Price of a Kiss (Forbidden Men 1)

His eyes looked extra silver in the room’s fluorescent light. They focused on me, searching my face. With a silent nod, he stepped past me and shut himself inside the shower. The glass was opaque, so I could only see a blurry, peach outline of him through the door.

Leaving briefly to ransack his room and find some fresh clothes for him to wear, I tossed his Country Club uniform into his dirty clothes hamper and returned to the steamy bathroom, where the door hung partially open. I returned the TP bin in front of it and closed the toilet lid to sit and wait.

I swear, he soaped everything down three times. But that was okay with me. Whatever he had to do to make himself feel clean again was fine.

When the water shut off, I was there with a towel.

He looked surprised when he opened the door and saw me. With another muted, humble thank you, he took the terrycloth and dried himself before wrapping it around his waist.

I sat back down on the toilet seat and brought my knees up to my chest to loop my arms around my legs. “I feel like I’m the one who had to do that with her, like she tore down the most basic part of me and left the rest abused and cast off. I feel worthless and cheap, and…and used.”

He nodded once and slid his boxer briefs on under the towel. “Yeah, that pretty much covers what it does to you.”

I could

n’t help it; I began to cry again. Tears sprouted from my eyes and poured down my cheeks before I even realized they’d started. “And you’re okay with that?”

Covering his face with his hand, he whispered, “Reese,” on a choked rasp. “I’m sor—”

“Don’t you dare apologize,” I sobbed. “I’m the one who did this to you. It’s my fault you went through this tonight.”

His lashes flashed open. “No. God, no. You didn’t. Nothing was your fault.”

Dropping his towel, he knelt down in front of me. Against my will, I looked at his chest only to see he’d replaced his hickey with a huge red welt where he’d tried to scrub it off.

“I’m sorry.” He lunged sideways for his shirt.

Once he pulled it on, I reached out, grabbed two handfuls of cloth, and leaned toward him.

He tugged me off the commode and into his arms, where he held me in his lap on the floor of the bathroom.

“It’s okay,” he kept murmuring. “I swear to you, Reese. It wasn’t that bad. I didn’t even finish. As soon as she was done, I—”

“I don’t want details,” I screeched, horrified.

But, really. I hated Mrs. Garrison. Not only had she manipulated him into doing what she wanted; she’d messed with his head, toyed with his body, and prevented him from the only gratification he might’ve actually gotten from tonight.

I know, that was really messed up thinking. But I felt messed up.

“I’m sorry.” His face drained of color. When he tried to shift backward, I only sobbed harder and curled my fingers around handfuls of his soft cotton shirt to hug him tighter. Breathing in heavy drudges of the dryer-sheet-scented cloth, I clung to him, unable to stop bawling.

“It’s going to be okay.” He kissed my hair and stroked matted tangles free from the damp tresses.

I barked out an incredulous laugh. “Okay? I am so far from okay right now, I don’t even remember what okay feels like.”

He pressed his face against my neck. “I can’t tell you how sorry I am. I can’t…I can’t…Why the hell did you stay? You shouldn’t have stayed to see this.”

“I don’t know. I couldn’t leave.” I clutched him a little tighter. “Don’t make me leave.”

“Never.” He drew his knuckles down my cheek. “Tell me what to do. I’ll do it. I swear. Just tell me how to make this better.”

“It’s already done.” I rested against him, limp and defeated. The only thing left to do now was for me to adjust and accept. Since not doing so didn’t seem to be an option without losing him completely, I closed my eyes and burrowed close.

I had stuck around to help keep him together, but there we were, and he was the one preventing me from falling apart. The irony wasn’t lost on me.

He tucked his face into my hair and sniffled. “I thought I loved you enough that my feelings could protect you,” he confessed, his voice ragged and hoarse. “I thought I could keep you from being hurt. Damn it, I was so sure I could spit in her face and end it for good. I was so stupid and cocky. And you got hurt because of it.”

“No.” I smoothed my hand down his arm. “You did protect me. You kept her from contacting Jeremy. You saved me.”