Silent Scars (Surviving #4) (12 page)

“So do you have a girlfriend, Ryan?” Aloura asked from her perch on the counter. She had asked me to make some
real
s’mores. So after a little shopping trip, we were geared up for hot soup and corn bread with s’mores for desert. She was sitting on the counter with her legs crossed watching everything I did. She only relaxed when I said morning and asked if we were heading out for our run. Maybe it was some residual effect of her sleepwalking.

“If I did, I’m pretty sure I would have been kicked out on my ass by now.”

She tilted her head to the side. Aloura was
definitely
all woman, but sometimes she had these cute mannerisms that made her appear so young and innocent.

“Why would you say that?”

My arm shot out to block her swift hands, but the marshmallow was already in her mouth. She lifted her hands above her head and wiggled her ass against the counter in some fucked up victory dance. I said fucked up because when her body moved, parts of mine responded, and now definitely was not the time for my broken dick to make an appearance.

“Thief,” I grumbled, before placing the last of the fluffy marshmallows in the dish. I decided making her a pan of s’mores would be better than trying to toast them over the gas ring.

“I have ninja moves, Mr Senior. You could learn a thing or two.” Yep, there went my dick again. I needed to tell her to stop calling me that. It was like Viagra to my cock. “Girlfriend...continue.” She motioned with her hand. I ignored the fact she spoke around a mouthful of sweet goodness, and I pushed away the fact I was desperate to know if she tasted as sweet. I certainly ignored the fact she had sugar powder around her ruby red lips that I ached to lick off.

“I haven’t had a girlfriend for a long time.” I snorted remembering the bitch I last dated.

“How long?”

I grumbled, and she grinned, licking her fingers.

One. By. One.

Fuck me.

“I think I was fifteen or sixteen. Around that age anyway.” I turned to put the pan in the oven as she sucked in a breath and started choking. Quickly, I placed the pan on the counter and headed over to her. I patted her back and watched her face. She put her hand on my bicep and the other on her chest. She coughed a few more times before she caught her breath.

“Are you trying to kill me? You haven’t had a girlfriend since you were a teenager?” Her eyes narrowed at me. “Why?”

Checking her over to make sure she wasn’t going to choke anymore, I stepped away. I lifted my shoulders in a shrug. “Not much point to it.”

“Not much...are you a man-whore, Mr Senior?”

It was my turn to splutter out a shocked response. “No, Aloura. I am definitely not. And my name is
Dermont
.”

“You don’t like that name, and Senior suits you better. Do not change the subject. I refuse to believe you haven’t had any – oh my gosh, do you have a harem like Harry?”

I spluttered, seriously; she was going to kill me. And it would look a total accident if someone choked on their own tongue.

“Ugh...he dips his wick in anything with boobs,” she continued like I wasn’t on the verge of a coronary.

“His wick?”

“At least he’s young and relatively good looking. But how do you perform mattress acrobatics with a new person each night?”

I was getting whiplash with this conversation. Her statements were so sporadic it was like she was talking to herself aloud.

“I doubt he’s performing – wait are you implying I’m old
and
ugly?” I had no idea why that statement bothered me. I never cared what women thought. I paid them for a service, not to ogle my appearance.

“What? No. I meant he’s not like you. You seem the type to be settled with someone, kids the doting wife, maybe a puppy or two. You have this caveman quality about you.”

“You’re saying I'm a neanderthal?”

“The way you’re taking everything out of context I’m beginning to think so, yes.” She mock scowled before her face brightened into the most stunning grin. “Personally even though Harry has a lot of bed partners, I think he’s lonely.” She shrugged her dainty shoulders. “Why else would he spend so much time with me?”

“He’s waiting
for
you,” I muttered. I busied myself over the stove, stirring the soup. It was on the tip of my tongue to tell her that any man would be a fool not to fall for her. And I would bet my left nut Harry was hot for her. The way he touched her, the familiar way he slid his body against hers. It was more than a dance. He was staking a claim. I tightened my hold around the handle.

“I’m nothing like you imagine, Aloura.” My words were like dying ash in my mouth. They were true. But not at all what I wished were true. Deep in the pit of my soul, the very core of me, I had hoped I could have what my brothers had. A woman I could trust, love, and be open with. I wanted to watch her stomach grow with our child, to see that baby grow into a strong, caring man or woman. I wanted it all, but wanting and deserving were two very different things.

“I can’t remember the last time I had a satisfying date.” She sighed, her gaze fixed on me, and I had the inkling she had randomly chose that statement to pull me out of my slump. It was like she could sense I was slipping away.

I gripped the ladle so tight my palm started stinging when her words sunk through the fog in my brain.

Fuck.

What the hell was a
satisfying date?
Did that account to multiple screaming orgasms? Did she fuck on the first date? I fisted my hand at my side, hating the surge of jealousy at the pricks that got to touch her. I at least recognised I would never be worthy of someone like her, but clearly there were bastards out there that were delusional and would leave her
unsatisfied
.

Closing my eyes tightly, I clenched my jaw.

“For example,” she said in a silvery tone. “My last date was so boring I feigned food poisoning and left after the first course.”

Warm relief spread through me, and I turned to glance at her over my shoulder. She lifted her gaze from my ass and blushed. Well, that was
satisfying.
I pulled my attention from her and back to the soup to hide my grin.

“That’s not so bad.”

