Seth (Damage Control #3) (22 page)

***

At first, I think I’ve made a mistake insisting we come here. As we walk around, he doesn’t react at the animals we see, his expression closed off, locked down.

The lions and tigers don’t seem to impress him, or even the funny prairie dogs and lemurs. Leaning on his walking stick, he splays one hand on the chain-link fence, gripping the wire, saying nothing.

Not sure what to do, I tug on his arm. There’s the arctic passage, newly reopened. Haven’t been there since it was redone. Time to go see the seals and polar bears. Maybe that will cheer him up.

Kids are running everywhere, squealing in delight, haggard parents running after them. Seth is watching them from the corner of his eye, hands shoved in his pockets, shoulders slightly hunched.

Crap.
I try to see this place through his eyes—a kid who hasn’t had a real childhood, carefree and fun like I did, and wince. It has to look so unfair to him, seeing these children having a blast.

But he never struck me as a bitter person. So maybe I’m all wrong again and this isn’t what he’s thinking. He doesn’t bitch and moan about his life, and I respect his strength.

So what’s on his mind?

We walk indoors, the thumps of his stick echoing, to see the bears and seals frolic, submerged in water, behind thick panes of glass. A baby seal does a whole funny little dance for us underwater, flippers waving.

Seth stands stone-still, eyes wide. Good or bad sign? Not sure, but I tug on his elbow, and he grudgingly takes a step closer to the glass.

The seal flips over, somersaulting in the water, as if putting on a private show for us, and I giggle, unable to help myself. It’s such a cute little thing.

He shifts, takes his other hand out of his pocket, reaches for the seal. He swallows hard. His hand lands on the glass and he bends closer as the seal twists and wiggles.

Then he pulls back, turns around and heads out.

Whoa.

I run after him, and jeez, even with a limp he’s so much faster than me. Remorse hits me as I catch up with him outside. He’s leaning against a tree, head tilted back, his stick lying in the grass. His knee must be bothering him and I made him walk a lot today.

“Why don’t we go sit for a while?” I gesture in the direction of a bench I can see. “Then we could—”

“I’m leaving.” He works his jaw, won’t meet my gaze. “Don’t care about the stupid animals. Fuck them.”

I gape at him, heat pouring through my chest. Anger warms me up better than any coat. “Fine. I’ll drive you back.”

“I’ll take the bus.” He pushes off the tree, wincing as he straightens. “I’ll be fine.”

“I’m sure you’ll be.” I fold my arms over my breasts, willing the hot tears in my eyes not to fall. “My fault for bringing you here, where you obviously don’t want to be.”

His mouth tightens. He ducks his head. “I can’t stay, Manon. Sorry.”

“What for? I wanted you to have fun, but since the stupid animals bore you, then by all means, go.”

I expect him to do precisely that, but he doesn’t move.

“Dammit,” he whispers. A small vein ticks in his jaw, and his eyes seem very bright over his flushed cheekbones. “I always fuck everything up.”

“That’s not true,” I breathe, some of my anger leaving me. I really have no clue what’s the matter with him, but I have a feeling he’s trying to work something out. I wish I knew what it is.

“It is true.”

“Look, it’s okay if you don’t want to stay. Then again…” I turn, point at a sign. “The snakes are right there, at the end of this path. You could have a look before you go.”

He follows the direction my finger is pointing. He licks his lips. His hands clench and unclench at his sides.

It takes an eternity before he nods, a tight dip of his chin, and holds out a hand for me.

Okay.
I let out a breath and slip my hand against his palm, bend down to retrieve his stick and put it in his other hand.

Let’s see where this takes us.

First it takes us to the snakes, of course. The Herpetarium. It’s warm inside the dimly-lit space with its glass cases, and I tighten my hold on Seth’s hand.

“Afraid?” he whispers, and I jump.

“No, of course not,” I scoff, then step closer to him, biting my lip. “Okay, maybe just a tiny bit?”

“Of snakes?”

“Yeah.”

“Why didn’t you say so before?”

“Because even though I’m scared, I want to see the snakes. They’re beautiful, and move like dancers.”

He chuckles low, and I smile, despite our fight. Which wasn’t really a fight. Shaking my head, I walk with him along the cases.

