Hostile Takeover Hill, W (thriller books to read .txt) 📖

unless something had unsettled him. A casual, reasonable bed partner didn’t unsettle him. She’d have let her lips curl in a satisfied smile if it wouldn’t feel like a knife slash across her tight face.

He lifted his gaze to her. He at least had the decency to give her a wry quirk of his lips. “I’m sorry. You’re right. I’m being an ass. This isn’t personal, Marcie.”

“This is so incredibly personal you can’t get rid of me fast enough. If I was one of your easy ass fucks, you’d be ordering me to go down on you underneath the breakfast table while you ate your fluffy, pretty omelet.” Ignoring the fact that as her voice rose, the squeaks and breaks of her abraded vocal cords got worse, she stepped back into him, locked her hands in his shirt front. “You made love to me last night. You let me inside you.”

“It was a mistake. I care about you, Marcie.” When he put his hands over her wrists, his face was locked down again, that expression she was beginning to hate. “We can’t do this. There’s no way any of it works, and you need to stop trying. I’ll be cruel if you force me to it. That’s a promise. Take what you’ve been given and leave it at that.”

“What did I give you, Ben?” She stared up at him. He was looking at her, but not really at her. It was as if he’d blanked out her features and was staring at something faceless. She dug her nails into flesh. She’d marked him as well. He had claw marks in his back. “You figure if you give a woman Nirvana, she’ll be okay with the fact you’ve taken nothing for yourself? It doesn’t play with me. You thought I was out of it in the tub last night. I wasn’t. You were intimate with me. Caring. And don’t you dare deny what happened after, on the balcony.”

His eyes went ice cold so abruptly it startled her. Putting his hands on her wrists, he detached her hands from his shirtfront. “Wait here.”

He turned, shutting the door as if he didn’t believe she’d obey, and she probably wouldn’t have, except the frigid look in his eyes held her frozen, uncertain. When he came back, opened the door, he held her shoes. He locked her stiff fingers around them.

“I won’t talk about this further. Not right now. You’re not in the right frame of mind for it, and neither am I. Go to the limo.” When she continued to stand there, staring at him, he physically moved her off the stoop onto the walkway, closed the grate to the alcove, shutting her out. He stared at her through the bars. She wondered if he realized it looked like he was shutting himself into a prison cell.

“I am your friend, Marcie, but from this moment on, only your friend. We are to each other what we were a few days ago.”

She couldn’t help it. She gave a bitter laugh. “Yeah, that much is true. The funny thing is, I’m the only one who accepts what that is.”

“I’ll talk to you when I get back from Houston.” With that, he stepped back into the house and closed the door. Fucking closed the door in her face.

He wouldn’t talk to her when he got back. He’d do everything he could to avoid talking to her. When they next saw one another, it would be at a Thanksgiving or Christmas gathering with the others, where he could treat her with smooth charm, like any other woman he held at arm’s length.

What swept through her was so strong, it made her lightheaded. She swayed, closed her eyes. Which was a mistake, since images from last night once again went through her head. The power of them, the emotion, the all-consuming…everything. He’d say he’d given her what she wanted, and she only had herself to blame for putting her heart out there, when he’d told her what to expect. What total horseshit. What happened last night wasn’t a one-sided experience.

She was young, but she wasn’t stupid. She also wasn’t some melodramatic teenager, imagining things. Even when she was in her teens, she’d looked at him and seen things others hadn’t. She remembered it now, him standing in the shadows of Jon and Rachel’s wedding, watching their first dance. For just a brief moment, there’d been a look in his eyes…

It recalled the many painful times she’d been reminded she had no parents to come to awards ceremonies, see her off to prom, ask her how her day had gone, things every other kid with functioning parents took for granted. He trusted very few, and those few were now married, somehow pulled away from him, even though it looked as if they were still standing right there, where they’d always been. Everybody dealt with change, but it broke her heart, seeing in that brief glimpse that this was a path he didn’t know how to follow, shutting him out of their happiness.

Unable to see that desolation and not try to help, she’d gone to him. Yeah, she was a shy awkward teen, but she thought of him as her friend. Sidling up to him in those shadows, she’d elbowed him to catch his attention. His expression was back to being what was expected, congratulatory and amused, but that didn’t matter. She pulled his head down to whisper in his ear, steeling herself to keep her cool, even though his whiskey-sweet breath was on her neck.

“Let’s go put an ‘I support offshore drilling’ sticker on the back of Jon’s hydroelectric getaway car.”

“He’d retaliate. Put a Disney Gay Pride Day sticker on the back of the McLaren.”

She smirked up at him, glad to see the sad look replaced by his smile. “Then let me have some of your drink.”

“When you’re twenty-one.”

“Does everything fun happen then?”

“Only to boys. For girls, it’s age thirty. Your lives totally suck until then.”

She’d punched him in the