Her Forbidden Hero (11 page)

From where Marco remained at the window, he easily heard the
click
of the bedroom door as she closed it between them.

…

Alyssa sat on the edge of Marco’s bed torn between heartbreak and lust. The former based on the awful finality of his words. The latter based on the betrayal of Marco’s body as he said them. When she’d averted her gaze from his face, her eyes drifted down, and she’d been stunned to find a bulge filling out the front of his jeans.

She couldn’t get the image out of her mind’s eye, and the lust was slowly but surely beating the heartbreak into submission.

Okay, take a breath, Aly. Think
.

She debated the meaning of the seeming contradiction for a few moments and came to the conclusion that Marco didn’t want to want her, but he did. Maybe? Possibly?

Or maybe she was neck deep in wishful thinking.

Oh, why were men so complicated? Or, at least, this man?

Alyssa badly needed something simple and straightforward. The last two nights’ less-than-stellar sleep left her weary and heavy-eyed. All at once, her earlier plan for the afternoon returned to her: back before the whole playing-house-with-the-man-of-her-dreams thing happened, her intent had been nothing more taxing than worshipping the sun. She didn’t have a pool, but there was no reason she couldn’t still enjoy this beautiful summer afternoon.

She flipped open her suitcase and dug into one corner. Shivering, she threw the scraps of fabric onto the bed and undressed. The purple bikini was the only suit she owned. Last thing she wanted was Marco thinking she was pulling some cheesy stunt to reel him in. She turned to the mirror as she settled the pieces into place. The top was a more modest halter style, but it still left her tummy bare and revealed a fair amount of cleavage.

She gathered her iPhone, earbuds, and sunblock from her room, then stopped in Marco’s bathroom and fished two towels from the linen closet. A big navy towel around her body, she wandered into the kitchen and filled a glass of water.

“Al—” Marco’s voice trailed off into a strangled cough.

Alyssa turned to face him, her arms full, nervous about where things stood between them, not to mention her state of undress. “Did you need something?”

“Uh. No.” His gaze dragged down the front of her. “Um, what are you doing?”

She couldn’t meet his eyes. “I thought I’d enjoy the sun for a while. If that’s okay with
you
.” Alyssa mustered the courage to meet his gaze. His expression was dumbfounded. Whatever. She was too tired to figure him out right now. Sighing, she crossed the room, sure she could feel his eyes on her back. She had to juggle things for a moment to open the kitchen door, but then she was walking out onto a wide back porch that stepped down into a small but inviting yard.

Oh, what a beautiful view. There was no single peak to the mountains around Frederick. The Blue Ridge Mountains, of which Braddock Mountain was a part, really did live up to their name—they were a series of ridges that rose and fell all the way out to the western part of the state.

Alyssa dropped her supplies to the ground and released the towel covering her body. Bending, she flicked the terry out over the grass until it settled into a smooth rectangle. Sunblock was the next order of business—the last thing she wanted was to burn, especially if she fell asleep. As she smoothed it on her legs, she glanced up and nearly gasped. Inside, Marco leaned against the jamb of the back door. Watching her.

He didn’t try to hide his gaze. Or pretend standing there had been coincidental.

He looked like a man dying of thirst.

Alyssa shivered. Hopefully she appeared unruffled on the outside, because on the inside, her heart lurched into a sprint that had her hands shaking as she applied lotion to her stomach, chest, shoulders. She tossed the bottle to the grass next to her and chanced another glance to the door.

Marco was still there.

She reclined on her towel, a strange tingling erupting over her skin.

With her iTunes set to a mellow playlist, Alyssa inserted her earbuds and concentrated on breathing. Soon, the weight of the sun’s rays pressed her into the ground until every bit of tension drained from her muscles. For long moments, she hovered on the edge of consciousness. And then she gave in to her body’s demands and fell softly asleep.

…

Walk away, man. Walk away.

But Marco couldn’t. Because Alyssa had literally mesmerized him.

Shit. All the times they’d gone up to Cunningham Falls to go swimming at the lake when they were kids… Never once had he viewed her as anything but his best friend’s sweet little sister. Of course he hadn’t.

But while Alyssa was still sweet—and still Brady’s younger sister—she wasn’t little. She wasn’t a girl. She should be off-limits—no, she
was
off-limits, for so many reasons—but his body didn’t seem to be getting the message.

Truth be told, his body wasn’t the only one ignoring what ought to be accepted fact. Her presence, her touch, the kindness and acceptance in her eyes—all of these offered the promise of comfort in a way little else had this past year. Her laugh and her positivity uncovered a part of him—the
old
Marco—he’d been unable to find in the darkness and confusion of his damaged mind. Problem was, he saw the idolization in her eyes, too. While she thought she was looking at the guy she’d known four years ago, and for a lifetime before that, she had no idea he was only half the man he’d been.

And when she figured it out, seeing the realization on her face would slay him.

Even if she could grow to accept who he was now, would it really be fair of him to ask her to accept less than she deserved?

Because Alyssa Scott deserved it all.

His gaze dragged over her still form. The sun shone off her long hair as if it had a high-gloss finish. Her skin glistened, and that purple bikini left way too fucking little to his imagination to be good for his sanity. Jesus, she was stunning. Petite and fit, with curves where women ought to have curves. He could almost smell the sun on her skin, taste the salt of her sweat on his tongue, sense how the hot silk of her hair and the heated firmness of her hip would feel in his hands.

Without thinking, Marco stepped onto the porch and walked down into the grass. Before he knew it, he was standing over Alyssa, his body casting a long shadow over the length of hers. Warring desires rocked through him. But for now, being near her was enough—would
have to be
enough.

