Unconscious Hearts Read online

  With the cats sorted, I head into my closet to switch my tight shelf dress out for something better suited for a movie date. The flowy black dress I grab hugs my chest, the swoop neck giving way for a generous cleavage display, and hits me just above the knee. Flirty, casual, and effortlessly sexy. I leave my strappy heels on, change my jewelry out for just some simple bangles, and pull my hair down from the twist I had it up in all day. When I step in front of the large mirror, I smile at myself. I might feel tired, but the excitement over seeing Thorn again tonight is enough to heat my skin with a healthy glow, making me look far from tired.

  The soft waves of my long, thick hair frame my face. Highlighting just how excited I am with a freshness that betrays working for over twelve hours on a few hours of sleep. Even with the long hem on this dress, my legs still look longer than they are thanks to the four-inch heel. Just a little gloss and I'll be ready to go.

  I grab one of my favorite shoulder bags and head back to the entry to get the purse I had carried today, then head into the kitchen to switch out my essentials. I have just finished when I hear my bell ring. Jim scurries from his dinner at the chime, and Dwight just looks up annoyed at the interruption. Clearly, the thought of continuing to eat is just too much when he feels the need to let me know I've angered him.

  "Jerk."

  My heels click against the floor, and my heart picks up speed as I walk to the door. I can see him through the decorative glass, and I lick my lips. Another dress shirt. I've come to realize I like him in all levels of dress, but this might be just as good as naked Thorn.

  "Hey," I greet when I open the door. I glance down, seeing he's rolled up the sleeves to his elbows, showing off his tattoos. The top two buttons on his collar open to show his golden, tattooed skin. Definitely second best.

  "Second best?"

  "I need to work on keeping my whispered thoughts quieter so you don't hear them." He doesn't say anything. He just stands there, and I start shifting on my feet. Oh, fine. "You in a dress shirt, like that," I continue, using his silence as him wanting me to clarify what he heard. "That's second best to my favorite version of you."

  "Your favorite version?"

  "This really is kind of embarrassing."

  "What's ahead of this?" he asks, pointing at himself.

  "Uh, naked you?"

  One of his brows goes up. His lips twitch.

  "It's not kind of embarrassing. It's definitely embarrassing."

  "Babe."

  "What?" I snap, feeling the heat of my confession on my face.

  "You can be embarrassed if you want. Shouldn't be, but you can. You forget something when you were too busy rating versions of me?"

  Now it's my turn to be confused.

  "Kiss, Ari. You see me, no matter how long, I get your mouth."

  This time when I roll my eyes, it's with a smile as I walk to him. "When you're bossy, it almost makes dress shirt you even with naked you." I press my lips against his, but pull away before he can get more than a peck. "Though, that's only if naked you has a sheet over the bottom half. Otherwise, I'm not sure anything can beat fully naked you."

  "Fucking kiss me, Ari."

  "Bossy," I smart, smiling against his mouth.

  "Stop making my cock hard."

  "I'm not doing anything," I tell him, peppering small pecks against his lips, but not deepening the kiss to give him what he wants.

  His hands rise, framing my face and stalling my movements. His eyes burn into mine, his labored breaths hot against my mouth.

  Then he kisses me.

  Not even hell could keep this evil caged any longer

  Back in the shadows where only the evilest of beings felt at home, Anger was burning hot. The heat all-consuming, turning and churning like the very acid that flowed through its veins. Anger was no match for that heat as it quickly became apparent that the very flames destroying Anger were set ablaze in order for Rage to come forward and finally take Anger's place. For good.

  Over the years, Rage had sated its needs by spending a few hours, every couple of days, drinking up the vision of the woman in black who sat a few rows ahead of the monster inside the crowded theater. The woman never saw Rage, but Rage was always there. Waiting.

  The same shadows that were licking her skin this very moment were the ones that kept Rage fed and sated. After all, Rage was something born of pure evil, living on the fears and pain only something so dreadful could create.

  It's a shame that Anger wasn't stronger because Rage had a thirst to play. The devil started to reach forward, the desperation to claw the woman in black to shreds with its claws erupting from deep within.

