Winter's Path: (A Seasmoke Friends Novel) (17 page)

“I just left her there.”

He’d said the same thing to me two years ago on the beach when he’d broken down. Said it over and over again. “Did you love her?”

“No. Lust, yes. Not love.” He sipped his wine, his hand shaking. “It was stupid of me to try to fix her. She didn’t want my help. More stupid that I got involved with her in the first place.” A wrinkle formed between his brows as his gaze drifted again. “The next morning, I found out she’d drown. High as a kite, barely able to stand, and I left her alone on the beach. She stood no chance of staying afloat in the ocean in her state.”

Oh God.
God, God, God
.

No wonder. No wonder he’d freaked out and had chosen to be celibate. To him, her death was his fault, and that was directly tied to sex in his mind. Matt had such a deep, ingrained respect for women and a white knight syndrome to the nth degree. Guilt. Blame. Loathing. That’s the result of stepping outside the box, the kind of guy he was—selfless, kind, compassionate. He’d spent the past two years punishing himself.

“Matt, she was an addict long before you met. You tried. You called a taxi after she refused your help.” Setting the wine aside, I crawled across the couch and cupped his jaw. “What happened to her wasn’t your fault. You’d never do anything to hurt anyone.”

He swallowed, the look in his eyes begging for forgiveness. “I didn’t just hurt her. I’m responsible for her death.”

Tears formed in my eyes before I could get a grip. “Am I responsible for my mom’s overdose?”

“What?” His eyes rounded. “No, of course not.”

“Even though I went to school, knowing she was high?” And had come home to find the eggs I’d made her still on the counter, Mama on the bathroom floor, lips blue and a needle in her stiff arm.

“Jenny, you were just a kid.”

“Yes. And you’re just a man.” I gave him a shake for emphasis. “A good man, but just a man. Cara was at the bottom of the bell jar. She would’ve wound up where she is now whether you’d met her or not. She was the only person who could’ve helped herself climb out, and she wasn’t willing. That’s not on you.”

The tenderness looking back at me stripped me bare. Gently, he tucked a strand of hair behind my ear, gaze roaming my face. His posture deflated. “I hear you. Believing is another matter.” His forehead dropped to mine. “Darlin’, I want you. I do. I want you. But you make me feel too damn much, and I can’t lose sight of myself again. I—“

The power cut out, dimming the room and leaving his features in only the glow from the fireplace. Shadows cut across the planes of his face as he pulled away from me and rose. He glanced around as if trying to familiarize himself with his surroundings.

“Matt—“

“I’ll go start the generator, get the flashlights, and...” He shook his head and strode away.

I wiped tears from my cheeks with the back of my hand, trying to regulate my breathing. I stared into the fire, the flames and embers blending. Blurring.

He was rejecting me before we could even start something. Because I made him feel? Or, really, because I wasn’t at all what he was seeking. That was the truth right there. I wasn’t quiet, blonde, and let’s face it—not relationship material. To him, I was just a painful reminder of the girl he couldn’t save. Reduced to a physical temptation he needed to resist.

I clutched my chest, closing my eyes.

The quiet hum of the refrigerator whirred as the generator kicked in. Matt’s footsteps sounded behind me. He paused, and I could feel his gaze on the back of my head. I didn’t turn, and he didn’t come around to face me. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught him carefully setting down a flashlight and a candle on the end table, his forearm so close I could smell his warm skin.

He cleared his throat. “I’m going to head upstairs. There’s more flashlights in the kitchen if you need them.”

Closing my eyes again, I held my breath, but the creak of the stairs was the end note to this song from hell. I was so damn stupid. This was where hoping got me, where it had always landed me. Alone, in the dark, with a hollow chest and wet eyes.

It was early yet, and the thought of going upstairs to the bedroom right across from his was not a pleasant one. I snatched a blanket off the back of the sofa, draped it over me, and lost myself in the flames again. Time slipped by, seconds blending to minutes, and I recanted our conversation to torture myself.

Curious, I pulled my cell from my pocket and activated a search engine. Plugging in Cara’s name and the date she died, I waited for results to pop up. It was slow-going with the storm, but eventually several news articles emerged. I clicked one that had a photo, read through the article, and went back to her picture.

She had been pretty in a bad girl way. In the photo, she stood with her hands on her hips, head cocked, wearing a white tank top. A sleeve of tats covered both arms, her black hair was pixie short, and piercings winked from her nose and ears. Her skin was fair and she had a thin, fragile frame.

The longer I studied the picture, the more things started to click into place. Ideas and theories shoved around in my head until my hands shook. Was it possible he...? Rubbing my forehead, I attempted to talk myself out of the conclusion I’d drawn, but hell. I was almost certain I was right. Knowing him, dissecting his actions and responses as of late, I knew.

