Within These Walls Page 15

  “Would you like me to kiss you again, Lailah?”

  “Yes,” I answered, the soft sound coming out more like a plea.

  “Here?”

  The pad of his thumb caressed the sensitive pink flesh of my lower lip as he hovered above me. He didn’t wait for an answer, and his mouth descended upon mine. Soft and gentle, he kissed me with aching tenderness that made my heart leap. His arms moved to cradle my body, and he pulled me closer. Then, I felt the warmth of his hand move to my neck.

  “How about here?” he murmured against the hollow of my throat.

  Rather than answer, I turned my head, exposing more skin. His head moved downward, and his tongue licked a scorching path across my ivory flesh. As his hand neared the hem of my shirt, my breath caught, and his fingers halted.

  His eyes met mine. “You just tensed up. Did I make you uncomfortable?”

  I shook my head, but my dismissal of the situation didn’t go unnoticed.

  He quickly sat up. “Lailah,” he pleaded, “talk to me.”

  I rubbed my hands together, avoiding his gaze. “I’m severely scarred,” I finally admitted.

  Will he look at me differently now that he knows?

  I was different though. He’d always known that.

  But now that he knew I have physical proof, will it change how he looks at me? Will there be pity in his eyes or sorrow in the way he views my situation?

  I’d seen the sad, empathetic looks from everyone else since the day I was born. I’d gotten the shoulder pats and stray tears from those who thought I’d been given the short end at life.

  Will he join them once he sees the jagged scar running down my chest?

  When he didn’t respond, I gathered the courage for a brief glance at him, and I was met with a penetrating warm gaze.

  “We all have scars, Lailah. Some are just more visible than others.”

  “What are your scars, Jude?” I asked, surprised and scared by my own words.

  His eyes unfocused for a brief moment as if he’d lost focus with reality. When he finally snapped back, he gave a faint smile. “I’m hiding in plain sight, remember? I’m the estranged heir to a multibillion-dollar fortune. Can’t get much more scarred than that.”

  My eyes wandered over his inked forearms. The swirling black patterns seemed to have no direction, no purpose. They just meandered down his arms without end.

  Did he really ink his skin and change his appearance to disappear from society? Or was he trying to disappear from himself?

  “Will you show me?” he asked hesitantly, his voice cutting through my thoughts like a knife.

  My hands went to the lower hem of my T-shirt, and I took a deep breath of air, squeezing my eyes shut. I never wore a button-down or a V-neck, so in order to show him, I had to show him all of me.

  Warm hands covered mine, and I opened my eyes to find his milky-green irises.

  “Let me help you.” His fingers grazed my sides as he took the fabric in his hands before lifting my shirt over my head.

  My heart beat faster, and I took several slow breaths to steady it. As soon as the fabric cleared my head, I instinctually moved to cover the pink line between my breasts that I’d had since birth. The same scar had been enlarged and modified with each surgery, growing along with me as I aged.

  “Don’t cover yourself,” Jude said softly, pulling my hands away from my body. “You’re beautiful.”

  His eyes were everywhere, and that astonished me. When I was shirtless, my scar always took center stage. It screamed for attention. Even medically trained doctors were drawn to it.

  The moment Jude’s eyes fell on my half-naked body, he saw me, just me. He didn’t see my scar or a broken girl with no hope for the future. He saw me, and in his eyes, I saw passion and heat, no sorrow or pity.

  “You’re beautiful,” he repeated, tracing his fingers over the pink skin.

  My eyes fluttered close, and I moaned when his tongue traced the edge of my bra, leaving a wet trail across my breast and up to my mouth. Our legs and bodies quickly intertwined as our kiss intensified. His tongue tangled with mine, over and over, as I moved against him. I felt him harden against me, and rather than blush, I kissed him again, finally understanding what it felt like to use this womanly body I’d been given. His wandering touch slowed, and his frenzied kiss began to fade until he pulled back entirely.

