All The Ways You Saved Me Page 21

  I answered it and pressed the phone to my ear. “Hello?”

  Chapter 31: Bianca

  My hands were still shaking when Ian kicked the door closed, tossing his leather jacket onto the kitchen counter. “C’mon, it wasn’t that bad.”

  I snorted. “You’re right, it wasn’t bad. It was awful. Dreadful. The worst Thursday in the history of Thursdays we’ve spent together.” A shudder coursed its way through me, and I worked my fingers over my scalp, trying to revive my helmet-flattened hair. Why anyone would choose a motorcycle as their preferred mode of transportation was beyond me. But, another item was checked off the list, and now that it was over, I only had three more left. Three. Renée would be so damn proud of me. And just that thought gave me a light, fluttery feeling inside my chest.

  Ian rolled his eyes and walked toward me, massaging his ribs. “I think you might’ve broken something.”

  “Shut up, I did not.” I had held on pretty tightly to him, but I wasn’t that bad.

  “Look.” He lifted up the edge of his shirt. “There’s a bruise, right?”

  There definitely was not a bruise.

  “Should I kiss it and make it better?” I quirked an eyebrow at him.

  Ian sucked in a breath, his gaze transforming from playful to molten hot in the blink of an eye. It was like a switch flipped. One second, we were friends goofing around, and the next, the air practically crackled with sexual tension.

  “I think you better.”

  I laid one palm flat against his stomach, and dropped my lips softly against his skin, giving it a quick kiss. “Here?”

  “Oh, uh . . . a little bit to your left?”

  Obligingly, I placed another open-mouthed kiss several inches to the left.

  “Sorry, I meant my left.”

  I nipped him, and he let out a laugh. Dropping his shirt, he ran his hands down my arms and inched closer. His lips found mine eagerly, his tongue playfully tangling with mine. With one hand he nudged off my jacket, while the other fisted in my hair. He tugged my head back a little farther, the urgency of his kiss rocketing up several degrees, until I could barely catch my breath.

  Hooking his arms underneath my thighs, he lifted me. I threw my arms around his neck, holding on as he walked us across the room, hip-checking a chair out of the way. Not for one instant did his lips leave mine. I wouldn’t have let them anyway. I was blazing with need. Craving him. It was this insane rush, buzzing through my blood, until it felt like I was drunk on Ian. All the while my brain kept repeating one single word—more.

  My butt thumped against the surface of the dining room table, and as soon as it did, I spread my legs so he could step between them. He practically ripped my shirt over my head, deftly removing my bra with a quick twist and flick of his fingers. His shirt rubbed against my bare skin, but that’s not what I wanted. Slipping my fingers underneath his shirt, I swept it up and over his head.

  Skin met skin, and a groan tumbled out from between my lips when he palmed my breast, rolling my nipple with his thumb. I arched toward him, at the same time tightening my hold around his neck so I could drag him closer. I dropped my hand to stroke the considerable bulge that was straining through his jeans, but his fingers wrapped around my wrist, drawing it back up and settling it against his chest.

  “Uh-uh.” His lips curled against mine. “It’s your turn.”

  Taking the same path down my stomach, his calloused fingers grazed over my skin, sending a wave of goosebumps shivering over me. I sucked in a breath when he popped open the button of my jeans and slipped a hand inside. His finger grazed me as he slid it farther, sinking one finger inside of me.

  I had to drop my head back, needing more air than I could suck in while Ian was devouring my mouth. Leaning back on my elbows, his lips chased me—sucking on my neck, nipping at my breast, pressing hot kisses down my ribcage, until his mouth and hand were almost at the same spot.

  His eyes lifted to find mine when he tugged off my pants and underwear, sliding them off my legs and letting them drop straight to the floor. There was so much heat in that gaze, I felt like I was melting into a puddle.

  Draping my legs over his shoulders, he tasted me with one long, slow swipe of his tongue. I squirmed against him, fighting the urge to push myself against him for more and retreat at the same time. My neck was having trouble supporting my head, and my arms trembled, aching for me to lay back against the table, but there was something so erotic about watching Ian going down on me. Seeing the dark of his hair against the pale skin of my thighs.

