Hidden Scars (15 page)

       The first stage of his plan was put into play once they’d cleared away the remains of dinner. His exploration of her mouth was thorough, bordering on tender, and she went pliant in his arms. “I thought I told you I wasn’t fragile.” She tipped her head back as he licked down the line of her throat.

       “Not fragile. Just worthy of being savored.” He circled her out of the kitchen and down the hall, kissing her all the while. Her mouth was addictive. He could spend hours mapping the curves of her body. One day he would. He’d kidnap her and make her a hostage to pleasure.

       She fell onto the bed, and he cupped her ass, lifted her further so he could climb up beside her. He grasped the hem of the shirt. “You should have told me how long it’d been,” he murmured, tracing kisses over her abdomen. He already loved this part of her, the sweet femininity of it, loved how she trembled as he went lower, over her hip bone, nipping and suckling the delicate skin of her inner thighs.

       It was easy to go slower. He mapped every inch of her, easing in, watched her fall apart beneath him. Watched her break open and lay herself out, ripe for the plucking.

       But he couldn’t give her the same, couldn’t find that vulnerability to match hers, even as he lost himself in her. Even as her name tumbled from his lips.

       It shouldn’t have surprised him when he woke in the dark hours later, the space beside him rumpled and cold. Tension had tightened her limbs as she settled against him for sleep, and he should have asked why. Getting up, he checked the living room, knowing he wouldn’t find her curled up on the couch or in the chair. The lock on the front door was open. He flipped it closed.

       It shouldn’t have surprised him. Yet it did.

       Taylor didn’t stalk into her office first thing.

       It added to her store of nerves. She’d tried to hold on to the loose, languid feeling their sex had brought on, cuddling against Taylor. Even after just a few hours together, his naked body felt familiar to her. She’d already spent the night with him once before, and he’d been a perfect gentleman. But she’d woken a few hours later in a panic, and she’d been unable to quell her fear. So she’d slipped out of bed, dressed, and snuck out of his apartment, shame preventing her from waking him for a ride. She’d been doing so well, and then this happened.

       She wanted to kick herself.

       Her morning already off to a bad start, she frowned at the email from her dad, letting her know Mom wasn’t taking her word for it and they’d be there tonight. Her inbox pinged with a meeting invite from her boss, and she scanned the attached message, her frown deepening as she pulled up the requested information.

       Sara flipped her pen back and forth, staring at the spreadsheet on her monitor. Was Larry looking for errors? Had she missed a client request?

       The resumes she’d sent out weeks ago hadn’t garnered any responses. It had been so long since she’d applied for a job, she didn’t know what the standard response time was any longer, if it was weeks or months, if she should follow up if she didn’t hear a response.

       The client email complaining about the lax product servicing had her covering her face with her hands. She couldn’t take much more of this. Something had to come through soon.
Something
had to give. The economy wasn’t
that
bad.

       Hands closed around her wrists and she jolted, sucking in air to scream. It died in her throat as her eyes locked on Taylor’s, the hazel swirling with a wariness and confusion that had her tugging at his hold. “Don’t
scare
me like that. Jesus.”

       “Don’t leave in the middle of the night like that, Sara. It’s not safe. You want to go home, wake me and I’ll take you.”

       His hold was gentle, and she tugged her wrists free. “I’m sorry. You were sleeping pretty soundly, and I didn’t want to wake you. I called a cab from the lobby of your building.”

       This time he reached out and cupped her face in his hands. “Sara. It’s okay if you didn’t want to sleep over.”

       She squeezed her eyes shut, breath hitching as his thumbs swept over her cheeks. “I panicked,” she whispered. “Everything was fine, and then it wasn’t.” She opened her eyes, misery dragging on her heart. “It was embarrassing, and I didn’t want you to see it.”

       He cocked a brow. “How is it different from you jumping out of your skin every time I come up behind you?”

