Hyde, an Urban Fantasy (40 page)

She heard him quietly singing in the shower and headed downstairs, famished. This much action could make a girl hungry. Laughing at how far she’d come, she looked down at her naked body. Comfortable. Powerful. Complete. Starving and thirsty, too.

In the kitchen, she stuffed a croissant in her mouth and leaned into the fridge.
Oh, green flavor!
She grabbed the power drink and twisted off the cap, then took another for Mitch, tucking it under her arm. Contemplating the need for hydration versus how many she could carry, she took a few big gulps and then popped the croissant back into her mouth.

“Where. Is. Mitch?”

Eden turned toward the angry voice behind her, and mumbled, “Hi, Jolie,” from the corner of her mouth.

Jolie apparently wasn’t impressed by naked, multiple-juice-holding women with pastries between their teeth. Darn it. Holding a paper bag with tiny grease spots blooming on the bottom, Jolie stood with her other hand on her waist, hip jutting out, and resentment in her eyes.

“I didn’t realize you were a nurse too, Eden. Don’t they usually wear clothes?”

Fumbling the bottles in a feeble attempt at covering her crotch and breasts, Eden held her ground. What did she have to prove to this woman? She wasn’t doing anything wrong. Embarrassing, oh yeah. Wrong, no. She had more claim on Mitch than his assistant did. At least for the present moment.

“Are you mute?”

Eden set down the bottle that had been insufficiently covering her chest, took the croissant out of her mouth and offered it to Jolie. “Are you hungry?” Her smile was forced and tight, but it was there. And that made Eden proud.

“You have no idea what you are doing to him.” Jolie’s entire body was taut. “He’s screwing up his entire life, do you understand that?”

Eden cocked her head to the side. “Funny. I thought you were his assistant, not his mother. Mitch is a grown-up,
Mom
. He gets to make his own decisions.”

“Probably screwing up your entire life too.” Jolie plopped the bag on the counter, its liquid contents tipping over and darkening the bag. “Damn it!” She righted the bag, angrily scooting it away from the edge of the counter and grabbing a towel to wipe her hands.

“Get back up here.” Mitch’s fierce baritone sailed down the stairs into the kitchen. “Now.”

The women held each other’s gazes—Eden’s discomfort, Jolie’s spitting fire.

“I think he’s talking to me.” Eden grinned. “But I’ll go get him for you.” She hustled upstairs, hearing Jolie’s heels clacking on the wood floors right behind her. When Eden entered the room, she nudged the door closed with a hip, tossed a power drink toward a smiling Mitch and grabbed the crumpled sheet off the bed to cover herself.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

Before Eden had a chance to speak or turn, she heard the soft squeak of the door and watched the corner of Mitch’s mouth curl up in a sneer. “She’s behind me, isn’t she?”

“What are you doing here?” His voice was harsh, eyes threatening, body buck-naked and wet.

“I brought you soup, you bastard!” Jolie was close to tears. It was a heck of a reaction. Because he lied to her or because of what she’d found?

Mitch made a half-shrug. “Thanks.”

“Why did you lie to me?”

Oh, it was the lie. That was good. Eden decided she needed to go to the bathroom. To hide until the sparks stopped flying.

As she crossed in front of Mitch to escape, he grabbed her arm, his fingers forcing dents into her skin. “You stay.” Then turned to Jolie. “You go. I’ll call you later.”

Jolie didn’t move. Nobody moved. “So what? You guys have been playing house for the last four days? That’s so . . . sweet.”

Yeah, not believing she meant that.

Apparently Mitch didn’t believe it either. “Yes, I lied. What’s the problem? I lie all the time.”

“Not to me, you don’t.”

“I’m not having this conversation with you right now. Thank you for your concern. I’ll see you at the office tomorrow.”

Jolie stared at him for about . . . forever. Tears welled in her eyes as she searched his face.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Jolie.”

Her shoulders dropped. “I’m not sure you will.” She spun on her heels and stormed out.

His eyes were stuck to the wall, unseeing, until they heard the front door slam. Then he relaxed his grip on her arm. “I think she might be mad at me.”

“I think that’s a good bet.” Eden busied herself with the cap on her drink, not sure where the situation left them.

He reached out and tugged the sheet she was wrapped in. “Drop it.”

She looked at him, wondering how long they could pretend everything hadn’t changed, terrified how much it had. Untucking her arms from her sides, she sent the barrier between them to the floor and stood, unabashed, before him.

“You’re so fucking beautiful.” His voice drowned in regret as he took her in his arms and clutched her to his chest.

His heart beat filled her head, flashes of them bound together darting through her mind. It was over
. It was really over.
She stood on her tippy toes to kiss him. To thank him. “I should get dressed.”

He held her away from him so he could look her in the eyes, confused. “No.” His voice broke. “No, you shouldn’t.”

“Reality sucks, but that doesn’t make it any less real.” She wouldn’t cry or beg him for more time. She’d just embarrass herself. He’d given her everything she’d asked him for. Make that, everything
period
. There was no chance for them to have a regular relationship. All they’d been doing was pretending they weren’t what they were.

“I should go,” she said. “Leave you alone.”

