The Tornado Page 14

  I sighed quietly. "He knows," I said softly. "I told him."

  "Oh, honey," my mother said emotionally.

  "It's okay, Ma," I said gently. "He was really understanding, really nice about it. And he’s been so good to me."

  My mother nodded and patted me again, tears glistening in her eyes. I knew my attack had hurt both of my parents to their cores, possibly more than it had hurt me, if it was possible. I realized it had to be excruciatingly painful for a parent to have to witness their child being brutalized in that manner and be completely helpless to it. I knew that it had been an enormous struggle for them to watch as I had healed physically, but not emotionally.

  My father had been the one to pull the plug in New York. ‘I needed a change of scenery,’ he had said. And we had family in Pittsburgh. My parents had been ecstatic when I'd seemed like I was coming around after the move, perking up and coming back to life. But I knew they still had their moments, usually in private and not around me. At this stage, seeing my mother still so hurt and upset by what had happened, hurt me more than thinking about the actual attack itself. I grabbed a couple of plates for dessert and leaned in to kiss my mother on the cheek before heading back into the dining room.

  We sat around for another hour, chatting and laughing, drinking the wine Asher had brought, until it was time to leave.

  After helping my mother pack some food for Asher, I went back into the living room. Asher was nowhere to be found, and neither were my sisters. I was immediately suspicious, and was contemplating going after them when they reappeared. I wasn't sure what had happened, but when they returned, Alexis and Rachael were smiling innocently and Asher just looked amused. I narrowed my eyes but didn't say anything. Instead, I handed him a huge bag stuffed with food. His eyes widened.

  "It's all for you," I said with a smile. "Pasta, sauce, antipasti, caprese salad, deli meat, half a loaf of Italian bread. Enough food for a week."

  "Wow," he said, taking the bag. "Thanks."

  I gathered up my food and stood behind my sisters near the door. "What was that all about?" I asked my sisters quietly, narrowing my eyes.

  "Nothing you need to be worried about," Alexis said, smiling at me.

  "We just had a little chat with your boyfriend," Rachael added. "You know, just a friendly conversation."

  "He's not my boyfriend," I replied automatically. "What did you say to him?"

  "Juliet, stop worrying, for Christ's sake," Alexis said, kissing me on the forehead. "He's a good guy. We like him."

  "Really?" I asked, although I'd already known that. I glanced at Rachael.

  "Yes, baby sister," Rachael said, kissing my cheek. "We like him. We're just looking out for you, kid. We love you, okay?"

  I hoped that Asher wasn't standing right behind me, listening to this conversation. I glanced over my shoulder and didn't see him in the immediate area, and turned, seeing him talking to my father in the dining room. I headed toward them, catching the tail-end of their conversation.

  "...good man. I like you. You're welcome in my house anytime."

  "Thank you, sir," Asher was saying, shaking my father's hand. My father leaned in, keeping Asher's hand clasped in his.

  "But if you ever hurt my daughter, in any way, I got a rifle and a shovel. No one will miss you that much. We clear?"

  "Yes, sir," Asher replied immediately, unfazed. "Crystal clear, sir."

  "Good." He clapped Asher on the shoulder and spotted me just outside the door. "Ah, my sweet girl. I was just telling Asher here how much I like him and that he's welcome back anytime."

  "Every Sunday," my mother's voice called back from the kitchen.

  I laughed and reached out to hug and kiss my father. "That's good to know. Hopefully none of you scared him off. Hopefully we didn't scare him off," I amended.

  "Not in the least," Asher said, smiling at me.

  "Goodbye, Asher," Alexis called over her shoulder. "Don't forget what we said!"

  "Never will," Asher called back. "Nice to see you again."

  "Take care," Rachael said brightly. "We'll see you soon!"

  "The words are friendly, but it always sounds so threatening," I mused.

  "Good to meet you, man," Vinnie said, offering Asher his hand. "I'll take you up on the gym offer. I wanna be as big as you are." I rolled my eyes at my brother-in-law, again, and sighed.

  "Absolutely, anytime," Asher replied. He shook hands with Ryan and then offered his hand to Uncle Gino. "Nice meeting you, sir."

