Last Second Chance (27 page)

She wasn’t angry or afraid. Or asking a million questions about what was next. She didn’t make any demands of him, didn’t want to take pictures for evidence. She just wanted him to hold her. Which was good because it was about all he could manage at that particular moment.

His heart was beating the shit out of his chest, and he couldn’t tell if it was from the workout of the sex or something else.

Something else was a strong possibility. The woman in his arms sighed and pulled him from his euphoric high.

“You okay?” He placed a gentle kiss on the top of her head.

She nodded against him. She was still struggling for breath when she answered. “More than. So much more than okay.”

W
rapped in her short pearl-white silk robe and his arms, she lay next to him, lightly tracing his ink with her fingertips.

So far they’d eaten cold pasta before returning to bed for another round of lovemaking. He’d gone slower this time, and she was pretty sure he had literally massaged, licked, kissed, and sucked every single inch of her body. He’d imprinted himself on her in a way she felt conflicted about. It felt wonderful, like sunshine saturating her skin after being soaked in a rainstorm. But it also felt…permanent. And irrevocable.

Afterward, they’d discussed the words on his arm and chest. Lyrics he’d written for a song he’d never recorded. His eyes had gone dark and his muscles had stiffened, so she hadn’t pressed for any more information. There were hands praying with rosary beads wrapped around them. And a few band-related symbols. Music notes in flames and a shattered record. His path to his music career had been a rocky one he’d informed her. That’s what the sleeve that covered his left arm represented.

But it was his back, the breathtakingly magnificent mural of ink etched over every flesh-covered muscle and sinew that she ached to know more about. It somehow managed to be beautiful and heartbreaking all at once.

The faceless angel sat in water, her head down and arms wrapped around the knees drawn to her chest. Stella traced the details of her form and then let her fingers drift outward to expansive black wings.

“Who is this?” she whispered into the darkness. Even with only a bedside lamp for light, she could see the shading, the light and the dark, the pain that accompanied the artwork he’d put on his body.

“No one. It’s just ink.” His gravelly voice effectively erected a wall between them. He didn’t say anything else or turn to look at her, but she got the message loud and clear. This subject was off-limits.

Stella swallowed the lump constricting her throat. She didn’t know who it represented. But she knew one thing for certain. He’d lied. It wasn’t just ink. And whoever she was, his angel of darkness was weighing him down.

She hoped it was just the post-coital vulnerability that made his refusal to share this with her so upsetting. It was clearly none of her business.

Just as the silence became suffocating, Van turned his head. He’d somehow vanquished the demons glaring at her from behind his eyes and the light, teasing version of him had reappeared. Stella struggled to keep up.

“Did you really hide the riding crops?”

She grinned, the tension in her chest easing in as she did. “Perhaps.”

“Hmm.” He stared at her thoughtfully before sitting up and putting his shirt back on. She tried not to read anything into it. Tried but failed. He was hiding his angel of darkness from her. It stung. “So you fell and hurt your knee. Is that why I never see you riding any of those hellish beasts?”

“Huh?” Stella pulled her eyes up from his now covered chest. “Oh, the horses?” She sat up and pulled her robe tighter. “Yeah. My horse Angel’s Breath took a fall. Landed on my leg. I couldn’t walk for two months. It was terrifying. So I quit racing.” There was more to it, but that was all she really felt comfortable sharing with someone who’d just lied his ass off about a tattoo.

Van bent to pull on his boxer briefs and jeans. “And why’s that, cowgirl?”

Now she was the one who wanted to pull away, put up her walls, and shut him out. “Why did I quit? I just told you. I got hurt.”

He eyed her speculatively as he buttoned his jeans. “So you don’t race anymore. Doesn’t mean you couldn’t still ride.”

She narrowed her eyes at him and he put his hands up.

“For fun, I mean. Easy, babe. I didn’t mean to make you mad.” He dropped his hands and shrugged. “But I’ve seen that look you get. You want to ride them. Or at least that temperamental pain-in-the-ass one.”

Her lips attempted to fight back the smile attacking them. “Yes, I certainly seem to have a type, don’t I?”

Leaning forward, Van kissed her lightly on the mouth. “Yeah, you do. Thank fuck for that.”

“You’re leaving.” It wasn’t a question. She didn’t need to ask, she knew he’d been away from the facility long enough. And that they might not ever get to spend an entire night together. For all she knew, and judging from the way he’d shut down and hurried to escape, whatever this was between them might end the day he checked out of rehab. Or before then.

“I’d say I’d call you, but we both know I can’t.”

“And I’d say I’d love to do this again sometime, but…” She made a big show of wrinkling her nose and shrugging. “I think I’m good. Guess it was one of those ‘itches that needed to be scratched so we could move on’ type things.”

Van’s dark eyebrows lifted, and then he smirked. “Speaking of things that got scratched, my arms and back are torn to hell. Guess you scratched the fuck out of that itch, cowgirl. Glad you got me out of your system.”

Pulling her to him, he kissed her. It wasn’t a goodbye peck or a goodnight kiss. It was deep and wet. It went on until she was gasping for oxygen and her jaw ached. It was an I-own-you kiss.

His hands dropped to grip her ass and Stella moaned into his mouth. She had no idea how she could still want him so badly. She was mostly certain that her body would shut completely down if she gave in and let him inside her again. But she was willing to give it a shot. Mind-blowing euphoric bliss like he’d given her didn’t exactly come around often. Or ever, in her experience.

