Текст книги "Screwed"

Автор книги: Kendall Ryan

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Текущая страница: 9 (всего у книги 11 страниц)

Speaking of which . . . I tell my growling stomach to hold its horses. There’s something I have to take care of before work, and I don’t want to be late. Besides, it’s Monday, so there will be free donuts in the conference room. Think of the sprinkles. No, wait, don’t think of them yet.

At last, I look as fierce and polished as I wish I felt. I dig my tenant agreement out of my filing cabinet and head downstairs to the building manager’s office.

“Good morning,” I say as I walk up to his desk, aiming for a tone that’s cheerful yet brisk. “I’d like to inquire about canceling my lease on 4B.”

The small, skinny man takes the heavy packet and turns to its last page. He blinks slowly as he reads, like an old owl. “This is a twelve-month lease,” he finally says. “You’ve only lived here for . . . six weeks?”

“Yes, I know. I’m willing to pay the fee for early cancellation.” I pull my checkbook out of my purse. “I can write you a check now if you want.”

Another long blink. “Is there something wrong with your unit?”

Yeah, your boss’s dick got into it. “Not at all. It’s a great place,” I say with a smile. “I just need to move.” And this guy just needs to stop grilling me and fill out the paperwork already.

“I see,” he replies, looking like he doesn’t see at all. “Hold on a moment, ma’am. Let me check with Mr. Oliver.”

Oh, for fuck’s sake. I wait as patiently as I can while he dials and mutters into the phone. After five minutes that feel like five hours, he hangs up. “He’ll be right with you.”

“Uh . . . sure.”

With a heroic effort, I maintain my smile while screaming internally. This is absolutely the last thing I wanted. I’m not ready to see him face-to-face yet. But here he comes . . . After what feels like only a split second, I hear footsteps coming down the hallway. The familiar sound of his leather dress loafers on carpet.

When Hayden walks in, time screeches to a halt. My empty stomach constricts at the sight of him. All the hurt and betrayal I felt in Omaha comes flooding back with a motherfucking vengeance. It took me days before I could even start moving on—but this bastard never had anything to move on from. He played me like a violin, got what he wanted from me, and then hooked up with his ex the very next night.

And he looks as delicious as ever. That just adds insult to injury. He stomped my heart into the dirt and my body still wants a piece of him. Everything about this is so incredibly unfair. I try to grasp that anger, draw on it, and let it strengthen my resolve again.

Hayden’s expression seems kind of pissed off too. As soon as his blue eyes meet mine, though, his irritation fades into what looks almost like regret. “You want to move?” he asks.

What I want is to spit a defiant yes at him and swish out of here like a diva. He didn’t ask why I’m canceling my lease; he knows damn well what this is about. But I’m suddenly not sure if I can trust my voice, so instead, I just nod at him.

“Okay,” Hayden replies in a carefully neutral tone that I can’t read. He turns to the building manager. “Go ahead and cancel Miss Winters’s lease. No penalty.”

And with that, he walks out the office door, leaving both of us speechless. Hayden still seems pretty upset under his flat, even facade. But not at me.

At himself? Why, when he was the one who tossed me aside in the first place?

I hesitate, anxiety warring with curiosity, and anger playing both sides of the field. Then I shake my head and stomp after Hayden. It’s time for me to get back to work . . . but before I can do that, I need to lay this mystery to rest. Or else it will never leave me alone.

Chapter Nineteen

Hayden

 

It’s been several days since I saw Emery, and my heart beats wildly in my chest as I watch her approach. She’s in one of her trademark fitted dark suit jackets and pencil skirts, and she looks beautiful, smart, and put together. It makes me miss her even more. Her heels click loudly across the sidewalk as she moves with purpose toward me.

“Do you have anything to say for yourself?” she asks, venom in her tone. If she was subdued in the leasing office, now she’s full of fire.

A stabbing pain flares in my chest when our eyes connect. “That I’m an asshole, and you were right all along.” The words come from someplace deep inside me, so I know they’re true.

“You just up and leave me in a hotel room in Nebraska, turn off your phone and, what . . . start fucking Roxy? Just for fun? Just to see if you could royally fuck me over like everyone warned me about?” Her voice is loud and angry, but her eyes well with tears at those last words.

“You don’t know anything about me and Roxy.”

Her eyes widen and her nostrils flare. “No. You’re right. I don’t. Because you never told me anything about you and Roxy! I opened up to you so many times, and you couldn’t do the same.”

Glancing around, I see a few of the nosier tenants have gathered on the sidewalk and are watching our spectacle.

“Come with me. There’s something I need to tell you.”

