“She’s gonna leave, dude.” Vince shrugs a shoulder. “She has left town on me like, six times now. At least.”
“Yeah, she will leave,” Tom says, and his words rumble right through me. “But I’m having her as long as I can before she does.”
He turns both our bodies and we’re walking, his arms still around me. We’re a compass and we’re pointing to a bed. Vince is flushed away behind us. The crowd parts for us; eyes flicker from me to Tom; women look jealous, the men avert their eyes.
When we halt to let a bachelorette party pass us in a succession of tiaras and feather boas, I tip my head back. How can I feel this powerful, wrapped in his muscle? Because it’s mine now. “You never told me what you would do with me when you got me home.”
“I can’t tell you that,” Tom replies, and when I miss a step in the crowd near the door, his body presses even tighter against my back. His hand finds the hem of my top and slides in, a flat palm across my stomach. “You know I can’t tell you.”
“All I need is a clue.” Too soon, we’re out on the sidewalk, the air so cold it burns. I turn in his arms but he’s already stepping back, his warmth receding. The watch on his wrist from my father ticks.
“I’d say good night,” he says with visible difficulty. He’s reining himself back in, and it hurts to witness. It labors his lungs and the veins in his inner arms are cords. “And I’d make sure your door was locked.”
“I don’t think so.” That bass hum in my bones is back. That trash-a-kitchen feeling. “I’d ask you really, really nicely to give me what I want. Everything,” I remind him.
His white teeth bite into his bottom lip and he looks away down the street. There’s so much conflict in his eyes. Finally, he concedes, “If I could, I probably would.” It comes out of him, rough and soft, and his black pupils are ringed in violent color.
I’ve known him for most of my life, but this man is now someone I can’t know.
Not until we’re down to skin and sweat and kissing. That’s all I’ll ever want from him. I want those white perfect teeth. I want that narrow-eyed male possession, that don’t touch her, that barrier his body created to block the world out. His vicious fist unfolded and his trailing fingertips gentle on my skin.
I want to provoke and tease until he gives himself to me, rough and tender.
There’s no furniture left inside Maison de Destin, so I guess it’s walls, sills, and benches for us. We wouldn’t make it to my bed. I don’t care if this ruins us, or the house. I need to feel him, deep. I never want to feel hungry again.
I want to kiss Tom Valeska until everything falls apart.
I may as well have said all of that aloud, because he closes his eyes briefly and when he opens them, they’re like flames.
Chapter 18
I hurry down the broken front path because I’m chickening out in a major way.
The drive home was tense enough to break bones. Every red light, we looked at each other and had to grab on to the car. I’m aching from the effort. So now I’m possibly about to put my mouth on my childhood friend. The one person left that I can’t mess up. And I’m the first woman he’ll be with since his epic eight-year romance?
I’ll be the second woman he’ll sleep with, and meanwhile, my body has frequent-flier miles? I need a minute. I need to smell my armpits and brush my teeth. I only make it to the front door before I feel Tom’s hand on my arm.
“Come down the side of the house.” He squints up at the sky. “I think it’s going to rain.” He makes it sound like very bad news.
“I want to say goodbye to the fireplace.” I’m not even kidding. I want to sit against it, and think about Loretta, and ask her in my mind for her advice.
“It’s not safe in there.” He takes my forearms in his hands. “The power’s off. Come on.” It’s weird and overly insistent. He begins to tug me, and my suspicion deepens.
“Why, what’s in here?” I twist away and get my key in the lock, kick the door open with my toe, and finally see why he’s holding me back.
My fireplace is gone.
Whoever took it down didn’t do a particularly artful job. There’s a pile of bricks remaining and a hole in the ceiling, covered over by a tarp. The worst part is, Tom was right. The house now looks huge, stretching all the way to the back door. I see now what all of this was.
“Did Jamie tell you to just do it and beg forgiveness later?” I don’t turn my head. I know the answer. “Specialist demolition, huh?”
“I had to make a decision on the spot. I couldn’t get those guys for another two weeks, so I . . .” He puts his hands on my waist and turns me to him. “I’m sorry. I was hoping you wouldn’t see until the morning. I was going to get up early—”
“And you’d say that you had some guys in at the crack of dawn. I’d say, Wow, how’d you do that so fast? I click my fingers”—I snap them in his face—“and my wish is granted. You’re the good guy just doing what I asked you to do.”
“Yeah. That was my plan.” His eyes get a little mean. “That’s my role in your family, right? I’ve got to achieve whatever you guys need, instantly and perfectly. Or I’m out.”
“What are you talking about?” What a bizarre thing to say. “I can’t believe you took me out of the house while this happened.” I try to shake him off. “You were counting on the fact that you can get me to say yes to anything.” How fucking embarrassing.