Not Until You: Part IV (5 page)

“Cela,” he said, pushing up from the counter. “Wait. Don’t leave yet. We need to talk about last night. If I freaked you out . . .”

She grabbed her keys off the edge of the counter and looked at him. “You didn’t freak me out, Foster. I freaked myself out. A few weeks ago, I was virgin. Now I’m waking up in some guy’s bed feeling like I’ve been rolled over by a truck and can’t even find my panties.”

Some guy
. The words punctured his chest like rusty nails.

“This has become too . . . intense. And I’m starting to like this,
you
, too much. You told me you want to own a woman. And as I was lying in your bed this morning, can you believe I actually found myself wondering what that would be like?” She looked heavenward. “How fucking insane is that?”

His heart leapt at the mere mention of her even entertaining that notion, but reality quickly kicked it right back down. Clearly, she wasn’t happy about that thought. And she was leaving.
Leaving
. He had to get that through his head. “Cela . . .”

She continued like he hadn’t even spoken. “Being with you has been—well, I can’t even describe it. But Foster,”—she met his eyes and put her hand to her chest—“I don’t even know who this person
is
. I’m not sure I want to know.”

Tears brimmed in her eyes, and he couldn’t stop himself from walking over to her and pulling her against him. She let him fold her into his embrace. He set his chin on the top of her head. “It’s going to be all right, angel. You’ve just been through a lot of big life changes these last few weeks. You’re still the same person you always were. I’m sorry I added shit to that mix that made you even more confused.”

She sniffed against his T-shirt. “You didn’t make me do anything. I brought this on myself.”

“Shh, you’re just going through life trying to figure stuff out like all of us are. In a week, you’re going to go back home to your family and the job you’ve worked so hard for, and things will get easier. Everything will fall into place.” The words hurt coming out, but what else could he say?
Hey,
I just met you, and this is crazy
 . . .

Shit. Now he was quoting ridiculous pop songs. This girl was making him lose his mind.

Cela pulled back and looked up at him, gaze somber. “I can’t keep doing this. It’s starting to hurt.”

He wiped a tear off her cheek. “I know, angel.”
Me too.

She nodded, resigned. “Maybe if I didn’t have to leave, but . . .”

He pressed his fingers against her mouth, unable to bear the conjecture. “No
what ifs
in life, just
what is,
right? Let’s not go there.”

She grabbed his wrist to move his hand then pushed up on her toes to brush his lips with a soft kiss. “Thanks for giving a small-town girl a walk on the wild side.”

He forced a smile, even though the words were way too reminiscent of how things had ended with Darcy. Maybe he’d always be relegated to that role in his life—the kinky guy to have fun with for a while before a woman went looking for something real. Something normal. “Hey, the pleasure was all mine.”

She smirked. “
That
is definitely not true.”

He laughed despite himself.

“I’ll make sure and stop by before I head out of town. And tell Pike if he has any more questions about Monty to call me.”

“Will do. Do you have everything you need for the move?” he asked, moving into safe conversation, topics that wouldn’t remind him that he would never touch her again.

“I still have a lot of painting to do, but I’ll get it done in time.” She was heading toward the door now.

“Let us know if you need help.”

“Thanks.” She peeked back at him and smiled, but he knew she’d never call for that help.

This was the end. And they both knew it.

He stood there staring at the door long after she’d shut it behind her.

Chapter 20

I turned up the radio as I pulled onto the highway on the way to my brother’s place, trying to chase away the depressing thoughts that were infiltrating my brain. I’d come home last night after going to a movie with Bailey to find my apartment fully painted, every corner cut, every baseboard glossed. An invoice from a local painting company had been on my kitchen counter, the charge paid for by one Ian Foster.

The gesture had both touched and frustrated me. I’d spent the last week trying to forget the way Foster had looked at me, the way he’d made me feel that night in his room, the crazy things he’d made me want. I’d almost walked next door a hundred times to try to talk to him about it—to try to figure out why I was feeling so . . . undone. But I knew the minute I saw him, it would just tear the bandage right off the wound again. No matter how electric the connection had been between us, I needed to stay away from him. I was leaving in just a few days. And he was looking for something bigger than what I could offer anyway.

