Pretty Reckless, page 17
“Who was that?” Chase’s frame fills the doorway with his arms crossed over his chest.
“Devin. He and some of the girls from the salon are heading to the city tonight.”
His lashes blink in two rapid successions. “And you’re going with them?”
“Yeah. So?”
Long fingers wrap around the door frame when I try to move past him, his arm blocking my path. “Without even talking to me about it?”
“What are you, jealous? Last I checked, my ass wasn’t branded Property of Chase.”
I push through his barricade, feeling his hard gaze bore into my flesh as I drop the towel and pull on a bra and panties. I pick up my blender brush and swirl it in translucent powder before dusting it across my lids.
Warmth fills the space behind me, and the clean scent of cotton hits my nostrils. When my eyes flutter open, I catch his molten stare in the mirror ahead. A self-conscious feeling comes over me. He’s seen me naked a hundred times, traced his tongue over every inch of my flesh, but his eyes don’t have the same feral gleam I’m used to seeing. A hint of something else flashes in those pale blue pools. Emotion. It moves through his gaze like lightning cracking the sky.
“What if I am?” he asks in a gravelly baritone. Calloused fingers trace my spine and graze over the curve of my hip. “I considered you mine a very long time ago, Kat.”
“News to me.”
He skims up the flat plane of my stomach, yanking me against him. Even through the thick panel of denim, I feel the hard ridge of his erection push against my ass cheeks. “Then you haven’t been paying attention.”
When he dips under the string of my thong, the cheap fabric snaps in his hand. The thin material flutters to the floor like a moth. “What are you doing?”
“Planting a flag on Mount Olympus,” he tells me, dropping his pants.
One hand rests flat on my back, bending me over as he drives inside my slick entrance, pushing a gasp from my throat. He holds firm, torturing me with his stillness. I arch into him trying to build the friction between us, but his hold is unyielding. The jerking motion knocks my makeup case from the dresser. Brushes and palettes skitter across the floor in a turbulent calamity that matches the clamor in my chest. “Tell me you want me, too, Katarina.” There’s an achy edge in his voice that’s never been there before. It’s as if he’s toeing the line on the outskirts of something, yet he’s wary to cross over. It’s not just about my body, not this time. He’s testing the waters, gauging my reaction to his unspoken confession. He’s asking for my heart.
“I want you, Chase.” The statement floats from my lips in a long, slow whisper. I need him to know I want him; I want us.
“To what?” He rocks his pelvis forward, the barbell in his massive cock raking against my insides.
“Make me yours.”
“Watch,” he growls, giving my wet hair a tug. My neck snaps back, and I meet his twisted stare in the reflection. “I want you to watch me own this tight little cunt, own you.”
My only response is a lust-filled whimper. My palm grips the mirror, holding myself taut as his pelvis slams against me again. Long, powerful strokes that ride me into oblivion. Fire explodes in my half-lidded eyes, smoldering like burning embers dripping all around us. Only Chase has the power to do this. At his command, lightning flashes and mighty thunder rolls, wreaking havoc on my body, my heart, my soul. It all belongs to him.
A sheen of sweat breaks across his sturdy chest. His lips coil into a wicked grin, a devious flicker roiling in his storm-cloud eyes. The sharp smack of his hand radiates against the meaty part of my backside before parting my cheeks and gliding a single digit inside me.
Pressure fills the tight little space, making a frantic frenzy of moans rush from my lips. My body is full, my skin alight. His fist mangles the dampened strands of hair falling around my face as his cock and fingers piston into me with a divine rhythm that rips me in half. “Se agapó. Agapó. Agapó . . .” I purr as my climax hits hard and fast. The mirror splinters. Cracked lines spider out from under my splayed fingers.
Corded muscles in his neck and shoulders tense as I clench around him. A deep growl sounds low in his throat seconds before he tears his body from mine. Pearls of hot cum spurt on my tailbone, but he doesn’t let me up. Using his free hand, he swipes at it with his fingertips and brings it to my lips. They part, letting the salty-sweet flavor trickle onto my tongue. He spreads the sticky substance across my tight pucker next, sliding it into both my holes. “Now every part of you has my mark.”
