearing up to meet him, matching him as they blindly thrashed at each other.

It was frenzied.

“Look at me,” Jay uttered with a growl. Berg, losing herself, had closed her eyes in pleasure.

She opened them and Jay caught and held her fraught gaze.

The skin on Jay’s forearms was being rubbed away by the coarse carpet, but he didn’t even feel it. Each plunge made up for all the starts and stops in their relationship to date; every kiss was made more passionate and astonishing by the wait that had preceded it.

They grabbed at each other wildly, as if trying to climb inside one another. Skin on skin wasn’t close enough. Jay crushed his mouth on Berg’s again, his tongue match the rhythm of his thrusts, his hips tilting at just the right angle. He felt her climax build before it burst out of her body. She dragged her mouth away from his as she cried out and arched her back, but Jay gave her no quarter as she came, instead forcing himself into her harder, faster, pulling her legs over his shoulders and driving her deeper into the floor.

Berg tossed her head back and forth, crying out as he battered into her again and again.

Jay felt her orgasm rebuild as his peak approached and they exploded together, Jay letting out a primal groan as they connected in a way that was new and unfamiliar to both of them.

“I love you!” Berg cried out as she came again, shudders ripping throughout her body. “I love you,” she mumbled again softly, over and over.

Jay’s joy at her words was absolute.

Their bodies still connected, he rolled them over onto their sides and held her close as their tremors slowed and their breathing returned to normal. They rested together in the gentle embrace for a few minutes, Berg’s leg still wrapped around Jay’s waist, neither willing to let the other go.

Eventually, Jay rolled Berg back onto the carpet, but gently this time, and set about kissing and caressing every part of her beautiful body. He didn’t know or care what had brought her to his apartment that night, or what had changed so drastically between them, but every inch of her was his for the night and he planned to take full advantage.

Chapter Eleven

I kept everything inside and even though I tried, it all fell apart.

What it meant to me will eventually be a memory

of a time when I tried so hard and got so far.

But in the end it doesn’t even matter.

–Linkin Park, “In the End”

S
he was trapped. That she knew it was a dream, and knew what was coming next, made no difference. She was doomed to relive the memory as if it was that same night all over again. It was like living it again and watching it replay on a movie screen all at once. She knew what was happening, what would happen next, but she couldn’t stop the physical or emotional panic. Each and every time it was like being that helpless twelve-year-old again. No matter what horrors or the deranged criminals she unflinchingly confronted daily, she returned to bed every night to become a powerless, scared little girl.

Berg hated that—herself and the dream—in equal measure.

She pulled the pink, ruffled covers up over her mouth and nose. Her eyes were glued to the door she knew would open at any moment.

Her senses immediately heightened with the rush of adrenaline and her breathing was fast and shallow. She smelled her own dread mingled with the apple scent of the fabric softener that the housekeeper always used on the linen.

She strained her ears for the muffled sounds of the soft footfalls that signaled his inevitable approach.

The door opened a crack at first, just as she had known it would. He slunk into her room silently, just as she had known he would. He climbed into her bed, just as she had known he would.

But knowing wasn’t accepting or desensitizing, and she started crying.

“I love you,” he whispered. “I love you so much, Alicia . . .”

As he bent to kiss her, his rank beer breath washed across her face and made her want to vomit. In between foul, wet kisses his face was illuminated by a shaft of light from the streetlights that pierced through the crack in the curtains.

Berg sat bolt upright in bed. It was the same dream she always had, yet . . . not. This one was slightly—horrifically—altered.

She looked around, squinting to make out the bedroom in the predawn light, and recognized nothing. As the frantic part of her brain heard the logic coming through, she realized the unfamiliar bed was actually Jay’s and warmth flooded down her body along with the barrage of memories.

At some stage during the evening’s activities, they made it to the bed. She didn’t remember when. The entire night was melded into a single stream of intense sensation and emotion that neither one had wanted to end.

It had felt so good to open up to him, to exchange small murmurs of love, to make plans in between the passion. For a few hours, she had felt real . . . normal.

Loved.

It had been unbelievable, bizarre even, but so, so good.

She waited as her eyes adjusted to the dim light coming through Jay’s ancient venetian blinds. It still looked very early. If she had to guess, it had only been a couple of hours of sleep before . . .

Her heart pounded so hard she realized her body was rocking from the force of it.

Never before had the dream strayed from its set formula. Over twenty years, nearly every single night, the dream had always been the same. The same bedroom, the same events, the same sounds and smells, the same reactions. Except this time, as her father’s face had caught the light, it hadn’t been his face anymore.

This time, the face had been Jay’s.

“I love you so much, Alicia.”

Berg felt ill.

She looked down at him, sleeping peacefully, his arms thrown wide across the firm bed, a cotton sheet draped across his hips and one leg. She studied his smooth, sleeping face and watched it morph into the leer of the dream. She turned away and dry retched quietly before bringing her stomach back under control.