“Mm. Yeah, you’re right,” he began, pressing his still firm cock against her thigh. “I think we’re all done here.”

Far too turned on to keep playing at the casual banter, Stella pulled him back to her once more.

She flicked her tongue against his lips before dipping it into his mouth. Her hands held his face tightly and she stared into his eyes.

“I’ll put my notice in tomorrow, Van. I can’t…I don’t want to stop.”

“Hey.” He took her hand and pressed his lips seductively to her palm before letting it go. “This won’t cost you your job, cowgirl. We’ll figure it out.”

“Stay,” she pleaded quietly. It was a desperate move and she could feel the rejection as soon as she said it.

He kissed her firmly on the forehead. “Want to know the first rule of performing?”

Having no clue why he was suddenly bringing up his career, she furrowed her brow. “Sure.”

Biting at her lower lip, he let his fingers blaze a trail through the still damp folds of sensitive flesh between her legs. “Always leave them wanting more.”

She moaned as he stroked her. “Van.”

“Goodnight, beautiful. Sweet dreams.”

“Night,” she whispered as he walked out, even though it was nearly time for the sun to come up.

He smiled sweetly, something he rarely did. But there were flecks of sadness in his eyes.

She wanted to reach out to him, cocoon him in that private place where they were one, where they were whole, where there was no sadness and everything was perfect. But she let him go. Back to his side of the line that would always separate them. She could tell by the way he behaved that he thought himself beneath her for being a patient or client or whatever the hell at SCR. But she knew the truth.

When he left here, he’d jet off to his real life, where he was in high demand night after night, where he played to sold-out crowds and made awe-inspiring and heart-stopping music—she’d downloaded some of it. And she’d be…here. Hiding out in a job where she was a glorified secretary. She wasn’t like Miranda or Dr. Ramirez. She didn’t change anyone’s life here or help anyone do anything much other than transcribe notes, send faxes, and respond to emails.

Once Van left, her life would return to its typically gray shade of mundane. He was a brilliant burst of flashing red-gold light in her life. One she would appreciate while it lit her universe, and one she was realizing she would miss more than she could even imagine once it was gone.

T
wo days could feel like an eternity. A miserable, lonely, and dull-as-dirt eternity.

She’d been busy working and hadn’t seen him even once. She’d hoped he would make his way to the barn, but Jesse was spending all kinds of time down there. She had a feeling she might not be the only one to have received the “be careful” warning. But she was afraid to ask Jesse if he’d talked to Van. Opening her mouth to ask about Van would probably give her away instantly. She didn’t know if she could even speak his name without turning red and twitching.

She was contemplating this while tapping her pen rhythmically against her desk. A song of Van’s band called “Flight”
from their hit album
Escaping the Cage
played quietly from her computer. She hummed along as she scrolled through the emails she needed to answer. She had to clench her thighs together every time his raspy voice reached her ears.

When her office door burst open, he appeared as if she’d magicked him into the room.

A confident grin lifted his lips. Stella figured he must’ve recognized his song. “Hey there, cowgirl.”

She stood abruptly, skimming her knee against her desk. “Um, hi?”

Jesus. His eyes were light in contrast to his dark cobalt blue T-shirt. His bare body appeared behind her eyes and she finally got what it meant to undress someone with your eyes.

“Didn’t realize you were a fan,” he said, closing the door behind him.

Stella’s heartbeat sped as soon as the door clicked shut. It nearly combusted when there was a second click. He’d locked it.

“I’m not,” she answered quickly. Too quickly. Hurt flashed across his face, and she amended her answer immediately. “I mean, I hadn’t actually heard anything by your band before…before we met. But then I got curious. So far, I really like all the songs I’ve heard.”

“Curious, huh?” He arched a brow, lowering himself onto the edge of her desk instead of into a seat. “Anything else you’re curious about that I can help with?”

His heat spread throughout the room along with his expensive cologne and clean man-soap scent. It was intoxicating—so much so that all she could do was be honest.

“A few things,” she answered, meeting his burning stare with one of her own.

“Name one.”

“I’m curious who this song is about.” She nodded to her speakers. There was a line that had touched her somewhere she kept hidden.
What if I let it all go—bare everything inside? What if I let the ugly show? Come with me tonight. Grab my hand—let’s take flight.

The verse was half-screamed and half-growled, but she felt the full weight of his pain in it.

Van’s shoulders tensed despite his effort to lift them noncommittally. “It’s not about anyone really. Pretty much the whole album was about escaping our sadistic record label. They were just too damn stupid to get it.”

“Hm.” She searched his face for any sign he might be lying. She found none, but she still didn’t believe him entirely.

“Anyways, wanna know what I’m doing here?”

Her face flushed deep crimson. “Yeah, that would’ve been a more appropriate question to ask.”

His lips curved into a heart-seizing grin. “I think we’re pretty far past appropriate, cowgirl. No need to worry with it now.”

She smiled back. “Fair enough.”

“Well, to answer your unasked question, I’m here because Dr. Ramirez mentioned that my client satisfaction survey hadn’t made it in with the others. I could’ve sworn you came by and we took care of that. Or did I dream that?”

The knowing gleam in his eyes had tremors rippling under her skin. He knew good and well they hadn’t finished and why.

Stella ran a finger over her lips. “Let me think. There were just
so many
. I can’t remember exactly why yours wasn’t completed.”