BUFF Page 12

  He growls low, bringing her back to focus. "Um, I just asked the clerk if anyone matching your description—you know you don't get too many tall and… men of your big, uh, build… in these parts that often, so..."

  Please stop mumbling.

  But the nerves eat away at her and she just can’t stop herself. "Yes, so, I asked if someone like you rented a room. Forty bucks later and I got a room number... easy as pie really..."

  She sneaks a small peek at him watching his chest rise higher with each passing second.

  "Why’re you here?" he asks through clenched teeth.

  She isn’t sure where exactly to start. The truth is tangled in a web of emotions. Colt is blunt and to the point. She should just blurt it out, save herself more humiliation.

  “Colt, I—”

  The words stop in her throat when his arm snakes out and yanks her from the shoulder and into the dark room behind him. The door slams making the lamp on the nearby desk rattle.

  He lets go once they’re inside the room, but he doesn’t lengthen the distance between them. In fact from Becky's vantage point he’s towering over her like some dark overlord about to smite down a harsh ruling. The light from the room is dim at best, casting shadows on his face that make him appear harder and meaner than she remembers.

  Staggering mentally under his stare she opens her mouth and hopes instinct will take over. "I, um—”

  “What the hell were you thinking?” He stomps closer.

  She steps back, bumping the hard edge of the bed corner. “I wasn’t… I mean—”

  “Yeah, damn straight you weren't. You shouldn't be here—leave.” He stabs a finger at the door, his eyes blazing into hers. “Now.”

  “No."

  “That wasn’t a request. Get back to town before your parents find out where you are.” When she remains in place her eyes hold his and then he erases the foot between them with one large stride. “You're leaving whether it's your choice or not—it’s up to you."

  His hand comes up but she’s quicker, darting away from his grasp and moves around him. “Oh, no, not before I say what I need to say."

  “Becky—”

  “Just hear me out, I need to say this. I… please."

  When he turns Becky knows he’s expecting her to be that vulnerable girl he first met, but, standing opposite him now, her stance is rigid and determined, her eyes two hard jewels like a wooden doll. She is anything but the Becky Appleton he’s become familiar with.

  She can see his anger simmering under a fine line of paper-thin control. “Don’t do this,” he says through gritted teeth. “I'm a dangerous man… you get that?"

  “This has nothing to do with who you are, Colt."

  “It has everything to do with it! Leave, Becky, leave before you regret it.” His words almost sound like a warning, something wise that she should heed before he does something he doesn’t want to. But she can’t. She won’t. Not when she has come this far.

  “Maybe you can ignore what's going on but I can’t, I won’t. I…” She fumbles, licking her dry lips. Her thumb traces the inside of her palm as she searches his eyes for a sign. Any sign of connection. “…I care about you," she says, whisper soft. When he stands as still as a statue, with no flicker of feeling for her confession, she forces herself to continue, “I know what happened between us… What you went through was traumatic but things like this don't happen every day. I'm not sure… I mean, I'm not dealing with it right I know but I can't ignore it Colt… For the first time I don't want to."

  “You got no idea what you’re saying,” he replies, shaking his head. "You're a kid. I helped you years ago, Becky, that's all this is. You see me as some kind of a hero—well I'm not!” His voice seems to roar, shaking the very ground beneath her. “Not anymore... There’s no good in me and you need to stay the hell away from me!"

  She pretends she doesn’t hear him yelling at her, gulping down the anxiety that vibrates inside her. “I'm not a child, I know I'm… damaged... but I know how I feel, I know what's going on inside me isn't some stupid adolescent crush. You’re the first guy I’ve liked…”

  “You wouldn’t like me if you knew the things I've done.” His voice is gruff and his words are short on patience.

