Come to Me Recklessly Page 13

  The fault.

  And the fault was his.

  I’d be wise to remember that.

  His words were sharp and not in the least unexpected. But they stung nonetheless. “Thought I told you to stay the fuck away from me. You’re not welcome here, Samantha.” He drew out my name in a whispered taunt, coaxing me to look at his face, which felt like it was less than a millimeter from mine.

  God, I wished I hadn’t.

  A sharp breath wheezed down my throat when our eyes locked, and I drew in everything that was Christopher Moore. My mind and body lit up in recognition when I was struck with his distinct, unforgettable scent.

  But tonight, there was a hostility saturating it, more intense than ever before.

  Pure sex bidden by a brilliant, raging fury.

  Like he’d consume me and there’d be nothing left.

  Ashes.

  That’s what had remained after he was finished with me the first time.

  After he’d promised me forever.

  Maybe I’d been that stupid, naive girl then, but I definitely wasn’t her now, and I wouldn’t allow him to reduce me to a stammering, blubbering mess.

  Resistance lifted my chin in a firm set of defiance, my heart thrumming too hard and my stomach feeling as if it might spill over. I wrenched out of his grasp. I wanted to scream a million insults at him, to make him feel as small and foolish as he had made me feel, but I remembered my mission. This was about forgiveness. About regaining that part of me that had been lost to Christopher. About moving on.

  “I’m here because your sister invited me. Because she came to my home and asked me to be here. I’m here because she’s my friend and I’ve always considered her to be, even after you took her away from me.”

  Christopher blanched, and a surge of hurt flared in his searing eyes, before he recovered with a sneer. “I took her away from you?” He snorted. “Seems to me you have a pretty poor memory” – he leaned in close – “Sam.”

  He said it hard, with an emphasis that drove another stake straight into my failing heart. So desperately I wanted to be courageous, but he knew my weaknesses. He knew I hated when he called me Sam. But even more, he’d hated when anyone else called me that.

  It was a clear slap to the face.

  Moisture gathered in my eyes, and I tried with everything in me to blink the tears back, but the first one fell, hard and fast. I squeezed my eyes, looking away to the floor. I pressed my hands to my chest, trying to hide the way it heaved and shook, but the tremors just took over my body.

  Could anything be more humiliating than this? Christopher watching me fall apart?

  “Fuck,” he cursed, and even with my eyes shut, I could almost see him shift, the way his body shrank and he fisted his hair. His voice lowered. “Goddamn it, Samantha, what are you trying to do to me?”

  Tentatively, I cast a timid glance up at him, because there was nothing I could do to stop myself. He wore the most tortured expression I’d ever seen, his brow all twisted and his eyes the deepest forest green.

  Why did he have to be so beautiful?

  And why did I still have to love him so much?

  He jerked his face away for two anguished beats before he leveled his gaze back on me. All traces of emotion had been erased. “Stay out of my way, Samantha. If you think you have a right to be here, then fine. Stay. But don’t think for a second this means anything. You’re dead to me.”

  My entire being quaked with a jolt of pain.

  There should have been no surprise. He’d made that abundantly clear when he’d stared vacantly across that room at me all those years ago, the trace of a smirk on his face confirming I’d meant nothing to him at all. I realized once I got older that it’d probably gotten him off, giving him a sordid sense of pleasure attained only in my misery.

  Every single promise he’d made me had been a lie.

  And the one he’d just made?

  That’s the one I needed to remember.

  I was dead to him. Nothing. I’d always been. All these years I’d spent hurting and longing and wondering had been nothing but a waste.

  I’d known it then and I knew it now.

  Christopher Moore was a bastard.

  When they found out I was with him, my parents had begged and pleaded with me to see reason, to open my eyes and realize the direction I was allowing my life to go, warning me I was conspiring with the devil.

  As I stood there staring up at all his glorious beauty, the man outwardly too perfect to be real, his black hair unruly and chaotic, his green eyes vicious and cruel – and his body – his body an altar of temptation, I realized their warnings hadn’t even come close to the truth.

