Until I Break
Page 4
After a few seconds, he hands me the phone. “Alec Brand,” he says quietly. “And you are?”
“Samantha Jansen.”
“I’ll pick you up at seven, Samantha Jansen.”
He starts to move off, but I stop him. “Wouldn’t it help if you had my address?”
“I’ll find you,” he replies just before he turns and walks away.
CHAPTER SIX - Alec
Even after going home to change, fighting the traffic and spending a long day at the office, I’m still thinking about her. I know I shouldn’t have approached her this morning. That alone was like taking several steps backward in my progress. I know better than to involve a woman like her in the wreckage of my life.
But I just couldn’t help myself.
If I were half the man I should be, I’d stay away from her. I wouldn’t show up tonight. I wouldn’t call, I wouldn’t seek her out. I’d just disappear.
But I’m not the man I should be. Yet. My weaknesses still get the better of me now and then. And this one will. I know there’s no point in even trying to resist. I’ve already got her scent. She’s in my blood and I know there’s only one way to get her out.
I know how this will go. It’s sick that I take such pleasure in thinking of it. It’s not the ending devastation that excites me. I do feel guilty for not being able to love and commit to a woman like they want and need. But they know that going in. I’ve never misled any of them.
No, it’s the innocence of a woman like Samantha Jansen that excites me. Introducing her to new things, watching her body come to life, showing her how good I can make her feel, doing things to her that she never thought she would agree to, much less crave.
And crave she will. Just like I can see the innocence in her eyes, I can also see the sensual creature begging to be released.
And I’ll make sure I’m around just long enough to help her with that.
CHAPTER SEVEN - Samantha
I feel like an idiot. I’m standing in front of the mirror, making sure everything looks as good as I can make it, waiting for a guy that will likely never even show up.
I let Chris get inside my head. She has a tendency to blow things way out of proportion. Like today, for instance. She makes it seem like there were fireworks going off over our heads. Granted, at the time, it felt like there were. But now, in retrospect, when I think of him—Alec Brand—of what a man like him probably likes in a woman, of what he’s used to, I think Chris and I were both sorely mistaken. There’s no way he’d be interested in someone like me. He must’ve just been passing the time in the coffee shop.
Probably gets a kick out of striking women speechless.
I think to myself that Mason isn’t like that. Then I mentally slap my own cheek.
Snap out of it! He’s not Mason. Mason Strait isn’t real!
With a sigh of resignation, I check my phone once more. Still no word. No call. No text. No nothing. He’s definitely not coming.
Taking a deep breath, I run my fingers through my loose curls and give myself one last appraising look. My eyes are ringed with smoky shadow that nearly matches the soft sage dress I’m wearing. The color sets off the gray of my eyes and the deep red of my hair. Tonight, it cascades to the middle of my back. Below that is pale skin all the way to my waist.
I bite my brick-stained lip. I’ve never bought, much less worn such a dress before. It’s nothing Laura Drake would wear; it’s far too sexy and…accessible. Yet it’s nothing Samantha Jansen would wear either. It’s bold and risqué, colorful and confident, adjectives that don’t apply to me. They apply to Chris, though, and I have her to thank for the dress.
Grabbing the matching purse from my vanity and stuffing a few essentials into it, I shut off the light and make my way to the living room. There’s no use putting off the inevitable. Mom will just have to get over it when I show up alone.
Again.
I detour to the kitchen to make sure Jinx has water before I grab my keys and head for the door. I fling it open, never expecting to see Alec Brand standing on the other side of it.
Yet he is.
Startled, I gasp.
“Something wrong?” he asks in his deep voice, that one brow shooting up again
I want to say that nothing is wrong, that nothing in the whole entire world is wrong. That everything has never felt more right. But I don’t. Instead, I look him over. Drink him in. He goes down so smooth!
They say clothes make the man. I can honestly say that, in this case, the man makes the clothes.
