Unconditional
Page 8
I expect Garrett to get mad, or cut his losses, but instead, he takes a step closer, so he’s pressed up against my chest and I can feel the heat from his body; feel his breath on my skin.
“You sure about that, darlin’?” He murmurs, his voice low and smoky. I should step back, I know, but I can’t help swaying towards him, closer, to hear the quiet drawl of his next words.
“Because judging by the chip on your shoulder and that stick up your ass, you haven’t been getting what you need for a long, long time.”
I gasp, stunned. How dare he?!
I open my mouth, preparing to give him hell, but before I can say a word, Garrett reaches out and trails a finger down the side of my bare neck.
I feel his touch through my whole body, hot and heady, a surge of fire. Our eyes lock, and something fills the air between us, shimmering in the fading dusk light. Something I haven’t felt in so long, I almost don’t recognize the pull snaking through me, clawing in my blood.
Desire.
I slap his hand away.
“Don’t touch me!” I exclaim, reeling from the sensations flooding through my body. God, what am I thinking, letting my hormones run riot like this? I’m acting crazy!
“Relax, sugar.” Garrett scowls at me, his charming grin hardening into flint and steel. “You’re not my type. I prefer my women flesh and blood, not stuck-up ice queens like you.”
His words cut through me.
An ice queen…That’s what Alexander calls me, when he’s drunk and I don’t have the energy to deal with his late-night groping. Like there’s something wrong with me to stay unmoved under his hands. Because I’m stuck-up, frigid, a bitch.
And he’s right. My resolve hardens. “You’re disgusting,” I tell Garrett, stepping back. But my heel skinks deep into the snow and I’m thrown off-balance. I let out a cry, struggling to keep upright.
Garrett reaches to catch me, but then stops and gives me a slow grin. “I won’t trouble you any longer,” he tells me, smirking. “You have a nice night.”
He turns and walks away, leaving me balanced on one leg in the snow.
“Wait!” I call after him, trying to get free. But my shoe is caught on something, I can’t pull it loose. “You can’t just leave me like this!”
My voice echoes after him, but Garrett keeps walking up the back steps. He slams the door behind him, and I’m left alone in the dark, cold night. “Garrett?” I yell, louder. “Garrett, get back here!”
3
I wake at dawn in my old twin bed, memories of the wedding drifting through my mind: the crunch of the snow underfoot, Garrett’s taunts, the surge of heat that blazed from his touch…
Some escape plan, I tell myself wryly. You leapt out of the frying pan and right into the fire.
Not that I’m burning to get to know Garrett any better. It doesn’t matter if there’s some inexplicable chemistry between us; he’s a charming, good-for-nothing guy, the kind of man to leave me stranded in the snow, and after his infuriating arrogance since I arrived, it’s clear nothing’s changed.
Still, I can’t help the image of him that lingers in my mind: the broad planes of his body, bronzed a dull gold in the moonlight, and those muscular arms…
Down, girl.
I roll under the covers, wishing I could stay here forever, hiding from the world. But I forgot to pull the drapes last night, and now the pink streaks of sunrise glow through the window. The light seeps behind my eyelids, insistent, and I roll over, staring up at the wallpaper peeling from the edge of the cracked ceiling. For a moment, I feel like I’ve travelled back in time ten years, to when I slept here as a teen. I half expect to hear Mom yelling from downstairs that the waffles are ready, and for the sound of Juliet’s footsteps to come tripping down the stairs from her attic room up above.
I never came when Mom called, I always wanted just a half hour more, snuggled in the warm sheets with the sunlight falling on the warm wooden floor. Eventually, she’d come knocking, and I’d sigh and whine and reluctantly slouch downstairs, bitching at them about this being a vacation. I’d ignore the food she cooked and grab a piece of fruit and my beach bag, taking off for the beach to work on my tan and text my friends about what a lame time I was having.
Now, my heart aches for all those mornings I took for granted. The precious moments with her that I wasted, tossing them aside like trash. Gone forever.
I force myself out of bed and down the hall. The door to the master bedroom is closed tight, and there’s no sound from inside as I pass. Good. I don’t want to deal with him right now—in fact, I’d rather not have to lay eyes on him again. If only I’d known he was here at the house at all before showing up…I think back to how he found me, and I don’t know whether to laugh or cry. From the height of the social scene to scrabbling on the floor like a common criminal; what a difference a few days makes.
Sadness spirals through me. It still doesn’t seem real to me. That one moment, a split-second, can change everything, turn all my hard work and plans to ash. The look in Alexander’s eyes, the sharp crack of his hand against my cheek…
I feel the now-familiar bump on the side of my head. It’s still tender, painful to the touch. There’s a bruise now, and I catch a flash of it in the mirror as I pass. I quickly pull my hair down to hide it, wondering how long it’ll be before it fades.
The bruises you can see.
