The Courage to Love, page 11
“Yeah.”
The kid grinned at that. “I thought so.” His accent pegged him for Eastern European, maybe Polish, but he was bright-eyed over their nationality.
“Do you have any rooms for rent?” Ian asked.
“Sure, man, we have rooms. Anything you need.”
“Here or somewhere quieter?” He took Nicole’s hand. Her fingers were freezing, which was saying something, since his were as well.
The kid’s badge spelled out ‘Isaac’ in big, bold letters. “There’s Danny over there. He has a chateau, but we have rooms here. Plus, there are tons of places in town. Not so many tourists during the week.” He eyed the booth. “Did you lose your luggage, too?”
“They were lost on the flight,” Ian lied. “Luckily we have our carry-on.”
“That sucks. I had that happen once.”
Ian settled down. Isaac was a fountain of information, but right now he needed to finish this exchange so he could talk to Nicole—Andy—and half of what the kid was saying was going to have to be repeated. “Yeah, we’re gonna have to restock because there’s no chance we’re heading back out in this. But can we book without ID? Ours are tied up with the luggage.” Next to him, Nicole stiffened but didn’t contradict him.
Isaac was on board with that. He nodded with a quick glance around. “Sure. No problem. Owner’s from Toronto. He doesn’t care, as long as he’s paid.”
Nicole laughed. “A Canadian, huh?”
“Yep. Ex-Olympic skier. He says this is the best skiing in the world, right here. I’ll get you a room set up and some beers sent over. No worries.”
As soon as he left, she tried to pull her hand away.
He held on. “Stop it. You’re cold.”
“So are you.”
“So, warm my hand.” He smiled to soften the tease.
“I’d rather not.” She tugged hard. He let her go. “Here… I don’t want this.” She shoved the jacket at him but he put it on the table.
He kept his mouth sealed but felt the spike in adrenaline from her jab. He coaxed his hard-on to the side and reminded himself that in less than an hour he would have her to himself without a room full of witnesses.
“I need to pee.”
“Not happening. Hold it until we get—”
“If I get blood on my cords that means new clothes. How much money do you have, Ian?”
Damn, he liked her saying his name. Being Steven had sucked because it had been ‘Steven’ she’d cried out in orgasm. There was a jab behind that sharp question, one he couldn’t quite pin down. “I have enough.”
Her eyebrows swept up then lowered in a frown. “Do you? Well, if I’m bloody, I’m going to be pissed. If I’m pissed, you’re going to suffer. Believe me, more than you ever dreamed.”
He was impressed. She meant every word, even though he suspected he was bluffing. He shoved out of the booth and watched her do the same. He let her think she’d won for ten seconds. As soon as she realized he was behind her, she halted—or tried to. He took her arm and herded her forward. “If you have to piss, you’re going to do it with me right there.”
“Great. Can you help me with the tampon, too?”
“Sure thing.” He shouldered the bathroom door open, stepped in with her and twisted the lock on the doorknob after. “Go ahead.”
He bet his last dime she’d balk and throw a tantrum like she’d done twice already. Instead, she dropped her backpack, reached for her cords, slipped them and a pair of sexy bubble-gum-pink panties down and sat. A second later, her eyes fixed on his with a steady pissed-off stare, she peed. “Hand me a tampon, will you?”
Unbelieving, he took a second to shake off how damn sexy she looked sitting on the toilet, brown pants around her slim thighs, then he bent for the backpack. “Where—?”
“Front pocket, pink zipper pouch.”
He found the pouch, pulled the thing open and stared at the odd assortment of makeup and tissue.
“Here. I’ll get it. Do you mind?” She jerked the pouch away from him and glared.
“I’ll pay to watch.”
That got her attention focused on him with such heat that sweat beaded on his spine. He almost shivered but held himself rock-still, wary and so turned on that his cock was a steady pulse.
“Oh? What if I want something more than money?”
“Name it.” He was so aroused that his balls felt like lead. She’d pissed in front of him and now sat there, so damn hot, discussing a wager like she didn’t care a wit about anything. He was on the countdown to eruption.
