Elizabeth Finn - Unforgiven

She held her breath as he stared at her naked feet. She was having a hard time staying on her feet. Her legs felt like putty, and she was afraid if she even attempted to take a breath, her legs would melt and she’d end up on the floor. He wasn’t doing any better. He seemed to be in a stupor—his eyes might have been focused on her feet, but his gaze was blank and dead. She didn’t need to see his mind to know it was anything but blank. He was lost in there at the moment, and she had no idea if he’d come out from the depths hating her more or less than he did going in. She hoped less; she thought likely more.

“Do you remember the game?” His voice was croaked out as though he couldn’t get his throat muscles to function, but his focus was slowly shifting up from her feet, and she waited, refusing to look away. Of course she remembered. “You know the game. Our game.” His gaze made it to her eyes—his so dark and intimidating, hers with tears watering her vision. “But it wasn’t really a game at all, was it?” His focus had settled on her lips, and his brow flinched when she licked them in nervousness. “It was the only way we knew how to be honest with one another. We were so afraid of crossing that line. I was so afraid of crossing that line.” He slowly let himself sink down to the floor, sitting with his knees propped up, and his arms slung casually across the tops. But there was nothing really casual about him at the moment. However calm and relaxed his body appeared, she knew it was more a wasted exhaustion than a calmness. Bailey stood rigid for a moment, still breathing shallow breaths, the gears in her head spinning.

She finally joined him, stretching her legs out straight, crossing her ankles, and pulling her robe tight across her lap. It hadn’t escaped her attention that she’d said literally nothing to the man, but she knew her words wouldn’t help anything, and she wanted him to keep talking, painful as his words might be. “It was the only time we could really say what needed to be said.” His focus was now solely on her eyes, and she was listening intently. He was right—everything he said. She couldn’t even remember how or when they’d started playing . . . their game, only that it was theirs alone, and they’d never shared it with anyone else. Their relationship, subtle, unacknowledged, ignored as it was by them, was virtually unseen by anyone else, including Jess. They’d hid it well, and it wasn’t until she’d been sitting in a prison cell for nearly a year, analyzing every last aspect of her life that led her there, that she’d finally actually seen it herself.

What happened between them that night at the seawall, hell the night before that even, had been set in motion long before. Her crush on him was not merely some juvenile whim, nor were his feelings for her, whatever they might have been. They cared entirely too much for one another. Their words, every last one of them, were a confession of something important, something they couldn’t say outside the confines of their game, and that night was a catastrophe—an incredible catastrophe they’d avoided for so long but which they failed to control in that moment.

Odd how long hours in a cell day after day had finally given her that clarity. Odder still that it took so many endless days to see what was so obvious. And oddest of all, how well they’d hidden their feelings from even themselves. She’d loved him. She didn’t know what that love had actually meant, didn’t have a chance to find out, and now, sitting on her small cottage floor, she couldn’t help but remember the very moment she realized it. Her eyes had been staring at her cell ceiling as she lay in a stupor, and the understanding was simply there where it hadn’t been before. Looking at Darren’s expression now, the dark and pained emotion on his face, she knew he’d figured it out too. Somewhere along his own path, he’d realized just how deep they’d gotten into it all those years ago. She had no doubt it made his pain even worse.

“I wanted to finish playing the game that night. I wanted to tell you everything I’d refused to say the night before in the kitchen. But by the end of the night, those words were gone, and the only ones I had left . . . Well, let’s just say they weren’t anything like the words I’d started with.”

She nodded slowly, staring at his lips now. She understood what he was saying. It was her fault. She’d made the man hate her, and she’d left him with nothing good and decent to say to her. Her fault. Entirely. Her. Fault.

“I should never have left you at the bar. I should have stayed. I wanted to stay. I wanted to stay with you, be with you, deal with you, deal with what had happened. Hell, I wanted to do it all over again and keep going until I’d finally made love to you. I didn’t have the nerve to handle any of it the way I should have. I was such an immature prick. I made so . . . many . . . mistakes.”

She was shaking her head. “No . . . no. . .” She found her voice then. She couldn’t believe the man who held her so responsible for his misery was trying to share her guilt. None of it was his fault at all, but he was doing a damn fine job trying to convince her and himself that he somehow deserved to share her guilt. “Darren, please, you can’t. . .” She met his eyes, and her voice died in her throat. His expression was harsh. He didn’t want her sympathy.

He reached for her ankle, gently trailing his fingers over her skin, circling her joint. He was looking at the path his fingers were tracing, and Bailey suddenly couldn’t keep her mouth closed. Her lips parted at the intimate touch, and she was sucking in sharp, quick breaths of shocked air. That air left her in a rush when he grasped her ankle and pulled her swiftly toward him. She slid smoothly across the polished wood floor, her robe riding up as she moved, but she stopped before the hem passed her bottom, saving her rear the pain. It did not save her modesty, and she was left sprawled beside him with her legs splayed apart, completely exposed to him.

Her eyes were wide and shocked as she tried to push herself up to sit with her arms that were barely propping her up. His eyes were searing into her, but he was no longer looking at her eyes. His focus was on her sex. He stared, and when she tried to close her knees, he pushed them apart, refusing to let her hide. The moment she tried to close her knees again, he pounced toward her, pinning her to the floor and pushing his way between her legs. His hands held her wrists to the floor, and she could feel his hard arousal through his jeans pushing against her sex. He was breathing deeply as he watched her, his brow flinching. Her body was tingling, prickling in hot need, and his hard erection that was between them was taunting her.

