Wreckless (11 page)

He adored his baby sister, even though at times, in his deepest private moments, he despaired about whether he was doing right by her.

She’d been diagnosed with manic depression after their parents died when she was nineteen. Her boyfriend dumping her for her best friend soon after hadn’t helped.

Adored as a child by parents who’d thought they wouldn’t have any more children after Enzo, she’d been devastated when they died in an interstate pile up. Being betrayed by not only her boyfriend, but also her best friend, had dealt her a blow she’d almost not recovered from.

Overnight, she turned from a bubbly fun-loving college student to a clingy, suicidal, sophomore drop out, living in the house he shared with Roxanne, his girlfriend at the time.

Her unpredictable tantrums had eventually driven Roxanne away, and every subsequent girlfriend had run a mile, until Enzo had finally admitted he couldn’t handle his sister’s care on his own.

He’d convinced her to see a therapist and, in just a year, Cara had undergone an immense change, almost returning to the way she used to be. He’d even hoped she might go back to college and finish her law degree. When he’d broached the subject with the therapist, she’d suggested they get away from LA for a while instead, take a trip somewhere, give Cara the chance to meet new people and form different relationships.

And so, what had started out as a three-week vacation to Thailand had ended up as an eighteen-month adventure around the world, ending in London, where he’d met Lexi, the woman of his dreams. Or so he’d thought.

Tired of living in faceless hotels, he’d suggested they rent a house for the month-long stay they’d planned in London. The last thing he’d expected when Cara had dragged him along to view the rental house her so-called Relocation Expert had found was to fall hard and fast.

He’d known how it felt to literally feel your heartstrings being plucked by love. The sensation, coupled with Lexi’s amazing beauty, had left him reeling in the entry hall of the house they were viewing that long ago winter morning.

When his less-than-subtle questioning of Cara had revealed Lexi’s love of salsa, the dance she indulged in every Wednesday night at a salsa bar near their hotel, he’d made sure to plant himself there the very next Wednesday. And the relief when Lexi walked in had given way to a blood-draining hard-on at the sight of her sexy dress and stunning body.

The same hard-on which had led him to foolishly propose three months later with his heart on his sleeve and high on love, mind-blowing sex, and happiness.

Only to be brought crashing down by hard reality, his dreams turned to ashes.

Never, ever again.

From now on, Cara was what mattered in his life. Nothing else.

He pulled her close. “Everything will be all right. So, what say we go and grab some early dinner? How about Mexican, your favorite? Then you can tell me more about this doctor of yours.”

After a moment’s hesitation, Cara nodded, her gaze softening as she looped her arm through his and recounted what the doctor’s prognoses were.

But Enzo was only half-listening. A greater, crazy, part of him was wondering why he felt as if he’d let himself down by not defending Lexi more.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Déjà vu.
Some believed there was no such thing. So why then did she feel as if she’d relived this moment, this day, before?

Lexi shut the door behind her, lobbed her keys onto the coffee table, and undressed as she went through her apartment to the bedroom. Again, her case stood just inside the door. She kicked off her shoes next to it.

Again, she took a shower which cleansed her, but didn’t manage to completely get rid of the hospital smell.

At any moment, she expected her cell to beep a message from Enzo.

Fat chance. Besides, even if he did call, she intended to follow through with the decision she’d made on the way home from the hospital.

They couldn't go on like this. The sex was mind-blowing. But the pain that came with it was too much to bear.

It was time to end things.

But can you do that? Cut him off just like that?
Cutting off her own arm would be easier, but somehow she had to find the strength to do it. Fiona was on the mend. There really was no reason to stay in LA. She could relocate. That was her expertise after all. Vegas would be a blast. New York even better. Or maybe she could go back home to London.

No.

London could never be home again.

Maybe she would take a sabbatical. Stay with her grandmother in Edinburgh for a few months. The month-long vacation she’d planned for her honeymoon was still owed her, as was the vacation time she’d accrued working for the last year without a break.

