Pulse (Collide) Page 4

  Heavy tension fell over the room, its presence nearly depleting the oxygen in Emily’s lungs. His insinuation slapped her hard across the face. No longer able to control her emotions, she blinked as tears slipped from her eyes. “I paid that night in more ways than one. I tortured myself in more ways than anyone will ever know.”

  The sour truth tumbled from her mouth as her mind replayed the self-inflicted pain she’d allowed from Dillon as punishment for her actions and indecision. As much as she loved Gavin, she refused to subject herself to Colton’s accusations of her enjoying anything from that hideous evening. Fumbling out of her chair, she brought her hand to her chest. “You have no idea how much I love your brother. I can’t breathe without him. I haven’t slept. I’ve barely eaten. No, I didn’t believe him at first. I couldn’t. I opened the door that morning to his past when I thought I was his future. It killed me. My instincts told me to run, and so I did, and now we’re both suffering for it.”

  Cupping her hand over her mouth, Emily looked down to the ground, her heart throbbing. She slowly brought her attention back to Colton, her frantic green eyes begging. “I don’t know if he’ll take me back, and I don’t expect him to. I don’t know if he’ll even look at me, because I can barely look at myself. What I do know is I need to see him. I need to tell him how sorry I am. Even if it means putting myself out there without knowing any of those things, I have to do it.” Emily drew in a gulp of air, her eyes narrowing. “But don’t you dare tell me I don’t love him because you’re wrong.”

  Eyes no longer smug, understanding and compassion filled Colton’s features. Rising, he grabbed a pen and a sticky note. After scribbling something onto it, he rounded the corner of his desk and handed her the tiny piece of paper. “Here’s the address to his house and a beachside bar you’ll probably find him hanging out at.” Colton dug into his pants pocket and pulled out his wallet. After thumbing through some cash, a smile pulled at the edge of his mouth. “Though I wasn’t too fond of you earlier, I’m not going to let you foot the bill to go down there for the little wiseass.” Colton reached for Emily’s hand and tucked the money into it. “It’s not my style.”

  Looking at the cash, Emily sniffled. She shook her head. “I can’t take this. It’s enough you’re letting me know where he is.” She attempted to give it back.

  “I insist.” He lightly pushed her hand away. “Besides, it’s only a few hundred bucks. I’ll charter the jet to bring you down there, and I’ll make sure everything else is taken care of, including your hotel.” Colton cleared his throat and shoved his hands into his pockets. “Though I hope otherwise, we need to go with the assumption that… well, he might not be thrilled with you showing up.”

  Emily swallowed tightly and nodded. As she gathered her belongings, she tried to push that haunting fact from her thoughts, but she knew making a move like this was something she might have to face. After slipping on her coat, she stared at Colton for a moment. “Have you heard from him at all?”

  “No.” Colton shook his head. “Not yet.”

  Fear scissored through her stomach. “How do you know he made it down there? Something could’ve happened to him.”

  “Believe me, I know my brother. Nothing’s happened to him.” Assurance spun through his tone as he walked Emily to the door. “He’s the only one who’ll do harm to himself.”

  With her mouth parting and worry lines cinching her brows, Emily’s eyes widened. “You don’t think he’d—”

  “No. No,” Colton interrupted, a grin twisting his lips. “That came across the wrong way. Forget what I said.” The tension in Emily’s shoulders scattered like leaves in the wind. With his voice low, his grin fell away. “I apologize for my crudeness. He’s my kid brother, and even though he’s a diehard Yankees fan, which I loathe because I’m a diehard Mets fan, I kind of dig him.”

  “I kind of dig him, too,” Emily whispered, staring at her feet. She brought her gaze back to Colton’s eyes, traces of Gavin lingering in them. “I really do.”

  “I know, but you don’t have to convince me. You have to get down there and prove it to him. I’ll have my assistant call you with the information you’ll need.”

  Emily hugged her purse to her chest, her eyes swimming with gratitude. “Thank you, Colton.”

  Colton nodded and pulled open the door.

  Making her way out, tears trickled down Emily’s cheeks. As she stood once again in the elevator where it’d all started, a mixture of relief and fear flooded Emily’s body. A dangerous storm ricocheted through her nerves, escalating her heart rate. Still, though doubt about showing up unannounced in an attempt to salvage any relationship with Gavin strained through her muscles, Emily knew she couldn’t add any more numbers to the growing seconds passing, keeping them apart.

