Erased (13 page)

My mind is becoming clear once again but all I can do is stare numbly at him. He regards me with determined yet regretful eyes but it does nothing for my broken heart. I can’t look at them any longer so I rest my cheek on his shoulder and close my eyes. When he lays me down in my bed, my eyes reopen to find that I’m not in my bed—I’m in his.

It’s so warm.

He steals away my towel and drops his. Then I slide my palm across his sheets, which are so unusually soft for such a rugged man to own, and try not to wrap myself around him like a spider monkey when he slides into the bed beside me.

Dark, steely eyes find mine and we watch one another, neither of us moving except to blink. Finally, though, his warm hand finds my waist and he hauls me closer to him. Because of the sudden move, my arms are pinned against his chest and I can feel his cock smashed between us.

“I’m so sorry, baby.”

Baby? I’m not his baby.

My eyes leave his to roam his face before settling on his lips. I remember the way his facial hair scratched the insides of my thighs a week ago. It was sensationally wonderful and I put it on my bucket list of things I’d love to try again.

When he leans forward and grazes his nose with mine, our lips nearly touch.

“J . . .”

He wants me to come back to him. To leave the dark place in my mind that I’m desperately considering running back to.

“Slade,” I whisper finally.

Emotion floods his features. Relief. Anger. Remorse.

“I’m so sorry,” he tries again.

What does he want me to say? That it’s okay that he ripped away the last shred of my sanity?

I don’t reward him with an answer but free one of my hands instead. The need to touch him is strong so my fingers skitter along his neck up to his jaw and I stare at his parted lips as I gently rub my thumb across his scruffy jawline.

“Can you forgive me?” he questions. I watch his lips as they slowly form the words.

No, I can’t.

I inhale him again. A deep rumble in his chest makes my eyes rise back to his—to attempt to read his thoughts.

He furrows his brows, letting me know that he’s waiting on my answer. My lips press into a thin line as I shake my head no. A tear rolls down my cheek and I look back down at his lips. When an anguished noise escapes him, I try to ignore the way it pulls on my heart.

Slade doesn’t feel. Slade in no way cares.

I watch his lips part even more as he brings them toward me. As soon as I feel his breath on my lips, I close my eyes. His kiss is soft. With each tug of my lips with his, he urges me to forgive him.

No.

His tongue slides into my mouth and I let him taste me. I won’t kiss him back though. A whimper builds in my throat when he kisses me deeper, begging me to reciprocate. And I gasp when his hands trail along the side of my body, leaving a singe of pleasure in its wake.

He eases me onto my back as he continues his attempt to kiss life back into me. But I’m not Snow White. I won’t suddenly wake up and sing happily now that Prince Charming has come to save me.

I can’t be saved.

“My God,” he breathes between kisses. “What have I done to you?”

His self-loathing tone wiggles its way right into my heart. I don’t want to feel sorry for him, but I do. With a stroke of my thumb, I rub along his jaw again as he kisses me. After a moment, he finally wrenches away from my lips and my touch as if it took every ounce of self-control to do so. Then his eyes search mine.

“Tell me.”

I smile at him, but it doesn’t reach my eyes. “You took away the last piece of me.”

His eyes clench shut and an angry roar splits the silent room in two. “I’m so sorry, little kitten. Fuck. Please come back to me.”

Something about his pleas—his desire to fix me—seems so genuine and real. If he cares, why would he hurt me?

The way he stares at me now, angry yet needy, lights a match. I feel a slow burn begin to form in my core. My skin reacts—notices every part of him that touches me. This time, my whimper does escape.

“Holy shit, J. Let me make it all better,” he begs.

His eyes tell me that he wants to fix it without words. I can’t handle words right now, so I nod.

One of his trademark growls fills the room as he leans over me and fishes for something from the nightstand. With one-handed, perfected-over-the-years efficiency, he manages to slide a condom on his thick cock that has throbbed to life.

Do I want this?

Right now, it’s the only thing left. I need it to feel alive.

“Make love to me.” My words are but a whisper, yet he hears.

I expect him to laugh at me. Tell me that hardened assholes like him don’t make love—they fuck. But he doesn’t. He grants me my one last wish.

With now eager eyes, I watch the determined look on his face as he spreads my knees apart and settles his body over me. In this moment, we both know it isn’t about foreplay or getting off. We both know I need to feel connected to someone—anything—if I have any hope for surviving this life.

My core screams with resistance as he slowly enters me. I’m not wet. I’m not ready. And I don’t care. I need him now, just like this.

He stretches me more than I’ve ever been stretched before. With every push deeper and deeper inside me, he fills me. His eyes find mine a hair before his lips do, and his mouth worships mine as he takes me completely.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispers against my lips. It’s become his mantra.

His hips begin a slow thrust that builds the internal fire he lit moments before. My own hips rock to meet his, and my heels find their way to his hard ass.

“Okay.” That’s all I give him on the subject, but it does something to him.

His endearing growl crawls down my throat as he consumes me. I tear my lips from his and stare out the window for a moment. I’ve never had so many emotions rolling around during sex before. With Slade, it’s anger, passion, want, hate, love, desire, need. All of it at once. It’s overwhelming.

“Look at me, Cupcake,” he groans.

Then my eyes snap back to his and something flares in my chest. The wicked grin on his face tells me that he got the reaction he wanted. After I slide my fingers from his back all the way up into his thick hair, I clutch him there. Shoving him to me, I steal his mouth with mine and kiss him hard. As my tongue fights with his, I tell him that I hate what he did. His tongue meets mine and he begs for forgiveness.