       “It is,” she grumbled. His touch was hypnotic. She shifted on her feet, and he slid his hands from her face to her shoulders, not stopping until they were at her waist. “It’s easy in theory. Not so easy to do. Allowing someone into your body is different from allowing them to share your bed. It requires a new level of trust. You’re giving them a part of you that you won’t get back. It’s theirs to tend to, or abuse. And even if you wrench it away, it’s not yours anymore.” Cold slunk into her bones. Sleep left you defenseless, in more ways than one. She’d woken many times with Sam’s arms straitjacketed around her, crushing the air from her lungs. At first she’d loved it, loved the feeling of being cherished even in sleep. It faded as her fear of him grew.

       Taylor’s face was more than blank. It was shuttered. Tears gathered in her throat. She eased away and walked over to the window, staring down at the street. She hated that look. That was the look associated with the Taylor who didn’t know her. Didn’t know she’d scream her head off for WVU basketball, didn’t know Rebekah Cross made her laugh and cry, often at the same time, didn’t know that everything was better with bacon. It took back all the big things and tiny moments over the past two months and relegated them to the level of colleagues.

       It was her move, she realized. She’d hugged him first, kissed him first, told him she was ready. And she had been; she didn’t regret making love with him. In fact, she was happy her first time in so long had been with him. He’d reminded her in a scant few hours how powerful a connection sex could be, and despite her fear in the middle of the night, she wanted to keep trying with him, see their connection deepen.

       It would always be her move, because somewhere buried inside him was the same fear she carried in a box, of holding out her heart for someone to take only to have them smash it to a pulp.

       “If you think that I’ve had years to get over what Sam did to me and should be back to normal, you’re an ass.” Her tone was so mild she could have been discussing the weather. Leaden skies hung low, promising more rain. She’d like to walk in it. She’d like to get drenched, clothing sticking to skin, and jump in mud puddles and pretend she didn’t have a care in the world.

       Crossing her arms over her chest, she turned around. He was in the same place, his expression unchanged. “I don’t know what I can tell you to make you understand what it’s like to be terrified of someone. For a long, long time I thought I was trapped. It didn’t matter what I tried to do to get free, because I would always fail. He used to hold me. At night.” Her legs started to shake from the memory of Sam’s arms around her waist, and she locked her knees. “If I made the smallest movement, he’d squeeze. Even in his sleep, he was determined to suffocate me so no one else could have me.” It was what he’d whispered in her ear while the tip of the knife pricked her skin. If he couldn’t have her, no one would. A laughable cliché turned deadly when the blood dripped from the nick on her throat.

       His gaze softened. The careful blankness was gone. The man she knew, the man she’d surprised smiles and laughter out of, slowly crawled back into his eyes. It steadied her enough to take a step forward. “I may kick you out. I might take off in the middle of the night again. I might scream and wake you before I remember you’re not him.” Another step. He’d gone still, waiting. Always waiting. “I’ll get there, eventually.” God, she hoped he’d be there at the end of it. All the getting to know you conversations, the comfortable, easy silences, the fiery kisses she swore made her heart catch fire…she wanted more of everything, and she wanted it with him.

       She closed the last of the distance between them, resting her hands on his chest. She wasn’t starting to trust him. She
did
. That was why sleeping with him last night felt like the right thing to do.

       Snagging her wrist, he drew her hand down. “How’s your hand doing?”

       She let him hold it, stroking over her knuckles, wiggling her fingers and watching her face for hints of pain. “Better?”

       “Better,” she agreed. She should tell him about the meeting she was to have with their boss. Maybe he could think of something she didn’t. “Larry’s called me in for a meeting. I need to figure out what it’s for so he doesn’t spring something on me.”

       He drew back, frowning. “He didn’t tell you in the invite?”

       “Just said something about needing to go over some client information. My bad news radar is quivering. Whatever he wants, I don’t think it’s anything good.” She sat and ran a hand through her hair. Already skittery, his intense gaze sent her right to the edge. “It’s because of Jeremy. You said they’re related, right? I turned him down, and really, I ought to go straight to HR, file a complaint and get his ass tossed out of here, and he goes running off like a girl in the schoolyard, ready to tattle to the first teacher he sees.”

       “Easy there.” His half-smile had her growling, and the noise brought the other corner of his mouth up. “Filing a complaint’s probably a smart idea. Kaylin would help you out, wouldn’t she?”

