Last Kiss (21 page)

“I told you to stay.”

He’d used that voice, that one that rasped with demand. That one that turned my insides into jelly and made my pussy throb. That one I couldn’t even dream of denying.

But I
had
to deny it. I had to be strong.

“Reeve…” It was a plea, but I didn’t know what I was asking for. For him to let me leave? Yes. But, also, no. Because no matter how much I believed that was the right thing to do, I didn’t want to beg for that. It was one thing to walk away. It was quite another to ask him to send me. And I couldn’t do that – could I?

It didn’t matter. He wouldn’t listen if I could.

“Turn around,” he commanded, and like a trained performer, I did.

I kept my eyes down, studying the tile beneath his feet. Unglazed ceramic-like throughout the rest of the house, but there were more grays and dark browns in the flooring here, while the flooring elsewhere stuck to the color of sand.

“Look at me, Emily.”

I lifted my gaze, slowly, as if it were heavy, as if the weight of it took all my strength to hoist. In reality, I just knew what I’d find when I raised my eyes high enough, and that knowledge made me hold the reins and sent shivers down my spine. Shivers of fear because I didn’t want to see what he wanted to show me. Shivers of anticipation because I didn’t want to see anything else.

Then I was there, staring at his bold erection, the towel abandoned on the floor at his feet.

My breath slid out in a slow sigh. Just the sight of him, naked and hard in front of me, and I was instantly aroused. My nipples tightened and rose into sharp peaks, and the thin cloth at my crotch felt damp and oppressive. And the night that had felt almost too cool just a moment before was suddenly hot and stifling.

Reeve brought his hand down and slid it down his length before circling it at the base of his cock. “Watch me,” he said in that tone that forced me to comply. That voice that wasn’t even necessary because I was already glued, my focus cemented to his rhythmic stroke.

“Should I tell you what I’m imagining while I do this?” His voice was like an intruder, an unwanted narrator in an already hard-to-watch scene.

I couldn’t look away. I couldn’t move. But I could manage one faint word. “No.”

“I think I should.” His teasing had an edge of cruelty that ratcheted up my desire another ten degrees. “Don’t you want to know what gets me this hard? What kind of thoughts?”

“No. I don’t.” More than anything I wished that I meant it.

“Hmm. I don’t believe you.” His hand slowed, this time tugging all the way to his crown where his palm rubbed across a drop of pre-cum before sliding down his length again.

God, it was so hot. And the door was wide open. Anyone could come in.
She
could come in. What kind of person was I to be even more turned on by that possibility?

“You want to watch,” he said, his stroke adopting a lazy tempo. “But you’re not sure if you want me to say I’m thinking of you while I’m touching myself. Or if you want me to say I’m thinking of Amber. That’s it, right?”

I shook my head, unable to even say
no
anymore.

“Well, this might be a disappointment. But I’m not thinking about Amber.” He took a step toward me and automatically I took one back. “I’m not imagining her lips wrapped around my cock.” Another step toward me, another away from him. “Or her tight pussy milking me to orgasm. It’s not her blond hair I’m picturing twisted in my hand.”

His stride sped up, and each step pushed me back, back, back until I hit the wall behind me and couldn’t go any farther.

He gave a smug smile that reminded me of a cat about to pounce on a caged canary. “It’s not Amber making that sweet little sound in the back of her throat.”

I shuddered every time he said her name, my eyes darting to the open door, half-expecting to find her standing there, half-disappointed when she wasn’t.

“That soft one that’s completely a cry of pleasure but it’s so near the sound of pain – you know which one I’m talking about. Do you even notice when you make it?”

Was I making that sound now? I had no sense of myself anymore. All I knew was everything about this moment was pure torture.

“It’s not Amber begging for me to be inside her.”

I dropped the pill bottles to the floor and slammed my hands over my ears. “I’m not listening to this.”

He was only a few feet from me now, but he halted abruptly. “Put your hands down.” The teasing edge had vanished and was replaced with bitterness. “Or I’ll tie them behind your back.”