  "Yes," Uncle Gino said, shaking his hand in return. "You take care of my niece. Or it's your ass." He gripped onto Asher's hand for an extended beat, then let go with a nod.

  "Yes, sir," Asher answered.

  "Okay, bye, Uncle Gino," I said hurriedly before any more threats against Asher's life were made. "Bye, Daddy. Bye, Ma. Thanks for dinner. I'll see you tomorrow." I gave my uncle and my parents quick kisses goodbye and then turned to Asher. "Ready?" I asked.

  "If you are," he replied. He followed me out the door and across the courtyard. I heaved an enormous sigh of relief, glad the first meeting was over. It would be much less tense and more easy-going next time. If there's a next time, I thought, thinking again of my behavior from the night before.

  "You did well," I said, and he smiled.

  "You have a great family," he said. "I like them all. Your mom reminds me a lot of my mom."

  "What did my sisters say to you?" I asked, and he laughed again.

  "They shoved me into the bathroom and told me that if I ever hurt you, they'd cut my balls off." He smirked. "Your father threatened me with a rifle and shovel." He nudged me in the ribs. "You must be pretty special if your entire family is threatening to end my life."

  "That's just how they are," I said. "But they do mean it."

  "Oh, I know that," he said with a nod. "That was obvious."

  Asher walked me up to my apartment. I glanced at him. He really did seem to be perfectly at ease and I got the impression he really had enjoyed meeting my family, death threats aside. When we reached my door, I faced him.

  "Listen, about last night," I began awkwardly and waved him off when he started to protest. "I really want you to know how sorry I am for acting like that, and how much I appreciate...well…" I paused. "A lot of guys in your position might not have been as...nice and...and...gentlemanly as you were. And although it doesn't seem like it, on account of the throwing of the alarm clock and everything, I thank you for that."

  Asher shrugged. "It just wouldn't have been right," he said simply.

  I could feel the heat rise in my cheeks. "I-I just don't want you to think that, like..." I sighed in frustration. "…That I'm the type of girl that..."

  He leaned down to look directly into my eyes. "I know exactly what kind of girl you are," he said quietly. "You never have to worry how I see you." He smirked a little. "And, now I know. Never, ever let you drink hard alcohol." His eyes twinkled. "Well, maybe not never..." I groaned and shoved his shoulder. "Be careful with me," he warned. "I'm stuffed to the brim and I could explode all over you."

  "That would be disgusting," I said, smiling.

  “Very disgusting.” He held my gaze for a beat. "Well," he said lightly, "I better get home. I need to digest this food before I go to sleep and I've got to get up early tomorrow."

  "Training?"

  "Of course. Then work." He hefted the sack with his leftovers. "Thank your mom for this again for me. And thank you for inviting me to dinner."

  "I didn't," I reminded him, grinning. "My sister did. And it wasn't so much an invite as it was a threat."

  "You're right about that, silly me," he said with a chuckle. Our eyes met again and he smiled. "Sweet dreams, Nutcracker."

  "Sweet dreams."

  I slipped my arms around his waist to give him a light hug, feeling his free arm slip around me, his hand settling at the small of my back as he held me against him. Then, I lifted my face to kiss his cheek. Sensing my face moving closer to his, he turned his head
quickly toward mine to look at me, and my lips ended up lightly bumping against the corner of his lower lip. I pulled my head back slightly, color flaming in my cheeks.

  "Sorry," I mumbled.

  Shit, fuck, dammit.

  His head was still turned toward mine and he hadn't pulled away. Our eyes met for a long moment, his pewter-blue eyes narrowing slightly as they moved over my face. I swallowed hard, wondering if I'd just accidentally made an enormous mistake. But then Asher leaned in slightly, his eyes dropping to my mouth, and a spark of excitement struck me low in my tummy.

  I jumped when I felt his nose brush against the side of mine, and then hovered his lips near my mouth, asking a silent question as his eyes met mine once again. Anxiety threatened to tear me to pieces, but I fought it back and tilted my head slightly, brushing my lips lightly against his. It wasn't a kiss, but it was my form of granting him permission.

