“Wait,” I said, as Kevin started to climb out of his Prius. “Let’s not go up just yet.” We were in the parking garage of Kevin’s condo, just a few blocks from Michigan Avenue. As parking garages go, it wasn’t bad, but neither was it a particularly comfortable or pleasant destination, which is probably why Kevin looked at me so curiously.
“Are you okay?” He reached over to take my hand. “It’s been one hell of a day.”
“It has,” I said. “Please, can’t we go out?”
“Out?”
“A drive, maybe.” Although honestly, if we were just going to drive I wanted a convertible and some serious speed. “Or the Ledge. Is it open this late?” Despite the crowds, the Ledge at Skydeck was my favorite destination in the city. Even though I knew it was as safe as houses, I still got a rush from standing 103 stories above the city on the clear platform, my mind unable to comprehend how it could be that I wasn’t falling.
Kevin’s expression reflected both concern and bafflement. “Honey, are you okay?”
“No,” I said plaintively. “I haven’t been okay for days.” I’d been pulling it in. Playing the part I was supposed to play because I was the grieving niece. The senator’s daughter. The face of my family in Chicago. I’d made statements to the press twice—albeit coached by my immediate boss who ran Jahn’s PR department—and I’d made it a point to accompany his secretary through the halls of HJH&A for no reason other than to give the employees a sense of continuity. An exercise which was wholly ridiculous since I couldn’t have run Howard Jahn Holdings & Acquisitions if my life depended on it.
Still, I’d played a role and I’d played it well. But now I just needed to breathe.
“Just tell me what you need,” he said.
“I’m trying to tell you.” I could hear the frustration in my voice and tried to rein it in. I reminded myself that Kevin didn’t know me—despite having slept together twice and having my father’s seal of approval. He didn’t know how hard I worked to be the girl that I was. Didn’t know how I always kept a tight check on myself. How could he, when I’d never told him?
But I’d never told Evan, either. And yet he’d understood me. I recalled the feel of his words washing over me, the heat of his body beside me. He’d given me everything I’d needed right then. The heat, the words, the understanding. He’d given me a taste, but damned if I didn’t want the whole meal.
“Hey,” Kevin said, shifting our hands so that he could twine his fingers with mine. “I’m listening.”
I drew in a breath, feeling chastised. Because he was listening. He was trying. And I was sitting there having fantasies that he could read my mind.
“Haven’t you ever felt like everything is too much?” I asked. “Like you keep everything bottled up so tight, but sometimes you have to let off steam. Because if you don’t, you’ll explode, and that would be so much worse.”
“A release valve,” he said, and the band around my chest loosened a bit.
“Yes. Yes, exactly.” I couldn’t quite believe that he got it.
“Honey,” he said, then released my hand so he could stroke my cheek. “Just let me take you inside.”
“I—” I started to argue, but then cut myself off. Because, really, wasn’t this exactly what I wanted? It wasn’t about going dancing, it was about losing control. Hell, it was about relinquishing control.
I closed my eyes, imagining the moment we walked into the apartment. He wouldn’t even shut the door before he’d have me up against the wall, my hands above my head, his body hard against mine. I’d close my eyes, letting the sensations roll over me as he gripped my wrists with one hand, his other hand hard upon my breast. I’d arch into his touch, but not much. He had me trapped there, able to take only what he was willing to give. Lost in sensation, floating away in the decadent arms of surrender until I opened my eyes, so desperate to see the heat reflected back at me that I had no choice.
And when I did, it wasn’t Kevin’s face that I saw—it was Evan’s.
I gasped, my eyes flying open for real this time, and I saw Kevin peering at me, concern cutting across those perfect features.
“Angie? Hey, are you okay?”
I nodded. “Tired. Just tired.”
“All the more reason to go inside.”
Again, I nodded. I didn’t want to talk, didn’t want to think. Guilt and grief were screwing with my head, and I wasn’t at all sure what to do about it.
We took the elevator from the parking level to his eighth floor studio, and as we stepped through the door, I realized I was holding my breath—but whether that was because I was craving or dreading his touch, I really didn’t know.
It didn’t matter though, because all he did was turn around and shut the door. “How does a cup of hot tea sound?” he asked, after he’d locked both dead bolts and put on the chain.
It sounded horrible, but I nodded anyway. Tea sounded soothing. It sounded calm. But I didn’t want calm. I wanted hands on my body. I wanted electricity. I wanted to be consumed in a lightning storm, destroyed by passion. I wanted to get lost in pleasure so intense it burned away everything until I was a blank slate, the horror of the last few days all but forgotten.
But this—I didn’t want this.
More, I didn’t want Kevin.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered.
“Don’t be silly. It’s no trouble.” He started to turn toward the tiny kitchen, but must have seen something in my eyes, because he stopped. “Angie?”
Would everything have changed if he’d kissed me right then? If I’d seen fire brimming in his eyes, would I have stayed? Would I have lost myself in his touch, gotten high on the drug of sex? Would I have let him take me where I wanted to go—and would I have stayed there with him?
I don’t know. I don’t think so. I didn’t doubt that Kevin was a good man, but he wasn’t the man I wanted, and I deserved more than the runner-up. So, for that matter, did Kevin.
“I’m sorry,” I repeated. “I shouldn’t have come here tonight. I shouldn’t have—” I shook my head, as if shaking off the thread of my words. “I am a wreck tonight. But I really just want to be alone.”