Wrong for Me Read online

  Yet that mouth of his, so beautifully shaped, was the same, and she had the same feelings about it now as she had back when she’d been crushing on him so bad so she couldn’t even look at him without blushing. Like she wanted to trace his lower lip with her finger, with her tongue....

  “Wrong,” Levi said, pulling on the strand of hair he had wrapped around his finger, sending a small prickle of pain over her scalp.

  She blinked, fighting not to give him any reaction to the small pain, or to the fact that she was, apparently, wrong. “You mean you don’t want a blow job then?”

  “Oh, I want one, all right. But only when I say so.” He tugged a little harder. “And I haven’t said so yet.”

  She swallowed, confused and trying not to show it. She’d been hoping that a night would be all he’d want, that all she’d need to do was give him that and it would all be over, her debt discharged.

  But clearly he had other ideas.

  “What? That not to your liking?” He gave her hair another tug, and for some reason she felt the pull of it like a current of electricity going straight down the middle of her body. “Unfortunately, that’s not up to you.”

  “Well, all right then.” She tried to concentrate on what he was saying and not on the tugging on her hair. “Perhaps you should tell me what you want then. The suspense is kind of killing me.”

  “I don’t give a fuck. I’ll tell you when I’m good and ready.” He rubbed his thumb back and forth along the strand of hair coiled around his finger, as if he was caressing it. “Why didn’t you talk to the police that night, Rachel?”

  Her mouth was dry. “I thought you didn’t want any explanations. I thought you didn’t give a shit.”

  “Maybe I changed my mind.” His gaze was a sword, pinning her in place while his thumb moved on her hair. “Call it curiosity.”

  A deeply buried anguish curled up inside her, and she wanted suddenly to get away, to get out of this room where he took up all the space and all the air, where she couldn’t breathe. Get out and away from him.

  But she couldn’t.

  You owe him this.

  She took another deep, silent breath. The truth was going to sound so pathetic, and there was no way to make it any less so. She was ashamed of it. She was ashamed of herself. “I was afraid,” she said baldly, attempting to keep her voice at least a little bit steady. “The police would have wanted to know why I was in that alley, and they would have investigated. They would have taken me away from Gran, and I couldn’t leave her. You know I couldn’t. She had no one else to look after her but me.”

  Again she couldn’t read the expression in his eyes; they were cold, hard. “And the next eight fucking years of complete silence? No phone calls. No letters. Not even an e-mail. Do I get any explanation for that?”

  She swallowed again, because her mouth was so damn dry, and her heartbeat felt like it was about to burst through her chest. “I thought you wouldn’t want to see me. I kept meaning to come, I swear. In fact, about six months after you went inside, I took a bus to St. Louis, and then . . .” She faltered, remembering the wave of fear that had gone through her at the halfway point of her trip, so bad she’d almost thrown up. The thought of seeing him in that place, looking at her with such hate. And even at that time she’d known he would hate her—after all, she was the reason he was there in the first place.

  “Then you chickened out,” he finished for her. There was no emotion in his tone, no hurt or betrayal. Just a flat stating of the facts that made her behavior sound somehow even worse than it already was.

  Her eyes felt sore, dry and prickling. But she hadn’t cried for years, and she wasn’t going to start now. Tears solved nothing. “I thought you’d hate me. I thought I’d be the last person in the world you’d want to see.” And the thought of seeing that hate in the eyes of the best friend she had in all the world . . . It had been too much.

  “How did you know that?” Levi asked in that same flat, cold tone. “You never even made the effort to find out.”

  What else could she say? She hadn’t. “No, you’re right.” There was a crack in her voice. “I didn’t.”

  “You were my best friend in the whole fucking world, and you left me to rot in jail.”

  The facts were like knives, cutting her. And all she could do was stand there and take it. “Yes.”

  “My father died while I was in jail. I never even got to go to his funeral.” He paused. “Because of you.”

  She wanted to close her eyes, protect herself somehow, pull on her angry, sarcastic armor. But she didn’t. She made herself look into his familiar and once-beloved face, made herself see the changes prison had made to him, bear the anger in his gaze. See the hate in it.

  Everything she’d feared was true. She’d lost him.

  Like that’s a shock. You lost him years ago.

  Grief turned over in her heart, but she shoved it away. She wasn’t going to let him see her hurt. She wasn’t going to be weak. “If it helps, I went for you.” Going to the funeral in his stead had been a pathetic attempt to make some kind of amends. But it wasn’t enough, and she had always known it wouldn’t be.

  The expression on his face didn’t alter. “If you think that changes things, you’re wrong.” He gave one final tug on her hair, then released it. “Raise your arms.”

  Swallowing her instinctive refusal at being told what to do, she did what he asked, slowly raising them above her head.

  Levi stepped forward, so close now they were almost touching, the scent of him swamping her, and her breath caught.

  Then he gripped the hem of her top and lifted it, pulling it up and over her head. Warm air slid over her bare skin, raising goose bumps along her arms and across her shoulders.

  She shivered as Levi tugged her top off and let it drop negligently onto the floor, leaving her wearing nothing but her bra. The way he looked at her made her feel like she was wearing nothing at all.