  He held my gaze. “I’ve wanted to kiss you since the moment I saw you, Jewel.” I heard him pull in a breath before I felt the earth-shattering warmth and sensation of his lips pressing into mine. A spike of nervousness stormed through me, and I wanted to freeze, but instead, I tentatively returned his kiss, allowing my eyes to close. It was all the encouragement he needed. One hand swept up my arm to slide under my hair and gently squeeze the back of my neck.

  I felt like I was going to burst into flames. His lips were unbelievably soft, and their fullness added a completely different sensation to my mouth than anything I could ever have imagined. I stood very still and soaked in the hot chills bathing me, and the smooth satiny feeling of his lips encompassing mine. The feeling of his rough, calloused hand and thumb lightly stroking the smooth skin of the back of my neck, cheek, and jaw, alternating with gentle squeezes, made me instantly breathless. The warmth of his breath flowing through his nose, tickled my cheek gently.

  How could I have ever felt the claws of panic at something so beautiful?

  The lines of worry and uncertainty, creased into my brow, smoothed out as I relaxed completely into him. I realized my arm was still around his waist and that I'd unconsciously begun to stroke his back. I parted my lips ever so slightly and followed the movement of his, feeling him out in a sweetly innocent curious way, letting his mouth do most of the work. It was my first kiss in over a year, and the first kiss I'd ever really wanted in a terribly long time. I felt rusty, nervous...but eager.

  His lips moved over mine languidly, sweetly, as though he had all the time in the world. I liked that he didn't plunge in tongue-first; he was much more sensual than that. He never deviated from his slow, easy pace, and I found myself starting to get swept away on a wave of ecstasy. I found my lips beginning to return his kisses a little too quickly, too eagerly, as if they unconsciously wanted to keep time with my racing pulse. But he didn't let me. His lips kept it slow and sweet, and he pressed my back into the door, his thumb stroking my jaw gently.

  I was starting to get curious about his tongue, wondering if he was going to try to use it, and decided that if he did, I might be okay with it. I wondered what it tasted like; if it would be smooth or rough, and was thinking that maybe I might let mine slip forward, just the tip to brush over his lip and see if it encouraged him further. But then he pulled away from me slowly with a gentle smack of his lips.

  His fingers slid to my chin and his thumb smoothed over it as his eyes moved over my face. I found I couldn't look away from his lips, not caring if my want was plain on my face. I felt fairly certain I could have stood here with him against my door for the rest of my life, relishing in the feeling of his lips moving softly over mine.

  “Do you want to come in?” I asked with a ragged breath.

  He shut his eyes tightly then, and sighed. Did I say something wrong? When he opened his eyes again, our eyes locked. I saw desire mixed with pain and frustration brewing inside of his.

  A shiver shot down my spine when his dimples came out with the most perfect smile. “Jewel. When you beg me, like you did last night, I promise, I’m gonna make it a night you’ll never forget. But I want to take this slow with you. I don’t want you to regret anything.”

  His thumb moved to gently stroke over my dimple before he dropped his hand away. He reached into his pockets and drew out my keys and held them out to me. “Sweet dreams,” he said hoarsely. I took them and allowed my fingers to linger against his.

  "Sweet dreams," I echoed softly, then turned to open the door to my apartment. Listening to his footsteps slowly retreat down the hall as I locked my door, realization dawned on me.

  I wanted nothing more than to beg again.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Her

  I STRETCHED OUT on the wooden spring floor in the dance studio. I loved it here at night, when I could see all the city lights. It was in these moments that I missed New York.

  I crawled toward the window to continue my floor stretches, my legs splaying wide as I leaned forward, my flexibility allowing me to rest my stomach flat on the floor. I leaned my elbows on the bottom of the window, peering out. I watched and listened to the torrential downpour of rain, and thunder and lightning breaking overhead.

  I wondered if I had the strength to go back to New York for the trial. I hated feeling like a victim; hated my anxiety, my depression. Hated that it had made me harm myself and feel like I couldn't deal with life at all. Hated that it made me withdraw into a shell of my former, vibrant self. Hated that I didn't know how to move past it fully. What was an appropriate length of time to get over being brutally raped and almost murdered? How long was it supposed to take until I could get over the deep, horrible ache of knowing I'd never be able to have children of my own?

