Forsaken (The Secret Life of Amy Bensen #3)(30)

I cup her breasts, licking her nipples, sucking and teasing. I kiss her neck, her ear, her shoulder. Her fingers tangle roughly in my hair and a soft, desperate plea of “Chad,” follows. It’s then that I kiss her again, then that I drive back into her, and there’s a new edge burning between us. We are grinding and touching and practically trying to get under each other’s skins.

Too soon, it seems, she digs her fingernails into my back and tenses. A second later, she spasms around me, milking my cock, and I drive into her one last time and explode, shaking with the intensity of my release. Time floats away, and I am spiraling into that sweet oblivion that is the moments after great sex.

Slowly, I come back to the room, to Gia, to the natural scent of her that is pure, sexy woman. The feel of her beneath me makes me not want to get up, and that’s when I know this was more than a f*ck session. And that’s not only new to me, it’s trouble. Forcing myself to pull out of her, I stand up, not looking at her as I turn away, snatching up my jeans and walking to the bathroom. I rid myself of the condom in the toilet and lean on the wall, trying to figure out what the hell is wrong with me.

I just met this woman. I can’t have an attachment to her. I won’t. I don’t. I push off the wall and put on my pants, walking into the bedroom.

Gia’s standing by the wall we f*cked against; her back to me, her naked, gorgeous backside in full view as she tugs the dress over her head. But it’s not her gorgeous body that does me in. It’s the tension radiating off her, slamming into me. It twists me in knots, punches me in the chest. Fuck!

I go to her, grasping her elbow and turning her to face me. “Are you okay?”

She laughs nervously, her cheeks flushing pink. “You stripped away every reserve I own and then told me that I can never be that vulnerable ever again in my life. Of course I’m okay.”

Sarcasm. Nerves. I’m coming to know this pattern. “This, us, f*cking like we did, it was an escape for both of us.”

“Right. I get it. And the lesson of it all was that the next time I get naked with a man, he could tie me up and hurt me. Have a gun handy.”

The idea of her having sex with another man sits uncomfortably in my chest, and I don’t like it. She isn’t mine and she never will be. “Sex is a necessity of life,” I say. “It’s going to happen. Be cautious. Be aware. And don’t turn it into a relationship. When someone works themselves beneath your defenses, you’re in trouble.”

“Is that what happened to you?”

My walls slide into place and I release her. “If you have pants that fit and tennis shoes, change. We’re going to be walking a few miles.” I turn away from her, grabbing my shirt and tugging it over my head.

“Chad,” she whispers.

“I’ve made a lot of mistakes, Gia, all with consequences others have paid for.” Turning to face her, I add, “And you aren’t going to be one of them. Go change.” When she doesn’t move, I want to go to her. I know I have to make sure that’s not an option. “I am that guy you accused me of being. I will do just about anything for a rush, and cash. You stay around too long, I might sell you. If the price is right.”

She pales, her shoulders slumping as if I’ve punched her, before she rushes to the bathroom and shuts the door. And it takes everything in me not to punch the wall.





SEVEN



FIFTEEN MINUTES LATER, I eye the clock on the nightstand that reads 11 a.m. and curse myself for being a good hour behind my planned departure time. Eager to get packed up and out of this rat trap, I secure my gun in my ankle holster and try Jared again. I’m listening to it ring, ready to throw the phone against the wall, when I hear the bathroom door. Glancing up, I find Gia standing at the end of the bed, her long brown hair brushed sleekly again, her lips glossed, and if I’m not mistaken she has on some makeup. She’s wearing black jeans and a red Mickey Mouse T-shirt with red Keds, or whatever the hell they’re called, to match. I’m struck by two things. She looks completely different and still adorably, impossibly sexy. What the hell is the deal with the shirt?

“Fuck me,” I grumble, removing the phone from my ear and discarding it. “Did the kid just want you to silently scream for everyone to look at you? Is there any other option in the Walmart bag?”

She folds her arms in front of her, and I don’t miss how carefully she avoids eye contact as she says, “There seems to be a fictional-character theme that includes neon green and hot pink.”

“Of course there is,” I say, regretting the large bills I handed the kid to avoid a high-profile, drawn-out checkout. “Put a hoodie over the top.” I toss an empty duffel in her direction. “And put whatever you want to take inside that. Keep in mind that you can shop for better choices when we get to where we’re going and get settled.”

Her gaze meets mine, and the vulnerability of the woman I’d bound and f*cked, or even the woman who’d darted into that bathroom, is nowhere to be found. This one is coolly reserved, absolutely composed. “Which will be when?”

“We’ll arrive late tonight if things go right.”

She studies me for a beat, then another, and I think she will ask the obvious question, but she does not. Instead, she simply walks into the bathroom and quickly returns with the Walmart bags in one hand and the hoodie in the other. She sets the bags on the bed and slips the hoodie over her head before picking through the purchased items and choosing a few things to stuff in the duffel.