“I bet you wouldn’t give it to me.”
“Name it.”
Big green eyes on him, she whispered, “Separate rooms.”
“Not a fuc—”
“Then turn around and face the door, asshole.”
His temper spiked. Something about her calling him names got to him. Nicole, the perfect well-mannered girl who couldn’t even say ‘darn’, now threw insults at him left and right. ‘I don’t do nice,’ she’d told him. She’d revealed more since he’d gotten her back than in the entire length of their marriage. He wasn’t pretending with her anymore, either.
“You’re pushing me—”
“I haven’t even begun to push you,” she said, already digging out a cotton tampon.
If she were really on her period, wouldn’t she have had to take the other one out? He was sure she’d been lying, because when he’d had his fingers in her, he’d not felt a damn thing other than her. Still, he could play. “A bit tiny, huh?”
“It’s not a dildo. I like those bigger.”
His gaze landed on hers with such speed that he stood there, mouth hanging open, as the word ‘dildo’ vibrated around the small room. “Who are you and why the hell did you hide from me all this time?”
“Turn around, Steven, or Ian, or asshole—whichever you prefer.”
He turned around and crossed his arms. “I’d give you a million bucks to watch.”
“Do you have a million bucks?”
“I do. I didn’t need your money, baby.” He was so hard that she could have broken a bottle on his erection and not hurt him. “Now, a million?”
“Sorry, all done.”
He turned hastily and got to watch her tug her cords back up her lush ass. If she’d taken out a tampon, it was nowhere in sight. Her heart-shaped face was tense when he could drag his eyes upward. Anger sizzled in her eyes, and, for some reason, it burned a path down his aching body.
“How many more days for your period?”
“That kind of information is none of your business.” She washed her hands for so long that he grumbled about it. “I want to smell good, not like you.”
He snorted. “I smell great.” He might have missed a few showers, but he didn’t reek.
“Uh, whatever you tell yourself.”
She turned, and he’d had enough. He backed her to the wall. “I have no control when you show me how strong you are. I want to tie you up and fuck that smart ass until you’re so far gone you beg me not to stop. Keep pushing me. See what happens.”
Her face paled then burned a bright pink, but her lips quirked into a smile he swore made his cock hurt as if she’d slammed her knee into it.
“Oh? You want to spank me, Ian? Show me what a man you are? Have me take it up the ass until I know you’re the boss?”
He had fantasies, but none of them were about showing her he was the boss. It was about pleasure, making her so addicted to it—to him—that she never wanted to leave. “I want to make—”
“I am never going to fuck you, suck you or let you touch me. I am saying no, now, tomorrow, forever. There is no us. There is nothing you can say that will change that.”
Every muscle in his body tensed in denial. There was no way he was letting her go. “Don’t dare me to make you a liar.”
“I’m not daring you. I’m telling you the facts,” she whispered.
“Oh?” He heard the catch in her voice, saw the nervous swallow and was more sure than ever that she was lying about her period because she was aroused to the point he could feel her heat. “I think you’re lying. I think you’re so turned on by the idea of us having sex in this toilet that your panties are soaked.”
She struggled to pull away but hissed out a breath of frustration and stopped. It was so cute that his grin grew. No doubt if her hands were free she’d have hit him.
He tried to explain what he’d meant but all he got out was, “I don’t—”
“If my panties are soaked, I do blame you. I had to pee.”
“Liar.” He hitched her higher so she could feel his cock along the inside of her thigh. “I know when my wife is hot. You’re soaking wet.”
“You’re an—”
“If you want to go out and drink that beer, you’re going to stop calling me names, Andy.”
“Oh, good boy. You remembered. But guess what, asshole? You’re the one not going to drink that beer.”
He frowned at the odd note in her voice as something heavy and damn hard hit him right behind his ear. He slipped, falling backward as Andy’s surprised face blurred.
Did she clock me with my own gun?
