Impulsive (24 page)

“I didn’t know you were going to parade around naked in front of everyone. I thought I could trust you not to…not to…” He stopped himself short and scrubbed trembling hands over his face.
 

“Not to have a good time? Not to enjoy myself? Did you think I’d just sit in the corner and wait for you?” By this time, she was trembling too, with anger and frustration and hurt. “Well, you were wrong. Go back to your boyfriend, Luke. I’ll be just fine.”
 

He reared back as if she’d slapped him. Maybe she’d gone too far, swept up in the impulse of hurt and anger. She refused to feel bad for telling him the truth.

“You’re being a baby,” he said.

She tried to push past him, but he caught one of her arms. The dangerous light in his eyes sent a thrill of conflicting emotions throughout her body. Tension stiffened his jaw. A scruff of bearded shadow stubbled his cheeks.
 

“Where were you all day?” She yanked her arm free. Tears pricked the backs of her eyelids. “Why did you bring me here if all you wanted was to be with him?”

“Don’t talk like that.” The angry fire in his eyes softened to a simmer. He caressed the side of her face with the back of his fingers. “We went for a drive around the lake. We started talking and lost track of time. I’ve been looking for you forever. There are so many people here.”

Evening shadows bathed the inside of the boathouse. Through the gloom she could make out the silhouettes of a chaise lounge and loveseat, not much more. He took a step toward her. She didn’t back away.

“Why didn’t you tell me about Caroline? Why does Elijah know and not me?”
 

A beam of the setting sun shafted through the open window and caught in his black hair. He gripped her cheek in his hand, the pad of his thumb resting over the pulse point below her jaw. She met his stare with equal intensity.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hide anything from you.” His eyes softened. “It’s no big thing. I won’t even be working with her. Everything between us ended years ago, Tash. She’s nothing to worry about.”

“But what about Elijah? Is he something to worry about?”

Luke drew in a deep breath to steady his thoughts. He’d had too many cocktails to count and was much drunker than he’d intended to get. Elijah had that effect on people. He had a way of persuading people to go against their better judgment, wearing down their common sense with his charm and persuasive wit.

What should’ve been a relaxing break from work was turning into a nightmare. All he’d wanted was a few days away from home with his two best friends. Was it too much to ask?

The sight of Tasha naked and stretched out on the chaise had sent him into a panic, and he’d cursed himself for leaving her alone. The idea of her nude body exposed to all those strangers made him sick to his stomach. Once, he’d enjoyed the rowdy crowd and all-night partying, but now all he could think about was the peace and quiet of home.

A stray beam of sunlight slanted through the boathouse window. Tasha wrapped her arms around her bare torso and shivered. Luke stripped off his T-shirt and dropped it over her head. It hung to her knees, but he loved the way it looked on her. Even though she declined to be his girlfriend, it marked her as his.

They lay together in the darkness. Fingers intertwined. Legs tangled. The slow rush and hiss of the water beneath the boathouse was broken only by the thumping of their hearts. Boneless and breathless, neither of them moved for a long time.
 

Tasha turned on her side to look at him. He tightened his grip on her hand. Those large, luminous eyes tugged on his heart. He could look into them all night.

“Don’t move,” he whispered. “I want to enjoy this for a little longer.”

 
“I don’t ever want to move,” she replied.

He lifted her hand to his lips and kissed the palm before placing it flat on his belly. It felt good to lie here, removed from reality, in a rock star’s boathouse.
 

They made love, slow and unhurried. When they finished, they dressed and made their way back to the house under a starless sky. By this time, the party was in full swing. They crept in through the kitchen entrance and went to the guest room Elijah had offered. Exhausted from too much sun, liquor, and sex, they fell asleep in each other’s arms.

In the early morning hours, Tasha awoke from a disturbing nightmare with sweat on her upper lip and heart palpitating in her chest. She blinked at the unfamiliar surroundings. Her head pulsed with the beginnings of a hangover. Heat flushed her cheeks as she remembered the way Luke had claimed her in the boathouse and again two more times in this very room. She reached for him, but the bed beside her was empty, the sheets cool.
 

“Luke?”
 