She narrows her eyes, and for a second I think she’s going to refuse me. But then I say, “Please,” and her gaze softens. She might not want to hear my explanation, but something in her needs to hear it. Closure, I’m guessing.

“Okay.” Her tone is defeated, and I hate that. Her usual spark has faded, and everything in me wants to fix it. Part of me wants her to yell and scream and hit me, but she doesn’t, even though I deserve that and more.

She follows me upstairs to my place, and when we enter, I can hear Dottie humming from the other room. I forgot she was here. One sighting of Emery and my head went completely blank, I guess.

Dottie pokes her head out from my bedroom. “Hi, boss. Didn’t know you’d be back this morning.”

“Dottie, could you excuse us, please?”

Her brows pinch together as she glances between me and Emery. Emery is visibly upset, with her hands balled up tightly by her sides and her face red.

“Sure,” Dottie says slowly.

“You can take the rest of the day off. Paid. Take your grandson to the beach or something,” I suggest.

She nods, and scurries out the door moments later.

Then it’s just the two of us left alone in my condo. Bright sunlight streams in through the windows, and it’s too quiet.

“You’re going to move out?” I ask.

“What did you expect me to do, Hayden? Continue living here where I have to see you every day? No thanks. I have more respect for myself than that.” She plants her hands on her hips. “But I didn’t come up here to explain myself to you. You said you had something you needed to tell me.”

“Right.” I nod. “Please come sit down.”

We go into the living room and Emery takes a seat on the couch, her posture as straight as an arrow. She watches me warily. I wonder if the real reason she wants to move out is because being near me is painful to her, which would mean she has feelings for me. Or maybe it’s just that she’s pissed off and hates my guts. Either way, I have to take a chance.

“This isn’t easy for me, but there are some things I need to get off my chest.”

She crosses her arms in front of her. “Fine. I’m listening.”

“Roxy and I have a past.” Fucking understatement of the year.

“No shit,” she mutters under her breath. “You think I’ve just now figured that out? I saw her sneak out of your place late the other night—just after we had been together. She ducked out of here so fast, clearly doing the walk of shame.” She rolls her eyes for dramatic effect.

“That night, I asked her to come over to set things right between us. Nothing happened, if that’s what you’re implying. I haven’t slept with anyone else since you.”

“And you just expect me to believe you? Take that at face value?”

“I’m an asshole and an idiot, but I’m not a liar. I’ve never once lied to you.”

She works her bottom lip between her teeth.

“I have to start at the beginning, or I won’t get this right.” Rubbing one hand over the back of my neck, I take a deep breath. “Her real name is Naomi. Roxy’s just a stage name. I knew her before she was Roxy, long before she was a stripper. We met in college. She was a dance major, believe it or not.”

I look up to see Emery’s reaction. Her mouth is hanging open.

“We dated for three years. I was crazy about her. I loved her free spirit, her straightforward outlook on life. She always seemed wise beyond her years, nothing like the bubblegum-chewing sorority girls who would give me doe eyes and then whine when I didn’t ask them out. Naomi was confident. Fun. She didn’t need a man. It made me want to be around her even more. Honestly, the way she was back then . . . kind of reminds me of you.”

I meant it as a compliment, but I have no idea if Emery takes it that way. Her expression remains impassive as she waits for me to continue.

“Our junior year, she broke her ankle in three places in a bad roller-blading accident, and had to have a couple of surgeries. It ended up costing her the dance scholarship that paid for her college, and she eventually dropped out of school. Things changed between us after that. She became . . . resentful, even though I tried to be as supportive as I could. I even had her move in with me, because she needed extra help getting around while she was recovering. But being together twenty-four/seven only seemed to make things worse between us.”

I take a deep breath, knowing this next part of the story isn’t going to be pretty.

“A few months later, Naomi told me she was pregnant. I was over-the-moon happy. I figured it was exactly what we both needed—I thought it would get our relationship back on track and give her something positive in her life to focus on, since her dance career had been effectively ruined. And even though I was young, I was excited about the baby. I bought all the books on parenting, and little rattles and blankets. It was nuts, but it was the only positive thing in my life at that time.”

Emery leans forward, her fingertips on her lips.

“She hated that I was happy about that baby. She said she didn’t know if she ever wanted kids, and certainly not when we were just twenty years old. It drove an even bigger wedge between us. And then . . .” I blow out a big breath I didn’t know I was holding. “Two weeks later, she told me that she’d lost the baby—had a miscarriage. Part of me didn’t believe her. Knowing how she felt about the pregnancy, I didn’t put it past her to just go off and have an abortion without telling me.”

