Giving It Up (13 page)

He glanced down at me and then, with a deep breath, visibly relaxed.

Rose’s eyebrows rose as she watched our interactions. “You know,” she said. “I just might end up liking you after all.”

It was hardly the ringing endorsement I’d hoped for at the beginning of the night. But then again, it was better than how things could have gone, considering how she’d been gunning for me at the start.

Once we made our good-byes, I was ready to drag Colin out of there. But he was even more eager than I, his long strides pulling ahead of my hurried steps. Once we were back in the comfort of his truck, I sank into the faded fabric of the seats, soft in a way that can only come from wear, and breathed a sigh of relief.

* * * *

Colin’s brother, Philip, lived in a mansion.

I wasn’t sure what I’d been expecting. With Colin’s modest home, casual clothes, and rough build, maybe a tight-knit little family. I gaped at the sprawling building, probably in some sort of architectural style that had a name, like deco or postmodern or something, and started to doubt the tight-knit family scenario.

It dawned on me how incredibly, impossibly Colin was beyond my reach. His house was beautiful but normal. But his family. Shit. His sister in the ballet. His brother with a mansion and a lawyer on tap.

What the hell was I doing here?

Oh, right. Saving my ass. From Jacob. Like a total user.

No wonder Rose had been suspicious of me. I was everything she feared.

Despite the chilly night air, warmth invaded my hands, and I glanced down to see Colin’s large hands rubbing mine between his own. I looked up at him. “I don’t…”

He cocked his head. “What’s wrong?”

“I just… It’s so big.”

“Yeah.” He shrugged. “It’s mostly for show. Don’t worry.”

He squeezed my hands. I wished I could believe him. I trusted Colin. But he hadn’t seen how his brother was using him. And Colin hadn’t expected his sister to confront me. It seemed to me that he had a blind spot where his family was concerned.

But we needed Philip for the lawyer, and besides, I had hopes that I could get in his family’s good graces. It was clearly important to Colin. I would do this for him.

I squeezed his hands back, and we walked up the steps.

We were let in by a man who seemed to know Colin but who didn’t look or speak to me directly. I looked to Colin for an introduction, but he seemed not to notice.

Surely Colin would know the way. It was clear he’d been there many times. But the man led us to an empty room and then left. A butler, of sorts.

The room screamed masculinity, a portrait of brown tones lined in black. I squinted at the framed sepia photograph nearest me—a matador and a bull. Very subtle.

“Colin. Are you sure…?” I didn’t even know how to end the sentence. This felt all wrong.

“Trust me,” he said.

I couldn’t tell him no. Over the warning bells clanging in my head and through the tense knot in my stomach, I trusted Colin. So I sat down in one of the chairs, the plush leather welcoming my body like a bed of quicksand.

Colin sat in the chair next to me, also sinking low.

Neither of us spoke, but I was determined not to second-guess him again tonight. He didn’t deserve that from me.

The click of shoes on wood announced the arrival of a tall man, leaner than Colin, and darker. He was dressed in a white dress shirt and black slacks, but he wore them as effortlessly as sweats. And when he stepped forward into the lamplight, I saw that his face was disfigured on one side, but it was hard to say what exactly was wrong with it. At least without staring, which I tried hard not to do.

I must have failed, though, because the sharpness in his voice held a reprimand. “You must be Allison Winters.”

“Allie,” I offered, shrinking into the chair even as I told my feet to stand. Colin was made of sterner stuff and stood.

“Philip,” Colin greeted.

Philip swung his gaze to Colin and raised his eyebrows. “You’ve been absent.” Every word was clipped, like it was cut off a second too soon.

“You know why.” Colin spoke evenly. “Where’s Laramie?”

“Late, as usual. I’d love to fire him for it if he wasn’t so fucking useful.” Philip grimaced and threw a nod in my direction. “Pardon my language.”

Ha! That was a trip. If he thought I was a lady enough to watch his speech, then maybe there was hope for me yet. But this was stupid. I’d been silent this entire time.

“Nice to meet you.” It came out as a croak. Neither man acknowledged me.

“Any news?” Colin asked, his demeanor excluding me.