  He took a step back, his head tilting to one side, studying her as if she were a statue or a work of art and he couldn’t decide whether he liked it or not.

  The unease that had been swirling around in her gut deepened, and she couldn’t understand it. She’d been naked in front of a guy before, and, sure, it had been humiliating, but that had been years ago. So long she could barely even remember it.

  Yeah. Right.

  She ignored the snide thought. Made herself look back at Levi as if it didn’t matter that he was looking at her with all the intensity of a hunting tiger.

  “I used to imagine you naked a lot,” he murmured, his gaze running down over her body, a raw, hungry look glittering in his eyes. “In fact, that’s what kept me going all this time. Thinking about you naked and the things I’d like to do to you.”

  Her breathing accelerated, though she tried to calm it, her heart racing. She didn’t know how to feel about the things he was saying, didn’t know how to deal with them. She’d had no clue he felt that way about her, not one.

  “You never said anything.” A completely inane comment, but it was the only thing she could think of to say.

  “No, I didn’t. Because you weren’t there to say it to, obviously.” His attention rose once more to her face. “I used to imagine those things before I went inside too.”

  Shock went through her. “What do you mean before?”

  The lines of his face were so hard, the laughter that used to live in his eyes totally extinguished. “I wanted you when I shouldn’t have. When you were younger. You were so fucking beautiful. I used to dream about you at nights, used to get hard thinking of you. But I made sure you never knew.”

  She couldn’t seem to get a breath, her lungs encased in concrete. Jesus. If she’d known—

  If you’d known what? You wouldn’t have done what you did with Evan?

  Ah, but she’d had to do that. She hadn’t had any other option. “W-why? Why didn’t you say anything?”

  His gaze held hers, direct, inescapable. “You were too
young and too vulnerable. I wanted to take you away and give you the kind of life you deserved, not be living hand-to-mouth in some shitty apartment in Royal.”

  She felt like he’d hit her over the head and her ears were still ringing from the blow. “But you . . . But . . .”

  “I didn’t want to tell you, not until I had enough money for us both. Enough money to look after your gran and my dad, to get us a better life somewhere else.” The words were so cold, all the emotion stripped away. “But then you had to go to that alley behind Gino’s, try to do that deal, and it all went to shit.” He paused, and his attention dropped once more to the lace bra she wore. “Didn’t mean I stopped thinking about you though. Didn’t mean I stopped wanting you. Didn’t mean I stopped waiting for you.”

  She had to look away then, because it hurt. It just fucking hurt. Once she would have cut out her heart for the chance to be wanted by him, but then she’d made the first of her terrible mistakes, and, after that, she’d buried the want so deep she’d never felt it again.

  But with him so close now, she knew it burned there still. It had never gone away.

  Levi moved closer again, his heat a wave of warmth over her skin. And he reached out, sliding one finger under the strap of her bra where it rested on her shoulder. She went still, his touch searing all the remaining air from her lungs.

  He’d touched her before, many times. Hugs and kisses. An arm around her shoulders. A comforting pat here and there. But nothing like this.

  It felt like he was slowly running a flame over her skin.

  She trembled as he ran his finger back and forth, light and slow, his gaze fixed to her face, studying her reaction.

  “Has anyone touched you like this since I’ve been away, Rachel?” he asked softly.

  At least that was one truth she could give him. “N-No.”

  His finger slid around and over her collarbone, and she couldn’t understand why she was trembling. Those other touches he’d once given her hadn’t made her feel like this, as if her skin had gotten so tight she might burst out of it.

  “No one at all?”

  She couldn’t speak this time. What the hell was wrong with her? Why the hell was she feeling like this? It was only a touch, nothing more.

  “Why not?” His fingertip moved to the hollow of her throat and paused, resting there lightly.

  You know why not.

  Strange how difficult it was to think with his finger resting right there on her skin. With the heat of his body so close and that maddening, tantalizing smoky scent wrapping around her senses. It disturbed her, especially the ache that was beginning to form, right down low inside her. An ache she’d only ever felt when—

  She stopped the thought dead.

  “Because I don’t have time for that kind of thing,” she forced out. “I’m too busy.”

  “That’s not the reason.” He moved his finger back and forth, a light, tantalizing caress, and the ache inside her deepened. “I want to know, Rachel. I want to know who you’ve been seeing.”

  “Why?” She almost choked. “Why is that so important to you?”

  “You don’t get to ask the questions.” His stroking finger paused, pressing lightly against her pulse. “Only I do. Now tell me.”

  You can’t tell him the real reason. You can’t tell anyone.

  “I just didn’t meet anyone I wanted, okay?”

  Levi’s finger pressed a little harder. “What about me?”

  Her throat closed up, the ferocity of his gaze almost unbearable.

  “The truth.” His voice was a low growl, an order. “You owe me, Sunshine.”

  Sunshine.

  Bastard. How dare he use that name, knowing what it meant to her. What it meant to them both.

  Anger twisted through her, and she met his stare with something of her old challenge. “Does it matter? You’re going to take what you want from me anyway.”

