Poser (4 page)

The running water in the shower across the hall caught my attention, and I smiled.

I threw on a pair of basketball shorts before heading toward the door. I was momentarily distracted from my destination when a ball of fluff came racing down the hallway toward me.

I grunted and looked down at the rat.

Her light-colored ear hair was all over the place and sticking out wildly, her entire butt was wiggling with the force of her tail wagging, and her dark eyes were intent on me.

“Hey, Gizmo,” I called, using the nickname I’d given her, which drove Ivy nuts.

Giz put her two front paws up on my leg and wagged her butt some more. I laughed and scooped her up to scratch behind her ears.

“Good looking out this morning,” I told her as I scratched. “Giving me some alone time with my girl.”

She licked me.

“Dog breath,” I muttered and set her back down on the floor. She raced off into the bedroom, no doubt toward the mountain of toys Ivy bought her.

I let myself in the bathroom and turned the lock silently. I could see Ivy moving around behind the curtain, and I shucked my shorts and tossed them on the floor.

The air in here was moist, almost humid, and the mirror was already fogging up. She was humming to herself. I went to the edge of the shower and slid the curtain back barely enough for me to step in.

She had her face under the spray, and ribbons of water cascaded down over her shoulders and back.

She was just way too sexy not to touch.

I reached out and grabbed her by the waist, meaning to tow her back against me.

But she never made it.

Ivy’s body went rigid so fast it was almost like her body spasmed. A low shriek vibrated her throat, and she lurched forward.

“No!” The protest was almost a moan, the fear in her voice real.

I jerked back immediately, letting go. I must have been too rough. I must have hurt her.

I started to apologize, but the words died in my throat because the force in which she pulled away and the fact she was soapy and standing in water wasn’t a good combination.

Ivy slipped forward, plunging toward the shower wall and the large silver knob that jutted out.

“Whoa,” I gasped and quickly recovered the space between us. I caught her just before she fell and would likely smack her head on the knob.

Her body went rigid again, but I didn’t let go this time. This time I was ready for her. I pulled her back, bringing her body up against mine, and stepped so we were out of the spray.

I could feel her trembling in my arms, and it scared me.

“Easy now,” I said in her ear. “You’re okay. I’m not gonna hurt you.”

“Braeden.” She said my name on a relieved sigh and went boneless against me.

“Right here, baby,” I whispered. “I’m right here.”

She turned, pressing herself as close to me as she could get, and when I didn’t tighten my arms (for fear I’d freak her out again), she whimpered. “Tighter.”

I tucked her as close against me as possible. She buried her face in my chest, and another shiver worked its way down her spine.

I stared at the falling water over her head, right through it and at the wall.

Concern, alarm, and anger warred within me.

I wasn’t exactly sure what the fuck just happened.

But I was pretty sure all those distractions I’d just been thinking about were long gone.

I was pretty sure this wasn’t just a case of her being startled.

No.

It was much, much more.

Ivy

I didn’t hear him.

I didn’t think.

I just reacted.

People get scared every day. Things happen to startle everyone. But even those with the most focused concentration don’t ever react that way.

Violently.

Almost like they’re being attacked.

There was something wrong with that reaction.

With
my
reaction.

It threw me, and I stood there pressing myself as close to Braeden as I possibly could until the feeling of sheer panic went down the drain with the water.

I pulled back enough to apologize. He probably thought I was certifiable. Yet when our eyes met, he wasn’t freaked out. He seemed almost scared. It wasn’t a look Braeden often wore. It threw me off balance even more.

He cupped my cheek, and without thinking, I turned my face into his palm.

“Did I hurt you?”

“No,” I replied immediately. Braeden was gentle when he touched me, and just then had been no different. “I—” I glanced away and then back. “I don’t know why I acted like that.”

His brown eyes studied me, like he was trying to see everything I wasn’t saying. But there was nothing to see because I honestly couldn’t understand why I acted that way. It was like my body went into flight mode and only wanted to get away.

Only there wasn’t anything to get away from.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered, confusion and a little despair in my tone.

Both his hands took my face and held me firm so he could stare at me intently. “You didn’t do anything wrong. You don’t need to apologize.”

Goose bumps rose across my skin. Standing here out of the spray of warm water was making me cold.

Braeden turned us and stepped back so he was far enough under the water to warm us both, but his broad shoulders kept it out of my eyes.

“I should have told you I was in here,” he muttered, almost like he was scolding himself. He ran a hand across my shoulder and down my arm. “I’ll get out and let you finish.”

“No.” I protested, feeling a little steadier. I wasn’t going to let some freak reaction ruin his first day back from training. “I need someone to wash my back.”

“You sure?” His eyes searched mine.

