Guilty Needs (17 page)

He stripped off the pillow cases, the top sheet, adding them to the box. Reaching under the mattress, he tugged the gathered corner of the bottom sheet. On Alyssa’s side, near the top, he did the same. His fingers brushed against something. His heart skipped a beat as he grabbed it and pulled it out.

Her journal. He knew what it was even before he saw it. There was a box full of them up in the attic and that was one thing he had no idea what to do with. He couldn’t just give her journals away, but throwing them out didn’t seem right. One thing Alyssa had done faithfully was write in it almost every day. Even the day before she died, she’d written something in it. Granted, it took her forever to finish an entry but when he offered to write it down for her, she’d always refused.

He hadn’t ever looked inside them but now, he found himself opening it, staring down at her familiar, flowery-looking script. Time ticked away from him as he read. The first entry was in February, the last one the day before she died. Most of what she wrote had his eyes burning. How she’d been so afraid most days, often angry. But the last few weeks were different. The entries were shorter, not quite as descriptive, but she’d been so weak that he understood why she didn’t go into as much detail.

He reached the last entry, but before he started to read, he closed his eyes and tipped his head back. When he felt a little steadier, he started to read. But three lines in, he wished he hadn’t.

Wished he had just thrown this journal in with the others or even in the garbage.

I got Colby to leave for a little while. Bree’s on her way over and I need some privacy for this. Can’t exactly have him lurking around while I ask this, right? I don’t think he’d understand me telling her that I want her to hook up with him
.

That was all he read.

All he needed to read.

Snapping it closed, he stood up and started for the door, rage churning inside him, a sick sense of betrayal threatening to drive him insane. Bree—

Fuck.

He stopped and looked down at the journal in his hand. Abruptly, he turned and hurled it across the room. It hit the wall and fell to the ground. He almost left it there. Almost. He stormed down the hall, torn between just leaving again and never coming back and finding Bree, demanding that she confess the truth. That the past month had been a fucking lie. She’d slept with him, spent time with him because it had been the final wish her best friend asked of her.

He was going to be sick.

But he stopped in his tracks, turned, went back and got the journal.

He had to see the look on her face when she read it, had to see how she reacted when he asked her to explain what in hell the past month had been about. He’d been falling in love with her.

She was fucking him out of some bizarre loyalty, maybe mixed with a little bit of pity.

What really sucked was that he almost could have handled the pity. He fell in love with a friend, no reason she couldn’t do the same but he knew it wasn’t pity that drove her. How far would she have let it go? How far did her loyalty to Alyssa go?

He didn’t know the answer to that.

But he sure as hell was going to find out.

Sexy dress.

Check.

No panties.

Check.

Hair done.

Check…and she’d actually spent some time on it too.

Makeup.

Check.

Only thing missing was Colby.

Even after an hour had passed and he wasn’t there, she wasn’t worried. If she knew a damn thing about him, he was probably at the house, debating about the proposal he’d mentioned. She basically knew what one was and she also knew that he would drive himself crazy trying to get every last word exactly right. Which meant she just might need to go and get him, otherwise another two hours could pass before he bothered to check the time.

She got her purse, slid her feet into a pair of black heels and headed out. A breeze was blowing and she flushed as it blew the skirt of dress over her bare rump. She wasn’t the type to go without panties and the feel of the air caressing her under the skirt was both discomfiting and erotic.

The drive to the house was quick. His car, that junky looking clunker he had yet to get rid of, was parked in front of the house. It was getting late but the only light on inside the house was the one in his office. With a grin, she shook her head and headed up the stairs. The front door was unlocked. She didn’t bother knocking as she slipped inside and called his name.

No answer.

She frowned, pushed a hand through her hair, unconsciously messing up the style she’d spent nearly forty-five minutes on. Her heels clicked on the floor as she walked to the office. He was in there all right but he wasn’t working. He was sitting at the desk. As she stepped inside, his gaze cut to her, his eyes hard and cold.

“Hey.” Licking her lips, she took a few steps toward him, although something inside her whispered a warning.

He didn’t say anything.

The black slip dress she wore seemed terribly inadequate now. She was cold, goose bumps roughing up her flesh. Her palms had gone damp and automatically, she smoothed them down her skirt. “Something wrong?”

In response, he tossed something he’d been holding onto his desk. Bree frowned, cocking her head. It was a journal, an embossed leather cover…recognition struck. Alyssa’s journal. Bree had seen it at a street fair and bought a couple of them, one for herself, the other for her best friend’s birthday. Bree’s was at home, tucked inside her night stand, a few scattered entries, either from a really bad day when she just needed to vent or cry or rage, or a really good day that she just had to commit to paper.

Alyssa had been almost religious about her journal writing though.

Something cold settled in the pit of her belly as she picked up the journal.

“Interesting read.” He finally spoke but he sounded nothing like himself. Too harsh. Too cold. Too brittle. “The last entry is a real eye-opener.”

Bree tore her gaze from his face and opened the journal. Her fingers felt thick, awkward as she turned the pages, seeking out that last entry. It was dated the day before Alyssa had died.

The pit of her belly dropped as she read the first few lines.

