Torture to Her Soul
Page 29
Ray doesn't understand love anymore. He has a wife, and a mistress, hundreds of men at his beck and call, but I don't think he's ever loved anyone outside of his daughter. Love destroyed him that day, too, and he never recovered.
He doesn't understand how I can.
Karissa's reading, a familiar old book in her hands, one I recognize with just a glance. The Prince. I've read it so many times I can quote it verbatim. Based on the crease along her forehead, the puckering of her lips as she glowers, I'd say she doesn't find it nearly as fascinating as I do.
She's reading it, though.
I'll give her some credit.
"The Prince."
My voice sounds magnified in the silent bathroom. She jumps, startled, not noticing me until now. The book slips from her hands, hitting the water with a splash. Cursing, she snatches it back up before it fully submerges, shooting me a panicked look. "Shit, sorry, I didn't mean—"
I hold my hands up to stop her. "Don't apologize."
"But your book," she says, shaking the water off of it. "It's wet."
I stroll toward her, shrugging. "It's just a book."
"It's your favorite book," she says. "I'm guessing, anyway, considering half of it is underlined and highlighted and you scribbled all in the margins. Ugh, and I'm ruining it… I'm sorry, really. I didn't mean to, but you scared me. How the hell do you keep doing that? You'd think I'd be used to it by now."
"You'd think," I say, "but you lack intuition."
She rolls her eyes. "Oh no, I have it, it's just going haywire. I think my mother's getting to me."
Hesitating, I debate for a second before pushing away from the door and slowly strolling over to her. Gritting my teeth at the stabbing pain, I slowly sit down on the edge of the tub. It eases once I'm sitting. "Why do you say that?"
"She was always paranoid, you know, thinking people were watching her, and I guess in her case they sort of were..." She shoots me a pointed look. "But I don't know... I keep getting that feeling, too."
"The feeling that somebody's watching you?"
"Yes. I felt it yesterday, when I went to the store, and then today I went to the driveway, and I know it's only like ten feet but I just..." She trails off, frowning. "I guess I'm just jumpy after what happened to you."
It's not paranoia, I think, although I don't tell her.
It wouldn't surprise me a bit if she were being followed, if people were watching.
It puts me on edge.
"What are you doing, anyway?" she asks, changing the subject. "Why are you even out of bed?"
"I have things to do."
"Yeah," she says incredulously. "Like sleep, and rest, and recover."
"It's just a flesh wound," I say. "Barely even hurts."
She rolls her eyes but doesn't argue with me about it, her attention going to the book once again. "I really am sorry I got your book wet."
"It's fine," I say. "I can buy another copy."
Sighing, she closes the book, her cheeks tingeing pink. "But you'll lose all of your notes."
"Nonsense." I tap my temple. "It's all up here."
"I bet," she says, holding the book out to me, offering it up. I take it, feeling the soggy cover. It's old and vintage, definitely ruined. "It kind of did feel like I was getting a peek at your brain."
"And what was that like?"
"Complicated."
I laugh lightly, cringing. Shit, even that hurts. "Is that good or bad?"
She offers me a slight shrug, shifting in the water to pull her knees up further, wrapping her arms around them. The discomfort is creeping in as she tries to shield parts of herself from me, parts she doesn't want me to see.
She's needlessly self-conscious, considering I know every inch of her already.
"Huh." I glance down at the book in my hands as I consider that. "Men judge more by the eye than by the hand, for everyone can see but few ever come in touch with you."
"Are you…?" She twirls her fingers around in the water. "Are you saying you want to feel me up or something?"
I stand up again, shaking my head. "I'm saying you've touched me, Karissa. You've gotten a lot closer than the ones who can only see. That's why it's complicated."
I walk out, leaving her in peace, not wanting her to be any more uncomfortable than she already seems to be.
I drop the soaked book on the dresser in the bedroom before I head for my closet, pulling a suit off the rack. I hear Karissa pad down the hall, coming straight to the bedroom behind me. I cast a glance at her as she stalls right inside the room, clutching a stark white towel around herself as she regards me.
I pull the shirt off the hanger and slowly start putting it on as I look back away from her. It's a matter of seconds before she's in front of me, forcing my hands away to do it for me. "So, uh… are you saying you don't want to feel me up then?"
Her playfulness makes me smile. It's nice to hear it again. "I don't think you'll ever hear me say that."
