Hate to Love You (5 page)

Chapter Three

A Common Glass of Water

I heard Caroline and James leave the house about a half an hour later. With my parents at the Radomskys’ I was free to drink my Absolut without worrying about getting caught. They usually came home in the early hours of the morning. Nevertheless, I waited a good ten minutes before I indulged. No juice and no fizzy stuff to dull the hit, just like Manuel had taught me.

I scrunched my eyes shut and tried to push away the image of my uncle’s dark, handsome face. Remembering everything else he’d taught me would hurtle me over the brink so I drank the vodka thirstily, using it to push down the memories.

But not low enough.

I shuddered and took another swallow. Only a few streets down, flat 27B would have what I really wanted. There was a twenty-pound note in my mother’s drawer and all I had to do was pinch it and head out. I got up, sat back down and forced myself to stay put.

My hand shook as I lifted the Absolut to my lips. Some of it dribbled down my chin and I cursed my clumsiness. I cursed myself for a lot of other things also, including kissing James. His pitying look was imprinted on my memory, as were his words. The bastard was right and I hated him for it. I was more damaged and more twisted than he could ever guess, not to mention all my other faults.

A junkie.

A sponger.

A pregnant virgin who’d kissed her sister’s man in a fit of pique.

My hand flew to my abdomen. Marcia had phoned me after her shift and the first thing she’d done was forbid me to drink. I’d promised not to but I couldn’t help it. She didn’t understand that I needed it to keep me sane. It was either drink the vodka or raid my mother’s drawer and knock on that door. Even now, with plans to fill my veins with so much Absolut my blood became transparent, I craved the hit. Just the once—the last hit—would help ease my transition into a junk-free life, and then I’d stop.

Liar!
My mind threw the word at me so hard I flinched.

What the hell was I going to do? My flippant comments to James weren’t true. I didn’t want to spend my life collecting dole money for cigarettes and booze. Add a brat to the mix and he could write more social commentary on the propagation of the underclass. I could be his case study.

My laugh was bitter. My parents wouldn’t tolerate the shame of single parenthood in their home. If I didn’t marry the man who had “plundered my womanhood” our fragile link would be severed forever. I needed their support, such as it was. My peers were independent decision-making individuals but I was afraid of being on my own again. I was reliant on my parents’ goodwill to live somewhere I had a better chance of staying clean. I looked at the bottle in my hand.

I was pathetic, and James had been right to jeer at me.

There were no mirrors in my bedroom but my reflection in the window was clear. Could I face that girl without the usual blast of debilitating pain? With a deep breath I looked into her eyes, searching deep. I lasted about seven seconds before the explosion hit me, making me clutch my forehead as I absorbed the shock.

Nothing had changed.

I lifted the bottle to my mouth, took another swig and settled back to finish my birthday present.

* * *

“Caroline.”

The voice was husky and male, and it sounded as though it was coming from the end of a long tunnel. I shifted on the bed and my nostrils picked up a whiff of brandy and expensive cologne. It grew stronger, closer to my face, the scent so delicious I took another sniff. The warm pressure on my shoulder increased, shaking me out of sleep. I opened my eyes and blinked a few times into the pitch black. I stared into the dark, reaching out with my hand for the feel of something familiar.

“Darling, it’s James.”

His voice was close to my ear. My hand froze and the cloying aroma of sickly sweet roses wafted up from the sheets. Shit, I was in Caroline’s room. She had black out blinds and a torture rack she called a bed. No wonder my back was aching and my shoulders sore. James mumbled something and the mattress depressed next to me.

His lips grazed my ear. “Let me explain.”

I jerked fully awake and scrambled to sit up. Why was I naked? Oh yeah, I’d got cosy with my Absolut and ended up trying on Caroline’s designer dresses. Things were a bit fuzzy after that but I’d obviously crashed in the buff. I drew my knees into my chest and patted the mattress next to me, coming up with nothing. Darkness be damned, I made a move to scuttle off the bed, but James’s slightly slurred words stopped me.

“I’m glad you decided not to sleep at Veronica’s tonight. Now we can talk. Yes, I kissed Paisley, but I put a stop to it before we went too far.”