  He did something else with his tongue, at the same time pressing another finger inside of me. “Oh, God.” His gaze flicked up to me, eyes singeing me when they found me watching. “Don’t stop.”

  A slight vibration worked its way over me, the effects of his laugh dancing across my skin. He didn’t stop to answer me, but I could practically hear his words, broadcasting loud and clear in one look. Wasn’t planning on it.

  He worked me over until my thighs were quivering, every inch of my skin was flushed, and I could barely breathe for all that I was feeling. With another swipe of his tongue, I was coming, my heels digging into the hard muscles of his back.

  Finally, when I was drifting down from my high, my arms gave out. Sweat dappled my back, making my skin stick to the table. Tilting my head to the left, I let my cheek rest against the cool surface of the table. Everything around me was hazy, my eyes half slitted from the intensity of what just happened.

  Holy shit.

  My brain was still short-circuiting when I dragged my gaze up to Ian. A self-satisfied smirk lounged across his face as he rested his palms on either side of my hips. I had a sudden urge to wipe that look off his face. I wanted him to splinter apart just as surely as I’d disintegrated on his dining room table. In one quick motion, I sat back up and palmed him, running my hand over his length and squeezing once I got to the tip.

  I looked up at him, my hair dipping down to tickle against my bare back. His eyelids, which had fluttered shut at my touch, struggled to sweep back open.

  “More, Ian.”

  I didn’t have to ask twice.

  Our mouths clashed together again, and just like that I needed him all over again. He was like a drug. An addiction. Detox would be hell, but until the time I stepped on that plane to Texas in two weeks I wasn’t going to worry about it. To hell with it.

  I pulled back only long enough to ask, “Condom?”

  He was breathing hard as he responded, “Wallet,” immediately afterward sinking his teeth into the sensitive spot where my neck joined my shoulder. Fishing out his wallet, I found the small foil packet and tossed it on the table. I hooked my fingers in his belt loops, tugging him closer. Slipping off his pants, I shoved his boxer briefs down until he was just as naked as I was.

  In quick, successive motions, he rolled on the condom, dragged me to the end of the table, and sank inside me with a long groan. Fingers digging in my ass, he angled me up and drove into me. The dining room table shook with every thrust, one leg yelping out a tiny squeal every time he did. It was fast and hard, a brutal pace that I only egged on by hooking my legs around him, dragging him in deeper.

  The muscles in his arms rippled and his abs flexed as he came, tipping his head back in a breathy moan. Withdrawing, he stumbled to the side and collapsed into the chair he’d shoved aside in our haste over here. He heaved out a breath and voiced what I’d been thinking only minutes before. “Holy shit.” A grin spread across his face as he looked at me. “I am never going to be able to look at this table again without thinking of you.”

  Beneath my cheek, Ian’s heart thumped steadily. My fingers splayed against his shirt, soaking in all the warmth of him, the scent of his cologne tickling my nose. A blanket was tucked around my legs, and a movie flashed across the flat screen, painting the room in flickering colors. I’d tried to pay attention, but if I was being honest, I couldn’t even remember the name of it.

  My thoughts were in turmoil. Th
ere was a riot taking place in my brain, and anything beyond that was too much to try and focus on. As Ian’s fingers threaded through my hair, playing with the short strands, one of a thousand traitorous thoughts snaked its way across my consciousness—How can I give this up?

  Anymore, I wasn’t sure that I could. And that was a colossal problem.

  Was I really considering giving up a position at a prestigious law firm for Ian? Going against my parents for a guy? A guy who I was having a casual relationship with? Not to mention the fact that there was still a lot about Ian I didn’t know. I couldn’t even be sure there were any feelings on Ian’s end, let alone whether he’d actually want me to stay.

  Stay. When I thought the word, the rightness of it settled on me. Something clicked into place like silent confirmation. Not for the first time, I remembered my promise to Renée to live the life I wanted. I’d given my word to her, and I’d meant it. But was this really what I wanted?

