Page 29 of Dark Secrets

“Do you want to tell me the rest of it?”

She nodded and blew out a breath. “He had such a tight grip on my hair I couldn’t move enough to get good aim to hit or kick him. So I-I played along. I ran my hand over him, into his pants.”

James’s hands clenched into fists on his knees, and she shivered. “When his grip loosened on my hair, I squeezed as hard as I fucking could. He dropped to his knees like a boulder, and I kicked him in his ugly face. I didn’t stay around to see what happened after that. I didn’t know where else to go,” she finished in a whisper.

That wasn’t true, but she couldn’t tell him the real reason she’d run straight to him. What good would it do anyway?

His voice was rough when he said, “I’m glad you came here.”

He was so close she could feel the heat of him. His muscles were tense, and she could tell he was angry. But she didn’t think he was angry at her. She wanted to lean in and touch him, so instead she looked around the space.

The apartment looked the same size as the floor plan of the bar, the first level anyway, so the kitchen and dining area were large, with new appliances and a generous island counter.

A big flat-screen TV was mounted on the wall in the living room, and it was separated from the rest of the space by the biggest sectional she’d ever seen. She imagined the wide windows inlaid into the exposed brick wall would let in plenty of natural light during the day.

“I guess I didn’t think far enough ahead to what came after you rescued me.”

“You rescued yourself, Delaney.”

His voice was quiet, and when she glanced back at him, he was studying her intently. His hand twitched in his lap, and he sat back, putting distance between them. She wondered if he wanted to touch her as much as she wanted to touch him.

“I hope your couch is comfy. Unless you don’t want me to sleep there.”

“I don’t.”

Her heart sank, and she nodded, pushing to her feet. “I understand. I didn’t mean to come here and cause you trouble. Thanks for the Band-Aid and everything.”

He stood with her and reached for her hand. He pulled her to the door, but instead of opening it to go back down to the kitchen, he picked up her bag and turned toward a set of floating stairs, leading her up. The open loft at the top was dominated by a pool table and a couple of leather armchairs pushed up against the near wall.

He led her to the left and down a short hallway that ended at a bathroom with a door on either side. He opened the one on the right and motioned for her to step inside. It was a bedroom.

A queen-sized bed draped in a dark blue comforter and piled with pillows sat in the middle of one wall, flanked on either side by white nightstands. A dresser with a small flat screen TV on top of it stood opposite the bed, and a door in the corner led to what she assumed was a closet. She turned to face him and saw he was still standing in the hallway.

“I thought you didn’t want me to stay here.”

His expression was soft, a light crease between his brows the only hint of what he might be feeling. “I said I didn’t want you to sleep on the couch. Not with an extra bed with clean sheets right here. There’s only one bathroom, but this door locks.” He rapped his knuckles against the wood. “And I can crash at my cousin’s place so you’re not crowded.”

When he stepped away, she rushed to the door. “Wait. I…I don’t want to be alone.”

The words left her in a rush, and she could tell they surprised him as much as they did her. She couldn’t take them back. They were the truth anyway. She didn’t know why, but she knew she’d feel safer behind her locked door with him across the hall.

His eyes searched her face, lingering on her forehead where her cut was beginning to throb behind the bandage, and he nodded.

“Let me get you something for the pain.”

She slumped against the door frame when he disappeared into the bathroom, leaning her temple against the cool wood. She heard water running into the sink before he reappeared holding two pills in his outstretched palm and handed her a glass. She popped them and chased them with a deep drink, shifting so their bodies were nearly touching.

Her heartbeat fluttered, and when she looked up at him, his eyes were on her again. If she reached out, she could touch him. If she eased up onto her toes, she could press her lips against his. She had the sudden overwhelming urge to kiss him, to see what he tasted like.

He didn’t move when she shifted again, her arm brushing against his stomach. It was like he was holding his breath, locked in place and waiting for her to make the first move, giving her all the control to push forward or pull back.

When she looked up at him again, time slowed. Their faces were so close she could feel his breath warm against her cheek. She pushed herself ever so slightly onto her toes, her hand reaching out to brace against the hard plane of his chest. Then the shrill ring of his phone cut through the charged air.

She jumped back with a gasp, splashing water over the rim of the glass and onto the floor. His eyes never left hers as he dug it out of his pocket and accepted the call without looking at the screen.

“What?” he demanded, voice tight. “Now?” He listened intently to whoever was talking. “Yeah. Fine. And Brogan? I need your help with something after. Twenty minutes.”

He disconnected the call and slid his phone back into the pocket of his jeans. “I’m sorry. That was my cousin. I have to run out and meet him for something real quick. Are you going to be okay on your own?” He dragged a hand over the stubble on his jaw. “I could call Addy to come sit with you.”

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