Scandalous 1 (Scandalous #1)(16)
Author: H.M. Ward

There was a moment of silence as my eyes drifted past him to the canvas. That’s when he asked softly, “Do you regret it?”

I glanced up at him, and shook my head. “No. Necessary evil, I suppose.”

He bristled, “Of course.” Reaching for his shirt, he turned and pulled it over his head. The black tee molded to his body, as he walked away.

It took me a second to figure out what upset him. “Jack,” my voice was sharp. “I’m a minister and I stripped for you. There’s a nak*d painting of me hanging on your wall.” My voice cracked. The wave of what-have-I-done crashed into me.

He turned back to me, a wounded expression on his face. “It’s not stripping. It’s not hooking. It’s not f**king like that!” The veins in his neck rose as he yelled.

“Maybe for you it wasn’t, but for me it was.” He huffed, and turned, ready to leave, but I grabbed his arm. “Stop, and listen. Damn it, Jack! You don’t listen! Maybe it meant nothing to you, but it did to me. It matters. This is something that was supposed to be with my soulmate, and not strewn across a canvas. I wanted the first man to see me, the first guy that touched me, to be someone who actually loved me. I wanted those things, Jack. This isn’t how I thought things would be. It feels wrong, not because of you, but because of me.” My voice faded as I spoke. I couldn’t look at him. It wasn’t shame; it was disappointment. Somewhere in the back of my mind, it felt like I settled, and it unhinged me.

Jack stood in front of me, his jaw set tight, listening. When I stopped, he breathed deeply, trying to calm himself. “What do you want, Abby?” His voice softened. He leaned closer to me. I took a step back. “Do you want me to tell you what you want to hear? I don’t even know what the f**k that is? I try to talk to you, to tell you, but you seem so unattainable… like a goddess just out of reach. Last night it was all I could manage to keep my hands off of you. The scent of your skin was intoxicating, and yet, I couldn’t touch you. I can’t ever touch you. I can’t ever have you; I can’t ever love you because you’re not mine. You’re out of bounds.”

My voice squeaked, my jaw dropped as I looked up into his stormy eyes, “What did you say?”

His shoulders slumped as he shook his head, his hands pressing on his temples. “You’re out of bounds. I can’t be the one that makes you fall, Abby. You chose your path, you said your vows, and since that’s the life you want, I’ll help you keep it.” He turned from me, walking back to the painting.

I stared at his back. Every part of me felt like it shattered into a million pieces. Did he say he loved me? Did I really hear those words fall from his gorgeous lips? Padding to him slowly, I stopped behind him, asking, “Jack?” He turned, his expression still unpredictable. “Kiss me.” I whispered the words, standing there in front of him with my lips parted, barely breathing.

His eyes fixated on my lips, watching me, wanting me. Without tearing his gaze away, he said, “I can’t. I can’t do that to you. I missed my chance.” The last words were a whisper. I stepped closer to him, looking up into his face. He was close enough to touch, but I didn’t dare.

“What chance?” I asked.

He gazed down at me, blinking like it would erase the memory from his mind. “High school. Before you ran. I didn’t want to mess things up between us. I thought if you really wanted to kiss me that you’d complete the kiss. But you didn’t.”

“I thought you didn’t want me. From the way you acted, I thought I didn’t matter to you like that.”

His eyes were wide, and soft, so soft. He breathed, “I’ve always wanted you like that. But the things you said, about my past, about the other girls—it seemed to cancel out any chance with you.”

Swallowing hard, I gazed at his face, his eyes that seemed so lost and haunted. I shook my head softly. “I grew up, Jack. Your past doesn’t matter to me. It’s part of you.”

He reached out for me, tugging me by the waist closer to him. Gazing down into my face, he whispered, “I’m sorry, but I can’t be the one to start this. I can’t be the one to pull you from your calling and break your vows.”

Reaching up, I stroked his cheek, gently running my fingers along his smooth skin. He sucked in a jagged breath, closing his eyes. Jack’s scent was perfect, filling my head, making me bold. Leaning in, I pressed my lips gently to his. Lowering my lashes, I could feel his breath hitch as it happened. My head swam. The sensations flooded my body making me want more of him, but he pulled away.

“I can’t, Abby…” He pressed his lips together tight, looking away from me at the canvas on the wall. “I can be anything and everything else for you, but I can’t be the one who makes you fall.”

CHAPTER TWENTY

The next few days passed in silence. I went back to Kate’s to get away from Jack, but it did me no good. Everything made me think of him. The way his eyes looked at me the other night. The way he spoke of me as though I was an angel and his love would condemn me made me cry.

Kate noticed I was missing Sunday night, and grilled me on it the next day. Her dirty mind asked, “Did you sleep with him? Why’d you stay over?”

Swallowing hard, I picked at my bagel. I wanted to talk about it with someone. Jack held me so high that it felt like I was horrible for wanting him so much. I glanced up at her, “He painted me.”

She choked on her bagel. “What? Like one of his nak*d girls?”

