Love Me Like That (17 page)

I take another glance at the half empty bottle of whiskey across the room. “I started drinking after the funeral and never really stopped. Savannah’s been gone a year and a half.”

She frowns, but the look is more of sympathy and pity rather than disappointment in my inability to get my shit together. I don’t know which one is worse. The pity over my situation is what I’m most familiar with, but I don’t like it coming from her. I don’t want to seem weak in her eyes. Maybe that’s why I haven’t been drinking.

You don’t need the alcohol when you’re around her.

The thought slams into my head, and now it’s my turn to frown. Am I such a glutton for punishment and so used to my pain and grief that it unnerves me that another woman has the ability to make me feel less broken? I should be smiling and rejoicing that the last couple of days with London have been better than every single day of the last eighteen months since Savannah passed away.

Being happier feels like a betrayal. It shouldn’t, according to the counselor I attempted to see shortly after the accident. Natural progression, she called it. The one session I went to came on the heels of one of the worst breakdowns I’d had to date. I nearly drank myself into a coma after I caught myself laughing at some dumb ass sitcom on the TV. What kind of husband was I if I could forget my grief even momentarily long enough to laugh at some shitty TV show?

I’ve practically maintained the drunken haze since, and I got rid of all of the TVs in the house. No sense in tempting fate. I’ve since purchased one, but I only have it on in the background for noise when I drink.

“I haven’t seen you drink in a few days,” she says, vocalizing my same thoughts.

We both look over at the liquor cabinet. I wait for the urgency that I normally feel when I see a bottle of liquor to hit. It never does.

“Haven’t really needed it.” I wink at her; she seems unaffected.

“So, Spokane huh?”

I guess now she’s ready to talk about staying with me. I know she’s upset from earlier. Her demeanor changed the second I mentioned the guest room. What was I supposed to say? There’s no way I can explain to her that the idea of not just her but any woman staying in the room I shared with my wife makes my stomach turn. The more I think about it, the more fucked up I realize my whole situation is.

“Yeah, I mean I have a condo, and it is way too big for just me. You’re more than welcome to stay there until you find something of your own.” I attempt another sip of coffee, smaller this time. It still burns my already injured tongue.

“That’s very generous of you, Kadin, but I don’t expect anything else from you. Sheltering me during the blizzard goes above and beyond already.”

Ouch, that unexplainably hurts a bit.

I chuckle and shake my head.

“What’s that reaction for?” She asks and nudges my shoulder with her own.

“I was also going to tell you that I have a job for you if you’re interested.” I look sideways at her to check her reaction to the bit of information.

“A job?” She snorts. “Doing what?”

I shrug. “I need a new assistant.”

She almost rolls off of the couch she’s laughing so hard. I love her laugh. It’s throaty and rough, not very feminine at all. I smirk at her reaction even though I have no clue why offering her a job would be considered hilarious.

“Is this when you tell me that I’ll be bringing you coffee and sucking you off under your desk?” Her smile is from ear to ear even though her words aren’t one bit funny. At least to me they’re not.

“I’m serious, London.” My voice is hard, and it sobers her up immediately. “My assistant is about to pop, and she has no intentions of returning to work after the baby is born.”

“Oh,” she says, and her cheeks pink as she grows embarrassed from her reaction.

“Now,” I say to lighten the mood. “If you want me to fuck you over my desk it will have to be before or after working hours. Unless you’re interested in a quickie during lunch.” I nod at her teasingly.

“Oh, yes. Of course. No fucking on desks during business hours.” She’s grinning again.

We grin at each other for a long moment and the air around us grows thick with sexual anticipation.

“Seriously, London. The job and the room are yours if you want them. No pressure on either one. But I will say that I’d rest easier knowing you weren’t at some hotel or shitty apartment while you looked for work and a decent place to stay.” I set my coffee cup on the table and rest my back against the arm of the sofa.

She sets her coffee down also, and I prepare myself to take her to my chest. I frown when she mirrors my actions and places her back against the sofa arm opposite of me. We just watch each other. Studying the other in silence.

The silence I’m used to. I’m comfortable alone. It’s only when I get around others, and the expectation of conversation sits heavy on my shoulders that I grow uncomfortable. London is the opposite of me. She loves to talk and be around others. She said as much herself once. Right now? Right now she seems just as content to sit here with me and not say a word.

I don’t even want to contemplate the reasons I got upset when Kadin mentioned coming back with him then dropping the ‘guest room’ bomb. It shouldn’t bother me. Sex. That’s all this is. Tell that to my broken heart; the same muscle that Trent destroyed and has no signs of healing anytime soon.

I wish he would’ve said something about it before now. I wish he hadn’t wrapped his arms around me and whispered in my ear, and more than ever I wish he hadn’t been so wonderful earlier. The lines got incredibly blurry when he kissed and stroked my scars, telling me I’m beautiful and perfect.