It was meant to be a punishment, and it was, only the punishment was not in the threat, but in how difficult it was to deny him.

“Don’t touch me,” I begged. “You
can’t
touch me.”

“I can’t?”

I shook my head, fiercely this time, even though it didn’t matter how furiously I protested – if he wanted to touch me, he would. And it wouldn’t ever be nonconsensual, no matter how many times I said no, because he and I both knew that, despite my objections, I wanted him to touch me. More than anything.

He closed nearly the entire distance between us. “You don’t mean that. You don’t mean to tell me what I can and can’t do with what belongs to me.”

My entire body went weak. If I hadn’t had support behind me, I would have collapsed.

He placed a forearm on the wall next to my head and leaned in so that his mouth was only an inch away from my ear. “Tell me I’m right.”

I swallowed, my eyes watering. “Yes.”

“Good girl.” His lip curled up. With one arm still braced on the wall, he glanced down between us where his other hand continued to jerk himself off. “For being such a good girl, I’m going to give you a reward. I’ll let you stop worrying about what I’ll do to you. I’m not going to touch you. I’m not going to fill your mouth with my cock even though I could. You know I could. I’m not going to squeeze your breasts or stick my fingers in your cunt. I’m not going to lick swirls around that pretty little clit.”

Each word out of his mouth pinched and bruised and slapped. I ached for the touch he talked about, the physical touch he’d denied thus far. And I knew him well enough now to understand that he wouldn’t give me anything until I asked for it. That was his secret weapon, what made him different from all the men I’d been with before him – he wouldn’t allow me just to take what he gave. He made me want. He made me accept.

“All I’m going to do is make you watch.” The low rumble of his voice so near my skin made the hair stand up on my neck. “Watch me stroke myself.”

“Stop!” I cried, surprising even myself.

He stilled.

I closed my eyes and tears slid openly down my cheeks. “Please, stop. I can’t do this anymore. You know I’ll do whatever you want me to. You know you have that power, but I’m begging you, please, stop.”

He was silent, but I could feel that he hadn’t moved. Gathering my courage, I opened my eyes again and focused on an imaginary spot behind his ear. “If you keep on doing this,” I said, my voice choked, “she’s going to find out that we still have feelings for each other and it’s going to break her. And that will break me. And not in the way you want me to be broken.”

It was everything I had laid bare in front of him. What he chose to do with it was up to him. I wouldn’t fight anymore. I couldn’t. This was the last bit of restraint I possessed, and my resolve was quickly deteriorating.

He let another several seconds pass before he lifted his forearm off the wall and then slammed it back down in frustration. “Goddammit, Emily,” he rasped. “I don’t want to lose you.”

“I know. And you couldn’t ever lose me.” Just like Amber could never lose me. “That’s why I’m asking you to let me go.”

He straightened, and I could see the war behind his eyes as he scrubbed his hand over his chin. “No,” he said after several long seconds. “I can’t do that. I’m sorry. I won’t let you go.”

“Reeve…” I wasn’t pleading anymore. I was his to keep or discard as he chose, and he’d decided to keep me.

Except then he went on. “I can’t let you go, but I can continue to give you space. If that’s what you need.”

“And you won’t do this anymore? You won’t come on to me?” I wasn’t sure if I felt optimistic or destroyed.

“I won’t come on to you.” He sounded as ruined as I felt. “Until you say I can.”

“But what if that’s never?”

He met my eyes, and with all the solemnness of a vow, he said, “It won’t be.”

He held my gaze for a moment longer, then turned his back to me and walked toward the bathroom, stooping to pick up the towel he’d discarded on his way.

I didn’t wait a second longer before swiping the bottles off the floor and darting out the door.

My legs shook the entire way to my room. I dumped the pills in the bottom of my suitcase, turned off the light, and climbed into bed fully dressed. A second later, I jumped up and locked my door. Reeve had let me go tonight, but I didn’t trust him to be able to stay away.

To be fair, I didn’t trust myself to stay away either.

