Tragic Beauty (Beauty & The Darkness #1)(16)

It can’t end.

Not like this.

He turns away and walks steadfast to the door and pauses, head bowed. “Burt texted me earlier. Said he’d have the car out front by five.” He doesn’t even look my way, or say goodbye.





CHAPTER SEVEN





I stand there in a daze, Gavin’s words still lingering around me. Slowly, I turn around and find myself staring out over the city, taking in the sort of view I’ve never seen before. So many little lights twinkle in a rainbow of colors, but they all begin to blur as my eyes fill with tears that spill over quietly. I look up and stare at the big, white rock, drifting between clouds. It seems so close…so close I could almost reach out and touch it. I follow the moonbeams down, to the shadows and silhouettes that whisper all around me. Off to the side, I see a path, leading to a dark forest of trees that rests on a gentle downward slope, its treetops glistening in the moonlight. I stare at it, at the darkness that lays waiting just beyond. It calls to me, because it’s the only thing around me that feels familiar. This house, this city, this view, it’s like foreign lands to me. But the trees, that forest, with a familiar sky overhead, promises me shelter, a cocoon of nature I want to lose myself in, because it all hurts so much. Too much.

I want it to be him.

I want him to be my first.

The idea that he isn’t into anything more than a fling has me thinking—maybe I could do this with him after all.

If he’ll let me.

I turn around and head back inside, where it’s quiet and dimly lit. I wander past the sleeping fireplace, to the laundry room, and take my clothes out of the dryer. The red dress looks so strange now, like from a different time. I take the wet clothes I’m wearing and put them in the dryer, then wrap the towel around me and make my way up the stairs. At the end of the hall, I see a glow coming from beneath the double doors, but it disappears before my eyes.

At the door to my room, I stop, one hand on the latch, the other holding the towel. I’m at one of those crossroads, the kind where life can go one way or the other. I can go inside, get in bed and accept that Shayne will be my first.

Or…

I open the door, toss my dry clothes in the room, then walk slowly down the hall. At the double doors I stop, my heart pounding within me. I think about what I’ll say, how much I should reveal. If I tell him I’m a virgin, I know he’ll refuse me. I won’t bleed, but I wonder if he’ll be able to tell by my inexperience. I’ve never even kissed a man. But the certainty of what I have waiting for me back home offers me strength.

I need it to be him.

As quiet as I can, I open the door with a shaky hand and step inside.

Moonlight streams in through a giant window off to my right, casting rays across the large room that holds nothing more than a punching bag off to the side, and a bed that appears to float off the ground. I expect to see Gavin lying on the mattress, but instead, he’s sitting on the edge, in his underwear, his head in his hands.

When the door clicks closed behind me, his head jerks up.

It takes only the barest physical effort to let my fingers release the towel. It’s such a simple movement, with such drastic consequences, sort of like how it might feel stepping off a cliff.

I stand there, hoping he can’t see how much I’m trembling.

Gavin sits fully upright. “What the fuck are you doing?”

He sounds angry, like the beast I first met back on the freeway, but still I walk towards him, feeling vulnerable, feeling the spotlight of the moon shine on my naked body as I walk into its rays. I watch his eyes turn dark and hungry.

I stand before him now, my hair wet around my shoulders, my skin hot like it’s on fire. Carefully, I reach for his hand and lift it to my breast. I gasp when our flesh makes contact, and a low groan seeps from his throat, but he yanks his hand away.

“I can’t,” he snaps.

Determined, I reach for his hand again, but he grabs my wrist and yanks me to my knees. “You don’t know what you’re doing.”

“Yes. I do.”

“No. You don’t. I’m a brutal lover, Ava. And with where my head’s at right now, I have no place touching a woman, much less a woman like you.”

Like me.

I don’t understand what that means. I turn away, afraid to ask, afraid to know, but he takes my chin and guides my gaze back to his. The anger in his eyes is still there, but now there’s regret, and sadness too. “You put on a good show, Ava, but you’re more delicate than you let on.”

I swallow, still not understanding. “And that’s…bad?”

His lips tighten and his hand falls away. “I’m not a gentle man.”

I reach out slowly and run my fingertips along the dark line of his jaw. “I don’t need you to be gentle. I can’t afford gentle.” It’s the truth. It may seem strange, but I know what my future holds. It won’t be gentle. It will be anything but gentle. And I want—no need—to experience it first at the hands of someone I trust, someone I care about, which seems odd to be thinking that way about him after only one evening together. But somehow, the series of events we’ve been through, just in the course of a night, has brought us…close. And I do. I care about him.

He stares at me, and I think perhaps I’ve broken through to him, but his face grows tight and he jerks away from me and stalks to the other side of the room, by the punching bag. He turns and faces me, hands in fists by his side. “Get out!"