Winter's Path: (A Seasmoke Friends Novel) (7 page)

I set the phone aside and stared at it. For some reason, I couldn’t muster the courage to look at Matt. His presence wasn’t threatening, but he did seem to take up the whole room. “Rock’s my bar manager. He’s also bartender/bouncer/badass. Ex-military and built like a boulder. Thus, the nickname. We call him Rock, but his real name’s Gary.”

When Matt didn’t say anything, I glanced up at him. He watched my face with a wrinkle between his brows and shoulders tense.

His gaze shifted away as if it hurt to look at me. “Are you two a thing?”

I almost laughed, but Matt was serious. “No. He’d probably break me in half if we ever tried. He’s huge. Besides, he’s a local.”

“Right.” He ran his hand over the back of his neck. “He hasn’t...you know, hurt you, though?”

At first, I didn’t understand, but then it dawned on me he must’ve gotten it in his head I’d become a weak little woman after Jared. Which hurt twice as much as anything that asshole had ever done. “First, I’m not a delicate flower easily crushed, and it’s insulting you imply that. Second, Rock would never hurt me. He protects me, watches my back at the tavern. Insurance, mostly. My crowd’s not rough.”

Alarm and regret widened his eyes. “I didn’t mean...” He sighed and glanced at the ceiling. “You’re one of the strongest people I know.”

Frustration barely in check, I gritted my teeth. “Then what did you mean?”

“I don’t know. What you said earlier...” His eyes slammed closed and his jaw clenched.

Damn it to hell. I had the horrible sensation we’d never get past this. Matt was one of the last few decent men around. And I mean truly, bone-deep decent. Chivalrous, compassionate, selfless. I never should’ve given in to his demand for an answer. Now he had images of me in his head I’d never want there. I’d soiled his perfect view of life.

Taking a calming breath, I stared at him. “I said we’re not talking about it again.”

He barked a curse, and the next thing I knew, I was flat on my back. His knees straddled my hips, his hands held the sides of my head, and his face was hovering over mine. Fierce desperation shone in his eyes, twisted his mouth. He inhaled audibly through his nose, gaze darting between my eyes.

Too shocked to move—okay, and turned-on—I whispered his name.

Vibrating, he didn’t react, other than to possibly grow more tense, if that were even possible.

“Do you see this?” he growled after a moment. “This is what knowing what he did to you does to me. I’m climbing the damn walls and needing to kill something. I don’t know if it’s your size, or your sweet temperament you don’t let others see, or if it’s just the fact that I was the first one of us to befriend you, but you bring out in me this barbaric need to protect.” His voice rose steadily, grating rougher with each word. “And it guts me that someone hurt you. All I can envision now is others hurting you. It has nothing to do with you being weak or not being able to handle yourself. You’re neither of those things. That’s what I meant, Jenny. Do you understand?”

His breaths soughed while I lay frozen under him. Until this very second, if anyone had told me Matt Holcomb had an alpha gene, I would’ve laughed until I died. My body was acutely aware of every inch of his skin that touched mine. My flesh was hot, my lungs uncooperative. And I wanted him with a ferocity I didn’t think possible.

I’ve loved him for twelve years, had been in love with him for at least two of those. There was no one like him. They didn’t make men like Matt. They just didn’t. He was thoughtful, caring, funny, and smart. But this? The barely controlled man who was near shattering right now?

Holy, holy crap.

I didn’t know what to say, to do. Normally, I was the one with a quick quip, but nothing was computing. Tentatively, I set my hands on his biceps, and the muscles shifted under my palms as if responding to my touch. His breathing grew even more ragged.

Screw this. I had to know. “Are you...attracted to me?”

“It’ll pass.”

It’ll...pass? A crushing pain filled my chest. He was attracted to me, but didn’t want to be. Because I wasn’t the perfect woman he’d told me he’d been seeking. God, did that hurt. Here I thought I was immune to allowing a man to eviscerate my heart. I’d taken precautions for this very reason. Stupid me had forgotten to build a wall to keep Matt out, though. He may love me as a friend, may recognize his body wanted me, but that was all physical.

My eyes—my stupid fucking eyes—watered and...hell no. I would not cry. Blinking rapidly, I turned my head to avoid him. Tried to breath.

“What did I say?” With gentle fingers under my chin, he attempted to get me to look at him, but I held firm. “Jenny, what did I say to upset you?” He sighed. “I swear, my anger will pass. I’m never like this, you know that. Please, look at me.”

The anger will pass. Of course, that’s what he’d focus on. The out of character way he was acting. Not our position or what he’d said before or the obvious way his body was responding to me. He’d ignore all those factors for the greater good. That was Matt. Always doing the right thing. Hell, wasn’t that one of the reasons I loved him so damn much? I wasn’t even positive he’d heard my question.

And hell. Tears slipped past my lashes, and I wanted to crawl under the covers and die. The last man who’d seen my tears had taken more than my virginity. I knew better than to hope, than to wish things could be different. If Matt hadn’t wanted me when I was a sweet innocent, I was delusional to think he ever would.

His forehead dropped to mine, his warm breath caressing my face. Tenderly, he stroked my cheek with his thumb, wiping the wetness away. “I care about you.”

Oh God.
God, God, God
. I swore, if he said let’s stay friends, I might incinerate on the spot in mortification.

Except, he didn’t say that. He whispered something completely nonsensical that had my lashes fluttering open. His hazel eyes met mine, gaze scorching. “I know better than to do this again,” he repeated, this time against my mouth, his lips a feather-light stroke.