I stretched up and kissed him. “I want you to stay.” I reached around and grabbed the white loofah I used with my body wash and held it out.

We took turns washing each other. He seemed a little more withdrawn than usual, and it made me worry. But once it was my turn with the loofah, my touch seemed to relax him, so I took my time and made sure my hands were extra bold.

By the time I was done, he was back to his normal alpha male self. I wrapped my legs around his waist when he picked me up and pushed my back into the shower wall. Before descending upon my mouth, he hesitated. “This okay?”

My heart squeezed at his genuine concern. “Anytime you touch me is okay,” I whispered.

We made out until the water turned cold, but he never tried for more. He seemed content just to explore the inside of my mouth with his tongue and make me squirm against him.

When the water was off, he wrapped a towel around me before himself and rubbed my shoulders vigorously to get me warm. He didn’t dry himself until after he’d lifted me out of the shower and stood me on the fluffy rug I’d bought for the floor.

Once he was dry, he pulled on his shorts and then watched with hooded eyes and I blow-dried my hair. It was gonna have to be a braid or something kind of day because I didn’t feel like going to all the trouble straightening or curling it.

Once it was dry and I applied lotion to my face, I reached for my clothes, but B beat me to it. The attentive way he helped me dress bruised my heart in some weird way. His tenderness was almost unnerving.

“Are you okay?” I asked.

He paused and glanced up. “I’m straight.”

I rolled my eyes. Lord, he was talking in bro code. “I’m a girl.”

His smile flashed. “I’m well aware.” To punctuate his sentence, he grabbed my boob.

He was so stupid I smiled. “What the hell does ‘I’m straight’ mean?”

Braeden stepped closer and slid his palm along my waist, caressing the dark-green silk halter-top I wore. “It means everything’s all good.”

“I’m sorry I freaked in the shower. I guess you just scared me.” It seemed like a dumb explanation, but it was the only one I had.

“Are you still having nightmares, Ivy?” His tone was a little grim.

I glanced away. What did that have to do with anything? “I don’t know if I’d call them nightmares,” I hedged. Of course, the dreams were about Zach and the horrible mistake I made of sleeping with him, and any dream about Zach could be considered a nightmare.

“Ivy,” he growled, a note of warning in his tone.

This was clearly something that bothered him, so I fessed up. “Sometimes.”

I pulled back and picked up the white shorts I matched up with my top and slipped them on. They were super cute, made of loose material with extra white fabric around the waist that tied into a big white bow. I concentrated extra hard on tying that bow instead of the way Braeden crossed his arms over his chest and stared intently.

“If you ever need to talk about it, I’m here,” he said.

A laugh bubbled out of my throat. Right. Like I was going to talk to him about the guy he hated and that one time I had sex with him.

But he wouldn’t be deterred. Gently, he grasped my wrist and pulled me away from the mirror. “I mean it, Ivy. You can talk to me. Even about this.”

I nodded. “I’m fine, honestly. They’re just dreams. It’s probably just karma making sure I get what’s mine because I was so stupid and slept with him.”

“You’re not stupid,” he said, harsh, and paced away. He couldn’t go very far because the bathroom wasn’t that big. When he turned back, emotion burned behind his eyes. “I hate that you beat yourself up over this.”

I didn’t say anything because I did regret it, and nothing was going to change that.

He reached out and fingered the necklace around my neck. “I love you, Blondie.”

Why did it seem like he was trying to say a lot more than just those three words?

“I love you too.”

The air in here was thick, so I opened the door to let in some fresh. “Go get dressed. I’m starving.”

I heard him in the bedroom, talking to Prada, as I styled my hair in a messy bun on top of my head. The entire time, I couldn’t stop thinking about what happened in the shower and just now when he asked me about my dreams.

Why did it feel like he thought the two were connected?

What was I missing?

Braeden

Her body remembered.

It remembered exactly what her mind wanted to forget.

It made perfect sense now. The dreams, the weight I sometimes noticed on her shoulders, and just now in the shower… Her body knew exactly what happened.

The mind and body were connected in ways we would never understand. So even if Ivy’s brain didn’t know why it was reacting, the body told it to anyway.

Did I make the wrong decision? Should I have told Ivy about the pictures I found, about the proof of her being sexually assaulted?

I felt like I was being shown two roads to travel, but neither of them led to my destination. I was damned if I did, damned if I didn’t.

Maybe it seemed exaggerated now because I’d been gone. Maybe all the changes of her moving into this house, getting a job, and me leaving were just a lot to deal with all at once. Now that I was back, I could be around more. I could make sure she felt safe. Maybe things would calm down.