Phone in hand, I made my way upstairs and knocked on his bedroom door. There was a lengthy pause before he muttered, “Come in.”

Stomach fluttering, I turned the knob and stepped inside. He stood with his back to me, facing the patio doors. He’d pulled the drapes just enough to catch a sliver of the storm raging on the other side. A candle was lit on the nightstand, but it offered little illumination. Back tense, legs apart, he remained where he was, still dressed in jeans and a tee.

He’d told me earlier I had courage, but it was failing me now. If I didn’t take action, we’d never get anywhere. Squaring my shoulders, I walked a few steps closer. “I want you to look at something.”

He turned his head, eyeing the phone in my hand, then me. “Did they change the weather report?”

“No.” I forced a swallow. “Please, just look.”

Accommodating me, he wove around the bed and met me by the footboard. He took the phone, swiped the screen, and reared. Jaw clenched, he tried to hand it back to me.

I refused. “Look at her, Matt. Take a really good, long look.”

“I know what she looked like, Jenny. I don’t need the reminder.” He tossed the phone on the bed and turned away, but I grabbed his arm.

“You know her features, do you?”

He pulled from my grasp and stalked back to the window.

“So you’ve considered the similarities between her and another person you know?”

He whipped around, nailed me with a confused glare. His patience was wearing thin. I could tell by the rigid stance and flared nostrils. And good. I wanted him to snap. He was long overdue.

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“Bar owner, dark hair, tattoos, fair skin, waifish body type.”

Every inch of him stilled. Eerily so. The moment it fully clicked into place, his gaze slowly met mine, and awareness charged between us. I think he stopped breathing.

Well, now or never. “You tend to date shy, sweet blondes. Ever consider why?”

His chest rose and fell in rapid pants. Hands in his hair, he spun away. The muscles in his biceps bunched as he fisted his strands. His shirt molded to the sinew of his back, shifting with tension.

“Let me ask something else. Why is it, do you think, that just as you were feeling restless and bored with your life, she was the one who drew your attention?”

“Jenny.” He growled in warning.

I ignored him. My heart tripped and my pulse thrummed. “The one time you decide to go outside the box, take a chance, it was with someone just like—“

“Stop,” he roared. “Just...stop.”

“Me,” I finished. “Someone who bore similar traits to me.” All this time pining for him, and he’d subconsciously wanted me all along. “I was right here, Matt. Right here.”

Cursing, he faced me, clenched fists at his sides, eyes lit with carnal savagery. “You chose Ian. That first summer, every summer afterward, you chose him. And then you refused to date anyone who wasn’t seasonal.”

I reared. Was he kidding? “Because you never asked.” My voice rose several octaves. “Not once did you glance at me as if I was what you wanted. Trust me, if you had, we wouldn’t be arguing about it now.”

He shook his head in disbelief. His gaze darted between my eyes, frantic. With a growl, he pressed his palms to his eyes and tipped his head toward the ceiling. Curses were grunted quietly, but they seemed to be directed at himself. His breaths soughed.

Finally, he dropped his hands, palms slapping his thighs. But the coiled anger and strain was far from gone. “What do you want from me?”

“I want you to go after what you want. For once, stop settling and—“

He charged at me. My back hit the wall. His chest pinned me there.

And then his mouth crushed mine.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Matt

I
took her mouth in a kiss that bordered on savage. My hands slapped the wall by her head in a meager attempt not to touch. I was at my breaking point. Two years. Two years of celibacy, and one kiss was blasting that all to hell.

Pressing closer, I pinned her in place, every inch of us colliding. She tasted like merlot and sin. Salvation. Her fingers fisted in my hair, tugging, and I groaned at the slight lick of pain. Teeth clashed. Tongues warred. Air was scarce. Her hips thrust forward, and scratch that. Air was nonexistent.

She broke our kiss long enough to shove my shirt over my head and came right back at me, fingers working my jeans while her mouth sent me straight to my death. She had my pants over my hips before a semblance of oh-shit hit me.

“Jenny—“

“Shut up.”

Good plan.

My hands had a mind of their own. I pulled her shirt over her head and pinned her arms up with the material. Her chest heaved as I stared, dumbfounded. No bra. Small, pert breasts that wouldn’t even fill my hands. Rosy nipples. Fairest skin I’d ever laid eyes on. Goddamn perfection right there.

And they tasted just as sweet. My mouth latched onto one erect peak and sucked until she arched, gasping. She wiggled her arms, wanting to be released, but I kept her immobile. If she had free reign to touch, I’d combust where I stood. I moved to her other breast and feasted on that one. The breath caught in her throat, and the sound shot straight to my balls.

Licking and nipping my way up to her neck, I kissed the pulse beating erratically. Needy, sexy as hell noises purred from her. I could’ve come just listening to them. Her leg wrapped around my waist, her toes dipping into the waistband. With her foot, she sent my pants around my ankles. Crafty witch. As I stepped out of them, she kissed every inch of my skin she could reach. Neck. Throat. Jaw.

