The touch of her fingers on my cock feels heavenly. I grit my teeth to hold back the burn of orgasm. Now that I have her in my clutches, I’m going to make up for all the time we’ve lost. The old feelings rush back. Past and present merge into one pleasant blur.
“Cam, please. Wait a second.” Unshed tears glimmer in her eyes.
“Did I hurt you?” I try to pull back, but she shakes her head.
“No, I’m fine. It’s just— I’ve only been with Giles since you, and it’s been awhile. We didn’t— We stopped having sex a long time ago.” She presses her lips together and looks away, like she’s embarrassed.
“It’s okay. Vanessa, look at me.” I tilt her chin toward my face and wait for her to make eye contact. My pulse stutters. This is the Vanessa I loved, the girl who ran away with my heart. I press soft kisses to her forehead, temples, and the tip of her nose. “I won’t hurt you.”
“Well, you can hurt me a little.” A glimmer of humor tilts her lips.
Her hips lift, and I slide home in one slow, torturous thrust. Pleasure prickles along the backs of my legs, down my spine, and into my groin. Our bodies pick up a smooth rhythm. It’s like we’ve never been apart, yet everything is different.
I’m lost in her smooth skin, the softness of her breasts. Time stills and reverses, taking us back to where we began. Moans fill the air. The headboard thuds against the wall—once, twice, three times.
“I never loved him the way I loved you,” she whispers. The glide of her lips over my ear unleashes the last of my restraint. “You were the love of my life. My only love.”
The confession tears away the years of anger. I push deeper inside her, rolling my hips. We kiss and nip at each other. My legs tangle with hers, our fingers entwine. Lust morphs into passion and blends with the bittersweet tang of broken dreams.
“I came after you.” Release teases along my thighs. “I went to California to find you, but you were already married.”
“I’m so sorry, Cam.” She takes my face in her hands and presses the sweetest of kisses to my lips. I come with a shudder. It’s better than any drug and twice as addictive. She cries out, chasing her own orgasm. Her muscles pulse and flutter around my cock, drawing out the pleasure.
Long after we’re done, we cling to each other in the darkness, afraid to move, to spoil the moment. Morning will come in a few hours, and we’ll go back to our separate lives. I stroke her hair, thinking of what might have been, while she snuggles into my shoulder.
30
Vanessa
Today
As soon as Cam falls asleep, I tiptoe back to my room. The first thing to catch my eye is the photograph of the kids from my office. I hang my head in shame. How did I let this situation get out of hand? For years, I’ve been running away from my problems. In the process, I’ve hurt innocent people; Giles, Gaston, and Cam.
I stare at Gaston’s beautiful blue eyes, their thick lashes, his skin bronzed by the sun. He deserves to know his real father. Cam isn’t the monster I made him out to be. He’s flawed and unconventional, but he’s also a survivor. With all the odds stacked against him, he managed to turn his disadvantages into assets and make a success of himself. Deep down, he’s a good person.
The strength ebbs from my knees. My thighs burn, reminding me of all the naughty things he did to me. Tomorrow, I’m going to have a wicked hangover, but it’s nothing compared to the ache in my chest. I sink into the nearest chair and close my eyes. I’ve been living a lie for so long that I’m not sure how to be honest anymore. Giles went along with the charade, claiming Gaston as his own, treating him better than I dreamed possible. He made it easy to forget the truth. After a while, I became comfortable with the deception. It was easier to float through life in a bubble of denial than admit my mistakes and deal with the steps to make things right.
I have no idea how Cam will take the news that he has a twelve-year old son, but he deserves to know. Fate robbed him of his mother and sister. Now, I’ve denied him access to his son. I have to tell him.
By this time, it’s almost morning. Dawn streaks across the eastern sky. Pink light glints off the cityscape. An odd calm washes through me.
