The Masseuse (15 page)

His hands tightened around my waist and then he lifted me, and I wrapped my legs around his hips. I gave a little gasp as he gripped my buttocks and pulled me closer. He was hot, hard, and ready, and with the mirrored walls of the elevator car, I could see the muscles of his back flex as I raked my fingernails lightly over his scalp.

“Sleeping. Something you and I will not be doing tonight,” he promised as the elevator climbed higher. Fifteen, sixteen, seventeen.

“Careful,” I said. “This is a nice place. I bet there’s a security camera in here. You never know who’s watching.”

“I know exactly who’s watching,” he said, nuzzling his face into my hair. “Max owns the building, and the security guards report to me.”

“How convenient.”

His tongue skimmed the edge of my earlobe.

Anticipation quickened my pulse, but I wanted him to know that the importance of this move was not lost on me. Tonight, I was going to take care of him, starting right now. I kissed his lower lip, and the corners of his mouth. While he held me, I gripped his strong shoulders and licked his neck just below his ear.

“Mmm . . .”
I hummed. “You taste good. I wonder if you taste good everywhere.” I rolled my hips, increasing the pressure against his rigid shaft. I wasn’t normally the type to talk dirty, but the energy crackling between us was enough to draw it out of me.

“Jesus,” he muttered.

The elevator climbed past the twenty-first floor.

“Would you like to see me on my knees, Alec?” I bit the base of his neck. He shuddered. His body was one hard, taut muscle.

“Would you like to put your cock in my mouth?” I whispered. He jerked, and pinned me against one of the mirrored walls. His eyes had grown dark, and he readjusted his hands so that he wasn’t squeezing my legs quite so hard.

I loved watching him lose control.

Twenty-eight, twenty-nine.

I flexed my thighs, rising an inch, then rubbing back down. Again I moved. I could feel the damp folds of skin swelling, a pressure that would build and build until I found release. I tilted my head back, exposing my neck to his hot breath.

“I want all of you,” I murmured.

One raspy breath, and he kissed me, hard enough to bruise my lips. Hard enough to make the fire in my belly rage through my blood. Desperately, our tongues mated. Our teeth scraped. I held his face in my hands and moaned, weightless in his arms and driven by a need that had spiraled out of control.

Somewhere in the back of my mind, I registered the ding of the elevator. Then he was walking, quickly, and when he turned his head to the side, I feasted on his neck.

A door clicked open, slammed behind him.

“Now,” I said. “Hurry, Alec.”

He set me roughly on a hard surface—a table or a counter. Even though it was dark, I caught a glimpse of cabinets, a refrigerator. Then he was ripping the tank top over my head, freeing my bare breasts. I whimpered as he kneaded the tender flesh, then rolled my nipples between his fingers. His head lowered, and he pulled one hardened tip in his mouth. When his teeth gently teased the end, my hips bucked. All the while his wicked hand continued to massage my other breast.

Though I wanted him inside me, I didn’t forget what I’d promised. I needed his cock in my mouth in a primal way. I could already feel my tongue sliding over the smooth skin, and the tender ache in my jaw as he drove himself deeper.

I grabbed the back of his shirt, heard the stitches give way with a pop. A second of separation to discard the stretched material, and then his mouth was back on mine, and his chest was tantalizing my tender front while he nestled himself between my open legs.

He stopped suddenly.

“Shit.” His hands cradled my face. “Hold on.”

It was like a freight train plowing into a brick wall.

“What?” I managed between breaths.

“Just . . . Don’t move. Hold on.”

He backed away, leaving me topless and vulnerable. I crossed my arms over my breasts as he pulled his cell phone out of the back pocket.

He had to be kidding.

I looked around for the first time. We were in the kitchen. The dark wood cabinets were all neatly closed, and the marble countertops were clear.

The screen of his cell phone lit his face with a soft glow as he read through his messages. He looked up at me, then bit his knuckles.

“I’m sorry,” he said roughly. “I’ve got to go.”

“W
hat happened?” I slid off the countertop and grabbed my shirt off the floor. “Is everything okay?”

Worry chilled the heat in my veins—in my world, a late-night phone call meant someone I cared about was in trouble—but it wasn’t worry that drew his lips into a straight line. It was annoyance.

“Work,” he said gruffly. “What perfect fucking timing.”

“Work?” I let the tank top I’d been holding to my bare breasts fall to my side. “It’s eleven o’clock at night.”

When the boss calls, I have to answer.
Alec had told me this on our first date.

He was scrubbing his hands over his face.

“I don’t exactly keep a traditional nine-to-five.”

“What could Mr. Stein possibly need this late?”

His expression turned grave. He opened his mouth. Closed it.

“I can’t talk about this now,” he finally said.

He wasn’t going to tell me. Of course, he wasn’t. Silly me to think he might actually clue me in on something in his life.

I started to pull on the tank top, but he grabbed my wrists, holding my arms above my head. For a moment I thought he was going to share what had happened, or even say to hell with the message and take me to bed, but then he released me and stalked out of the kitchen.

Maybe coming here hadn’t been such a good idea.