  “Hey,” Ian said, his fingers stilling. “Penny for your thoughts.”

  There it was. An invitation to let it out, see where we stood. The words lined up, willing and ready to spring out of my mouth, but I pinched my lips shut. Once I went there, there was no going back. I hesitated, and each second that passed had me retreating from the idea.

  “It’s nothing, I’m just tired,” I finally said, adding on a small yawn for good effect. My gaze strayed to the cable box where the late hour flashed back at me. Taking the blanket with me, I scooted up into a seated position and leaned my head against his arm. “It’s pretty late. I should probably head home.”

  “Or you could . . . stay.”

  My heart did a celebratory tap dance in my chest. There was that word again, as if he’d plucked it from a stray thought. We’d stayed together that night in the tent, but there hadn’t really been a choice involved. Camping required spending the night together, just like the list also necessitated him kissing me on the Ferris wheel. This was an unprovoked decision that was all his. I caught his gaze. “Are you sure?”

  Are you? His returning stare asked me. I wasn’t sure when we’d gotten to the point that I could read his thoughts, that a simple look could speak volumes. Yet, here we were. Instead of speaking it aloud, he said, “Yeah. It’d be nice.”

  “All right,” I said, snuggling back against him. “I’ll stay.”

  And, God, how I wanted to.

  Chapter 32: Ian

  2 Years Earlier

  The scene played out like a sick version of déjà vu—the phone call, the race to the hospital. This couldn’t be happening again. God, please, not again.

  I couldn’t remember parking my car, wasn’t positive I’d even made it into a parking spot. Only the edge of the keys digging into my palm guaranteed the damn thing wasn’t still running.

  I slammed my hands down onto the counter. “I need information on my wife, Maggie Mathis. I got a phone call. They said she was in some type of accident.”

  The nurse nodded at me and directed her eyes to the computer. “Sir, it appears that your wife is in surgery. If you’ll allow me to—”

  “Surgery? What the hell is going on? What happened?” My voice crept up with every word until I was screaming.

  “Please calm down, sir. I can take you to the waiting room, and the doctor will be out to update you shortly.”

  “Calm down?” She sounded crazier than I felt. “How the fuck am I supposed to calm down when you won’t tell me what’s going on with my wife?”

  “Ian!” Rachel yelled my name, but it took me a few seconds to find her. She came flying around a corner, racing in my direction. I blinked hard—the vision of her in her dirtied, red prom dress blurring into the present, like two picture negatives laid one on top of the other. The image faded, but the red didn’t. She was covered in it. The dark stain of blood coated half her face, splashed down her neck, and completely soaked her shirt and pants.

  “Ma’am!” Another nurse chased after her, hot on her heels.

  Rachel wrapped her arms around me, sobbing into my chest. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.” She kept on saying it, over and over, like an old-time record with a scratch in its surface.

  My mind warred with itself whether I should make sure Rachel was okay or demand answers about Maggie. I ran a hand over her head and my fingertips came away blood-stained and sticky. “Rach, are you all right?”

  Her fingers trembled as she wiped at her eyes. “I’m fine, just scratched up a little.” A hand drifted up to her face, shaking like a leaf, hovering over a gash that slashed through her left eyebrow.

  “The blood . . . it’s not . . .” I took a step back, trying to swallow the bile that was creeping up my throat. “It’s not yours?”

  A sob ripped through her throat, and she shook her head.

  “What happened?” I meant to yell it, but it came out like a whisper. “Tell me, please just tell me.”

  “He came out of nowhere.” Rachel bowed her head, then pulled it back up with a deep, shaky breath. “We were crossing the parking lot, leaving to come to you. The car, it came out of nowhere. It was flying. We tried to get out of the way, but . . .” She squeezed her eyes shut like she was trying to rid herself of the image. “It clipped me, I fell.” She held out her hands toward me, palms first so I could see the abrasions. “Maggie . . . I didn’t see what happened, but next thing I knew, she was on the ground with me. I called 911, and stayed with her till they came. There was so much blood. I swear, Ian. I did everything I could. Everything.”