I watch him warily from the opposite end of the couch. He’s incredibly good looking. Nothing like Trent. Don’t get me wrong, Trent is a great looking man, but he’s not the type of guy when you see him on the street he makes you miss a step and dampen your panties at the same time. Kadin is the kind of man that makes your mouth hang open, and you forget basic skills like speech and breathing.

Trent is lanky and has long lean muscles. Kadin? Well, Kadin is a mythical wonder. He’s just a tad shorter than Trent, but still much taller than I am. It seems every inch of his body is covered in hard, compact muscle. He’s got wide shoulders and a strong back that tapers at his waist; all of that is awesome, but it’s his gorgeous face and the way he carries himself that drew me in from the first look.

He seems cocky, and an air of indifference surrounds him, almost as a warning to others. The sunlight from the window glints off of his hair making it seem more auburn than the rich mahogany I know it is. His warm chocolate eyes focus on my face, and I wonder if he’s trying to read me like I’m attempting to do to him.

“Your hair looks red in this light.” My words are the first spoken for at least twenty minutes of our stare-fest.

He rolls his eyes up like he can see the hair on his head from that angle. “I was born a ginger,” he says with a laugh. “My hair didn’t start to get darker until Jr. High.”

“I have a thing for gingers.” I wink at him. “I bet you were adorable with red hair.”

He huffs. “Where were you back then?”

I grin at him, clearly not the fondest of memories for him. “That bad?”

He nods. “No love for the ginger kids at Lincoln Jr. High.”

“You turned out okay.” I over exaggerate my motions as I run my eyes up and down his body and biting my lip for emphasis.

“Not all of us were born beautiful, London.” He’s grinning and the sentiment, albeit way off base makes me melt a little.

“I was the girl always in the shadows. No one noticed me, and I liked it that way.” I point to my chest. “Virgin until college remember?”

His eyes grow dark, no doubt remembering exactly how my pesky v-card was cashed in. Change of subject needed very quickly.

“I would have noticed you. I’m certain.” His voice is smooth and filled with sensual innuendo.

“You think so, huh?”

“Did you have those?” He raises his hand up and points back and forth at my breasts.

I look down at them and back to him, noting the mischievous grin on his face.

“Yes, those showed up super early for me.”

“If you had tits like that in Jr. High I guarantee not one boy in that entire school didn’t know who you were.” His face is serious, so sure that what he says is fact. “You’re lucky if they never said anything to you. The dickhead boys in my school were so horny all the time, raging hormones they had no clue what to do with; they usually picked on the girls they wanted the most.”

“I wore loads of baggy clothes. I was embarrassed by them. I did my best to hide them,” I explain.

“That’s a damn shame.” I notice his eyes are fixated on my chest. I clear my throat, and he’s cognizant enough to raise his eyes to mine.

“What about you, Kadin?” I raise an eyebrow at him.

“What?”

“What did you notice first?”

“Honestly?” He reaches to the side and grabs my foot, massaging it over my sock. I nod. “You were in your car, so I noticed your eyes first. They’re incredible, but I also saw pain. It’s like even without knowing you, I felt like I knew you. That probably doesn’t make sense.”

“Makes perfect sense,” I say honestly.

He smirks. “When you got out of the car I forgot all about your eyes when I saw that glorious ass of yours!”

I laugh at the animated way he uses his hands to cup upward in the air like he’s got two hands full of my ass. “An ass man I take it?”

“All day long!”

I open my mouth to speak but his phone rings. I watch as he pulls it from the pocket of his sweats. Glancing down at it, he springs off the couch and is heading out of the den. “Excuse me,” he says just before answering. “Hey, Lisa. I’m glad you called.”

Lisa?

I begin to wonder if she’s part of the shit storm he mentioned going on in Spokane, but stop my thoughts almost as immediately as they begin to rear their ugly little heads. None of my business. Except he’s asked me to stay. He offered to let you stay, not asked you to move in. Big difference. The end result is the same. The last thing I need is to go back and be planted right in the middle of his drama. I have enough issues on my own; I have no need to go looking for trouble.

I get off the couch and leave the den, passing him in the hall. He stops talking as I approach. I place my clasped hands to the side of my head giving him what I hope he reads as the universal sign for going to sleep and hit the stairs, suddenly tired and in need of a nap. If anything, I need to gain a little distance from him.

I feel like I just shut my eyes when a knock sounds on the door. I wanted to climb into his bed and bury myself in the covers that smell like him, but I turned right at my room instead of left at his, forgoing his room and choosing the guest room. It’s where he expects me to be in Spokane, might as well get used to it. I sound bitter, and I’m well aware of it. I don’t love the man. Seriously it’s only been like five days, but apparently I’m incapable of having sex with someone without the lines muddling themselves.

I ignore the annoying tap and turn over in the bed thinking he would take a hint. He doesn’t. I didn’t hear the door open, but I feel the bed dip at my back just a short time later. Then the breeze from the covers being lifted. I almost complain, thinking he’s lifting the covers to annoy me, but then I feel the warmth of his body against my back and the ghost of his breath on the side of my face.