Chapter Thirteen
“Oh shit!” Andy covered her mouth with her hands to keep in a small scream. Ian lying there on the cold bathroom floor was so shocking that she couldn’t comprehend she’d hit him. “I warned you. I told you to stop threatening me. I warned you.”
Somehow, that didn’t seem to dispel her horror. She bent and gently turned his head, seeing a bump but no blood.
He’d once told her that he could withstand any kind of punch, but a hit on the back of his head, right above the ear, would end the fight. Of course, he’d been drinking, and he’d also beaten that creep up for touching her, but now, having done it, she realized he’d been telling the truth.
Her heart felt so tight in her chest that she thought she might have a heart attack. I hit him! Hurt him, like I’ve been doing since he showed back up. Her anger was still there, the unreasonable, jittery betrayal and pain. It’s not all his fault, but he’s better off without me. I could have killed him! She stroked his silky hair, feeling tears building up at how soft and fine it felt under her fingers. How can I love him so much and be so angry with him? The way her fingers trembled, she knew she had to leave. It was either that or stay and explain that she couldn’t keep from bashing his head in. A smile broke through the painful thoughts, making her feel even more unstable.
He’s going to kill me for certain. With that thought, she grabbed her pack, scurried out of the bathroom and ran smack into Isaac the server.
“Oh, hey, I got you a room and some beers.”
She tried to stand still. “Yeah? Oh, great, my…boyfriend is sick. I think he needs to rest. Is the room upstairs?”
Isaac cast a worried glance toward the bathroom door then back to her. “Sick?”
“An upset stomach. That’s all. You know…travel.”
He grimaced and nodded. “Yeah, the water. Man, he shouldn’t drink the water. It messes with the pipes. Anyway, here’s the keys. You wanna sign?”
“Sure. Here, here’s cash, you know, until our luggage arrives.” She handed him a wad of euros from her backpack, but she could afford it. She walked as she talked, guiding him away from the bathroom, smiling and trying her best not to appear terrified. Her stomach rioted and her instincts wanted her to rush back and check on Steven. Then she remembered his lies, his actions and his attitude that she should open her arms and legs for him, and poof, she was better.
She got the keys, managed to chit-chat with Isaac and not show how frightened she was feeling. Finally, she sighed as if worried. “Okay, let me check on him. Can you save our booth?”
“Sure thing. It’s no problem.”
She smiled sweetly at him and he got so flustered that he dropped her cash, picked it up then grew so red that he stammered, “S-Sure th-thing.”
She rushed into action as soon as he’d left. She stuffed the keys in Steven’s—Ian’s—jacket pocket where he’d left it at the table, gathered it up and raced back to the bathroom. No one was there, again, thank God. She pried open the door, saw him still out, threw the jacket at his head and pulled the lock then slammed the door, thankful for old-fashioned locks.
It was so quick that she leaned against the door, not quite believing he wasn’t shouting on the other side of it.
“Now to get out of here.” She put words to motion and headed for the door, spied a store across the street and within minutes was buying a new jacket, gloves, scarf and a hat. She stuffed herself into the jacket, tucked the hat over her hair and checked for Ian at the entrance. The street was empty. There was no one coming out of the pub. Unbelievable.
Her heart raced, but she walked out, expecting his holler to stop her any second. It never did. She kept walking, turning a few times until she couldn’t have found the first hotel, even if she’d wanted to. I don’t want to. I don’t want to check on him. Or see him. Or…feel him making love to me.
“God, I suck.” Down a narrow street, she found a hotel with a ‘vacant’ sign and, better, a woman running it who had only a little English but didn’t mind a foreigner with cash but no ID.
Once in her tiny room, she shed the jacket, winter gear and boots, then paced. What have I done? I lost my temper. I hit him. I left him on a dirty bathroom floor!
“He deserved it for watching me pee. He should have turned. He should have left! He should have…” She collapsed on the bed. “He loves me. He said he loves me and is trying to protect me.” That shot. It would have killed me. They didn’t even know it was me and they wanted to kill me. Why? Devon needs me alive. Was that shot for Ian? She covered her mouth with both hands. “What if it was him they’d wanted to kill?”
