After the Hurt (2 page)

“Cold?”

Pepper was confused by his question. “What do you mean?” She tried to steady her voice.

He sighed and stepped back, folding his arms over his chest. “You shivered.”

Pepper collected her thoughts and met his intense gaze
.
She drew in a quiet breath, then said the first thing that popped into her mind
.
“No, I'm not cold. Just remembering how much I loved your fingers in me.” When his eyes widened she realized what she'd said and wished she could call it back, hoping like hell the flush heating her cheeks wasn't too noticeable.

“Well, you always were a good lay. Worth the little extra effort it took to get you off.” Tank narrowed his eyes and damn if he didn't give her a smirk.

The words bit anyway. She hadn't expected his harsh tone and was momentarily stunned, even if her smart-ass remark deserved it. She understood where his bitterness was coming from and knew he was trying to hurt her as she had hurt him when she'd left. It wasn't the first time Pepper wished she could turn back time.

“Why are you here, Pepper?”

Always to the point was her Tank. Well, not
her
Tank anymore.

Why am I here?
She doubted he'd truly understand why she left. So how to explain her coming back? She needed to be here, back home, with people she loved, if she had any hope of mending the bridges she'd broken. If she hadn't been so blinded by her grief and guilt over her mom's death then maybe she would have let those around her help her through the pain. Her mental state coupled with her flaming temper had been a recipe for disaster. She looked at Tank and was at a loss for words. She hadn't come back with a solid plan. Once again, she was flying by the seat of her pants and hoping for the best. She searched his face, looking for something that might indicate his readiness to talk.

There was nothing. She suddenly understood that no matter what she said to him tonight, it would fall on deaf ears. He was still mad, probably hated her, so trying to explain things now was likely useless. But what did she expect? She couldn't tell him how much she'd missed him or how much she wanted him. Needed him. Everything about him; his voice, his touch, his laugh—which she wondered if she'd ever hear again—she missed with such a burning intensity her chest hurt. He wouldn't believe anything she had to say now; the anger, maybe even confusion, emanating from him confirmed that.

Coming home to Tank and the life she'd abandoned was becoming one of the hardest things she'd ever had to do. Not only would she have to deal with the emotional impact, but she'd have to find financial stability as well. She'd donated a large sum of her savings to the hospice she'd volunteered at in Bali, leaving little for herself. In hindsight, Pepper wished she had thought it through a bit more instead of reacting so emotionally, but they needed the money more than she did. Which brought to mind the second reason she was here, needing the income from her share of the Octagon, a subject Pepper was scared to death to broach with Tank. Perhaps first he needed to get used to the idea she was back.

“Well, Tank, let me see. Why am I here?” She refused to look away. He was so intense right now, reminding her that he'd once told her he could drown in the “violet pools” of her eyes. How cliché, but it did make her wonder if her eyes still held the same magical spell. Before telling him more, she waited to see if his frosty demeanor would crack a little bit.

Her heart leapt when she saw something flicker in his expression. Was he remembering too? She touched the tip of her tongue to her bottom lip and Tank's gaze followed, watching the movement.

“Yes.” His voice was low and she strained to hear him over the rushing of blood in her ears. “Why are you here?”

Pepper pulled together her strength. It was time to man up; she was fighting for her life and her future. She leaned forward and laid her hands over his. He didn't flinch or show any response to her touch. Pepper fought hard not to show how much touching him affected her. How could he not feel their connection? Touching him now, even if it was only the backs of his hands, made her never want to let him go. She held his hands more firmly in case he tried to pull away. It broke her heart that he seemed completely unaware of the fact that she was almost dying inside. He'd known her so well; how could he not see she'd never lost her love for him? Pepper organized her thoughts, shielding her true feelings. At least for now. Her fragile heart depended on it.

“I'm here to see you.” Surprised she sounded so calm when the riot of emotion inside her made her want to puke.

One dark eyebrow arched up. “Me? After all this time?” He didn't hide the sarcasm in his voice. “Not sure I believe that.”

She gave him the most genuine smile she could muster under the circumstances, choosing to ignore the venom that seeped from every pore in his body. “Yes. You.”

He turned one of his hands over, taking hers with it, wrapping his fingers around her wrist, tightening uncomfortably. Pepper willed herself to stay focused and not let him distract her.

“Still the responsive little minx, aren't you?”

“Only with you, my love.” Pepper turned away from him to catch her breath and find something to give her a momentary distraction. Their first piece of furniture, a couch they'd tucked into the alcove next to an old fireplace, was gone. That made her sad as it was the one they'd celebrated on when they first purchased this building. Not to mention, of course, the many other passionate and intimate moments they had shared before that fire. The alcove now had a cozy table for two. Was it stupid to feel sentimental over an old, worn-out sofa?

