Seductive Shadows (16 page)

How did he know? I used their cell phone for all of my calls so there was plenty they could find out if someone was listening. But not this. I hadn’t shared this with anyone because I hadn’t had time to.

“I received my credit card statement this morning, and on it was a charge for Lilly’s cremation—” I froze, realizing I had said her name, that I had exposed even more of my personal life. But the Doctor’s lips didn’t move. Neither did his eyes or cheeks. I had a feeling the mansion knew my mother’s name, and that the Doctor had already known she’d died even before I told him. His unflappable demeanor only proved that further.

The pain circled again like it had this morning, when I’d seen the fee for turning her body into ashes.
Mom’s
body. It was the only charge on the bill, the only time I had used my card since she wracked up all the debt. It might as well have been printed in her blood.

“How did that make you feel?” he asked.

“Not good.”

“Did it suddenly become more real?”

I nodded.

“And when you saw the company’s name in print, did you relive your decision, and question it as the right thing to have done?”

I nodded again.

“Did you blame yourself, maybe?”

“Yes,” I whispered. “It’s what she wanted, but it didn’t feel right. None of it feels right.”

“I’m sure you’ve heard this before, but it will get easier with time.”

The last person to say that to me was my physical therapist when the full-length cast was removed from my leg. She told me walking would become easier with time, which it did. But the accident had taken Emma, too, and that hadn’t become easier at all.

The flutter had been building since the moment he’d asked if I was finding fulfillment. It seemed to intensify the more we had discussed death. I wanted the thoughts gone. I needed to douse the sensation with my finger…or his. But he seemed so far away and not just in proximity. I didn’t know if I was the only girl he booked time with or if there were others…if he fucked them, or just engaged in conversation like he did with me.

Did he not find me attractive?

I slid my feet to the floor, spread my legs, and played with the buttons of my pajama top, my bra threatening to burst through the gaps between each hole. He straightened in his chair, and his arms crossed over his stomach. My advances didn’t seem like they were enough. I needed to tell him what I wanted.

I walked to his lap and straddled his legs, gently bouncing over the air between us, grinding my hips with each dip. “I want you to touch me.”

“No,” he said. He pushed the chair back a few feet, but he didn’t stand. “This isn’t what you want.”

I stepped toward him again. “Yes, it—”

“You don’t need someone to fuck you. You need someone to listen. I want to be that person for you.”

My hands began to shake. Tears blurred my vision. I swallowed, pushing the saliva down past the knot that had formed. “You don’t want me?”

“No. I don’t.”

Anger boiled in my stomach and shot into my fingers and I drew my arm back, my hands needing to feel the pain and sting from slapping his cheek. As my palm swung toward his face, he grabbed my arm and pulled me into his lap.

“You’re an asshole,” I shouted, sobs wracking my body. “Let go of me.”

He pushed my cheek against his chest and rubbed his hand over my head, starting at my forehead and ending at my neck. Then he did it again. “Just relax and breathe.”

“Screw you.”

“I’m not going to let you go until you calm down. Deep breaths. Please…for me.”

He held me tighter, and I curled in against him. I tucked my knees into my stomach, my body swaying back and forth with his. His words dug further the more I rocked, and with every tear that fell. The droplets never made it past my chin; he wiped away each one before they did.

“I’m not denying you for the reason you think, Charlie. I’m denying you because you need something more in your life…something more than just
this
. You need to feel your emotions and not bury them in sex. You need to forgive yourself, and you need to cry. You need to let go, and then maybe you’ll be able to forgive those who have wronged you. There will come a day when you’ll understand that forgiveness is about you and no one else.” He paused. “Will you think about what I’ve said?”

This was the first time he’d used my real name. I wasn’t surprised that he knew it; I was surprised by his response, the sincerity and honesty in his tone. He really wanted to help me. I didn’t understand why he wanted to give me more, or why he thought I deserved it. Why he wanted me to forgive, and to cry. But I used those questions to calm my anger, to stop my eyes from filling, and to breathe.