  I’d sold my soul to Lucifer himself.

  TWELVE

  Christopher

  Swells of hurt pounded at my skin, a radiating agony slamming me hard and fast. One brutal hit after another. Those endless blue eyes I’d spent way too much time dreaming about were staring up at me like I’d just crushed her into a million tiny pieces, but then some sort of hardened resolution seemed to take hold of her features.

  But that lone fucking tear streaking down her face had damn near been my undoing.

  I’d been overwhelmed. Overcome with the need to grab her sweet face between my hands and lick it from her cheek.

  Then proceed to lick every delicious inch of her body.

  Most disturbing part? That urge didn’t come close to just being about the physical. My spirit buzzed, consumed with this need to comfort her. To hold her and protect her. Exactly like I used to. I’d been about five foolish seconds from making all kinds of unsound promises that this girl wouldn’t even want me to make.

  Chances were, she’d slap me right across the face.

  No matter how badly the fact tore me up, Samantha wasn’t mine, and the voracious hunger gripping every cell of my being, the one begging me to reach out and touch her, to take her back, had to be crushed.

  So I’d done what any man would do and put a stop to all those insane thoughts hijacking my brain.

  Of course, that was after I’d rubbed all up on her, teasing myself with just a taste of what only this girl could make me feel. And damn if that little brush of our bodies didn’t feel better than any of the thoughtless flesh I’d poured myself into over the last seven years, my dick straining painfully and my heart hammering so hard I was pretty sure it’d beat right out of my chest, spilling out in a bleeding, nasty mess on the floor.

  Seemed fitting, ’cause it’d always belonged to Samantha, anyway.

  My eyes skimmed down her body where she stood three inches from me, her hands balled at her sides, her smell and her sweet all up in my face, clouding my senses.

  She was taunting me. I knew it. She knew exactly how to bring me to my knees. My gaze got locked on the bronzed, defined lines of her toned legs, tracing up and down. My fingers twitched, wanting to be the ones doing that tracing. She was wearing these supersexy short shorts. Not the kind the sleazy girls wore to the clubs that promised the first guy who walked up to them a good time. No. These were the You can dream of me all you want, but there’s no chance you’re getting in these kind of shorts.

  Yes, they had a name, and Samantha wore them well.

  And because the world hated me, the girl had to go and pair them with the sexiest pair of shoes I’d ever seen, accentuating every sleek line of her sexy legs.

  Did I mention sexy? Yeah, the girl was a fucking wet dream.

  Believe me, I knew. She’d starred in plenty of mine.

  And here she was, standing right in my sister’s kitchen like she belonged there.

  When Aly told me Samantha was coming tonight, she made me promise to be on my best behavior, telling me Samantha was her guest and she wanted her to come. But the second I saw the temptress standing there, every oath I’d made to my sister flew right out the window.

  Considering my best behavior wasn’t exactly good, anyway, Aly should have known better.

  The second
I got close, it was all over. She’d always had this thing about her that made me feel like I was brushing up against something special, a treasure rarely found, and it’d always felt like when I touched her she cleansed some of the ugly from me.

  And I’d wanted it. To feel good again. To feel like I mattered. I wanted to think if she’d let me, I could make her life better the same way she’d once made mine.

  I wanted all of that just about as goddamned badly as I wanted to soil her, to taint this good girl with every dirty thing I’d learned since the second she left me with a battered, broken heart, wanted to get lost in that body, lost in that mouth, lost in her hands and her mind and those haunted eyes.

  Logically? I knew she was taken. I couldn’t have her. But the rest of my body didn’t give a fuck.

  I blinked hard, swallowed harder, trying to tear myself away from that gaze burning into me with so much pain and hatred I was sure she was going to dissolve me into a molten, boiling puddle right in the middle of Aly’s kitchen floor.

  Shit. It hadn’t been my intention to hurt her. It was the last fucking thing in this world I’d wanted to do.

