Chapter 15
Elizabeth
By the end of the first week of school I was back in the routine of going to class, working at the bookstore, and studying like crazy. I was off to a good start except I couldn’t stop thinking about Colby being at Whitman. I looked for him everywhere now. In the grocery. In the parking lot. Outside my door?
And then there was Karl and my mom. I’d tried to call and text her several times, but she was ignoring me, and I got it. She was angry because I’d gotten upset with her and Karl at the diner. She wanted to use my story to get rich, and no way was I down with that.
By Sunday night, chocolate ice cream and relaxing were the only two things on my mind when I got home from work.
And …
I readily admitted to myself I was jonesing for some English accents, so I kicked my shoes to the floor and snuggled into Granny’s couch for season two of Downton Abbey.
After eating a giant bowl of Ben & Jerry’s and indulging in two hours of television, I stepped out my balcony door and stood there taking in the soft rain that had begun to fall. I was getting wet, but I didn’t care.
Dressed in nothing but gym shorts, Declan stepped out onto his balcony. It seemed neither of us minded the weather. Like me, was he thinking of the last time it rained?
He flexed his hands, loosening the tape around them, his eyes out in the distance as if his thoughts were far away. He hadn’t noticed me, and I eased further back into the shadows, letting my gaze roam over his bare chest, hard biceps, and trim waist.
Why did one guy have to look so damn good?
Did he ever wear a shirt?
I sucked in a sharp breath as I noticed the bruises on his body, one on his shoulder, another on his ribs.
“I know you’re there,” he said.
Dammit, there was no escaping him.
He bent over against the railing, the muscles in his back rippling, eyes still on the horizon.
And I said nothing, anger pricking at me and I didn’t even know why.
But I did … we’d spent the night together—albeit platonically—and he’d had a week to knock on my door, and he hadn’t. He’d sat behind me in class all week but had mostly ignored me, sending eye-daggers my way when I joked around with Dax.
I didn’t understand him.
And yet I did.
Both of us were afraid of getting too close.
He sighed and ran a hand through his wet hair. “I don’t blame you for being quiet. I guess you’re a wise girl to keep your distance.” He grunted. “Which is ironic because you’re the dangerous one, Elizabeth.”
Me? He was the one with the potential to break me into a million pieces.
He turned to face me, his eyes zeroing in on mine, and I realized I’d walked to the edge of my balcony to be closer to him. He took in my damp nightshirt and bare feet.
My nipples pressed against the material as if they too wanted to be near him.
“Dangerous? Please. You’re the one sporting new bruises,” I said.
He shot me a grin. “I like it when you get feisty.”
“I know.” My words were quiet, remembering the night in his apartment.
His gaze brushed over my breasts like a physical touch, desire plainly written on his face.
I swallowed, feeling the invisible wires that pulled me toward him. I threw caution to the wind.
“We slept together without having sex. Do you do that often?”
His eyes smoldered like molten steel. “Never.”
God, I wanted him. Desperately.
I clenched my fists. “Goodnight, Declan.”
“Goodnight, Elizabeth.”
* * *
“The results are in, and I’m pleased to announce the prom king and queen are Colby Scott and Elizabeth Bennett,” Mr. Brown, Oakmont’s headmaster, announced from the gymnasium stage.
Elation washed over me in waves.
At first I couldn’t believe we’d won, but when Colby took my hand to tug me toward the stage, reality set in. This was it.
Everything I’d ever wanted was right in front of me.
“Come on. They’re waiting to crown us, babe.” Colby’s white teeth flashed.
I let him guide me toward the stage, my pink dress sparkling under the mirrored lights as we made our way across the basketball court, passed balloon sculptures and a backdrop featuring a cityscape of Paris. We glided up the steps and toward the center of the stage. Hands from the audience reached out to congratulate us.
Something was off …
A crawling sensation scratched at my brain, pricking at me.
I yanked my hand out of his, but he snatched it back and jerked me flush against his gray suit. “Too late, Elizabeth. This is what you wanted. Don’t deny it.” He kissed me roughly, his hands splayed out across my breasts.
I fumbled and pushed.
Slow motion. I couldn’t move.