“Charlie?”

“Yes,” I said, and I nodded. “I will try.”

He released some of the pressure from his arms. He was no longer holding me against him, but he wasn’t pushing me off his lap, either. I slowly stood and moved over to the bed, crossing my legs after I took a seat. Then I wiped my face with my sleeves.

He scooted his chair back to its original place, at the side of the bed. “Now that we’ve gotten that settled, I want to hear about Cameron’s portrait. How is it progressing? I hope you’re feeling more confident with the piece.”

I exhaled; the tension in my body seemed to leave with the air. I didn’t know if he sensed my concern, but his questions answered my uncertainty. He still cared.

I hadn’t ruined anything.

***

It was just after midnight when Sal walked me downstairs, my mind and body raw from my little breakdown. Maybe it was time to learn how to trust again. Maybe what I needed was a friend. Did I want that, though: friendship…with the Doctor? And was that what he was offering me?

As Sal and I moved outside, I heard something in the distance. Woodlands surrounded the massive property, and a gate hemmed it in; the only sounds I ever heard outside were from nature. But this was a running motor, and it wasn’t from the limo. It was deeper, like a diesel engine, and the rumble got louder with every step I took.

Just before we reached the limo, I found the source: a coach bus, parked on the other side of the house. A pale yellow glow lit up the walkway, revealing shadows that moved from the bus into the mansion. Sal noticed where my attention was, and he blocked my view with his body. Then he hurried me along even faster, opening the door to the limo and ushering me into the backseat in one smooth movement. I didn’t ask him about the bus, who was on it, or why they were entering the house. I didn’t really care; my pussy tingled, and it needed Dallas.

I took a seat, searching through the Charlie-labeled bag, the blacked out windows obstructing my view of anything happening outside. With my cell phone in my hand, I dialed.

“Where are you?” I asked when Dallas answered.

“Home, sleeping. What time is it?”

“I got out of work early; I’m coming over.”

“Not tonight, Charlie. It’s late…I really need my sleep.”

“I’ll see you in twenty,” I said, and hung up.

I wasn’t going to be denied twice.

Dallas answered the door wearing only a pair of boxers. The sides of his hair stood up straight; he had his glasses on and pillow marks covered his cheek. His gestures were slow, a bit delayed…I really had woken him up. But he still looked as sexy as ever, like when he stood under the shower or when he wore the jeans I loved him in. His tattoos were waiting for my nails; his muscles were teasing my tongue.

I stopped in front of him, the top of my head meeting his collarbone, and breathed into his ear. “I need you.” My hands gripped the back of his hair. My nose brushed his chest, traveling between his abs and back up to his neck. 

His hand still held the doorframe; his feet stayed planted. He didn’t close his eyes or moan or touch me anywhere. He had told me not to come over, but he knew me well enough to know I wouldn’t listen. I could deal with his anger and the chase that would follow, but I wasn’t going to be denied. Right now he owned the lower half of my body, and I needed him to claim it. So I reached under the elastic waist of his boxers and gripped his hardness as I bent to my knees.

He exhaled a puff of air through his lips. “Come here,” he demanded. His fingers clenched and released, signaling me to grab them so he could pull me up.

I ignored them, kneeling on the floor instead and pulling the cotton fabric down his legs. When I got mid-way to his thighs, he reached down and pulled them back up. Then he tucked his shoulder into my stomach and lifted me. His hands pushed into my ass while he carried me. I wanted them to tear through my shorts, and my panties.

He placed me on the couch, but remained standing. I reached for him; he pushed my fingers away, and took a few steps back.

“We need to talk.”

I inched to the edge of the couch and reached for him again.

“Did you hear what I said? I want to
talk
to you.”

My fingers found the bottom of his shorts and gently pulled. “I don’t have any words at the moment.” All I had were thoughts, and needs. My eyes focused on the opening of his boxers, and the tiny button that separated us.

He took another step back. “Stop it, Charlie.”

He called me by my name, just like the Doctor had. Why was this happening again?

