Marry Screw Kill(6)

When our eyes met, he slumped under the weight of his day, his computer bag falling to the floor with a thud. His countenance and the sadness in his eyes answered my questions concerning the young girl before he spoke the words. The look resembled the one he gave me the night my mother died.

“She didn’t make it.” He collapsed against the doorframe in defeat.

For the first time since we met, he needed me. I threw off the covers, rose from my bed, and ran to him. I forgot I was wearing only a thin T-shirt and a pair of white lace panties. But as I fell into his arms and felt his hands caressing my bare skin, I remembered how little I was wearing—bare legs and no bra.

“James,” I quietly protested. He answered by pulling me tighter into his arms and burying his face in my hair. His lips found the sensitive area of skin behind my ear and he began whispering sweet words—words you speak to a lover, not a friend.

A decision warred inside me: pull away from this man I cared for and continue living at arm’s length with him or give in to his desires. I thought my heart was too broken from my mother’s death to feel the same attraction he felt for me. I convinced myself time would change my feelings, but my mother’s death was months ago and the feelings of desire still evaded me. I couldn’t seem to muster them up.

Since he brought me to his house the night of my mother’s death, he had taken care of my every need. He planned every detail of my mother’s funeral and hired workers to clean my mother’s apartment and pack up my personal items. He held my hand at the police interview. When I couldn’t seem to stop crying, he comforted me in his arms. I owed him my sanity.

My feelings for him ran deep, even if they weren’t the right ones, so when his strong arms picked me up, I wrapped my legs around his waist, choosing to submit to him.

He carried my clinging body to the bed and gently laid me down. Standing tall in front of me, his scorching gaze slid over my skin.

His breaths came hard and fast. Everything about him was wild and unleashed; a tiger ready to pounce on his prey—me. I gripped the cover in my fists, waiting for his next move.

“I need you, Harlow,” he pled, his voice raspy.

I nodded at him, but wondered if I was doing the right thing. I felt like I owed him something for all the support he had given me. Was this it? He smiled down at me in a show of victory, thinking he’d won.

Placing his hands on the inside of my knees, he pushed my legs apart so he could stand closer. I flinched when his hands caressed my inner thighs, still conflicted over how fast things were moving between us. Maybe too fast for me, but I was silent as his fingers found the lace edge of my panties. I gave into him, because he had been so good to me. My body was the only thing I had to give him.

James stretched the lace and his fingers stroked my sensitive skin. I wanted to enjoy his touch. I wanted to feel all the right sensations.

But I didn’t.

“Fuck, Harlow. Do you know how hard it’s been sleeping down the hall from you? To know you’re in here alone?” His blue eyes reflected a man teeming with unbridled desire. His crazed passion should have caused the blood to race through my veins.

But it didn’t.

“Harlow, I have to taste you. My beautiful, sweet girl.”

Resting on my elbows, I watched him close his eyes and inhale. He dipped his head lower and rested my feet on his shoulders. I knew what came next. The thought of his mouth on me should have excited me.

But it didn’t.

A single tear rolled down my cheek when his tongue worked over me. The harder he tried to bring me pleasure, the further I withdrew. It made no sense. The touch of his skilled tongue would send any woman to the moon and back.

The pain of the memory shakes me back to reality. This man saved me in my darkest hour. Rescued me when I had no one else. Housed me in comfort and safety for the first time in my life. Adorns me with material belongings I never dreamed of owning. I’m afraid to tell him the truth. It’s not his fault I may be damaged.

I wipe my eyes in an attempt to scrub the memory away, but I’m as confused today as I was when James first made love to me on this bed. I should feel turned on by his touch, after all the times we’ve been together. Something’s wrong with me. I’m not normal. Maybe this is how I will always react to sex. Numb.

I sit up on the bed and face the dresser drawers. The mirror on the top catches my eye and I stare at a woman with a polished veneer in the reflection. Perfectly styled hair, clothing that belongs in New York’s finest boutiques—I’ve been groomed to match the models on the pages of glossy magazines. But when I focus on my watery eyes, the face behind the perfect presentation becomes clear: a frightened girl searching for direction—lost somewhere between my mother’s apartment and James’ sanctuary.

My mind whirls, having no idea who I am in this moment. Exhaustion from lack of sleep the night before pushes me back against the soft covers. Knowing the house is ready and I have a few hours before I need to be at the airport, I close my eyes and drift into a welcome escape.





Chapter Four


Sin



“Here you go, Bentley.” I toss my apartment keys to my best friend. He catches them with greedy hands and stuffs them into his pocket. “Keep everything as is while I’m away.”

“This place is unreal, Sin. I still can’t get over the view.” Bentley has said this every time he’s visited me over the last four years. Nina, my doting, Upper East Side grandmother, purchased this apartment for me when I chose to stay in New York City and attend Columbia for undergrad. No one in my class topped this as a high school graduation present. “There’s nothing like this city.”