Alec is dressed in a tuxedo. It’s nothing special, but he effortlessly turns the plain black suit and white shirt into something more, something dashing and debonair. Something dangerous. Very, very dangerous.
“If you’re going to look at me that way, I might need to warn you about me,” he says, taking a step toward me. Instinctively, I retreat. One side of his mouth quirks into a wry grin. “Or maybe you already know.”
“I—I don’t know what you mean,” I manage to squeeze out quietly over the pounding of my heart.
“I’m not the warm and fuzzy type, Samantha. It’s not my intention to make you feel love. I don’t have that kind of emotion in me. But there are other things I can give you, other things I can make you feel. Really feel.” His eyes are hooded as he looks down at me. He takes one more step forward. This time, I don’t back up. “Excitement,” he says, reaching up to wind one long, red curl around his finger. When his eyes meet mine, I feel like he’s doing the same thing to me—winding me around his finger. “Anticipation. Desire. Warmth. I can make you feel very, very warm.”
As though his words alone can evoke the sensation, I feel hot blood rush to the surface of my skin and pool in the lowest part of my belly.
“You might even feel a little fear,” he continues softly. “But even that can be intoxicating in its own way.”
I’m mesmerized by his words, caught off guard by his honesty. I’m surprised and I’m a little afraid. But I’m also all in. I feel it in my bones, just like I feel that there will be some part of me that will live to regret it.
“But not tonight,” he says, moving away from me, giving me room to breathe as if he knew I had none. But even with more space between us, I’m still breathless. I have a feeling I will always be this way in his presence. The question is: How long can I survive without air? “Tonight is your one free pass. Just know that the next time you look at me this way, I’ll feel compelled to do something about it.” Alec walks to the door and opens it, sweeping his arm out in front of him, asking me casually, as if he didn’t just drop that little bomb on me, “Shall we, Samantha?”
That question is full of so much more than just the request to follow him to the door or to the fundraiser. He’s inviting me into his world, into the place he described. A place of excitement and anticipation, both of which I can already feel. And fear. And I can feel a little bit of that already, too.
I know I should hesitate longer over my response. But I don’t. Instead, on numb legs and with butterflies in my stomach, I walk toward him.
I stop in front of him. My eyes drift up to lock on his.
I say nothing. But I don’t really have to. I suppose my action speaks volumes. And Alec understands it. I know this when he leans forward just enough to whisper in my ear, “I hope that’s still your answer tomorrow.”
I don’t respond. I know he doesn’t expect it. I simply let him lead me from the room. Lead me on. Despite the risk, I can’t not go with him. I can’t not see, not feel, not try.
Mason bends the woman over his arm, his hand gliding up the glistening space between her breasts. His long fingers splay across the width of her neck, the tips coming to rest along her jawline. Her chest rises and falls with her excitement as he nudges her head to one side, exposing her throbbing artery.
And then, as I watch through the small part in the curtains, he bares his sharp, deadly teeth.
Like Daire, I see the fangs. I feel the danger.
It’s just that neither makes a difference.
CHAPTER EIGHT - Alec
The place where the fundraiser is being held isn’t far from Samantha’s condo. I had already been invited to it, actually. I work with several big hospitals across Georgia and North Carolina. South Carolina as well. It’s not surprising that they’d invite me. Had I known someone like Samantha would be there, I would’ve made a point to go.
Or maybe I would’ve found a good reason to stay away, a better reason than just the fact that I should.
She’s quiet all the way there. I know what she’s thinking. She’s wondering why she agreed to a deal with the devil. She might be reconsidering. But she won’t change her mind. I’ve known a lot of women like her. She’ll see this through. Curiosity will get the best of her. And then, in the end, so will I.
I shouldn’t be looking forward to this. I should see it as a failure. It’s been a long time since I’ve given in to my…predilection.
In some ways, the guilt is a good thing. It means I’m still on the mend, that I’ve managed to put some things into perspective. But the fact that I’m doing it anyway means I’ve still got a long way to go.