He lifts my chin, fusing our mouths in a delicate kiss that steals the air from my lungs. “Have fun tonight.” His voice is smooth, sincere. The animal within him crawls back inside his secret cave as he adjusts his pants and swaggers from the room, leaving me breathless, bare-assed, and bathed in cum.
Shaking legs give way beneath me. Panting, I fall to a crouch, my fingers gripping the edge of the dresser, my body still trembling from his touch. Intense much?
Chase’s possession poured down upon me like rain pelting from the heavens. It came from nowhere, splitting the sky like a summer storm. Deadly and reckless, powerful and compelling, yet beautiful in its own right.
Our love sits in the eye of that storm. The quiet, calm region at the center of a hurricane I could never have predicted was coming.
But it is.
And nothing will ever be the same again.
“Where the hell is my mascara?” I say out loud, rifling through my tackle box. My eyes scan the floor surrounding the dresser. I lift one high-heeled foot then the other, but alas, no sign of the skinny black tube. I don’t have time for this.
Dropping to my knees, I peer under the dresser. A few sporadic dust bunnies wave hello, but nothing of interest to me. Maybe it’s under the bed? I sit up, running my fingers through my hair and twisting it over my shoulder before kneeling back down and lifting the bed skirt.
“Thank God,” I whisper again, spying the missing makeup. When I reach under to get it, my knuckles graze along the sharp corner of a cardboard box. I snatch my hand back with a hiss.
What the hell?
A drop of blood oozes from the slice in my finger. I lift it to my mouth. The copper taste leaks on my tongue, but I’m more intrigued by the knife-edged box that caused this wound than the actual cut itself.
My hand swipes back under the bed. I feel around, finding the mascara first, then the box, and emancipating them both from their hidden dungeon. To my surprise, it’s completely ordinary. A regular, every day-type box that must have simply caught my hand just right. Figures.
I grab the tube and stand, preparing to coat my lashes in a thick layer of goop, but pain radiates up my hand when I twist open the cap. “Shit!” Using the point of my silver pump, I give the box a good, swift kick. It’s juvenile, but whatever, it helps. The contents rattle as the box tips over, scattering an assortment of shit across the floor.
“The fuck?” I squat down, lifting a tube of used ice pink lipstick. I right the box and drop it back in, but my gaze has already moved on, wandering over the pile of stuff before me. Why does Chase have a random smattering of girly crap hidden in a box under his bed? A weird combination of stuff like a comb, a single nylon, and an elementary school spelling bee champion medal.
One by one, I pick up each item and throw it back in the box. An unsigned birthday card, a scrap of paper with a phone number scribbled on it, a travel-size bottle of perfume . . .
A photo album.
With shaky fingers, I thumb through the pocket-sized book of three-by-five photos. A little girl with stark black hair and golden skin stands next to a statue of Big Bird; her smile stretched from ear-to-ear. Next to that, the same little girl, a few years older, poses in a cheerleading uniform.
Shallow breaths rattle the empty cavern of my chest. I turn the page and gasp when I see a reflection of my own face staring back at me. The same dark eyes and dark hair. Her ruby lips curled in a pretty smile as she preens for the camera in a prom gown.
It can’t be. It’s not possible. How can this person, this perfect stranger, bear such a strong resemblance to me?
And what the fuck is she doing under Chase’s bed?
My gaze drifts to the closet to my left. The dress. Desiree. This is her box. Her stuff. Chase’s dead ex-girlfriend, the one he can’t get over, is my friggin’ doppelgänger.
Every ounce of liquid seems to have evaporated from my mouth. I can feel my lips sticking to my teeth. I tip the box and sweep the rest of the items into it with my hand. This is some Unexplained-Mysteries-Ghost-Hunters-type freaky, fucked-up shit I want no part of.