Several days passed, and we settled into a manageable routine. I spent most days lounging on the lanai off the wing I shared with Amber, reading terrible scripts that my agent had sent over. If I could book something even halfway decent before I had to be back to the
NextGen
set in August, maybe I’d have a chance at a career that utilized more than just my voice. It was the start of planning for what came next. When I got back to LA. After Reeve.

For now, I avoided him like I had before we’d left the ranch. It was obvious he was avoiding me as well. Amber, on the other hand, tried to spend as much time with him as possible. Fortunately, she didn’t want me around when she did. The two typically ate breakfast together. I had her for lunch. On the few occasions that Reeve joined us for supper, I slipped away early, leaving them to enjoy whatever after-dinner activities they wanted to without me. Then I’d take a swim in the heated pool, the one in the courtyard by the master suite, always sure to disappear to my room before Reeve and Amber finished their meal. I didn’t ever want to know what time She came back to her room. Whether she came back to her room at all.

We’d been on the island almost a week when she finally mentioned the prescription bottles. I’d just closed my computer on the latest script my agent had e-mailed, and I was in a bad mood. Partly because the script had been terrible. Partly because Amber was late coming back from breakfast with Reeve. Partly because I was tired of trying not to think about Reeve, a task I managed with a lot of effort during the daylight hours and didn’t manage at all in the dark, in my room with the door locked, where I thought about him incessantly. And missed him. And pretended I didn’t hear his nightly footsteps on the tile outside or the soft knock on my door or the rattle of my knob.

It was wearing. All of it. Needless to say, I wasn’t sleeping well either.

So when Amber stomped up to my chaise lounge chair, an hour after she usually returned from breakfast, I was already on the verge of snapping.

With no greeting, she said, “You found my pills.” It was already an accusation, her tone blatantly confrontational.

I slid my sunglasses down my nose and peered up at her. “
Your
pills? They didn’t have your name on the label.”

Her sigh reminded me of a snotty teenager, tired of her overbearing parents. Or of an addict who’d ran out of believable excuses. “Buddy gave them to me.”

I took off my sunglasses and gave her a look that clearly said
tell me what I don’t know
. When she didn’t volunteer anything, I asked, “In exchange for what?”

Another sigh. More exasperated than the first. “Does it matter?”

“It does. He might be working for Vilanakis. He could have killed that dog. Those pills might not even be safe.” Not that they were any safer if they’d come from someone else.

She rolled her eyes, another gesture so teenager-like I was beginning to feel old. “Buddy isn’t working for Vilanakis.”

“How do you know that?”

“Trust me. I know.” Something about how certain she was told me that she’d been a lot closer to Buddy than I’d first imagined. I would have bet money that the favors she’d given in exchange for his pain meds had required her to be on her knees.

Which only added to my foul mood. If she’d genuinely wanted to work things out with Reeve, she shouldn’t have been sneaking around his back, especially not to score drugs when he’d been so committed to help her get clean.

I almost put my sunglasses back on just so I wouldn’t have to look at her anymore.

But then she plopped down on the lounger next to me, her feet planted on the ground so she was facing in my direction. “Anyway,” she said, gentler than before, “that’s not why I brought it up.”

I cocked my head to study her. “Then why did you?” There was only one reason she’d bring them up. If she didn’t think I knew where this was going, she was an idiot.

She shrugged, embarrassed. “I just wanted you to know that I’m not taking them. I didn’t plan on taking them.”

She was earnest and remorseful and my heart went out to her despite the wreckage between us. Throwing my feet over the side of my chaise so I could meet her eye-to-eye, I asked, “Then why did you have them?”

She took a deep breath in and let it out, a much different sigh than the immature ones she’d delivered a moment ago. This one was sincere. It was a woman with a heavy load as she sat down to rest for the first time in a decade.

It took her a handful of seconds to look at me, and a few more before she answered. “Just in case. You know. In case it was too hard.”

“Too hard to what?” I tried to be compassionate but all I could think about was what she’d told me on the roof in Jackson, how she’d called me because she wanted to not live anymore, and if that was her motivation for holding on to those bottles, I needed to know so that I could be good and pissed with her. “Too hard to stay clean? Or stay
alive
?”