  “We need to slow down,” he said, smoothing back a few wild wisps of my hair, as he gently smiled down at me.

  I nodded, dodging his green gaze, as I searched for my shirt.

  “Lailah, look at me.”

  I didn’t. I just continued my hunt until gentle fingers turned my head.

  “What did I say? Tell me what I did wrong.”

  “Would you have stopped if I were anyone else, Jude?” I asked, folding my hands over my plain white cotton bra. It was the same boring bra my mom had been buying for me since I was thirteen.

  “Why would you ask me that?”

  “I don’t want to be treated any differently,” I spit, finally finding my T-shirt wadded up near my feet.

  I bent over to pick it up, but Jude stopped me midway.

  “Well, deal with it,” he bit back. “I will treat you differently, not because of your heart problem or the fact that you think you’re physically fragile or weak. I’ll treat you differently because you’re different to me. You matter to me. I will not take your virginity in some random hospital when you’re still recovering from a virus that nearly killed you. You deserve a hell of a lot better than that. So, yeah, I’ll continue to treat you differently because I think you are worthy of more.”

  “I-I’m sorry,” I said, stumbling over my words. “I thought—”

  “You assumed I stopped because I thought you were so innocent and fragile? The girl writhing and moaning underneath me was neither of those things. I want you, Lailah. I want all of you in every way, but it won’t be here, not like this. I want you slow and tender, fast and hard, and everything in between. When we come together, it will be miles from this place, and I will spend hours helping you cross out that number on your list,” he said with a wink.

  I opened my mouth to chastise him, but he spoke before I had the chance, “I know it’s got to be on there somewhere.”

  “It is,” I answered. “Number one hundred and twenty-one.”

  He smiled and bent down to brush a kiss across my lips.

  “So, not number one then?” He reached back to grab my shirt and handed it to me.

  “Nope.”

  “What could be better than sex?” he joked, the little dimple on his cheek reappearing as he watched the soft cotton fabric float back over my skin.

  “Hmm…I don’t know. Guess you’ll just have to find out.”

  I want all of you in every way.

  Jude’s heated words had continued to play through my mind well after he’d left, and they had been with me again as I rose the next morning.

  Slow and tender…fast and hard.

  I’d been a mindless, drooling puddle ever since. I couldn’t even remember what I’d eaten for breakfast. I’d been staring at the same blank page of my journal for well over an hour when my mother waltzed through the door.

  “You’re here early,” I said, noting her dressed-down appearance. She was in jeans and a flowery blouse. It was different from the business-casual look she would wear when teaching.

  “I canceled my classes today,” she said with a flick of her hand as she settled into the worn blue chair.

  “You canceled your classes?” I repeated, tilting my head in shocked surprise.

  Unless I was going into surgery or there was an emergency, my mom never canceled class. Her students must be rejoicing today.

  “Yes, I wanted to speak to you—alone,” she answered, giving the last word specific emphasis.

  “I see.”

  Here it comes.

  “I did a bit of research on your friend Jude,” she began.

  “You did re
search, Mom?” I asked, holding up my hand to silence her.

  “I Googled him.”

  A small snort morphed into full-out laughter, and I wrapped my arms around my sides in an attempt to control the roaring inferno. “You…used Google?”

  My mom was a teacher, a professor, but she hadn’t quite graduated to the twenty-first century. She carried a cell phone for emergencies. It flipped open and had exactly three numbers programmed into it—the hospital, our home, and Dr. Marcus. The laptop I owned had been given to her by a colleague when he decided to upgrade. My mom had taken one look at the thing and cringed. She used a desktop computer at work and considered it punishment.

  According to my mother, all research should be done in a library. Google was for morons and perverts. The fact that she’d used it to look up Jude meant she was flustered and seriously frustrated.

  “Yes, I was curious about the boy you’ve been spending so much time with.”

  “Mom, he’s twenty-five. He’s hardly a boy.”

