“I still have a lot of painting to do, but I’ll get it done in time.” She was heading toward the door now.
“Let us know if you need help.”
“Thanks.” She peeked back at him and smiled, but he knew she’d never call for that help.
This was the end. And they both knew it.
He stood there staring at the door long after she’d shut it behind her.
TWENTY
I turned up the radio as I pulled onto the highway on the way to my brother??s place, trying to chase away the depressing thoughts that were infiltrating my brain. I’d come home last night after going to a movie with Bailey to find my apartment fully painted, every corner cut, every baseboard glossed. An invoice from a local painting company had been on my kitchen counter, the charge paid for by one Ian Foster.
The gesture had both touched and frustrated me. I’d spent the last week trying to forget the way Foster had looked at me, the way he’d made me feel that night in his room, the crazy things he’d made me want. I’d almost walked next door a hundred times to try to talk to him about it—to try to figure out why I was feeling so . . . undone. But I knew the minute I saw him, it would just tear the bandage right off the wound again. No matter how electric the connection had been between us, I needed to stay away from him. I was leaving in just a few days. And he was looking for something bigger than what I could offer anyway.
That last night with him had scared me. Everything had been so intense, so out there. And I’d responded to it, given in like some slave girl. The more he’d pushed me, the more turned on I’d gotten. I’d wanted to please him, and probably would’ve allowed him to take me even further than he did. Plus, I got the sense he’d only shown me a glimpse anyway. I couldn’t imagine what other things lurked in that closet of his.
And the next morning, instead of being appalled at how achy and sore I was, I’d gone into the bathroom to look at my back in the mirror. When no marks were there, I’d actually felt disappointment. Which proved I was losing it. I was a doctor, goddammit. My whole career was focused on healing, and here I was letting some guy hurt me. And not just letting him, but enjoying it.
Yes, I needed to stay away.
Even if I couldn’t stop thinking about him.
Even if part of me was desperate to know why he made me feel this way.
My life waited for me somewhere else. My family was counting on me. I was moving. And even thinking of changing that for some guy I’d slept with a few times was ludicrous. It had to be that whole weird evolutionary chemical thing that made me want to fall for the man I’d lost my virginity to. My body was under some misguided impression that it was going to mate for life. Logically, I knew this.
But when Foster did things like paying for my whole apartment to get painted, he made it harder for me to keep my scientific brain in charge. So, despite knowing it was a bad idea, I’d stopped by his apartment on the way out to thank him and to tell him I was going to pay him back. I didn’t want guilt-laden gifts. He didn’t owe me anything. But only Pike had been home.
“Sorry, doc. He’s out,” Pike had told me as he leaned against the doorframe. No smile. No invitation inside. The completely un-Pike-like behavior had made my stomach drop to my toes.
“Out?”
He gave a little nod.
“Like leather-pants out?” I’d asked, trying to keep my tone nonchalant even though my throat had gone Mojave dry.
His gaze had slid away, his shoulders sagging. “I’m not sure.”
“Got it,” I’d said, the words clipped. “Thanks a lot.”
I’d turned to leave. “Hey, doc.”
I’d spun back around, arms crossed in what probably looked to be anger but felt more like a desperate attempt to hold myself together.
“I know you feel something for him. I get it. But if you’re not sticking around, just let him go,” he said quietly. “People think I had it rough with what I went through as a kid, but despite his family having money, Foster had it worse. He was alone all the time. The people who were supposed to love him bailed when he needed them the most. He doesn’t want to be left again.”
My fingers dug into my biceps, the sadness in Pike’s voice, the picture he was painting, making me want to reach out to Foster even more. “Is that why he wants to . . . own a woman?”
The words were hard to even get across my tongue—the concept so foreign.
Pike brushed a hand over his head, the spikes springing back as soon as he swiped over them. “Maybe? There’s no doubt he’s a dominant. He’s always been a bossy fucker—at least as long as I’ve known him. But I think him wanting something so clearly defined is a way to try to control who leaves him. But of course, it’s a false sense of security. A woman can walk away at any time—vanilla relationship, slave, submissive, or anything in between. One day he’s going to have to accept that caring for someone is always going to be a risk, no matter what.”
I digested his words. “Which is why you steer clear of relationships?”
“Nah, doc, I’m just too fucked up to inflict myself on someone long term. I’m best in small doses.” He smirked, but there wasn’t much enthusiasm behind it. “And I’m not trying to scare you off Foster. I can tell something is different when he’s with you. I’ve never seen him get so . . . possessive. But I love the guy and don’t want to see him get his heart handed back to him again.”
I frowned, an unshakeable melancholy falling over me, but nodded at Pike. “You’re a good friend to him.”