Unforgivable Page 14

  Without a word, Mick put his mouth on her. His tongue fit automatically to her clit as his hands went to her hips. Alice put her hands on his headboard, her hips already rocking. The unshaven stubble above his lip and on his chin scratched but oh so fucking deliciously against her flesh as his lips and tongue worked on her. She rode his mouth, giving him no time to pause. No room to speak.

  Only time and space to give her pleasure.

  Earlier, her orgasm had rippled like waves, but this, oh, shit, this time she was going to come like a door slamming. Like a fist punching. This climax rose and rose, ripping and tearing, leaving her breathless. She cried out with it. Not his name, she refused to give him that. A low, wordless gasp, rough and harsh and sharp around the edges.

  Before it had even passed, Alice moved down his body to kiss him hard. Their tongues and teeth fought. He bit her, maybe by accident, maybe on purpose. She couldn’t be sure. Didn’t care. She reared back, her hand moving to slap him before his caught her wrist with a thud of flesh on flesh. She was still moving, belly to belly. His cock, rock hard between them even though he’d already come in her mouth earlier. Mick thrust against her, making her shudder, making her hate him even more that he could cause her to react this way even when he made her so fucking angry.

  He pushed a hand between them, fingers deep inside and curling, making her hips bump forward. She cried out again, meaning to move away from that magic touch but unable to make herself, not when it felt so good. Oh, so good . . . She lifted to let him fuck deeper into her, his thumb on her clit. Harder, harder, she would regret it in the morning when she was sore, but oh fuck, right now she was hurtling toward another orgasm.

  “Fuck me,” she gasped out, biting at the words, hating herself for saying them but not enough to take them back.

  His cock was already nudging her pussy, and at her words he slipped fully inside her. No friction, nothing but sweet, liquid acceptance, her body to his. He moved and she moved, and they moved together like a rolling ocean, like a train on the tracks, like a key in a lock, like they had always been meant to fit together.

  He fucked her fast and hard, both of them shuddering and grunting. When she tried to sit up, he caught her by the wrists and pulled her down to make her kiss him. His tongue fucked her mouth in the same rhythm.

  Everything, fire. Everything, pleasure. Everything . . . love.

  She came, and this time, Alice said his name. Over and over again, until he answered her. They came together and ended up in a quivering, sweaty heap of tangled limbs. When she could focus and move, Alice still stayed where she was, her face pressed to the curve of his neck, even as he softened and slipped out of her. Only then did she get up and go to the bathroom to clean up.

  She would not cry. Would not break. She’d wanted to know how he felt about her. She had no right to complain about the answer, no matter how shitty it had made her feel.

  Back in bed, she dove beneath the blankets to breathe herself to calmness. When Mick slid in next to her and spooned her close, Alice didn’t mold herself to him the way she always had before.

  “I never understood the concept of hate-fucking before,” she told him.

  Mick kissed her shoulder, bare because she’d taken off her shirt and wore only panties. “I don’t want you to hate me, Alice.”

  She didn’t. But this morning she might not even have said she loved him, at least not until he’d said it first. Fortunately, she didn’t have to answer him, because the low buzz of his soft snoring told her he’d fallen asleep.

  She was still awake when the sun peeked through the window, and she got up and gathered her things. Mick didn’t stir when she kissed him. And that was probably for the best, she told herself when she let herself out the front door. That way, she didn’t have to say good-bye.

  Chapter 29

  She didn’t call him on Thursday. Or on Friday. And Mick didn’t call Alice, either, not sure if she wanted to talk to him. Not sure he wanted to hear what she might say.

  On Saturday, he couldn’t hold off any longer. Two days without Alice, he’d discovered, was two days longer than he’d ever wanted to go without her. Still, when she answered, the cool tone of her voice made him want to hang up.

  “Hey,” he said by way of greeting. “What’s up?”

  “I’m doing laundry. You?”

  “Fun Saturday morning. I’m at the grocery store. Want me to get you anything?”