“A few packages arrived last week,” Philip replied, “but we’re seeing delays all over the place. I’ll need you to look into it.”

Colin nodded as if he’d expected as much.

“Bad enough the quality issues,” Philip said. “Now with shipping trouble too. It’s gotta be a setup.”

“I’ll take care of it,” Colin said.

Philip inclined his head as if that settled things. I wondered if I could have as much trust in Colin as that.

I let my mind drift while they talked shop. I’d gone to the parenting clinic for testing and contraception earlier today. The doctor had been different, but the nurse had been the same as two years ago. She hadn’t recognized me. I’d gritted my teeth against their vacant expressions and impersonal touches in my most private areas, but at least that was better than the alternative.

Laramie joined us soon after. Laramie the Lawyer, though I kept that moniker to myself. He had soft features and kind eyes, all the better to trust him with. He, at least, was introduced formally to me. This was Drew Laramie, attorney-at-law and family friend. I was Allie Winters, the one with “the problem.”

I had a short speech prepared. What I’d told Colin but with details. When Bailey was born, what her birth certificate read, how I’d supported her all this time. These things had seemed important in the light of day when I’d anticipated and dreaded this meeting.

But here, in the dark, with the men settling in and throwing their words above my head, my planned words seemed superfluous, as if the details hardly mattered. Laramie sat across from Colin. Philip served us all drinks, somehow managing to not look the least bit subservient. He served me first, as the lady, I supposed. I brooded into my glass of water while the men were given an amber liquid.

“It looks like he hasn’t filed yet, but that doesn’t mean anything,” Laramie said, finally addressing the case. “These things take time.”

“And you know we’d rather avoid that altogether,” said Philip.

“I understand. I have Roark looking into his background. If we can find something appropriate…” Laramie let the sentence die as he took a sip from the drink Philip handed him.

“That’s risky,” Colin said.

Laramie nodded. “Hard to say how a man’ll react until he’s pressed into a corner. You mentioned paying him off, but that carries its own risks. Technically there’d be no guarantee he wouldn’t file at some future date or press for more money.”

“Oh, he’ll stick to the deal,” Philip said.

Laramie smiled without humor. “There’s persuasion, but you don’t need me for that.”

God, no more violence.
Please.

“She doesn’t want that,” Colin said.

They paused in unison and looked at me.

“Definitely not,” I said. Which seemed to work, because they resumed talking around me, about negotiations and agreements. Riddles cloaked in ordinary words. At least there was no more talk of persuasion.

It was like I’d stumbled into some sort of Mad Hatter’s tea party. I should speak up, I knew. I should advocate for Bailey, but despite the questionable ethics of some of their suggestions, they seemed to have a much better grasp on the possible solutions than I did.

If only Philip would look at me when he talked about me.

Laramie did, giving the occasional sympathetic glance, particularly when he mentioned Bailey specifically. Colin also looked at me with his usual impassivity, though he directed his comments at the other men.

Philip looked at the other men and, on occasion, at the air beside me. Never at me. After Jacob, I’d lost any claim to be a great judge of character, but everything about Philip made me nervous.

I trusted Colin, and he trusted Philip. Colin seemed to think that was enough, but I was starting to realize trust didn’t work by proxy.

Laramie’s eyes caught mine, an apology in them. “This man, did he ever hurt you?”

“What?” The very worst liar in the world, my eyes widened and my hands clenched.

“If he did,” Laramie said carefully, “it would certainly help our case. Give us leverage.”

I stared into his gentle eyes with my mouth open.

“Allie?” Colin said, but I couldn’t look at him.

Laramie was silent, watching me.

I’d thought about confessing all to Colin, but it wouldn’t be like this. I couldn’t possibly bare all my sins, all my shame in this room full of strangers. A room full of men. I was already the gold digger, the slut, the problem. I wouldn’t also be the victim.

Besides, violence had already been discussed once tonight. I didn’t want Jacob hurt, though I wouldn’t let myself think too hard on that. And I certainly didn’t want Colin picking a fight, possibly injuring himself, possibly in trouble with the law. Hurting himself in the process because he thought he needed to fight to keep the people he cared about near him.

“No,” I said.

And then stronger, turning to look at Colin. “No. He didn’t hurt me.”