Wait. Had I taken something? Was I drunk? What was wrong with me?
A spotlight hit us. I saw Blake and Shelley. I saw my mother and Karl and Senator Scott, their lips curled in disgust.
Then we were in the hotel.
I was on the bed with him between my legs. Jamming into me.
No, no, no …
The terror wouldn’t end.
I fought.
Stop, stop, stop.
“Elizabeth, wake up!” Firm hands shook my shoulders.
No!
I came awake screaming.
I scrambled up to the headboard. My eyes bounced around the room.
My bed. My dresser. My apartment. Declan. Thank God.
I sucked in a shuddering breath. My hands wiped my eyes, feeling wetness.
“What happened?” I croaked as I scrubbed my face, trying to clear it.
He sat on the edge of my bed, and even in the dim light I could see his normally tanned face was white. “I heard you screaming from my room and came in through the balcony after I couldn’t tear down your front door. Thank God your balcony door was open. You were all twisted up in the sheets …” He stopped talking, a muscle working in his jaw.
I moved closer to his warmth and leaned my head against his shoulder. Inhaled. “You must think I’m a lunatic.”
He lifted a hand to cup my head. “Do you want to talk about it?”
I bit my lip at his kindness and snuggled into his arms more fully. “No. It—it’s nothing you want to know about. I just need some water.”
“Okay, I’ll get you some.” He left and went into the kitchen, where I heard him milling around and opening cabinets until he found a glass and filled it. He came back into the bedroom and handed it to me.
Feeling nervous and just plain old shy, I scrambled to find conversation. “Did you—uh—actually jump to my balcony from yours? Wasn’t that kind of dangerous?”
“Yes,” he said softly. “But your front door was locked. Maybe you should give me a key.”
Key? I laughed to hide my surprise. “You’re just a regular Superman, aren’t you?”
He shrugged, his expression giving me nothing.
I nodded.
Okay. Things were strained between us.
Obviously he was ready to go. I mean, I’d woken him up and he had classes tomorrow.
Silence ticked between us.
I kept it simple. “Thank you for coming over.”
He rubbed his jaw. “If you’re good then I should probably go—I guess?”
“I guess.”
Neither of us moved. “You don’t need anything else?” he asked.
I needed him. My body craved him. I was sick of seeing him for brief moments each day. I wanted more.
“No.”
“Mind if I use the front door?”
I smiled. “Sure.” We walked to the front door together, and he surprised me by reaching out and grabbing my hand on the way. His warm fingers stroked the tangled scars on my wrists.
He studied them. Looked back at me. “What happened?”
I swallowed. “I fell in love with the wrong guy.”
I waited for him to question me or get angry at my stupidity, but I shouldn’t have been surprised when he didn’t. This was Declan, and he wasn’t like anyone I’d ever met.
“I noticed them the night I showed you how to punch, but I didn’t say anything. I’m sorry for your pain,” he said, gazing down at the pink skin. “Your scars are beautiful. It means you survived. It means you’re here with me.” He kissed my wrist, light as a feather—and changed everything about us. “It’s my favorite part of you,” he said.
Big moments happen with the smallest of actions, and sometimes it’s not until later we connect the dots, but in that instant, I knew that somehow, someway Declan was going to own my heart. It terrified me and excited me all at the same time.
He brushed a finger down my cheek. “Elizabeth? Do you really want me to go? Because—because I don’t want to. It’s been a shit week and I’ve barely talked to you and—”
“I want you to stay,” I said softly.
Still holding hands, we went back to my darkened bedroom.
We got into bed together. Being careful of his bruises, I snuggled into his chest letting the warmth from his body seep into mine, banishing my nightmare. Wrapped up in a gorgeous body and tattoos, he was a heady sleeping aid. I wanted to yank my gown over my head, climb on top of him, and take him inside me. I wanted to ride him until all the bad memories were gone—but I didn’t. I settled for keeping my clothes on and pressing myself against his hot skin, pleasure flooding me at the way his hands roamed my back, brushing against the bottom of my shirt, his fingers massaging me.
His touch was sexual.
Yet it wasn’t. It was simply more, and I was terrified to put a name to it.
So I didn’t think about it at all.
I just went with it.