I followed him around the corner and was immediately struck by a stunning view of the Bay through floor-to-ceiling windows. It was black in the night, with only the twinkling lights of a single cruise ship to break the inky water.

“Wow,” I said to myself, then took in the rest of the room. One single chocolate leather couch, placed across from a flat-screen television mounted on the wall. There was a dining area, but no dining room table or chairs. No pictures on the walls. The room was spartan to say the least.

I realized why he hadn’t brought me here before—he must have just moved in. I felt a little guilty for suspecting he was hiding something.

My bare feet shuffled over the plush carpet as I peeked my head around the corner of his bedroom. The décor was the same in here—a king-size bed on a square mahogany frame with a feather comforter tossed over the mattress, and a single dresser against the wall. There was a sliding door that led out to a patio, but no patio furniture.

Alec was inside the walk-in closet, buttoning up a dress shirt.

“When did you move in?” I asked, leaning against the doorframe.

He didn’t look up at me, frustration making his movements hurried and sharp. “Three years ago. Why?”

My brows shot up. “You have less stuff than me, and I’ve only been in town a couple months.”

“I’m used to simple,” he said. “Besides, I’m not here very much.”

“Where do you usually stay?”

He slipped on his shoes. “I’ve been at your place the last week.”

“And before that?”

He hesitated, and my gaze dropped to the floor. Stupid question. He was used to staying with other women.

“Scratch that,” I said. “Never mind.”

“It’s not what you think,” he said.

“It’s fine.” Not really, but there wasn’t anything I could do about it.

He finally looked up at me, and the shadows beneath his eyes reminded me of the picture I’d seen in Maxim’s study my first time at the mansion. Something was weighing heavily on him. Secrets he couldn’t, or wouldn’t, share.

“Pop quiz,” I said quietly. “The person you’re seeing gets a call in the middle of the night and takes off like a bat out of hell. He’s A, a superhero, B, a drug dealer, or C, married.”

“Christ, Anna. You think I want to leave?”

I turned away, stung by his tone, but stilled as he came up behind me. Tentatively, his hands came to rest on my waist, and I sagged back against his chest.

“I’ll be back as soon as I can,” he said. “If you’re hungry, there’s . . .” He sighed. “Take-out menus in the kitchen.”

He clearly didn’t want to go. Because it was stupid to punish him for things out of his control, I turned to face him and smoothed down his collar.

“Go,” I told him. “I’ll be naked in your bed when you get back.”

He groaned, and rested his forehead against mine.

“Thanks,” he said. And with one very chaste kiss on the cheek, he left.

*

I searched his bathroom cabinet first, then some of the drawers. It wasn’t like I was some creeper, nosing through his stuff, but come on. He sort of asked for it, leaving me here unattended. Any girl would have done the same.

The most exciting find was a box of condoms in his nightstand drawer. It was nearly empty. So not that exciting, actually.

Alec hadn’t been lying when he said he was hardly ever here. There were a couple of plates in the kitchen, a box of plastic utensils, and a three-pack of paper towels under the sink. But his bathroom had all the regular toiletries, and his closet was filled with clothes. He obviously used this place for a home base, even if he didn’t spend much time here.

I found my red panties—the ones he’d stolen that day at Rave—in the top drawer of his nightstand. He wasn’t trying to hide them from anyone who might come looking, so that was something at least.

Still, I couldn’t stop wondering what he was doing, what kind of thing his boss might need him for in the middle of the night. I wanted to believe he was telling the truth about working. I liked him, more than I cared to admit. I didn’t want to consider the alternatives.

Unsure of when he was coming back, I took off my clothes and curled up in his bed. The sheets were high quality, but crisp, like they hadn’t been properly worn in. I liked to think I could help him with that. I wished that they smelled like him, but they didn’t. They smelled like clean laundry.

I told myself this was Alec’s place. Alec, who I’d spent every free moment of the last week with. Alec, who’d picked me up in the middle of the night, who’d been inside me. But the truth was his apartment was strange and empty, and I was alone. I told myself I could have left, caught a cab home. I wasn’t stranded; it was my choice to be here.

It helped a little.

I kept my cell phone by the bed just in case he called, but as the minutes ticked by, I became more and more drowsy. I told myself to get up and turn on the TV—I wanted to be awake when he got home—but I was already drifting away.

*

“You go have fun, understand?”

Mama picked at a spot on her cheek that was already red and raw. She was scratching at her arms again, too, the way she did after she visited her special friend. She had been pretty once. Long black hair, like I had, and smooth dark skin. Now she was skinnier than me and all scratched up.

When I didn’t move, her mouth started to twitch. She was mad again. I’d made her mad. I
always
made her mad.

My stomach started to hurt.

“What’s the matter?” she said. “Don’t you like to play? What kind of kid doesn’t like to play?” She pointed to the jungle gym and the red tube slide, where a few other kids were laughing and racing around. Even through the glass wall separating the play area from the rest of the restaurant, I could see the smashed French fries on the mat.