  And here I stood, doing it again and again.

  What the hell was wrong with me?

  But the truth was, I hated her, too.

  “Christopher.” The word was low, thrown out like a caution flag, striking me from behind. I twisted to look over my shoulder.

  My mom, Karen, stood there, her brown eyes knowing, soft, but filled with warning.

  Just her presence broke up all the intensity, a flutter of awkwardness taking its place.

  “I came to find you.” She tilted her head. “I thought you were bringing me a drink. I’m dying of thirst out there.”

  I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. Subtle, Mom. God, she was so damned obvious.

  “I was just telling an old friend hi.” I let the sarcasm roll from my tongue.

  A worried frown pinched up Mom’s face as her attention darted between us. Samantha shifted in discomfort.

  I knew Mom meant well, but fuck, none of this was fair. They just expected me to welcome Samantha with open arms. I swear, it felt like I was being ganged up on, all the women in my life hitting me from every side. Mom had been ecstatic when Aly told her Samantha was coming today, filling her in that she lived right around the corner.

  All of my family was in love with the girl who’d torn me to shreds. Of course it was obvious Mom was assuming all those same things Aly had assumed, that I’d been callous and cold and had just tossed her aside when I was finished with her, when God’s truth was I would never have gotten my fill.

  Never.

  I promised her I was never going to be finished with her. It was Samantha who’d finished me.

  “I haven’t gotten the chance to tell Samantha hi yet, either, so I’m glad to find you both in here.” Mom settled her warm gaze on Samantha. “It’s so good to see you. It has been far too long.”

  Samantha exhaled heavily, drawing my attention to her. She seemed to compose herself, forced a smile. “It’s so nice to see you again, Mrs. Moore.”

  “Pfft.” Mom waved her off. “You never called me Mrs. Moore before. Please don’t start now. You’re just going to make me feel old.”

  Mom straightened out her impeccable clothes, and I wanted to laugh. Old and Karen Moore were an oxymoron. She was the epitome of beautiful, that timeless kind of woman who never showed a sign of the passing years. She also had a heart the size of Texas, and even though Aly and I took more after our dad, with his dark hair and deep emerald eyes, I knew my little sister got all her sweetness from Mom.

  Soft, submissive laughter floated from Samantha, and I felt it somewhere in my chest.

  “Okay, Karen. It’s nice to see you again.”

  “When Aly told me she’d run into you, I couldn’t believe our luck.”

  Luck?

  Right. Lucky me.

  Samantha laughed a little deeper, a throaty sound that sent a fresh round of blood pumping through my veins, washing out that constant numbness and filling me with all the shit I didn’t want to feel.

  “I was honestly shocked when I first saw her… the baby and Jared and just everything.” Affection softened Samantha’s voice, and I was doing my all to block it out and somehow doing my best to feel it a little more.

  Goddamn it. Was this what it felt like to lose your mind? Because everything I felt was at odds, wanting to shun every last thing and begging for more.

  Mom chuckled lightly. “Well… she gave us all a shock, believe me. But everything works out like it’s supposed to, doesn’t it?”

  She slanted a quick glance in my direction.

  Oh, stealthy, Mom. I scowled at her, hoping she could read my mind. Didn’t she know some other fucker had gotten my girl? He was the lucky one. And he’d damn well better deserve her.

  For one second, Samantha cast her attention to the window behind her, out into the backyard, where Aly and Jared had gathered with family and friends, before she turned back to my mom, smiling. All the while she seemed frantic to avoid my gaze at all costs, the gaze that kept getting locked on her, desperate to read every emotion pouring from that expressive face.

  Dead to me. I snorted to myself. Right.

  “For them, it definitely seemed to. They seem so perfect together. I really am happy for them.”

  “So am I. There’s nothing better than knowing one of your children is truly happy. That they’re where they’re meant to be.” Mom’s face flashed with something significant, then she threw out her arms. “Well, what are you waiting for? Get over here and give me a hug. I missed you like crazy. And oh my goodness, sweetheart, you’ve always been beautiful, but look at you now.”