Armed with the framed photograph and my iPad, I walk across the hall and tap on Cam’s door. Anxiety unfurls butterflies in my stomach, but I’m confident in my plan. When he opens the door, my carefully planned words evaporate on my tongue. He’s shirtless, wearing only a pair of black boxer briefs, his hair rumpled from my fingers. The muscles below my waist clench at the sight of his toned abs. I thought one night with him would be enough, but I was wrong. I’ll never get enough of him. Never.
“Can we talk?” I ask, fighting away the tremor in my voice.
“Now?” His voice is rough with sleep, deep and sexy. He lifts a black eyebrow.
“Yes.”
“Only if you come back to bed.” His eyes darken, and his gaze falls to my lips. One corner of his mouth curls upward in a sinful smirk. He steps to the side, allowing me to pass.
“I need to show you something.”
“That sounds promising.” One of his hands grazes my bottom as he falls into step behind me.
“I’m serious, Cam.” I veer to the right, toward the living room, away from the bedroom, and point to the sofa. “Sit. Please.”
“Okay.” He tries to hold my hand, but I shake my head and take a seat next to him. “I’m intrigued.”
“You’re not going to like it.” The smile slips from his lips. He nods and moves to the edge of his seat. “But I need to tell you something. Something important.”
“Then spit it out, Seaforth, so we can go back to bed.”
I draw in a deep breath to fortify my courage. “I want to talk about what happened between us back—back then. I think if we had just sat down and talked, things might have turned out very differently for both of us.” He nods, staring into my eyes, giving me his complete attention. “I’m going to be completely honest with you, and I want you to do the same.”
“Not even a question.” With his left hand, he tugs a loose strand of hair behind my ear. The casual contact sends a shiver along my neck. “You first.”
“When I found out about the other women, it made me crazy. I was hurt.” A lump thickens in my throat as all the old feelings come tumbling back. “I want to understand why you did it—slept with them, I mean.”
His gaze drops to the floor. He rests his forearms on his thighs and clasps his hands between his knees. When he looks up again, remorse deepens the lines around his mouth. “The first time was by accident. I hooked up with an older woman at a university function. The next morning, she left a couple of hundreds on the nightstand. A few weeks later, she introduced me to one of her friends. They were rich, powerful women with too much time on their hands. I was young and broke and their cash offered a way out of my situation. Before long, I was rubbing elbows with the elite, making connections. It was easy money. I liked the lifestyle. After living in the projects, I felt like I’d won the lottery.” He rubs a finger along his upper lip and stares out the window, brows lowering. “You don’t know what it was like to be me back then, Vanessa. I was an outcast. My mom was black, my dad was a murderer, and I was poor. Three strikes. I had nothing and no one and no way to get out of my situation except with my body and my brain.”
My chest aches for him and the injustices he’s endured. Although I don’t agree with his choices, I can’t fault his desperation for change. I place a hand on his knee and squeeze.
“Once you came to New York, I quit. You were the only one for me.” The bass in his voice rattles my soul. His hand covers mine. “I did what I had to do. I’m not going to apologize for it. But I’m sorry about not telling you right away. And I apologize for hurting you. It’s the last thing I ever wanted.”
Catching my chin between his thumb and index finger, he tilts my face up to his. My heart melts at the sincerity in his eyes. “I understand. And you’re forgiven. For all of it.”
“Thank you.” He brushes his lips softly across mine. The tender touch means more than his words.
“And I owe you an apology. Several, in fact.” I cup a palm over the curve of his cheek, knowing this could be the last time he ever speaks to me.
“Excellent.” He relaxes into the cushions, throws both arms along the back of the sofa, and rests his ankle on the opposite knee. His eyes twinkle with humor. “I’ve been waiting for this.”
He’s teasing, but the gravity of the situation sparks the sting of tears. I blink them back. He’s never going to understand.
“I should have let you explain. I’m not sure it would have changed things, but I was wrong to run away, and I apologize.”
He twirls a finger in the air, trying to lend levity to the situation. “Keep going. I want to know why you married Giles.”