“No? How about he didn’t like being ditched and tried suing the restaurant for my poisoning and I had to admit I lied? He even brought a bottle for me to do a stool sample, so he had evidence. Or that said date is usually at functions Dad insists I attend, and he makes snide remarks
every time.
Or that he’s now engaged to the friend that originally set us up, who doesn’t talk to me anymore. I am the social outcast of the elite. And by elite, I mean I’m the daughter of business mogul Doctor Graham Cavendish, and no one even wants to attempt to date me even for my money. One bloke once said he thought my dad would shit gold, and even he wasn’t interested.”

She placed her hand over her eyes and sighed dramatically before lying back on the counter. Her position didn’t look at all comfortable, but she was so dextrous, a part of me wanted to find out what other positions I could get her body into. Would her ankles go behind her head while I slid my aching cock inside her. “I thought you abandoned your date?”

“Hmm?” She uncovered her eyes and turned her head to glance at me.

“Food poisoning.”

“Oh, yeah. Well, they weren’t all boring. Some I really liked but
they
just didn’t like me enough to warrant anything more than a quick fumble.” Her voice turned brittle.

“If they didn’t see you, Aloura, they don’t deserve you.”

She laughed, a bitter sound so at odds with her light personality. “You sound like my dad. Okay, enough of this self-pitying rubbish. I want to know why you haven’t dated since you were a teen. I believe it’s a lie by the way.” She smiled, but it was forced. Her head was tilted my way, but she still lay across the counter. Her hands were folded over her stomach, her legs crossed and tucked close to her body.

“Not much to tell really.” I ducked my chin and stirred the overly worked soup. The poor thing was probably inedible now. The buzzer sounded for the timer. I relished the distraction of taking the corn bread out of the oven. I didn’t turn it off. I would need it for when we finished the soup to bake the s’mores.

“Okay.” Her voice was so soft I knew she wanted more but wouldn’t push. How the hell was this woman crawling under my skin, infiltrating barriers I had never let anyone through? Will wasn’t aware, and I didn't think Jo understood what had happened with Chrissie. I poured us some soup, cut the bread, and placed it on the other end of the counter. I sat on a stool and waited for Aloura to climb down and join me. As soon as she moved, Hercules stood from his spot on the couch and wagged his tail.

“No. Stay,” I commanded. He cowered and gave me a ridiculous wide eyed pout, as if that would change my mind. But I wouldn’t because Aloura fed the damn dog as we ate. He lay back down and propped his head on the arm of the couch. I refused to feel guilty.

“Ooh, this smells divine. You have plenty of time to tell me about your lack of a dating past.” She smiled, and this time it was a real one. She tore a slice of bread in half and dipped it into her soup. When she parted her lips, placed the chunk in her mouth, and closed her eyes, I stopped breathing. When she moaned, I needed something,
anything
to distract me.

“She was paid to date me.” My words burst from me like a cannon.

Her eyes snapped open, and she stopped chewing. Her lashes fluttered like a butterfly’s wings as she blinked repeatedly.

“What?” She covered her mouth.

I dropped my spoon into the bowl and scrubbed my hands over my face. This was why having a dick gets you into all kinds of shit. You’re brain stops working when a gorgeous woman moans.

“Like you, I came from money. Like a shit load. My mom was the sole heiress to an oil baron’s fortune. My dad, also came from a wealthy family, but nowhere near the money Mom’s family had. Dad married Mom not long after my grandfather died. Do I believe he married her for her money? Yes, because he was an unfeeling bastard who was born without a fucking heart.”

“Ryan.” Aloura’s sweet voice and gentle hand over mine stopped the tirade I was about to unleash. Her brown eyes held a note of understanding

“I’ve never been good at trusting people, and the one person I did was my high school girlfriend. I thought we were moving to a more...I don’t know...loving stage, and I confided in her, and she betrayed me. Turns out Dad was paying her to fuck with me.”

Aloura was silent, but the tight squeeze on my hand gave me a sign she was listening. I expected a barrage of questions. But the glistening tears in her eyes and silent understanding confused me. And scared me. Why wasn’t she hounding for more? Wanting me to bleed the truth?

“She never deserved the honour of your trust.”

“Why the fuck did I start this?”I yanked my hand away and stood. I paced in front of the counter.

“I won’t force you to keep going. Stop, if you want.”

“What, my past is too fucked up for you to stomach?” I snapped.

“Not at all. The agony of you reliving it is incredibly painful to watch. I refuse to force that on you. If you want to stop, we close the issue.”

“Why?”

“Why, what?”

“Why wouldn’t you push? Isn’t that what women want, for us guys to pour our hearts out? Watch us suffer while you analyse the crap out of us?” Her tinkling laughter caused a red haze to cover my vision. “Am I a joke to you? You think this is funny?” I snarled. My voice was like ice, cold and deadly. Many a man had cowered to it.

“Contrary to what you believe, Ryan, not everyone is out to hurt you. If I could enter your mind and claw out those memories, I would. If I could give you a memory of a first love to rival a Jane Eyre novel, I would. Would I laugh at your pain? Never. Now sit your arse down, finish your soup. If you want to tell me about a bitch from your past, continue. If not, fine. I have plenty of stories to fill the void.” She picked up a hunk of bread and bit into it, all the time grinning at me.

For a moment all I could do was stare at her. Was this woman real? Or something my mind had created, another fucked up way to break me down. Keeping my gaze on the enigma before me, I seated myself on the stool and watched her eat. The slight tremble in her hands indicated she wasn’t as confident as she tried to make out. But a sick twisted part of me liked that she didn’t fall apart.