CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Cat
AFTER SMOKE HAD GONE, I sat down on the couch, my legs too shaky to hold me up. My heart rate was going through the roof and the heat of Smoke’s hands lingered on my thighs. I could still feel the pressure of his cock against my throbbing clit and see the searing intensity in his dark eyes...
I took a breath, glancing at the little box on the table. The ring was perfect. Beautiful. I loved it. No one had ever got me anything so special and so completely me before. I wanted to put it on my finger and never take it off.
But I couldn’t.
The past two weeks with Smoke had been amazing. He’d always been such a huge part of my life that I’d expected nothing to change. Yet somehow everything had changed.
He helped with Annie, talked with me, laughed with me, supported me the same as he always did.
But when night fell he didn’t leave.
Instead he took me to bed. Made me scream into my pillow as he systematically explored and then destroyed every single one of my inhibitions—until there was no part of me that remained untouched by his mouth, his fingers, his cock. There was nothing I wouldn’t let him do. He overloaded me with pleasure until I forgot why I’d ever been afraid in the first place.
Then there were those moments out of bed, when he’d put his hand on my back or thread his fingers through mine. When we’d be watching TV and his arm would come around me and I’d rest my head on his chest. Little touches, small reassurances.
I loved those. I hadn’t realised how starved I’d been of them. Every time he touched me I wanted to arch into his hand and purr like the kitten he kept calling me.
Far from hurting our friendship, our physical relationship had only deepened it, made it richer. Made it into something really, really good.
And yet...
I stared at the ring box. I don’t know why what he’d said, what he wanted from me, scared me so much. I should trust him, and I did, but the thought of putting on that ring made our relationship feel permanent in a way that wearing his property patch didn’t.
Of course that was what he wanted, but the horror of my parents’ relationship and then falling for Justin and having him hurt me so badly had hardened something inside me. I wanted to protect myself at all costs—protect my heart from the pain when everything went wrong, because it always did.
I wanted to protect myself from falling in love again, making myself vulnerable to someone who could hurt me. And Smoke could hurt me. He had the power to rip me apart without even lifting a finger, and that made him far more terrifying than Justin in every way.
Did I really want to give him that kind of power? Especially when he already had so much?
You’re not exactly powerless yourself.
Well, that was true. I’d seen the disappointment in his eyes when I took the ring off and put it back in the box. He’d wanted me to say yes—that was obvious. And I couldn’t deny that a part of me was perversely glad that somehow I’d managed to cause him pain, because I felt like he held my heart in the palm of his hand while he kept his own safely locked away.
‘Love is shit, Cat.’
He would think that. Love for him meant everything bad, same as it did for me. But was he right? Were those words I wanted to hear make everything better? Would they make me feel safe? I love you. I didn’t know. I did know that I didn’t want him to say them to me just because it was what I wanted to hear. I wanted him to say them to me because that was what he felt.
Did he actually love me? Or was I simply a possession to him? Was I simply his property, like his bike or his cut? He did all these things for me—but was that because he’d do the same for anyone he considered his, or was it because of who I was to him?
How can it be you? You’re not that special, remember?
The thought was hateful, so I pushed it away and got to my feet. I couldn’t think about this right now—not when I had to go and collect Annie from the sitter.
I was in the hallway, ready to leave, when a knock came on the door.
Too busy thinking about Smoke, and what I was going to say to him when he came back, I didn’t check the peephole, simply pulled the door open.
‘Hi, Cat,’ said Justin.
Everything inside me froze. My ex was standing there in his expensive suit, his slightly overlong brown hair expertly styled, looking handsome and successful, with his I’m-a-hell-of-a-nice-guy smile plastered on his face.
Taking advantage of my shock, he pushed his way inside, shutting the door firmly behind him. I took a couple of steps back before I could stop myself, my body instinctively remembering the shock and the pain of his blows and wanting to avoid them. Then I halted, furious with myself for backing away.
‘What the hell are you doing here?’ I tried to keep my voice steady. ‘I didn’t invite you in. Get the hell out!’
‘Nope.’ Justin shook his head, still smiling. ‘I want to talk to you first.’
‘Yeah, well, I don’t want to talk to you. Get the fuck out of my apartment.’
He raised his hands in a calming gesture. ‘Five minutes, Cat. Give me five minutes.’
I didn’t want to, but short of shoving him out through the door—and I didn’t want to get that close to him—it didn’t look like I was going to get much choice.
Folding my arms, I lifted my chin. ‘Five. Then you’re gone.’
He let out a breath, as if relieved, and ran a hand through his hair, that smarmy grin he thought was so charming curving his mouth.
‘Okay, look... I’ve been thinking about Annie, and custody, and all that stuff. And how you’re kind of trapped here in this...’ He looked around, his lip curling. ‘Well, it’s not exactly the best place for a kid, huh? Anyway, I wondered if you’d consider maybe getting back together again.’
All the air in my lungs abruptly vanished, making it difficult to breathe.
‘You’re joking,’ I managed. ‘Please tell me you’re joking.’
Justin’s grin faded, a glint of heat entering his blue eyes. ‘No. The truth is I miss you, Cat. And I want you back.’
He could not be serious. He couldn’t.
‘Are you insane?’ I didn’t bother to hide my shock. ‘Why the hell would you think I’d ever want to come back to you? After what you did to me?’
His gaze flickered. ‘I’m different now. I promise. And anyway it’s better for Annie that we’re a family. She needs a father.’
