Shattered Bonds: Book Seven of Wicked Play (18 page)

His hand stalled in its grazing path across her lower back. His sigh lifted his chest with the preceding inhale before he resumed his caress. “For the most part. I don’t trust that they’re done though.”

“Why?”

“Experience.” He didn’t elaborate, and she let it go. There was no predicting what the vultures would do.

“Noah,” she whispered when his breathing had evened out. His leg twitched as his body shut down to sleep, and she carefully lifted up to confirm that he hadn’t heard her. Still in shadow, she mapped his softened image into her mind. This was the man who’d snuck in to warm her heart in ways she hadn’t expected. “I trust you. Maybe more than I should.”

His skin was warm beneath her cheek when she lowered her head back to his chest. She was so close to falling for him completely. She shouldn’t. She knew that. He had secrets and wants and things she didn’t know if she could give him. But he needed her, too.

The thought of leaving tore a jagged path through her heart. They were supposed to have been nothing more than a consoling hookup, and now she had no idea how she was going to go back to the shabby apartment she shared with an absent roommate that came nowhere close to soothing the disquiet she kept to herself.

Noah was the only who’d done that, and he didn’t even know it.

Chapter Twenty

The welcoming scent of something spicy and delicious hit Noah’s nose the second he opened the back door. He stalled just long enough to take a deep inhale of the fragrant aroma then finished entering his home. The tension that had strung through his shoulders and neck all day had eased some when he’d pulled into his drive and saw the lights warming the interior of his house.

“Hey,” Liv said, peeking around the kitchen doorway. “You’re home early. Good.” Her smile lit up the hallway as she leaned up to kiss his lips then took his briefcase. “I’ll put this in your office. There’s a bottle of wine on the counter if you want to open it for us.”

She was gone on silent feet before he could respond. They’d somehow fallen into an easy routine in the two weeks she’d been staying with him, and he was already dreading the day she left. She wouldn’t need to stay here forever, but he wasn’t bringing it up until she did.

“Are you still standing there?” Her question broke him out of his musings as she returned from his office. “I made chicken parmesan for dinner.” She paused in the doorway. “I hope you like Italian.”

“It’s perfect,” he said when what he really wanted to say was
she
was perfect.

“Good.” She disappeared back into the kitchen, her voice flowing easily out to him. “I thought we’d run by the hospital after dinner then drop in at the club afterwards. I told Allie I’d bring them dinner, so I need to box up to-go containers before we leave.”

Of course she did.

“I also picked up some magazines and cards to bring them. Is Jake still being released tomorrow?” A pause. “Noah?” She appeared in the doorway, salad tongs in hand, a frown on her brow. “What are you doing out here?”

Enjoying her, but he couldn’t say that either. “Come here.”

The lines on her forehead deepened, but she still stepped into the hallway. As soon as she was in reach, he pulled her in for a kiss that was hard and thorough and not even close to satisfying his desire. She went slack in his arms, her mouth opening to let him plunder it until he finally eased up, gasping for air.

Her smile was slow and lazy when she looked up at him under hooded eyes. “Now that was a welcome home kiss.” She snapped the tongs together where they were held aloft near his ear, the double click adding a comedic end to her statement.

He puffed out a laugh and shook his head, his smile easing more of the day’s stress. He kissed her again, a soft press of lips that was tender where the other had been passionate.

“Hi, Liv,” he said when he released her mouth. “How was your day?”

“Good,” she answered with a bit of hesitation. “And yours?” Her brows rose with the question, and he kissed the space between them before he let her go.

“Long. Dinner smells wonderful.”

She gave him a hesitant look but led them into the kitchen. Two plate settings were ready at the bar, and a line of plastic storage containers was laid out on the counter next to the stove. A large bowl of salad was half-distributed into another set of containers, and even more held a collection of shredded cheese, tomatoes, broccoli and cucumbers.

It wasn’t the first time they’d brought dinner to the hospital, yet he was still amazed at the extent she went to ensure everyone got what they wanted.

“You didn’t take orders this time?” he teased lightly before grabbing the corkscrew and opening the wine.

“I asked, but they all said anything was fine.” She shook her head and filled a bowl with lettuce before sprinkling on cheese and tomatoes and setting it by a plate. His plate, he realized. She didn’t like tomatoes.

“Yes,” he answered to her earlier question. “Jake’s still scheduled to be discharged tomorrow.” The wine poured a deep burgundy into the glasses.