He stops in front of the boa constrictor and lets go of me, turning his full attention on the animal. It’s huge, half-curled around a branch, its skin light brown with dark diamond patterns. Its forked tongue flicks out.

I shiver.

Seth presses a hand to the glass, and I jerk a little, an abortive attempt to pull him away from danger.

There’s no danger, I tell myself. The animals are inside cages and boxes.

He keeps doing that, putting his hands as close to the animals as possible. Thank God for barriers. I’m not sure he wouldn’t have tried it without the glass between him and the snake.

“Fuck me…” he mutters, and the awe in his voice is worth the uncertainty and panic. “This thing’s badass.”

“Yeah, it’s big,” I say, my voice small.

“They eat rodents and birds, and they give birth to babies, not eggs.” He taps his fingertips on the glass and the boa stares at him with a beady eye. “They’re so strong. They just grab their prey and wrap around it until it dies.”

“Jesus. Right.” I know all this, so why am I shivering again?

He glances at me and frowns. He pulls me against his side, slings a heavy arm over my shoulders. “You okay?”

I wrap my arm around his slim hips and smile up at him. “Why do you like the boas so much?”

He shrugs. “I… I wanted to be a herpetologist. I just love snakes, they’re so strong. Ancient creatures. Survivors. I wanted to study them. Christ, I just wanted… Fuck.” He pulls away from me, turns his back, draws an uneven breath.

And then another, and another, a tremor going through his shoulders.

“Seth?”

Jesus, what have I done?

He shakes his head, starts for the exit, and I hurry after him, grabbing his hand. He doesn’t let go, or push me away, and we walk out into the watery sunlight. He keeps going, stumbling, until we reach the relative privacy of a tree shade.

He releases my hand and turns away, leaning on his stick. “Gimme a minute.”

“What happened?” My heart’s in my throat. “What can I do?”

“Nothing. Fuck, I didn’t want to remember.”

“Remember what?” I walk around him until I face him again. “Remember what, Seth?”

Christ, his cheeks are wet. He’s just standing there, clutching his stick, tears tracking down his face, and it’s as if he can’t feel them.

“Remember everything I used to want,” he breathes. “All I can’t have.”

When I wrap my arms around him, he doesn’t resist. His stick clatters to the ground, and he does nothing for a long while, letting me hold him.

“Didn’t mean to hurt you,” I whisper against his shoulder, close to crying myself. “Only wanted to make you happy.”

“I’m fine,” he says, although his voice catches. He finally lifts his arms and hugs me back. “I promise, I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not.” I cling to him. “My fault.”

“Manon,” he whispers my name, low and soft, like a prayer. Then he draws back and kisses me—salty with sorrow and sweet. Sweet and filled with a promise I can’t decipher.

***

A light drizzle has begun. The sky is weeping.

I keep stealing glances at him as we make our way through the park, heading to the exit. My lips tingle from his kiss—hard and hot and all too brief. He says he’s fine, but the tears drying on his face and the pain in his voice when he told me why tell another story.

What a disaster.

Stop it
, I tell myself. Okay, so I can’t quite tell if my idea of coming to the zoo was a fiasco or not. Can’t tell if his tears were only sad, or also happy. But in any case, I broke through some barrier he’d erected around him. Learned more about him in a couple of hours than I had in the past weeks.

Not that he likes snakes, or that he wanted to be a herpetologist. Not only that. He
feels
and keeps the emotions trapped inside. He has dreams, but he’s buried them deep. I don’t think he’s the kind of person to bare himself to others. He hides. Tries to be strong, but he’s cracked inside.

What the wound was… I can guess from the things he told me: his junkie mother and her abusive boyfriends. Stealing to survive when he was little. Having a brief stint at happiness with his cousin’s family, and then losing that, too. Thinking his mother was dead, when in fact she’d abandoned him.

That’s enough to break even the strongest.

His childhood was so different to mine, maybe I should be running the other way. How could he understand me, and how could I understand him when our backgrounds have no middle ground?

And yet… I’ve never felt as comfortable in my skin as I have with him. So
happy
.

The thought sends a shiver through me.

It’s the cold, I tell myself, because meanwhile the drizzle has turned into rain. Somewhere above, thunder booms and the wind picks up.

The clouds burst open, pouring a sea of ice-cold water down on us.

