“Bellamy”—Olivia sighed—“please don’t start something. Not today.”
Ignoring her stepmother’s plea, she kept her gaze fixed on Steven. “What’s wrong with you? When you were younger, you were sensitive to other people’s feelings.”
“I grew up.”
“No, you grew mean. Snide and scornful and mean-spirited like the people you once despised.” She shook her head with perplexity. “I don’t understand you. I truly don’t.”
“I never asked you to.”
“But I want to.” She reached for his hand. “Steven,” she said with appeal, “I’ve always thought of you as a blood brother. I love you. I want you to love me.”
“We’re no longer children.” He pulled his hand away from hers. “It’s time you grew up, too, and realized that life rarely gives us what we want.”
She searched his eyes, saw how untouchable his heart seemed, and in that moment, she pitied him. Physically he was beautiful, but he was emotionally deformed. The effects of Susan’s abuse had taken a tragic toll on his life.
But by refusing to let it go, he had prevented himself from healing. He’d let his hatred and resentment fester until he’d become critical, cynical, and slow to forgive. He had a mother who loved him with all her heart. He was adored by a patient and devoted partner whose love was visible in every gesture, grand or small. But Steven kept a part of himself separate even from them. He refused to wholly accept their love and to give his in return.
That, Bellamy realized, was the real tragedy.
Chapter 27
The sun had set and dusk had settled in. The Corvette’s headlights were on when Dent steered it into a parking space, but Bellamy remained unseen until he started up the metal staircase. When he saw her sitting on the landing, he paused for several seconds, then continued climbing the stairs in a steady tread.
He’d hooked his suit jacket on his index finger and was carrying it slung over his shoulder. His necktie had been undone and was lying flat against his chest.
She stood, dusted off her seat, and retrieved her high heels, which had become so uncomfortable she’d taken them off. He didn’t say anything as he stepped around her and continued down the breezeway toward his apartment.
She fell into step behind him. “I hope you don’t mind that I waited for you to get home. I didn’t know when you’d show up. Or if you would come home at all tonight.”
He unlocked the door and went into the apartment. She hesitated on the threshold. “May I come in?”
“Door’s open.” He pitched his key ring onto the coffee table, tossed his jacket over the back of a chair, and followed that with his necktie.
She stepped inside and closed the door. “I don’t think you’re in the mood for anything elaborate, so I’ll keep it simple. I’m sorry.”
He went into the kitchen and took a bottle of water from the refrigerator. “Sorry for what?”
“For not calling you about Daddy. Honestly, I wasn’t sure how you’d react to a call from me about anything. I’d said some harsh things to you.” When he didn’t say anything, she forged ahead. “I also apologize for not standing up for you at the club. I was… My only defense is that I was in shock.”
“Don’t worry about it. I’m not.” He twisted the cap off the water bottle and took a drink. “That it?”
“Are you all right?”
“Why wouldn’t I be?”
“You were awfully angry when you left the country club.”
“Not for long. I blew off some steam.”
“What did you do?”
“Went flying.”
“I see.”
“I doubt it.”
The rebuke was succinct, but well aimed. She lowered her head and looked at the pair of designer pumps she was holding in her hands. She studied the black grosgrain ribbon across the toe. They were beautiful shoes, but they pinched. Why was it that she was drawn to things that were bad for her or that hurt?
“Moody showed up,” she said. “I spoke to him just before I saw you. He said—”
He interrupted her. “I don’t want to know what he said. I don’t care what he said. I’m done talking about him or anything related to that subject.” He looked her over from the top of her head to her bare feet. “If you want to take off your clothes and give me a lap dance, you can stay. If not, go back to the bosom of your rotten family and leave me the hell alone.” He gave her about half a second to make up her mind, and when she didn’t move, he snuffled. “I didn’t think so. Don’t let the door hit you on your way out.”
Moving back into the living area, he picked up the TV remote. “Maybe I can catch the last few innings of the double-header I missed by going to your old man’s send-off.”
His rejection, coming so closely on the heels of Steven’s, was crushing. A sob erupted from her as she turned and walked toward the door.
But before she could get it open, he was there, cursing under his breath, turning her to face him. He flattened his hands on the door, caging her between it and him, and pressed his forehead against hers. “That was a terrible thing to say.”
“I guess I had it coming.”
“No, it was a low blow. It was cruel. Because I know how much you loved him, how sad you are.”
“When we’re angry, we say things we don’t mean. You’re angry.”
“As hell.” He released a long breath and rolled his forehead from side to side over hers. “I don’t know how you do it, Bellamy Lyston Price.”
“Do what?”
“Make me so damn mad.” He moved in closer. “And still keep me wanting you.”
“Do you?”
“It’s killing me.”
He pulled away a few inches. She looked up into his eyes. He couldn’t have mistaken her yearning when she focused on his mouth. But after having been turned down so many times, he wasn’t going to initiate anything. What happened next would be up to her.
She whispered, “I’m afraid.”
“Of disappointing me?”
She nodded.
“Not gonna happen.”
This was what she’d come here for. Yes, she’d wanted to apologize, but what she wanted most was to be with Dent. While pitying Steven for refusing the love that was readily, unselfishly given to him, it had occurred to her that she had done the same. She hadn’t allowed herself to love or to be loved.
Safe was a terribly lonely way to live.
She dropped her shoes to the floor and gingerly placed her hands on his chest. For a long time, they stood like that, neither moving. Then she undid a button on his shirt. After the first one, the others weren’t quite so intimidating.
When she spread his shirt open, her desire was greater than her apprehension. She leaned in. His chest hair was soft against her face. It tickled her nose. She pressed a dry kiss on him, then opened her mouth. His skin was warm and slightly salty tasting.
He made a low sound, curved his hand beneath her jaw, and tilted her face up to his. His mouth was possessive and hungry, and the longer they kissed the more urgent the kisses became. His arms closed around her, bringing her up against him, and when she answered the pressure he applied with a corresponding grinding motion, he swore softly and broke the kiss to turn her to face away from him.
After gathering her hair in his hand and draping it over her shoulder, he unhooked the clasp at the top of her dress, then slowly pulled the zipper down past her waist. He slid his hands inside and settled them on her hips, pulling her back against him, and situating her bottom firmly against his erection.
Her breath soughed out as she weakly propped herself against the door.
He planted a tender kiss on the nape of her neck then sucked the skin against his teeth. Slowly his hands scaled up over her ribs to her bra strap. He undid it, then for agonizing seconds did nothing more.