Wow. A part of me admired James for telling Caroline about our kiss but most of me wished he weren’t so upstanding. I opened my mouth to tell him who I was and he shifted closer. Underneath the faint waft of brandy and cologne was the potent, male smell of his skin. The combination hit me like the perfume equivalent of the forbidden fruit, tempting me to lean in and inhale him more deeply.

His hand landed on my arm with the heaviness of the alcohol challenged, zapping my skin with a hot, sizzling jolt. He hiccupped and apologised, and I grinned. The haughty lawyer must have indulged in a drink or ten after Caroline ran off to sulk. James didn’t seem ready to pass out but he was beyond tipsy. I thought it was funny, but I was sure Caroline would have been upset so I stifled my laugh.

James’s tone was censorious. “Paisley needs to be put on a lead, flaunting herself like that and trying to turn me on. I would never stoop so low, Caroline, I meant what I said.”

My amusement disappeared as James’s humiliating jeer outside the bathroom came rushing back, wiping away my smile. I wanted payback and I knew exactly how I was going to get it.

Never stoop so low
,
huh?

I’d make him admit he wanted me and then reveal myself and laugh in his face. I didn’t even think about what would happen after that. What can I say? It made Absolut sense at the time. All I had to do was ignore the effect James had on me and I would have my revenge.

No problemo.

I whispered, imitating Caroline’s cultured tone. “Why did you kiss Paisley?”

“It will never happen again,” he said, hiccupping.

“Does she turn you on?”

A frustrated noise came out of his throat. “Paisley is immature and just as vulgar as you said, a common glass of water most men would drink to slake their thirst and then forget.”

Arrogant prick
.

I let out a huff that was, ironically, exactly like one of Caroline’s. James hiccupped and I turned towards the sound of his voice, ready to return his insult. Then I remembered I was naked and clamped my hand over my mouth. He would accuse me of throwing myself at him, of being so desperate for sex I would trick him into it by lying in wait. This called for a change of plan: get off the bed, get dressed and
then
get angry.

As soon as he let go of my arm.

“Please forgive me, darling. Paisley’s nothing compared to you, the goddess of my dreams,” he said.

Ugh, where did James come up with such dross? I tried to pull away but in spite of the drink, his hold was impossible to escape. He had switched to lawyer mode, comparing me to Caroline and summarising my character or lack of therein. Making his case for forgiveness, James listed the reasons he’d fallen in love with Caroline. The more I listened, the more I wondered who the fuck he was talking about.

Compassionate? Tender? The man was a fool.

James closed his argument by pushing my hair aside to press his lips to the delicate spot behind my ear. It was seductive. Persuasive. I wanted to break away but I couldn’t; his lips were a magnet, pulling me closer.

“Let me convince you how sorry I am. Let me show you how much
you
turn me on,” he said, tracing the goose bumps on my neck.

I couldn’t help the nervous giggle that slipped out of my mouth. A tipsy James was a horny James. I drew back but his lips covered my erratic pulse and I froze, eyes shut as a small sigh escaped me. He increased the pressure and my heart rate hit the ceiling. My mind still wanted him to pay for his insults but my body wanted him to show me anything he liked. He kissed a slow path from my neck to the corner of my mouth, pausing to breathe in my scent. I parted my lips in anticipation.

“Forgive me,” he said, and slanted his mouth over mine.

James didn’t disappoint, even in his cups. When his lips touched mine, I was just as drawn to him as I had been earlier. The kiss was different though, a deliberately sensual onslaught delivered with a controlled passion that was equally devastating in its effectiveness. I melted into his mouth, my lips moving under his even as I battled the sensations he evoked. He held my head as if I was fragile, as if he feared I would break if he weren’t careful.

A novel experience.

When men kissed me they stuck their tongues down my throat and copped a feel of breast and bottom. Just as James had done outside the bathroom, although not with the same mastery. Yet here he was, alone with me in Caroline’s blacked-out bedroom, worshipping my mouth like I really was a goddess, both hands above my neck because he respected Caroline’s no-contact wishes.

