Emotionally Compromised (Emotionally Compromised Series) (33 page)

"I'm serious. I think you could easily do it. End him. Isn't he the epitome of everything you despise? He took that girl away from you, didn't he?"

Her words scratch at the surface of my anger
, and I find myself shaking my shoulders out this time. "Adessa, I told you: do not act like you know anything about me." I grind my teeth.

She is quick to capitalize on my edging temper. "
How about we just consider this a test run? I don't need to know the details to know he deserves what is coming to him. He has ruined you. Taken everything you wanted or considered wanting."

Listening to the clever words tumbling out of her mouth, my skin crawls with seething hatred. All I can do is sit up and square my shoulders, trying not to let my high and my anger crash together like an atom bomb. I know enough about myself. I know I can get out of hand.

"Jeremy has done nothing but tear you down, and keep you as a pet. He practically dangles that woman in front of you. How much more are you willing to take, Marcus? You know he is better out of the picture than in it. It would give you the life you deserve. The life you've earned. The attention you've been seeking." She places her hand on my knee, giving it a squeeze.

Clenching my jaw, I feel every pulsating vein in my neck. I try to keep my cool, but her words describe the things that I've been thinking
for years, but never had the balls to say. Now, to hear them from someone who can see my life for what it is without even knowing much about me, it kills me. If this bitch can tell, it means everyone else can as well. I must be the laughing stock of boardroom meetings.

Trying not to erupt like a volcano, I clench my fist and swing my eyes up to hers. They've softened, but look driven by something I cannot figure out. Words
leave my tongue without my permission. "Tell me how."

My free hand reaches out to find the half-empty baggy on the coffee table, while giving Adessa my undivided attention.

Give Me a Reason to Stay

JEREMY HUNT

I peek at the clock, noticing it's nearly
8 a.m. I stretch in bed, feeling wonderfully achy, and I am happy to consider it—
hopefully
—a feeling I will get used to. My goal is to bring Alex as close as a security blanket.
When did I turn into such a baby?

I sit up, feeling the cold, blank space next to me
, and wonder where she could have run off to.

I am beyond smitten this morning. I was worried this feeling would wear off, but after last night, it only seems to have grown. I am a man who knows the value of something, and who doesn't need time to determine what is right or wrong. I know I've hit a gold mine. I grin and rub my jaw, surprised I can manage a smile so wide this early in the morning.

Despite of the God-awful Marcus kiss, last night was superb.

She was a perfect date: mystifying the crowd with her enigmatic smile, and capturing
attention. No person, man or woman, could look away from her. Sometimes it felt like they would rather talk to her than me. In a way, she balances the equation. Sometimes I don't want the attention.

Not to mention her pace. She is quick to keep up, and sometimes leaves me catching up with her. Hell, the woman captured the heart of the emotionless Richard
Dyvornychenko. I sign that contract Monday.

However,
my favorite part, after dragging her around for hours to different people, was leaving with her. Alongside her exhaustion was that playful girl with the reserved smile and the bubbly laughter. The side she seems to let only me see, and I revel in it. That is the version of her I hold precious. I can't imagine she lets anyone else see her soft side.

It's when she's so tired that she can no longer keep that wall up that I see her true colors. She is in love with me, and I her
.

W
ait, what?

Am I? I don't think I have ever considered the idea for its more literal meaning, but I can't figure out what else this illness might be. She mentioned a plague last night. Well, she most definitely plagues me
—body and soul—and funnily enough, it is a
good
plague, like she described.

My lips twitch with a wondrous smile, and I decide it's time to find her. It's Sunday, and I only have the rest of today before the
workweek. It's moments like this that I forget about the chaos. I forget about Marcus and his deranged problems, I forget about biological diseases and terrorist groups, and I forget that my life is insane.

Bounding off the bed and slipping on a pair of boxer briefs, I
strut down the hall, finding that I am following the wafting smell of coffee. It's like following a caffeinated trail.