She paced again until she spotted the tiny bottles of alcohol. The first one was so rough on her throat that she choked and spluttered. By the time she’d finished three and rung for a bottle of wine, she was well on her way to not caring about anyone, especially her lying, cheating, adorable, sexy husband.
* * * *
Ian startled out of a dream that had his blood chilled where Nicole—only it was Andy—had her eyes open and sightless, her hair flowing around her head and water bubbles escaping her lifeless lips.
He blinked his new surroundings into focus then shot unsteadily to his feet. His head rang, along with his phone.
She hit me. His gun was by his feet, his jacket and…a set of hotel keys jingled when he moved. He jerked the door, but it was locked. He fumbled with that, wondering what the hell she had been thinking, locking him in the bathroom. It hit him. She didn’t want anyone to find me! The little… He pulled his phone out, checked the caller ID and ignored the call for now. As he walked, he searched the busy pub for the waiter, spotting him by the bar. Isaac gave him a startled, guilty duck of his head and took off before Ian could reach him, but Ian caught up, now certain the kid knew there was a problem. “Where’s my wife?”
“Uh, dude… I thought she was your girlfriend.”
He tightened his hold on the boy’s arm.
“She left! I saw her head to the store,” Isaac admitted.
Ian must have looked as pissed as he felt because the kid hurried to add, “I went out to have a smoke and saw her inside. She was buying some clothes then she went up the street. I swear.”
He dropped the kid and shoved his way through the crowded bar to the door. Outside, the cold air brought back a bit of his intelligence. She was close. There was no way she’d made it far. He checked his watch. Half an hour. When I find her… He stalked across the street, berating himself for pushing her.
Now that he had time to think about what he’d said, he could see how she might have taken his threats of amazing sex for threats of another kind. She should know better. I would never lay a hand on her. But he couldn’t lie to himself. She had been angry, because she thought the wrong thing. He should have explained right away, shown her what he meant with another orgasm. Anything. I get her back, have a chance and fuck it up? How is this possible?
The store clerk, another young stud, remembered her and pointed him in the right direction. Every man in the town older than twelve seemed to know her. He found a pair of size five bootprints in the snow. He followed them down a street then another and turned down one more. There, at a corner, he found a hotel.
The woman outside was turning the vacant sign around. He prayed to all the powers that be that he’d scored and explained his situation—or what he thought would get him inside. As soon as he got out that he’d been trying to get their luggage, she broke out in smiles and guided him in, showing him Andy’s signature, and his breathing turned back to normal.
“Your wife ordered wine. I had it taken up not ten minutes ago. She is waiting on you, I think.” There was a smile in her eyes that he hoped his wife shared. Ten seconds later he was at the door, turning the knob and cursing when it opened. She didn’t even lock the door?
Andy turned—wine in hand—nearly fell backward, wove forward and pointed the bottle at him with an unsteadiness that had his heart racing.
“Ah-ha! I knew I wasted panic on you. You’re a jerk! A big, fat, lying jerk! I should have hit you harder. If I were you, buster, I’d step back outside where it’s safe.”
He chose to lift his hand in a clear peace sign and closed the door. “Let’s talk.”
She widened her eyes like he’d announced hell was outside and wanted in.
“What?” She swayed but didn’t fall. “Talk? Are you sure you don’t want to fuck? Or threaten to? Or hit me? Or…wait…lie to me? Or, no, no, I know. Spank my ass?”
When she said it like that…?
She swung the bottle up and drank right from it. At her feet were minibar hotel bottles of three different kinds of alcohol and an empty Coke can. My wife’s drunk and angry. There wasn’t a single time in their marriage she’d shown she was pissed off, let alone like she’d been all day. Now she was angry and drunk.
He stayed by the door, not willing to see if she’d neuter him. This woman wasn’t backing down. She was so angry with him that her chest rose and fell more rapidly than his breathing. She has every right to those feelings. I lied to her. I hurt her. She thought I broke my promise. He kept all that in mind as he tried to get the right words out of his mouth.
