A Heart to Heal Read online

  She blinked and raised her eyes to his. “It’s you.”

  He eyed her warily. “Of course it’s me. I brought you home last night. Are you okay? I heard a thud.”

  She looked at the bed and rolled her eyes. “I fell out of the bed.”

  “You can’t be serious.”

  She heard the laughter in his voice and wanted to be mad. Instead humor fought with embarrassment. “Yes, just like a drunk.”

  “I was thinking more like a five year old, but we can go with drunk.”

  When she looked at him he was smiling and she shook her head. He moved toward her and she held up her hand. “Stand back, I probably smell worse than I look.”

  She untangled the blanket from her legs and stood. The hardwood floors were cool against her bare feet. She looked around for her shoes. “I’ll grab my stuff and go.”

  “No hurry. I have to take you to your car. Why don’t you take a shower first?”

  She cocked an eyebrow. “You can’t possibly want me in your home longer than necessary.”

  Despite her earlier warning, he walked over and cupped her chin with a warm hand. His thumb softly caressed her cheek, sending tingles down her spine. “Stop telling me what I want.” He spoke softly, his whisky colored eyes boring into hers.

  She held her breath; she couldn’t breathe when he looked at her like that, and she was afraid to breathe on him.

  “There’s an extra toothbrush in the guest bathroom, I’ll lend you some clothes while we wash yours.” His fingers brushed against her chin as he dropped his hand and walked out.

  She stood there blinking after him caught up in the warm sensations caused by his brief contact. Then, his words registered.

  He planned to wash her clothes.

  That would take over an hour, and she needed to run as far away as she could. Every time he looked at her like that she forgot all of the reasons she was wrong for him.

  She sniffed her halter top and scowled. How could he bear to stand so close to her? The aroma of cigarette smoke and alcohol from a night of clubbing was coming from her in waves. By now the entire town would know he’d brought her to his home. Her mom, aunt, and cousin would all be ready to tear into her the moment she pulled into the driveway.

  What the hell. The damage was done. She might as well shower and wash her clothes before facing the judge and jury.

  She walked out of the room, just as Devin pulled a towel and wash cloth out of a closet. She took them from him with a grateful smile and hurried into the room he indicated. She took a quick shower, enjoying the sandalwood scent of the body wash he’d left on the counter, before brushing her teeth. She frowned at her reflection. Her hair was a wavy damp mess, but she had to wash the club smell out. At least there weren’t any dark circles under her eyes.

  When she finished, she did a quick look in the medicine cabinet and under the counter for signs that another woman shared the space. Satisfied that her search came up empty handed, she wrapped herself in a towel and rushed back to the guest bedroom. A pair of men’s plaid pajama bottoms and a grey t-shirt were on the bed. She had to roll up the hem on the pants twice to keep from tripping over them.

  A few minutes later she wandered downstairs. His house was beautiful, full of large windows, hardwood floors, and dark furniture. She didn’t know which one on Johnston Street he lived in, but the inside matched the historic colonial style of the houses in this neighborhood. Following the scent of food into the kitchen, she found Devin at the stove. He looked over his shoulder when she shuffled in and sat at the table.

  “You look a lot better.”

  “Dang, did I look that bad?”

  He slid an omelet from the pan onto a plate and set it in front of her. “Let’s just say hung over isn’t your best look.”

  “I’m not hung over.”

  “I’m surprised. You fell asleep in my truck.” He pulled another omelet out of the microwave, grabbed a bowl of pineapple, and joined her at the table.

  Her cheeks heated with happiness knowing he’d given her the warmest one. Most guys would have shoved the cold omelet at her. “Why did you bring me here?”

  He stared at her. His brows knitted over his eyes as if he were trying to figure something out. “I had a lot on my mind last night. I drove home without even realizing where I was going.”

  “What were you thinking about?”

  “Homecoming.”

  Her gaze dropped to the omelet. The happiness from before hardened into a knot of dread in her stomach.

  “And I was trying to understand why you’re afraid of Tony.”

  Shayla slowly took a bite of the omelet. He watched her and she knew he was judging her reaction. It was foolish to deny Tony upset her. She hadn’t handled her reunion with him with half of the dignity she’d imagined. She’d always thought that if she saw him again she’d tell him just how much of a slimy creep he was for doing what he’d done. Instead, she’d cowered and succumbed to the shame and humiliation that had held her captive in high school.

  She swallowed and looked around. “Do you have anything to drink?”

  He smirked, before getting up and getting orange juice and two glasses. She took the juice from him and poured for both of them. “This omelet is really good. What’s in it?”

  “Spinach, mushrooms, and gouda. Now, stop changing the subject and tell me what’s up with you and Tony.”

  She tapped her foot and avoided his gaze. “There is no me and Tony.”

  “You were a nervous wreck before going into the club. It took an hour for you to relax, but the minute Tony showed up; you became skittish and started drinking like a sailor.”

  She shrugged and concentrated on the omelet. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  He folded his arms on the table top and leaned forward. “You were the same way around him after Homecoming. Before, you viewed Tony as an annoyance, but after Homecoming, you became edgy and had to drink, or smoke, to have a good time. At the time, I thought it was because I was still around and you wanted to flaunt your relationship in my face, but last night proved differently.”