“That’s good and bad.”

“Yes.” Splitting up the troops meant upping their vigilance. “A couple of guys from the club agreed to do security shifts at their home until the media dies down.”

“It’s a good thing you live in a private community.”

“Yes. It is.” It usually didn’t matter, but in situations like this, it was damn worth every penny he paid for it. He had more than one high-profile client and even more with secrets he was bound to protect.

She pulled a pan from the oven, the steamy aroma wafting out to encourage his stomach to growl. She smiled at him and plated their dinner. She added a big chunk of warm bread to each plate and placed them on the bar before returning the pan to the oven.

He couldn’t resist giving her another kiss before taking his seat. He was glad she liked eating at the bar as he honestly couldn’t remember the last time his formal dining room had been used. It was before Beth, that much he knew.

They both dug into their meals, the silence comfortable like the rest of their interactions. He waited until they were both almost done before he brought up the subject he was almost positive she wasn’t going to like.

“I was thinking,” he started, watching her reaction from the corner of his eye. “That it would be better if you don’t come to the club with me.” He’d managed to keep her away during business hours since they’d reopened by having her focus on the needs of the hospital crew.

She froze then slowly straightened her back. Warning number one that his intuition was right. She cocked her head to glare at him. And sign number two was in play.

He finished chewing his food before he wiped his mouth and turned to face her. “Yes?”

“Why shouldn’t I come to the club?” Her casual tone that was too pleasant to be true was ping number three.

He kept his sigh to himself and thought through how to word his reasoning to persuade her. She’d take an order like a challenge, and that was the reaction he was trying to avoid. “I was thinking you could help Cali get their home ready for Jake.” That was a viable excuse.

“Already done. Carter, Rock and I took care of it this morning.”

“Took care of what?”

“We stocked her fridge, left a stack of movies, hauled a bed downstairs to the family room and cleared a path to the bathroom.” She shrugged. “That kind of stuff. They should be ready to go.”

“Does Cali know?” He was more than a bit dumbfounded they’d managed all of that and he’d had no clue. He should’ve thought of it.

“Yeah.” She pursed her lips. “I think. I’ll tell her tonight if Carter didn’t this afternoon. So back to the club, there’s no reason for me not to go with you.”

“What about the others? Does someone need a break from the hospital for a bit?”

She leveled an annoyed look at him, grabbed her plate and took it to the sink. “I know what you’re doing, and it’s not going to work.”

The rush of the water drowned out her next words, but he didn’t need to be a lip-reader to understand that she was cussing him out in her squeaky clean way.

He finished the last of his wine and gave up on finishing his food. There was no point in shoving more into a stomach that was churning with the mixed urge to forbid and relent.

He set his plate next to hers on the counter and leaned a hip against it to wait her out. She rinsed all the dishes and stacked everything in the dishwasher with sharp, brisk movements before she shut the door harder than necessary and finally turned to him.

Her cheeks were flushed and her brows were drawn over her eyes. She was ready to do battle. He had an urge to throw her over the counter and spank her ass until she submitted and then came, but he had no right to do that. Plus, she’d probably clock him one, too.

“I’m not some delicate flower you need to protect,” she said on even words that belied the underlying determination defined in her crossed arms and stiff posture.

“I know that.” He tossed around responses in his head and decided to play this one with open honesty that could leave him exposed, if she believed him. “I’m trying to protect myself, not you.”

She dropped her arms and was in his space before he could react. She peered up at him with eyes that searched his for answers he wasn’t prepared to give. He’d already said too much. “What do you need protecting from?”

You
. His first answer wouldn’t work though, so he went for his second. “I claimed you in front of some of the Doms who are now working at The Den. You shouldn’t be at the club without me at your side, and I can’t take care of The Den and worry about you, too.”

“So I’m a liability to you if I’m there with you?”

“Yes.” More than she understood. Having her at his side as his in that environment would be too close to the very thing he was skirting around and still uncertain if he could do.

She glared at him for another heartbeat before turning away to pull the pan from the oven. “Do you need to change before we leave?” She kept her focus on her task, her movements brisk like before.

He rubbed his brow, but there was nothing he could do to take the sting out of the truth. He couldn’t have her at the club as his sub. Fuck, he shouldn’t have her as anything, period. But that desire was growing almost impossible to resist.

Did she even want to be his in any capacity, let alone his submissive? Did he want that himself?