She noticed he'd followed her gaze. If he didn't remember their escapades, then he'd turned into one hell of a cold, hard man. She was crushed by how much he'd changed, but it didn't diminish the feelings raging inside her.

Swifter than she could register her shock, he grabbed her arms, pulling her closer to him as they both now leaned over the bar. In his frenzy, a tray fell to the floor with a crash. Pepper was beyond resisting him. She'd been holding it together up until now. His touch unleashed her; it had been far too long since he'd last laid his hands on her, regardless of his intentions.

She thought she heard a low growl come from somewhere deep inside him. Pepper sucked in a ragged breath at the intensity etched on his face. A glint of his passion made her heart leap. Oh, maybe, just maybe it wasn't lost after all. He had to still have some feelings for her. No matter how hard he tried to hide them. They stayed almost nose to nose for what seemed like an eternity. She was dying to scream at him to “Either kiss me or toss me aside; do something!” Pepper knew how deep Tank's passion ran. He was a complicated man, and intense in everything that he did, from his MMA days to owning a bar restaurant to loving her. It was one of the many reasons she loved him so. Their sexual chemistry was rare and she wanted it back.

He knew her inside out, every nuance, every mood, and most important, he
understood
her. She refused to believe they'd never have those moments again of quiet intimacy or the wild and exciting lovemaking that was only theirs. Bottom line: Pepper had realized during her travels that she couldn't live without him anymore.

Tank stared into her violet eyes. The ones that had had the ability to turn him inside out. But not today. Not tomorrow. Not ever again. The shock of seeing her after the door slammed shut had been enough to stop his heart. He'd been about to step out from behind the floor-to-ceiling glass-walled wine cooler to do one last check of the details for the engagement party this evening and had frozen mid-step.

Now she was back in his arms; he was staring into her face. A face he'd loved from the moment he'd laid eyes on her in high school. What the fuck was she doing here? Now, after all this time, without even a peep from her, she'd returned. Where had she been? What had she been doing? Pepper had vanished into thin air. He wanted to rage at her but bit his tongue. The rush of emotions crashed over him and he didn't trust himself not to say something he'd regret. His actions probably gave away much of what he was feeling but, holy hell, touching her again felt amazingly right, which only confused the fuck out of him even more.

His breath ceased as if there were a band wrapped tight around his chest squeezing the life out of him. She'd been able to bring him to his knees in the past but, by God, he'd not let it happen anymore, especially after what she'd done. He was still reeling and not thinking straight, unable to believe his eyes. When she'd come through the door just a few minutes ago, Tank had felt like a starved man seeing food for the first time in days.

He'd watched her weave between the tables with an elegance and grace a dancer would envy. When she'd removed her coat and slid onto the stool, her red leather skirt hiked up to reveal a very familiar, tantalizingly trim thigh, it had nearly done him in. Her long, slender, and yes, magnificent legs had him mesmerized, especially when she'd hooked a high heel on the rung, crossing one leg over the other. He swore those were the same heels she'd worn the last time they'd fucked. Once he would have called it making love. That didn't suit them anymore. That was the past.

But those damn shoes. They matched her flaming red hair, and the memory of her sprawled naked before him, arms flung wide, was imprinted on his brain forever. Like it was yesterday, he could still see her alabaster skin in vivid contrast against the glossy black sheets. The clear violet of her eyes gazing at him under her finely arched ginger brows. She'd lain there, taunting him to do as he wanted with her. And he had.

That scorching image gave way to her face so close to his right now. Merely inches apart. Close enough to kiss. But there'd be no fucking her again, ever. Even though his raging hard-on wanted it, it could not happen. Tank cursed himself for his involuntary reaction to the raw sexuality she radiated, and at her for showing up out of the blue. Now here she was in his bar—correction,
their
bar—and the six months and eighteen days she'd been gone no longer seemed real. As much as he wanted to shove her away, he couldn't stop himself from pulling her closer. He ached to feel her and inhale her oh-so-familiar exotic fragrance a little deeper. Her quick breaths snapped him out of his trance as he tried to regain his senses.

Pepper was a temptress, no doubt about that. Tank was fighting to keep from getting caught up in her sultry web all over again. She'd torn his heart out when she left him. Seeing and touching her now only reminded him how painful it had been to wake up to an empty bed. He insisted the staff always stream music into the restaurant, even in the off hours, to help him forget her; the white noise kept him from hearing the ghostly echo of her voice, her laugh, her sweet moans. But now here she was. Back in his world and about to turn it upside down, all over again.