“Love was never part of the equation. Affection and respect—yes.” I pause to collect the right words. “And my heart was broken when I met him. I didn’t want to deal with love or any of the complications that came with it. We got along great. He let me do what I wanted. Most of the time, we lived apart.” Looking back, I think Giles recognized our incompatibility but was too enamored with the benefits of the Seaforth name to point it out. “After Gaston was born, I took him to Stanford with me and finished my MBA while Giles lived in Germany.”
“I would never have let you out of my sight,” Cam says. “Not for a minute.”
“He had other women. I knew about them, but he was very discreet. And how could I complain when I was in love with someone else? It seemed too hypocritical.” The parallel between my parents’ marriage and mine is embarrassing. I followed in their footsteps, married for convenience and status. Those were long, lonely years. I don’t want to dwell on them or go into the sordid details. Giles is still Lisle’s father, and I feel a sense of obligation to maintain his reputation.
“It didn’t have to be like that,” he says. A muscle twitches in his cheek. He’s getting angry, and I can’t blame him. “And what about you? Were you faithful?”
“I’ve done a lot of things wrong, but I never broke my wedding vows. When I make a promise, I keep it.” I can’t look at him, so I stare at the painting across the room.
“But you didn’t think twice about breaking your promises to me.” When I glance up at his face, the color of his eyes mutates into a stormy gray, reminding me of a churning ocean.
“We were young, Cam. I was nineteen. It’s not an excuse, just the truth. And there were—extenuating circumstances.” Blood thunders through my ears. It’s now or never. I place the photograph in his lap.
He stares at the picture, confusion furrowing his brow. “Your kids?”
“Yes.” I hold my breath as he drags a finger over Gaston’s image.
“How old are they?”
Spots swim in front of my eyes. My lungs burn. I draw in a breath and the anxiety eases a little. “Lisle’s six, and Gaston will be twelve in January.”
Silence roars through the room. Cam swallows. Behind the blue of his eyes, his sharp mind calculates the months between our last encounter and Gaston’s birth. The long muscles of his throat constrict. I hate myself for what I’ve done to him. This is my punishment, to watch his pain.
“He looks like me.” His voice is rasping, raw with emotion. I nod, unable to speak. His fingers tremble as he traces the shape of Gaston’s face. “You kept this from me? My son?”
“After—after us, I went to Paris for a break, to get my head together. When I found out I was pregnant, I lost it.” Tears blur my vision. I swipe them away with the back of my hand. “The thought of raising a baby was too much for me to handle. Giles helped me get back on track. I owe him a lot.”
“I would have helped you.” Anger vibrates beneath the calm of his exterior. “You should have told me. I had a right to know.”
“Yes. You did. And I’m sorry for keeping it from you.” My insides began to quake so violently I’m not sure if I can remain sitting. I grip the armrest with desperate fingers. “Be honest, Cam. Were you ready to raise a child? How could I be sure you wanted me and not my money? After I saw my name in that book, I couldn’t be sure.”
His chest rises and falls with each deep breath, but his gaze remains frozen on Gaston’s picture.
31
Cam
Today
The boy’s face floats in front of me. I blink once—twice—unable to believe what I’m seeing. I have a child, a son who looks just like me. Same dark curly hair, intense blue eyes, and straight nose. I stare until my eyes burn, but I can’t look away.
My son.
“Does he know?” I don’t recognize the voice speaking, but it’s mine.
“Not yet.” Vanessa’s face is pale, her eyes bright with unshed tears. “He’s very smart, at the top of his class. It’s just a matter of time before he suspects.”
“Why now?” My mind can’t wrap around this revelation. “Is this a ploy to make me stay in Seaforth Media? Do you want money?” In my experience, people are motivated by only two things: sex and money. We’ve already had sex—mind-blowing, marathon sex, so it must be the latter.
She yanks the picture from my hands. “I don’t want anything from you. You don’t have to be involved in his life. I just want to make things right.” Her shoulders droop as she smooths a hand over the photograph. “Being with you last night reminded me of how good we were together, of what you meant to me. We did an incredible thing, Cam. We made a baby.” The tip of her tongue swipes along the curve of her lower lip. “What you do with the information is your decision.”
