"No, I'm just always speculating which Paige I'll get." He comes around to sit on the other end of the sofa. I'm disappointed he doesn't sit next to me. Right now I could use more of his touches. But disappointment turns into pleasure as he pulls my feet into his lap and rubs them. The ache from the heels I'd been wearing all night fades away as his big hands engulf my feet and ease the pain.
I take another sip of the vodka, enjoying the massage. I lie there and let him rub me, and a comfortable silence falls on us. I shoot back the rest of the alcohol and set down the empty glass on the table next to me. With only that little bit of vodka, I feel warmth flowing through me. It relaxes me and helps me to forget.
I want to forget seeing my father. To forget how easily I'd frozen up when I was around him. It only further shows me how unprepared I am to see him. How can I seek revenge on a man I can't even speak two words to?
"How many of me are there?" I tease, trying to make light of Ryan's words.
"The one you pretend to be and the one you really are."
I lean back, folding my arms over my chest. His words sink home. I wonder if everyone can see through me so easily. Maybe it's the vodka, or maybe I want to know, but I ignore his words and go for something else.
"You think you want me." It's not a question, because I already know the answer. The kiss we shared said it all.
"Think?" His fingers dig deeper into my foot, making me moan at the pleasure. His hands still for a second, and I look at his face. He takes a deep breath, like he's trying to get himself under control, before he goes back to rubbing. Jesus, he's good at that.
I want to tell him all the reasons we'd never work. That he's too good for me. That there is too much of my father inside me. I can feel it. Where else did I get these dark thoughts from? What kind of girl wants to kill her own father? What kind of girl stands by and watches her mother die?
He would never do those things. Captain would have saved the day. Maybe he could save me. The warm buzz of the alcohol pushes me on. I slip my feet from his lap, and he reluctantly lets them go. I start to crawl toward him, and he doesn't move as I work my way to him and into his lap. I press my face against his neck, breathing in his scent of rosewood, and his arms wrap around me. Only holding me. I can't remember anyone doing this, not even my own mother
"Did you know I remember everything?" I tell him a secret few people know about me.
"What do you mean by everything?" His hand on my back moves in slow circles. It's a lazy rhythm that makes my eyes fall closed, and I melt into him.
"Everything." I feel him pause for a moment before he starts rubbing again. "The first time I saw you, you had on dark blue slacks, a white button-up shirt. Your tie was long gone and the top two buttons were undone. When you'd turn a certain way, those damn muscles of yours would flex and strain under your shirt. I would get a glimpse of the tattoos, trying to peek out your sleeves. I spent so many nights wondering what they looked like after that first day. How they would trace up your arms." My fingers are tracing them on his right arm now. I don't have to look to know I'm tracing them perfectly. I keep my eyes closed, my face buried in his neck, breathing him in. I want to smell his scent forever. It's somehow comforting. "It took time before I got to see them all, but I only needed one look. Now I'll always know their exact pattern. Sometimes late at night I trace them on my own arm."
"Paige." He says my name softly, but it vibrates through his body and into mine, making me smile. I brush my nose against his neck, then place a soft kiss there. He stills once again. I love how I can do that to him with one little touch.
It feels empowering, and after what happened tonight, I revel in it. I felt so powerless in front of my father. I thought after all these years I'd have been better prepared. No longer that scared little girl.
"That's one of the good things about remembering everything," I tell him, placing another kiss on his neck. "The bad part is sometimes you want to forget something you've seen, but time can't lessen the pain because you keep seeing it. The memory never fades."
"Oh, kitten." He squeezes me hard, like he's trying to take some of those bad things away. I wonder if he knows what he's doing. If he hadn't come in here tonight, I'd probably be in my bed replaying memory after memory of things I didn't want to recall, but right now all I can think about is his arms wrapped around me. The smell of him invading me. And the little taste I have of him on my lips.
Then, without warning, he's standing with me still in his arms and carrying me down the hallway into my room. He places me on my feet next to my bed, and then he untucks his dress shirt and unbuttons it. I can't help but watch each button pop, revealing more of his skin. His broad, hard chest comes into view, and I can only stare, stunned at the perfection. As I'm frozen in place, he goes for my dress, unzipping the side and easily slipping it off over my head. Never taking his eyes from my face, he drops it to the floor and opens his own shirt, then puts it on me. He covers my naked body and does up all the buttons, while the whole time I watch as he cares for me.