Read Online Complementary Colors by Adrienne Wilder - Free Book Online Page B

could possibly find you guilty of anything else?”
    “I pled out.”
    “Why?”
    “Because seven years was better than twenty.”
    “No one would have convicted you.”
    “It was a small town. I killed someone’s son, husband, brother. He’d grown up there, I didn’t. He had friends, I was an out of towner just running a construction job. The lawyer said there was a good chance they’d find me guilty on principle alone.”
    “Should have fired him and gotten a different attorney.”
    “Public defender. I didn’t have any money to hire one in the first place.”
    So Roy went to prison when he should have been given a medal. “Seven years for saving a woman from being raped and maybe even killed?”
    “I got out on parole after three for good behavior.”
    “Doesn’t make it all right.” My spoon clanked against the bottom of the bowl.
    “Want some more?”
    “No thanks.”
    “I don’t mind.”
    If only he would. “Is that why you left Arkansas?”
    “That was the divorce.” I have no idea what he saw on my face to make him add, “I didn’t always live in a rat hole and work for money under the table. I used to have a really good business.”
    “Building houses?”
    “Sometimes. Mostly commercial buildings.”
    “And you didn’t have money for a lawyer?”
    “The ex got the business, the house, plus alimony. There wasn’t much left to live on, let alone hire a lawyer. I took the out-of-state jobs to pay the bills.”
    “If you ran a building company, why are you fixing air conditioners?”
    “Constuction companies don’t hire felons.”
    “But you still get work.”
    “Because I’m willing to work for less than anyone else and there are always folks looking to cut corners.”
    I didn’t know whether to be worried or grateful.
    Roy watched me with a kind of longing seen on the faces of people who are about to say good-bye for the last time.
    “I guess I was wrong about you,” I said.
    His smile was tight. I hated the fact he wouldn’t even try to defend himself.
    “Do you want me to call you a cab?”
    “Why? Do you want me to leave?”
    “I figured…”
    “I’d be scared of you?”
    “Like you said, you were wrong about me.”
    “Yeah, I was. You’re far more than just a good person. Someone should nominate you for sainthood.”
    Somehow his expression became even more broken.
    “That was a compliment.”
    “One I don’t deserve.”
    “Why not?”
    He went to the cabinet. “I’m out of vegetable, but I have some chicken noodle.”
    I slid off my stool and cornered him near the stove. Surviving prison with his virtue intact was the proof his wide shoulders, thick arms, powerful body were capable of delivering everything his presence led me to believe.
    Yet there he was, crushed against the counter in an attempt to get away, his pulse jumping in his neck, eyes wide, lips parted, sucking in short, panicked breaths, just because I stood close to him.
    “Are you still scared of me?” I rubbed the crotch of his blue jeans. The hard length of his cock rode across his thigh in search of escape. “Nope. Definitely not scared.”
    Roy’s incredible green eyes searched my face. He touched my cheek, ran his fingers to my jaw, followed my chin to my lips. I waited for him to kiss me. But he only stared, and touched, and stared some more. The weight of it all became too much, and I stepped away. He followed me until I was the one pinned against the counter.
    Roy slid his hands over my shoulders, down my arms, then back up to hold my face. “Stay here tonight.”
    “Why?”
    “Do I need a reason?” His chest and his thighs pressed against mine.
    “Will you fuck me again if I do?” The smile I tried to pull fell flat. Roy leaned closer. Instead of hungering for his mouth on mine, I feared it. I turned my head, and he brushed his lips against my jaw.
    “Stay the night with me, Paris.” I trembled. “Shhh—” His heated touch danced over the back of my