Fallen Angels: Beguiled\Wanton\Uncovered (32 page)

Rolling to his back and propping his arms behind his head, he stared at the ceiling. Light from the bathroom cast long shadows and showed a fading watermark directly over his head.

He'd known, sooner or later he'd have to tell her if he slept with her. Not that she needed an entire accounting of his life, no one did. But intimacy in the sack brought about other intimacies. And Celia was a curious woman, always digging in where she shouldn't be. If the situation were reversed, if she'd tried to hide aspects of her life rather than presenting herself as an open book, he'd already have gotten into her personal file at Dane's office, or he'd have run a check on her. But Celia wasn't a natural snoop, and the thought never would have occurred to her to invade his privacy.

One reality touched his tired brain: knowing would likely disgust her and put the distance he needed back between them. Not a physical distance, because he planned to keep her right where she was until he got the ache out of his system and could think rationally again. But the emotional distance was something he needed, and knowing a bit about his past ought to accomplish it. That alone was reason enough to tell her.

He sighed again, then said with no emotion, no inflection whatsoever, “Not anymore. She's dead.”

Alec had half expected her to leap from the bed, or to curse him. Knowing Celia, he'd definitely expected some sort of volatile reaction. All he got was a heavy silence that felt like an anvil sitting on his windpipe, before she turned and cuddled up at his side. Surprised, he hesitated, then put one arm around her and prayed she wouldn't start crying. He really hated it when she cried.

“Did you love her?”

Alec stilled. Shit, he hated questions like that. He'd rather deal with a tear or two. “Celia…”

“You must have,” she whispered, her voice low and reverent, filled with tenderness, “to put something permanent on your body.” With one finger, she lightly traced the faded heart on his arm. “Right here, where the color's kind of smudged…did you have her name removed?”

Her name, but the memory had lingered, so overall it'd been a wasted effort. “Yeah.”

“Why didn't you have the whole thing taken off?”

He glanced down at her. Her bare body curled against his, one slender thigh over his thicker, hairier one, her belly pressed up against his hip. Her skin was so fair against his darker body. He felt the renewed stirrings of desire and wanted to end the conversation as quickly as it had started.

With a hot look, he told her, “It hurt like hell, having the thing lasered off, so I took off what I had to and figured to hell with the rest.” As a warning he added, “No one ever asks me about it.”

“Why did you have to have her name taken off?”

He looked away in disgust, his temper starting on a low boil. Celia heeded his warnings with as much caution as the wall might. “Look, Celia, why don't we talk about this some other time?”

“Because I know you won't. Please, Alec?”

Damn, he both hated and loved the way she asked him so nicely whenever she really wanted something. Her softly spoken words had the effect of bringing his body to full attention; there was no way she could miss his blatant erection.

She didn't. Her hand crept down his belly, stroking the line of dark hair there, paused to toy with his navel for an excruciating moment, then continued on until she curled her small fist around him. His stomach muscles felt like iron, he was strung so taut.

Without inhibition, she explored him, softly cupping his testicles, petting his rigid length, letting her thumb stroke over the very tip of him…Alec ground his teeth together.
Talk about torture…

“All right. I had her name taken off right after she died because I…Well…”

It wasn't like him to stumble over his words and he resented her for making him do so now. He turned, grabbed both her hands and pinned them over her head. Looming over her, his frown fierce, he barked, “So you want all the gory details, do you?” Her eyes widened, and she held her breath. “All right.”

Celia bit her bottom lip. “Alec—”

“My wife was the town slut.” He stared down at her, refusing to let her look away. She'd pushed for details and now she could just deal with them. “Like most guys ruled by hormones, the first time I got laid, I stupidly mistook lust for love.”

He had to laugh at his own idiocy. Telling Celia about it should have made him uncomfortable, but their circumstances—naked in a bed after having just made love—superseded all other emotion. He wanted the telling through so he could have her again. And again and again, until the wanting went away. He didn't like wanting her; anytime he'd wanted someone, it had ended up hurting like hell. His jaw locked with that pathetic thought and self-loathing filled him. He was a grown man now, and he'd long since learned to take life for what it was, without the illusions. Maybe it was time Celia learned, too.

“I'd had a less than sterling home life after my mother died of ovarian cancer. My old man had run off on us when I was just a little kid, so my grandfather ended up with me. The old guy tried, I'll give him that, but we didn't have much in the way of luxury, and I was already mad as hell at the world. I didn't make things easy on him. Whenever I'd push him too hard—and I was always real good at pushing—he'd get out a birch rod. The old coot had a hell of a swinging arm.”

Big, horrified tears welled up in Celia's eyes and Alec shook her, saying through his teeth, “Don't you dare cry for me, Celia. I never got a damn thing that I didn't deserve. Except maybe my wife.”

Celia started to speak, but he didn't want to hear anything she had to say. Knowing Celia and her soft heart, she'd try pitying him first, then cajoling, then comfort. He didn't want any of it. He wanted to be inside her again so he could forget everything else in the explosive pleasure.

Loosening his hold on her arms, he said, “She had a similar background to mine, but with her, it was a stepfather to contend with, a real mean son of a bitch that I used to dream about punching out. Of course I never did, but the fantasy was sweet. And if he hadn't run off when he did, I might have eventually gone after him. Marissa celebrated with me the day he skipped town. She dragged me down by the river and went wild over me. That was the first night we had sex.

“I rebelled over my life by being a jerk, but Marissa rebelled by taking any kind of
love
she could get, from any guy who'd give it. I felt sorry for her at first, because she was one pathetic kid, then lovestruck after she gave me my first taste of a female's body. She was experienced enough to know exactly what she was doing, and with almost no effort, she turned me inside out. I let her become my whole focus. I thought she'd change, that I could make her life happy again, that she'd be content just being with me.”