  When she broke down this time, I wrapped my arms around her again and pulled her into me. “I know you did, Rach.” My throat burned, and so did my eyes. Tears blurred my vision until the emergency room disappeared, hidden in my grief. I tried to cling to hope, but it seemed just outside my reach. I’d already done this, been through the same routine with my father. Why would this time be any different?

  This was all my fault. If I hadn’t lied to her, hadn’t tried to surprise her for our anniversary, then she wouldn’t have even been at the mall. She would’ve been home, where she was meant to be—wrapped up in my arms.

  “Mr. Mathis?”

  I turned to see a man, a doctor, if I was guessing by his white coat. Trying to get myself under control, I nodded at him.

  “Mr. Mathis, I’m your wife’s doctor, Dr. Abel. I wanted to come out and give you a brief update. I won’t lie to you, your wife is in bad shape. We’re dealing with a pelvic fracture, tibial plateau fracture, internal bleeding, and intracranial hemorrhage. I know that’s a lot to take in, and you probably have plenty of questions, but where I’m needed most right now is with your wife. I’ll have someone keep you updated, but it’ll be awhile before she’s out.” He laid a hand on my arm. “I promise you, Mr. Mathis, we’re doing the very best we can.”

  A thousand questions hovered on the tip of my tongue, but I swallowed them down. If Maggie needed him, I wouldn’t waste his time. I’d ask someone else. His sneakers squeaked on the floor as he turned, his bald head disappearing around the corner and out of sight. My mind spun, conjuring images of Maggie lying bleeding and broken on the hard asphalt, splatters of crimson spotting the snow.

  “Ma’am?” The nurse who’d trailed Rachel laid a hand on her shoulder. “I need to stitch this up. Please, come back to your bed.”

  “I . . .” Her gaze searched mine. “I’ll come find you as soon as they’re done with me.” She took two steps away before looking back to me, her eyes welling with tears. “I’m sorry, Ian.”

  I didn’t blame her, knew it wasn’t her fault. In that moment I should have told her so, but my tongue was paralyzed, and I couldn’t make myself say the words. I managed to give her a jerky nod, or at least I thought I did. Everything was numb. I couldn’t feel my fingers. My feet seemed miles away.

  I stood there, staring, for God knew how long, my shoes cemented to the floor. If breathing hadn’t been an automatic process, I’d likely have died right then from forgetting to do it. As the horror of it
all continued to sink in and the nightmare wrapped itself around my neck, one thought persisted in being heard above all others—my wife was going to die, and it would be my fault.

  Hours passed that seemed like years. They’d taken me to a waiting room that smelled of cinnamon and had an enormous painting of a flower hanging to my right. The clock perched on the opposite wall, and I felt each tick of the second hand against my skin.

  Ben was the first to show, then Mom. Rachel appeared with stitches crisscrossing her brow, her bloodied clothes exchanged for an oversized pair of blue scrubs. She’d sat next to Ben, gripped his hand in hers, and hadn’t let go.

  Maggie’s parents came after them, but I couldn’t even manage to give them a hello. They asked all the same questions I did, and Ben supplied the answers—yes, she was still alive; no, the man who hit her was DOA, he’d been in diabetic shock when he ran them down; no, we didn’t have any more information than that.

  My head never left my hands, and I stared down at the floor between my feet until the pattern of the linoleum was imprinted onto my retinas. I could feel their eyes on me every now and then, worrying, waiting. What reassurance could I give them when it felt like my soul had been ripped from my body? When the essence of my being was lying right next to Maggie, waiting to hear its fate?

  Because if there was one thing I knew, it was this: I wouldn’t make it without Maggie. I wouldn’t survive. Sure, my body might go through the motions, but the important parts, the pieces that made me who I was, all that would die with her. And really, what kind of life would that be?

  Gavin and Felix were the last two to walk through the door, but they came, like I knew they would.