Standing here so exposed and getting no reaction was worse than the first time she’d gotten naked for him. At least then he’d looked at her with yearning and desire. With warmth. He’d made her forget her struggles with her body image, which was no small feat. She’d thought she was at her most vulnerable then.
She’d been so wrong. This, now, stripped her bare inside and out.
Decklan freely admitted he’d wanted to teach Amanda a lesson. He wanted her to feel his lack of warmth and affection, and understand all she’d risked by keeping something so important a secret. He also wanted an outlet for the anger that he’d built up since seeing her on that television screen and having his relationship dissected by his family. In front of them, he’d tried to act unaffected and logical, but as hours had passed, his hurt and sense of betrayal had grown. By the time she’d walked into his apartment, he’d been itching for the fight he knew was coming.
It had taken all his self-control to watch her strip for him and not touch her creamy skin. To not visibly react to seeing her reveal inch after inch of the body he adored. Her br**sts were full and ripe, spilling over her bra. Her barely there panties teased him with the feminine secrets and heat hidden beneath. He wanted nothing more than to sink into her and forget that she’d kept such a big secret. That she hadn’t trusted him enough to let him in. That for a few hours, he’d actually wondered if he could possibly lose her. Or if he’d never really had her at all.
He’d taken a leap by letting her in, trusting her with his heart, whether he’d verbalized it or not. He didn’t do relationships either, but he’d committed himself to her. And in one minute, he’d had the illusion of happiness ripped away.
He’d experienced that once before and promised himself never again. So, yes, he had a lot of anger stored and a point to make.
Clothes removed, she clasped her hands in front of her and waited for his approval. He wasn’t ready to give it.
He stared at her deliberately cold, hoping the pounding of his heart and the raw need he really felt for her didn’t show. “That’s not following directions. Is it? I said clothes off. All of them.”
She gave him a small nod and released the back clasp of her bra, turned, and added it to the pile. His hand itched to run along her spine, to bend her to his command. To come inside her.
She rose and slid her panties off next, placing them on the top of the stack. Then, she drew her shoulders back and turned to face him.
Just as a fat tear rolled down her cheek.
“Fuck.” That was the last thing he wanted and the one thing guaranteed to break through to him. He might still be angry, might still not completely trust her, but he couldn’t treat her like this anymore.
He exhaled a groan. “Get dressed.”
She blinked, clearly startled by the opposing order. “What?”
“I said, get dressed.”
Her expression crumbled, and she turned away, pulling her clothes back on, her body shaking. Instead of releasing her from this painful scene, he’d obviously made things worse. He turned away while she dressed, gathering his emotions together. He didn’t know what he felt, needed, or wanted.
He heard her sniffle, turned, and realized she was headed for the door. “Wait.”
“I don’t see why. I get it. I screwed things up so badly you’re done. I have no intention of dragging things out or making a scene.”
“That’s not what I said. Or want. I just need to wrap my head around everything.” And get over the fact that she’d left out a huge part of her life as he’d revealed all of his.
“What do you want? Because other than apologizing, I’m not sure what more I can do.”
She had a point. He didn’t know either. Looking at her made his heart hurt. If it came down to how he felt about her in the moment, no question. He wanted her in every way he could get her. But he wanted all of her, not the parts she chose to reveal.
He ran a hand through his hair. “I don’t know.”
She turned to face him. “I bared myself to you. You might doubt that now, but it’s true. Just me revealing my body was like another woman exposing her soul. Same thing. So what you didn’t know? It had more to do with Brad than it did with me or you.” She drew a deep, shuddering breath. “I’m going to go.”
He wanted to stop her … but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. Maybe he just needed time. And clearly, she had no trouble giving it to him.
SIXTEEN
Amanda flew back to D.C. with Brad. She refused to discuss what had happened with Decklan, and after a while, her friend stopped pushing for answers. She knew he had his own issues with Keith, and he’d let her draw into herself.
As soon as she got into the safety of her own apartment, she let herself fall apart. Sunday night, her phone rang nonstop. She didn’t answer the calls, not from Brad, not from people who’d seen the news of her almost-engagement, which had been picked up nationally, and not from her mother. Marilyn had heard the news that her daughter was about to become engaged to Senator Ritter’s son, the billionaire software guru, and decided her daughter was finally doing something right. She couldn’t be more delighted and left Amanda many messages to that effect. The only person who never called was Decklan. Amanda ignored all the calls in favor of staying in bed.
She didn’t get up for work Monday morning either. In all the years Amanda worked for Brad, she’d only taken time off when she was sick or when he forced her on vacation. So she felt perfectly validated when she called this morning and told him she wouldn’t be coming in. She couldn’t manage it. Couldn’t get herself out of bed or rid herself of the pounding headache or the pain in her heart. A pain with Decklan’s name engraved all over it.
She punched her pillow and rolled over, just as her damned phone rang. Her heart skipped a beat, reminding her of a painful lesson. Hope was a brutal companion and always let her down.
She glanced at her cell. It wasn’t Decklan, and though barely twenty-four hours had passed, she’d seen his blank expression. He wouldn’t be calling or texting her again.
Unfortunately, her mother wasn’t giving up as easily.
“Well, she can darn well leave another message,” Amanda muttered to herself.
Amanda no longer sought her mother’s approval. She hadn’t in years, and these phone calls only served to remind her of yet something else in her life she could never get right. She wasn’t wallowing in pity, she was just facing some hard truths. Maybe she wasn’t at fault with her mother because Marilyn had such high expectations, but with Decklan?