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Searching for Always(32)

By:Jennifer Probst


His speech was thorough and honest, and it broke her heart. Because beyond all that analysis was a little boy who’d never forgiven himself for not being enough. Her intrigue deepened when she realized how much more lurked beneath the surface.

What really freaked her out was how she suddenly wanted to find out.

“You nailed your anger issues and current occupation choice,” she finally answered. “And though my heart breaks for the little boy you were, I’ve heard a bunch of horror stories that ended up far worse than yours. But it’s not your mother you’re still mourning, is it?”

His fingers clenched around the wheel. A dangerous cloud settled over him, holding a tinge of violence Arilyn bet would always be a part of who he was. “What are you talking about?”

Her instincts screamed for her to back off. He wasn’t ready for a bigger truth. And, dear God, neither was she. “Nothing,” she said lightly. They were almost there, and she had a sudden urge to jump out of the car before anything more passed between them. Arilyn had learned that a physical connection was difficult to fight, but an emotional one would destroy them both. “Oh, there’s a spot.”

He remained silent, maybe sifting through her odd answer to his speech. She regretted diving in when neither of them was ready. He pulled into the parking space and turned to face her.

“Thanks so much for the lift, I appreciate it,” she said. “See you tomorrow.”

Her hand never reached the latch.

He moved so deadly fast, she didn’t even sense his movement. His fingers closed around her wrist, holding firm. The controlled grip did something weird to her belly, as if she was helpless under his command.

“Not yet.”

She refused to look at him, keeping her head down. “Umm, I’ll take a rain check, I really have to go.”

“I’ll be quick. Look at me.”

His voice deepened, slowed. An explosion of heat and want slithered in her blood. She turned and met his gaze.

Lust.

No. Not possible.

She caught her breath at the naked desire on his face, in his eyes, as he looked at her. For a second she was caught up in a tidal wave of pure feeling, her usual logic and calm, serene thoughts like a crystal lake suddenly turning into a tsunami of choppy waves and tidal flooding. Her body shook in response to the primitive male need in his eyes. This was nothing but pure hunger at its elemental level.

“You promised an answer to one question.”

Arilyn managed a nod. The words were stuck at the back of her throat, trapped there under his blistering male power.

“What’s his name?”

She blinked. Her voice came out rusty. “Whose?”

“The man who fucked you up. The man who broke your heart. The man who pretended to transcend the physical and lied. Give me a name.”

She opened her mouth to tell him to go to hell. He’d tricked her with his own Jedi mind tricks, forcing her to give up the most private, vulnerable part of her soul. Her friends and family barely knew his name. How he knew a man had done something to her was beyond her understanding, but somehow she realized he had the same type of instinct that she did, and she had walked right into his trap.

She almost jerked herself out of his grip and left without another word. Until his voice softened and he spoke so gently, she felt wrapped up in a cocoon of protection and warmth. “Tell me, little one.”

His endearment touched something deep inside, a yearning of such vastness she fought the trembling that wracked her body. If he had kept pushing, she could’ve fought him. But his tenderness broke her resolve.

“Jacob.”

She didn’t wait for a response. She yanked free of his grip, dove for the handle, and stumbled out of the car.

Arilyn refused to look back, but she already knew it was too late. Like a wizard casting a spell and obtaining a lock of hair, Stone now held her rare secret. With information came great power. The only way out was to make sure she obtained more on him to balance the scales. She ignored the flicker of guilt about violating her ethical responsibility as a counselor and reminded herself it was a good thing to probe Stone’s past. For his own good.

Not hers.

She headed past the Swan Pastry shop, walked into Ray’s Billiards, and found Poppy waiting for her. The place had stained, worn carpet, four pool tables, a full bar, and wood-paneled walls filled with weird mirrors and classic art like dogs playing cards. Straight from the seventies, Ray’s catered to the hard-core crowd that came to gamble, downed shots of whiskey, and smelled of smoke and must. Cigars? They’d gotten busted for not adhering to the no-smoking laws, and her neighbor Mrs. Blackfire called the cops on them weekly. The fines must be in the double digits now, yet Ray stayed open every day.