Holding her, Tank noticed Pepper seemed smaller, more tan than he remembered. He wanted to rattle and shake her until she cried, then toss her the hell out of there before the engagement partygoers showed up, and before he lost his heart to her once more. But he didn't do any of the above. Instead he held her, then pulled her closer; she felt too damn good to stop. He bit back a groan, urging himself to let go before he made a complete fool of himself.

She looked up at him, now limp in his arms, and he allowed his gaze to roam over her ever so briefly. One last look, he told himself. A reminder before he insisted she leave. Her short, excited breaths never failed to turn him on. Sure enough, history repeated itself and, as he feared, her sultry magic was working on him. His cock had a mind of its own and no matter how hard he wanted to tell her to go, his dick had other ideas. The last thing he wanted was to have his guests come through the door and find him banging her on the bar. Which in Pepper and Tank's previous life was a total possibility.

But he couldn't resist teasing her a little more, nuzzling her ear and letting the silken strands of her hair shroud his face. Her breathy sighs told him everything he needed to know. She was craving him. And that meant it was time to push her away. Reject her.

As she'd rejected him.

The tips of her fingers brushed his chest and a shot of lightning went straight to his cock. The sensations gave him clarity that ironically only increased his confusion. He wanted her, and it was getting harder and harder to deny it. He'd never wanted anyone like he did her.

“Oh, Francis.” Her angel's voice, all breathy and full of desire, broke through the roaring blood in his ears. Hearing his real name brought him out of his lust-filled haze just as if a bucket of icy water was dumped over him. Nothing like hearing the name he'd been born with coming from her lips. She knew better than to use his birth name. In fact, she was one of the very few who actually knew it. He hated that name and any form of it. He didn't give a shit if he was named after his grandfather. But who in the hell named their boy Francis, anyway? Frank or Frankie had been the norm, though fortunately “Tank” stuck after his junior football year and carried through his MMA career. With a last name like Sherman, he could've done worse.

The whisper of his cursed name was the interruption he needed. Deciding he couldn't trust himself, and needing to separate them once again, he relinquished his hold on her, maybe a little too abruptly, as she plopped back onto the barstool with a surprised look on her face.

He could tell she was flustered, her cheeks flushed with color. Thank God the bar hid his erection. He crossed his arms over his chest, determined to hold his ground and maintain what he thought was a cool composure. Pepper blinked and looked directly at him, her eyes bright with desire and a tinge of anger. She was trying to regain her self-control, but her violet eyes gave her away. Her temper, never far from bubbling up like a volcano, had always kept him on his toes. He waited for the eruption with a half smile.

“Did I offend?” Her voice was clipped.

Bingo. She was pissed off and trying to control it too. He had the urge to poke the bear but wisely kept silent. She never took kindly to unfinished sexual frolics. When revved up, she wanted it to go all the way.

He was struggling to keep his emotions in check too. He shifted his weight, trying to make a bit of room in the front of his jeans, hoping it might relieve the strain around his dick. He gritted his teeth when she glanced down. She smiled then lifted her gaze with a knowing look.

Tank stepped forward and placed his palms on the cold marble surface and leaned toward her.

“Get to your point.” He lowered his voice and stared her down, fighting to keep a poker face when all he wanted to do was crush that perfect mouth under his.

“Aww, Tank, no need to be so testy.” She gave him a sexy look from under her finely arched brows and pursed her shiny lips. The husky tone in her voice reached right down inside and grabbed him by the balls. “We're pretty good at heating things up, don't you think? Don't feel self-conscious about—” and she nodded her head, indicating his hard-on.

“Point?” he said between gritted teeth.

She pouted and sat back on the stool. Her pouts used to twist his heart inside out, and he'd do just about anything for her. But not today. He'd had a long time to feed on his anger, and the cold block of ice that used to be his heart would take a solar flare to melt.

With a sigh, she crossed one perfect leg over the other. The simple movement drew his gaze like a magnet. Her lovely and very shapely thigh and knee teased him almost to the point of distraction.

Her voice intruded into his erotic haze.

“What's a girl gotta do to get a drink around here, anyway?”

Tank gave her a hard look before turning his back to her. He could have denied her and sent her on her way, but she looked a little cold and he hated that she made him feel sorry for her. In fact, glancing at her reflection in the mirror he could see she was tired. Her hair was shorter and not styled as she used to wear it; in fact, it looked a little messed up. She wasn't her usual polished self and he liked it.