She winced as if I’d slapped her. Then, immediately, she was on the defense. “Don’t be hostile with me. I’m trying to be honest.”

I forced myself to take a deep breath of my own. “Sorry. I’m…”
I’m still mad, and I don’t know how to stop being mad.

But anger wasn’t the solution. “I’m worried about you. That’s all.”

“I know.” She reached over to take my hand in hers. “I’m sorry. I really am. Like I said, they were an insurance policy. That’s all. They made me feel safe. I didn’t ever have any intention of using them.”

“Good.” I even mostly believed her. I squeezed her hand. “I’m really glad to hear that.”

She smiled. “And thank you for not telling Reeve.” I furrowed my brow, wondering how she was so sure I hadn’t when she explained. “If you’d have told him, he’d have been the one who brought it up, not me.”

“Good point.” I chuckled down at our joined hands, glad I hadn’t gotten the chance to tell him about the pills after all. Also, a little ashamed for thinking I knew where the conversation was going.

But then she said, “So?”

And I looked up again, my brow raised, even though I knew exactly what she wanted. She’d have to ask. If she were going to be so ballsy, she couldn’t just hint around about it. She’d have to come right out and ask.

And she did. “Can I have them back?”

I considered telling her I’d dumped them already. The lie would be easier. But, instead, I just said, “No.”

“Ha ha. Funny.”

I let her laugh. Because why wouldn’t she? I’d never stood up to her like this before. In fact, I wasn’t sure I’d stood up to her ever.

But when she’d finished her chuckle, I made sure I was completely somber when I said, “I’m not joking. I mean no. You can’t have them.”

She pulled her hand from my lap. “You can’t keep them. They’re
mine
.”

“No. Actually, they’re not. And if you want to refute this with a third party, we can take this up with Reeve.” I was surprised at the confident sound of authority in my tone. And proud.

Amber twisted and sat back in her lounger, her knees up and her arms crossed over her chest. “You’re on his side. Typical.”

Maybe I’d given her too much credit when I’d thought of her as a teenager. This behavior was much less mature. “I’m not on his side, Amber. I’m on your side.”

“I don’t know what the hell crack you’re smoking, but whatever side you’re on, it’s definitely not my side.”

“Then I’m on my side. For once.” I stood up, needing the composure that towering over her gave. “I don’t want you to have those drugs. I don’t want you to destroy yourself little by little, and I don’t want you to have the option
just in case
. Because that would hurt me. A lot.”

She glowered off in the distance, her lips shaped into a pout.

I hated it – hated her being unhappy, hated her being displeased. At me.

But I resisted the urge to run to my room and dig out the bottles from my luggage so I could return them to her and beg for her forgiveness. I’d done that for far too long. It was past time that ended.

“Go ahead and be mad at me if you want,” I said, feeling more courageous as the seconds passed, “but you should remember that this is who you wanted me to be. When you let me go all those years ago, this is who you created. Someone who can stand up for herself.” Sure it had taken until just now to get there, but I still counted it. “If you were expecting anything else, I’m sorry to disappoint.”

She continued to mope. She continued to ignore me.

The longer I stood there, the more my anger dissolved into something kinder, something less assertive. I needed to get out of there. “I’m going to go for a run.” Again, I waited for her to respond. “Amber?”

Finally she glanced up. “What? Do you need permission?”

“I need to know that we’re okay.” But I already sensed that it was a pointless question to ask. We’d been far from okay for quite some time.

With the tightest smile imaginable, she said, “As okay as ever.”

Yeah. Exactly.

I’d been out on a few runs since we’d arrived at the island, and I already had a course that I preferred. I’d discovered it when I’d gone exploring one of our first days on Oinopa. The trail began on the estate’s lower grounds, an area accessible down a set of stairs leading down from each of the courtyards. The lower level of the compound was practically a resort in itself. There were tennis courts and stables, as well as a lush tropical garden featuring a fountain with freshwater fish. Our compound prison certainly had plenty to keep us entertained, but, since Amber seemed uninterested in much besides laying poolside, I hadn’t utilized many of the amenities.