  She would feel pain, Rage vowed.

  She would regret the years Rage had been kept from what it needed to keep the devil happy.

  Just when Rage was about to lash out, the veil clouding Rage's vision cleared for the briefest of moments. That's when Rage saw the man at the woman's side. The man's arm, what Rage was focusing on, as it held the woman was unknowingly the only thing protecting the woman from Rage's desperation.

  For now.

  The cloak of darkness kept Rage hidden as the devil retracted its claws. The wickedness only roiling faster through Rage, coating the air in sticky putridness.

  Rage blinked, the red haze not dimming in the slightest.

  How dare the woman leave the void of nothingness that Anger had make sure she never forgot, Rage thought, bitterness joining in the poisonous vat of hate deep within Rage's belly.

  This wouldn't do.

  Rage had allowed Anger to become complacent. Complacency, it would seem, had allowed the woman in black to betray the shell of herself Anger had crafted. Though, it was clear Anger had been weak because had Rage been allowed to surface before now, the woman would know better than to step out from where she belonged--in the dungeon of Despair, waiting for the beast to come claim her soul.

  Rage knew one thing; the woman wouldn't forget her place next time.

  Rage would make sure of it.

  At least Anger had done one thing right over the years. Anger had ensured that Rage would never have to worry about the woman in black and the pesky annoyance that had been Grief becoming more than they were. The woman in black may have found a temporary break from her void of nothing, but Grief would never be that lucky. For Grief hadn't done the job right. Anger had made sure Grief paid.

  Rage would then be able to put the woman in black back where she belonged. Then it would be her who felt nothing but Grief for as long as Rage allowed her lungs the air they needed.

  After all, the man at her side wouldn't always be there.

  As new plans started to ink themselves in Rage's mind, the sinister smile formed on the mouth of the beast.

  Not even hell could keep this evil caged any longer.

  You do it breathing easy

  My alarm blares, and I reach out blindly to shut it off, dropping my hand when I reach the distance I've all but committed to muscle memory. Only, instead of my alarm silencing, I get a grunt of pain.

  I jerk up, hearing another grunt, only deeper sounding.

  "Watch the elbow," Thorn's sleep-thickened voice gasps, and I lift my arm up from his belly. "Christ."

  "Sorry," I mumble, carefully climbing over his body--his deliciously void of clothes body--to turn off my alarm.

  "Why the hell is your alarm set for seven in the morning on a Sunday?"

  I lift the strap of my nightie and shrug. "I don't like to waste the day."

  "You don't like to waste the day?" he echoes, looking at me as if I am all kinds of insane.

  I blink back the sleep and roll my eyes.

  "That's what I said."

  His eyes crinkle at the corners, and he reaches up to pull me back into his arms, settling us back in bed. I sigh, the warmth of his skin soaking into mine. God, I could really get used to waking up like this.

  "Not seeing how a day in bed with you is a waste."

  I don't respond, but I silently agree.
His breathing starts to even out, and I relax more into him, the arm around my body giving me a small squeeze. Still sleepy, I blink toward my window, but I know it will be impossible to go back to sleep. The early morning sun peeks through the crack in my dark curtains, supporting my internal alarm that seems to just know when I'm wasting time lying around. Now, I know I'm the one responsible for setting the cycle of getting up with the sun, but come on! How can I be punished for never sleeping in for years when I've got this man in my bed?

  My mind, wide-awake, starts thinking about the many ways I could stay in this bed and still not waste the day away. Oh, no ... it would definitely not be a waste. Now, if anyone is to blame for the turn of my thoughts, it's Thorn.

  It's been two weeks of the day by day with this man, and aside from the most delicious kisses and learning each other's bodies without losing our clothes, he hasn't done anything to move things further.

  I know why he hasn't made the move to go past that.

  And I know I have no reason to hold back from giving him my more. Not when he's shown me on every one of these day by days what he wants from me--more ... everything.