That last night with him
had
scared me. Everything had been so intense, so out there. And I’d responded to it, given in like some slave girl. The more he’d pushed me, the more turned on I’d gotten. I’d wanted to please him, and probably would’ve allowed him to take me even further than he did. Plus, I got the sense he’d only shown me a glimpse anyway. I couldn’t imagine what other things lurked in that closet of his.

And the next morning, instead of being appalled at how achy and sore I was, I’d gone into the bathroom to look at my back in the mirror. When no marks were there, I’d actually felt
disappointment
. Which proved I was losing it. I was a doctor, goddammit. My whole career was focused on healing, and here I was letting some guy hurt me. And not just letting him, but enjoying it.

Yes, I needed to stay away.

Even if I couldn’t stop thinking about him.

Even if part of me was desperate to know why he made me feel this way.

My life waited for me somewhere else. My family was counting on me. I was moving. And even thinking of changing that for some guy I’d slept with a few times was ludicrous. It had to be that whole weird evolutionary chemical thing that made me want to fall for the man I’d lost my virginity to. My body was under some misguided impression that it was going to mate for life. Logically, I
knew
this.

But when Foster did things like paying for my whole apartment to get painted, he made it harder for me to keep my scientific brain in charge. So, despite knowing it was a bad idea, I’d stopped by his apartment on the way out to thank him and to tell him I was going to pay him back. I didn’t want guilt-laden gifts. He didn’t owe me anything. But only Pike had been home.

“Sorry, doc. He’s out,” Pike had told me as he leaned against the door frame. No smile. No invitation inside. The completely un-Pike-like behavior had made my stomach drop to my toes.

“Out?”

He gave a little nod.

“Like leather-pants out?” I’d asked, trying to keep my tone nonchalant even though my throat had gone Mojave dry.

His gaze had slid away, his shoulders sagging. “I’m not sure.”

“Got it,” I’d said, the words clipped. “Thanks a lot.”

I’d turned to leave. “Hey, doc.”

I’d spun back around, arms crossed in what probably looked to be anger but felt more like a desperate attempt to hold myself together.

“I know you feel something for him. I get it. But if you’re not sticking around, just let him go,” he said quietly. “People think I had it rough with what I went through as a kid, but despite his family having money, Foster had it worse. He was alone
all the time
. The people who were supposed to love him bailed when he needed them the most. He doesn’t want to be left again.”

My fingers dug into my biceps, the sadness in Pike’s voice, the picture he was painting, making me want to reach out to Foster even more. “Is that why he wants to . . . own a woman?”

The words were hard to even get across my tongue—the concept so foreign.

Pike brushed a hand over his head, the spikes springing back as soon as he swiped over them. “Maybe? There’s no doubt he’s a dominant. He’s always been a bossy fucker—at least as long as I’ve known him. But I think him wanting something so clearly defined is a way to try to control who leaves him. But of course, it’s a false sense of security. A woman can walk away at any time—vanilla relationship, slave, submissive, or anything in between. One day he’s going to have to accept that caring for someone is always going to be a risk, no matter what.”

I digested his words. “Which is why you steer clear of relationships?”

“Nah, doc, I’m just too fucked up to inflict myself on someone long term. I’m best in small doses.” He smirked, but there wasn’t much enthusiasm behind it. “And I’m not trying to scare you off Foster. I can tell something is different when he’s with you. I’ve never seen him get so . . . possessive. But I love the guy and don’t want to see him get his heart handed back to him again.”

I frowned, an unshakeable melancholy falling over me, but nodded at Pike. “You’re a good friend to him.”

He shrugged. “I’d be in a cemetery if not for him. And blood or not, he’s my family.”

I leaned over and kissed his cheek, a good-bye. “Thanks, Pike. He’s lucky to have you in his life.”