His shoes tapped an even rhythm over the hardwood down the hall and up the stairs until he reached his bedroom, where he sat on the bed, slipped them off, then neatly tucked them into the shoe shelf in the closet. He selected black slacks and a black silk shirt from the racks. That was the extent of his Dom wardrobe. He hadn’t needed the outfits when he’d had no desire to be a Dom.

He stalled in the doorway to his closet, taking in the space that was now stamped with Liv. The vestiges of her invasion were scattered around his room in a tale of haphazard care and forgotten frivolities. A pair of jeans was tossed over the back of the chair, along with a shirt or two. His dresser top was scattered with hairbands and earrings, a stack of T-shirts and a pile of panties in an array of colors that made him smile. For some reason, they never made it back into her suitcase, which sat open and overflowing in the corner.

The nightstand on her side of the bed—her side—was littered with an empty glass, a dog-eared paperback and a box of tissues, complete with a few used ones peeking out from behind it where she’d tossed them on the stand.

He stared at the upheaval until his hands started to shake and his skin turned clammy. Not from anger or frustration the way the sight would’ve once made him, but because he wasn’t. There was nothing wrong with the state of his room. Liv’s stamp was all over it, and he could only think of how cold it would be once her stuff was gone.

Once she was gone.

* * *

Liv curled herself into the chair, half-listening to the drone of the television across the waiting room and the low conversations going on. The corner space was now officially theirs. The staff didn’t even bother to clean up or move any of their things. One chair was currently stacked with a pile of pillows and blankets. Another held a bag of games and books. Their numbers flexed, but there were always at least two people there during the day.

It was Allie, Kendra’s parents and her right now. Kendra’s siblings had returned to Chicago last week, but Emily was supposed to be back tomorrow. They’d dropped Cali and Jake’s food off in his private room in a different wing before coming here, and Noah had taken Deklan and Seth their food and not returned. She assumed he had business to discuss with the men and wasn’t simply avoiding her. The assumption did little to soothe the hurt that nurtured her growing doubt.

Allie picked awkwardly with her left hand at her meal, even though Liv had cut the chicken into bite-sized pieces for her. The cast on her right arm was cumbersome beneath the sling and seemed to shrink her. Or maybe that perception was because of the weight she’d lost. Already thin, her cheeks were now hollowed and gaunt, giving her a malnourished look under the mop of curls she hadn’t tried to contain since the accident.

The questions were all right there on the tip of Liv’s tongue.
Are you okay?
Is there any improvement in Tyler?
Have you heard from your family?
Your law firm?
She didn’t ask them though. They wouldn’t help Allie.

So instead she asked, “Do you want to talk?”

Allie looked up, her stare blank before she blinked and focused on Liv. “About what?” There was true confusion in her voice.

“Whatever you want.” Liv shifted to take the weight off her numb butt cheek.

Allie’s brows drew down, enhancing her lost look. “I wouldn’t know where to start.” The spark of defiance and fun that was Allie was so far gone that Liv wondered if it would ever return. “What if Tyler doesn’t wake up tomorrow?” Her hand started to shake, and Liv reached over to gently remove the fork from her clutch.

She sat next to Allie, slipped her hand in as a replacement for the utensil and kept the wince to herself when Allie clamped down on her fingers.

“Then you stay positive and keep hounding him until he does,” Liv said.

“And Kendra?” Allie’s voice cracked before she pressed her lips together.

Over Allie’s shoulder, Liv caught the eye of Kendra’s mother, who gave a tentative smile back. The plan was to bring Tyler out of his medically induced coma tomorrow. It was still unknown when they’d try with Kendra. The doctors said her brain swelling needed to decrease more before they could safely attempt it.

“Don’t borrow trouble.” Liv put her arm around Allie and gave her a soft shake. “We’ve got enough of it without digging for more.”

That got a sarcastic snort that sounded more like Allie. “Isn’t that the truth.”

“Jake’s heading home tomorrow. That’s a good sign. One down, two left to heal and get the heck out of here.”

“And then what?” Her eyes were haunted with anxiety when she met Liv’s. “What if Tyler never walks again? Or Kendra has brain damage? Then there are our jobs and the families who’ve disowned us and the public who’s judged and persecuted us. What then?”

Liv stared hard at her friend. “You do what you usually do.”

“What’s that?”

“You tell me. This can’t be the first pile of crap you’ve navigated in your life, so what have you done in the past when the crap gets this deep?”