  Idly I reached over and drew my fingers over my ankle, over the tightly tied ribbons of my pointed shoes. It was the ankle that I sometimes used to take my inner abuse out on, the one that Asher had seen. Since that night, I'd made good on my promise and not harmed myself anywhere. As my fingers smoothed over the satiny ribbon, I realized that it had been that long simply because I hadn't felt the need to do it.

  Asher seeing some of my cuts and scars had been a blessing in disguise. Previously it had been my secret shame, one that I carried with me all day, every day. I knew that even if I recovered emotionally, a part of me would always want to hurt myself when my emotions went ‘dark side.’ But I knew I had to begin to develop the strength to move past that. Asher had made me feel like I had a chance at least. Because disappointing people I never wanted to disappoint, would be far, far worse than any emotional trauma I could suffer.

  I’d let my mind wander and forgotten why I was here, late at night. My stomach twisted in fear at the idea of performing in front of God only knew how many people.

  I went through the dance once to go through all of the choreography, piecing it together. Once the errors were ironed out, I went over the dance again, envisioning the movements in my mind as well as watching them reflected back at me. Then, I did the entire dance in my pointe shoes, and then again in my dance footies.

  After that, I hesitated, torn. I loved dancing en pointe, had always loved it. And in fact, I had shown such dedication and skill in my early years as a dancer, that I had begun training en pointe at the age of nine, as opposed to twelve like many girls. But somehow, the dance became more emotionally raw, more visceral, in the casual footies. They were like flesh-toned fingerless gloves for my feet. They gave me the appearance of dancing barefoot, and for the emotion of my movements, I knew I'd have to use the footies for my performance.

  As I caught my breath, sweating, my hands on my hips, I began to wonder exactly what else I would wear for my performance. I hadn't performed in such an incredibly long time.

  I went over the dance one last time, and I performed it perfectly. The dance was good; I was proud of it. I owed Ruby so much for forcing my hand. It was the best dance piece I had ever created, and that sudden knowledge and belief flooded through me and filled me with pride. I started to cry then. Uncontrollably.

 
I was baring my soul, releasing my turmoil.

  Baring my wounds.

  I stared at myself in the mirror, stared into my own dark eyes. I watched myself frown, and the tears streaming down my face. My eyes slid slower down my reflection, stopping at all the ‘hot spots’ on my body that carried my scars. An idea for a costume captured my mind then, and I realized it was the only costume I could have ever worn for this song and this dance.

  My heart skipped a beat when lightning flashed outside and I noticed movement in the corner of my eye. Someone’s reflection was in the mirror.

  Asher.

  He was standing outside in the storm. He was drenched. But he didn’t seem to care. He was just watching me. Like he had done before.

  Abruptly, I turned on my heel and watched him enter the studio. He was soaking wet. I could hear raindrops fall from him and echo against the flooring. He didn’t say anything. Just kept right on walking toward me with set determination in his eyes.

  When he reached me, there was a crisp, clean smell about him. I lifted my eyes to his and saw that he was watching my face closely. I swallowed. Hard. He was so close to me when he whispered hoarsely, “It’s been three days since I tasted you and I can’t wait anymore, Jewel. You’re so fucking beautiful when you dance.” My heart was already thudding, but when Asher's lips landed on mine, it kicked into overdrive.

  I had to grip on the back of his neck for balance, it was so intense. He pulled my hand around his back while his free hand slid up my hip to the small of my back, pressing me closer against him. I felt his lips part slightly and close briefly around my bottom lip, pulling at it. I ran my hand up his heavily muscled back and wrapped my arm around his neck. I let his tongue sweep past my lips as he brushed it against my bottom lip. I felt both of his hands tighten on my waist when I slipped my tongue out and stroked his. He let out a low groan and my synapses exploded at the sound and sensations I was feeling. Just the slight touch of him made my head swim.

  My fingers gripped the hair at the back of his neck and I pulled myself impossibly closer, now intent on nothing else but feeling his tongue against mine again. He slid one hand under my hair to grip the base of my skull. It almost felt like he was massaging it and it felt like bliss.