Denial (Careless Whispers #1)(68)

I hesitate, unmoving in the aftermath of his obvious anger. But it is not at me, though I have obviously stirred to life demons he hasn’t fully restrained. And while I am not sure what that means for us long term, I do know he needs someone to anchor him to the present and drive away the past, if only for tonight.

Crossing to stand next to him, I dare to link my elbow with his and say, “I hate that tower, too.”

He disengages our arms and wraps his around my neck and brings my chest to his, his breath a warm tease on my lips. “That was the right thing to say,” he declares, his mouth slanting over mine for a quick, deep kiss, the taste of his lingering anger spiking my taste buds and then fading as he releases me and leads me across the threshold to our tower. We pause just on the other side, and when he hits a button to close our door I have this sense of us being sealed in our own private world, at least for the rest of this night.

Side by side, we start up the stairs, barely touching when I want us to be touching everywhere. But the higher we climb, the more uncertain I become of what comes next, the memory of him leaving me alone in his bed sharply etched in my mind. Even more so, the certainty that no matter where we lie tonight, he is not a man to be held on to. He will leave. Or I will leave, and I can’t fall for him. But I am, I so am, and I can’t seem to care what kind of danger lies in the path to fully realizing all I can be, and feel, with this man. He halts at the main level, his hand sliding away from mine, a question in his action. Am I coming with him or not? But there is more. Am I afraid? Can I handle who, and what, he is? He is asking me to make the decision. There really is no real question in my mind about where I’m going, and where I want to be this night, and the way he can demand, command, and still offer me freedom seals my desire for this man.

I start walking toward his room and he falls into step with me, my pulse quickening with each inch we travel, until he opens the door and I step inside. He follows, flipping a lock into place and punching a button on the wall beside us. The fireplace across the room flames into life in response, and while the room is cold, my skin heats as he touches me again, leaning me against the door, towering over me.

But, much to my distress, his hands fall away, flattening on the wall on either side of me, signaling that a mindless escape isn’t as close as I’d hoped. “Before we go any further,” he says, “you need to understand exactly what you’re getting yourself into.”

“I told you at the bar. I’m not afraid of The Underground.”

“I’m talking about what I am and what motivates me. I wasn’t ready to tell you what happened five years ago, but you know now, which means you need to understand what it was and what it means to me. What happened to Kevin and Elizabeth was no car accident. It wasn’t an accident at all. It was murder. And make no mistake, if I find out who did it, I will kill them, and it will be with zero remorse. Just like I’ll kill anyone who threatens you with zero remorse. Make sure you can live with that, because I damn sure can.” He pushes off the wall and leaves me standing there as he disappears into the bathroom.

I inhale, barely able to breathe for the intensity of his emotions slamming into me. Yes, he has given me honesty, but I am certain this is driven by the same kind of doubt in him I’d felt walking up the stairs. He is trying to scare me, to push me away. But he has failed. No matter how brutal those words are, they are real. He is real, the wolf who doesn’t bother with the sheep’s clothing I’d first seen at the hospital, and his realness is part of his appeal. I need that. I think he does too, but maybe he needs to know that I come with no demands or expectations for a Happily Ever After I know he can’t give me and I’m not sure I even believe exists anyway. At least not for people like him and me.

The shower comes on and I allow myself no hesitation, crossing to the bathroom where his clothes are piled on the floor and he is hidden behind the stone walls of the stall. I take a deep breath for courage and undress, walking to the glass door. His back is to me and I have a full view of the tattoo between his shoulder blades, counting five skulls, and their meaning shakes me to the core. His mother, father, sister, Kevin, and Elizabeth.

I open the door and his shoulders bunch slightly, telling me he is aware of me, but he doesn’t turn. I step to him and press my hand to the center of those tattoos. “Everyone you’ve lost.”

He reaches around and pulls me in front of him, out of reach of the spray of water, walking me backward until I hit the wall. “Yes. Everyone I’ve lost, and I do not intend to let you become part of that circle. But if you want out, if you want to leave—”

“I thought you said you wouldn’t let me go.”

“Do you want to go?”

The question catches me off guard, but I don’t falter. “No. I don’t.”

“After all you’ve learned today, are you sure about that?”

“If you’re afraid I want more than you can give—”

“I’m afraid I want more than I can, or should, ask of you. But I seem to be incapable of stopping myself.” His gaze sweeps low, a hot caress over my naked body that I feel in all the places I wish he were touching me.

I reach for him and he captures my hand. “When I said I like things a little dirty, that was wrong. I like things a lot dirty.”

My pulse leaps wildly with the promise of dark, sexy things I want to know with this man. “Show me,” I say.