Moving to her side, he spread out the extra towel she’d brought beside her and lay down on his back. The sun was too hot against his black jeans and its shine too bright in his eyes, but this closeness, this feeling of not being alone—maybe it meant he was even weaker than he thought, but he needed it. Jesus, he was starving for it.

Movement from the towel next to him captured his attention. Marco rolled his head to the right and found himself looking into Alyssa’s big brown eyes. She held his gaze for a long moment, neither of them talking, or moving, or avoiding the scrutiny of the other.

Finally, she turned her head back up to the sun and closed her eyes. Her hand slid across the grass between them and clasped his. His throat went tight. She’d known. Dammit, she’d known just what he needed from her. He slid his long fingers between her slender ones, linking them together more tightly.

And then he closed his eyes and struggled not to voice his greatest fear.

He might be falling in love with her.

The only thing that kept her going was her memory of the desperate need in his blue eyes while they’d lain side by side under the summer sun.

But how could she be there for someone who insisted on staying away?

Maybe he simply didn’t want her to be.

By Wednesday night, her heartache for him blossomed into the determination to simply confront him. She couldn’t go about her life acting like everything was okay when her oldest friend and the person who owned the biggest piece of her heart carried torturous pain around inside him.

Of course, she had to wait for him to come home from the gym first. In his bedroom, she changed out of her work clothes and pulled on a T-shirt and a pair of girly striped boxers. Then she planted herself on the futon, eyes on the front door, and waited. As the numbers on the LED screen of her phone passed one a.m., Alyssa struggled to remain awake, and then finally stopped fighting it. She’d hear him come in. Against one armrest, Marco had stacked a pillow on top of the folded blanket he’d been using at night, so she reclined against them and let herself drift off.

Warm arms slipped under her body and for a moment she was weightless.

Forcing her eyelids open, Alyssa looked up at the hard angle of Marco’s jaw. “Marco,” she whispered, her sleepy voice cracking.

“Shh. Don’t wake up,” he said in a low voice.

God, his body felt so good against hers. She reached up and cupped her hand around his neck. “Talk to me.”

He turned sideways with her as he stepped through the bedroom doorway. Gently, he laid her on his bed.

Before he could pull away, she laced both hands behind his neck. “Please.” In the quiet stillness of the dark room, she heard him swallow thickly.

He grabbed one of her hands and pulled it away. “Don’t.”

She couldn’t see the expression he wore, but his tone was crystal clear. Tears flooded her eyes, and she found herself so glad for the dark.

His footsteps padded quietly across the room and the door
click
ed shut. She was alone.

But that little exchange hammered the nails into the coffin of sleeping for the night. After maybe an hour, she sat up and debated. She pushed out of bed and opened the door. Finding the house dark, she crossed the hallway to the dining room doorway and listened.

It didn’t take long to hear what she’d come in there for. The strangled whimpers and half cries echoing from the front room broke her heart.

She tiptoed over to the futon, which was silly, since she was planning to wake him. “Marco?” she whispered. She moved closer. “Marco?”

The diffuse moonlight through the front windows allowed her to make out his position, laying on his back, the covers twisted around his legs. She knelt beside the futon and laid a gentle hand on top of one of his, which strained and fisted into the blanket.

He released an anguished gasp that sent her heart into double time. She inhaled to say his name again just as his fist went slack under her grip. Still unconscious, he angled his head toward her and exhaled a shaky breath.

Minutes later, his breathing evened out into the slow and soft rhythm of normal sleep.

Alyssa burst into tears. She pressed her hand over her mouth to smother the sound and felt her sorrow for him drip over her knuckles. As much as her outburst was borne out of her grief for his pain, it was also the result of a bone-deep relief. Had she finally found a way to help him? Even if he didn’t know it—even if he could
never
know it—she’d watch over him as he slept. If her presence or touch or whatever it was calmed him, she’d give him as much as he needed to protect him from his nightmares.

Her tears dried up, her legs fell asleep, and the moonlight moved across the room and disappeared. Hours later, the blackness turned gray. Time for her to go.

Holding her breath, Alyssa withdrew her hand and unfolded her legs. The pins and needles were terrible, and worse when she moved, but it was worth it. She limped across the room, gritting her teeth the whole way, and finally breathed again when the bedroom door closed behind her.

Tired as she was, she could’ve tossed her head back and cried out in triumph. Whatever tormented him was more than she could handle alone—she knew enough to know that—but if standing guard against his demons at night allowed him the peace of a decent sleep, she would do it. How many nights had he sat with her until she fell asleep when she was a kid? Brady had, too, of course, but her brother was possibly the most tone-deaf person on the planet, whereas Marco could sing and play the guitar. And many nights he’d sung her to sleep.

His presence and his music had kept her safe all those years ago. Had helped her to forget.

Now she could do the same for him.

She collapsed on the bed, wondering how her day could get any better. But then she remembered it was payday. Finally! She’d saved a couple hundred bucks in the half week she’d been at Marco’s, and her check should double that, easily.

Sometime later, the telltale signs of Marco moving around the house sounded out. She left her room and found him in the kitchen wearing only a pair of beat-up jeans that hung low on his hips. His arms were braced on the counter and he was staring at the coffeemaker like he might be able to will it to brew faster.

For a long moment, she drank him in with her gaze. His back was a sculpted canvas of muscle, one she longed to trace with her fingers and tongue. He was so damn gorgeous. Would she ever have the chance to show him just how much she loved him?