The unpaved trail off the garden, however, was a perfect place to have time alone. The difficult course – down the side of the mountain and back up – kept my thoughts at bay. I had to concentrate on my rhythm and form to have any chance of finishing the five-mile loop in a semi-decent time.

Usually, the run cleared my head and improved my attitude, at least enough to return to being civil. Today, I was in just as bad a mood when I’d finished as when I’d started. So instead of going back up to the house, I decided to venture down another path, hidden with foliage beyond the garden fountain.

The trail wound through dense tropical trees for no more than a quarter mile before opening up to a small clearing with a stone seating area and a fire pit. At the far end of the stretch, the hillside dropped dramatically. It was a serenely beautiful location. The kind of spot that lent itself to meditating or reading. And it was romantic – secluded and quiet. Perfect for a picnic or a roll in the grass.

It was so charmingly peaceful that I wasn’t even bothered by the thought of Reeve there with past lovers. Or, not
that
bothered, anyway.

Maybe it was better not to think about that.

I walked to the ledge instead, braced my hands on the security railing, and took in the view of the ocean below. The craggy cliffside dropped fifty feet or so, ending in sharp pointed rocks that jutted into the water. To one side, a sandy beach stretched out for as far as the eye could see. Late morning fog clung to the mountain wall just beneath me. It felt spectacular, if not a little overwhelming, to be that high, like being on top of the world. A breeze blew across my face and the smell of sea hit my nose, and I wondered how it was possible to be this alive in the world and yet feel so alone. How it was possible to recognize there was so much beauty in everything and yet not feel part of it at all.

Was this how Amber had felt when she’d left that message? Was this the way she felt when she held on to pills “just in case”?

If so, maybe I understood. Partially.

The difference was the feeling didn’t make me want to die. It made me want to march back up to the house and figure out what I needed to do to start living, to stop feeling alone. To seize the beauty. It was a new emotion, one based in action rather than reaction. Was I turning into someone who didn’t just let things happen to me? Like Amber?

If so, that was new too.

A glint of gold on the ground nearby caught my eyes. It was partially covered with grass, so I’d missed it at first. I bent down to look at it now and found a plaque buried in the ground engraved with Missy Mataya’s name, birthday, and day of death.

My pulse slowed as I realized what this place was – it was the cliff Missy had fallen from. The rocks below, the security railing that looked to be fairly new. Even the foliage that had grown over the path, as though it had been a trail neglected in recent years. It all fit.

I stood back up. Being there where she’d been and feeling the way I’d imagined Amber felt, I wondered for the first time if Missy’s death had been a suicide. Jumping off the side into nothing would be a very thrilling and tragic way to end things. Like flying.

Maybe that was too dramatic. She could have just as easily fallen. If the railing hadn’t been there, in the dark and if she’d been drunk or high or upset or all of the above.

Or someone could have pushed her, relying on the probability that her death would be ruled an accident.

Reeve had told me he hadn’t been anywhere near her when it happened. He’d been on the beach, making sex tapes. There was proof that that was where he’d been. But there were still pieces of Missy’s death that felt unsettled. Things Chris Blakely had mentioned that didn’t have an answer in the story Reeve had told me.

Rustling leaves interrupted my reverie and drew my focus to the path behind me. The glimpse of white moving through the trees told me someone was coming. A few seconds later, Reeve emerged into the clearing. And, as though the sun had just moved from behind the clouds, my world got abruptly brighter.

I watched as he approached, feasting on him with my eyes for the first time in days. His casual island look somehow made him seem more dangerous than usual. Gray drawstring linen pants were paired with leather sandals and a cream button-down shirt that he’d left open, and damn if he wasn’t devastatingly attractive.

I turned away, unable to stare at him any longer without feeling physical pain. It pissed me off that he looked good. And that he was intruding on my privacy. And that he looked so good intruding.