  She ignored my comment and continued to watch me from her tattered blue throne. “Do you think he’ll take care of you? Is that what this is all about? He’s wealthy and powerful, so you think he’ll protect you?”

  I stared at her, my mouth agape, before I let the shock wear off. “Is that what you think of me? What you think of him?”

  “I don’t know him,” she answered.

  “No, but you know me. Do you think I’d do that? Hand myself over on a silver platter?” I spit.

  “I did,” she said softly.

  “What?”

  “Men promise all sorts of things when they want something, especially when it involves a woman. Your father was no different.”

  My breath hitched when I heard her mention him. In my twenty-two years on this earth, she’d only ever spoken about him a handful of times. She never brought him up herself, and she always quickly dismissed the subject of him. The majority of what I knew about the man were small things I’d learned from medical records.

  “From the moment we met, I was completely infatuated with him. He made me feel reckless with his constant pursuit. He promised me the moon and the stars, and I believed every word. He said he’d always protect me, but when I became pregnant, he vanished, just like his false promises.”

  “Mom…” I started, my voice hoarse from the unshed tears I was holding back for the pain my mother had suffered. “Not all men are like my father.” I realized then that even after that heartfelt story, she still hadn’t revealed his name to me. The only father I knew was faceless and without a name.

  “How can you be so sure?” she asked, leaning forward to take my hand in her own.

  “I don’t think anyone can be. But isn’t that what life is all about? Taking a risk on something? Someone? Jude is a wonderful person, Mom—a very poor, penniless person,” I added.

  Her eyes went wide. “But I thought…he looks so much like…” she stammered.

  “He is. That is him. Your Google skills are fine. It’s a long story and one you should probably ask him yourself, but just know that I don’t expect anything from him, and he doesn’t expect anything in return. I know this is stressful for you. I understand that I’m disrupting your sense of control, but please, Mom, let me take this risk, let me love someone.”

  She nodded, rising from her seat to join me on the bed. I willingly let her pull me into her arms, loving the way I still fit into her small frame. She was controlling and overbearing at times, but she was my mom. She was my home, and everything she’d done since the moment I came screaming into this world had been because she loved me.

  “Just be careful, my little angel.”

  I smiled against her chest, remembering how Jude had called me that same sweet thing mere hours earlier. Mom had named me Lailah after the Hebrew angel of pregnancy. When she’d discovered my heart defect during a routine ultrasound, she’d wanted to give me a name that was strong and hopeful. She might not be a religious person, but I thought it was somehow her way of asking for a bit of help to whoever might be listening.

  “I will, Mom, I promise.”

  She gave me a small squeeze, and I closed my eyes, knowing I’d lied to my mother.

  There was nothing careful about falling in love.

  IT HAD BEEN a little over a week since that horrible day Lailah’s fever nearly took her from this world. A fever was so simple for most but extremely deadly for her. It was no wonder her mother had become so controlling regarding every minute detail of Lailah’s life. Her mother had gone over the deep end to ensure Lailah’s safety, but standing on the opposite side of parenthood, I would wager a mother would do anything and everything to keep her child from dying even if it meant keeping the child from living a normal life.

  For the most part, life at the hospital had returned to normal. After my forced few days of vacation, I had been allowed to return to work after I’d shown no symptoms of Lailah’s virus, and then Lailah and I had fallen back into our late-night pudding visits. The only difference was the addition of my off-hour daytime drop-ins. A one-hour lunch break wasn’t enough anymore, and I didn’t have an endless bank account to fall back on. I needed my job. Now, more than ever, the hospital had become my home. I would be here morning, noon, and night, only running home to shower, crash for sleep, and plan.

  I was always planning.

  Movie night hadn’t been the only trick up my sleeve. Since that night, I’d managed to pull off a few other place holders in hopes of making Lailah’s prison sentence a bit more palatable.