  She flinched. Flaunting her relationship with Tony was the last thing she’d ever wanted to do. The only way she could cope with her relationship with Tony was to escape. It helped her deal with the names people called her and the humiliation of knowing she was trapped.

  She kept her head down and pushed the omelet around on her plate. She tapped her fingers against the table while trying to think of what to say. He reached over and placed his hand over hers. “Last night, you said you thought it was me that night.”

  She pulled her hand away and finally met his eyes. “Did I?”

  “You did. I think it’s time you finally told me what happened.”

  Her brows drew together. “You want to know now? After fifteen years? You didn’t give a damn to hear what happened the next day.” She rubbed her cheek, remembering her mother’s slap. “No one wanted to know.”

  “I know, and I’m sorry. But Shayla, you have to admit that night was pretty fucked up. You waited for me after the game, said you wanted to be my girl, and I said yes. I thought we both wanted the same thing, but I find you in bed with Tony. How could you get so drunk that you couldn’t tell us apart?”

  “It wasn’t like that. I wasn’t trying to get drunk. I only had a few beers, and the one drink Peaches gave me. The next thing I know, the room’s spinning and you’re hauling me upstairs telling me to lie down. It was dark. I heard the crackling of a condom wrapper. I called your name, but got no answer. Then there were lips on my neck. My shirt was pulled up … and my skirt hiked up” she closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “I started to panic and called your name, again. A voice said ‘yes’ so I relaxed, until he kissed me. I knew it wasn’t you, but by then it was too late … he
was … ” she shook her head as the memories of that night with Tony played through her mind.

  “You didn’t tell him to stop, or try to push him off?”

  She met his gaze. “It had gone that far, I figured I’d let him finish.”

  Disappointment reflected in his brown eyes and she couldn’t take it. She stood and took her plate to the sink. She’d said no — asked Tony to stop — but he ignored her. By then it was easier to let him finish than fight. Every time she remembered, she hated herself for not trying harder. What type of girl just lay there and let a guy do that? Someone as no good as her mom had always said she was. Someone who didn’t deserve a man like Devin.

  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  She turned to face him. He still sat at the table, toying with the food on his plate. “I tried to explain, but you didn’t want to listen. I really couldn’t blame you. If I would have found you in bed with Peaches or Roxanne, I would have been pissed. It wasn’t that big of a deal.”

  He turned to look at her and she averted her eyes so he couldn’t see the lie in them.

  “Not a big deal. He took advantage of you?”

  She scoffed. “Come on, Devin. I opened my eyes and saw it was him. I could have stopped him … if I’d tried. I didn’t and that’s that.”

  He got up from the table and came to her. “Shayla.”

  She moved away, avoiding his hand and his gaze. She played with the charm at her neck. “You know what, forget about washing my clothes. I can go home like this.”

  He dropped his hand. “You don’t have to run away.”

  “I’m not running away. I just want to go home and sleep off this hangover.”

  “I thought you didn’t have a hangover.”

  “I lied. Not like that’s anything new.”

  She didn’t look at him, but knew he was staring. Studying her the way he always did when he was trying to understand her reasoning. He’d been trying to figure her out since they’d met, but still hadn’t realized she wasn’t worth the effort.

  Tired of his scrutiny, she flipped the conversation. “Why did you buy a house on Johnston Street?” She finally looked up.

  He blinked. It was his turn to look away. He got his plate off the table and put it in the sink.

  His long fingers gripped the edge of the counter. “I like this house.”

  “Did you remember your promise to me?”

  Johnston Street was the good part of town. They’d walk down Johnston Street after school and admire the large colonial style houses. Picking out which one they’d buy if they had the money and making up stories of the perfect lives the owners had to have. He’d teased her, said they could buy one together. At the time he was dating some girl on the beta club so instead of letting him know how happy that statement made her, she’d reminded him that she didn’t plan to live in Helena. Though he’d looked disappointed, he’d still wrapped an arm around her shoulder and said he would buy a house there for her to stay in whenever she visited. Afterwards it became their secret joke; their house on Johnston Street.

  He pushed away from the sink. “It had nothing to do with buying this house. In fact, I’d forgotten until just now.”

  She hid her pain beneath a smile. “It was a stupid promise.”

  He shook his head. “Nothing between us was stupid, Shayla. Our friendship was real, our feelings for each other were sincere, but we’re different people. Too different. There’s a reason you and me never worked out.”

  Although he’d finally admitted to what she’d tried to tell him, her chest tightened. She tried to blink back tears, but one escaped which she hastily wiped from her cheek.

  “You know my cousin wants to marry you.”

  A surprised panic flashed in his face. “Are you serious?”

  She nodded. “Yep, and I think it’s great. You two would make a cute … co-couple.” The words almost stuck in her throat.

  He reached over and wiped another tear from her eye with his thumb. Instead of pulling away he stepped closer, enveloping her with his warmth. He smelled like the body wash he’d put in the bathroom with her. She looked up and gasped when she saw the anguish and desire mingling with the gold flecks in his eyes. Sizzling heat flowed within her, gathering wet and hot between her legs.