School would be starting back up, we would all fall into a routine, and her body’s memories would fade. The fight or flight response surely would too.

Right?

God, I fucking hoped so.

I couldn’t stand to watch it. To see her body react and her eyes fill with jumbled emotion, then guilt. She thought her torment was punishment for having sex with that dirt bag.

I’d never in my life hated someone as much as I did Zach.

And that was saying something, because I was such a hothead. I didn’t even hate my father the way I hated Zach.

Hate was a dangerous emotion. It could drive a man to do things he might not ordinarily do.

But love was just the same.

This was the reason, up until now, I kept women in a neat little box wrapped up in a
just for fun
bow. Deep down inside was this place, a place I always sensed was there. I hid it behind a smile and sarcasm. I posed as a guy who didn’t have what I did inside.

Darkness.

A place where anger lived but so did fear. Fear and anger made a deadly cocktail.

My love for Ivy was so strong it had the ability to unleash that darkness.

So did my hate for the one who hurt her.

Ivy was still fussing with her hair and face when I was done throwing on a T-shirt and tan cargo shorts. Why women fussed so much over themselves I would never understand. Ivy was fucking gorgeous the second she rolled out of my bed in the morning. She didn’t need to make such an effort.

But Ivy didn’t see herself the way I did, the way most other people did. She thought she needed to do all that to make herself look better. I could tell her it wasn’t necessary until I was blue in the face. Still, it wouldn’t matter. The thing I learned was putting herself together was something she needed to do, if only for herself. Makeup and shit was sort of like her happy place, like football was mine. I wasn’t gonna bitch or argue about it. I’d love her no matter what.

I stopped in the bathroom doorway and admired the way her silky green top rode up on her midsection, exposing a smooth patch of skin as she fussed with her hair. “I swear to God, woman, you take longer in here than it took all the founding fathers to create the Declaration of Independence.”

Just ‘cause I wasn’t gonna argue over her hobby didn’t mean I wouldn’t tease her about it.

She shuddered. “Ew. Did you see those men’s hair? If I were making history, I wouldn’t have looked like that.”

I snickered and crossed my arms over my chest and leaned in the doorway. “I bet they were studs back in the day.”

She lowered her arms, shirt falling back into place. So I admired her round ass instead.

She made a rude sound and turned from the mirror. “If they were studs, then the women back then had no standards.” I liked the way her nose wrinkled with distaste and the way her eyes took on a shade of green to match her top.

“You look hot,” I told her.

She rolled her eyes, but I knew she liked the compliment. Girls like compliments.

“Such a way with words,” she mused.

I caught her around the waist and pulled her into the doorway with me. I leaned back and spread my legs, bringing her up against me. “I told ya I’m not good with words.”

“The way you kiss makes up for it.” She leaned in, but I turned my face.

“Is that all I am to you?” I joked. “A piece of man candy?”

She licked me.

Took that wicked tongue of hers and slid it right up the side of my face.

“Man candy? No. Sour Patch Kid? Totally.”

I wiped my face with the back of my hand. “Have I ever told you what a good kisser you are?” I deadpanned. “The best.”

“I have been told that before…” she mused.

I lunged at her, catching her around the waist and turning us so she was against the doorframe and I was in front. I moved fast, lightly digging my fingers into her sides, getting all the spots I knew would make her squirm.

“Stop!” she shrieked and jerked, trying to avoid my tickling. “Braeden James, stop it!”

“Ooh, someone means business.”

She laughed and collapsed against the doorframe. Prada came racing out into the hallway and started barking at us. When Ivy kept laughing and screeching, Prada jumped on my leg like she was going to attack me and save her favorite girl.

I relented and pulled back slightly. Ivy’s cheeks were pink from the commotion and her top was slightly askew.

Prada chewed at the end of my shorts and pulled. Ivy laughed and scooped her up. “Good girl,” she crooned.

“That vicious thing tried to attack me, and you tell her she’s a good girl?”

Ivy pushed out of the doorframe, carrying the dog. “Oh, you poor thing. You could have been seriously hurt.” She stuck her lip out in a pout but slapped me in the midsection as she moved past. “Man up, Nancy.”

I grinned and swung around to follow her. “If I were a woman, my name would not be Nancy. I need something with some sass.”

Ivy turned and glanced at me over her shoulder as she walked, her eyes amused. “This is quite an interesting conversation, but I need coffee.” All her attention moved toward the fluff ball in her arms. “And this little princess needs some breakfast.”

The entire way downstairs, I admired the view of her behind. What happened in the shower was seemingly forgotten. There was no trace of it in her eyes just now.

But I knew better. I knew it was possible to hide stuff way down deep.

I did it all the time.

I had a feeling Ivy did too.