  The light was behind him, glossing the deep, dark gold of his hair and shadowing his face. One eye was in darkness, the other bright and fierce, but something flickered through them, a shadow, a cloud passing over the sun.

  “Oh, it matters,” he murmured. “Because, no, I’m not going to take. I’m going to make you want to give it to me. I’m going to make you beg for it. I’m going to make it so you can’t think of anything else but me touching you.” He slid his finger up the column of her neck, trailing it lightly over her skin before taking her chin between his forefinger and thumb, holding her steady. “I’m going to make you so fucking desperate. Exactly the way you made me so fucking desperate.” The shadow had gone from his gaze now, only hunger and fierce determination glittering there.

  And she shivered again, deep in her soul. Frightened. Yet it was a fear that was intertwined with something else, a dark, intense thrill.

  Why the hell are you getting off on this? Or do you only like it when sex is a transaction?

  A long forgotten feeling swept through her, joining the confusing tangle already knotting in her gut. Shame. It burned like acid, corroding her insides.

  She pushed it savagely away. No, fuck, she wasn’t feeling that anymore, just like she wasn’t going to feel desire. She was done with both of those. So he wanted to make her want him? Well, she could do that. All she had to do was pretend, and she could pretend with the best of them. He’d never know the difference. After all, Evan hadn’t.

  His expression betrayed nothing, and, since her voice had gone missing, she remained silent. He released her chin. “Turn around.”

  She obeyed without protest, only to have every muscle lock as she felt his hands settle on the catch of her bra, undoing it. The straps slid off her shoulders, warm air moving over her bare skin as the fabric fell away, her breasts freed.

  Pretend. That’s all she had to do. Protect herself and pretend.

  He discarded her bra onto the floor.

  She stared at the office wall straight in front of her, every single atom of her awareness focused on the man behind her. He had to be standing close because she could feel his heat at her back.

  And then he touched her, that maddening finger resting on the nape of her neck before trailing lightly down the column of her spine, sending out little shockwaves of sensation, like ripples from a stone thrown into a quiet pond.

  She steeled herself against them, biting down on the shaky sound that threatened to escape as his finger came to rest on the small of her back. And it was only then that she remembered what she’d had Xavier tattoo there. It made her want to turn around, grab for something—anything—to protect herself with.

  But it was too late.

  “What’s this?” His finger moved on her skin, tracing the tattoo, the outline of a small sun with stylized rays extending from it.

  A black sun. A dark sun.

  “Is that what I think it is?” Levi murmured, his touch circling it, around and around.

  She’d had it done six months after he’d gone away for good. Black because she couldn’t bear color in it, and right down low on her spine so she’d always have it at her back. A private reminder that would mean nothing to anyone but herself.

  And Levi.

  Her jaw was tight, and she remained silent, not saying a word. She didn’t need to reply; he knew what it was and what it meant.

  He was quiet, his touch falling away, and there was a moment when the silence was so deafening it was like the aftermath of an explosion.

  Then voices came from downstairs, Gideon’s deep laugh and Zoe’s lighter one. Tamara saying something and Zee’s husky tones replying. The sounds of friendship and acceptance, of safety. Of family.

  It felt wrong to be up here, half-naked and trembling, while life went on downstairs. Wrong to let Levi touch her when the others were so close. What did they think was happening up here?

  Don’t think of that. You’re going to do this, give him what he wants to save your business, and then you’re going to move on. Like you did before.

  Levi’s hands were at th
e catch of her leather mini, and he was undoing it, pulling down the zipper, sliding the leather down her thighs, pulling the skirt down to her ankles and making her step out of it. Leaving her in nothing but her black lace panties and silver platform sandals.

  And as she had when he’d touched her back, she made sure she was steel. Ignoring the shivers that chased through her as she felt him come close again, as his hands pulled at the side of her panties, fabric tearing and falling away from her body so that she was naked except for her sandals.

  There was another dense, heavy, impossible silence.

  The heat behind her receded, and she heard him take a couple of steps back. But she didn’t make the mistake of thinking he was leaving, not when she could feel the weight of his gaze resting on her.

  This was nothing. She’d done this before. And then she’d imagined that she was on a beach, lying in the sun. It hadn’t touched her then. It wouldn’t touch her now.

  “I thought about you like this a lot,” Levi said, after what felt like years. “Standing naked in front of me. Ready to give me whatever I asked for.”

  Her heartbeat was loud in her head, and her palms felt damp. No, she was on the beach, and the sun was hot. That’s why she was hot. It was the sun, nothing else.

  The heat at her back returned, Levi coming close, and she stiffened despite everything. Then one of his hands came down on her hip, and the feel of his palm against her naked flesh nearly made her cry out. It burned her, seared her, left a scar on every sense she had.

  Calm the hell down. This is easy, remember?

  Yeah, she remembered. She was not here with Levi. She was at the fucking beach. There was sand underneath her, and she had a drink in her hand. And no one was touching her. No one at all.

  But he was, one arm sliding around her waist and pulling her up against him, so that the hard heat of his body was pressed to her spine. Keeping one hand on her hip, he rested the other flat on her stomach, his fingers pointing down, almost but not quite brushing the soft curls between her thighs.