Chapter 7

April

It takes me a while to come back to earth. It really feels like I've been shot into space and floated around on a cloud for a while. I can't believe I thought the deal he offered me was going to end in letting him kiss me for an hour, then having him take me home. I was so grateful he was being so kind, but despite his amazing, muscular body and almost otherworldly face, I didn't think I'd be giving up my virginity tonight. His offer seemed much too good to be true.

It was too good to be true. What Michael made me feel, I mean. His hands, his mouth, the way his strong body dominated mine—I don't even think it took an hour before I was begging him to claim what he'd won. If he stopped, had been the angel I mistook him for, it might have killed me. I'm just glad he kept going. This night could have been so much worse, but there's no way it could have been better.

I went from thinking I wanted him to take me home to lying here now, dreading when he will. It's not just dread of facing Uncle Harris, it's not wanting to leave Michael. The only reason I don't want to stay much longer is because I'm starting to get worried about Amelia.

He doesn't seem to be in any hurry to get rid of me, even though he's gotten what he wanted. In fact, he seems perfectly relaxed and happy as he pulls me against his chest and wraps his arm around me. He wants to know all about me, but there's not that much to tell. My life has been pretty pathetic, and there's not much I want him to know.

But he pulls it out of me, just the way he drew out my passion. Before I know it, I've told him about being forced into being an accomplice in Uncle Harris's petty thieving ring. The only thing I hold back on is how mean Uncle Harris can get sometimes because I don't want to see pity in Michael's eyes. I couldn't stand it.

"I've never actually stolen anything," I tell him, wishing I could take it all back because his hand has stopped stroking my arm. "I just do what he tells me to. Clean the stuff up, take it apart…" I don't tell him why I haven't run away from such a shameful life; not sure I can trust him to know about Amelia having to live the same way.

"You have nothing to be ashamed of," he tells me gruffly. "You're trying to survive."

I roll over and rest my elbows on his chest, searching his handsome face. My breasts press against him and he wraps an arm around me, drawing me down for a slow, steamy kiss. I pull back, not about to be distracted.

"Your turn now," I say. "Tell me all about you." When his brow furrows, I feel shy. "I mean, whatever you want to tell me. If anything..."

His slow smile melts my heart and I feel the answering tug between my thighs that makes me press closer to him. "It's not that exciting," he says, then ends up enthralling me with his life story.

He enlisted in the Army from the time he finished high school, stationed in Europe for most of his time in the service. He fell in love with France and made a bunch of friends there, traveling by motorcycle from one side to the other, from the English Channel all the way down to Spain. His aunt left him a moderate inheritance when he got out of the military, and then at that part of the story, his voice trails off and his eyes become unfocused, as if he's thinking about something far away.

"What then?" I ask.

He shakes his head. "I've just been working at The Black Door since then," he said, though I suspect there's more.

Ah, I get it. At least I think I do. I must be where the inheritance ended up. Does he regret it? He pulls me close for another soul-stirring kiss and the worry vanishes. It doesn't matter in the long run, because the sun is now peeking through the windows. We've spent the whole night wrapped in each other's arms, kissing and touching and talking, and he still doesn't seem in any hurry to let me go.

It's Saturday, which means Amelia has no school, no safe place to be all day if I'm not there. "I should go home," I say anxiously.

His grasp around me tightens. "You don't ever have to go back to that asshole again, April."

My first reaction is panic. Will he keep me here? Then I feel pissed off at Uncle Harris. He truly ruins everything. I hold myself stiff in Michael's arms, trying to find a way to explain without letting on how bad things really are at home.

"What's making you look so hesitant?" he asks. The kindness in his voice makes me relax, but just a little. He nuzzles my neck, kissing his way up my jaw to swipe his tongue across my lower lip while one of his hands works its way down my back. "Do I need to convince you some more? How about giving me another hour, little one?"

I love his teasing, and I definitely want more, but my worry for Amelia won't let me truly relax again. "Unless you're going to keep me hostage here, I have to get home," I say, thrusting out my chin and trying to pretend his roaming hands aren't melting my resolve by the second.

He rolls me to the side, tracing the faded old bruises along my rib cage with his fingertips. "I can't let you go back to that," he tells me.

I push his hand away. "Those are from tripping on the stairs and ramming into the banister at my apartment," I say, not meeting his eyes.

"April," he says, soft but firm. He doesn't believe me.

"He's not that bad," I tell him. "Now are you the angel I believe you to be, or are you a devil who'd keep me here against my will?"

He frowns, then kisses me until I swoon against him, dizzy even though I'm lying down. Just when I'm about to forget everything in my life but what he's doing to me, he pulls away and sits up, reaching for his shirt.

"Come on, then. Get dressed." He grins, looking at my tattered underwear in pieces across the room. "I'll get you something. Hang on."

He brings me some running pants and the sweatshirt I wore last night. I have to roll the waistband half a dozen times to keep them from falling down. I wonder how I'll explain the strange outfit to Amelia when I left in a sweater and skirt; which must still be in the dressing room at the club.

We're quiet on the drive back to my apartment, but it's not an uncomfortable silence. I just don't know what's left to say. As he pulls up in front of my building, I get out and stand on the stoop, watching as he slowly drives away. Is he waiting for me to run after him, or is that wishful thinking? I certainly want to.

As his car rounds the corner and disappears, it feels like the last bit of happiness I was so graciously offered is disappearing along with him. I don't want to relegate last night to just a memory, but that's all it can ever be. A perfect, wonderful memory.

I hope to get inside and change my clothes before anyone notices I'm back, but Uncle Harris is already awake, brewing coffee in the tiny kitchen. He's in a great mood. Too good. His smile is more like a lion baring its teeth when he turns to me.

"I take it the auction money's already in your account?" I ask, keeping my tone from sounding as bitter as I feel. If I could get my hands on even a tenth of that money, Amelia and I could run and never look back.

"It is, indeed," he crows. "And it was such a success I'm already working on another one. This time we won't go through the club though, so I can keep all the earnings. The clientele won't be as upscale, and you're used goods now, but you'll still make plenty."

I have to stare at the tattered rug on the floor so he doesn't see the hatred I feel for him. I really think I could kill him then and there, but then what would happen to Amelia after I went to prison? I don't say a word as I somehow get to my room without lashing out at him in utter fury. Amelia is sitting up on her bed in her outgrown princess pajamas with a book on her lap. I wonder if she slept at all last night or stayed up worrying about me.

She looks over my strange attire while I force a smile and tell her I'll play a video game with her as soon as I'm done showering. I don't want to erase the feel and scent of Michael from my body, but it's an excuse to lock myself in the bathroom and away from her questioning eyes. I make it until the water is blasting noisily from the shower jets before breaking down into uncontrollable sobs.