A lump forms in my throat, and I have to take a minute to collect myself. In my mind, I see a life that could have been, but never was. A little boy with my dark hair and her brown eyes toddling along beside me. I can see it so clearly, and it cuts like a knife through me. As he grew, I would show him everything I knew, all the ways to be a man. I’d take him with me to the properties we were renovating, let him help as much as he wanted. A paintbrush in his chubby fingers by the age of four. He’d learn responsibility, and I wouldn’t have to miss a minute of watching him grow. Working alongside me, he could learn a trade if he was the type who wanted to work with his hands, or if he preferred to be behind the scenes like me, I’d show him the finance side of things.

“Oh my God.” Emery’s eyes are wide and her hands are clenched in her lap. “Do you really think . . . ?”

Blinking away the mirage, I shrug. “Not anymore. That night you saw her leaving my place, I was so fucking confused about you, and I . . . I asked her to come over. I felt like I couldn’t face our future if I didn’t really have closure on my past.”

Emery’s nose twitches at that phrase—our future—but she doesn’t probe me on it. “What did she say?”

“We talked about everything—things that we hadn’t brought up in years. She handed me a piece of paper from her doctor, showing that she’d been diagnosed as having a miscarriage all those years ago. She’d been telling the truth the whole time.”

“I’m sorry,” Emery says quietly.

“A baby between us wouldn’t have solved the huge rifts in our relationship. I see that now. And I realize that blaming her for how things turned out between us wasn’t fair. But it’s in the past, I guess, right?”

She nods, her expression softening.

“My point is, losing her, losing our baby . . . it fucked me up. It made me turn into a guy I didn’t even like. But I had to protect my heart. I couldn’t get involved in anything serious again. My mission in life became all about having fun and living in the moment with no regrets. Kids were no longer on my radar, and a serious relationship was the last thing I wanted.”

“I get it, Hayden,” she says. “But why do you call her Roxy, and not Naomi?”

I shrug. “To me, the person she is now . . . she’s Roxy. Naomi, that girl I fell in love with all those years ago, is gone. It was tragic what happened to her, but I know she’s moved on. She’s happy with her life. She isn’t one of those poor, helpless girls stuck in a degrading job. She actually loves stripping, loves what she does. And honestly, it’s a classy club.”

“You’ve been there to see her dance?” Emery’s voice rises in confusion.

“No. I went there once a long time ago for a bachelor party, so I’m familiar with the place. That’s all I meant. Watching Roxy dance would be too weird.”

“Yeah, I guess so.” Emery rises to her feet. “Well, thanks for explaining all of that to me. I guess it does clear some things up. But I’ve got a lot of packing to do, so I should be going.”

“I’m not nearly done explaining anything to you.”

Confusion settles over her features, etching a line between her brows. “You’re not?”

“Please sit back down.”

Bending her knees, she lowers herself to the couch once again. And I take another deep breath, ready to peel back another layer and expose myself to her.

“That morning in Omaha, after the best sex of my life . . .” Her eyes widen. “You farted.”

“God, Hayden. I know, I’m sorry. I’m a disgusting creature. I get it.” She throws her hands up in the air. “For fuck’s sake—grow up.”

“No, just listen.” I clear my throat. “In my world, women didn’t pass gas, they didn’t belch, or shit, or do any of that other disgusting stuff men do.”

She rolls her eyes.

“But then you did that and I thought it was cute. Like, legitimately. I wasn’t grossed out; I wasn’t disgusted. I actually liked the fact that you were comfortable enough around me to let go and be yourself.”

She tosses a throw pillow at me, but there’s a smirk on her mouth. “I told you, that was an accident. It had nothing to do with being comfortable.”

“I know. But it made me realize just how deep my feelings for you ran. I was willing to throw all my rules out the window. I was a different person with you. That scared me. And you’re so driven with your career, and not looking for a man, that scared me too. I thought it’d be history repeating itself all over again.”

“And you ran.” Disappointment flashes in her eyes.

I don’t know why I thought explaining all of this would automatically entitle me to forgiveness. Of course it doesn’t work that way. Emery’s been hurt by the men in her past too many times.

“You have to understand,” I tell her. “I’ve been haunted for a long time, thinking I was cursed when it came to love. Feeling what I did for you has only dredged up all those old feelings of confusion and heartache and abandonment.”

“I wish you could have explained that to me before just completely shutting me out. That was really shitty of you.” She looks down at her hands as she says this, and I can’t help moving over to sit beside her on the couch.

“I’m sorry I left that morning. I’m sorry about everything. I should have told you about Naomi sooner.”