He pushed away from the doorjamb, his expression resigned. “Want me to tell him you stopped by?”

Though part of me had wanted to say yes, I’d shaken my head no and walked away. If I wasn’t going to stay, then it wasn’t fair for me to keep dragging this along. For Foster or myself. Even if I figured out some way not to leave, how could I begin to be what Foster wanted? I was intrigued by the glimpses of his dominant side I’d seen, enjoyed fantasies that went down that path. But the idea of giving that much control to anyone made my skin go clammy. I’d barely escaped from beneath my father’s thumb. How could I consider being under someone else’s?

So if Foster was at that resort place, looking for some other woman to be in that type of relationship with him, then I shouldn’t begrudge him that. He deserved to be happy, even if I wasn’t the one making him that way.

Well, at least that’s what I’d been trying to tell myself during the car ride.

But when visions of another woman touching him came to mind, completely unfounded territorial feelings rose to the surface, darkening my mood. For someone who was supposedly looking for something real, Foster certainly was going about it an interesting way. I didn’t know a lot about his lifestyle, but looking for Mrs. Right at a sex resort didn’t sound so romantic. And if he’d really felt anything toward me like he’d implied the other night, he’d gotten over it mighty fast.

I merged into traffic, gripping the steering wheel a bit too hard and cursing the ballad that was playing on the radio.
Stupid frigging song
. But before my thoughts could careen further down the destructive path they were on, the notes of my phone’s ringtone filtered through the music. I lowered my radio and hit the Speaker button on the phone. “Hello?”

“Marcela,” my dad said, his heavy accent making my name sound so much more exotic. “I finally caught you. I’ve been trying to call.”

“Hey, Papá,” I said, trying to muster up an apologetic tone through my clenched teeth. “Sorry, I’ve been busy getting ready for the move.”
And having threesomes. And getting chained to doors. And maybe falling for some guy who likes to torture women for kicks.

“You make me worry, Cela. I had to call your brother to make sure he’d heard from you.”

I sighed. “I’m sorry, but you shouldn’t worry so much. I’m not nine. I can survive a few days without being checked on.”

“Don’t be smart,” he said, using that father tone that used to make me want to hide in my room. “But never mind, it won’t matter soon. You’ll be home. We have the house all ready for you. I’ll be able to see your car from across the street and will sleep easy knowing you’re safe.”

“Wait, what?” My stomach did a nauseous roll as I tried not to look down at my phone in horror.

“Your
tía
was only renting that house from me. I told you that. She wanted to move closer into town, so we’re going to let you stay there. Think of all the money you’ll save. You’ll only have to cover the utilities. You can start your retirement fund early.”

“You want me to live across the street?” I asked, unable to keep the
what the hell?
out of my tone. “I’ve already put a deposit down on an apartment.”

“Now, Marcela, don’t be ungrateful. And it’s just a deposit. Let them have it. You’re going to be working at the clinic with me, so you might as well be close by. We can even save gas and ride together. And believe me, I can’t wait to have your help. I’ve had to hire an extra tech just to handle the patient load. And your mamá is buzzing around like she’s got a bee up her dress. She’ll be so happy to have you back.”

Cars whizzed by me on each side as the world seemed to slow inside my car. My father continued to ramble on, and a movie of my life started to play in my head. I’d known I was going back and would be around my family again, but the picture my father was painting was like a thick, itchy blanket covering me. Smothering.

“Papá, I don’t think living so close is a good idea. I need my space.”

“Space? You’ll have a whole house to yourself,” he said, then muttered something in Spanish, which meant he was getting annoyed. “You know how many children would love to have their family pay for their mortgage? We want to take care of you, Cela.”

I breathed in through my nose, trying to stay focused on the road and not letting myself completely lose my shit in the car. I loved my father, but the urge to scream, shout, and curse at him was pounding through me. I’d thought with the last few years of my being gone, my parents would’ve loosened their grip a little bit. But it sounded like they’d only been lying in wait until I came home to resume their control over my life.