She waited for an answer and heard nothing but the music from the party. The adjoining bathroom door was open, the room black. A distant flash of lightning illuminated the room. It was empty. Seconds later, thunder growled.
 

Thinking he might be hungry, she went downstairs to the kitchen. Empty beer cans and bottles littered the floors. Bodies draped across flat surfaces, some on the furniture, some on the carpet. She hurried through the living room and dining room without heed, the marble tile cool and unforgiving beneath her feet. Not finding Luke anywhere, she went back up the stairs, taking them two at a time. All of the windows were open on the lakeside. The gauzy curtains fluttered on cool wind scented with sand and rain. The fabric clung to her like clutching hands as she streaked past.

She slid around the corner of the upstairs hall and came to a halt at the threshold of Elijah’s room. The door was half open, the room couched in flickering shadows cast by dozens of candles. A low groan drifted on the air, followed by a sigh of pleasure. She stiffened and froze in place, unable to look away, the impending storm forgotten.
 

Elijah reclined on the chaise at the foot of his bed, legs sprawling over the end of the burnished brown leather. His head tipped backward, exposing the column of his neck. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed, and heavy lids drooped over darkened eyes.
 

“Deeper,” he said. His voice rasped over the word and raised shivers along her back. He shifted a little, and her eyes followed the movement past the open front of his shirt, over the curling chest hairs and tattoos, to the trail of hair leading southward into the open fly of his jeans. His fingers fisted in the curly hair of a guy kneeling on the floor between his legs, guiding the other man’s mouth to take him in further.
 
Angel stretched like a cat at Elijah’s side, one bare leg draped over his thigh. She kissed and nipped and licked Elijah’s ear while he fondled one of her heavy breasts. Hands groped. Bodies undulated in a slow, seductive dance.

The scene reeked of decadence. For a second, Tasha felt transported to another world, like a spectator watching a choreographed theatrical performance. Lightning flashed outside the open French doors of Elijah’s bedroom, illuminating the players and revealing their secrets. Immediate darkness followed. The hall light flickered and extinguished. The downstairs music stopped. The candle flames danced in hypnotic chaos.

Elijah’s eyes flew open and met hers. He didn’t blink or flinch, just stared as if daring her to speak. One corner of his mouth curled up in a smile dripping with sin. He placed both hands in the guy’s hair and gripped it tight, jerking his hips up. A low growl ripped from his throat.

“Are you watching or joining us?” Elijah asked. It took a second for Tasha to realize he was speaking to her. “There’s always room for one more, but I’m good either way.”

“Yes,” said Angel, curled around his side like an anaconda. She motioned to Tasha with a graceful hand tipped in long, blood-red fingernails like talons on a vulture. “Four is better.”
 

Apprehension and fascination warred inside Tasha. She swallowed hard. A rush of crimson heat crept up her neck and into her cheeks. The needle of her moral compass spun out of control from time to time, but this panorama far exceeded anything her mind could have concocted. Her feet remained glued to the floor. She stood in the doorway, unable to look away and unable to go.

“Ah, well…another time, maybe.” Elijah sighed and closed his eyes, dismissing her, releasing her from his hypnotic grasp.

Tasha spun on her bare feet and ran to the bedroom. She shut the door behind her, disappointed there was no lock. Rain pelted the windows with a sound like popping corn. She dove into the bed, where she curled into a ball, knees clasped to her chest as if protecting her heart, feeling like she’d narrowly escaped losing her soul.

In the morning, she found Luke asleep beside her. He lay on his side facing her, one hand on her hip, the other tucked beneath the pillow. She dropped a light kiss on the tip of his nose. She was tempted to wake him but decided to let him sleep. Instead, she took a shower before dressing and headed downstairs.

The only vestiges of the storm were scattered leaves and twigs on the patio. A few stragglers remained from the party, passed out on sofas and rugs. A bright, hot sun lit a cloudless blue sky. Still feeling unsettled from the night before, Tasha grabbed a book from the library, something light and frivolous to wash away the dirt left in her mind by Elijah’s sexcapade, and relaxed onto a lounger by the pool.
 