  We might not have gotten deep, deep in getting to know each other's pain, but aside from both of our pasts, in the course of our two weeks together, we've opened up a lot. I know he hates anything but cheese on his pizza. He doesn't mind sitting through ER but can't stand One Tree Hill. He thinks the guys are pussies and the girls have more drama than are worth the trouble of having. That might have been our first fight; though, that's about the only thing we've disagreed on.

  Last night, I introduced him to my favorite British trash show, Geordie Shore.

  I lost the remote control privileges after one episode. I didn't mind too much because when he lifted the remote from my hand and turned off the television, his mouth was on mine, and the rest of the night was history.

  Delicious history that ended with us getting further than we had since the night I begged for him.

  "Your mind is louder than that fucking alarm was," Thorn grumbles, and I smile against his chest, squeezing the arm I have draped across his stomach.

  "What happens next?" I question, not giving myself a chance to wuss out.

  "Next? Figured I would take a piss and see if you had a toothbrush I could use."

  "I didn't mean this morning. I mean with our day by day."

  His chest shakes, moving me with his silent laughter as small rumbles vibrate from his chest. He's enjoying my awkwardness, but I don't mind. I know he isn't laughing at me, and to be fair, I like that I can make a man as hard as Thorn is let loose.

  He pats my ass and starts to move out from under me, done with his hilarity. However, I'm rendered thought-drunk when the sheet is flung off him, he climbs out of the bed, and all I can focus on is his naked backside.

  Is there any inch of him that isn't perfectly made? I'm pretty sure there isn't.

  With each step toward my bathroom, his cheeks flex and harden. I can see the heaviness of him between the gap of his legs as he walks, and I press my hand against the mattress to lift myself off for a better view. It was dark last night when he shed his clothes for bed, keeping me from getting a good view of his penis. I lose my show of him when he enters the bathroom and fall back on the bed with a sigh.

  Day by day is pretty darn perfect when it starts with a wake-up like this.

  I hear him moving in the bathroom, the toilet flushing, cabinets opening and shutting, and the water running. I keep my eyes on the ceiling and listen to him, knowing deep down that I don't think I can see ever getting sick of this feeling. I was so focused on my thoughts that I almost jump out of my skin when Dwight leaps on the bed.

  "Good morning, Dwight," I coo, reaching out to pet him, drunk off Thorn thoughts and forgetting the little ginger is an evil jerk.

  He swipes his paw at my hand and glares at me. He's going to murder me in my sleep one of these nights. I'm convinced that is what he's planning when I get those eyes from him.

  A soft meow comes from the ground, and I ignore Dwight's evil hisses to lean past him and look down over the edge at Jim's green eyes blinking up at me from the floor. Now, where I swear Dwight can glare, I swear Jim can smile.

  "Hello, handsome," I sing to him, picking him up and curling him in my arm.

  Jim purrs loudly, loving my scratches.

  Dwight hisses. I narrow my eyes at him and stick out my tongue.

  When Thorn steps out of the bathroom, unfortunately with his black briefs covering him up, Dwight looks away from me and studies his next victim of the morning. Thorn's spent a few nights at my place, but we've spent a lot of our time at his place. In the times that we've been here, both cats have been oddly absent.

  Thorn eyes both cats, then walks over to sit on the edge of the bed. Dwight, the little jerk, struts his ginger butt over to Thorn and rubs against his side. The second Thorn places his giant hand against the grumpy beast, I hear a loud purr come from him.

  "You have to be kidding me," I gasp. Jim twists in my arm, then jumps from my hold and goes to see what Dwight's so excited about that he's purring--something that never happens. Only the minute he gets close enough, Dwight euphoria slips, and he shows his true colors again by swatting the little guy to the floor.

  "I swear, I'm going to take you to the vet and have your balls removed," I grumble again, bending over the edge to pick Jim back up. "Dwight's sorry, Jimmy baby. He's just a big evil jealous jerk."

  "You named your cats after The Office?"

  My cheeks heat, but I ignore it. "So what if I did?"

  "Cute," he mumbles with a small smile on his delicious lips, still scratching Dwight.