Pulling down bottles from the shelf, he mixed up her favorite drink. There was something different about her. He couldn't quite put his finger on it. Was she sick? The flash of alarm concerned him, but he told himself she wasn't his responsibility anymore. That ended a long time ago. She met his gaze in the mirror and smiled. Heat curled around the base of his spine and he felt a thump in his heart. Yeah, the sooner he had her out of here, the better. Pepper's fiery beauty still tugged at him.

As he finished mixing the drink he reminded himself he needed to keep the emotion out of it. Like how he handled his fights back in his MMA days, it allowed him to think more clearly. He clapped the top of the shaker on and shook it with more force than necessary. The perfectionist in him had to make a perfect pour. The rosy liquid filled the glass, ending with a perfect layer of foam. Tank turned and set the glass on the bar, pushing the Chambord martini toward her.

Her eyes lit up. “Oh, you remembered? I haven't had one of these in so long.”

“Okay, you've got your drink.” He glanced at his watch and continued, “You have about a minute to tell me what's going on.”

She
tsk tsk
ed him and took a sip of the martini, closing her eyes with pleasure. Her impossibly long lashes, tinged with gold from time in the sun, contrasted with her tanned skin. It made him wonder just how many beaches she'd pranced around wearing one of her skimpy bikinis, if anything at all. He pressed his lips together. No way was he going to be jealous. But why did he have to notice every little thing about her? He'd mapped her body years ago and knew every curve and swell. And now he was more pissed at himself than at her for wanting to rediscover her all over again. In the few minutes she'd been here, she'd gotten under his skin in more ways than one. Something he would have to remedy, and fast.

He wanted her out of here before his customers started to arrive. He waved his hand, indicating that she should hurry up. “Come on, bottoms up.”

She lifted the drink and made eye contact with him over the rim of the martini glass. The smile that curved her lips would've melted the heart of any guy. That's it—whether her glass was empty or not, she had to leave. They could talk about why she was back another day. Not tonight.

“Time's up; you need to go,” he said with a finality that allowed no room for argument. Pepper could party hard and pound them back with the best of them, so her sipping her drink so gracefully tonight could only mean she was intentionally trying to prolong her stay. His anger boiled. “I've got paying guests arriving, and since you're not anteing up…” He raised his eyebrows and nodded to the door.

“Aww, come on. I just got here.” Her face expressed concern and he was hard-pressed not to acknowledge it. “I thought you wanted to know why I was here.”

“I do. I did. But it's too late now. You have to leave.”

“Too late, why? I'm not ready to leave yet. I've missed you, Tank, and wanted to see you.” Her voice rippled along his veins like the buzz of an electrical current.

Under the honeyed vibrations he heard an underlying edge of what sounded like despair, and that made him take notice. Again he realized there was something different about her. If he didn't know her as well as he did, he might not have picked up on it. But now wasn't the time to figure her out, it could wait. He was in no mood to deal with her and needed to get her out of there. He didn't want to explain her sudden appearance. It had been bad enough to field all the questions when she'd left, which he still didn't completely understand. How could Tank explain the reasons for her presence to the staff when he didn't know what they were either? He began to realize he didn't know much about her at all anymore. To top it all off, it was just his luck that she would show up the night of their best friend's engagement party—really, it was too comical for words.

He was good at shutting out emotion. He'd been told that many times, and that's what had gotten him to the top of his game as a fighter. Then, when his knee had failed him and Pepper left him, he had changed a lot, or so his sister had told him. Meg said he'd always been a deep, soulful person. But he knew he'd become more cold, aloof, unapproachable—almost frighteningly so. Exactly how he needed to be where Pepper was concerned.

Tank stared at her, keeping his face emotionless. He wondered if seduction had been her game plan tonight. Damn if having his hands on her hadn't made him want her all over again. That pissed him off more than anything. When he was unable to contact her by phone or text the first weeks after she'd left, he'd decided to let her go—since it appeared that's what she wanted anyway. He'd done his damnedest to get her out of his mind. So how could a few minutes in her presence undo all his hard work?

“You're full of shit, Pepper.” His voice was flat, emotionless. Tank checked his watch for the second time; when he looked up she was frowning.

“Am I holding you up?”

He met her gaze and raised his eyebrows, doing his best not to react to the sweet sound of her voice. “As a matter of fact, yes, you are.” Then he smiled like he didn't have a care in the world and slapped his hand on the bar, making her jump. “Drink's on the house, babe. Come on, off you go. Paying guests are coming, and you're not on the invite list.” He pointed behind her and said, “There's the door. See yourself out, please.”