Beautiful Storm (18 page)

Her sharp intake of breath crucifies me. Bear’s hand clasps hard on my shoulder. “Time to leave.”

“Mate, I left years ago.”

B
ASTILLE
BLARES ON
the radio while I work underneath an old Dodge Charger, which came in this morning. My mind’s taunting me like it has for the past twenty-four hours. Endless movie reels of Lizzie play through my imagination. The feel of her skin beneath my touch, her storm grey eyes, and no matter how loud the music, I can’t block it out.

I reach out from under the car to pick up a socket wrench, and movement catches my eye outside in the car park. I strain my neck to see what it is, but decide it’s a fucking hallucination, or it’s the movie in my head playing tricks on me. I’d assume I was still a little wasted from last night, but it’s three in the afternoon.

She’s got some balls, I’ll give her that.

Lizzie’s caramel hair is tied back in a loose ponytail, a few strands framing her beautiful face. As I watch her swaying hips as she walks in, my pulse quickens and blood pounds through my ears, rushing through my shrivelled heart. Every inch of me goes on high alert as I slide out from under the car and get to my feet. I slowly wipe the grease off my trembling hands with an oily rag, and then shove them into my pockets so she can’t see the effect she’s having on me.

She stops just inside the workshop door. The flecks in her stormy eyes sparkle in the sunshine. She just stands there. Her eyes widen a fraction then rake over my bare chest. I took my shirt off earlier, because the summer heat in the workshop is unbearable, and I feel more naked than if I were standing with my cock out. I don’t know why she’s here. She’s not even saying anything.

Our eyes lock for a second or two. I get lost in the depth, lost in memory, before my anger resurfaces.

“What do you want, Lizzie?” My tone’s harsh, and all business. Inside I’m a quivering mass of emotions I don’t want to feel.

Her gaze drops to the floor and her posture shifts. “I shouldn’t have come.”

What did she expect me to do? A happy dance? Throw an instantaneous welcome fucking home party?

“No, you shouldn’t,” I bite out. The hurt I feel overrides any pleasure at seeing her. I turn away from her and walk towards the back office. I need to escape, need to hide. I want to run to her. I want her gone. Bollocks, I don’t even know what I want.

“How have you been, Noah?” she calls out to my back.

Is she for real? I swing back around, fists now clenched at my sides, and stalk up to her.

“How have I been? You wrecked my fucking life.” My voice is low and menacing, even to my own ears.

Lizzie doesn’t retreat. She stands her ground and stares me down with those bloody hypnotic eyes of hers. A million emotions flash through them.

“Noah. I…”

She reaches for me, but I move away. I shouldn’t be doing this now, or here, but poisonous words spew out of me uncontrolled.

“You want to know how I’ve been? You took everything I had. I couldn’t eat. I couldn’t sleep. Two women taking your place couldn’t satisfy me.” Lizzie flinches as my words carve through her. “All I wanted was you.”

The reality is for months I couldn’t even get laid; my cock wouldn’t get hard for anyone but her. My palm and imagination became my best fucking friends. I try to take a moment to calm the fuck down. My eyes throw daggers at her, but my whole body rebels against my brain. It’s burning up with desire and pulsating with the need to touch her.

“How—”

I cut her off. “Piece by piece I’ve built my life back together. It’s been slow, painful, and taken three bastard years. Even after all that time I still couldn’t move on. And God. Believe me. I fucking tried. So tell me. How do you think I’ve been?”

Lizzie’s eyes rage like a storm and the flecks are bright sparks of anger. What right does she have to be angry?

“How can you blame all that on me? You. Left. Me,” she spits at me. Her chest heaves and a flush has risen up her neck. It’s obvious she’s having just as hard a time being in close proximity to me as I am to her.

I shake my head in disbelief. “You pushed me away. Shit, Lizzie, I asked you to move in with me. I loved you so fucking much, I can’t even put it into words, and you threw it in my face. You told me you didn’t love me. What did you expect me to do, stand there and beg? Begging’s not in my nature, love. You chose the wrong man if you wanted that. Oh right, I forgot, you didn’t choose me though, did you?” Bitterness spews out in my words.

She’s pacing in front of me like a lioness protecting her young. She’s restless and looks like she’s going to flee at any second, if she could only see a way out.

Well, I can show you the fucking door
.

“I didn’t have a bloody choice!”

It’s my turn to flinch. I have never known Lizzie to raise her voice and she very rarely swears.

“I know I told you I didn’t love you. How else could I make you leave? I once told you I’d never willingly leave you. I kept my word. I made you leave me. But I can tell you right now, it was the last thing on this earth I wanted.”

She’s walked into my space. At this distance her eyes are a wild tempest and I want to drown in the resulting flood.

She turns away before continuing. “You think this has been easy on me? That when you walked away I carried on with my life? If that’s the case you can think again, because the moment you walked out my whole world fell apart.”

“So that’s the line you’re going with? You didn’t have a choice? If you fucking felt something for me, surely we were worth fighting for. But no! You pushed me away.” I can’t hide the pain in my voice.

“Oh, God, Noah. You are so bloody frustrating at times.” She throws her arms up in the air and turns to me. “What did you think I was doing? I was fighting for us the only way I could. The only way I knew we would survive,” she assures me.

Domineering Lizzie is new to me. And fuck, she’s sexy. I want to laugh in her face, but there’s a seriousness about her that’s compelling. She honestly believes in what she’s saying.