  “But that’s it, Colt. I have seen the things you’ve done. When you saved me from being raped you didn’t just save me from that sick bastard. Colt, you saved me from myself.” She can’t help but smile, remembering what he did for her. “I’ve seen worse men to know you’re not bad inside and don't tell me I'm just feeling this because of the situation,” she says, sighing. "Colt. don’t you get it? Maybe you weren't looking for it—God knows I wasn’t—but you found something in me I thought died long ago. You got me when no-one has ever even tried and I realize I don’t have to pretend with you. I don’t want to—”

  “Stop.”

  “—When I went into my shell I’ve done nothing but pretend to be something I’m not to everyone around me, being in control of everything. But then you came along and—”she inhales sharply“—I can’t fake my way through you.”

  "Becky—"

  "You see me, Colt." She shrugs her shoulders, her eyes misty as she strips herself completely bare. "You make me feel alive.” Her flush burns like the Sun is scorching six inches above her. “I like you and I won’t apologize for it.”

  Stark silence follows; their breathing the only audible passage flowing between them. Becky fiddles with the round button of her jeans. Her fingers betraying her with a slight shake in every move. She peers at him through her lashes. All her strength leaves her body.

  God, why isn’t he saying something? Doing anything?

  As though he can read her mind he makes his move. Taking a step closer to her, she backs away. He doesn’t gobble up the distance like she thinks he will. But he doesn’t retreat either.

  She bites her bottom lip; his rejection is going to cut her deep. Colt, staring at her, licks his lips, his deep voice oddly soothing as he quietly steps closer, placing himself right in front of her, and says, “Don't ever think I’ll forget what you did for me."

  How could she ever think a man like Colt would see something more in a plain girl like her? What had she expected? For him to declare his undying love for her? Maybe she is a child compared to him… She said her peace. She should leave before she falls apart.

  “It doesn't matter,” she mumbles, moving to the side, but he catches her arm before she can place an inch of distance from him.

  “It matters.” His words are hard as though set in stone. She raises her eyes to meet his, unwillingly captured by the overwhelming gaze he’s giving her. “It matters more than you'll ever know."

  “But not enough—”

  “You saved my life!” She feels his words deep in her bones. “If it wasn’t for you I'd be dead. Don't you understand? That's not something I’ll forget—I don't want to."

  Her head shakes, her loose curls rippling. “Colt, I don't understand."

  He nods, his chest heaving in hard restraint. “Maybe I don't either,” he answers, softly. “All I know is I'm alive because of you, Becky.” His hand comes up fisting in the air and comes back down, the veins in his wrist protruding. “You mean something.” Her heart flutters and she feels so close until he says, “But it can’t be what you want. That can't happen. You saved my life I owe you, but it ends here."

  ”I didn’t come here thinking we’ll get married and be together. I know there’s no future for us.” Becky hadn’t come here to runaway with him into the proverbial sunset. Her family are in trouble. She’s moving away—God knows where—and Colt… Colt is from a dangerous world. She sighs, knowing it can never be. “I had to at least tell you how I feel and to say thank you.”

  “For what?”

  “For saving me."

  It’s her turn to come closer, a compulsion firing up inside her as she sees the control in him break and snap only to fall back in place. He shakes his head, licking his lips and taking a bre
ath in one movement.

  “Don't do this,” he cautions.

  “Do what?

  “You want answers to questions I can’t answer.” His face turns red as frustration soaks up every word he spits out. “I don't want you and I never will—there, is that what you wanted to hear? You done hurting yourself?”

  His face is next to hers. She shoves him. The surprise of the movement jerks him off balance but he easily finds control.

  “Yes,” she whispers.

  “Good.” His hoarse voice shakes.

  “You think I wanted you to get inside me? To mess with my head?” She goes to shove him again, but his hands come up to block her, holding her tiny wrists between his solid fingers.

  “I left without saying goodbye for a reason, so leave,” he mutters. Before her head drops down she notes his face is tight with pain. Her sobs grow, her body shakes.

  Her center is breaking into pieces.

  When her wrists go limp under his hold he slowly lets go. His hands stay still in the air, waiting.

  ‘You’re a kid…’

  She needs to pretend. She needs to cover the pain rotting inside her.

