Page 46 of Twisted Trust
She pats my chest and groans, barely able to catch her breath, so I cuddle her close against me and run my hand up and down the quivering curve of her spine. As we settle together, cuddling like lovers rather than enemies, her previous words slowly come back to me.
She thought I was dead. For a whole year.
How the fuck did that happen? It clicks then in the back of my mind, and a growing calm sweeps over me as I finally understand.
Her anger toward me isn’t born from some great betrayal or twist of the truth, not even my mistaken desire for revenge. It stems from heartbreak.
And I swear I will seek out the cause.
13
MAEVE
Ihave no idea what came over me.
It was like past me surged up and possessed me for every second of that wonderful encounter with Levi. All my determination to avoid him, all my walls of protection just crumbled the moment he kissed me and this incredible yearning for old times surged up, like the cresting swell in the ocean. I couldn’t stop myself from caving to every kiss and every touch.
I’m weak.
How could I just give myself back over to a man like that? After everything he’s done? After the fear he induced in me and the countless tears I shed over him? Am I really so weak that just one kiss makes me toss it all to the wind like it doesn’t matter?
I try not to think too deeply about it while standing under the incredible water pressure from the shower, but every droplet of water kisses one of the marks and bruises Levi left on my skin so I can’t escape the reminders. My neck and chest are decorated in little red and purple marks, my hips ache from the intensity of his fucking, and deep down in my core, the embers of desire flare each time I subconsciously picture his hands on my waist or around my neck.
I scold myself each time my thoughts wander to how good it was to be in his arms again, to feel the heat of his body radiating against mine and the power of his strength manipulating my body in the most erotic ways. I wash the shampoo from my hair, twisting my locks under the water, and for a brief moment, hope flares in my chest that somehow, Levi might join me. I’d be just as weak now as I was last night. I wouldn’t say no to just one more kiss.
And that’s why I have to hate him. This hold he has over me has me crumbling already, and I’ve been in his presence less than twenty-four hours. We didn’t even talk properly afterward because I was so desperate to put distance between us.
Shaking Levi from my thoughts the best I can, I finish my shower quickly and dry myself off with one of the large, fluffy towels hanging from the railing. Peeking into the bedroom as I re-dress in my jeans and T-shirt, alarm pulses through me like a shot of adrenaline to see the door open and Scott nowhere to be seen.
“Scott!”
I’d left him playing on the floor with my phone, but it lies abandoned on the floor and my son is nowhere to be seen. With my hair still soaked and no shoes, I snatch up my phone and bolt from the room. There’s no sign of Scott in the hallway but just as I take a break to yell his name once more, his familiar laughter drifts through from the study I peeked into last night. Barefoot, I sprint down the hall to the doorway and spot Scott just inside laughing heartily at cartoons playing on the large screen TV.
He clutches a small carton of orange juice in one hand with the straw dangling off to the side and he rocks back and forth from his toes to his heels as he watches.
But he’s not the most amusing sight in the room.
Levi is.
He stands near the window like a stiff marble statue with a hawk-like gaze locked onto Scott. Dressed in black slacks and a white T-shirt that’s clearly a size too small, Levi’s forearms bulge slightly from how tightly he crosses his arms. A slim vein runs from his wrist to his elbow, following the curve of his arm, and my mouth is suddenly dry. He has a vein like that on his cock and I hate that I’m reminded of that in this moment because Levi’s face and stature also remind me of the first few times I watched Scott walk.
It’s a gaze born out of fear that the slightest thing could go wrong. I never expected to see it on Levi’s face. Who knew he cared so much?
Would he care more if he knew the truth? In this moment, with Scott laughing his heart out and Levi watching him with such focused concern, I’m tempted. How different would things be if I told Levi that Scott was his son? Would that amplify the concern he’s clearly feeling, or would it drag us back to four years ago when I was told Levi wanted nothing more than to see me and my baby dead?
“Scott!”
“Mommy!” Scott drags himself away from the screen and rushes toward me. I catch him and remove the orange juice carton from his hand in time to stop his fist from squeezing orange juice onto the pristine white floor.
“Hi, baby! I told you to wait for me to shower.” Scooping him up into my arms, I see that Levi visibly relaxes and steps away from the window.
“I was hungry,” Scott complains softly. “Mister Levi gave me some cereal and look!” He gestures wildly to the brightly colored cartoons playfully fighting each other on screen. “Cartoons!” He laughs in delight and bounces in my arms, which brings more relief than I can express. There’s no telling what the effect of the last ten or so days will have on him, so I’ll take the laughter.
“Cereal, huh?” I peer past Scott’s mop of curls to Levi, who shrugs one shoulder and shoves his hand into his pocket.
“Seemed like a safe bet.”
“Lucky he’s not allergic.”
