Read Online Tony: Alvarez Security Series by Maryann Jordan - Free Book Online
Authors: Maryann Jordan
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coming through the window. Wondering if it was still snowing and if she could manage to drive back to town, she quickly dismissed that idea. The last time she had peered out, the snow was already in drifts around her car.
Sighing deeply, she thought about spending the next couple of days locked in this room so that she would not have to face him. I could only wander out to go to the bathroom or to eat. Eat? The tantalizing smell of food was drifting into her room.
Anger filled her as much as hunger. This is my cabin for the time and he’s the intruder. Determined to stop hiding she moved to the door. Lifting her head, she threw open the door and marched out. It’s not the first time I’ve been hurt…and won’t be the last. I’ve been pretending for most of my twenty-six years…and this is no different. As she walked out of her room, she knew she was lying to herself.
*
Not knowing if she was going to come out that evening, Tony decided to fix some dinner just in case. He walked into the kitchen and pulled out some chicken breasts, putting them into the oven. After a while he covered them in marinara sauce and put them back in the oven. As he put some noodles in the boiling water, he heard the bedroom door opening.
Turning, his heart pounding, he looked as she walked into the living room toward the fire. Now wearing sweat pants, thick socks, and a sweatshirt, she looked…armored. Against me, no doubt.
She walked over to the fireplace, lifting her hands to the warmth. She could feel when he approached from behind, but feared turning around. Seeing the look of regret, disinterest, or worse, pity on his face terrified her no matter how strong she tried to be.
“Sherrie,” his voice called out softly. “Please look at me.”
Swallowing her pride, she turned to face him and to her surprise saw anguish. He stepped closer, not crowding, but just close enough that she could not take her eyes off of him.
“Tony, it’s okay. Really. It was silly of me to think that it would mean anyth—”
“Stop,” he ordered placing his fingers on her lips. Her lips were swollen from their kissing and as he moved his fingers over them, he felt them quiver. But then he looked into her red, puffy eyes and knew he had to make this right.
He slid his hand from her lips slowly down her arm to her hand. Taking her hand he walked toward the sofa, gently pulling her down next to him, twisting so that he could look into her face.
She went silently along with him, both curious and dreading. This is where he tells me that he doesn’t do commitment. Or I’m not his type. Or he was grossed out. Or—
“Whatever fucked-up shit’s going on in your head, please stop and listen. I need you to listen,” he pleaded.
Startled out of her musings, she just nodded.
He opened his mouth and shut it several times. Finally dropping his head, he stared at their hands, still clasped, for a moment. Man up. Time to man up.
“Sherrie, I’m not good at this.”
“At what?” she asked in confusion.
“Explaining my feelings. I try to say things and they come out all fucked up.” He looked at her, grateful that she stayed silent, giving him time to gather his words. “With my men, it’s fine. I’m comfortable in command. I plan, I strategize, I execute the mission. But emotions…it’s hard.”
Sighing, he looked into her blue eyes that seemed to see deep inside of him regardless of the barriers that he tried to erect. “I never meant that what we did was a mistake. Never. It was…” he searched for the right word and could only come up with, “special.”
Her eyes seemed to light at that word so he hoped he chose the right one. Again, she stayed still, allowing him time to think. He rubbed his coarse fingertips over her tiny hand, finding strength in the feel of her skin.
“I didn’t come here to seduce you. Or take you up against the wall, for fuck’s sake.”
She watched as his face twisted in a mix of anger and disgust.
Sighing deeply, she thought about spending the next couple of days locked in this room so that she would not have to face him. I could only wander out to go to the bathroom or to eat. Eat? The tantalizing smell of food was drifting into her room.
Anger filled her as much as hunger. This is my cabin for the time and he’s the intruder. Determined to stop hiding she moved to the door. Lifting her head, she threw open the door and marched out. It’s not the first time I’ve been hurt…and won’t be the last. I’ve been pretending for most of my twenty-six years…and this is no different. As she walked out of her room, she knew she was lying to herself.
*
Not knowing if she was going to come out that evening, Tony decided to fix some dinner just in case. He walked into the kitchen and pulled out some chicken breasts, putting them into the oven. After a while he covered them in marinara sauce and put them back in the oven. As he put some noodles in the boiling water, he heard the bedroom door opening.
Turning, his heart pounding, he looked as she walked into the living room toward the fire. Now wearing sweat pants, thick socks, and a sweatshirt, she looked…armored. Against me, no doubt.
She walked over to the fireplace, lifting her hands to the warmth. She could feel when he approached from behind, but feared turning around. Seeing the look of regret, disinterest, or worse, pity on his face terrified her no matter how strong she tried to be.
“Sherrie,” his voice called out softly. “Please look at me.”
Swallowing her pride, she turned to face him and to her surprise saw anguish. He stepped closer, not crowding, but just close enough that she could not take her eyes off of him.
“Tony, it’s okay. Really. It was silly of me to think that it would mean anyth—”
“Stop,” he ordered placing his fingers on her lips. Her lips were swollen from their kissing and as he moved his fingers over them, he felt them quiver. But then he looked into her red, puffy eyes and knew he had to make this right.
He slid his hand from her lips slowly down her arm to her hand. Taking her hand he walked toward the sofa, gently pulling her down next to him, twisting so that he could look into her face.
She went silently along with him, both curious and dreading. This is where he tells me that he doesn’t do commitment. Or I’m not his type. Or he was grossed out. Or—
“Whatever fucked-up shit’s going on in your head, please stop and listen. I need you to listen,” he pleaded.
Startled out of her musings, she just nodded.
He opened his mouth and shut it several times. Finally dropping his head, he stared at their hands, still clasped, for a moment. Man up. Time to man up.
“Sherrie, I’m not good at this.”
“At what?” she asked in confusion.
“Explaining my feelings. I try to say things and they come out all fucked up.” He looked at her, grateful that she stayed silent, giving him time to gather his words. “With my men, it’s fine. I’m comfortable in command. I plan, I strategize, I execute the mission. But emotions…it’s hard.”
Sighing, he looked into her blue eyes that seemed to see deep inside of him regardless of the barriers that he tried to erect. “I never meant that what we did was a mistake. Never. It was…” he searched for the right word and could only come up with, “special.”
Her eyes seemed to light at that word so he hoped he chose the right one. Again, she stayed still, allowing him time to think. He rubbed his coarse fingertips over her tiny hand, finding strength in the feel of her skin.
“I didn’t come here to seduce you. Or take you up against the wall, for fuck’s sake.”
She watched as his face twisted in a mix of anger and disgust.
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