Without thinking, I launch myself at him.
I grab him, pull his head down, force his lips onto mine.
And I kiss him.
I kiss him for a few seconds, and I’m not sure he’s going to respond until—
He parts his lips and sweeps his tongue into my mouth.
This isn’t our first kiss. We both know what to expect.
Angry passion.
Leif Ramsey is the perfect outlet for my angry passion.
I stalk forward, pushing him up against the wall next to my door, and I force him to deepen the kiss.
Until—
He breaks away, turns me around quickly until my back is against the wall, and his blue eyes stare into me.
“Don’t,” he growls. “Don’t do this unless you’re willing to go all the way.”
“Just kiss me. Kiss me again,” I grit out.
“I’ll kiss you, Kelly. I want to kiss you. I want to do a lot more than kiss you, and I think you know that. So this is your get-out-of-jail-free card. Tell me to leave now, and I will.”
I open my mouth.
I open my mouth to yell at him. Tell him to get out. Tell him I’m not ready for this, which I’m not.
But all that comes out is—
“Don’t leave.”
He looks down at me, cups my cheek. His touch singes me.
“You sure? Are you totally fucking sure? Because if I kiss you again, we both know what’s going to happen.”
“I’m sure.”
He takes both my cheeks in his hands—holds my face—and grips my gaze for what seems like an eternity.
Just when I’m about ready to yell at him to kiss me—
“I’m not. I’m not sure at all.” He lets me go and steps toward the door.
“Don’t go,” I say. “Please. I need this.”
“You don’t need this,” he says. “And I am not a this for someone to need. I take my job protecting you seriously, Kelly, and we both know I won’t be doing my job if I allow this to happen.”
I drop my gaze to his jeans. His bulge is apparent. My God, he must be huge.
And for the first time in—ever?—I want that part of a man inside me. I feel empty and aching.
“Leif…”
He raises his eyebrows. “Is that the first time you’ve called me by my name? No. It’s the second.”
“Is it? I… I don’t know.”
“That’s just it. You don’t know. You don’t know me. And I don’t know you. We have a pretty good idea of what each other’s lives have been like up until now, but that isn’t enough.”
“You’re telling me you’ve never gone to bed with a woman without knowing who she is?” I scoff.
“I’m not saying that at all. What I am saying is that you’re under my protection, and if I allow this to happen, I won’t be doing my job.”
He’s right, of course. I understand what his job is. I know I’m a mess. I know how I feel on the inside, and it’s not always how I project myself on the outside. I strike first. I strike hard. To avoid being hurt myself.
When in reality?
I’m aching. Aching on the inside and on the outside for something more. For a friend. For a companion.
For a lover.
And Leif Ramsey, damn him, is so fucking gorgeous. I don’t even like blond men, but he looks like he walked off a Viking ship.
I nod, then. Bite my lower lip. “I understand.”
I expect him to leave then, so when he steps toward me and cups my cheek again, I drop my jaw.
“Am I finally seeing the real Kelly?”
I close my mouth. Is he? Am I allowing him to see what’s on the inside?
“Sometimes I’m not sure who the real Kelly is,” I say.
“I don’t believe that for a minute.” He trails his finger from my cheek over my still bare shoulder. “I think the real Kelly isn’t the harsh woman you like to portray to others. I think somewhere underneath that hard exterior is someone who’s soft and gentle. Or at least was once.”
Is he correct?
Was I ever soft and gentle?
I suppose I was. I suppose I wanted to be. I still want to be. I’m just afraid that if I let my guard down, I’ll get hurt again.
Because I always get hurt.
“So tell me,” he says. “Am I right?”
“You don’t know what it’s been like,” I say.
“Right. I don’t. Only you know your own story, Kelly. If you want to talk, I’m happy to listen.”
“I would like to talk.”
“You can talk to Macy. Or Aspen. Or to Zee. I know either of them would be happy to talk with you.”
“What if I want to talk to you?”
“I’m here. For whatever you need.”
“Whatever I need?”
He nods.
“I need you to kiss me again.”
He steps backward then, rakes his fingers through his thick blond hair. “I’m not made of steel, you know. You know how beautiful you are, Kelly. Why do you insist on teasing me like this?”
“I’m not teasing you.”
“Hell, yeah, you are. You know I can’t go to bed with you. My job is to protect you, not to get involved with you sexually. Yet you insist on…” He shakes his head. “Good night.”
This time he does leave.
He opens the door and closes it behind him.
I go to the door and slink down against it, until I’m sitting, my back against the hard door.
I’m throbbing all over, and my flesh is hot, and then cold, and then hot again.
My lips still sting from his kiss, and my cheek burns from his touch.
And that volleyball surrounded by roses on my shoulder?
It’s burning into my skin, like a brand.
And I remember.
I remember why it’s there.
* * *
I cry myself to sleep that night. My birthday. My tenth birthday.
My mother destroyed my volleyball—the only thing I ever bought with my own money. I scraped together pennies and nickels, dug out the money buried underneath the couch cushions, saved money on the rare occasion that my mother gave me a few coins. And sometimes, when my mother wasn’t home, I went to the neighboring houses, asked if I could do any chores for money.
More often than not, I was told no, but an elderly couple who lived a few houses down took pity on me and always let me come in and vacuum or dust for a dollar or two.
I’ll buy another volleyball.
But I’ll hide it. Because if my mother finds that, she’ll destroy it like she did the first.
And then…
I will get out of this house as soon as I can.
* * *
Once I turned eighteen, my mother kicked me out anyway. She actually helped me with that last promise.
By the time my eleventh birthday rolled around, I had enough money to buy a new volleyball, which I stored at one of my friends’ houses.
My mother never knew I had it.
Still, that didn’t keep her from making my life miserable. By the time I was fourteen, she didn’t lock me in the closet anymore. She didn’t hit me anymore. I was as big as she was at that point, and because of all the volleyball and other sports I played at school and afterwards, I was more muscular than she was.
Many times I dreamed of pounding her into a pulp.
But I didn’t.
Part of her still had power over me. The power of motherhood. I wanted her love so badly that I allowed her the power long after I should have ended it.
I’ll never forgive her for that.
I don’t even know if she’s still alive.
And I don’t care.
Funny. All the rest of the women from the island had people to call—people who were thrilled to find out they were still alive rather than dead as they all thought.
But not me.
I had no one.
Which is why I’m stuck here, living in the housing provided by the Wolfes. With Leif Ramsey as my personal bodyguard.
I rise then.
And I open the door.