I take her hand in mine, and Emery gazes up at me. “Did you mean everything you said . . . about me being the best sex of your life, and about you being different with me?”

“Every word. I hope you believe that. Can you forgive me for running out?” I’m pleading with her, my voice solemn and serious.

She nods. “Yeah. I always knew you were a dipshit, but I also believe there’s hope for you yet.” There are tears shimmering in her eyes as she says this, as if she doesn’t quite know if she can let herself believe it yet. “I’ve missed you, our friendship,” she says.

“I’ve missed more than that,” I admit.

“Me too,” she adds softly. “But I know you don’t do relationships.” Her voice is sad.

“I’m trainable. Entirely.” I rub careful circles over the back of her hand.

“We’ll see about that.”

A tiny flicker of that spark I fell for is back, and I breathe just a little easier. Then Emery jumps to her feet again, looking panicked. “Shit. What time is it? I’m going to be late for work.”

A quick glance at the wall clock shows it’s almost eight, and my gut cramps at the thought of her leaving. “Call in sick. Spend the day with me.” I’m pretty sure I’ve never once muttered that phrase in my life, and once it’s out of my mouth, it’s further proof that this woman does strange things to me.

She’s silent for several moments, leaving me terrified that she’ll reject me. She takes a deep breath and I think she’s going to blow me off, tell me that she can’t. But then she straightens her shoulders and looks me in the eye. “If I do that, you’re going to spend every second of today groveling . . . and I need to study.”

I nod, suddenly eager to please. “Absolutely. You can study, and I’ll even go out and pick up lunch later.”

A small smile adorns her lips, and she digs her phone out of her purse and begins typing a message—which I assume is an e-mail to tell her boss she won’t be in today.

“The lunch will be of my choosing. Correct?” she asks, glancing up at me as she taps out the rest of her message and then shoves her phone back in her purse.

“Of course. Anything you want. But first . . .”

“What?” she asks.

“I’m going to kiss you.”

Unable to resist, I cross the room in two long strides and pull her into my arms, her chest bumping against mine. She releases a surprised gasp. Then my lips crash down on hers and she opens for me, letting my tongue invade her mouth in a passionate kiss. With our mouths fused together in hungry kisses, my hands wander down to squeeze her ass. Emery groans into my mouth, and I know she wants this every bit as much as I do. Even if we don’t quite know where we stand, even if our future is still murky, even if she hasn’t completely forgiven me yet. She and I both know how perfectly we fit together.

“Let me take you to bed.”

She breaks from the kiss, her eyes on mine reflecting so much emotion—past heartbreak and confusion, but underneath it all, lust.

“I’m not going anywhere. I swear this time. I just want to make you feel good.” It’s the only way I know how to fix this. I don’t want to get off—I want intimacy and physical closeness with her.

She nods and lets me guide her into my bedroom.

As I take my time slowly stripping her from her dressy work clothes, one thing strikes me. It’s Dottie’s wisdom from weeks ago—that nice girls don’t wear the kind of panties she’d found under my bed. I think Dottie would be pleased to know that Emery’s wearing white cotton, no-nonsense granny panties. And she’s still the hottest fucking thing I’ve ever seen. If Dottie’s right about this, and she usually is, then Emery is a keeper. And viewing her as wife material doesn’t make me want to run. It makes me want to keep her all to myself. For always.

We fall into bed, my lips at her throat, her hands on my cock, my fingers inside her panties . . . and while our movements are hungry, nothing about this is rushed. We take our time exploring each other’s bodies, stroking, kissing, murmuring encouraging things about how good it all feels.

As I slowly enter her, her breathing hitches and her eyes never leave mine. “We fit together perfectly,” I say, kissing her parted lips.

“So perfect,” she cries, tilting her pelvis up to take me deeper.

Soon I can’t hold back, and I’m pounding into her body again and again while she makes little mewling cries of pleasure. And while I still wonder what’s next for us, I push those thoughts away and lose myself in the pleasure of her body, taking all she’s offering and giving all I have in return.

After we make love twice more, I go into the kitchen to make us a snack while Emery naps. If she’s serious about getting some studying done today—and I know she is—she’ll need some brain fuel. I start a pot of coffee and fry up a couple of eggs. When I peek back into the bedroom, I love the way she looks in my bed. Dark hair spread out over my pillow, her rounded hips draped with the sheet.

As I watch her while she sleeps, I can’t help the tender thoughts floating through my brain about how close I came to losing her . . . and how lucky I am that I didn’t.

Now I just have to do my best not to fuck this up.