§         
§          §

Oh, God.
She’d come to her senses. He’d been believing in a fantasy in which he was actually
good
enough for her. He couldn’t prove what wasn’t true to begin with. What could
never
be true. There was no way to stop her from realizing the truth. To pretend Hyde didn’t exist. Pretend he could have a normal—no, an
amazing
life with her. But sooner or later Hyde would reappear, Mitch’s feelings making him even more vicious.

And someday, Hyde would hurt her. And Mitch wouldn’t be able to stop it.

 But he’d only gotten four days! Four fucking days of her. That wasn’t fair. How was that fair? How was he supposed to go back and live with himself as he always had?

“No.” He wouldn’t let it happen. That was it. There was no choice here, nothing to decide. She was
his
. He’d find a way. Later. He’d find a way to deal with Hyde later. Not now. He picked her up and carried her to the bed.

She didn’t struggle, her face tucked into his chest, her breath hiccupping slightly as he set her down and laid next to her.

He caressed her arm, her neck, her face. Trying to reclaim what they’d had twenty minutes before, his hands were almost frantic.

She wouldn’t look at him. Why wasn’t she looking at him? His heart plummeted as he realized it was because she knew this dream was over. She knew that, even as a man, he would never be what she deserved. Any words he might use to express himself would be unworthy—unworthy of her ears, unworthy of her heart.

He’d been right—there was no choice. But
she
had been the one to choose, and she hadn’t chosen him.
Wise decision.
He tried to turn her head to his, to receive his kiss, but she was stiff and unyielding.

“Please, Eden,” he begged, his lips grazing her cheek. He’d die if he couldn’t touch her again. Curl up and fucking wilt like an annual in the fall.

“One more time,” he whispered.

§         
§          §

Only one more time?

Looking into his breathtaking eyes, dark lashes, Eden realized she was addicted to him. But it took more hope than she could muster to imagine he felt the same. He’d given her a gift that had lasted four days. Still not long enough, but certainly more than she had asked for. Shouldn’t bother wishing for more. And what could she say anyway? If she poured her heart out and told him what she really wanted, his expression might change to shock or horror. If she stayed silent, she wouldn’t have to see the truth of his rejection.

He’d go back to his regular life, locking Chastity up until Eden could gather enough money to get her own cage. Unless he decided to buy her another gift just to hurry her out of his life. She couldn’t blame him. Or be angry about it. She needed to suck it up and fake satisfaction as long as he chose to let her stick around, tell herself that she could be happy without him. She was good at that. She had lots of practice with denial. That’s how she’d thank him for what he’d given her.

But right now, with his hands running across her skin, making her shudder, she could give him something he wanted. Something that might satisfy him, if not her. Without him next to her eternally, she’d never be satisfied.

One more time—that’s what he was asking for. Before he walked away.

She opened herself up to him, wishing it didn’t have to be the last time, and primed every nerve in her body for his touch. This was something she wanted to be able to remember when she was alone. Forever.

§         
§          §

He didn’t want to come. That would end it. Each orgasm he gave her, each time her body clenched around his, was almost unbearable. He wanted to fill her perpetually, hang onto her for as long as he could.

§         
§          §

He was everywhere inside her, but it still wasn’t enough. She couldn’t open any more, couldn’t give him what he needed. Because she just didn’t know what it was. If she had, it would have been his. Instantly. If it was within her power to give, she would have given it to him. But it wasn’t.

It hurt not to be enough for him. The pleasure he brought her was bittersweet with its goodbye.

§         
§          §

When he could no longer hold himself back, he took her mouth with his and released into her with a groan. It hurt. Incredible pleasure mixed with goodbye.

§         
§          §

It has to be this way . . . for everyone’s sake.

They stayed joined together for longer than they should have, still kissing. It wasn’t going to get easier. With that in mind, Mitch shifted his weight off her, dragging his lips away from hers.

She let out a sigh and ducked her head as she rolled away from him, avoiding his eyes. “Can I borrow some clothes?”

“Yeah.” He climbed out of their bed and rummaged through the dresser to find her something suitable.

“Mitch?” Her voice was small, uncertain.

He whipped his head around like he was expecting her to— He took a breath. To what? Tell him she didn’t want to live without him? Tell him she felt the same way he did? That they’d make it work? “Yeah?”

“Is it alright if I use the cage tonight? For Chastity?” She shrugged. “If not, I’ll understand . . . if you’d rather I leave.” She didn’t meet his eyes, drawing into herself as if she was resuming the distant and unequal relationship they’d had before. As if nothing had changed. When, for him,
everything
had changed.

Instantly anger churned in his stomach, piped though his veins, scorched his lungs. How could the four best days of his life mean nothing to her other than an experiment of “Can I or Can’t I”? How could she not
know
him after that?  “Of course, you can use the cage.” His words came out in not much more than a growl. “Do whatever you want.”

He threw a white tank top and black shorts to her without turning, and then slipped another pair of shorts on his own body.

“Thanks. It’s almost time, isn’t it?”

He glanced at the clock. “Yeah. Almost time.”

“I think I’ll go there now. I’m tired.” She grabbed her power drink from the night stand and guzzled it. “Thirsty too.”