Again? But we’d never—

Increasing the pressure, he tilted his head the slightest bit and turned the barely there brushing into a kiss. First with my lower, then the upper, he kissed my lips as if gathering the lay of the land. A seduction. Every molecule in my body exploded. He coaxed my mouth open with his tongue and we shared a caught breath. He kept his eyes open, watching me, his brows pinched together like he was in the most exquisite pain. The tip of his tongue dipped inside my mouth and retreated, tormenting me with the tease.

I let go of a ragged exhale, and he lifted his head. He studied my face as if he thought I was someone else. Confusion marred his brow. Tracing my chin with his thumb, he swallowed. “Jenny.” Then he dropped his forehead to my collarbone and let out a weary sigh.

Without looking at me, he climbed off the bed, muttered “goodnight,” and left the room.

I lay there, flat on my back, staring at the shadows on the ceiling. What the hell was that? Was that an acknowledgement of attraction? Making a move? A mistake? He seemed more shocked and embarrassed than regretful. And had it been any other man, I would’ve taken charge. But there were no guidelines with Matt, no rulebook to follow. God, my body still vibrated with need.

Pressing my palms to my eyes, I did some deep breathing. Then I collected the photo albums and shut off the light. A few hours later, after no sleep, I went into the kitchen, made a pot of coffee, and took off to run a few errands. I needed out of the house and away from him to clear my head.

I dropped off the photos for printing at the drug store, giving them the sizes I needed and asking for black and white. My visit with Grampy, though not unpleasant, involved little more than me chattering away about the weather while he stared at a wall. Every day seemed to tear another chunk of my heart away. I checked on the tavern, showered at my apartment upstairs, and headed back to Matt’s.

We needed to paint his bedroom today and hang pictures. After the furniture arrived tomorrow, we’d be done and I could return to my place. I’d loved staying with him this week. We seemed to grow closer and strengthen our bond, but it had felt too close to playing house with him and that was dangerous to my well-being.

Still uncertain as I pulled into the driveway, I decided I’d let Matt steer the direction of how to handle the kiss last night. Normally, he was an easy guy to read, but I was at a damn loss on what he was thinking and feeling. I’d follow his signals and play it from there.

Matt

C
offee in hand, I stared out the patio door, watching tumultuous waves pound the shore. The weather matched my crappy mood. Sleet poured down in horizontal ugliness and the wind was brutal, bending palm trees nearly in half. The temp was only in the lower fifties, too. I hoped to hell Jenny didn’t drive her motorcycle today. The thought of her on that deathtrap during ideal conditions gave me shudders.

I shook my head. For the first time in my twenty-eight years, I understood Ian’s insane alpha protectiveness he’d always possessed around Summer. Sure, I’d been defensive of my friends and family, cared about them a great deal. Honestly, though, I tended to bite back a smirk at the lengths Ian went to for Summer. The guy could go from zero to batshit in point five seconds if anyone so much as narrowed their eyes at her.

After last night, I was thinking of writing him sonnets as an apology for ever questioning his devotion. Because...yeah. I got it now.

Without. A. Doubt.

From the moment Jenny told me what that asshole had done to her, something inside me just snapped. Though she’d had her brave face on and she’d kept the tears welling in her eyes from spilling while she’d relayed her ordeal, I knew her. Inside and out. That guy had taken more than her virginity and her trust. He’d stolen any amount of confidence she’d possessed. He’d eviscerated her.

I’d met her after the fact but, from day one, she emanated assurance. She was as strong as she was soft, as self-reliant as she was giving. And last night proved to me a good portion of that had been born out of necessity. Plus, some of her bravado was false, hidden far beneath her tough exterior. One had to look awfully hard to see her tender underbelly of a heart, but damn did she have one.

And I wanted to kill something. Namely the sad, sick fuck who’d hurt her.

Images of her being held down, crying, screaming, pummeled my brain. Nausea had my gut upside down and my chest in knots. Nothing I’d tried wiped the visions away. I shook with a rage I’d never known.

Throughout our friendship, a part of me always considered her mine. I’m not sure if it was because I’d encountered her before the others and introduced her to the gang, or if it stemmed back to my visceral reaction when I’d initially laid eyes on her. I don’t believe in fate or destiny, but a divine being surely had their hand in how we’d met. And when.

I loved her more than just about anything, had for a long time. But a switch got flipped last night, and I couldn’t find the breaker to reset the damage. It wasn’t only my sudden, irrational protectiveness that had shoved to the surface. Nope. That, I think, would’ve lessoned over time. No, it was the fierce desire, the driving need to make her mine, that had me losing my shit.

We kissed last night. God save me, I’d wanted to do more than take her mouth.

Cursing, I turned from the patio doors and rinsed my cup in the sink. I had a lot of unpacking left to do, and at least the task would keep me focused on something besides her.

Cutting open a few boxes, I stared at the contents. Then just kept staring.

I had no idea if I should apologize to Jenny or pretend it never happened. Those were my only two choices because she and I could never cross that line again. I may have desired her as a hormonal teenager—and let’s face it, apparently I still did—but that ship had sailed. There were too many similarities between her and Cara, and I was already swamped with guilt. Jenny just wasn’t what I was looking for in a partner, and I was pretty damn positive she’d never want a guy like me. Besides that, I was a local now, and she didn’t date townies. If all that weren’t standing in the way, our friendship was on the fringe of my mind. Selfish as it sounded, I needed her, needed the bond we had. I suspected she did, as well.

Christ, I’d fucked up. Bad.

I emptied the two packing boxes marked “kitchen” onto the island. My folks had the basics here from our vacations, but not enough for an actual full-time home. I didn’t do much cooking. If I had to, I could scrape by. As I stared at baking dishes and tupperware and cookie sheets, I wondered why I’d bothered to pack them. Most had never been used.