I pad my way to the open living room space to see Alex leaning against the floor-to-ceiling window with a cup of coffee snuggled close to her chest. She is showered and dressed. Her cascading curly hair looks
slightly damp. I take in the sight of her in her low, hip-hugging jeans and white tank top, revealing enough skin at its hemline to keep me wanting. Her feet are bare, and she's tapping one of them furiously. Her mind seems occupied. Her frame, although nothing but mean muscle, looks daintily formed and wonderfully mine. How long has she been awake? I wouldn't have minded showering with her this morning.

She
turns her head away from the glass, and the early morning light makes her eyes glitter gold. Her smile is slow to appear, but her attentive eyes seem to devour me whole.
Now, that is how a woman should look at a man.
I find myself drawn to her, quickening my steps.

Stepping behind her, I wrap my arms around her waist and
kiss below her ear. She leans into my grasp, and I hope that I still have docile Alex right now.

"Good morning," I whisper.

"Morning," she hums. The sound, this morning, this feeling, it's perfect.

Smelling her coffee
, I quip, "Do make yourself at home." Without giving her time to respond, I pull the mug out of her grasp and bring it to my lips.

She scoffs like a child, and I stifle a laugh. "Jeremy!"

I finish off the cup. "Mmm, delicious."

She rolls her eyes. "Good morning, indeed! I do hope you are planning on getting me another." She's testy this morning. Docile Alex is officially on her way out.

I turn around to place the empty mug on the kitchen table a few feet behind me, so I can turn to her and do what I've been wanting since I awoke. Her heated state makes me laugh, and I can't remember feeling this carefree, considering the underlining circumstances. She looks as if she is ready to throw a tantrum, so I reach for her face, crushing her lips to mine, stopping an onslaught of reprimands.

She is always quick to resist me, but within
seconds, she collapses into my lips. Allowing my feelings for her free reign, I press her body against the glass. Her once-resistant hands wrap in my hair, and I let out an appreciative groan as I feel her hips arch toward mine while our tongues tangle around each other. I can't get enough.

I pull away to give us a moment to breathe. Her previous scowl is long gone, and there is a light blush on her cheeks.
Did I mention how smitten I am?

"What are you doing up so early?” I ask
. “I wasn't plaguing your mind again, was I?"

She leans her forehead against
mine. "I wish it were you plaguing me." She brushes her lips lightly against mine as if begging for another kiss. Her breath is warm and smells like coffee.

I resist for
a moment. "What's wrong?"

"I'm waiting for Derek to call me. I want to get the evidence we need to take Marcus into custody, and the rest should be a cake walk."

"Hmm. Well, it all happened last night. Maybe you should try to be a bit patient?"

Her head snaps up
, and she wrinkles her nose. "You sound like Derek."

I chuckle and feel her trying to slip out of my grasp. I tighten my grip and pepper her lips with kisses. "Maybe the bastard's right for once.
Take it easy. Don't let your mind go somewhere it doesn't need to be. Especially since I am right here in front of you."

She grins. "Now that was kind of romantic, Mr. Hunt."

"The fact that I want you to focus on me? I kind of thought it was selfish, but we are selfish people."

She slides her nose along the bridge of mine. "That we are."

Her tone is lukewarm and inviting. Her game of seduction is subtle, which makes it all the more impressive.

Then something happens. My body throws caution to the wind
, and I choose to speak before thinking. With surprising conviction, I whisper, "That's why I love you."

Even though nothing
else is said, it feels like time freezes. She holds her breath. I no longer feel her rising chest with every inhale, nor can I feel her humid breath on my skin. I think about what I have done, and lock eyes with her.

She looks lost.
Petrified to the spot. She had the same look when someone tried to kill me. Surely, this isn't the same.

After this morning's revelations about how I feel
, I quickly think it over, and decide I am not ashamed of my words. I am a man of truth, and mean it. I have to handle this appropriately. But what is considered appropriate?

The sound of silence is deafening, and I know something isn't right. The moment hangs in the balance, and a thick fog rolls over our delightful morning. I become concerned.

Her eyes widen, and she pushes out of my grasp with surprising force, taking deliberate steps away from me.

Oh
shit.

ALEX TURNER

I find that my words are coming out in a gasp. "What did you say?"

"I said, that's why I love you." As he says it for a second time, I see the doubt etching over his face, and his eyes widen infinitesimally. It's slight, but it's there.
He senses what is coming.