The heat of the sun warmed her cool skin. Normally, she would’ve worn her bikini, but today she felt too raw and too exposed to willingly bare herself. Instead, she wore a halter-top, cut-off denim shorts, and a pair of black sunglasses.

The book was good and before long, she was immersed in a fantastic tale of witches and lions and magical lands. Despite her fascination with the tale, she knew Elijah was there before he spoke.

“Good morning,” Elijah said, even though it was almost two o’clock in the afternoon. He strode onto the patio wearing only a purple silk robe cinched loosely at the waist and a devilish grin. The breeze from the lake caught the hem of the fabric. It fluttered open to reveal naked thighs corded with muscle and dusted with blond hair.
 

She pushed the bridge of her sunglasses higher up her nose, grateful he couldn’t see her eyes, and returned her gaze to the book. “If you say so,” she replied and turned the page.

He sat at the table near her feet facing her, a plate of fresh fruit in front of him. She ignored his amused stare. Silence stretched between them, broken only by the distant sound of waves lapping the shore of the lake and the twitter of playful birds in the grass.
 

“Sleep well?” he asked between mouthfuls of papaya and pineapple. He looked amazingly normal in the daylight. A small scar above his upper lip marred otherwise perfect skin, and scruffy stubble covered his square jaw.

“Nope,” she replied. “But thanks for asking.” His throaty chuckle prickled the hair on her arms. “So where are your friends?” Overwhelming curiosity made her ask, although she wasn’t sure she wanted to know the answer.

“They’re not my friends,” he replied. His eyes, which had been warm and the same color as the sky, became gray and shuttered.
 

“Well, they certainly seemed friendly enough,” she replied and read the same paragraph again while he mulled this over.
 

“They’re hookers,” he said. “I don’t like emotional entanglements. Too messy. It’s easier to pay for it. That way everyone gets what they want.”

Her strangled snort brought a burst of laughter from him. She snapped her book shut, unable to continue the pretense of reading, and studied him for a long moment. He stared back with enigmatic eyes.

“You’re, like, the most famous dude on the planet, and you can’t get laid without paying for it? There is something seriously wrong with that.”

“I didn’t pay for you, did I?” His observation stung like the lash of a whip. While she choked down the hurt, he continued. “I can get laid anytime I want. Sometimes I choose to pay for it, because, like I said, it’s cleaner that way. Everyone knows exactly what they’re getting into.” He popped the last chunk of pineapple into his mouth then dusted his hands together.
 

Even though she knew better than to continue along this topic, several questions burned in her mind. “So how, exactly, does one procure these kind of services? I’m curious.”

By the gleam in his eyes, her curiosity pleased him. He leaned toward her, elbows resting on his thighs, hands clasped between his knees. “Gabe takes care of all that. He has a few regulars under contract. They’ve all signed non-disclosures, been tested for communicable diseases, and have skills in the various areas necessary. All I have to do is send a text message, and I can have someone within the hour.”
 

She raised her eyebrows, and he smiled. “What about us?” she asked. “You. Me. Luke. What was that all about?”

“There is no you, me, and Luke. It was just a little interlude for your benefit. Luke asked me to do it, and I agreed as a birthday present to him.”
 

The coldness in his tone sent a shiver down her back and filled her with hurt. Tears stung her eyes and she blinked rapidly to keep them at bay. This was the guy she’d first met, the rock star without a conscience. She opened her book again and scanned the page for where she’d left off, the pages blurring.
 

“You remember when I said I didn’t feel sorry for you? Well, I’ve changed mind,” she said.

“Really?” He leaned forward, hooked a finger in the spine of her book, and pulled it down so he could see her face. The mischief and mayhem in his eyes sent a thrill and chill of foreboding down her spine. “And why is that?”

She set the book on her lap, pulled down her sunglasses, and met his gaze. Attraction and conflict sizzled and popped between them. He smiled, but there was no warmth in it. The loss of it saddened her. This wasn’t the guy she’d come to know. This was a stranger, and she didn’t like him.

“The whole world worships you like you’re some kind of perfect being, yet here you are, buying sex because you don’t want the mess of an emotional connection with someone.” She shook her head and picked up the book again. “That, my friend, is seriously fucked up.”