Maybe after this one time, maybe after I get it out of my system, I can make some more forward progress.
Maybe.
CHAPTER NINE - Samantha
The valet pulls away from the curb in Alec’s sleek, black Range Rover, leaving us standing alone on the sidewalk. We arrived in plenty of time. This event doesn’t officially start until eight. But most people come early to mingle. No doubt the inside is packed.
My stomach twists into a knot when Alec offers me his arm. His eyes are drilling holes into mine. I wonder if he’s always so intense.
I reach out and curl my fingers around his bicep. It flexes beneath my touch, tightening and making me shiver.
He’s in wonderful physical condition, as I knew he would be. I’ve seen every inch of him in my head, only, up until now, I’ve called him Mason.
I’d be willing to bet that Alec is equally beautiful. Like déjà vu, I recall words written in the pages of a book. My book. Only now Mason seems very, very real.
Mason’s smooth bronze skin gleams in the low light. Through the clear glass of the shower door, I can see the perfectly formed muscles in his arms move and shift as he drags the soap over his chest. I’m the maid. I shouldn’t be watching him this way, but I can’t seem to help myself. I can’t seem to make my feet carry me away from the door.
This isn’t the first time I’ve seen him in the shower. Or lying na**d in the bed. Or worshipping a nameless, faceless woman’s body with his lips and his hands and his body. More than ever, I want to be the one beneath him. But more than ever, I know he would leave nothing but wreckage in his wake. He’s too much for a girl like me.
Still yet, if he ever turned those knowing green eyes on me in invitation, I know what my answer would be.
Once again, I’m forced to remind myself that this isn’t Mason, that Mason isn’t real. And that’s probably a good thing. Mason breaks hearts. He can’t help himself. It’s what broken people do.
I feel short of breath and lightheaded as we walk through the doors into the elaborate foyer of the ballroom. My step falters and I squeeze Alec’s arm to keep my balance. He looks down at me, at first in question, but then his expression changes.
He looks quizzically into my eyes before he scans my face. “You’re blushing,” he states. There’s a long pause before he continues. “Maybe tomorrow you can show me what you were thinking about.”
He continues staring for a few seconds more before he urges me into a slow walk at his side. “Smile,” he says as we enter the main room. “Or people will think you’ve been doing something you shouldn’t.”
I glance up at him to judge his expression, but I see only his profile.
How does he do that?
It’s like he’s inside my head.
As well as under my skin.
Following Alec’s suggestion, I plaster a smile on my face and look casually around the room. I doubt anyone here would guess that I’m wondering how I got here. And I don’t mean “here” as in this address. I mean “here” as in so wrapped up in a man I’ve only just met.
Only it doesn’t feel like we just met. It feels as though I’ve known him longer, that I know him intimately.
I’m relieved when I spot Chris across the sea of glamorously clothed patrons. Within seconds, she looks up and sees me, too. I watch as she makes her excuses to the couple to whom she’s talking and starts toward us.
As she moves closer, I have a moment of insecurity about masquerading as something I’m not—a gorgeous, confident woman. Like Chris.
She’s like a cover model come to life in a scarlet sheath that sets off her golden skin and platinum hair. She’s just the type of arm candy one would expect to see with a man like Alec Brand. I’m nothing more than an imposter. A wallflower in a clever costume. But surely no one’s fooled. Surely they can see the real me.
I glance at Alec from the corner of my eye. His face gives away nothing.
“You’re here,” Chris says enthusiastically as she glides up to my side.
“Of course,” I say, as if there was no doubt, which there absolutely was.
“You say that as if it was a foregone conclusion that you’d be here.”
“Wasn’t it?”
Chris rolls her eyes. “Are we even talking about the same person?”
“Where’s Mom?” I ask, redirecting her.
Chris cranes her neck, looking toward the center of the room. “Oh, she’s somewhere around here. You know she’ll find you before long. That woman has a sixth sense.”