  Alice didn’t laugh. “Chores, everyone has to do them, right? I guess I’d better hit the store later, too.”

  He waited for her to ask him what he was doing later. They’d never made plans in advance, something he’d always thought made them spontaneous but now realized had annoyed her. Contrary, he didn’t want to say anything about it now. It was stupid, and he knew it, but his mouth still wouldn’t make the words.

  “Did you have fun . . . did you do anything fun last night?” Lame ass, Mick told himself.

  Alice waited a moment before saying, “I went out with my sister and some friends. You?”

  “Oh, yeah, got together with some buddies,” Mick lied, sure she’d know right away he was making it all up. “Getting together to watch the game later today. Picking up snacks and stuff. Big game. Gotta get moving.”

  Shit, why had he said that? Now there was no way to ask her to see him later. Idiot.

  “Well,” Alice said in a clipped voice, “sounds like you’re busy. I guess I’ll talk to you later. Call me when you have some time for me.”

  He could’ve asked her to wait, told her he had all the time in the world for her. He could have asked her out for tonight, but Mick hated it when women acted like they were the only ones who got to be upset about stuff. Or that it was only the guy’s responsibility to fix things. His ex Shanna had been like that, always expecting him to read her mind or make things up to her for crimes he hadn’t even known he’d committed.

  Alice was nothing like Shanna.

  And Mick knew it, too, just like he knew she had a right to be upset with him, even if he hadn’t meant to upset her. But there seemed to be no good way to say so now without reminding her they’d had a fight . . . sort of . . . and that it hadn’t been resolved. She’d snuck out in the morning without so much as a kiss, not even a note, and she hadn’t said a goddamn word to him since then, but it was his job to patch things up?

  It had taken him about thirty seconds to think of all that, but thirty seconds is a really long time for silence on a telephone call. The soft huff of her breathing sounded pissed off. Well, guess what, he thought. He was still pissed off, too.

  “Later,” Mick said, and hung up before she could say anything.

  He regretted it immediately. He had no plans for tonight, because he’d assumed he’d be with her. And shit, even if they hadn’t specifically said anything, why shouldn’t she assume the same thing? Why did he have to spell it out for her? If she wanted him to be the guy who showed up for every date with flowers and candy, Mick thought sourly as he passed the chocolate aisle, she had the wrong guy.

  “I should never have to guess how you feel,” she’d said, and remembering that pissed him off all over again.

  How could she even wonder if he thought about her? Fuck, he thought about her all the damn time. She drove him crazy, that’s what Alice did. Distracted him, made it hard to do anything else but think about her.

  How could she not know that?

  Mick flipped open his phone and dialed her number. He was going to lay it all out to her, right there in the kosher foods aisle. He did think about her, he did want to see her, and he did love her. Okay, so it wasn’t easy for him to say things. Most guys were like that, weren’t they? Did she have to expect so much from him?

  Angrily, Mick listened to the ringing of his unanswered call, but hung up before it went to voice mail. He wasn’t about to leave her a message that she could ignore and not answer just to get back at him. That shit wasn’t right, he told himself as he pushed his cart, filling it with stuff
he barely paid attention to. Playing games.

  Fuck that. He wasn’t going to call her again. No matter how much he wanted to talk to her, or see her. Let her come to him, Mick thought bitterly.

  Let her wait.

  Chapter 30

  Alice waited a week before she deleted his name from her instant message list. It had killed her to see him come online every night, same time as always, but never ping her. So had the silence of her phone. But she’d meant what she’d said. No matter how quickly the words had slipped from her lips, they’d been sincere.

  Call me when you have time for me.

  No call. Therefore, no time. It stung, first like a slap and then every day after that with the slow, dull throb and ache of a muscle-deep bruise that refused to heal.

  Another week passed. A third. She gave up believing he’d call her, but not hoping.

  She didn’t speak of it to Jay, who asked only once or twice before wisely choosing to change the subject. Things with him and Paul had been patched up. Jay was happy about it, and if Alice didn’t quite believe Paul wouldn’t end up breaking her friend’s heart, she knew better than to taint Jay with her own bitterness about her situation.