An empty compact disk sleeve gets caught up on the lip. I look down, tracing my fingers over the big loopy letters scrawled out in black marker. Our love is eternal. —Desi
My heart pummels my ribcage like a prize fighter. Chase’s laptop rests on the corner of his nightstand, open. This is dumb, so dumb, yet I know if I don’t look, I’ll always wonder. For all I know, this disk is long gone. Maybe this was never anything more than a silly love note. I just need to rule it out.
When I smack the keyboard, the monitor comes to life. I sneak a look behind me, making sure the coast is clear before turning back and clicking the DVD drive. Sure as shit, the whizzing sound of a spinning disk filters through the room. Motherfucker.
I sit at the edge of the bed, bracing myself for what I might find, but nothing, nothing could have prepared me for what’s on this disk.
Keening moans and bellowing grunts filter through the tinny laptop speakers. I don’t want to see, but I can’t look away. It’s like an accident on the freeway. You jam your eyes hoping to avoid the horror in front of you, but at the last possible second, your lids flutter open because deep down inside you don’t want to miss that big severed head rolling into oncoming traffic.
Nausea roils in my gut. I clamp my lips shut, praying to God I don’t toss my cookies all over his stupid sheets when he flips her over and grabs her hair. He smiles. Fucking smiles, with a side of evil laughter when she whimpers in pain and arches her back.
Chase’s wiry frame bursts through the doorway and slams the lid of the laptop closed. I look up at him, disillusioned by the sudden stranger standing next to me. “I can explain.”
“I knew you were heartbroken, but Chase, this is sick.”
“It’s not as bad as you think.”
Tears well up in my eyes. “Not as bad? Not as bad?” My voice takes on a piercing shriek that makes Zeus whimper from down the hall. “I trusted you! I believed you! I sat in that hospital bed and asked you point blank what’s in it for you, and you lied to my face.”
I turn on my heel and head for the door, but Chase’s fingers close around my bicep. “Wait! I know how it looks—”
I swing back around, jerking my arm from his hand. “Don’t fucking touch me, Chase. You disgust me! I can’t even look at you!”
A horn blasts from outside. “Don’t go, Kat. Give me a chance to explain, please!”
His pleading voice sends a spiral of rage cycling through me. “I’m no one’s consolation prize. Picking me up and dusting me off was never gonna bring her back. She’s fuckin’ dead, dude! No matter how much you pretend, I’m not her, and I’m never gonna be her.”
“After everything we’ve been through, how can you even accuse me of that? When are you going to get it through your head? I don’t want her! I want you!”
I square my shoulders, sucking back my emotion. Chase isn’t worth my tears. No man is. “I thought I would never find a bigger liar than Costas. I was wrong. You’re worse than he is on so many levels. At least he had the decency to stab me in the back. But you? You aimed straight for the heart. Enjoy your creepy box of shit and your disturbing videos. I hope you’re very happy together.”
Chapter 25
Chase
My heart is heavy as I dial her number for the hundredth time. It’s one a.m., and Kat isn’t home yet.
She had every right to storm away from me. I’m a grade-A douchebag for doing what I did; I admit that, but she won’t even hear me out. That movie is a sordid part of my past I don’t like to discuss, but it’s a part of me. I just needed to see it one last time before moving on. I wasn’t watching it to get off—I was saying goodbye.
It took me years, but I'm finally seeing clear as day. Desiree LaMonde wasn’t a blessing sent to enrich my life. She was a curse meant to destroy it. A brick tied around my ankle, heavy enough to hold me down but too light to pull my nose under the water. I stayed in that position for far too long, struggling to breathe, unable to loosen the weight keeping me tethered. Desiree was the lesson. The stepping-stone I needed to gain the strength I lacked all those years ago. Her death was written on my fate before I ever realized it.
I needed to lose her in order to find Kat.
The ringing in my ear is a cruel taunt. Just fucking answer. I’m this close to jumping in the car and checking every New York City bar looking for her when the phone clicks on the other end. “Kat?”
“Who is this?” A deep baritone and the thump of heavy bass rumbles through the earpiece. I pull the phone away, looking at the number to make sure I’ve dialed correctly.