She couldn’t go to her grandmother, though. Nana Mayfield may be old, but her sharp eyes and shrewd brain would detect her broken spirit within minutes, and the last thing she needed was to be interrogated by an expert. The need to unburden herself was far too tempting. But she couldn’t do that to Nana. Her grandmother would be devastated if she knew…

The knock on the door startled her.

Not expecting anyone, she didn’t plan on opening the door, especially wearing only a towel, but a look through the peephole made her jerk back. The face was distorted, but unmistakable.

Enzo?
What the hell was he doing here?

She bit her lip, debated whether to ignore the knock, pretend she wasn't home--

“Forget it. I can hear you behind the door, baby. Open up.”

Sucking in a sustaining breath, she opened the door a crack, but left the safety chain in place. “Wh—what’re you doing here?”

His face was taut, his eyes gleaming. “You didn’t answer your cell, so I came to see you instead. Let me in.”

She realized she hadn’t switched it on after leaving the hospital. But why would he want to contact her? Had something else happened?

“Fiona? Is she—?”

He shrugged. “She’s okay as far as I know. But I didn’t come here to talk about her. Look, will you just open the door?”

“Why? What do you want? And how do you know where I live?”

He glanced down the hall and back at her. “There’s a lady down the hall listening to every word we’re saying. So unless you want to carry on this conversation on the door step…?”

Mrs. Broadbent was a nosy divorcee who made it her business to find out everything about everyone who lived on the block. Lexi hesitated, even though a part of her knew this was a perfect opportunity to carry through her decision to end things with Enzo. But somehow she’d thought, perhaps hoped, she’d have until Friday to do so.
Maybe get one last fuck out of it first?
a sardonic voice whispered.

“Dammit, will you let me in before I kick this goddamn door down?” he growled.

She unlatched the door and stepped back, then immediately regretted her decision when Enzo’s hot gaze raked over her near naked body. By the time his eyes reached her bare toes, they were both breathing hard.

“Right, I guess you not wanting to let me in makes sense now.” He slowly licked his lips and Lexi was pretty sure he didn't even realize he was doing it.

“It wasn't this...that wasn't why...”

His gaze travelled back up and molten heat pooled low in her belly. “Wasn't it? Because I'm pretty sure you know what it does to me to see you looking like that.”

“I...Enzo...” She took another step back, although every sense in her clamored to get closer to him. He followed, kicked the door shut and just stared at her.

A deep breath for fortitude turned into torture when his sandalwood-scented aftershave attacked her frail senses. Her hand tightened on the knot in her towel.

“The...uh...living room is through there.” She pointed in the vague direction and succeeded in distracting him.

But as he looked around her condo for the first time, she began to feel even more exposed than she'd felt when he was staring at her in nothing but the towel.

This was her private space, her sanctuary. Getting him out of her life would be hard enough without having the added memory of his presence here.

The need to have him out of here as fast as possible spiked through her. But she couldn’t throw him out wearing only a towel. “I—I need to get changed. I’ll be right back. Take a seat.”

His gaze slammed back to hers, his eyes almost burning holes through the flimsy towel. “Sure you don’t want to invite me into your bedroom, baby? I could help you, uh…change.” The husky temptation in his voice almost undid her.

Did she want to invite him into her bedroom?

With every single fiber of her being!

She took another step back and prayed for strength. “No, thanks. Actually, I’m glad you came. We need to talk.”

His eyes shot up from their survey of her legs. “We do? What about?”

“Wait here, I’ll be right back.”

She flew to her room, dropping her towel on the floor. At her dresser, she extracted a pair of black briefs from her drawer and was just about to slip them on when her door banged open.

“Sorry, baby, I got tired of waiting,” the low rumble of his voice was tinged with amusement since it'd barely been a minute.

Lexi jerked upright and dropped the briefs. Moss green eyes slid down her naked form, lust blazing all the way. At the juncture of her thighs, lust morphed into something else.
“Who the hell did you shave yourself for?”
he bellowed.

She swallowed at the volcanic fury in his eyes. He seemed to grow in proportion with his rage, filling her room as he charged toward her.

For you, you ass.
“For myself.”

