Wide eyes push against his bruised lids. “This is a surprise. You’d said back at the apartment—”
“Forget what I said. The fact is, you took care of me when I had no one. I was alone and pregnant and… you took us in.”
“I thought I loved you back then.” He shrugs. “You were the hottest thing on two legs.”
That’s not love. Anger boils in my veins, but I douse the fire and concentrate on my end goal. “I think, if you give me another chance, I could learn to love you.” I grip my hands behind my back to keep them from trembling. “I owe you my life.”
“You’d come back?” he whispers.
“If you’ll have us.”
His hand reaches out for me, and I hold my breath before taking it. He tugs me to sit at his side. “You’ll never be rid of me, Lay. I’ve worked too hard to make you mine.”
“So you were just testing me? When you let us leave Seattle, you had every intention of bringing us back?” There’s too much anger in my voice.
He turns away from me again. Shutting me out. But I need him to tell me the truth.
“Stewart.” I calm the pounding rage in my head. “I want things to work out between us. But you need to be honest with me. I’ll tell you the truth about anything you want to know, just please, let me in.” I stroke his arm until he gives me his eyes. “Please.”
“I saw you were looking for jobs. Made a phone call. That’s it.”
My heart skips at his honesty. I wondered how I got hired so quickly when I had no work experience. “You’re the one responsible for getting me a job with the UFL.”
He shrugs one shoulder.
I give him what I hope is a flirty smile and pull his hand into my lap. “Is that all I owe to you?”
He grins and then hisses in pain.
“Ouch, be careful.” I run my fingertip lightly across his lips, and my stomach rolls.
Even surrounded with deep purple bruises, there’s a flicker of desire in his eyes. “You’re really mine?”
I bob my head a couple times in answer, not trusting my voice.
“Come here.” His demand is heavy with want.
Mustering my strength, I think about all I’m sacrificing and shove it away. I lean forward. His hands stab into my hair and he brings his lips to my ear. “We need to get out of town.”
“Mmm, yeah. That’s what I want.”
“There could be fallout, and I need to be home to make sure your little detour doesn’t lose me my license.”
My stomach pitches, and a chill races up my spine. “What do you mean?” My question sounds relaxed, even though my heart feels like it’ll pound out of my chest.
He releases me enough to see his eyes, but keeps me close. “Gibbs and I made a deal. He hired you, and I sent him a little publicity package wrapped in a tainted doctor and some very specific drugs.”
“What does that have to do with us?”
“Nothing you need to worry about. Let’s just say Gibbs got the publicity he wanted.” He pulls me in for a kiss, but to avoid using his destroyed lips, he uses his tongue and teeth, releasing me with a bite.
I swallow a gag, then lick the metallic flavor of his blood from my mouth and pretend that his act of possession turns me on. Running my hands down his torso, his hips flex in response.
“I want to fuck you so badly right now.” He groans and pulls my hand to his erection.
Lightheaded with disgust, I struggle to get more information. “How’d you find a doctor who’d agree to sacrifice his reputation?” I grip him tightly and stroke, with a non-verbal promise of reward if he answers my question.
“Yeah, you missed that, didn’t you, Laylay?”
I let go, threatening to stop. He presses my hand down and rolls his hips. Talk, Stew.
“The MD had charges filed against him for selling OxyContin. Turns out he also had a nasty habit of videotaping himself with patients after he’d put them to sleep.”
I recoil, finding it impossible to keep my expression indifferent. To think I was alone in the same room with that sick fuck.
“I approached him, explained that I needed an MD who had nothing to lose. If he agreed, I’d give him a fake passport and enough money to leave the country. He jumped all over it.”
“I don’t get it. You did all that just to get me a job?”
He has the decency to look embarrassed. “Not exactly.”
“Stewart, I’m your wife.” I’m surprised the words flow as naturally as they do. Years of practicing have made me an expert liar. “You can trust me.” Those four words, the same one’s I used to get to Blake to share his secrets with me, sour and wash me in shame.