I shake the dark whispers away and reach for my phone. Alexander hasn’t contacted me yet. No calls, no texts, nothing. I should be happy he’s giving me some space. That’s what I wanted, after all.
“You sure about that, darlin’?” He murmurs, his voice low and smoky. I should step back, I know, but I can’t help swaying towards him, closer, to hear the quiet drawl of his next words.
“Because judging by the chip on your shoulder and that stick up your ass, you haven’t been getting what you need for a long, long time.”
I gasp, stunned. How dare he?!
I open my mouth, preparing to give him hell, but before I can say a word, Garrett reaches out and trails a finger down the side of my bare neck.
I feel his touch through my whole body, hot and heady, a surge of fire. Our eyes lock, and something fills the air between us, shimmering in the fading dusk light. Something I haven’t felt in so long, I almost don’t recognize the pull snaking through me, clawing in my blood.
Desire.
I slap his hand away.
“Don’t touch me!” I exclaim, reeling from the sensations flooding through my body. God, what am I thinking, letting my hormones run riot like this? I’m acting crazy!
“Relax, sugar.” Garrett scowls at me, his charming grin hardening into flint and steel. “You’re not my type. I prefer my women flesh and blood, not stuck-up ice queens like you.”
His words cut through me.
An ice queen…That’s what Alexander calls me, when he’s drunk and I don’t have the energy to deal with his late-night groping. Like there’s something wrong with me to stay unmoved under his hands. Because I’m stuck-up, frigid, a bitch.
And he’s right. My resolve hardens. “You’re disgusting,” I tell Garrett, stepping back. But my heel skinks deep into the snow and I’m thrown off-balance. I let out a cry, struggling to keep upright.
Garrett reaches to catch me, but then stops and gives me a slow grin. “I won’t trouble you any longer,” he tells me, smirking. “You have a nice night.”
He turns and walks away, leaving me balanced on one leg in the snow.
“Wait!” I call after him, trying to get free. But my shoe is caught on something, I can’t pull it loose. “You can’t just leave me like this!”
My voice echoes after him, but Garrett keeps walking up the back steps. He slams the door behind him, and I’m left alone in the dark, cold night. “Garrett?” I yell, louder. “Garrett, get back here!”
3
I wake at dawn in my old twin bed, memories of the wedding drifting through my mind: the crunch of the snow underfoot, Garrett’s taunts, the surge of heat that blazed from his touch…
Some escape plan, I tell myself wryly. You leapt out of the frying pan and right into the fire.
Not that I’m burning to get to know Garrett any better. It doesn’t matter if there’s some inexplicable chemistry between us; he’s a charming, good-for-nothing guy, the kind of man to leave me stranded in the snow, and after his infuriating arrogance since I arrived, it’s clear nothing’s changed.
Still, I can’t help the image of him that lingers in my mind: the broad planes of his body, bronzed a dull gold in the moonlight, and those muscular arms…
Down, girl.
I roll under the covers, wishing I could stay here forever, hiding from the world. But I forgot to pull the drapes last night, and now the pink streaks of sunrise glow through the window. The light seeps behind my eyelids, insistent, and I roll over, staring up at the wallpaper peeling from the edge of the cracked ceiling. For a moment, I feel like I’ve travelled back in time ten years, to when I slept here as a teen. I half expect to hear Mom yelling from downstairs that the waffles are ready, and for the sound of Juliet’s footsteps to come tripping down the stairs from her attic room up above.
I never came when Mom called, I always wanted just a half hour more, snuggled in the warm sheets with the sunlight falling on the warm wooden floor. Eventually, she’d come knocking, and I’d sigh and whine and reluctantly slouch downstairs, bitching at them about this being a vacation. I’d ignore the food she cooked and grab a piece of fruit and my beach bag, taking off for the beach to work on my tan and text my friends about what a lame time I was having.
Now, my heart aches for all those mornings I took for granted. The precious moments with her that I wasted, tossing them aside like trash. Gone forever.
I force myself out of bed and down the hall. The door to the master bedroom is closed tight, and there’s no sound from inside as I pass. Good. I don’t want to deal with him right now—in fact, I’d rather not have to lay eyes on him again. If only I’d known he was here at the house at all before showing up…I think back to how he found me, and I don’t know whether to laugh or cry. From the height of the social scene to scrabbling on the floor like a common criminal; what a difference a few days makes.
Sadness spirals through me. It still doesn’t seem real to me. That one moment, a split-second, can change everything, turn all my hard work and plans to ash. The look in Alexander’s eyes, the sharp crack of his hand against my cheek…
I feel the now-familiar bump on the side of my head. It’s still tender, painful to the touch. There’s a bruise now, and I catch a flash of it in the mirror as I pass. I quickly pull my hair down to hide it, wondering how long it’ll be before it fades.
The bruises you can see.
I shake the dark whispers away and reach for my phone. Alexander hasn’t contacted me yet. No calls, no texts, nothing. I should be happy he’s giving me some space. That’s what I wanted, after all.