“Shit,” Seth mutters and grabs my hand. Half-limping, half-running, he leads me out of the zoo, past the parked cars, searching for mine. “Where the fuck are we parked?”

People are overtaking us, running, unprepared for the sudden storm. The spatter of the rain drowns out other sounds, so they seem like ghosts, fleeing past.

“There!” I point out my blue Kia Rio through the downpour, and we hurry that way. Cold water is running through my collar down my back and front, soaking my dress. “Quick.”

I press the electronic key to unlock the doors, and we scramble inside. Jeez, it’s cold! The temperature must have suddenly dropped ten degrees.

The rain closes around the car, a solid wall, trapping us inside. I turn on the ignition and start the heater. Rubbing my hands together, I look over at Seth. He’s struggling to get rid of his drenched jacket. He manages after a moment, and throws it at his feet with a low curse.

I forget myself staring. With his dark hair plastered to his temples, long lashes wet, the T-shirt stuck to his body, he should look like a drowned rat.

Except he looks good. Crap, he doesn’t just look good, he looks frigging hot. My lower lip catches between my teeth as I observe a shiny droplet trickle down his neck, disappearing into his white T-shirt. A T-shirt that’s gone transparent, molding to every hard ridge and plane of his chest and shoulders, outlining his firm pecs, his taut abs.

Then he grabs the hem and pulls that one off as well, and my brain self-combusts.

Mayday. Hot, shirtless guy in my car.

Takes me a while to realize he’s staring right back at me.

“You should take off that coat,” he says, his voice flowing over my skin like rough velvet. “Need help?”

Snapping out of my daze, I manage to twist in my seat until I can shrug the coat off. I throw it on the back seat, and I can feel his eyes on me, a line of heat.

I turn toward him, start to ask if he’s okay, to say again I’m sorry, but the words stick in my mouth.

He’s undoing his pants. The top button on his jeans pops open, and he unzips his fly slowly.
Click, click, click.

“What…?” I have to stop and swallow, my mouth dry. “What are you doing?”

“It’s wet. Taking it off. You should do the same.”

“Taking… We’re in the middle of a parking lot. Outside the zoo.”

“In a storm. Lots of rain. Nobody can look inside.”

“But I could just—”

He slips a hand behind my neck, pulls me to him and licks my mouth. “You could just take off your panties and climb on top of me. We could warm each other up until the storm is over. Told you that’s what I’d do with you on a Sunday morning. Or did you think I was joking?”

He sounds serious. His words, his taste, his touch is intoxicating. When he deepens the kiss, I moan. When he reaches with his other hand between my legs, I gasp. He tugs on my panties, sliding them down my legs until they pool at my ankles. I slip my feet free.

With one last lick at my lips, he leans back and gives me a crooked grin. “You should never wear panties. If I was your boyfriend, I’d hide all your underwear so that I can touch your pussy whenever I want, stroke you, make you come.”

I’m panting, clenching so hard deep inside I think I’ll come just like that, from his words, the intensity of his gaze. He tugs on my arm, and I climb over him, tucking my knees at his sides.

“Oh God, at last,” he breathes, his gaze going heavy-lidded and darker than the storm clouds outside. “So beautiful. Need you.”

Need you, too
, I think, dazed at how much I want him. The windows are fogged over, and the rain pounds on the roof of the car like a drum. It matches the frenzied beat of my heart.

His brown nipples are bunched up, tight little peaks. I tease them with my fingers. He grabs my hands, kisses the palms, slides them down his chest to the thin dark trail leading to the bulge in his briefs.

My breath quickens. I palm his erection through the cloth and he hisses. Under my hand, he swells more, the tip of his cock pushing under the elastic.

I pull his cock out.

He gasps loudly as it springs free, thick and long and flushed—
so sexy
—and I clench painfully between my legs. His broad chest rises and falls on a deep breath, and he moves my hand up, to press down on his cock. His face contorts—pleasure, so sharp it hurts—and his cock jerks under my fingers, growing hard as steel.

“My turn,” he mutters, and before I know what he’s talking about, before my brain catches up, he tugs the straps of my dress down and puts his hands on my breasts. He buries his face against them, kissing them, then mouths my nipples, sucking and teasing until I’m breathing hard, aching for him to fill me.