A
wave of panic washes over me like a thick layer of molasses, engulfing me, suffocating me. His words feel like a sucker punch, and I take a step back from the proverbial blow.
Love? He can't ...

"Jeremy, you don't love me." I shake my head as my mouth goes dry and
thick. No one has ever loved me. It is a word I reserve for my favorite beverage, or the way my gun makes me feel. Love? It's an intangible thing that I can't seem to grasp, but I know it doesn't sit well with me. This morning was starting out wonderfully. Why did it have to take such a heavy turn? And why can't I stop these flooding emotions? This is bad. How can he say such a thing?

Jeremy stretches out his arm, offering me his hand, as if to guide me back to the light as I slip into the dark. I shake my head, cowering like a cornered animal. I'm gasping for air here.

Jeremy's towering stance intimidates me. This is not my element. I try my best to keep eye contact, as if to challenge the predator cornering the timid mouse. He is beyond confident, as usual, but he doesn't know what he's done.

He has every right to his reaction, but aren't I allowed to have my own too? I'm not ready.

I see a wave of anger flash over his face as he watches me, though his eyes twitch with concern and mirrored panic.
I am so sorry, Jeremy.
Here comes the inevitable storm.

His tone is harsher than I think he intends. "Don't tell me how to feel. I've never said it to anyone, and this is how you're treating it? Like I don't know what it
means. I only say what I mean; you should know that by now. You're easy to love, don't you see that?"

"No, I am not, Jeremy. Far from it. I thought we were fine as we were. It was reassuring to think that."

"Reassuring? Do you hear yourself right now? You are being crazy."

The word crazy doesn't sit well with me. The combination of this argument, my relationship, and my assignment at hand has me grasping at straws. I need to choose one to focus on right now.

I heave in a deep breath, and feel my veins flame with frustration and anger. "I am not crazy. I just think you are jumping into this too quickly."

"About how I feel about you? I would normally agree and say sorry, but seeing all your fear, I don't want to. I want to confront this head on, and so should you. I love you, and I mean it. You don't know what it means, so you're scared, and that's
all right." He tries softening his tone at the end as a peace offering, but I don't budge.

I fiddle with my hands and tear my stare away from his storming eyes. Is he right? Do I always fear the unknown? But this is different.

"No, Jeremy," I blurt out, trying to stand up for myself. I'm letting him walk all over me, letting his words swallow me whole. I don't have a defense for this. I can't seem to find the words. I'm scared to speak.

"No? You keep saying that! You've been saying that to me since I met you. Always telling me to stop, always telling me no.
It hasn't worked all this time being together, and it sure as hell is not going to work now. I am willing to take the leap, why aren't you? It's fine if you aren't ready, but I didn't expect this reaction." He curls his once-warm, outstretched hand into fist as he points a finger at me. He is fuming with anger.

"Leap? I didn't think
..." I stutter.

"Didn't think what?
" His tone becomes patronizing. "That this is where we were headed? I know we've been moving fast, and I am pushing you too hard, but I can't hide how I feel about you. What if something happened to you, and I never took the time to overcome my fears and tell you how I feel about you? I won't live with regret. I want to live in the now. I love you, and don't tell me you can't be loved because of some dumb cracked photo on your nightstand. You deserve to let yourself have this. Let me love you." His words sound pleading, and mildly desperate.

I close my eyes, trying to absorb what he's said, and my stomach
knots.

Frantic
ly, he blurts out, "You love me too; you just won't let yourself!"

His words cause my eyes to spring open. "Stop it, Jeremy!"

Practically stomping his feet, he retorts, "That's it. You don't know how to define it, and you won't let yourself feel it. You're being a coward. You love me."

I have never been called a coward in my life. "Dammit, Jeremy, stop it! I don't love anyone."

He stumbles backward at my words, knocked off balance as if I'd punched him.

"You love me," he stammers. His words are shak
y, and I can see his confidence crumbling.
No, Jeremy. Please ...

In a desperate attempt to save
myself, I heave in a deep breath to fill the void. "This is too much, too quickly. I don't love you, Jeremy." It's all I can muster, all I can offer.