“What?” I shouted. “Are you denying me?”

“I am until you talk to me.”

It wasn’t just my hands that shook this time; my whole body quivered. My fingers clenched into fists and pushed me off the couch. I moved around him. I didn’t give a shit about what he wanted.

“Screw this,” I shouted. “I came here so I wouldn’t have to talk.”

I felt him behind me, the swish of air as he followed, then his hands were under my armpits. I felt weightless as he turned me around. My back found the wall and his fingers framed my face. The helplessness made me wet. Had I angered him enough for him to become rough now instead of wanting to talk? I hoped so.

I wanted a fucking, not a fucking lecture.

“After my conversations with Lilly,” he said, “I think I understand some of the demons you’ve been struggling with. But there’s something going on with us. I need to know what it is.”

“She has nothing to do with you, or with this.”

“But she has everything to do with
you
—the way you act and the way you feel. What you saw when you grew up. What you think is normal.” He tilted my head upward and stared into my eyes. “You’ve got to give me something.”

Something came over me…suddenly I wanted to do this, for him if not for me. I reached down into my gut, into my very core, and tried to pull up whatever was inside. But it was empty.
I
was empty.

“I don’t have anything to give,” I said.

“You’re not your mom, you know.”

But I was just like her. I didn’t know what Lilly had wanted from those men—if she’d done it for money or alcohol or comfort, or if it had really been just for sex—but they’d all dropped her as soon as they’d gotten what they wanted. I was no different; I fucked for cash at the mansion, men who left when they were finished with me. The ones I had dated before Dallas held me in arms filled with false love. They allowed me small bouts of amnesia so I could lose myself in their strokes for a few hours. Dallas had treated my pussy better than most, which was what kept me interested…kept me wanting more. Because of this, he’d been able to get past the first few layers. But maybe that was just my way of making sure he didn’t leave.

Everyone left, though. Eventually.

And now it was his turn. I knew it; I felt it. And as much as it hurt, it was the right thing. It was the way of my life.
Alone again, Charlie
, I thought.
Always fucking alone
.

“You walked away from me a few months ago because I wanted something more from you,” he said. “And as soon as you needed my help, you came running back.”

“I didn’t have anyone else to ask.”

“Now it seems like you’re only here for my dick.” He shook his head. “What do you want from me…I mean, really
want
?” he asked.

Nobody had ever asked me that before.

I wanted to be more than I felt I was, to be more than Lilly had been. I wanted to be better and to have what she never had. I wanted
him
. But when I opened my mouth to tell him that, nothing came out.

“I don’t know.”

“Well, I do.”

How did the Doctor and Dallas both think they knew what I needed, what I lacked? Was I so fragile, so broken that the cracks could be seen by anyone who looked closely enough?

“I know you’re learning to trust me; you proved that to me with Lilly. And I know you love to fuck me. But Lilly never taught you how to love, and for that I am truly sorry. What you need from me is my friendship, not my cock.”

Dallas was right. He’d given Lilly her medication when I couldn’t; he’d run to my house moments after she died and he’d gone with me to scatter her ashes. He’d held my hand; I’d soaked his shirt with my tears. He was a friend, and me using his sex to stay numb was ruining that. Could I let someone in like that again? Could I even consider allowing myself to get as close to him as I had been to Emma?

I had relied on Emma so much as a kid. Since she’d died, I hadn’t had that feeling of security, of knowing I was loved and never wanting because I was needed, and I missed it. I missed
her
. Dallas would never be Emma, but could I feel for him a little of what I had felt for her…and did I already? He had been pushing me for a friendship since I’d broken things off a few months ago, and I was using his dick to forget.

He was right, and so was the Doctor. I was a mess.

“I’m sorry,” I said.

This was the first time he’d ever heard me say those words, and I truly meant them. The proof ran down my cheeks and slid into my open mouth. Tears were something else he had never caused before. I didn’t know if it came from me forgiving myself or from letting him in, or if it was simply an awakening to some sort of self-love. At that moment, nothing was clear.