The face that had prompted her to declare feelings she didn’t want to admit to last night now filled her with revulsion and disgust.

The dream words melded with the murmurings of love Jay had whispered throughout the night and echoed in her addled head as she hurriedly slipped out of bed and searched for her clothes on the floor near the front door.

She flung on what she could, noticing that the suit and shirt were torn beyond repair, and she tried not to sob out loud with the terrible realization.

I can’t do this.

She had wanted to, and she had had high hopes after she and Jay connected last night on a level far superior to good sex, but she couldn’t do it. She was incapable of sustaining that kind of emotion. It scared the fuck out of her, and not just because love felt could also be love lost. It was because one flicker of normal and her past intruded, reminding her of her deep, profound defects.

Last night had been a test, and she failed.

Despite Vi’s assurances, she couldn’t drag Jay into her shit. She had done more evil in her life than he knew about, things that would change his opinion of her forever. For one brief, beautiful moment she had believed Vi; she had believed she could cast it all aside and be happy, but she wasn’t ready for it. She wasn’t even made for it. It would end badly. There was no other possible outcome.

Berg cast one last look at Jay. He looked flawless, lying there in the dim light. For a crazy moment, she wanted nothing more than to get undressed and slip back into bed with him. They could both call in sick and pick up where they had left off. She fought the urge to run back to him, to beg him to love her. And he would love her, too, until her evil became too palpable for even him to ignore.

She knew, as she shut his front door softly behind her, that she simply couldn’t do it to herself.

Or to him.

Jay trudged unhappily up the stairs from the first to the third floor of the 12th. He had awoken unexpectedly alone earlier that morning, his dreams of sharing a long, romantic breakfast with Berg dashed as soon as he had peeled open his eyes.

She didn’t even say goodbye.

The irony that he had done the same to countless women over the years hadn’t been lost on him. But for one bright, shiny moment, it had seemed like all his dreams for the future would be realized—the career, the woman, the family, the sex . . .

He had plummeted to Earth with an audible thud this morning.

He walked through the stairwell doors on his level, his eyes immediately seeking out Berg’s desk. She had her head down, intent on her work. She was wearing different clothes to the ones he had ripped off her last night, so she must have woken early, gone home and changed, and still beaten him in.

Not that she could have worn the same thing she’d had on last night. It had looked like an escaped zoo animal had mauled the T-shirt he’d been wearing, and it had gone straight from the floor to the trash.

He paused before he went into his office, willing Berg to look up and meet his eyes, but she was obviously having none of it. Of course, the pause meant he was fair game for everyone who needed him for something.

“Captain! I—”

“Can you—”

“Just fuck off, all of you,” he muttered as he headed to his office, leaving his gob- smacked subordinates where they stood.

“Hey,” Arena said before Jay had a chance to walk through his door.

“Arena.” Jay nodded. “Tell your partner I need to speak to her when she has a moment.”

“Am I your errand boy now? You’ve got legs and lips, tell her yourself,” Arena retorted, pointing with a flip of his head.

“After the insubordination you’ve been throwing my way lately, you’d be lucky to be a fucking errand boy. Just tell her!” Jay yelled. He went into his office.

Jesus. Not even eight in the morning and my head’s already pounding.

Arena sauntered in a few minutes later. “Berg says she’s busy with a lead, plus we’re about to interview Feeny. So if it’s anything about our cases, you can discuss it with me.”

Okay, she’s dodging me.

“This is bullshit,” Jay muttered, standing up and striding out to Berg’s desk. “Can we have a moment please? In private,” he asked the woman who had opened up to him so completely not even twelve hours ago and now stared stonily at her computer as if he meant less to her than a flasher on the El.

“I’m busy right now,” Berg replied. “We’re really lucky Feeny finally granted us a voluntary interview, so I need to concentrate.”

“I’m asking you nicely,” Jay said through gritted teeth, fully aware that the entire level was straining to hear every word of their conversation.

“And I’m saying
not now
, also nicely.”

“When, then?”

“Another time.”

Jay almost walked away, but stopped, shook his head in disbelief, and turned back to Berg. “So that’s it, then? No conversation, no explanation? After
everything . . .
that’s all I get?” Jay was losing it and he knew it.

“Keep your voice down!” Berg snapped.

Arena hovered near Berg protectively.

“Unless you have a professional question, I think it’s best if we keep our distance. This is better for you, trust me.” Berg never even looked up before turning back to her work.

“How the hell is this—”

Arena stepped in front of Jay. “The lady said to keep your distance. Try to have enough respect for her to listen.”

Jay stared around Arena at Berg, trying to catch her eye. He tried to shove Arena out of the way, but Arena quickly recovered and stepped in front of him, cutting him off once again.