I got Colby to leave for a little while. Bree’s on her way over and I need some privacy for this. Can’t exactly have him lurking around while I ask this, right? I don’t think he’d understand me telling her that I want her to hook up with him
.

“Colby…”

He stood up, stalked around the desk. Instinctively, she backed away, her hand falling to her side, the journal hanging from her fingers.

“So I guess me coming back made it a little easier for you to keep that promise.”

Bree took a breath and said, “Colby, listen.”

He shook his head. “Nothing really to listen to, is there? It’s the truth, right? At first, I had to hear you admit it, but I can tell just by looking at you. So what have I been? Was it all for Alyssa? Did you ever feel a damn thing for me? Did I even rate a pity fuck or was it all for her?”

Colby stood close now, too close. The heat of his fury all but scalded her, yet she was still cold—cold to the core.

“She’s dead, you know. She wouldn’t have known if you kept the promise or not. I’ve gotta admire the loyalty, Bree, but don’t you think you’re taking friendship a little too far?”

Words—damn it, they were lodged in her throat. She could explain this. Hell, she understood why he was so pissed. She would be too. But he had it wrong—damn it, did he have it wrong. She swallowed the knot, tried to speak, even though her vocal cords felt frozen. “Loyalty doesn’t have anything to do with this, Colby.”

“Doesn’t it? Your best friend is worried about her husband, pathetic shy bastard that he is, and she doesn’t want him to be alone. So she just decides you’d make a good match, a nice little sacrificial lamb.”

Narrowing her eyes, she snapped, “I’m not a lamb, pal. Sacrificial or otherwise. And you’re not pathetic. You need to just chill out and listen to me—”

He reached out and hauled her against him, muffling her startled yelp with a hard, cruel kiss. Against her mouth, he rasped, “No, I just need to go ahead and just take whatever in the fuck you’re giving me.”

His hand fisted in her long skirt, jerked it up until he could palm the naked flesh of her ass. His thigh forced its way between hers and despite herself, despite her growing outrage, her body reacted. Heat boiled through her as he rubbed his jeans-clad leg against the mound of her sex.

If he hadn’t said anything—but he did. And probably it was a good thing. His voice was a hard slap, jerking her back to reality, even as he reached between her thighs and cupped her, pushing two fingers into her wet pussy. “You really do commit yourself, don’t you? You don’t just hook up with me, you get wet when I touch you. You come and scream and beg for more. Way to get into it, sugar.”

Recoiling, she tried to pull away from him. He spun them around, trapping her up against his desk. The wood felt cold under her bottom as he lifted her up onto it and stepped between her thighs. Bree shoved her hands against his chest. “Let me go, Colby.”

“Why? Isn’t this what you’re supposed to be doing? Making me feel better? Comforting me? Taking care of me? Whatever in the fuck it was you agreed to?” he snarled, lifting his head just enough to glare down at her.

But when he would have crushed his mouth back to hers, she averted her head. He fisted a hand in the short strands of her hair, forced her mouth back to his. The taste of him, the feel of his body moving against hers—it was almost enough to drown out the voice screeching in the back of her head. Almost. He reached between them, the backs of his fingers brushing against her pussy as he unbuttoned his jeans and dragged the zipper down.

The rasping sound of it was unbelievably harsh—too harsh, too loud. Time slowed to a crawl, each second dragging out and lasting what seemed like forever. The temperature in the room dropped and even with the furnace-like heat his body threw off, Bree was freezing. Something whispered in her ear.

A voice. But it was indistinct, muffled—more like listening to somebody speaking in another room. It was surreal, surreal enough to drag her more completely back to herself and she jerked away as Colby shifted, pushing her thighs wider.

No
.

She swallowed, reached up, unsure whether she was going to shove him away and pull him close. But he already owned so much of her. He had her heart, though she knew she couldn’t ever tell him, not after this. He had her soul. But he’d never believe her.

She’d be damned if she let him claim her self-respect too.

Reaching deep, she found the strength of will to push against his chest as he pressed the head of his cock to the entrance of her body. He slid inside—just the first few inches—and as she locked her arms and shoved, he went still. His eyes glittered at her from under his lashes and somehow, behind the fury, she saw the pain. But she couldn’t give in. If this happened—fuck, she was already destroyed—but if this happened, it was going to destroy him. She could forgive him. He’d never hurt her physically and she loved him enough to let him take whatever he needed from her and she’d give it freely.

But when his fury cooled, even if he still thought she was just acting out Alyssa’s wishes, he’d look back at what had happened and he’d never forgive himself.

“Don’t do this, Colby.”

He reached up, caught one hand, dragged her wrist behind her back and stepped closer, forcing another inch of his rigid penis inside her vagina. Bree lowered her head and closed her eyes as he caught the other wrist. Before he could, she drew her hand down, stiffened it and struck, driving into the vulnerable flesh of his neck. He stumbled back, his face going red as he choked for air. Bree slid off the desk, keeping a wide berth as she circled him.

“Goodbye, Colby.”

On legs that shook, she walked away from him. With hands that shook, she just barely managed to open the door to the house, the car. Climbing inside, she sat there, trembling all over. Tears burned her eyes, blinded her. Harsh sobs escaped her and the rush of blood pounding in her ears left her deaf to anything and everything else.

What had just happened?