gotten dolled up for him.
She was beautiful and stacked and everything he’d once thought he wanted—but nothing he truly did. Seemed he had a taste for a certain slender, dark-haired, doe-eyed girl and only she would do.
Pagan motioned him inside, and as he passed her she said, “Where have you been? Why didn’t you call? Who were you with? I have a right to know!”
He turned to face her, hating himself more than ever.
Shock registered a moment before a nervous laugh slipped from her. “I know I’m acting like a witch right now. I’ve been worried about you, that’s all. But you’re here now, so I can relax. Let’s have a drink and we can discuss something else.”
Witch? Evie would have shot him in the face and called him a whore. And as much as he always despised when she used the word, he kind of preferred that kind of response to this. Acceptance.
Pagan took one of his hands and urged him forward. He planted his heels and clasped her other hand, holding her in place.
“You’re asking questions you have every right to ask,” he said, “and if I was a good man, I’d answer them. But I’m not, and I’m sorry about that, too. You deserved better than I gave you and you deserve better than you’re getting.”
Paling, she released him to twist the silk of her dress. “What are you trying to say?”
“I’m saying . . . we’re over. I’m sorry,” he repeated.
“You’re serious,” she gasped out.
“I am.”
“But . . . but . . . is there someone else?”
He gave her the hard truth. “Yes.” He owed her that much at least.
She threw herself at him and gripped his shirt, clinging. “Who is she?”
“Does it matter?”
“Tell me. Tell me right now. Is there more than one?”
“Pagan. Don’t do this to yourself.”
A moment passed, then two, and all she did was breathe heavily. “You’re right. I don’t care who she is.” Her hand trembled as she hooked a lock of hair behind her ear, her gaze never leaving him. “Get her, or them, out of your system. I don’t mind. Then come back to me.”
He pried her fingers from his T-shirt and kissed her knuckles. As tenderly as he was able, he said, “No, Pagan. This is good-bye between us.”
“But . . . but . . .” Tears welled in her eyes and trickled down her cheeks. “Blue. Don’t do this. Please.”
Maybe he should have done to her what he’d done to Noelle Tremain, and given
No, he thought next. The guilt of what he’d done to Noelle still haunted him. This was the better way. The honest way.
The right way.
Sometimes the truth could tear a person apart piece by piece, but at least the pieces could be welded back together, stronger than before. With lies, the pieces went up in flames before they ever hit the ground, and there was nothing left to patch.
“I’m sorry, but I’m not going to change my mind about this. And, Pagan? You should be happy that I won’t. You’re far better off without me. You want a family. I don’t.”
“But I don’t have to have a family,” she rushed out. “Besides, I don’t even want one. Not without you.”
“Don’t say that. Don’t change your heart’s desires for me or any man.”
She pressed on. “Take some time to think about this. It’s late, and you’ve been gone, so you’re probably tired right now. Yes. You’re tired, that’s all. Get some sleep and we’ll talk again.”
“No,” he said, shaking his head. “I’m not going to change my mind.”
“Yes. You will. You must.”
He tried again. “You’re a beautiful, passionate woman, and someday a man will come along and put you first. But that man isn’t me.”
“I don’t have to be first. I just want to be with you. Please, Blue. I love you. Love you so much.”
He’d never considered the fact that she might actually love him. He wouldn’t have stayed with her this long if he had. “You’ll get over me,” he said softly. “One day you might even thank me for this.” Then he stalked out of the house, feeling like a total tool because the breakup was over—and all he wanted to do was go to Evie.
Twelve
BLUE BROKE SPEED RECORDS to get to Evie’s house, hid his car, and swiftly snuck his way to her back porch, out of sight of her neighbors. Then he pounded on the door with enough force to bend the entire structure.
For the first time in their acquaintance, he was single.
A minute passed. Two. She didn’t answer.
He knocked harder, leaving an indentation. If she wasn’t here . . .
If she’d changed her mind . . .
He could have disarmed her system—again—but he didn’t want to give up his advantage or add to the bill he still hadn’t paid. She hadn’t yet realized that no matter what improvements she made, she would never be able to keep him out. His power could fry the wires in mere seconds.
Finally, she opened the door. His heart kicked into an uncontrollable rhythm. Unlike Pagan, she hadn’t dressed to please him. She wore a tank top and shorts, and she wore them well, her slender body on perfect display. Her hair was loose. Fistable. Her eyes were unreadable, but that was okay, because he could feel the emotion pulsing from her.
White-hot, consuming desire.
His own, always there, roared to the surface.
“I’m sorry for what I said earlier,” she muttered. “For what I’ve said throughout the years. For what I’ve called you. I was wrong and I was cruel. I was a judgmental bitch, just like you called me. And I know these words aren’t good enough. I know I owe you so much more, and I’ll understand if you can’t forgive me.”
Something clenched in his chest. She saw him. In that moment he realized he’d never stopped hoping for this. “Princess, I’ve done bad things. I get why you said what you said. Yes, I can forgive you.”
Relief bathed her expression. “Thank you.”
He nodded.
She nibbled on her bottom lip. “You did it, then,” she said. “You ended things with Pagan.” It wasn’t a question.
He answered anyway. “Yes.”
“Good.” She had her arms wrapped around his neck a second later, her lips mashed against his, her tongue thrusting deep into his mouth, demanding a response. He lifted her off her feet, his hands firm on her ass to hold her against him. Now that he had her, he wasn’t letting her go.
He stepped deeper into the—kitchen, he noted—and kicked the door closed, then walked to the wall and slammed her against it. Screw gentleness. The kiss became a wild thing, so down and dirty he couldn’t stop the little growls rising from his throat, his mouth pressing harder, insisting on more from her. Everything. All.
“Any idea . . . how good . . . you taste?” he asked between sucking and nipping at her.