“Exactly like one of his nak*d girls,” picking at the bread, I formed a pattern on my plate. I pushed the crumbs around with my finger. Glancing up, I could see Kate’s eyes widen.

“Abby,” she stared, not blinking, paused like a cartoon character in total shock. “Why? Why would you do that?”

“He’s giving me the painting. I can do what I want with it. No one can see it, and it can stay at the top of my closet forever or I can auction it off and get rid of my loans. It would let me start preaching somewhere else.”

“Who in their right mind will take a nude preacher? Abby, what were you thinking?”

I glared at her, wishing she asked different questions. “You won’t be able to tell it’s me, and no one else was there, so they won’t know who it was either. Kate, it’s already done. I didn’t have a problem with it, so neither should you.”

“Then what’s wrong?” she sipped her coffee, her tone softer.

“He said he loves me.” My eyes stung and I could feel my lashes growing wet as I tried to stop the tears. I was such a mess. Before I left Texas I knew exactly what I wanted, and now, the only thing I wanted was Jack and he wouldn’t have me.

“Abby,” she gasped, “what happened? What’d you say?”

“I tried to kiss him, but he wouldn’t. He said he would be the reason I “fell.” Kate, he talks about me like I’m an angel, and being with him will ruin me. After all this time, I found out why he didn’t kiss me, that he loved me since the beginning. And now it’s too late.” Kate shifted her chair so she was sitting next to me, and handed me a napkin to dab my eyes. I took a deep breath to steady myself.

“There’s only one thing to do, Abby.” I glanced at Kate. Her dark hair was swooped up into a sloppy ponytail on top of her head, and an oversized sweater swallowed her body. “You need to show him that you’ve already fallen.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Kate continued, “If he thinks you’re out of reach, if being with you will hurt you, he won’t do it. You have to show him that it won’t, Abby. Make him see you, all of you—your heart, mind, and soul—and accept that you choose him.”

I shook my head, “I tried, Kate, but he wouldn’t listen. He pushed me away.”

“Was this before or after he painted you?” she asked, a sharp gleam in her eye like she had a plan.

“After,” I replied, eyeing her. “What difference does that make?”

“It’s a world of difference. Here’s what you should do,” and she started telling me a plan that made me blush brightly. Kate laughed, shaking her head. “It’s an all or nothing plan. You have to be bold. Shyness will only make him think he’s corrupting you. Do you think you can do it?”

“I have to try.”

__________

Only a few short weeks had passed since I got here. I managed to pay my loans once by myself and it felt good. I felt good. Part of me that had been repressed suddenly felt alive, and she wasn’t backing down without a fight. Jack was the prize and I couldn’t lose him again.

I spent the rest of the day getting ready. I washed my hair way too many times, until the sand was all gone. There was a small beach in the drainpipe by the time I was done. I pulled on a lacey bra and panty set that I got at the mall a few days ago. I bought them thinking no one would ever see them. Now I was putting them on hoping that Jack would see them and take them off of me. Butterflies swarmed in my stomach, making me feel sick. Part of me whispered that I should embrace the sickness and bury myself under the covers, but my giddy inner child was ready for an adventure. She wanted to jump off cliffs, and do things that made my heart pound. We high-fived and I shoved her into the back of my mind where she tied up my reasoning and held it captive with her unicorn. There was no way I would chicken out. I was going to do this.

After gazing in the mirror, I slid a pair of dark jeans over the sexy bottoms and felt beautiful. My hair cooperated, my makeup looked exceptional. There was only one thing left to do. I grabbed my bag and headed toward Jack’s studio.

When I arrived the place was dark. I let myself in, and locked the door behind me. Walking through the blackened halls, I looked for Jack. The echo of my heels hitting the tile filled my ears. Moving through the space, I found Jack outside, behind the studio, sitting in a chair with a drink in his hand, staring up at the sky.

“Hey,” I said after watching him for a moment. His dark hair fell forward as he lifted his head and looked at me.

His face lit up, “Abby. I didn’t think you were coming tonight.”

I shrugged, like what else would I be doing. My heart beat wildly in my chest as I straddled the chair next to him and said, “I heard you were short on models. I want another painting, but I want to help paint it.”

His eyes were dark and brooding. They slid over my face, hesitant to go lower. “I barely survived last night. I don’t have it in me, Abby.”

Standing, I said, “I think you do.” I pulled him up by his hand and led him back inside. Removing his drink from his hand, I put it down on the table. Leaning into him, I spoke softly, but firmly, “I’ll be clothed this time, Jack. You can do it. I won’t let you say no.”

Jack’s eyes met mine. He seemed so distraught. “I already told you, Abby. I can’t do this. I can’t undo you. You’re out of reach for me. You always have been.”

I took his hand in mine, and pressed it over my heart. His fingers grazed my breast, “Do you feel what you do to me?” If my heart slammed into my ribs any harder, they’d crack. He could feel it, racing wildly beneath his hand. His gaze remained melancholy. “Jack, look at me.” His blue eyes met mine. They were darkening, wanting something he couldn’t have. Holding his hand to my heart, I leaned in to kiss him, but he looked down.