  Tick-tock…

  The setting Caribbean sun cast low shadows against mosaic tiles lining a small outdoor bar on the beach. Sitting on the southernmost tip of 5th Avenue, Gavin knew the place well and frequented it each time he visited the area. Smoke lazily wended up from a fiery grill, the drifting aroma of shrimp tacos and tamales filled the air. With warm winds kicking up, Gavin’s broken heart raced in rhythm with the waves crashing against the sand as he took in the sights and sounds around him.

  Steel drums playing down the beach hummed through his ears as vacationers finished up a game of volleyball on the hot sand. Women with bodies to die for slapped layer upon layer of suntan lotion across their surgically-enhanced breasts. A toddler skipped into the turquoise water, and his father ran after him. Eventually picking him up, he spun the child around. The little boy let out a gut-belly laugh, his head undoubtedly dizzy. The corners of Gavin’s mouth turned up a small smile while he watched them play. The man scurried out of the water, his son tucked tightly under his arm, and set the little boy on the sand next to his mother, abruptly interrupting her few peaceful moments.

  Gavin couldn’t help but feel a deep pang of longing as he watched the middle-aged man crouch down next to his wife. A grin on his face, he pulled his fair-skinned love into his arms and planted a kiss onto her lips. With adrenaline-spiked clarity, the memory of embracing Emily rushed through Gavin’s thoughts. Reaching for his bourbon on the rocks, rocks melted from the heat, he forced his gaze away from the couple.

  “Señor Blake.” Gavin lifted his eyes and saw one of the cabana boys he’d come to know well over the years approaching with another bourbon. Placing the drink down in front of Gavin, Miguel wiggled his brows. “This, señor, is from the beautiful señorita.” He craned his head toward a woman seated alone at the bar.

  Gavin stole a sideways glance in her direction. Crossing her long legs under a short, silk sundress, the woman aimed a coy smile at Gavin and sipped her piña colada. Her lips lingered on the straw as she gazed at him intently.

  Gavin simply nodded to thank her. He returned his attention to the young Mexican worker, fished his wallet from his back pocket, and handed the man a tip. “Thank you, Miguel. Go ahead and get her another round on me.” Leaning back, he draped his arm across the chair next to him. “How’s Maria and the little one doing?”

  “Oh, they’re doing wonderful, Señor Blake,” he answered, the joy in his voice reaching his eyes. “We trying to teach him to play football.” The young man smiled and swiped Gavin’s empty glass from the table. “Well, you Americans call it soccer. We hope to see him play for… what do you call it? The Olympia?”

  Gavin let out a light chuckle. “The Olympics.”

  Smiling, Miguel tossed a dishrag over his shoulder. “Yes. The Olympics. Then, he make me and my family have as much dinero as you one day. Much happiness comes with that. Si?”

  Gavin picked up his new glass and swirled the liquid, the fresh ice clinking against the sides. He cast a weary smile at Miguel, his tone void of any emotion as visions of Emily plowed through his senses. “Right. Money brings much happiness, Miguel.”

  Miguel grinned and turned away, leaving demons of despair to torture Gavin. B
uried just beneath the surface, a nearly insufferable pain latched onto his heart. Unwelcomed, flashes of Emily’s auburn hair tickling his face ran rampant through his mind. No longer in his grasp, the thought sucked the last vestiges of feeling from Gavin’s soul. As the mix of emotions ebbed with every unsteady breath he took, his pain gave way to anger. But try as he might, Gavin couldn’t escape her. Need for her tensed every muscle in his body as memories of them together clouded his thoughts, tripping and tumbling over each other.

  With a wall of unease settling around him, Gavin lifted his head. His gaze caught the attention of the woman who’d sent him a drink. Her features were pleasant enough. Rich, wavy, shoulder-length red hair fell easily over the straps of her sundress. Gavin flicked his eyes across her slender physique as she stared at him, a timid grin taking over her mouth. Though he didn’t consider her a woman who would stick out in a crowd, her eyes and smile lit up her face, and Gavin found it hard to look away. He watched as she gracefully slid from the barstool.

