Of course, when she did arrive, she was a total nervous wreck. Which was why when someone handed her a glass in the kitchen with an inch of golden liquid, she drank it down without hesitation, even though her mouth tingled from both the taste and the burn.
But she liked the way it made her feel. A little buzzed. A little more confident. And so when the guy asked her if she wanted another, she said yes. It made her head spin, but it also gave her courage. And, thus armed, she went out into the house to find the boy she was looking for.
It didn’t take her long. She was standing by a giant flat screen TV when something inside her seemed to shift and she knew that he must be watching her. She looked around and realized she was right. And after a sip for courage—then the rest of the glass for good luck—she marched across the room, said hi, and kissed him. Long and hard and deep.
It was a blur, but he led her to a room with a bed. And even though she was terrified, she knew the moment she sat on that mattress that she wanted everything. Whatever he was willing to give, she would take like a beggar.
She hadn’t thought he would start with a gift, but when she opened the box and saw the stunning silver bracelet in the shape of infinity, she thought her heart would burst. That she couldn’t cram any more feelings inside her.
But then she was in his arms, and she knew how wrong she was. There was room for more. So much room.
And when he said he loved her, she believed him completely. More than that, she knew that she loved him too.
He wanted more than just kisses—that much she also knew. But the truth was, so did she.
Except she shouldn’t want it. She knew that. She needed to say no and walk away. Heck, she needed to run. And all the way home, too, before she did something stupid.
She needed to rescue herself because her dad wasn’t there and she was on the verge of doing something she shouldn’t.
Something forbidden.
Something she wanted so very, very much.
She stood, and for a moment she was torn between staying and bolting. Then she looked at Wyatt, and all her fears fizzled away. Wyatt. How could she run from him?
She had no idea how she worked up the courage, but she stood. And once she was on her feet, and she was looking at where he still sat on the bed, there was no question anymore. Of course she was staying. How could she not when she was his?
With trembling hands, she unbuttoned her dress, becoming bolder when she saw the way he was looking at her.
And then he touched her, and it was all a sweet blur. His hands on her. Touching her. Murmuring sweet words to her. She wanted it to last forever . . . and at the same time, she wanted more, too.
She was scared, yeah. But she wanted it, too. And the want increased the more he touched her, until she knew for sure that this was it, and Wyatt was the one.
It hurt, but she’d expected it to. But he was sweet and gentle and the hurt faded soon enough. And then it was nice. Really, really nice. She didn’t have an orgasm, but she’d read enough in books to know that was normal. And she also realized that it didn’t much matter. Because she felt amazing without one. Just being beside him was incredible.
So incredible, actually, that they did it again.
She hugged the pillow close, sighing deeply as Wyatt stroked her hair. He’d made her feel so special. Like she was a princess. Like she was the most wonderful thing he’d ever seen.
For a while, they just looked at each other. So long, in fact, that she finally started to laugh. Which made him laugh, too.
“We should probably get up and go back to the party.”
“Do we have to?” She didn’t care about the party. All she wanted was to stay curled up next to him.
His lips curved down as he considered. “Actually, no. This is my room for the night. We can stay as long as you want.”
“Really?” According to the clock on the bedside table, it was just past nine. Her parents had gone all the way into Los Angeles, and weren’t due back until after midnight. “That sounds like heaven.”
“Yeah?” He grinned. “But what on earth are we going to do?”
He kissed her again, and she was pretty sure that her toes caught on fire. When he broke the kiss, she rolled over, looked up at the ceiling, and sighed. “Wow.”
“The only bad thing about staying in here is that there’s nothing to drink except water.” He nodded toward the bathroom. “Are you thirsty? I can get us something.”
“My hero.” She sat up, holding the sheet up over her chest. “I could drink a gallon of soda.”
“Anything you want.” He slid off the bed and pulled his clothes back on. It was probably rude to watch, but he was just so perfect. And he really liked her. Her. Honestly, it was more than perfect.
“Back in a few,” he said, then winked at her before he slipped out the door. She fell back against the pillows, then pulled one over her face so that she could scream with joy and no one could hear.
She heard the door open and she tossed the pillow aside, surprised he’d made it back so quickly.
Except it wasn’t Wyatt. It was her father.
She sat up, the sheet held tight against her as she scurried back until she hit the wall and couldn’t go any further.
He stood in the doorway, the paper on which she’d written the address clutched tight in his hand. His eyes wide. His face red with anger.
“You little whore.” He didn’t shout. Didn’t raise his voice at all. And somehow, that made it all the worse. “Get your clothes on and get outside. Now.”
“Daddy, I—”
“Shut your filthy mouth. And get to the car. Your brother’s in the hospital. And it’s all your fault.”
All her fault.
He only said it once, but she heard it over and over as she threw on her clothes. As she raced out of the house to the front door, tears streaming down her face. As she sat curled up on the back of the car as they raced to the LA area burn center where her brother had been admitted after being airlifted all the way from Santa Barbara.
She stood there, her hands pressed against the glass as she looked at him, deep in a drugged sleep, his body mangled, his skin raw or completely burned off. She couldn’t even go in the room. Couldn’t tell him she was sorry. No visitors were allowed behind the glass. Not with the fourth-degree burns on his back and the side of his face. Not with the risk of infection.
Hour after hour, day after day, she watched him, wishing that she’d never left the house. That she’d never taken Wyatt’s call.
Because her father was right. She’d done something very bad, and her baby brother was being punished for it.
She knew that. Deep down in her gut, she knew it was true.
Most of all, she knew that she’d never forgive herself.
16
“She walked out?” Lyle asked. “Right in the middle of the shoot?” He glanced sideways at Wyatt, breathing hard.