My pelvis flutters and my heart stops as I realize that this man is about to give me my second orgasm of my life as he pumps into me. Like a needy whore, I buck my hips, begging for what he has to give me.

Understanding my need, he plows deeper, harder than before, and takes my body. His kisses become urgent, and he no longer begs for forgiveness—he demands it.

With each kiss and thrust, I argue my case but to no avail. My body forgives him long before my mind or heart ever will, and I shudder wildly as that beloved orgasm bursts through me. Every nerve ending inside and out flares to life and quivers uncontrollably as I lose myself to the pure ecstasy only he can provide.

“Derek . . .” A whispered name laced with so much meaning. Meaning only he understands.

His groans are possessive and proud. He won this battle, but he won’t gloat about it. Instead, as he releases his own orgasm inside me, he rains thankful kisses all over me. His kisses are a promise. He promises to make it better.

Joss wants to believe him.

Jill, however, is skeptical.

NOT WANTING TO crush her with my weight, I slowly pull out and roll to my side, bringing her with me and wrapping her up in my arms. Her body is fluid and she melts into me. Burying my face in her hair, I inhale deeply and her sweet vanilla scent intoxicates me. I want to stay here forever, block out the real world and fuse our bodies together, living as one, making up for the jagged pieces we are on our own.

The guilt washes over me again, and I’m shredded when I remember hearing the sound of anguish ripping from her throat. I didn’t want to be there when she saw what I’d done. I was hiding in my office like a fucking coward. But the sound reached me and I knew immediately that I’d crossed the line. I ran to the front room and witnessed firsthand what I’d done.

I’d broken her.

I was terrified. Terrified that I couldn’t fix what I’d done, that I’d pushed her so far away that I’d never get her back. When I scooped her into my arms and took her to the shower, she was almost catatonic. I couldn’t get her to respond to me. My heart was frozen, and I knew I needed—
needed
—to fix this and bring her back to me.

I hear a small sniffle, which brings me back to the present, and pull back a little to look down at her face.

Damn, she is so heartbreakingly beautiful. She is everything.

Her blue eyes are watery and red from crying, but there is a little life in them now. They even have a little bit of a dreamy quality to them, so I stay silent, not wanting to do anything that might dispel her momentary contentment. Then I place a soft kiss in her hair and hold her a little tighter. She fits against me so perfectly. Like we were made for each other. Like our bodies were made to love each other.

I’ve never made love before, and when she asked that of me, I wasn’t sure I’d be able to do it. But for her—for her—I was willing to try. And it blew my world apart. I’ve never experienced sex like that, never come so hard, never felt as though my world began and ended with another person.

“Derek?” Her sweet voice pulls me from my thoughts.
Derek.

I close my eyes and sigh in relief. “What, baby?” I smooth my hand down her hair and brush my lips over her head . . .

She looks up at me, her eyes serious but not empty like they were before. “Why?”

I glance away guiltily. I don’t want to answer or know if I even have an answer that will satisfy her.

She reaches up and uses one slim finger along my chin to pull my eyes back to hers. “Why?” she asks again, her voice more firm than hurt.

“I was . . . I was jealous.”

Again, I look away and she brings my eyes back to hers. Her look is skeptical, but she doesn’t say anything. She just waits for me to continue.

“You were spending so much time with frat boy—“

“Frat boy?” she asks, her voice laced with confusion.

I feel my cheeks redden.
I’m fucking blushing?
“Yeah, um . . . Jack.”

Her lips tip up the tiniest bit before she seems to remember the point of the conversation. Then they fall back into a frown.

“Anyway, you were spending a lot of time with him, and when I heard you playing a love song the next morning . . .” I trail off and notice that her eyes are studying me intently, but she doesn’t give away what she’s thinking. “I, um . . . Well, I kind of lost it.”

Apparently, I stutter now . . .

“There is no excuse for my actions, J. I will never forgive myself for what I did to you. For breaking you.” I wait then, wait for the storm that is sure to follow, for her to scream at me and run out. But it doesn’t come.

“You were jealous?” Her voice is confused again, but I swear I can hear the smallest bit of warmth.

I’ve already bared my soul to her, so I stay silent. I don’t know what to say anyway. This is all new territory for me.

“But I thought I was just a job to you? I thought you didn’t even like me?”

The wall around my heart cracks just a little and I swallow hard. “No, baby. I’ve wanted you from the first moment I laid eyes on you. Your long, bl—brown hair, those gorgeous, blue eyes, and your killer body have tempted me every moment of every day.” I see that small upturn of her mouth again. “I’m not . . . I don’t belong in your world, J.” I stop then decide that, if I’ve gone this far, I might as well go all the way. “I can’t fight it anymore. Seeing what I did to you . . . the look in your eyes. I just don’t have the strength to put anything but a smile on your beautiful face. So there’s something else I need to tell you. I didn’t . . . I couldn’t go through with it. With Niki. I didn’t sleep with her. I sent her home.”

Her mouth begins to bloom into a small grin. I can still see the sadness behind her eyes, but it’s fading. I pull her close again and give her a good squeeze before slipping out of her arms and then out of bed. When I walk to the bathroom, I turn the shower back on, take care of the condom, and clean up a little. Then I return to the bedroom and stop short at the sight before me.