  What would one time hurt? Everyone already assumed she was going to seduce him. Now that he’d brought her here the damage was done. She might as well get something out of the gossip that was sure to come. But besides that, she’d wanted Devin since she’d first laid eyes on him. And he wanted her, too.

  Before she could change her mind, she slid her hand under his shirt. His body was hot, and it ignited a twin fire within her. The muscles in his back flexed beneath her hands. He sucked in a breath before exhaling it in one ragged rush. She parted her lips and lifted her head in a silent invitation.

  Doubt flashed in his eyes before he quickly lowered his lids and covered her mouth with his. She parted her lips, gliding her tongue across his full lower lip. His mouth opened and she took the lead, but it was fleeting. He pulled her against his hard body and took over.

  She couldn’t breathe; she was dizzy with desire. She tried to pull back, to regain control, but he was relentless. Finally she succumbed. Her hand beneath his shirt gripped his muscled back as her other ran through his soft hair.

  When he pulled away, she groaned, wanting more. With hungry eyes he stared at her. Uncertainty and desire fought for control in his gold flecked gaze. Desire won out. He didn’t say a word, but took her hand and swiftly led her out of the kitchen.

  She didn’t give herself the opportunity to think about what she was doing. To say it was a mistake, or that she’d regret it later. They both knew this wasn’t going anywhere, but to deny the attraction would only make the fire burn hotter.

  She only got a glimpse of his bedroom before he pulled her against him and took her lips in a demanding kiss. His hot lips blazed a trail from her mouth to her neck, where he gently sucked on the sensitive skin above her shoulder. Liquid heat shot through her and she clenched her trembling thighs together to increase the pleasure. He pulled back only to roughly pull her shirt over her head. Immediately he went back to kissing her neck. His mouth returned to hers at the same time his large hand covered one of her aching breasts. His other hand tangled in the damp curls of her hair while his blunt fingers toyed with the puckered tip of her breast. Each caress increased the currents of her yearning pounding within.

  She couldn’t think, couldn’t do anything but accept his attention. This wasn’t like her. She took control. She brought men to their knees, not the other way around. With a moan, she pushed him back and lowered to her knees. She’d barely gotten her fingers in the waistband of his pants prior to him pulling her up.

  Before she could protest, his hand slipped inside her borrowed pants and parted her wet folds. She gasped and clutched his broad shoulders as his fingers slid across her swollen clit. His captivating gaze held hers. The passion in his eyes only intensified the pleasure his expert fingers caused between her legs. When his long finger dipped within her slippery center, she constricted around it. He gasped haggardly.

  Too quickly, he removed his hand and led her to the bed. She lay back against the soft cotton sheets. He slowly slid the pajama bottoms down her legs. Her breathing hitched as he leaned over to thoroughly kiss his way from her neck to her navel. Her body jerked and shook with each soft touch of his lips, each flick of his wet tongue against her skin. He moved lower, nuzzling her moist curls with his straight nose before drawing his stiff tongue across her in one long stroke. Her back arched off the bed. She cried out. He repeated the torturous movement and her body bucked. Two long fingers slid within her dewy flesh. He pressed upward against her G-spot, his expert tongue capturing all of her juices as they freely flowed from her.

  The stirrings of
a climax expanded within her: pulling, tugging and yearning to explode. Usually she could control her orgasm, hold out as long as she needed, but she couldn’t control it with Devin. Her body hummed, her nipples ached, and her legs shook with the need to release.

  He lifted his head. Slowly his fingers slid from her creamy center. She protested, and he silenced her with a kiss. She returned it, enjoying the taste of her on his tongue. Frantically, she wrapped her arms around his neck, urging him on. He disentangled from her embrace and stood. She watched as he took off his t-shirt revealing his wide, sinewy chest. He jerked off his pajama pants. His thick erection, slick with his own desire, stood rigid before him from the juncture of his strong thighs. She spread her legs wide, biting her lower lip to keep from jumping up and sucking him deep.

  Hunger flamed within his light eyes as he reached into his bedside table and removed a condom. He put it on quickly before gently lowering his large body over hers. Her breath caught with the first full contact of his hot skin against hers. Wanting more, she pulled his head down for a passionate kiss. He kissed her long, slowly, and thoroughly, while his large hands roamed over her body. She writhed beneath him, lifting her hips of the bed urging him to end the exquisite torture. Finally, he reached down to take his erection in his hands and guided it to her silky opening. His head lifted and he gazed into her eyes as his rock hard erection pushed within her. He filled her completely, stretching her wet walls, and bumping against her womb. It felt so good, so right; she squeezed her eyes shut and threw her head back to savor it.

  He moved slowly, sliding each wonderful inch in and out of her with slow, deep, purposeful strokes. Her moans started softly, but with each glide of his body they grew louder. His fingers brushed across her eyelids and cheek before he took her chin in his hand and lowered her head. She opened her eyes and met his fiery gaze. They didn’t speak, just watched the ecstasy on each other’s face as he deeply stroked her.