Page 46 of Guilty as Sin
He smelled like pine soap and clean cotton, he felt like every hard and fierce and tender thing she’d ever wanted, and she needed him to keep kissing her. And to get his hand all the way under her sweater. Oh, did she need that. “Just this once,” she said. “That’s all it has to be.”
If she could tell Lily, could make a plan for how this could work… but Lily was gone.
Please. Let me feel this good. Let me have this. Just for tonight.
It was a losing battle. There was no way this was right. She couldn’t tell him, and that would make the whole thing a lie. And she had to keep Lily safe. That was her job.
Jace was sitting up. She blinked, struggled to sit herself, and winced at the stupid jolt of pain.
His face was hard. His arm was gentle. He pulled her up by the waist and said, “What do you mean, just this once?”
She ran a hand through her hair and tried to get back some control. He was too lean and too tough in that navy-blue T-shirt. She wanted those arms around her again, those hands on her body. She wanted to take off his shirt andtouchhim. “I meant that I don’t need it to be real. One night. No strings.”
Oh, no. My scars.
Two bullet holes. Two ugly purple pits he would see, because there was no missing them. Two holes that Lily didn’t have in her leg.
Lily.
What she’d said hadn’t sounded that great to her. It definitely didn’t sound great to him, because he was standing up and strapping the shoulder holster back on with quick, efficient motions. Nothing jerky about them, but she could feel the anger pulsing in him all the same. “Let me guess,” he said. “You’ve got a thing for dangerous men. You don’t have one anymore, but here I am, and I’ll do for tonight.”
That isn’t what I want, though,she wanted to tell him. And she couldn’t. “No,” she said. “That’s not it.”
“I think it is.” He had the flannel shirt on now and was at the door. “Find somebody else. I’m not your novelty fuck.”
He didn’t slam the door. It only felt like it.
Paige leaned her forehead and palms against Lily’s pretty, green-painted door and breathed.
She’d never felt less like Lily.
Lily was thoughtful. She was gentle. She was tactful. And all of those things, Paige had thought, in her heart of hearts, were weak.
Lily wouldn’t have done this, though. She wouldn’t have sent a good man out into the night feeling like he’d revealed the best of himself, had offered a woman his help, his strength, his tenderness, and had her throw it back in his face like it was worthless. Like all she wanted was his hardness, the tough mask he showed the world. Lily wouldn’t have made him feel like his best self wasn’t good enough.
So he wanted sex and didn’t get it,her weasel side tried to argue.So you turned a man down. You’re allowed to do that.
Not like this. She should never have sat on the couch with him. She should never have invited himin.And she couldn’t explain it to him. Not now. Maybe later, after Lily was back, after all this was over. At least she could tell him that she’d recognized what she’d seen, and that it had mattered to her.
And he could tell her that he’d put it behind him and moved on, because that was what that kind of man did. He didn’t stick around and ask to get hurt some more.
She turned at last, picked up her bag with the gun in it, and walked up to the landing, hauling herself by the banister and setting her teeth against the pain the stairs caused. She thought about the laundry and decided to leave it until the morning. It was her day off from the store, and it would be one more chore to add to the list. For tomorrow, when she felt better.
You kept walking. The more it hurt, the more you wanted to stop, the more you kept walking. That was one thing she had in common with Jace.
Upstairs, she changed out of the soft, feminine clothes and into a long white cotton nightgown she’d found in the back of the closet. It was feminine, but it was comforting, somehow, to wrap the cotton around herself. Like tucking herself in.
You’re tired. You hurt. Sleep, and it’ll be better in the morning.She took a couple ibuprofen and lay in the dark, focusing on her rhythmic breaths and the beating of her heart, and the inflamed nerves in her leg throbbed right along with them.
Pain was always worst at night. When there was nothing else to focus on, when it lay on you like a lover and tried to take you over. When your eyes were closed and you had nothing to look at but your mistakes.
Outside, she heard a plaintive yip, an answer. The first undulating howl, and the spine-chilling near-scream of a pack of coyotes in full cry. A sound to make the hair rise on your head. Too close, too, like they were right outside the livestock fence, smelling the goats and the chickens.
The unearthly racket stopped at last, leaving behind nothing but the singing of the wind in the trees, a gentler music. It should have been peaceful. It was lonely.
She knew her resistance was too low. She knew it would be better tomorrow. And the shameful tears came all the same, spilling their heat over her face and into her hair as she lay alone in the pretty, cozy house that wasn’t hers, held her aching leg, and wished for more.
Wished for love. Wished for joy. Wished for peace.