  She grabbed her drink, a clutch, and started making her way toward him. Eyes locked on hers, Gavin swallowed and listened to her heeled sandals clicking against the wooden deck. Before she closed their distance, the woman came to a stop. She tilted her head and studied his face as if asking if it was okay to join him. Gavin found her trepidation appealing. With a reluctant nod, he motioned to the seat across from him.

  Smiling, she continued her pursuit and stepped down from the deck onto the patio lining the beach. As she pulled out a chair, she placed her drink and clutch onto the table, her hair blowing across her face with the warm breeze. When she brought her hand up to tuck the strands behind her ear, Gavin noticed her green eyes, their shade hauntingly familiar. Emotions swept over him as his mind desperately fought against thoughts of Emily.

  “I can spot a man with a broken heart from a mile way,” the woman purred, sinking into the seat. She crossed her legs and took a long sip from her frozen beverage. She subtly leaned across the table. A seductive smile tipped the corner of her glossed lips, her gaze falling from Gavin’s face to his chest. After roaming over his upper body, she brought her eyes back to his. “What can I do to remedy this problem for you, Mr.…?”

  Gavin leaned back and shook his head. “Not as shy as you appear,” he mumbled, reaching for his drink. “They do say looks can be deceiving. But it’s all good. I’m not as shy as I may appear.” Gavin chugged the rest of his drink, set his glass on the table, and flicked it with his thumb and middle finger. Its condensation allowed it to slide smoothly across the glass top, clinking against an ashtray. He rested his elbows on the table, smirked, and tented his fingers under his chin. “You want to remedy my problem? I’m intrigued, Miss…?”

  The unnamed woman bit her lip and mimicked his pose. “One: I’m very happy you’re intrigued. That was my sole purpose in coming over here. I enjoy it when a man finds me intriguing. Two: No, I’m not as shy as I appear, honey. Far from it. Three: I never said you looked shy. Nothing about you screams shy, and for me, that’s a good thing.” She uncrossed her legs, slipped her heel off her right foot, and reached down to massage it. With the tilt of his head, Gavin watched soberly as she slowly ran her blood red nails from the bottom of her foot up to her calf. Repositioning herself in her chair, she tucked her shoeless foot under her ass and smiled. “Four: Yes, I’d like to remedy your problem in whatever way you see fit. I’m going through a tough time myself, so it’ll benefit us both. And, five: You never gave me your name, so why should I give you mine? It’s apparent I’m slightly older than you, so you really should respect your elders. Wouldn’t you agree, Mr.…?”

  Without moving, a grin pulled at the side of Gavin’s mouth. “Gavin Blake.”

  “Ahh, well then, Mr. Blake, whose heart has clearly been hurt, it’s very nice to meet you. I’m Miss Layton, but you can call me Jessica.” Staring into his eyes, she reached across the table, offering Gavin her hand. He took it and felt her fingers draw small circles on his palm. She hesitantly pulled back and pushed her breasts together. “So, who was she and why on earth would she break the heart of a man who looks as enticing as you do?”

  With a nerve hit, Gavin cleared his throat and glanced past Jessica. He raised his hand for Miguel to bring them another round. He rolled his neck, leaned back, and tucked his hands into the pockets of his khaki cargo shorts. Face impassive and eyes pinned on hers, he cocked his head to the side. “Let me clarify a few things for you. Jessica’s your name, correct?”

  Looking slightly thrown off by his question and tone, she nodded.

  “Well, Jessica,” Gavin continued, “one: My life, and who used to be in it, is none of your business. Don’t ask me about it again. Two: You may think you can remedy my problem, but I’m pretty fucking sure you can’t. However, I’m more than sure I can fuck you into oblivion, remedying the recent tough times you’ve had right out of your mind. I might be younger than you, but you’re not my first walk in the park. Get where I’m going with this?”

  Eyes wide, Jessica parted her lips but didn’t speak. She nodded again.