The enormity of the situation is too much. I stand and pace the length of the room a few times. Vanessa sits on the sofa, still in my dress shirt, watching me with round eyes. Her hair spills around her shoulders in wild disarray, tangled by our lovemaking. Part of me wants to crush her in my arms; the rest of me wants to shake her until her teeth rattle. How could she do something like this?
I shove both hands through my hair. The ends fall to my shoulders. I need a haircut but don’t have the time. Near the fireplace, I pause then turn to stare at Vanessa. She folds her hands in her lap, face pale with worry. Without makeup, she looks much younger, like the girl I knew and loved.
“I didn’t have to tell you,” she says. “We can have a paternity test, if you want.”
“Why? He looks just like me,” I say, feeling the stir of anger again.
“Don’t you think I know that?” Her voice rises. She gets to her feet. “I’ve had to look at him every day for the last eleven years and see your face. Even if I wanted to forget you, I couldn’t because you’ve been with me the whole time.”
“You’ve had him for eleven years, and I’ve had—nothing.” The waste of time burns in my gut. I’ve missed everything: first steps, first words, teaching him how to throw a ball, his smiles. Until this moment, I had no idea how much those things mattered to me. My father was a stranger to me. I don’t want my son to share the same fate.
“I can’t give you back the past, but I can give you the future.” She extends the iPad. “I have all of his pictures on here. I know it isn’t the same, but…”
The sense of loss is too overwhelming. I can’t look at her without wanting to fly into a rage or break something. I’ve lost so many people in my life, been betrayed by the people who should have protected me, and this is just one more event to add to the list. Long forgotten insecurities pop to the surface, shattering my confidence. Suddenly and without warning, I’m back where I started, the boy from the wrong side of the tracks, the murderer’s son, the half-breed.
“I think you should go.”
“Okay.” Her gaze falls to the floor, her voice soft with disappointment. “I understand.” She gathers the photo and iPad, tucking them under her arm, then walks to the door. With one hand on the doorknob, she speaks without turning around. “You’re not a bad person, Cam. And this isn’t your fault.”
Once she’s gone, I don’t know wh
ether to drink myself into a stupor or go for a marathon run. I opt for the later, using the avenues of the city to work away my frustration. My feet pound on the pavement, block after block, street after street. The sidewalks are empty, storefronts still closed. I run until my lungs ache and my muscles scream for mercy. When I can’t run any longer, I return to the hotel, shower then head to the office. It’s the only place where I feel safe, where I’m completely in control.
I move out of the hotel and into my unfinished apartment. A week goes by without word from Vanessa. Tristan brings papers to my office detailing the dissolution of the Seaforth Media partnership. They sit unsigned on the corner of my desk. If I write my name on the dotted line, she’ll be out of my life for good and Gaston along with her. Reality sinks in when Sam Seaforth arrives unannounced a few minutes before lunch on the following Tuesday. I toy with the idea of sending him away but change my mind at the last minute.
“Send him in,” I tell my assistant. “Hold all my calls until we’re through.” More than likely, this meeting will be brief and unpleasant. Once it’s over, I can dust my hands of the Seaforth clan. I steel my nerves for the upcoming attack. Sam and I have butted heads on more than a few occasions. He’s a savvy businessman and a worthy opponent.
He strides through the sliding glass doors, looking like he just stepped off the pages of GQ. His pretty boy good looks don’t fool me. I’ve seen him decimate stronger men than me in the boardroom without breaking a sweat. I stand and offer a hand in greeting. “Sam.”
“Blackwood.” His eyes are green ice, his tone cool.
“Have a seat.” I nod to the chair across from my desk. He unbuttons his jacket and takes a seat. “What can I do for you?”
“I’m here unofficially. We need to talk.” His jaw tightens, making me uneasy.
Vote Then Read: Volume I Page 102