Fuck, yes.
My ear.

Keeping one hand bracing her arms, I splayed my fingers over her belly. Soft, warm flesh. She was petite, but she had curves and give instead of sharp angles and edge. Watching her eyes darken, I slid my hand lower and toyed with the button on her jeans. Her lashes lowered. Her swollen lips parted. With the release of her zipper, her breaths became pants. I nudged her jeans and panties to the floor and kicked them away.

My blood boiled inside my veins as I looked my fill. Slight hourglass curves. A tiny triangle of dark hair between her legs. Breasts wet from my mouth, a blush working over them and creeping up her neck. Her cheeks were flushed, too, gaze heavy and begging. Pressing my erection against her belly, I grazed my fingers over her hip, along her outer thigh. My lips hovered a breath away from hers as I slipped my fingers between her slick folds.

So wet. I groaned and watched, with satisfaction, as her gaze lost focus. I slid two fingers inside her and her head hit the wall. Tight. So tight. My thumb circled her clit while my dick throbbed painfully to be inside her. Two years kept chanting inside my head. Christ knew how long I’d last and getting her to that delirious ledge was making it harder not to say screw it and plunge.

Her inner muscles gripped my fingers. I moved them faster, curling them inside her to rub her spot while my thumb flicked her hard little nub. With a sharp cry and back bowed, she came on my hand. Swiftly. Shuddering. Trembling. Eyes pinched tight and her teeth sunk into her lower lip.

Her beauty stole my air and, for a moment, I was helpless but to watch her pleasure. To think, I’d done this to her. My strong, vibrant, confident best friend, reduced to liquid heat from my touch. My chest squeezed and my throat tightened as she slowly came down. Releasing her bound hands, I kissed her, long and deep and with the desperation that clung to me while holding her. Finally, holding her against me.

Grabbing her thighs, I lifted her to align myself and paused as she banded her legs around me. Face buried in her scented hair, clarity blinded me and I could’ve wept. Hell, I ached for her like nothing else. But I hadn’t been prepared to have sex with her, with anyone. I had no protection on me—

She cupped my jaw as if reading my mind. “You have condoms in your nightstand. I put them there.”

I paused while the words sank in and almost laughed. Of course, she did. Bless her fucking heart.

Wrapping my arms around her, I pivoted and pinned her to the other wall, not wanting to be away from her for a second. Keeping her steady with one arm, I dug in the nightstand and ripped open a packet.

When ready, I met her gaze. And never wanted to look elsewhere the rest of my life. I was vibrating with need. It had never been like this for me. Never. Not even with Cara. Like I couldn’t live or die or exist in between without this. Without her.

She held my face in her delicate hands. “It’s okay, Matt. Do it. Lose control. It’s me. You’re safe.”

With a ragged exhale, it dawned on me she was right. She’d catch me. Bring me back. As I’d done for her. She was my safe haven, as I was hers. Always.

I sank inside her supple body as slowly as I could muster, savoring the heat, the unhurried give of her around me. She gasped as I took her, then I stilled to hold for a moment. Blessed mercy, but she was tight. I dropped my forehead to her shoulder, struggling for oxygen. Shook like mad with heaven and hell pounding the door.

Her fingers traced the contours of my back, up to my shoulders, where she sank her fingertips into my strained muscles. She pressed her mouth to my throat and that was it. I was done for.

I eased out of her. Thrust back in. A mewl vibrated against my skin in approval. Gripping her ponytail, I gently tugged her head back, exposing the smooth column of her throat. My mouth latched onto that savory little spot where her neck met her shoulder. Her legs clenched my waist and I knew she was good. Better than good. She was lost, just as I was found.

Thrusting hard, sinking deep, I took her with an urgency I could no longer contain. Pleasured, insanely sexy noises emerged from her mouth with every drive, and my release built so fast my spine tightened in warning. She was close, grinding her hips against mine while she clawed for the edge with me. I pistoned faster and, as I was about to beg her to let go, she tumbled, taking me with her. Her walls a delicious vise, she held me to her, inside her, and let out a cry that rattled my ribs. Throwing my head back, I groaned my release, coming hard, fast.

My legs gave out, and I had enough wherewithal to cradle her to me when I collapsed. She sprawled over me as I heaved air, shocked gaze on the ceiling. Somewhere in the madness, her hair had come loose from the band and was spilled over my chest. My fingers idly played with the soft strands as I got my bearings.

“You okay, darlin’? I think I might’ve died, but I didn’t take you with me, did I?”

She shook with a lazy laugh and eased me out of her. She twisted around to dispose of the condom in the small trash by the bed and smiled down at me. “Seeing as you just moved in, I think it’s only proper we christen every room.”