I wanted to be a good girl, but I didn’t want her to leave. I hated it when she went off with her friends. Sometimes she came back happy. Most times she came back tired, or mean, or bruised up. I didn’t want to play. I just wanted to go home.

She pinched my elbow, and I started to cry.

“You love your mama, don’t you? You want to make me happy? Then for God’s sake, go play. And don’t talk to strangers. The last thing I need is someone snatching you.”

I wiped my nose on my sleeve, trying to be brave. I looked up at the other parents, scared they might try to kidnap me.

“Hush, hush,” she said, and pulled me into her arms. She squeezed too tight, but I didn’t want her to let go. “Mama won’t let that happen as long as you’re a good girl and you do what she says.”

She let go and swatted me on the rear as I walked toward the glass door.

“Oh, and Anna?”

I looked back, ready to sprint back if she said it was okay.

“Don’t you run away.”

*

I woke with a start, swallowing the air like I’d been held under water. I thrashed against the covers that bound me, damp with sweat. The room was dark and unfamiliar. I wasn’t alone. Someone’s hands squeezed my shoulders before I scrambled away.

“Anna,” he said. “
Anna
. Baby, wake up.”

I inhaled fast and breathed in the warm, familiar scent. I was at Alec’s apartment. I’d fallen asleep. The fog in my brain cleared quickly, but my chest ached with the memory.

“Easy,” he said. “You’re okay. It’s me. It’s Alec.”

I was kneeling, and he was sitting up across from me. Neither of us was wearing clothes. Though the lights were off, the blinds from the sliding glass door were pushed open, and the moonlight cast shadows across his body. I’d pulled the sheets up over my chest, as if the thin material was enough to shield me from my nightmares.

I was cold. Freezing. That’s what the past did every time it broke through the barrier. It hollowed me out and chilled me to the bone.

He reached for me slowly, and his gentle touch warmed my cheek. My arms lowered.

“Anna, you’re shaking.” He moved closer. The concern was clear in his voice.

I didn’t want his concern. I wanted his warmth. I wanted to forget my past, my dreams, where he’d been. I wanted him to take away the cold.

I leaned forward and kissed him. He didn’t respond at first, so I snaked my fingers through his hair and pulled him closer. I kissed him hard, and when his lips parted, I pressed my tongue into his mouth, shuddering with the heat I found there.

“Anna,” he leaned away, searching my eyes for an answer I couldn’t give. “What are you . . . ?”

“Please,” I said. I laid down, pulling him over me. He hovered over my body, weight on his elbows, knees bent. I wrapped my legs around his hips and pressed our bodies together. He was hard and I was grateful for it; I could feel him nudging at my entrance and prepared myself for a rough entry. I wasn’t wet and ready like usual, but there wasn’t time for that now. I could already feel the freeze taking me.

“Slow down,” he whispered. He tried again to meet my eyes, but I looked away. I reached for his cock, but he stopped my hand.

“Are you crying?” he asked.

“I need this,” I said. “Please.” I hated that my voice sounded thin enough to break. “I’m . . .”

“What?” he asked, face inches from mine. “Talk to me.”

“Cold.” I closed my eyes tightly. “Empty.”

He was perfectly still; I could feel his gaze on me. I knew he was confused. He was probably wondering how he could back out of this without me going psycho on him.

Desperate, I twisted my hips, so that I was rubbing against him. He faltered, giving a soft groan. His shoulders loosened. His forehead rested on my collarbone.

“Hold on to me,” he whispered.

I wrapped my arms around his shoulders, feeling my weakened muscles tremble. I spread my legs to give him room to position himself between them.

“Thank you,” I said.

He sat up, pulling me onto his lap. I straddled him, his erection pressed between our stomachs. I held him so tightly I didn’t have to see his face; my chin was on his shoulder. Finally, he was going to chase away the darkness.

“Anna, I can’t.”

I shook harder. My face was wet; there was nothing to wipe my tears on now, and they slid down my cheeks to his back.

“I don’t know what’s going on,” he said. “But I won’t do it if you’re too scared to look at me. I can’t.”

My frozen heart was cracking. It
hurt
.

I shivered. “I’m cold.”

“Then let me hold you,” he said.

His arms were solid, safe, and warm. I wept silently, and he asked no questions, and when the tears were dry, his fingers combed through my hair and ran up and down my spine. An hour or more passed, and when I was strong again, I kissed him, and he responded in the same language—whispers and sighs and soft touches. He made love to me slowly, holding my gaze as he burned away the final bit of ice clinging to my bones. Only at the last moment did he bury his face in my neck and breathe my name.

Afterward, he cleaned us both with a warm towel, and then pulled me back against his chest. It wasn’t until his breathing grew heavy and even that I allowed myself to admit the truth: I loved him. I loved him and he would leave me, just like my mom had left my dad. Just like Amy’s husband had left Paisley and her. Just like my birth mother had left again and again and again.

The end of us had already begun.

One more night,
I promised, and then I’d leave. I had to go before it was too late. Before I couldn’t. With that promise echoing in my head, I fell into a deep, dreamless sleep, holding his arm against my chest like a lifeline.