He closed in on her, seizing her arm in a painful hold. “Don’t lie to me! Did you fuck someone else in Vegas? Someone who didn’t want to see any hair on your perfect little mound?”

She tried to shove him away. “Piss off! I won’t be spoken to like that, Enzo.”

“Answer me!”

“No, I will not.”

He paled. “God, you did, didn’t you? It’s written all over your face.”

“And what if I did? Am I the only woman you’ve slept with since we met again?”

The unexpected question threw Enzo even as he reeled under the weight of fury, pain and gut-clawing jealousy. To admit he hadn’t slept with another woman since she came on the scene six months ago would be to confess a deep, deadly obsession even he refused to acknowledge. But he couldn’t answer in the negative. There was only one liar in this room, and it wasn’t him.

“Just tell me straight. For once in your life, tell the truth. Did you get naked for someone else in Vegas?”

Her tongue flicked over her lips. “No, I didn't. Not exactly.”

He jerked her closer, trying his damnedest to ignore what the softness of her warm body did to his. “What the hell does that mean? Either you did or you didn’t.”

“In that case, no, I didn’t.”

The relief he should’ve felt was absurdly absent. She was trying to fuck with his mind. He spiked one hand in her hair, exerting pressure to tilt her face up to his.

“I’ll ask one last time. Did another man see you naked on your trip?”

She remained silent, her eyes square on his. But her color rose.

Red, the color of guilt.

“
Jesus.
You did!” He wondered why he felt so hurt. How long had he known she had a loose relationship with the truth?

“No, I didn't. I swear, I didn’t have sex with anyone else.”

“Then what?”

“It was nothing; just a massage.”

“What kind of massage?”

“Oh, come on Enzo—!”

“What kind?”

“The usual kind.”

“When it comes to you, baby, we both know usual is a whole different ballgame.” His grip tightened. “Explain.”

“No, I won’t. You’re just going to have to tr—” She stopped herself from saying the word.

“Trust you?
Trust you?
I’m sure you won’t be offended if I laugh?” Although, right now laughing was the last thing he felt like doing. “Just tell me what this massage entailed.”

“Look, Enzo, it was a normal massage. But if you want the whole truth, the guy who gave the massage this time was the same one who gave a…different one the last time I was there.”

“You mean you fucked him? You fucked him in Vegas?” he bit out, a strange numbness spreading inside.

Her chin rose. “Yes, I did. Seven months ago,” she added in a low voice.

“
Seven months?
You mean before you and I…”

She nodded.

This time relief smashed through, flooding him with a heady emotion. Instinct said she told the truth, even though the clear steady gaze that held his meant nothing.

“Then why did you shave everything off?” She knew how much he loved her pubes. There was something insanely sexy and earthy about running his fingers through her her curls before cupping her.

“I—I wanted to try it another way...”

He frowned. “What way?”

She lifted a bare, smooth shoulder in a self-conscious shrug. “I’ve heard the feeling’s more…sensitive…down there if there’s no hair.” More hot color flowed up her face, and a reluctant smile tug at his lips.

“Really? That's interesting.” His eyes flicked to the bed – the nice double bed with the flower-motif coverlet. “Maybe we should test the theory?”

He saw the heat he felt reflected in her eyes, and his cock grew so hard, he saw stars. Anticipatory warmth flooded his mouth, but to his surprise, she shook her head and stepped away.

“Why the hell not?” he bit out, the very idea of having to leave here without fucking her making him want to smash his fist into something. “It’s not Friday, I know,” his voice sounded pitiful and pleading even to his own ears. “But I’m here, you’re here. You want to fuck me, and I sure as hell want you to. Seeing you today at the hospital... God, baby, I've missed you. I know you've missed me too. So what’s the problem?” When he tried to back her toward the bed, she pulled away.

“You were horrible to me at the hospital.”

He stopped and clawed a hand through his hair. “I know. And I'm sorry. Seeing you there was a shock. And Cara...well she's making some tough decisions right now and she needs me.” He started toward her again. “I don't want to talk about that now. Hell, I don't want to talk, period.”