“Who the fuck is this?”
“You called me, bro.”
My heart leaps into my throat. “No. I called my girlfriend.”
Shuffling, music, and distant voices filter through, followed by the tinkling sound of childlike laughter. “She’s my girlfriend tonight.”
My fingers ball into fists of fury, quivering in my lap. “Put her on the phone,” I grind out through clenched teeth.
“Just hang up. I wanna go.” Her voice is muffled, but I’d recognize it anywhere. It’s sweet and light, her I’ve-had-one-too-many voice. “You said you’d take me home.”
“I’ll take ya home, baby. Don’t you worry,” is the last thing I hear before the line goes dead.
A river of rage seeps into my veins like a noxious gas. The crossroad of life is constantly testing us. Some trails are paved in gold with promises of beauty that never deliver. Others are rocky and rough, full of things scary and unknown. An arduous journey that sometimes leaves you questioning. But at the end of that rugged terrain, love awaits on the other side.
The wrong choice was made. She allowed old demons to drag her down the easy path, and now I stand at the precipice, broken, bloody, and alone, my wounds festering from the inside out.
I hope it was worth it.
The front door opens and shuts with a soft click. I lift the covers over my face, trying to hide from the obnoxious rays of yellow light streaming in through my bedroom windows. These giant windows were what sold me on this house in the first place. A bedroom encased in glass, overlooking nothing but endless woods. It was beautiful and serene at a time in my life where things in my head were at their most deafening.
But today I hate them. I loathe their sunny glow and the warmth it gives. Despise the way it pushes on my back, forcing me to greet the day when all I want to do is hide in the shadows. Kat has the right idea. Pull the shades down tight and don’t let a single shaft pass into the darkened doldrums she calls her haven.
Black like the sky without stars.
Like the hair that falls past her shoulders and brushes my skin.
Like the heart seizing as her footsteps pad closer to my room.
“Chase?” The sad sound of her voice is buckshot tearing through my chest. Unable to look her in the face, I stay facing the opposite wall. “Don’t ignore me.”
“Why not? You ignored me all night.”
“I wasn’t ignoring you; I was working things out in my head. You didn’t even give me a chance.”
“Really? Is that what you call it?”
“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”
I sit up in bed, my glare deflecting hers. “Where’d you sleep, Kat?” I ask with acid sarcasm that makes her wince.
The rims of her eyes are pink and puffy, her dark irises swimming in the tears she’s holding back. “I’m sorry I’m not as perfect as your precious Desiree.” Kat spits her name through clenched teeth. I watch it roll across the floor and land on the edge of my bed in a broken heap.
“Don’t you fucking compare yourself to her! You’re nothing like her!” Testosterone-addled aggression simmers below my skin. I throw off the covers and step from my bed. “At least when she fucked other men, she got paid.”
Kat clenches her eyes, taking a deep breath before opening them again. “Then that makes her a whore.”
My shaking fist grabs her bicep. “Get out of my house! You don’t live here anymore!”
“No, fuck that!” She wrenches her arm from my grasp and pushes against my chest. “You didn’t throw me out! I left!” The battle between Kat and her tears comes to its bitter end. They don’t just fall; they pour down on me like rain pounding hot pavement. “You’re the worst thing that ever happened to me, Chase,” she sobs, turning her back on me forever. “I’ll send Alex and Athena for my things. I can’t be around you anymore.”
She bends down and scoops Aphrodite under her arm before storming from my line of sight. My heart hammers against my ribs. It feels like any minute it’s going to burst from my chest, fly around the room, and swallow me whole.
What have I done?
Go after her, you idiot! Tell her you’re sorry! Don’t let her leave like this.
A cacophony of thoughts runs through my mind, but my feet stay rooted to the spot on the floor. I can’t do it. She gave up on us, not me. I tried everything I could to make this work, but I was powerless to stop this relationship from imploding. A blind man could have seen this coming. Kat and I are too fucked up to coexist.
Chapter 26
Kat