  Clearing her throat she presses her hands over the ridges of her body. Her composure gathers together so rapidly Colt almost looks surprised at the sudden change in her.

  Her shoulders square under her baby-blue cashmere scoop sweater. Her hip-hugger jeans straighten along with her stance. With a hurried wipe the evidence of her tears are gone. Her cheeks, drained of color, are taut along with the rigid set of her jaw and her eyes—her eyes are black like two lumps of coal.

  “I'm sorry. I was wrong. I was wrong about everything.” Her face twists threatening to crumble. “You’ll never see me again. Goodbye, Colt.” She walks over to the door, her hand a turn away from losing him.

  “Becky, wait.” His fingers close over her elbow, pulling her back into the room. The door stays opened, the light from the Sun glaring over them even with the shadow of the room on top of them. Her chest collides with his and her forehead bumps his chest just as a sob escapes her closed mouth. “Becky…” his torn voice whispers between them, "I might want more than you're willing to give."

  "How do you know? Maybe I want more than you can give, Colt." Her tummy does a backflip.

  "Not likely." His hand disappears into her sea of hair, drawing her head closer to his.

  He kisses her forehead. The crystal blue vanishes, blackening when her tongue sweeps across the lower half of her mouth. He runs his thumb over her lower lip and softly kisses it. She can already taste his fire that’s burning inside of him.

  "I know what I'm getting into," she whispers.

  "I'm bound to lose control with you." His voice is so thick with desire, it brings on the sensation of hair rising on her arms and nape.

  "Then lose control."

  His mouth descends on her lips followed by a raw deafening silence that only breaks when she hears her own gasp flooding her ears. He collides against her; their bodies and mouths fusing together all at once. The moist heat of his mouth is the first sensation she feels; the intense contact dosing her thoughts and liquefying her in her place as he presses his parted lips harder into hers.

  His mouth hovers over hers for a second only to wedge her plump lower lip between his. Her shaky moan vanishes in between them as he kisses her again, toying with her mouth, thoroughly touching every unattended inch of it. Her eyes close as the heat of his want travels through her, catching on the nerve-endings inside her and making her bloodstream cry out.

  His hands come up and cup the sides of her face, directing her head, turning it sideways as he seeks to deepen the kiss. His face slants as his lips pull from hers, opening slightly wider before consuming her again.

  Their mouths mate, opening and closing together, slowly at first, then the pace quickens, fervently, when her tongue darts out tenderly. His tongue meets hers, massages it agonizingly in slow maneuvering circles before taking over completely and leading her into her mouth.

  His nose bumps hers, turns the other way as though to get even deeper, demanding every inch of her. His hands fist in her hair, dragging her closer and all she can do is go to him and steady herself by placing her small hands on his wide chest. He rolls his tongue over hers, caressing the sides of her mouth then pulls away only to start the assault all over again. He tastes like coconut. Sweet and exotic. Creamy and light.

  Her hot mouth yields under his dominating possession as he roughly nips her chin then grazes the corners of her mouth. He rubs his lips against hers as he waits for her to catch her breath, pressing small chaste but pleading kisses over every small curve of her lips.

  “Colt…” she says, breathless.

  The bed is behind them.

  His fingers latch harder into her hair, lost from sight in her curls. Her eyes are closed, her mouth is red and swollen, exhausted from his ministrations but begging for more. Her dark lashes shake as he continues, touching her skin, experiencing the feel of his mouth under hers…

  “Becky, this... I shouldn't."

  She licks her upper lip, than follows with her bottom, grazing his thumb slowly along the way. Her eyes find his in their aroused haze. “But you did. Why?”

  He swallows hard. His forehead is still pressed against hers, his thumb sweeping across the small indent in the corner of her mouth. “With you… I can’t help myself."

  “You want me?” she asks, softly. Though a question, the indications of his desire for her are more than obvious.

  “I want you,” he reveals, his voice low and guttural as though he is defeated. “I want you so much but I can’t have what I want."

