Page 31

T he shower should have calmed something inside of me.

Hell, fucking her like an animal in the dining room should have done that.

But neither sated me. I was a fucking monster.

Stalker.

Liar.

Possessive piece of shit.

This woman was mine, but before I told her that, I needed some answers.

She shivered, so I stopped by my dresser and pulled one of my clean undershirts over her head.

Then I walked to the bed, pulling her with me. I nudged her so she would climb inside and without me asking her to, she moved over to give me space.

Good girl.

Clementine was so quiet. I never saw her like this, and it struck a chord deep inside of me.

She turned on her side, facing me, and tucking her hands beneath her cheek like a child might do to sleep.

I mimicked her pose, staring into those twin emerald pools, wondering if I’d drown in them. It was time to talk.

“Who’s Andrew?” I whispered, hating how pathetic I sounded.

She inhaled slowly, and I watched an emotion, sadness, flit across her face.

“Andrew was a friend in high school,” she said softly.

“A friend?”

“Yes. But first I want to tell you about my mom.”

“Your mom?”

“So you’ll understand,” she said.

I nodded, not comprehending the connection. But if Clementine was willing to talk, I was sure going to listen. Curiosity about this beautiful creature burned inside of me like an undying light.

“My mom is amazing. She met my Pop when she was a teenager, but something happened, and she ran from him and her stepfather. While they were separated, she started working for a shelter for people who needed help. She has people running it for her now, but she is still involved.”

“Mm. She is a good woman.”

“The best. And Pop is crazy about her. When I was a kid, she got sick. Cervical cancer,” she whispered.

“I’m so sorry,” I whispered, just letting her talk.

“It was rough for a little while and I was scared, we all were. But seeing them, watching their love get stronger was really a privilege.”

I’d never experienced or witnessed that in my own life. Trying to imagine how young Clementine felt was difficult, but I tried.

Most of what I’d learned about this woman was from sneaking and stealing it from her. Having her talk to me was different. It was incredible.

I increased the pressure of my hand on her back and hoped she would continue. Pleased as fuck when she did.

“I, uh, some bad stuff happened while Pop was preoccupied, I was okay. And he came through in the end. But the point I’m making is, in my world, husbands and wives, parents, well, they do anything for their family.”

“I think that’s a good perspective to have, my sweet Darlin’. Not everyone is lucky like that.”

“No? What about your family?” she asked, lifting her green gaze, curiosity showing on her face.

I sighed.

“My father was a piece of shit.”

“Oh no. I am so sorry. Was he violent?”

I nodded, and her face contorted with sadness.

“It’s alright. I survived. Got my mother and sister safe,” I said, dropping a kiss on her forehead.

“I’m sure it wasn’t easy, Connor, and I am sorry. Children shouldn’t have to do that.”

I was lost for words. No one had ever said anything like that to me before. I didn’t know if I was getting soft or what, but it touched me she cared.

“My father was nothing but kind and generous, protective, too. The best thing I think he showed any of his daughters was that a man should love his wife and his family unashamedly.”

“That’s a good thing, too, Darlin’,” I whispered, choked up at the image she painted so easily.

Was it wrong to want that, too? Was I even worthy to dream of such a thing?

“Pop actually bought the shelter where Mom worked for her and helped implement all her ideas on his own until more and more people got involved. I feel very strongly about that,” she said.

“About people getting involved?” I asked, unsure where this was going.

“Yeah. So, six months ago I told my father my plans and, well, he was upset at first, but he accepted my letter of resignation and he’s been very supportive.”

“So, you’re saying what? You are leaving Sigma to work at a shelter?”

“No, I am leaving Sigma International to open a shelter.”

“For women? Like your mother?” I asked.

Clementine sniffed and shook her head, sending damp russet curls cascading down her back.

Goddamn.

She was so damn beautiful it hurt me to look at her. That under used muscle inside my chest started to pound.

I wasn’t a man who led with his heart. In fact, there’d been a time when I wondered if I’d even had one.

But staring into Clementine’s pretty green eyes, kissing her soft pale skin, well, that did something to me. It set fires inside me, and not little bonfires, but blazing infernos that melted the icy wall I’d built around my emotions.

She was everything good and sweet and right with this world, and I was a man unused to sweetness.

She didn’t deserve the way I’d treated her before. I needed to do better by her, but I wasn’t sure how. What fucking experience did I have with this sort of thing?

I was forty-two years old. Jaded. Set in my ways. But in all my years I never had what I’d consider a woman of my own. No girlfriend or serious relationship.

I’d fucked women. Plenty of women. But I never cared about them.

Not like I cared about Clementine. This woman had gotten past all my defenses. She was inside of me now. I held a piece of her in my very soul and I planned on keeping her right there.

But I’d been brutish. I’d fucked up.

The idea that my behavior would send my little Darlin’ running made my lungs seize and my heart stutter.

I couldn’t allow that to happen. I clenched my fists, forcing myself to release them when her gaze flicked to where I held them tight to my body.

Stop fucking this up , I told myself.

Maybe listening to her now, instead of jumping to conclusions, would be a good start?

“No. For anyone who needs it because women and children aren't the only ones to suffer,” she whispered.

My heart squeezed.

I was right before.

My little Darlin’ is so damn good.

I didn’t deserve her.

One thing I knew for certain, I wasn’t worthy of this creature. But I was equally sure I couldn’t let her go.

Not now. Not ever.

“There was a boy in my high school, very wealthy, but shy. His father was a foreign diplomat, untouchable. I met him once or twice and all I remembered about him was that the man never smiled. Not when he met me and not when he looked at his son, Andrew. I knew he was strict, though. Very strict,” she whispered.

“Andrew was your friend,” I repeated her earlier statement, and I felt like an even bigger piece of shit than I already had for making assumptions.

“Yes, but I wasn’t a good friend.”

“Clementine,” I chided.

“No, just listen,” she said, and her voice had gotten all thick as tears rolled down her face.

I felt so helpless. I was the one hurting her, bringing all this up. But my burning curiosity wouldn’t let me make her stop.

Besides, I’d read somewhere confessions were good for the soul.

If my sweet Darlin’ had something plaguing her mind and heart, I wanted to be the one to hear it.

I wanted to be there for her like she deserved.