A splendid idea. “Did you miss the part where I said I died?”

Her grin widened. “You look fine to me.”

Sighing, I sat up, taking her with me, and kissed her softly. A lingering kiss that had none of the previous heat and all the tenderness I should’ve given her. “This floor is uncomfortable. Let’s recuperate in bed.”

Once under the sheets, I pulled her to my side and she rested her cheek on my chest. I ran my fingers through her hair again, loving the texture and scent. We lay there, silent, just the sounds of our breathing. The candle on my nightstand flickered, but otherwise it was dark. The storm must’ve been on its tail end. I heard no wind.

I couldn’t remember the last time I laid in bed like this, holding someone. Cara had emotionally checked out before the condom had come off, and I hadn’t been with anyone since. Before her, it had been upwards of a year and that relationship had been stilted at best. But now, with Jenny? It was nice. Comfortable. In a way, my body knew hers, the subtle curves and feel of her from years of hugging or cuddling.

Her fingers traced a lazy pattern over my ribs. “I hate to bring up a sore subject, but because of Cara’s drug use, have you been tested?”

“Yes. I haven’t been with anyone since her and we always used a condom. Crazy as it sounds, she was careful with her needles, best I could tell. I’ve been checked several times. I’d never put you at risk—“

“I know.” She lifted her head, dropped her chin on my pec. “I know that. We used protection, too. I was more concerned about you.”

My heart tugged. “You haven’t always known your partners very well. You okay?” Not that I’d think for one millisecond she’d risk me either. But considering she only slept with temporary tourists, it was a fair question.

“Ian was my last, which was going on two years ago this summer. He’s been my only for a while. Four years, perhaps. I’m careful with my lovers and test routinely. Protection always.” She stroked my arm in an absent gesture. “I’m on the pill, too. We would be okay without a condom, if you wanted.”

As a male species, I stirred at the thought. I’d never had sex without one, and if she felt like heaven with a barrier, I could only fathom what it would be like without. I wanted her again already. Tracing my thumb over her plush lower lip, I stared at her whiskey-soaked brown eyes framed by thick lashes and tried to wrap my head around what we’d just done.

“What did you mean earlier, about me choosing Ian?” Her gaze dropped as if she was embarrassed to ask.

Caressing her cheek with a finger, I encouraged her to look at me. “That first summer, I wanted to ask you out. You had this sad look to you, so I refrained, thinking there would be time.” Now I knew what had put that grief there, and anger threatened to rise for what that jerk had done to her. But this wasn’t the time for the ugly part of our past. “My mind kept playing over the logistics of long distance and if you’d say yes. Then Ian swooped in and that was that. I’d never contend with him. Even at sixteen, he was a charming force with girls.”

Her brows furrowed. “Ian’s a great guy. He showed me nothing but respect and care. But, Matt, he’s not you. I wanted you to ask me.”

My heart pounded at the improbability. “Yeah?”

“Yes.” She shrugged. “You didn’t seem interested. I don’t know why you put yourself down that way. In work, in other areas of your life, you’re confident. But when it comes to relationships, you’re a different person.”

She wasn’t wrong, and if I had any idea what the issue was, I’d have dealt with it long ago. It just seemed that every time I got involved, an element was missing. Whether a connection, passion, personality...something kept me leashed. My morals and values conflicted with basic needs and it was as if the act had become the man. Matt Holcomb, the good guy.

My gaze drifted back to her and I swallowed. I wondered how long this has been festering for her, the romantic interest. I’d shut mine down and coped, but had she? Had I been hurting her the entire time? “Your song. It’s about me?” Not that I had any doubt, but she nodded.

In typical Jenny fashion, she read me in a blink. “It’s not like you think. Yes, I had interest, but it wasn’t consuming. More like a hope something would come from it.” Her eyes said otherwise. Like there was a
but
coming.

When she didn’t elaborate, I stripped myself bare. She deserved that much. “After our first summer, I put that curiosity about you aside and dated the opposite kind of women.” I hadn’t even noticed until she’d pointed it out. “And you were right. Cara was like a wrecking ball and you do share similarities. That had probably been the draw. Subconsciously, I must’ve recognized it, but I wasn’t aware. But you’re very different, too. You’re much stronger than she ever was, for instance.”

Her gaze drifted off, and I couldn’t read her. There were times throughout our friendship just looking at her could drop me to my knees. The open vulnerability she let no one else but me see had been humbling and eviscerating equally. Times like this, though, where I couldn’t get a lead on her, scared me to death. Her in contemplative mode, I’d learned, usually meant she was doubting something, probably herself, and it killed me she believed so much of the shit people had dished.

I brushed a strand of hair away from her face, letting my touch linger on her temple. She had such soft, beautiful skin. Fragrant, fair, and quick to blush. “What are you thinking?”