  Wendy hadn’t been quite so understanding.

  “Men,” she said flatly, “are assholes. Why are they such assholes?”

  Alice picked at her salad. No appetite. At least she wasn’t eating her feelings.

  “Hey. Don’t let him do this to you.” Wendy rapped a fingertip on the table to get Alice to look at her.

  Alice shrugged. “He didn’t do anything to me that I didn’t let him do. Things happen. Sometimes the things that burn the brightest also die the fastest.”

  “He said he loved you ‘on some level,’” her sister said with a sneer. “That’s just gross.”

  Her sister’s affront on her behalf made her want to cry. “I don’t know. I guess I’d rather he said that than lied to me about how he felt.”

  “He’s scared.”

  “That’s just what we always say about men when they don’t give us what we want,” Alice said. “It’s a nice way of making ourselves feel superior, or something.”

  “Okay, so he wasn’t scared, he was just a dick!” Wendy said.

  Alice dragged her fork through the pile of unappetizing lettuce and gave her sister a small smile. “I’m trying to be philosophical here, and the best you can come up with is that he’s a dick?”

  “A giant one.” Wendy nodded. “Riddled with oozing sores. No, not a big one. A tiny, teeny weeny blister-covered prick!”

  Alice snorted laughter. After a second or so, the giggles turned to chuckles, and then to guffaws. In another minute, she and Wendy were laughing hard enough to send tears rolling down their cheeks . . . and then she was crying. Sobbing. Alice buried her face in her hands.

  She hadn’t cried at all this entire time, but now the gasping sobs rose up and choked her. The tears seared her, burning. Everything tasted of salt and sorrow, and Alice pressed the heels of her hands to her eyes to stop herself from crying but could not.

  “Thank God you came here for lunch instead of Olive Garden,” she heard Wendy say, and lost it all over again.

  She cried long enough to soak the tablecloth in front of her, and her sister handed her tissue after tissue until finally, Alice was able to stop. Her eyes had swollen so much her sister was nothing more than a blurry lump. Her nose, a running faucet. Even her tongue felt cracked and sore.

  Wendy handed her a wet cloth from the sink and squeezed her shoulder gently. “Feel better?”

  “No.” Alice shook her head as she wiped her face with the cloth. Another surge of tears threatened, like waves of sickness, but she pressed the cool cloth to her face and managed to keep it under control. “I fucked up, Wendy. So much.”

  “Shh, hey,” her sister said. “He fucked up. Not you. Even if you did, I mean, we all do, he still should call you. You told him to when he had some time, and he hasn’t. That’s just a dick move.”

  Alice wiped her face and took the cloth away to look at her sister. “It’s playing games, and it’s stupid, but I’m doing it, too. So we’re both idiots.”

  “So . . . call him,” Wendy said.

  Alice gave her sister a long, hard look, until Wendy nodded with a sigh. “It’s a thing with him, Wendy. And it will probably always be a thing with him. So, the question is, can I deal with that thing? Or will it keep making me crazy?”

  “It will keep making you crazy.” Wendy shook her head.

  “So . . . I call him, he doesn’t call me back. Then I’m right back where we started. It sucks. It’s stupid. We’re both stubborn, we’re both assholes.” Alice shrugged helplessly, feeling the tears welling again. Hating herself for not being able to stop feeling so fucking sad. “But I told him to call me when he had time for me, and he hasn’t. Should I chase him?”

  “No. But do you want him to chase you?”

  Wendy had a point, one Alice had thought about a lot. “He doesn’t have to chase me. I’m right here. Right where I’ve always been. All he has to do is reach out, and here I am.”

  “I’m sorry.” Wendy reached to grab Alice’s hand for a squeeze. “It sucks all around.”

  “Yeah. It does.” Alice drew a deep breath and gave her sister a water-logged smile.

  “Hey, I know what would make this better. Soft serve from Peggy’s.” Wendy waggled her brows and grinned.