Stepping back, I sit down on the edge of the bed to pull on the pants before looking at her again. My eyes trail the slivers of exposed skin in the dim moonlight before meeting her eyes. She's watching me curiously, brow slightly furrowed.
He doesn't understand how I can.
Karissa's reading, a familiar old book in her hands, one I recognize with just a glance. The Prince. I've read it so many times I can quote it verbatim. Based on the crease along her forehead, the puckering of her lips as she glowers, I'd say she doesn't find it nearly as fascinating as I do.
She's reading it, though.
I'll give her some credit.
"The Prince."
My voice sounds magnified in the silent bathroom. She jumps, startled, not noticing me until now. The book slips from her hands, hitting the water with a splash. Cursing, she snatches it back up before it fully submerges, shooting me a panicked look. "Shit, sorry, I didn't mean—"
I hold my hands up to stop her. "Don't apologize."
"But your book," she says, shaking the water off of it. "It's wet."
I stroll toward her, shrugging. "It's just a book."
"It's your favorite book," she says. "I'm guessing, anyway, considering half of it is underlined and highlighted and you scribbled all in the margins. Ugh, and I'm ruining it… I'm sorry, really. I didn't mean to, but you scared me. How the hell do you keep doing that? You'd think I'd be used to it by now."
"You'd think," I say, "but you lack intuition."
She rolls her eyes. "Oh no, I have it, it's just going haywire. I think my mother's getting to me."
Hesitating, I debate for a second before pushing away from the door and slowly strolling over to her. Gritting my teeth at the stabbing pain, I slowly sit down on the edge of the tub. It eases once I'm sitting. "Why do you say that?"
"She was always paranoid, you know, thinking people were watching her, and I guess in her case they sort of were..." She shoots me a pointed look. "But I don't know... I keep getting that feeling, too."
"The feeling that somebody's watching you?"
"Yes. I felt it yesterday, when I went to the store, and then today I went to the driveway, and I know it's only like ten feet but I just..." She trails off, frowning. "I guess I'm just jumpy after what happened to you."
It's not paranoia, I think, although I don't tell her.
It wouldn't surprise me a bit if she were being followed, if people were watching.
It puts me on edge.
"What are you doing, anyway?" she asks, changing the subject. "Why are you even out of bed?"
"I have things to do."
"Yeah," she says incredulously. "Like sleep, and rest, and recover."
"It's just a flesh wound," I say. "Barely even hurts."
She rolls her eyes but doesn't argue with me about it, her attention going to the book once again. "I really am sorry I got your book wet."
"It's fine," I say. "I can buy another copy."
Sighing, she closes the book, her cheeks tingeing pink. "But you'll lose all of your notes."
"Nonsense." I tap my temple. "It's all up here."
"I bet," she says, holding the book out to me, offering it up. I take it, feeling the soggy cover. It's old and vintage, definitely ruined. "It kind of did feel like I was getting a peek at your brain."
"And what was that like?"
"Complicated."
I laugh lightly, cringing. Shit, even that hurts. "Is that good or bad?"
She offers me a slight shrug, shifting in the water to pull her knees up further, wrapping her arms around them. The discomfort is creeping in as she tries to shield parts of herself from me, parts she doesn't want me to see.
She's needlessly self-conscious, considering I know every inch of her already.
"Huh." I glance down at the book in my hands as I consider that. "Men judge more by the eye than by the hand, for everyone can see but few ever come in touch with you."
"Are you…?" She twirls her fingers around in the water. "Are you saying you want to feel me up or something?"
I stand up again, shaking my head. "I'm saying you've touched me, Karissa. You've gotten a lot closer than the ones who can only see. That's why it's complicated."
I walk out, leaving her in peace, not wanting her to be any more uncomfortable than she already seems to be.
I drop the soaked book on the dresser in the bedroom before I head for my closet, pulling a suit off the rack. I hear Karissa pad down the hall, coming straight to the bedroom behind me. I cast a glance at her as she stalls right inside the room, clutching a stark white towel around herself as she regards me.
I pull the shirt off the hanger and slowly start putting it on as I look back away from her. It's a matter of seconds before she's in front of me, forcing my hands away to do it for me. "So, uh… are you saying you don't want to feel me up then?"
Her playfulness makes me smile. It's nice to hear it again. "I don't think you'll ever hear me say that."
Stepping back, I sit down on the edge of the bed to pull on the pants before looking at her again. My eyes trail the slivers of exposed skin in the dim moonlight before meeting her eyes. She's watching me curiously, brow slightly furrowed.