  “Good. I’m glad we’re on the same page.” Gavin handed his credit card to Miguel, who’d approached with their drinks. “Three: I’ve been around many intriguing women, so don’t take my statement as a compliment. I know how to flatter a woman better than telling her I find her under-sexed, crazed approach intriguing. Four: If you want to fuck, we can fuck. My house is a two-minute walk from here. But I’ll warn you now, that’s all it’ll be. Don’t expect a sleep over. I’ll fuck you, and fuck you very well, but I’ll send you on your way once our escapade is over. I won’t give you my number, and you’ll never enter my thoughts again. So now, Jessica…” Gavin cupped his chin, the crease of his brows showing he was trying to remember her last name.

  “Layton,” Jessica answered, her voice cracking. “My last name’s Layton.”

  “Ahh, that’s right. So now, Miss Jessica Layton, the ball’s in your court.” Gavin ran a hand through his hair and shot her a wink. Once again, Miguel approached the table with Gavin’s credit card. After shoving it back into his wallet, Gavin looked across the table at Jessica sitting speechless, her fingers rubbing up and down her neck. “Make the call, Jessica, because honestly, if we don’t do this,” he said with a light shrug, “I’ll just go back to my joint and milk my own dick.”

  With shock twisting her face, Jessica stood, slipped her sandal back on, and reached for her clutch.

  Assuming his curt response had scared her off, Gavin gave another shrug as his eyes landed on the family he was admiring earlier. He watched them make their way, hand in hand, over to a small, two-door clunk of shit. He knew his riches couldn’t compare to their happiness. He wanted that happiness. He wanted that clunk of shit.

  “Well, are you ready?” Jessica asked, her voice laced with sexual urgency.

  Gavin tore his attention from the fading dream and watched Jessica pluck his bourbon from his hands. She finished it in one long gulp. After placing the empty glass on the table, she brushed her fingertips across Gavin’s temple, down the side of his cheek, and over the curve of his jaw. Gavin momentarily stiffened, trying not to flinch at her touch. He rose and grabbed Jessica’s hand. His feet, as if they had a mind of their own, led them toward his place.

  “So, aren’t you a little curious as to why I’m in Mexico alone?” Jessica questioned as they made their way down a small wooden walkway.

  Looking out onto the tumbling waves, the last of the sun falling asleep below the horizon, Gavin shook his head. “Not really.”

  “You know, you’re really not a nice guy.” She pulled her hand away. Its absence didn’t affect Gavin either way. Still, she followed closely by his side.

  “No. I’m too much of a nice guy,” Gavin mumbled, idly wondering where Emily was in that moment. Loneliness flooded his chest, but he welcomed its suffocating presence. This was something he knew. It was all too familiar to him. He almost considered it an old buddy.

 
; “Right,” Jessica huffed, her tone tight with skepticism. “Well, considering what we’re about to do, maybe you can try to be a little… pleasant?”

  Stopping just shy of his place, Gavin looked at her, his brow drawn up. “Look, I laid it all out. I can do sex, but I won’t do pleasantries. Take it or leave it.” For the barest second, Gavin felt ill to his stomach. He’d been raised to always treat women with respect, and he pictured his father’s disgust with the way he was acting. Still, the thought was fleeting. His old habit screamed, waving its self-medication in his face.

  Shut down. Shut off. Disconnect.

  Jessica pursed her lips. “Fine. Only because I need this more than you know.”

  Once on his porch, Jessica whipped her crimson hair to the side, and Gavin was suddenly engulfed by the scent of her body. Her jasmine perfume aroused memories he was trying to forget. It shook him, nearly staggering his balance. He took a deep breath and steadied himself. Looking down at her wanting green eyes, he brought his hand around the back of her neck and pulled her hard into his mouth. She pressed her chest against his and let out a soft moan, her hands coming up to grasp his hair. Her moan, although filled with seductive, feminine yearning, wasn’t the moan he wanted to hear. Her lips, sweet in their own way, didn’t feel right locked on his. They didn’t mold to his like a piece to a puzzle.

  Anger swelled, and Gavin started kissing her with ravenous intensity. He pinned her against the wall, reached for her thigh, and drew her leg up around his waist. She breathed out heavily as he roughed his hand under her sundress, skimming below her panties. In one swift motion, he had three fingers buried inside her. Her hips bucked against each hard thrust, and she clung to his neck, fisting the collar of his white linen shirt. Her pussy, though wet and as ready as any man could ever want, felt foreign, and at this, Gavin fingered her deeper, harder.