Page 92 of All Wrong
“I said, fuck off.”
When no one said anything, he turned his head and glimpsed the bottom twelve inches of a pair of female legs, encased in loose black harem pants, one leg sporting a brace that extended to mid-calf. If that hadn’t given away the identity of the visitor, the ballet-style flats did.
Fuck.
Nick exhaled and pushed himself out far enough to see all of her. She looked … the first word that came to mind wasbeautiful. The second and third,like mine.
Their eyes met. Her baby blues held uncertainty, and it gutted him. He rose to standing, the urge to wrap her in his arms and hold her to him nearly overwhelming. He grabbed a rag and started wiping the grease from his fingers instead, just to give his hands something to do.
“Hey,” she said softly.
“Hey. You look good. You doing okay?” he asked, wincing inwardly.
“Better than the last time you saw me,” she said with a ghost of a smile. “Can we talk?”
“About what?”
For a moment, her gaze faltered, and she looked down at the ground. Then, her eyes rose upward again, and when they did, they sparked with determination. This wasn’t easy for her either, he realized.
She should go. Walk away without saying whatever it was she’d come to say. He already knew because he’d been hearing the words in his head every night during those rare instances when he actually managed to fall asleep.
Thanks for everything you did, Nick, but you were right. We’re all wrong for each other.
She cleared her throat. “There’s something I want to show you.”
He stilled, his mind instantly going to inappropriate places, which was wrong on so many levels. He couldn’t help it with her though. When he thought about her, his mind defaulted to one of two images. Her, naked and writhing in pleasure as he drove his cock into her; or her, broken and battered in his arms, dressed in another man’s clothes.
“What?” he managed.
“Come with me. I’ll drive.”
Corinne turned around and walked out, as if certain he would follow. He almost didn’t. He couldn’t imagine anything good coming of this, and being alone with her in an enclosed space was thelast thing he needed. His self-control was hanging on by a thread as it was. Staying away from her was one of the hardest things he’d ever done. Nobody seemed to understand that.
Yet denying her was impossible. He peeled off his work overalls, then spent time at the sink with the industrial-strength degreaser. If God or fate or whatever controlled things had an ounce of mercy, Corinne would get tired of waiting for him, decide he wasn’t worth it—he wasn’t—and leave.
When he emerged, however, there she was, sitting in her SUV with the windows down as if she had all the time in the world.
He sighed and climbed in. The smile of relief she gave him made it worth every ache he’d feel tomorrow.
She didn’t say a word as they drove through town, then out into the sticks. No inane banter. No questions or accusations. Just the two of them cruising along in an oddly companionable silence with a lot hovering in the air. Kind of like it had that night she waited for him outside the police station. It seemed like a lifetime ago.
“Déjà vu, right?” she said as if reading his mind.
He smiled. “Yeah.”
She turned down a dirt lane and stopped. Hepeered out the window, seeing a massive house silhouetted in the moonlight.
“What is this place?”
“Come on.”
She slid out of the vehicle with care for her braced leg and moved toward the porch that looked unsafe in the beam of the headlights. His innate protective tendencies surged, and he was suddenly right there beside her, ready to catch her if she stumbled.
She went inside. He followed. It was too dark to see anything, but a moment later, a light came on. They were in a large foyer.
She turned to face him. “What do you think?”
“I think it’s creepy as fuck,” he answered honestly.