“Samantha Jansen.”
“I’ll pick you up at seven, Samantha Jansen.”
He starts to move off, but I stop him. “Wouldn’t it help if you had my address?”
“I’ll find you,” he replies just before he turns and walks away.
CHAPTER SIX - Alec
Even after going home to change, fighting the traffic and spending a long day at the office, I’m still thinking about her. I know I shouldn’t have approached her this morning. That alone was like taking several steps backward in my progress. I know better than to involve a woman like her in the wreckage of my life.
But I just couldn’t help myself.
If I were half the man I should be, I’d stay away from her. I wouldn’t show up tonight. I wouldn’t call, I wouldn’t seek her out. I’d just disappear.
But I’m not the man I should be. Yet. My weaknesses still get the better of me now and then. And this one will. I know there’s no point in even trying to resist. I’ve already got her scent. She’s in my blood and I know there’s only one way to get her out.
I know how this will go. It’s sick that I take such pleasure in thinking of it. It’s not the ending devastation that excites me. I do feel guilty for not being able to love and commit to a woman like they want and need. But they know that going in. I’ve never misled any of them.
No, it’s the innocence of a woman like Samantha Jansen that excites me. Introducing her to new things, watching her body come to life, showing her how good I can make her feel, doing things to her that she never thought she would agree to, much less crave.
And crave she will. Just like I can see the innocence in her eyes, I can also see the sensual creature begging to be released.
And I’ll make sure I’m around just long enough to help her with that.
CHAPTER SEVEN - Samantha
I feel like an idiot. I’m standing in front of the mirror, making sure everything looks as good as I can make it, waiting for a guy that will likely never even show up.
I let Chris get inside my head. She has a tendency to blow things way out of proportion. Like today, for instance. She makes it seem like there were fireworks going off over our heads. Granted, at the time, it felt like there were. But now, in retrospect, when I think of him—Alec Brand—of what a man like him probably likes in a woman, of what he’s used to, I think Chris and I were both sorely mistaken. There’s no way he’d be interested in someone like me. He must’ve just been passing the time in the coffee shop.
Probably gets a kick out of striking women speechless.
I think to myself that Mason isn’t like that. Then I mentally slap my own cheek.
Snap out of it! He’s not Mason. Mason Strait isn’t real!
With a sigh of resignation, I check my phone once more. Still no word. No call. No text. No nothing. He’s definitely not coming.
Taking a deep breath, I run my fingers through my loose curls and give myself one last appraising look. My eyes are ringed with smoky shadow that nearly matches the soft sage dress I’m wearing. The color sets off the gray of my eyes and the deep red of my hair. Tonight, it cascades to the middle of my back. Below that is pale skin all the way to my waist.
I bite my brick-stained lip. I’ve never bought, much less worn such a dress before. It’s nothing Laura Drake would wear; it’s far too sexy and…accessible. Yet it’s nothing Samantha Jansen would wear either. It’s bold and risqué, colorful and confident, adjectives that don’t apply to me. They apply to Chris, though, and I have her to thank for the dress.
Grabbing the matching purse from my vanity and stuffing a few essentials into it, I shut off the light and make my way to the living room. There’s no use putting off the inevitable. Mom will just have to get over it when I show up alone.
Again.
I detour to the kitchen to make sure Jinx has water before I grab my keys and head for the door. I fling it open, never expecting to see Alec Brand standing on the other side of it.
Yet he is.
Startled, I gasp.
“Something wrong?” he asks in his deep voice, that one brow shooting up again
I want to say that nothing is wrong, that nothing in the whole entire world is wrong. That everything has never felt more right. But I don’t. Instead, I look him over. Drink him in. He goes down so smooth!
They say clothes make the man. I can honestly say that, in this case, the man makes the clothes.