“What the hell does that mean? And you think
I’m
frustrating? I barely survived you, Lizzie. For three years I’ve loved and hated you. I’ve drunk myself into oblivion more times than I care to remember. I let this place nearly go under. I’ve tried to shag you out of my veins, but not another woman on this planet compares to you. And you’re standing there telling me you did it so we would survive? Survive fucking what, Lizzie? Because I’m barely hanging on.”

“Mac!” she screams at me.

I’m stunned. “What’s that cocksucker got to do with us?”

“Everything. Absolutely everything.”

Lizzie has lowered her voice and she’s looking at the floor, hiding from my angry gaze. The fight appears to have left her body, whilst I’ve got a volcano roiling in mine which wants to explode. I have the feeling I need to keep a lid on it if I’m going to get out of Lizzie what’s been going on. Why she pushed me away hard enough for me to leave. And from what little Layla’s said, why I’ve wasted three years of my fucking life away from her.

“Lizzie?” My voice is low and laced with warning, a ‘tell me now’ warning.

She looks up at me with uncertain eyes, fear flashes through them, but I know it’s not from me. She
knows
I would never harm her.

I take her by the arm and lead her towards the back room, aware anyone could walk in at any time. The touch of her skin on my fingers inflames me in a way I haven’t felt since the very last time I laid my hands on her. She doesn’t pull away, so I press my hand into her back, guide her in, and then slam the door behind us. When I turn to face her my breath catches. I’d forgotten how small she actually is. I tower over her, so I step back, not wanting to intimidate her.

“Well?” I speak softer than before, and cross my arms so I don’t do anything foolish, like pull her into them. She’s like a magnet to me. Then, having second thoughts, I grab a T-shirt from my locker and sling it on, because the first thought of ripping off her clothes and pressing her skin up against mine is far too tempting.

“Do you have any idea how many times I wish I could’ve been wrapped in your arms, or even just heard your voice? There were so many times when I just”—she closes her eyes then reopens them slowly and glances up at me through her lashes—“needed you.”

I swear my heart stops for a few beats. She’s going to be the death of me. Her beautiful grey gaze glistens with unreleased tears, and every agonising emotion known to man runs behind it. She’s always had the most expressive eyes. I mentally kick myself for being sucked back in by them. I can’t speak. My anger has passed and I’m floundering in their depths.

Taking the time to actually look at her, I notice she’s grown more beautiful, if that is even possible. Her hair would still fall around her shoulders if it wasn’t pulled back, but it seems thicker, healthier. She’s put a few pounds on in weight, not much, but enough that it seems to soften her. But the main change is in her face. Her eyes that were always so alive when she was with me look tired and drawn. Fine lines crinkle the edges, but they don’t detract from her beauty, only enhance it.

She still, after all this time, takes my breath away.

“Noah?” She gently places a hand on my chest and that ever-present current between us shocks through me. I jump at the contact and pull away.

“Don’t touch me.” One simple touch enrages me as my whole body floods with need, but my voice is barely a whisper.

I can’t control the feelings that are resurfacing, and I don’t know how to cope with them. If she touches me again I’ll lose complete control and give in to the need stifling me. My fists clench and unclench at my sides. Years of hurt and anger battle with years of desire and love. The big bang is taking place in my body. My heart wants to wrap her in my arms, but my head would like to tell her to fuck right off, and I don’t know which one will win out.

Her hurt gaze roams over my face, looking deeply into my mine. She’s looking for something and I’m not sure if she’ll like what she finds.

“You have two choices, you either tell me right now what that wanker had to do with what happened to us, or you can turn around and leave. The choice is yours.” My mind yells at me to hurt her and push her away like she did to me, but my heart’s screaming at me that if I do I’ll never see her again, never know the truth. From what Layla said, Lizzie’s been through something I don’t yet understand. I know I’m being a bastard. But I’ve got to protect myself. I can’t be destroyed again. I’d never recover.

She looks thoughtful, like she’s considering her choice. Her whole body stiffens. She’s made up her mind and is steeling herself. My heart sinks with the thought of her walking out the door.

“We were only supposed to be one night, Noah. That’s what you offered.” Her voice is soft.

“Lizzie, don’t fuck with me.” I know full well what we were meant to be, but I needed more. Much more.

She sighs and runs a hand through her hair in irritation. In spite of myself, I smile a fraction. It’s like looking into a mirror.

“I hid a lot from you when we got together.” She throws a nervous glance at me. “It’s not something I’m proud of, but it’s not something easy to talk about either. Um… the further we moved on from that first night”—her face flushes—“the harder it was to bring it up.”

My temper begins to simmer again, and I feel like I’m riding a knife-edge. But then I remember I haven’t been entirely open with my past. A past she still doesn’t know about, either, and more than likely for the same reasons. I bury the fire deep in me as she continues.

“I’m not really sure how to say this, so I’m just going to spit it out, okay?”

I put my hands in my pockets as a defence mechanism and nod apprehensively at her, still unsure why I’m listening to her.

“Um, the first night we spent together I told you I wanted to escape. What I… um…” She fidgets for a beat as she struggles for the words. Her forehead creases, and she takes a deep breath. “Mac used to hit me.”

Motherfucker.

The air sucks out of my lungs and I struggle to breathe. How could I not have known? How did I not notice, see the signs? The lifeless grey eyes flash in my memory from when I first met her. The blue welts around her wrists that final day. She reassured me over and over I hadn’t caused them. The urge to roar like a fucking lion overtakes me. How could I have been so stupid? I’ve been creating my own personal hell, but she was living one.