I pulled at my necklace, the jewelry suddenly too snug.

“I have to go. We can talk about this later,” I said in a rush, my instincts going into cornered-rabbit mode. “I’m visiting Andre tonight and I don’t want to be late.”

My father grunted. “Fine. But we’re not done with this conversation. And tell your brother to call me. I want him to ride down with you when you come home. It’s been far too long since he’s visited his family.”

I wanted to ask him if I should invite Luz, too. My older sister only lived a town over from my parents. But I knew what my dad’s answer would be. Forgiveness was one gift my father never granted. Being cut out of the family was a permanent condition. My sister’s name wasn’t even spoken anymore.

And as I pulled in front of Andre’s building, I wondered what my father would do if he knew what I’d done with Foster and Pike . . . or if I refused to live in the house he’d offered me, changed the blueprint of my life.

Would I be discarded, too?

With a deep sigh, I grabbed the small gift I’d bought for Jace’s brother, Wyatt, and climbed out of the car. By the time I made my way to the loft on the third floor, I was praying this party had alcohol, because I had a feeling a nervous breakdown was waiting in the wings for me otherwise. One more crappy thing tonight, and I was going to lose it.

I knocked on the door, and it swung open a minute later, the space filling with the imposing force that was Jace Austin. Andre’s roommate grinned wide, his green eyes lit with the kind of jovial ease I longed for. “Well, if it isn’t the prettier Medina.”

The man was downright contagious. I couldn’t help but smile back as he swallowed me with a bear hug. “Hey, Jace. Depressed as usual I see.”

He laughed and stepped back. “You know it.”

I walked in and set the gift on the entryway table while Jace closed the door behind me. The loft space was already echoing with conversation, Andre sitting on one of the couches and chatting with Wyatt. I had only met Wyatt once before, but I remembered him being the exact opposite of what I’d expected him to be.

I’d anticipated an older version of Jace, but he couldn’t have been more different. Where Jace was laid-back and quick with a joke, Wyatt had seemed quiet and intense—intimidating. I’d heard Jace call him genius, and I suspected that was more than a playful nickname. It was no secret that he was second in command at his father’s financial company and was freaking loaded. But it was obvious his knowledge extended beyond his field. When he’d gotten into a discussion with me about animal testing, his opinions and astute observations had made me wonder if he’d gotten a medical degree on the side. But when I’d joked about as much, he’d shrugged and said he liked to read medical journals in his free time.

“Hey there, little sis,” Andre said, raising his beer in acknowledgement. “Welcome.”

Wyatt turned and greeted me as well, his smile restrained but genuine.

“Drinks are in the kitchen,” Andre offered.

“You read my mind.”

I headed toward the kitchen and found Jace’s girlfriend, Evan, berating something in the oven. “Twenty minutes, my ass.”

I grinned. “I don’t think insulting the food makes it cook faster.”

Evan turned toward me, the frustration melting from her pretty face. “Hey, you. Long time, no see.”

She came over and gave me a quick hug, leaving flour marks on my black blouse.

“Oh, hell,” she said, trying to brush it off for me. “I shouldn’t be trusted with baking. I can cook a meal, but let me near anything having to do with cake, and I’m as skilled as a five-year-old with an Easy-Bake Oven.”

I waved her off, the flour coming off easily. “Everything smells great. So that counts for something, right? Anything I can do to help?”

Evan pushed her dark bangs up her forehead, looking like some fifties throwback with her frilly polka-dot apron. “Grab a beer and relax. I got this. Mostly.”

“All right, but yell if you need me. I have no baking skills either, but I know how to put out a fire.”

She laughed. “Duly noted.”

I made my way back to the living area, but all the guys had moved out to the balcony. I snaked through the arrangement of couches and chairs toward the large sliding glass door that led outside and pushed it open. The sound of conversation abruptly halted with my entrance. The men looked up liked they’d been caught looking at girlie magazines. I hesitated. “Uh, sorry. Am I interrupting some secret boys-only meeting?”