Take Me (Page 43)

He was so beautiful. That was the problem. It had always been the problem, even when they were kids, and he deliberately didn’t choose her for his soccer team at recess. Even then she had gazed at him with wonder.

His dark hair looked windswept, not unlike they way it looked in the aftermath of their lovemaking. His lips were full, yet incredibly masculine. Where they curved up ever so slightly at the corners, Lily wanted to lick with the tip of her tongue. His green eyes gleamed with promise, and Lily shivered, even wrapped in the heavy throw.

He looked uncertain as he asked, “Can I come in?”

Mute, unable to believe he had returned to her instead of going off with some Italian hottie, Lily nodded.

She backed up farther into the pillows as he joined her in the living room.

Travis sat down on the edge of the couch, and Lily finally noticed the brown paper bag he clutched in his hand. He set it down next to her novel.

“Lily,” he said, then cleared his throat, looking up toward the frescoed ceiling as if searching for the words there.

Finally, Travis turned to face her and her breath went. The truth of her feelings smacked her across the face like a wet towel, and she visibly flinched in response.

She would never be able to look at him without loving him. No matter how awful he was to her, she would always love Travis. It was her cross to bear.

“Lily,” he began again, “I know I’m not very good at this, but…” He paused again and half grinned. The smile didn’t last long, though. When it fell away, Travis looked more beaten down than ever.

Lily’s heart broke. If only there was a drug that could cure heartache.

Two a day for life and she might be able to manage.

“I acted like a complete jerk this afternoon, and I’m sorry.” His words came out in a rush.

Lily detected a hint of self-loathing behind his apology. Surely she was mistaken? She had never known anyone more confident than Travis.

At her continued silence, Travis shifted uncomfortably on the couch. “I brought a peace offering,” he said, gesturing to the brown paper bag.

Lily eyed the bag. “Let’s see it,” she croaked out of her tear-ridden throat. She sniffled once, and Travis’s eyes roved over her face.

“I made you cry.”

He reached out for her, but Lily cringed even deeper into the cushions. It was a vicious cycle: She wanted Travis to comfort her, but he was the reason she needed to be comforted in the first place.

Sick, sick, sick, she thought, vowing to be strong in the face of temptation, no matter what from then on.

He got up off the couch. “My stupid peace offering sucks. I don’t what I was thinking. I’m a jealous bastard who can’t control—”

Lily sat up. “You’re what?”

The first hint of a smile crept across Lily’s face. “And?”

“And… I can’t help it, Lily.”

“You can’t?” The smile won.

Travis shook his head and sighed. “No. I can’t. Another guy so much as looks at you, and I want to beat him senseless. Being in Italy with you has been killing me. I’m going to have to get a machine gun to deal with all of the scum I want to take down from the way they look at you.”

“Wow,” she said, hardly able to believe what Travis was saying. “You’re actually jealous.” Travis looked distinctly uncomfortable, and Lily couldn’t resist letting him live with it for a while. But not for too long.

“So how were you planning on making it up to me?”

So much for being strong in the face of temptation, she thought. But how could she resist him? Not only had she gotten an apology, but Travis had admitted that he was jealous, and he’d brought a peace offering.

Maybe everything would work out okay after all.

Travis pulled a container out of the plastic bag.

Lily shot up off the couch and grabbed the carton from him. “Chocolate gelato?” Her voice was shrill and distinctly unpleasant. Sometimes, she realized, the only thing a woman could be was a grade-A bitch.

Particularly when a man was responsible for pushing her too far.

She threw the gelato at Travis with all her might. The container split open and splattered all over him. His hair, his face, his shirt, his pants. All covered with sticky sweet, dark brown Italian ice cream.

Travis wiped away the glob of gelato above his left eye. “Lily.” he said in a placating tone, but Lily wasn’t going to listen to one more minute of his lies.

“Is this some kind of sick and twisted joke? Tell the fat girl you’re sorry, and then ply her with sugar and cream? You bastard!”

Her fists were coming at him. She wanted to hurt him as bad as he kept hurting her. She didn’t want to remember, but she couldn’t help it.

“Lily, Lily two-by-four. She can hardly fit through the door.”

It was the day before Christmas break, and the teacher had thrown the kids a party. Cakes and cookies were strewn across the back table, and even though all of the other kids had eagerly gobbled them up, Lily was too self-conscious to eat anything in front of her classmates. But the lure of chocolate ice cream was too much for any twelve-year-old to bear. She scooped out a small portion of ice cream, telling herself that no one would notice. They were too busy playing games and eating their own bowls of ice cream.

But she had been wrong.

“Lily, Lily two-by-four. She can hardly fit through the door.” She had looked up at Travis, begging him with her eyes to defend her. To tell the other kids to be quiet. But instead he just looked away and kept eating his cake.

Tears had filled her eyes as she ran into the girls’ bathroom to hide. Travis hadn’t even tried to stop them from making fun of her. He used to be her friend, but now he wasn’t anymore. And that was the worst thing of all, worse even than some kid in class calling her fat.

The memory combined with the here and now, and Lily lost control. She threw her whole body behind her attack. She was going to tear the beautiful bastard from limb to limb.

“Lily! Stop hitting me.” Travis imprisoned her wrists in his large hands. His mouth fell open, and he stopped apologizing when he saw her outfit. “What the hell do you have on?” he said, his surprise evident.

“What do you care?” she spat. “What does it matter? You can dress a cow up in fancy clothes, but she’s still a cow. Isn’t she?”