Make Me Forget - Page 15

At the same time, something told her that her hasty decision to avoid Latimer came from the wisdom of a full-grown woman, one with enough experience to know when she was swimming in choppy waters way over her head.

She’d dated quite a bit in San Francisco. She’d put plenty of hard stops on sexual overtures before, and she’d let a few of them unfold naturally when she was interested. It wasn’t because Jacob Latimer had dared to kiss her that she felt the need to run. It was how that kiss had affected her, how it had left her spinning.

That, and the fact that his kiss was so hot and drugging it felt like she’d just participated in something excitingly illicit. When it came to Latimer, she had a feeling that was just the tip of the iceberg.

She mumbled a cursory thanks to the valet when he arrived with her car. It wasn’t until after she’d left the locked-down Lattice compound and was driving down Lakeview Boulevard toward her townhome that she realized she hadn’t tipped the valet.

A jolt of unease went through her and she glanced over at the passenger seat. She couldn’t have tipped him, even if she’d wanted to. She’d left her purse on Latimer’s terrace.

four

A few hours later, Latimer stood alone on the pier, watching the moonlight shimmer in the black water.

Harper McFadden was in Tahoe Shores. She’d just been in his home. Her lips had just been beneath his own, her body molded against him.

Harper.

Here.

Or she had been, anyway. Until he’d given in to an urge that had first germinated and swelled in him as a scrawny, malnourished thirteen-year-old boy. Who knew that an eighty-three-pound kid could have felt so much lust? So much longing? So much need?

Just so much. Period.

He hadn’t known much of anything when it came to feelings twenty years ago. He’d known hunger and fear. And perhaps worry: a chronic, painful anxiety for the other helpless creatures that were forced to depend on a very undependable, violent man. If it weren’t for a few of the dogs and Grandma Rose, he would have run away from his Uncle Emmitt in an instant. They were the only things that kept him tethered to that grimy, threadbare existence. In the case of Grandma Rose, Emmitt would surely have let his mother die from neglect if it weren’t for Jake’s reminders and cautious, subtle urging for visits, food, and money for medical care.

But he had left them all behind that summer of his thirteenth year. He’d abandoned the animals, a few of which had been his only friends. He’d forsaken Grandma Rose. He’d offered his life.

All of it, he’d risked for her.

It’d all come to nothing. She hadn’t kept one of her promises. She hadn’t written, even when he’d written dozens of letters and left various forwarding addresses. Of course, her solemn pledge to convince her parents to allow him to visit her in DC, her insistence that she’d find a way for them to be together again, had never played out. He hadn’t been surprised about the visits. He’d been a hell of a lot more familiar with the cruel realities of life as a kid than Harper had ever been. The suspiciousness and fear he’d witnessed in her parents’ eyes when they’d looked at him as Harper and he clung together on that cot in the tiny Barterton police station had driven that harsh truth home.

Those stupid, humiliating letters. A good majority of them he’d gotten back marked return to sender. Why hadn’t he burned the damn things a long time ago?

So she didn’t even remember him. Well, thank God for that.

But what if she did? What if her lack of recognition had been a performance?

Not a chance, he discounted abruptly. He doubted anyone could fake that blank expression in her eyes when she’d first looked up at him on the beach.

Of course that handful of days and nights hadn’t meant to her what it had to him. She had been a cherished, prized child, adored and protected by her parents. Their time in the West Virginia wilderness together, their desperate flight for their lives, had faded into a dim, distant nightmare once she’d been returned to the haven of her parents’ arms.

He’d faded from her life. Why did that fact hurt, when he wanted so much for it to be true? When he was so relieved that it was true.

He’d last seen her in the courthouse on the day of Emmitt’s sentencing. She’d walked away within the anxious circle of her parents’ arms, Harper looking over her shoulder while her parents urged her forward. Away from the nightmare . . .

She’d walked away tonight, too, despite the dazed fascination in her eyes, the yielding he’d felt in her body, the heat in her kiss. It was for the best.

It definitely was for the best. Why did he have to keep repeating that fact to himself?

He knew why.

Because damn, she’d grown up beautiful. Stunning. It didn’t surprise him. She’d been beautiful, even at twelve years old. Her fresh luminosity had undoubtedly been what had first snagged Emmitt Tharp’s dangerous attention. Even though she’d been a year younger than Jacob when they’d first met, she’d begun t

o develop. She’d looked older than him. To skinny little Jake Tharp, she’d been the ideal of perfection. Of cleanliness. Of a beauty so rare, it must by its very nature elude his grimy grasp.

He’d been ridiculously naïve. It was laughable in retrospect.

Still . . . Jacob didn’t even smile as he stared out at the shimmering water. Somehow, seeing Harper McFadden was one of the most sobering things that had happened to him in a long, long time.

Tags: Beth Kery Erotic
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