The lie was a small stab to my stomach, which was good. I deserved no less for deceiving Colin, even if it was for his own good. Or maybe it wasn’t a lie, if I thought of all my date nights. Asking for sex, for pain, in a sick bid for control, but that was an illusion. I’d never had control, and this farce of a consultation only underscored it. Those men hadn’t hurt me, Jacob hadn’t hurt me, not nearly so much as I’d hurt myself.

* * * *

Colin’s house was quiet. After I shut the door behind a groggy Shelly, Colin reached back behind my neck and pulled me in for a kiss. He backed me up right there, the cool wall against my shoulders a contrast from his hot hands gripping my hips and his tongue invading my mouth.

My mind reeled from the earlier conversation. Like the flashing pictures in a slot machine, my emotions ran from guilt to fear to anger. And then frustration with myself. I was getting what I wanted; I should be happy. He pressed his mouth down the side of my neck. Should be happy.

“God,” he muttered. “This dress.”

Pride sparked in me, a welcomed respite. His arousal was thick, insistent. I struggled to catch up as we all but mated in the hallway, minus the intercourse.

Colin’s hand parted my legs and stroked me.

I shut my eyes tight as if I could lock out my thoughts and just feel. His fingers were thick at my entrance, the calluses providing a delicious friction. His body loomed large around me, shielding me from the outside world. His lips on mine were hot and hungry.

I slickened below, just a bit. Thank God. I could do this.

I wasn’t quite ready. Not physically. I was barely wet; nothing close to what Colin could bring me to, drenched and supple. Not mentally. My mind was still running replays from earlier. I wasn’t in the mood right now, and my body had only begun to recognize what Colin wanted.

Colin shook with his arousal. He intimidated me with it, looking angry and intense, though I knew by now that was eagerness. I tugged him up the stairs, past the room where Bailey slept, and into his bedroom—our bedroom—and shut the door. I slipped off my panties and kicked them aside, then bent over the bed and looked back. He understood. With quick, jerky movements, he lifted my skirt and entered me.

I gasped as his cock stretched me. He paused. I wanted to do this for him. I needed to. I tilted my hips back to allow him deeper access, accepting the sharp pain without further sound.

He pulled out, almost completely, and then rammed back in. My teeth gritted together and my fingers whitened on the bedspread, but I would take it. He grabbed my shoulders and set up a rhythm of deep, punishing thrusts. He seemed lost in his pleasure, unable to notice my confusion, which I was grateful for. The air was too thick to breathe. My thoughts too murky to pierce. I didn’t think I could talk—or orgasm, for that matter—if he had wanted something more than my compliance.

Colin flipped me over. I spread my legs wide, and he entered me again with deep, rooting thrusts. He slammed into me, pushing me up the bed. His wrists were beside my shoulders, and I reached up to grasp them, to anchor myself.

The pillow smashed between my head and the headboard. It was just a pillow. A soft pressure, especially considering the force of Colin’s thrusts. But it triggered something in me, something hard.

Cold washed over my body. My skin prickled into goose bumps. My nipples were oversensitive, abraded against his chest. My cunt felt sore, like pulverized meat. My clit felt smashed under the thrusts of his pubic bone.

I made no move to stop the sex. This was just a way for my body to service his. My discomfort was small and well earned.

He noticed, though, and reached down to touch my clit. I jumped. “No. Don’t,” slipped out.

His hand stilled, and he slowed his hips to a gentle rocking. “What’s wrong?”

“Just keep going.”

He narrowed his eyes. “Something’s wrong.”

“Don’t worry about it. Just…just finish.”

Damned if the man wasn’t as contrary as I was. He froze, still inside.

“Tell me,” he demanded.

“It’s nothing.” As if we could have an actual conversation while his stiff cock was still lodged deep inside me. “Just do it.” I put a challenge in my voice and my eyes. “Fuck me.”

I knew he wanted to by the way his hips rocked forward as if testing the waters. Coming up dry, he pulled out and sprawled across the bed, catching his breath.

I felt hot and cold at the same time. And raw. As if the physical barricades had been burned away, leaving me exposed. Helpless. All I could think about was ending this night so we could get back to normal—at least our version of normalcy.