  “Colt—”

  “Shssh.” His finger touches the center of her mouth. “Listen to me."

  She nods and a small smile breaks his firm pout as though pleased that it’s the first time she’s ever willingly listening to him.

  “You don't know me or what I do and that's how it has to be."

  “I'll never see you again?” she asks, her voice desperate and breathy. She knows the truth but she hopes he will tell her the impossible.

  But he’s already shaking his head. He hasn’t moved away from her. He hasn’t turned to ice. In fact he can’t stop touching her. The fingers buried in her hair are working softly against her scalp. His chest bumps hers as he takes a preparatory breath.

  “I’m dangerous, Becky. I can’t have you or anyone in it. There's too much at stake and you can't be a part of it. Ever."

  “But what if—”

  His hand tightens around her. “Ever.” His jaw clenches hard, the bone juts out against the skin.

  Her eyes cast to the floor with a trembling sigh. “So this is it."

  “This is it."

  She looks straight into his eyes and whispers the words he’d uttered to her once before, “I believe you."

  “Hey…” He grips the back of her head tenderly, applying the slightest pressure for her to look at him. “I never wanted you hurt."

  His penetrating stare falls hard on her. Her breaths staggering inside her, turning over as she fights for semblance. “I know."

  “You need to be careful."

  She shakes off his concern with a nod, pinning him with a meaningful glare. “You need to be careful, Colt, or is getting shot a weekly hazard in your line of work?"

  “I'll be fine."

  “You always say that."

  He leans closer. “Because it's true.” His eyes are set on her aching lips. “Be careful."

  “I always am—"

  “Promise me,” he demands.

  “Colt, please."

  “Becky. Don't make me ask again."

  Her hand comes up and touches the side of his face, reveling at the feel of his gruff skin under hers. Her thumb sweeps his cheek, her insides flipping at the sensation.

  Her eyes hold his. “I promise.”

  His eyes drop to her mouth again. “Thank you.” His solemn face centers in her trembling lip
s. His eyes scorching as he comes within inches of kissing her. “That makes it okay… as long I know you're okay."

  “Colt—”

  His mouth crashes into hers, his lips twisting with hers as they intertwine together. Their mouths, folds of flesh, gasping as they turn and dance over each other. When he finally releases her, he steps back completely, no longer touching her.

  “Go,” he says.

  “I…” She fumbles with her purse, finding her keys and latching onto them like glue. “Take care, Colt.”

  She steps out from under the door and daylight makes her eyes water—or at least that's the excuse she wants to believe. She’s in denial about everything. She won’t make it to her car if she knows that this is real—so real—and she still can’t have it.

  “Becky."

  Her shoulders shudder. She stops, turning halfway round.

  “I mean it. Be careful."

  “I will.” She smiles a half smile already moving away from him and feeling the loss acutely as it steals her breath. “You too."

  And then she runs. Runs harder and faster than she has ever done. She is so fast, everything is a blur. She doesn’t remember buckling her seat or turning on to the small highway that leads home. She finds herself on the road, her brain on automatic as she steers herself in the right direction, not being able to pay attention to anything but the brokenness burning a hole inside her. She is crying so hard she can’t control the sobs that come wrenching from her mouth. Her side hurts, her eyes ache, but nothing will subside the torment.

  She is in Hell.

  She just let the best thing that will ever happen to her walk out of her life.

  * * *

  “MONEY’S ON THE TABLE. Now fuck off.”

  The prostitute Emmett picked up a few hours ago vacates the room muttering some expletive under her breath.

  Being beaten up had hurt his pride. He needed something to take his humiliation out on. He’d even bought a wig and outfit to make the hooker look like his Rebecca.

  Sitting on the old-beaten mattress staring at the camera in his hands, he knows he has struck gold.

  Rebecca needs his help. She needs saving.

  She acts like she’s better than everyone—everything—living above the standing of her peers. She acts like a goddamn saint when in reality she’s anything but.