“I want to fuck you.” His voice had turned tormentingly hot, but harsh. “You’d let me. I know you would.” He ground his cock against her naked and parted lips, innervating her arousal with his. “Every nightmarish thing that happened six years ago can be traced back to this. My refusal to acknowledge this. My refusal to take what I wanted and give you what you needed.” He pushed against her again, and she groaned. He did too as his hands tightened harder on her wrists. “Why shouldn’t I have it now?” He looked cold and angry.

“That’s the wrong reason—”

“Is it? Then call it a consolation prize. My sister’s life for a fuck.”

She whimpered. She wasn’t afraid he’d hurt her, but she was absolutely afraid she’d go along with whatever he wanted to do to her. “You’re trying to make me uncomfortable.”

“And you’re making it so fucking easy.” He pushed again, hard, grinding a powerful, slow thrust between her legs as she gasped. She was wet, and she could feel it soaking into the material of his jeans. He kept thrusting this time, slow, deliberate strokes that left her fighting her body to not react. It was pointless, and she started gasping, biting down hard on her tongue to stifle the moan of unwelcome pleasure that was coursing out from where their bodies met. He watched her closely as her body betrayed her, and she started panting as her body readied itself.

When he pushed himself off her, she groaned as though someone had put a fist in her gut. The sudden absence of his weight was enough disappointment to make her cry. He stood, staring down at her. She was practically naked, confused, and stunned to the point that she simply lay there for a moment trying to figure out what had just happened. He looked about as confused as she was, and when she crawled from the floor, wrapping her robe around her, he turned from her and started for the door.

“Darren.” He stopped in his tracks, refusing to turn around. “Darren, please, you don’t have to leave.”

He turned slowly around. He shook his head before finally speaking. “I thought I could handle this. I thought I could handle being around you. I even thought I wanted to be around you. And I do. I see you, and it’s like dangling this incredibly wonderful memory in front of my face, tempting me to touch and taste and take everything I always wanted. And in one moment I want it so much I can barely walk away, but in the next, I remember just how much caring about you hurts. You’re like a poisoned apple.” His voice had that husky, choked-up edge again, and she let out a quiet sob at nothing more than that.

His eyes teared as his focus shifted to her chest, and after a moment he shook it away. “I know you need to be here for your mother. I understand that. But I can’t stay here anymore. I’m giving my notice at the hospital, and I’m going to relocate as soon as they can find a replacement.” Her own tears filled her eyes and then fell to her cheeks, and she sucked in a shaky breath as her heart seized painfully in her chest. “I just can’t do this. It’s too hard.” He turned from her but paused before he reached the door. “I shouldn’t have touched you. It won’t happen again.” Then he was gone, and the moment she heard his car pulling away, she sank back to the floor and sobbed.

This was somehow far worse than his hatred or anger.

Six Years Before

“I think Dare has a crush on you.” Jess was sprawled out in the seat next to Bailey as she started Darren’s car. Bailey tossed her a completely contrived look that said bullshit, and even tossed on a snort of incredulity to seal the deal. “I’m serious. Don’t pretend you haven’t noticed. You’re a shit liar. Always have been.” Jess looked wiped out after dancing for a solid hour straight. Bailey was exhausted too—more from fighting off Jess’ attempts to drag her onto the dance floor too.

“Your brother has a girlfriend, in case you forgot.” A response that actually didn’t require she lie to her best friend. But she glanced away from Jess too quickly. Busted.

“Something happened.” Jess’ voice wasn’t questioning. Her brow was furrowed in concentration as she tried to read Bailey’s mind. “I’m right.” Still not a question.

“Jess, don’t be ridiculous.” But she looked away too quickly again, and soon Jess was chuckling beside her. Bailey started chuckling too. Couldn’t seem to stop.

“Fine. I’ll just ask him. He’s about as good a liar as you are.”

Bailey pulled from the parking spot and approached Seawall Boulevard. She paused for a moment, taking in Jess beside her rifling through her purse. “You can’t be serious, Je—”

“Look out!” Jess’ hand grabbed the wheel, yanking it hard to the right, turning farther into the right-hand turn Bailey was in the process of making and, thankfully for them both, swerving her close enough to the curb to keep them out of the path of the delivery truck she’d just pulled in front of. “Fuck, Bay! You sure you’re more sober than me?”

“Thought I was.” She giggled, and Jess joined her in another round of laughter. Bailey’s heart was in her chest from the near miss, but she was too busy laughing to pay it much mind.

“Hey, are you sure you’re okay to drive?” She was still trying to decide if she was sure she had any remaining bladder control.

“Uh . . . whew! Yes, Jess. I’m fine. I really didn’t have that much, and I laid off the past hour or so. I’m definitely better off than you.” She steered Darren’s car back in line with the flow of traffic, and soon they were headed down Seawall Boulevard, her heart rate was normal, and she was reassured that she hadn’t actually peed the seat of Darren’s car—no way in hell she could ever live that down. Thank God for small favors.

“Yes, I did have a might bit more than you, but I danced it all off.” She was laughing beside Bailey, holding her cell phone in her hand. She’d forgotten all about her threat to call Darren for the skinny on Bailey’s odd behavior. “So, you were going to tell me what’s going on with you and Dare.” Bailey should have known better than to settle into complacency around Jess. Jess was on a mission, and she was die-hard when she was motivated.