His dedication was shattering; it was arousing. I craved him like I’d craved the fix a few hours earlier, maybe more. I wanted him to crave me back, to lose his careful control and be so crazy for me he’d do anything to have me. Then I would—

I would reveal my identity, I reminded myself firmly. I would watch him writhe in the worst case of blue balls ever had by a supercilious lawyer toff. And I would enjoy it, damn it.

The sane, more mature part of my brain weighed in with her opinion but I tuned her out. I found it hard to listen to her even when I was sober, so why should I try to now? I deepened the kiss and James jerked back in surprise. He swayed and I groped for him in the dark, kneeling on the bed to grab his shoulders and pull him closer, letting my senses guide me to his mouth. My forehead cracked against his jaw and he grunted in pain.

Fucking blackout blinds
.

Brilliant blackout blinds
, I corrected, kissing his chin to apologise. His jaw was rough with a growing shadow, tiny prickles that grazed my lips and made them tingle. I’d kissed a lot of men before but why had I never pressed the rise and fall of an Adam’s apple against my mouth? Or tasted the hollow of a man’s neck and the hard ridge of his collarbone? The need to touch, to taste and experience more of
this
man made me kiss a deliberate, zigzagging trail down his chest.

James’s nipples were erect under his shirt, so hard I could nip at them with my teeth. His breath caught and he fastened his hands around my waist, crushing me to his chest and exploring my body tentatively, as if he couldn’t believe he was touching naked flesh.

“Darling, I’ll stop if you want me to,” he said.

I’m embarrassed to admit I actually lunged at him. That insistent little voice screamed at me to stop but the taste of him was a more powerful elixir than revenge. Every atom in my body wanted to fuse with every atom of his. I undid his belt, popping the button on his trousers and unzipping him quickly. His boxers were silky, moist with his arousal. His hand found my breast, making me ache for him to take my swollen nipple into his mouth.

“Gorgeous and full, just like Pais—” he said.

Yes!
He’d been about to say my name and it thrilled me, drugging me even more than his kisses. I clamped a hand over his bulge and he jumped.

“Are you ok?”

I was better than okay, but I knew what he meant. There was nothing modest or virginal about my behaviour. Nothing
Caroline
. I couldn’t help cupping him though, massaging him with my fingers and—holy shit, was I in bed with James and the Giant Prick? He was full and heavy, getting harder every second.

It was the perfect moment to tell him who I was.

Do it
, my mind screamed.

No, I wasn’t ready to reveal myself. I squeezed my eyes shut in an effort to buffer the truth, wanting to believe I needed more time for my revenge. But it was no use; I needed more time with
him
.
Just enough to make him come
, I amended hastily, and then l would laugh in his face.

I yanked his boxers down and took him into my hand. Just as I’d hoped, he stopped thinking. He was smoking hot, becoming more rigid as he grew and lengthened unencumbered. I inhaled deeply, my nostrils flaring with the soft animal scent of a man in heat. It made me burn with the urge to take him into my mouth and taste him but I circled him with my fingers instead. He was the perfect size. I twisted my palm rhythmically, enjoying the sharp intake of his breath.

James was submissive to my touch. Vulnerable. Sliding and gliding in my hand, hard and slick and powerful. I’d done this plenty of times before but with him I felt alive, every nerve on alert. Connected. I couldn’t help a few sighs of my own as the low rumble in his throat grew louder, making it harder to hold on to my angry objective.

“Sweetheart,” he said thickly, “you don’t have to compete with your slutty sister.”

I jerked my hand off him, sucking in my breath as if I’d been slapped. It sure as hell cleared my head to hear myself described that way. My whole body was stiff with wounded pride, snapping me back into revenge mode. It wasn’t enough to make him come anymore. I wanted him naked for his humiliation.

You just want him naked
, my mind sneered.

I yanked his shirt up, a silent demand for him to take it off. My lips explored the length of his taut six-pack. The little trickle of sweat I licked up from his chest was like the salt on a margarita, making me thirsty for more. Angry at my response to him, I bit down and sucked hard enough to leave marks. It upped his arousal, and much as I tried to stifle it, his enjoyment stimulated my own.

“What’s come over you? Is it because of Paisley? Paisley...” he said, bucking harder into my hand.