‘She already has a father.’
The words came out before I could stop them. Because, of course, she did. She had Smoke. And he was a better father to her than Justin had ever been.
A mistake to say it out loud, though.
All the charm slid right off Justin’s face like a switch had been thrown. The heat faded from his eyes, to be replaced by a hard, cold glitter. ‘That biker asshole is not her father. I am. And if you care anything for her you’ll know that her place and yours is with me.’
‘Sure—with a man who can’t control his own anger.’ I didn’t hold back the sarcasm. ‘Who’d rather hit me than talk to me. Yeah, she’ll be safer with you, all right.’
Justin’s features rearranged themselves, the charm oozing back again. ‘Oh, come on. You’re really going to keep holding that against me? I loved you, Cat. I still do. Doesn’t that count for anything?’
I stared at him—at Justin with his smarmy smile and his handsome face. Who’d told me he loved me countless times. And it hit me hard—like a brick to the side of the head—that, yes, he’d given me those words and I’d lapped them up, desperate for love and acceptance from someone.
But although the words had been what I wanted to hear, his actions had told a different story. When we were together he’d criticise me constantly, undermining me, making me feel that I wasn’t good enough for him, that I had to work to be worthy of him.
He hit me.
He hurt me.
He made me feel small and weak.
But Smoke didn’t do any of those things. No, he hadn’t given me the words I’d been wanting to hear, but everything he did was for me. He built me up...made me feel beautiful. Made me feel strong. He was constantly pushing me, challenging me, making me step up because he knew I could take it. And he wanted the best for me. He wanted more for me.
Because he cared.
I could feel the truth of it sliding down inside me, imprinting itself into my blood, my bones. Into my soul.
He loved me. He might not have said it, but every day he showed me in the way he touched me, looked at me. In the way he cared for Annie. In every way there was.
And just like that my fear vanished.
I dropped my arms to my sides and took a few steps forward, getting right up in Justin’s handsome, smarmy-ass face.
‘No,’ I said calmly. ‘It counts for exactly zero. Because you don’t love me, Justin. You never did. If you had, the last thing you would have done is treat me like shit, the way you did.’
He snorted, drawing himself up as if to emphasise his height, trying to make me feel small and weak.
‘You’re still pissed about a couple of slaps across the face? Come on. They didn’t hurt that much.’
I don’t know what came over me then—a tidal wave of rage, a firestorm burning away my fear and my vulnerability, burning away my weakness. I lifted my hand, drew it back and punched him in the face. Hard.
He reeled back in shock, blood pouring from his nose, and even though my knuckles were throbbing, it was the most satisfying sight in the entire world.
‘What the fuck?’ His hand went to his nose, his face going red.
‘What are you getting so pissy about?’ I asked. Rage was making me shake. ‘It was just a little punch in the face. It didn’t hurt that much.’
‘You’re fucking crazy!’
I took another step towards him, and it was even more satisfying to see him take a step back. ‘You know the difference between you and Smoke, Justin? Everything. Every fucking thing. He’s a better friend, a better lover, a better father. And he’s sure as hell a better man than you’ll ever be.’
Justin’s face twisted and he reached out to grab me, yanking hard on my hair as he pulled me close. ‘You crazy bitch. I’ll teach you a fucking lesson about who’s the better man.’
I wasn’t afraid of him when his hands turned painful, ripping at my blouse, jerking up my skirt. Instead I was made of rage. I could feel it turning hot, burning bright, and I gathered myself, ready to explode.
Then suddenly Justin’s hands were gone from me and the hallway was full of a harsher, deeper voice roaring, ‘Touch her again and I’ll fucking kill you!’
Smoke was there, and he’d grabbed the back of Justin’s suit, hurling him into the wall so violently Justin bounced off it. Then Smoke closed in again, punching Justin in the face. Once. Twice. Justin fell to the floor, groaning, but Smoke hadn’t finished. He kicked him in the ribs—a hard, driving blow. And again. And again.
My anger had begun to seep away, fear taking its place.
Smoke’s face was a mask of rage and I knew without a doubt that if I didn’t stop him he’d kill Justin—or put in him in the hospital at the very least.
I flung myself at Smoke’s back, pulling on the leather of his cut. ‘Stop it, Smoke! He’s not worth the effort—he’s not!’
But Smoke didn’t listen. His boot was connecting with Justin’s ribs again and again.
Trembling, I slid my arms around his lean, rock-hard body and laid my head against his back, letting him know that I was there.
‘Stop,’ I said hoarsely. ‘Please, Smoke. Stop.’
I could feel the heave of his chest and the shake in his muscles, the intensity of his rage. It was like the rage that burned in me. But there were better ways of letting it out than battering a man to death.
Hell, I shouldn’t have hit him myself—but then I owed him one.
I held on tight to Smoke and eventually he stopped, standing over Justin’s groaning body, his breathing fast and harsh in the enclosed space of the hallway.
I thought that maybe it was too late, that we’d have to call an ambulance, but eventually Justin moaned and rolled over, climbing slowly and painfully to his feet. His face was a mask of blood, his hand curled protectively over his ribs.
‘You’re fucking dead,’ he said viciously to Smoke, his voice thick and mangled. ‘No court in the state will give custody of Annie to her now. Especially not when I have you up on assault charges.’
He spat blood on the floor.
‘Have fun in jail, prick.’
Then he turned and limped out through the door.