Alec is dressed in a tuxedo. It’s nothing special, but he effortlessly turns the plain black suit and white shirt into something more, something dashing and debonair. Something dangerous. Very, very dangerous.
“If you’re going to look at me that way, I might need to warn you about me,” he says, taking a step toward me. Instinctively, I retreat. One side of his mouth quirks into a wry grin. “Or maybe you already know.”
“I—I don’t know what you mean,” I manage to squeeze out quietly over the pounding of my heart.
“I’m not the warm and fuzzy type, Samantha. It’s not my intention to make you feel love. I don’t have that kind of emotion in me. But there are other things I can give you, other things I can make you feel. Really feel.” His eyes are hooded as he looks down at me. He takes one more step forward. This time, I don’t back up. “Excitement,” he says, reaching up to wind one long, red curl around his finger. When his eyes meet mine, I feel like he’s doing the same thing to me—winding me around his finger. “Anticipation. Desire. Warmth. I can make you feel very, very warm.”
As though his words alone can evoke the sensation, I feel hot blood rush to the surface of my skin and pool in the lowest part of my belly.
“You might even feel a little fear,” he continues softly. “But even that can be intoxicating in its own way.”
I’m mesmerized by his words, caught off guard by his honesty. I’m surprised and I’m a little afraid. But I’m also all in. I feel it in my bones, just like I feel that there will be some part of me that will live to regret it.
“But not tonight,” he says, moving away from me, giving me room to breathe as if he knew I had none. But even with more space between us, I’m still breathless. I have a feeling I will always be this way in his presence. The question is: How long can I survive without air? “Tonight is your one free pass. Just know that the next time you look at me this way, I’ll feel compelled to do something about it.” Alec walks to the door and opens it, sweeping his arm out in front of him, asking me casually, as if he didn’t just drop that little bomb on me, “Shall we, Samantha?”
That question is full of so much more than just the request to follow him to the door or to the fundraiser. He’s inviting me into his world, into the place he described. A place of excitement and anticipation, both of which I can already feel. And fear. And I can feel a little bit of that already, too.
I know I should hesitate longer over my response. But I don’t. Instead, on numb legs and with butterflies in my stomach, I walk toward him.
I stop in front of him. My eyes drift up to lock on his.
I say nothing. But I don’t really have to. I suppose my action speaks volumes. And Alec understands it. I know this when he leans forward just enough to whisper in my ear, “I hope that’s still your answer tomorrow.”
I don’t respond. I know he doesn’t expect it. I simply let him lead me from the room. Lead me on. Despite the risk, I can’t not go with him. I can’t not see, not feel, not try.
Mason bends the woman over his arm, his hand gliding up the glistening space between her breasts. His long fingers splay across the width of her neck, the tips coming to rest along her jawline. Her chest rises and falls with her excitement as he nudges her head to one side, exposing her throbbing artery.
And then, as I watch through the small part in the curtains, he bares his sharp, deadly teeth.
Like Daire, I see the fangs. I feel the danger.
It’s just that neither makes a difference.
CHAPTER EIGHT - Alec
The place where the fundraiser is being held isn’t far from Samantha’s condo. I had already been invited to it, actually. I work with several big hospitals across Georgia and North Carolina. South Carolina as well. It’s not surprising that they’d invite me. Had I known someone like Samantha would be there, I would’ve made a point to go.
Or maybe I would’ve found a good reason to stay away, a better reason than just the fact that I should.
She’s quiet all the way there. I know what she’s thinking. She’s wondering why she agreed to a deal with the devil. She might be reconsidering. But she won’t change her mind. I’ve known a lot of women like her. She’ll see this through. Curiosity will get the best of her. And then, in the end, so will I.
I shouldn’t be looking forward to this. I should see it as a failure. It’s been a long time since I’ve given in to my…predilection.
In some ways, the guilt is a good thing. It means I’m still on the mend, that I’ve managed to put some things into perspective. But the fact that I’m doing it anyway means I’ve still got a long way to go.