  The last thing in the world Alice wanted was ice cream, really, but her sister was trying to cheer her up.

  “By the time we get there,” Wendy said, “you’ll want some. I promise.”

  Face washed, positive attitude implemented, in her sister’s passenger seat, Alice turned the music up loud and rolled down the window to let the wind blow her hair. It was summer. She was with her sister. And ice cream really could make everything better.

  They were both laughing and singing along with the radio when the pickup truck ran the red light and rear-ended them.

  Chapter 31

  He’d known there would be questions when he showed up to Sunday dinner without Alice, but all Mick said was that she hadn’t been able to make it. Jimmy and Jack didn’t give a shit, of course. Pop, God bless him, wouldn’t have noticed the Pope if he walked in. Mick’s mother gave him an extra-long hug and pat on the back and served him two portions of turkey before she’d even let Jack have a second. It was Mary who cornered him in the kitchen after dinner, when Mick was getting something down from the high cupboard for Ma.

  “What happened?”

  Mick set the platter on the table and gave his sister a shrug he knew damn well wouldn’t put her off for long. Mary, who could be a dog with a bone, gave him a sad look. Mick shrugged.

  His sister watched him, her arms crossed. She’d started looking so much like their mother it was scary, except that Ma was soft-spoken and never pried. Mary could take a lesson, Mick thought, and felt bad at once.

  “She was good for you,” Mary repeated. “What did you do?”

  Mick cracked open the bottle and took a long pull. He could escape into the living room and the TV with his dad, brothers, and nephews, but he stayed. Not sure why.

  “I didn’t call her back.”

  Mary groaned. “Oh. That. What is it with you? With most men, actually. It’s not brain surgery. Someone calls you, you call them back, why is it so hard?”

  “I didn’t feel like talking to her right then, and then it got late and I was going to call her the next day. That’s all.” Mick shrugged again. The beer tasted sour, and he poured it down the sink.

  “Did you fight about it?”

  He nodded.

  Mary sighed. “So, call her now.”

  Mick said nothing. Mary’s brows rose. She put her hands on her hips.

  “Mick!”

  “She said she didn’t like it when we didn’t make plans, that it was always last minute.”

  Mary looked at him like he was stupid. “Makes sense to me.”

/>   “I’m spontaneous!” Mick protested.

  “You’re not spontaneous,” his sister told him. “You’re disorganized and you’re always looking for the next best thing, so you can’t commit to what’s in front of you in case something more exciting comes along.”

  That hit him to the core, but if anyone in the world knew him, it was Mary. “Shit. That’s cold.”

  “It’s true,” she said, but gently. “I love you, Mickey, but my God, I’ve watched you do this dance for years. You’re going to lose her if you don’t step up.”

  “She told me to call her when I had time for her, like I never made time for her, when I did. All the time. I gave that girl more time than I’ve ever given anyone! Why can’t women ever just be satisfied?”

  “I’m disgusted with you,” Mary said flatly. “Satisfied? You want her to be satisfied with what you give her? Don’t be arrogant, Mick. She wants to spend time with you because she likes you. And you turn around and knock her down for it?”

  “She pissed me off, Mare. I need time to cool down, so I don’t lose my temper and totally fuck everything up, say things I’ll regret.”

  Mary rolled her eyes. “Let me get this straight. You had a fight about you not calling her back and about not making plans. She told you to call her when you had time for her. And you’re not calling her?”

  It sounded stupid because it was stupid, but all Mick could do was give Mary a stubborn glare. His sister shook her head, clearly giving up on him. “I don’t want to be an idiot, Mary.”

  “Well,” she said. “You are.”

  Chapter 32

  Alice had been in the ER for hours. Nothing broken, though she’d needed stitches in her arm and hand. They hadn’t admitted her, though they’d taken Wendy upstairs an hour ago. Her sister had suffered the brunt of the accident and was being kept overnight for observation, though both of them had been fortunate not to suffer serious injuries. The driver of the truck had walked away without even being admitted. Everything could’ve been much worse.