  "He doesn't like anyone," I tell Thorn, nodding at the cat sucking up his attention and trying not to be jealous of my evil beast.

  "I'm not just anyone."

  My cheeks burn again, this time not from embarrassment.

  "Do you need to feed them?" Thorn asks.

  "Yeah." I start to toss the covers off my lap, scooting to the other side and leaving the warmth our bodies had created. I get both feet on the floor and stop when I hear a low growl coming from Thorn. Looking over my shoulder at him, I find his gaze no longer on Dwight, who is very aware that he's lost his new slave, and instead directly on my legs. "What?"

  "It was dark last night. Didn't see how short that thing was. But I also didn't have a window telling me how see-through it was either." He takes his time gliding his eyes up my body to my face, the burn of his perusal lighting a fire across my body. "Should probably go feed your cats before they miss their breakfast."

  I jump, then hurry through the house to the kitchen. Getting two bowls down, I arrange their separate meals in each. Dwight comes trotting in when the sound of his food echoes through the house, wearing a smug look on his face now that his human slave has given him a new peasant and is preparing his feast.

  Jim, still learning the sounds of his meals but more determined to follow the larger cat around, is hot on his trail. I wait for each cat to settle into their breakfast before turning and walking back down the hallway to my room.

  Thorn is back in bed when I enter the room, the sheet covering his lap and his back against my large fabric headboard. His eyes track my body as I move around to the empty side and lift the sheet to climb back in bed. He lifts his arm, making room for me, and circles it around my shoulder the second I get close, pulling me into his warmth.

  "Day by day?" he rumbles against my ear.

  "I like our day by day, but I'm ready to give you my more, Thorn," I admit, needing him to understand without words what I'm stumbling to voice.

  "You're finally catching up with me," he oddly says.

  "What?" I shift, looking up at him from my position against his side, head on his shoulder.

  He glances down and winks--freaking winks. Who is this man I've woken up to?

  "I'm sorry I left," I tell him, for what is probably the thousandth time.

  "I know, Ari. Worke
d out in the end so stop beating yourself up about it."

  I start swirling my finger around his abs, tracing lazy outlines against the deeply defined muscles. My tracks only veering off to trace the occasional tattoo line that intersects a few of them.

  "I'm really sorry."

  He grunts, tightening his arm, but otherwise remains silent.

  "I know I've said it before. I know you don't hold it against me, but I know you still have been waiting for me to tell you why I ran."

  "I'm a patient man."

  This time, it's me who laughs. "You're many things Thorn Evans, but patient is not one of them."

  "You'd be surprised."

  I know what he means. As much as I would love to discuss the sex I wish we were having, I need to get this out.

  "I wasn't in a good place. Even if I had stayed until you woke up, it would have just ended the same." I get a reaction then. He moves us, lifting and adjusting me until I'm sitting in his lap. His hands drop from my hips to rest on each thigh, spread wide to accommodate the man between then.

  "Give it to me, baby," he rumbles, eyes searching. It isn't lost on me that he instinctively moved me closer when it became clear where this conversation was leading us.

  "I was already kind of freaking out when I woke up. As you know, you were the first man I had been intimate with in a long time. I didn't know what would happen after how intense our night was, and to be honest, I think I was afraid you would wake up and act like it meant nothing when it felt like everything to me."

  His eyes dilate, and his chest moves quicker as his breathing speeds up slightly.

  "I was in the middle of finding my clothes when my phone rang. Not wanting to wake you up, I answered without looking to see who was calling." I look at his lips and pause when I see them press thin. I take a deep breath, look back into his eyes, and continue. "My sister is one caller I haven't actually accepted a call from in five years or so, and well, she had a lot to say. Things that she normally leaves on my answer machines and I delete before I hear too much. I think it was the shock of accidentally answering that made me unable to hang up. She brought up a lot of stuff I had been feeling the pain of since our parents died ... and things that happened during the days surrounding their death. The point is, I was already running scared of my feelings before she called. I don't know what would have happened had I stayed, but I know if you would have seen me after she called, it wouldn't have been pretty."