Maybe after this one time, maybe after I get it out of my system, I can make some more forward progress.
Maybe.
CHAPTER NINE - Samantha
The valet pulls away from the curb in Alec’s sleek, black Range Rover, leaving us standing alone on the sidewalk. We arrived in plenty of time. This event doesn’t officially start until eight. But most people come early to mingle. No doubt the inside is packed.
My stomach twists into a knot when Alec offers me his arm. His eyes are drilling holes into mine. I wonder if he’s always so intense.
I reach out and curl my fingers around his bicep. It flexes beneath my touch, tightening and making me shiver.
He’s in wonderful physical condition, as I knew he would be. I’ve seen every inch of him in my head, only, up until now, I’ve called him Mason.
I’d be willing to bet that Alec is equally beautiful. Like déjà vu, I recall words written in the pages of a book. My book. Only now Mason seems very, very real.
Mason’s smooth bronze skin gleams in the low light. Through the clear glass of the shower door, I can see the perfectly formed muscles in his arms move and shift as he drags the soap over his chest. I’m the maid. I shouldn’t be watching him this way, but I can’t seem to help myself. I can’t seem to make my feet carry me away from the door.
This isn’t the first time I’ve seen him in the shower. Or lying na**d in the bed. Or worshipping a nameless, faceless woman’s body with his lips and his hands and his body. More than ever, I want to be the one beneath him. But more than ever, I know he would leave nothing but wreckage in his wake. He’s too much for a girl like me.
Still yet, if he ever turned those knowing green eyes on me in invitation, I know what my answer would be.
Once again, I’m forced to remind myself that this isn’t Mason, that Mason isn’t real. And that’s probably a good thing. Mason breaks hearts. He can’t help himself. It’s what broken people do.
I feel short of breath and lightheaded as we walk through the doors into the elaborate foyer of the ballroom. My step falters and I squeeze Alec’s arm to keep my balance. He looks down at me, at first in question, but then his expression changes.
He looks quizzically into my eyes before he scans my face. “You’re blushing,” he states. There’s a long pause before he continues. “Maybe tomorrow you can show me what you were thinking about.”
He continues staring for a few seconds more before he urges me into a slow walk at his side. “Smile,” he says as we enter the main room. “Or people will think you’ve been doing something you shouldn’t.”
I glance up at him to judge his expression, but I see only his profile.
How does he do that?
It’s like he’s inside my head.
As well as under my skin.
Following Alec’s suggestion, I plaster a smile on my face and look casually around the room. I doubt anyone here would guess that I’m wondering how I got here. And I don’t mean “here” as in this address. I mean “here” as in so wrapped up in a man I’ve only just met.
Only it doesn’t feel like we just met. It feels as though I’ve known him longer, that I know him intimately.
I’m relieved when I spot Chris across the sea of glamorously clothed patrons. Within seconds, she looks up and sees me, too. I watch as she makes her excuses to the couple to whom she’s talking and starts toward us.
As she moves closer, I have a moment of insecurity about masquerading as something I’m not—a gorgeous, confident woman. Like Chris.
She’s like a cover model come to life in a scarlet sheath that sets off her golden skin and platinum hair. She’s just the type of arm candy one would expect to see with a man like Alec Brand. I’m nothing more than an imposter. A wallflower in a clever costume. But surely no one’s fooled. Surely they can see the real me.
I glance at Alec from the corner of my eye. His face gives away nothing.
“You’re here,” Chris says enthusiastically as she glides up to my side.
“Of course,” I say, as if there was no doubt, which there absolutely was.
“You say that as if it was a foregone conclusion that you’d be here.”
“Wasn’t it?”
Chris rolls her eyes. “Are we even talking about the same person?”
“Where’s Mom?” I ask, redirecting her.
Chris cranes her neck, looking toward the center of the room. “Oh, she’s somewhere around here. You know she’ll find you before long. That woman has a sixth sense.”