He laughed, the sound a little too raw for his liking. “Turned out I was just one more guy in a long line of idiots.”

Celia turned her head to stare at the tattoo, the tears now clinging to her lashes. She gave a small, delicate sniff as she fought off the tears, but otherwise was quiet. Alec guessed she'd gotten more in the way of a story than she'd bargained for. He hadn't intended to go into so much detail. The words had just sort of come out, against his will.

He brushed her tears away with his thumbs, then continued. “As soon as we graduated high school, I started making plans for us to get married. I got a job working a construction site, saved as much money as I could, and right before we turned nineteen, we eloped. To me, to the young stupid kid I was back then, that marriage was forever.”

Celia's eyes searched over his face, intent and filled with sadness. “Because you loved her.”

His laugh was genuine this time. “Love? I don't think so, babe. Hell, no nineteen-year-old knows what he's thinking or feeling, especially when he's only thinking with his gonads and not his brains. I thought I could make a difference, thought I could
save
her. But she straightened me out quick enough. Like your little Hannah, she wanted fame and fortune real bad. She was always talking about us moving away, but I could barely keep us afloat, much less consider packing up and heading out.

“One day I came home from a twelve-hour shift to find a note saying she'd gone to visit a friend in Chicago. It wasn't until the next day that I found out she'd emptied out the savings account, not that we had much, but it would have been enough to pay the bills that were due. I had no idea where she'd gone, or where to find her. It took me awhile to track her down and by the time I caught up to her a couple of months later, she was strung out on dope and didn't hesitate to tell me she liked the city life a lot more than anything I could offer her.”

He got quiet, remembering despite himself. With the memory came the feelings of helplessness, of betrayal. They'd buried themselves deep in his soul and he'd never been able to shake them off. Celia touched his jaw and he admitted, “She was living with three people—two of them men.”

Pressed up against him so tightly, Alec felt her quickly drawn breath, the way she stiffened. “Oh no. Alec, what did you do?”

He grinned evilly. “I beat the hell out of both the guys, though I had no idea which one was for her. Hell, maybe they both were. Knowing how insatiable she always was, I wouldn't have put it past her. The cops got called, I got arrested, and she told me she was going to file for a divorce. I felt so damn sick, I didn't even care. Right then, at that moment, standing in that crowded police station knowing all those uniforms felt sorry for me and that they were thinking what an ass I was to have ever fallen for her in the first place, I almost wanted to kill her myself. I did tell her to stay the hell out of my life.”

Celia wrapped her arms tight around him in a near choke hold. “She was wrong, Alec. But don't you see? She didn't know any better—”

“Like your Hannah?” He grabbed her arms to pull her loose, but she was like a damn spider monkey, clinging tight.

“No!” Celia leaned back to look in his eyes, but didn't loosen her hold on him. He didn't want to hurt her, so he had to give up on prying her loose and let her squeeze on him all she wanted. “Hannah wants help, Alec. She's not like that. Her circumstances didn't drive her away, only her bad judgment did.”

“Don't worry, sweetheart.” He gave her a twisted smile that he knew damn good and well wouldn't reassure her one bit, but it was the best he could offer at the present. “Just because I couldn't do a damn thing for my wife doesn't mean I'll leave little Hannah behind. You and I made a deal, and I'll hold up my end of the bargain. I just wonder if she'll thank you in the end.”

His cold tone must have disturbed her, for she shivered and said, “Alec? What happened to your wife? You told me she died.”

“Yeah.” He removed every bit of inflection he could from his tone, not wanting to give anything away, not wanting her pity, or even her understanding. “One month after I walked away without even trying to bring her home, she died. Overdosed during a party with her upscale friends. She never did get that divorce, so they called me, and when I went to see her body…”

His voice trailed off and he closed his eyes, but he could still plainly see her, how ravaged she'd looked, how thin and old.
Jesus.
Her life in the big city had taken its toll. And Alec had never quite forgiven himself for not trying harder to bring her around. It had seemed from the time she was born, she hadn't had a snowball's chance in hell of surviving. Like so many other people, he'd just given up on her. No matter what he told Celia, no matter what excuses he had, he'd let her down.

He knew now he'd never loved her, but he had felt sorry for her and he still did. He'd had a responsibility to her, one that he'd conveniently forgotten when his pride got bruised. Some days he felt so guilty he could taste it.

In so many ways, he felt sorry for Hannah, too, for being gullible and naive and vulnerable. But he didn't want to get involved again. He hadn't saved his wife, so why should he save anyone else? If it weren't for Celia insisting…He hadn't realized his arms had tightened on Celia again until she moved.

She kissed him. “Shhh. I'm sorry I made you dredge that all up.”

“I was behind on all my bills after the money she'd taken. I was barely able to catch up, and then she died and I couldn't afford a funeral. My grandfather didn't have any money, and her mother couldn't have cared less. She was off with a new man by then.” He closed his eyes. “I had to let the state bury her…”

“Alec.” Celia kissed him, giving him so much in the touch of her mouth to his.

In near desperation, Alec cupped her face, holding her still while he took over, while he kissed her hungrily. Celia made him feel stronger and weaker than any other person he'd known. She stole his strength, but gave it back to him in spades.

He opened his mouth against her neck, drawing the skin in against his teeth, moving his mouth down to suck voraciously at her nipples. She groaned, surprised at his urgency, but still responsive as ever. He muttered, his tone thick and dark, “Just give me this, Celia. It's all I want. Just this…”