  We’d had an ice cream parlor one afternoon where I’d brought in ten different flavors of ice cream. We’d proceeded to make a sundae worthy of the cheesy name I’d created for my fictional ice cream endeavor.

  “A Dude Named Jude’s Ice Cream Parlor?” she’d asked with a snarky grin.

  “Hey, it took me a really long time to think that up. I lost precious hours of sleep.”

  “It’s cute.”

  “You mean, it’s sexy,” I said with a waggle of my eyebrows as I scooped mint chocolate chip onto a cone.

  “Mmm…yes, that, too.”

  I’d managed to keep her laughing all afternoon while I served up ice cream cones to the entire staff who managed to find their way to the ice cream without any directions or invitations. Lailah was ecstatic for the commotion and welcomed everyone, talking to doctors and nurses for hours as I played host.

  Who knew Jude, the loner, could be so charismatic?

  She’d brought that back—the old, lighter version of myself, the part I’d thought died when I watched Megan take her last breath.

  I still visited the hallway. It wasn’t often, but I’d been down there briefly—hovering and waiting…for something. For what, I didn’t know.

  Am I waiting for a divine sign from my fiancée, telling me everything is as it should be? To hear her voice saying it’s okay to love again?

  Fuck, I don’t know.

  I still felt the pull between my old life and the new one that seemed to be surfacing, but the guilt was shifting. When I walked the hallway and sat on my bench, looking at the closed door that had belonged to Megan for a brief few days, I would feel guilty for being there, for not sharing this part of myself with a woman who I was supposed to love.

  When you love someone, you tell her everything, including the fact that you love her.

  But I hadn’t had the courage to do so.

  It was still there, on the tip of my tongue.

  I’d had so many opportunities over the last few days, yet as I lay in bed, holding her in my arms, I knew I’d let the moments slip by like dust in the wind. Each time I had, I would picture myself back in that lonely hallway, and I hated it. I hated that I was still stuck when everything that lay ahead of me appeared so crystal clear, yet felt so damn murky.

  The ice cream parlor had been such a huge success that I’d waltzed into the hospital today, ready for another one. It was my first day off after six nights straight. After a brief s
top at a nearby strip mall, I’d arrived just a few hours before lunch, ready to spend the entire day with her.

  “You want another one?” She placed her latest paperback down on the bed as she swung her feet over the side.

  Her toes dangled in the air, and I caught a flash of lavender nail polish glinting off her big toe. She watched me drop the white paper bag near her bed, but she didn’t say anything.

  “Yep, hit me,” I answered with a grin.

  She looked up at me, her hands resting close to her knees, as her feet continued swaying back and forth.

  She’s so damn cute.

  “Okay, number forty-three—dance in the rain.” Her eyes sparkled with unshed laughter.

  “You want a place holder for that?” I asked in genuine shocked.

  “Yep. I mean, you brought an entire ice cream parlor, complete with sprinkles and cherries, here yesterday. How hard can a little rain be?” She threw in a flirty wink at the end just to spite me.

  My nervous babbling girl had quickly transformed into a quick-witted temptress, and I liked it.

  “You couldn’t have picked something easier? No, you had to go with rain—in the hospital,” I added.

  “Well,” she started, drawing out the word with her melodic voice, “if it’s too hard—”

  I didn’t even let her finish. I just stepped forward, closing the small gap between us, and I grabbed her hand. Her eyes widened, and laughter came bursting out of her.

  “What are you doing?” she yelped.

  I briskly walked us into the bathroom. “Making it rain,” I answered.

  I kicked off my shoes and pulled out my cell phone and keys, remembering I still had yet to reveal the contents of what lay hidden in the mystery bag I’d brought.

  I mentally shrugged. That can wait. It’s time for some waterworks.

  I turned toward her, and she had this what-did-I-get-myself-into look.

  I smirked and lunged, hauling us both into the shower. I reached for the handle and turned. Cold water immediately fell onto our heads from the showerhead above.