  A soft stream of self-conscious giggles flooded from Samantha, and her face got all red while I got all hot. Samantha shuffled over to my mom and wrapped herself in her waiting arms.

  I rubbed my hand over the knotted muscles at the back of my neck, torn between wishing I didn’t have to witness their exchange and not being able to look away.

  Because Samantha was clinging to her as if she’d been reunited with family, someone who’d been lost to her and was now once again reclaimed.

  Fuck.

  She’d always been good. So fucking good and sweet and kind. Selflessness was the very extreme of her nature. Her only crime had been me, her trespasses hinging on everything I’d pushed her into.

  Until the night I’d pushed her too far.

  Squeezing my hands into fists, I shifted on my feet, warring with the urge to rant and rave and yell.

  Why was I the one who had to suffer through this? Why did she get invited back into my life when she’d forbidden me from hers?

  It wasn’t fair.

  Not at fucking all.

  Yet here I stood, trying to regain my cool. To pretend like nothin’ mattered at all. Just like I always had.

  Mom rested her eyes on me, all sympathy and love mixed with a wash of regret.

  No doubt, she could see right through me. She always had been able to.

  In discomfort, I dropped my attention to my ripped-up Vans and raked a hand through my hair.

  “Samantha, why don’t you go on out back and fix yourself something to eat? Jared made the call to dinner about ten minutes ago. You don’t want your steak to get cold.”

  I chanced looking back up, and Mom had stepped away from Samantha, holding her by the upper arms.

  Warily, Samantha looked back toward the kitchen. Sad blue eyes skimmed over me before they darted to the spot where I’d basically assaulted her ten minutes before. “Oh… well, I was supposed to grab drinks for me and Megan.”

  A small smile wobbled at the side of that mouth. That fucking mouth.

  I itched, wet my lips.

  Laughing, Mom patted her. “Don’t worry about it. Christopher and I will handle it, won’t we, sweetheart?”

  “Oh, gladly,” I drew out. Now I was getting her drinks? Tonight just got better and bette
r. Apparently my mom loved to torture me.

  Samantha hesitated, nodded. “Okay… that would be really nice.”

  Then the girl had the nerve to smile. Like really smile, her red mouth all twisted up like a bow, a present I wanted to tear right into, knowing all the joys hidden inside.

  She didn’t get to do this to me. She didn’t get to make me feel alive under that smile that warmed me from the inside out, the one that had always made me lose my head and so easily captured my heart.

  She didn’t get to hurt me.

  Not again.

  Not with that gorgeous face and that perfect body.

  And most definitely not with that sweet, soft spirit.

  It was the most treacherous thing of all.

  Samantha slipped around the island and disappeared out the back door. The entire time, I watched her go, my focus all wrapped up in her retreating form, her ass all round, her legs all sleek, the long length of her near-white hair swishing all down her back.

  I suppressed a groan.

  Mom snapped her fingers in front of my face, shooting me a smirk that presumed too many things. “Punch bowl is behind you, in case you’d forgotten what you’re in here for.”

  I gave her a mocking glare as I backed farther into the kitchen. “So I may not be the brightest of your kids, but I do think I know a spiked punch bowl when I see one. At least I have one redeeming talent,” I said, the words dripping sarcastically from my mouth.

  “Ha… says the one who just graduated from ASU and within a month was partner in a business. You’re so terribly worthless,” she teased, rolling her eyes as she headed farther into the room. She came to an abrupt standstill in front of me. “Always thinking you’re less than you are. And you’re more than smart, more than capable, Christopher,” she said quietly, her demeanor from seconds earlier shifting. Her brown eyes gleamed as she looked up at me, her expression pointed but filled with understanding.

  I squirmed, and she set her hand on my cheek before she moved it down to settle it on my chest. “You just tend to think more with that heart you like to pretend doesn’t exist.”

  I winced.

  What the fuck was that supposed to mean?