       Sara considered the suggestion. Kaylin
was
in HR, and it was part of her job, most likely. But she remembered how Kaylin had reacted when Sara told her about the disastrous date with Kaylin’s brother. What if she ran to Jeremy and told him before Sara had a chance to get back to her office?

       “Sara?”

       She started. “No, not Kaylin. Kaylin…” Her hand fluttered uselessly. “Kaylin’s into Jeremy. And we’re friendly, if not actually friends. I’d be better off going to someone else in Human Resources anyway. I’d need an unbiased reporter.”

       Legs wobbly, she stood, swaying in her heels. “Fuck me,” she whispered. Everything had been perfect for a few hours yesterday evening. Then she’d left Taylor asleep in his bed and it had all fallen to pieces around her.
Suck it up, Sara
. Straightening her shoulders, she stepped forward, slid her hands into his hair, and leveled her gaze at him. “Will you come home with me tonight?” Her voice was quiet. “I want to try again. Sleeping next to you. Maybe being in my own bed will help.”

       “Love to,” he murmured. The nearness of him sucked her in, and she kissed him, slanting her mouth over his in a slow, deep kiss, the warmth and desire in it flooding her.

       He let her control it, and she took her time, steeping herself in the surety of his response to her. It gave her the strength to walk out of her office, not stopping until she was in Human Resources and in front of the director’s door.

       The director, Margie, looked like a human resources director. Solid and calm, she gave off the impression all she had to do was say a single word in a reasonable tone of voice and someone would be scurrying off to do her bidding. Blue eyes regarded her with professional detachment as she stepped inside. “How can I help you?”

       Sara held out a hand, her confidence bolstered when Margie shook it immediately. “My name is Sara Andrews. I’m one of the sales executives here, and I need to file a complaint.”

       The other woman opened a drawer, pulled out a carbon copy form, and selected a pen. “State your complaint clearly and concisely. Please include any witnesses, and sign and date at the bottom.” Sara blanched. “Is there a problem?”

       She stared at the form. She didn’t have to drag Kaylin into this. Or she could have more faith in her. She opted for the latter. Picking up the pen, she wrote down Jeremy’s request she join him for a drink, doing her best to recount word for word what he’d said, adding that both Taylor Smith and Kaylin Rogers had been there, one at each incident. She signed her name and jotted down the date.

       Margie skimmed over the account, brows going up as she reached the bottom. “Before I sign this, I want to make sure I understand. Jeremy Potter acted in an inappropriate and sexually forward manner toward you on two separate occasions. He claimed he ‘owed you one,’ correct?”

       She nodded, then hesitated. “Will it damage the credibility of my statement if I tell you Taylor Smith and I are involved?”

       Margie was reading the statement again. “No,” she said absently. “From your account, it appears Kaylin Rogers witnessed at least the beginning of the second incident. No one was in the office when he actually asked you to meet him for a drink?”

       “No. He did bring up my relationship with Taylor. I told him it was none of his business.”

       She set the paper aside. “And it isn’t. As long as the two of you are engaging in a consensual relationship, there’s nothing inappropriate about it. I’ll see that this is filed in Mr. Potter’s file.” She tore off the bottom carbon. “Your copy.”

       Sara clutched the paper in her hand as she left. Better to be overzealous, she told herself. Jeremy’s overture had been annoying and unwelcome, but she’d wanted to punch him, not shrink away from him.

       It was a metaphorical punch, then. In the balls.

       The meeting alarm on her computer was going off when she returned, and she dashed around her desk to shut it off. Her recently settled stomach took off again, swooping like a roller coaster as she forced herself to walk slowly to Larry’s office. She could handle whatever he threw at her. Her job was safe; her numbers proved it.

       She took a moment to smooth her slacks over her hips. Larry’s
come in
was faint through the door, and his face was grave when he opened it. “Sara. Thank you for coming.”

       Her heart wanted to jump out of her chest and hide like a rabbit. “Is there something wrong?” She perched on the edge of one of the visitor chairs.