Beautifully Cruel (Beautifully Cruel #1)(18)

“No, because of stage fright.”

He stares at me.

I crinkle my nose. “Performance anxiety is a thing for me. I get nervous.”

Eyes burning, he takes a step toward me. I take a step back. He takes another step and I nervously move back again, until my butt hits the console table and I can’t retreat any farther. He leans close to me, and my heart pretends it’s a racehorse and starts to gallop.

Into my ear, he says softly, “Truvy. Beautiful girl. Stubborn little queen bee. I want you to drink because water will help you heal, not because I’m trying to control you. Don’t defy me just to prove to yourself that you can.”

His voice is devastatingly sexy. I’m afraid I might need to grab on to his suit lapels to stop myself from sliding to the floor.

He steps back before that becomes necessary and fixes me with his piercing gaze.

I take a nice, long swallow from the fancy glass bottle, trying to keep my hand steady and my heart from bursting under the stress.

When I’m finished, he murmurs, “Thank you. Now let’s get you into bed.”

He takes my hand and leads me from the foyer across the living room, then down the hall toward my bedroom, not asking the way because he so clearly knows.

The light is on in Ellie’s room, beaming from under her closed bedroom door. I hear low voices coming from inside as we pass, and hope she’s watching something less depressing than A Dog’s Purpose this time.

When we get to my room, Liam flicks on the light, standing aside to let me enter.

Everything is the same as I left it. I don’t know why, but it feels as if there should be some evidence of what happened to me in the alley behind the restaurant. Some telling clue that my life has changed in the period between when I left and now. A visible difference.

I mean other than the wolf tracking my every movement with hungry predator’s eyes.

He stands perfectly still, watching me as I set the half-empty water bottle on my dresser and run a hand through my messy hair.

“I, um…” I clear my throat. “I want to take a shower before bed.”

I didn’t mean it as a provocation, but damn if his eyes don’t flash with desire. He looks at the bed, his lashes lowering, then back at me.

“Of course,” he says, his voice husky. “I’ll let myself out. I left your coat on a chair in the kitchen. Your meds are on the counter in a small white bag.”

I’d almost forgotten about my medication. He must’ve brought it at the same time he came to pick up fresh clothes. Or was that later, or a task he assigned to his surly driver?

So many questions that will have to remain unanswered.

“And Ellie’s key?”

He wordlessly removes it from the inside pocket of his suit jacket and hands it to me.

Then we stand there looking at each other. The awkwardness is crushing.

“Thank you again for what you did,” I say quietly. “In the alley. And at the hospital. And for the book. Just…for everything. I know I won’t see you again, but I won’t ever forget you.”

He glances at my mouth. He clenches his jaw. He hesitates for a moment, looking as if words are on the tip of his tongue, but then he exhales and presses his lips together, thinking better of it.

As if to himself, he says, “Maybe in another life.”

Then he turns abruptly and leaves.

I listen to the sound of his footsteps fading and the faint squeak of the hinges on the front door. Then everything is quiet except the dull thud of my pulse and the sound of traffic drifting up from the street outside.

With Liam gone and my adrenaline waning, exhaustion takes over.

I get undressed and take a hot shower, wincing when the spray hits my cut lip. All the various parts of my body are either sore, stinging, or dead tired. My ribcage aches, and my stomach is tender. The IV drugs are wearing off, too, leaving me feeling as beat up as I look. All I want to do is crawl under the covers and go to sleep for a year.

But when I emerge from the bathroom, wrapped in a towel, that plan is shot.

Liam sits on the end of my bed, waiting for me.





8





Tru





I stop short, eyes widening. My pulse starts to pound all over again.

Bent over with his elbows propped on his knees and his hands steepled under his chin, Liam stares at my bedroom carpet in intense concentration.

When it becomes apparent he’s not going to talk first, I say, “How’d you get back in without the key?”

“I didn’t lock the door behind me.”

“Why not?”

He exhales heavily, as if he was afraid I’d ask that question. He closes his eyes and drops his voice. “I knew I’d want to come back in.”

This is so far beyond my realm of experience with men, I don’t know how to proceed. I stand there staring at him for a moment, my heartbeat going haywire, my wet hair dripping down my back.

Then I say softly, “You can stay if you want, but, um…I’m not in any shape to…uh…”

“For fuck’s sake, lass,” he says through gritted teeth. “I’m a lot of bad things, but a man who takes advantage of an injured woman isn’t one of them.”

“I know you’re not.”

He lifts his head and gazes at me, his brows drawn together, thunderclouds gathering over his head. “You can’t know that.”