Liona
Liona stayed on Desmond's bed ... wait ... no. She'd have to keep reminding herself that he wasn't Desmond Hawes anymore. He was Cutter, now. Which, if she was going to be honest with herself, fit him a lot better. Especially after how he'd changed.
Back in high school he'd been a string bean, the type of guy who was held together by just bones, strips of sinew, and a prayer.
Now, though ...
Goddamn, what a transformation! She stifled a giggle as she thought about it. She'd been able to feel his rippling abs beneath his shirt as she held onto the back of his bike. She pictures his arms flexing on the handlebars.
Of course, he wasn't a bad looking guy before. He'd always had a strong chin, with a great jaw line. She could almost imagine those arms of his, holding her close, holding her tightly. He was strong, stronger than Wyland, she was sure. Deep down, she could see a hidden tenderness beneath all his tattoos and scars. It was in the way he looked at her, the way his eyes lingered on her. Did he still have feelings for her? Like he had back then?
God, she couldn't believe she was actually thinking this way. She'd just left her fiancée at the altar and thrown her old life away. Instead of thinking of her next move, she was thinking of another man, and how his body would feel pressed against hers.
She shook her head, clearing the steamy thoughts of her old high school friend from her mind. There was a time and place for that kind of thing, and it wasn't here.
Desmond ... Cutter at least seemed hopeful the rest of the guys would let her stay. That was a start, at least, a jumping off point.
She sighed and looked around the room. Yeah, the little place was a bachelor pad. There was nothing feminine about this place, no woman's touch. She grabbed her overnight bag off the bed and got up to go into the restroom. She stripped out of her wedding dress and began to change back into the jeans and top she'd worn earlier in the day. As she did, she began to consider her options, mentally lay out what was available to her.
If Wyland hadn't frozen her accounts out of spite, he'd be checking on any kind of purchases she made. He had the passwords on those, had all the control. Which meant she'd be depending on Cutter for support and shelter. That might work, but she hated the idea of relying on him, even after everything.
Liona dug her phone out of her bag. She'd put the ringer on silent as she'd trampled through the forest, ruining her dress and shoes. The ringing had been so incessant, so irritating. She couldn't bear to turn it off and have her father’s voice go to voicemail. In this day and age, there just seemed something so undignified about that, so disrespectful. It was like ghosting on someone you were dating. She just couldn't do it. Of course, she realized, that was what she'd just done. Even if it had been out of desperation.
Twenty missed calls, all from the usual suspects. Ten from her father, also on behalf of her mother, Liona was sure. Nine from Carly, of course. Just one from Wyland. She didn't need to listen to his voicemail to know the hidden threats that would be contained in his words, the promises of shame both physical and emotional that he'd heap on her for the stunt she'd just pulled. One thing was for certain. She didn't need to put herself through that. Not yet, at last.
She kept the phone on silent and dropped it back in her bag. She'd call her father and Carly later, after things were decided by Cutter and his friends. Once she knew she was safe and had a place to stay.
She checked herself out in the mirror. Her makeup artist had been great. Even tramping through the trees, and riding on the back of Cutter's bike, it had barely smudged at all. Now, though, she turned her thoughts back to Cutter. A man like that, he was dangerous. She knew that. She'd seen the movies, the TV shows. Men like him, they were used to getting what they wanted. And he wanted her.
She'd felt his eyes on her, even in her wedding dress. Felt them tracing over her bare shoulders, over the line of her neck, and the swell of her breasts. She was willing to bet that, even after all these years, he still wanted her. Old flames died hard, wasn’t that the saying?
Again, she found herself thinking about him. Liona could feel her heart racing in her chest as she considered what his muscular tanned body would look like beneath that tight white shirt of his. How the rest of him would feel ...
Shit. Why was she so excited by the prospect of Cutter taking his payment from her in the form of her body?