by Shel Stone
“I know. I’m sorry. I lost my temper.”
Mont walked past her, not even saying anything. Everyone was quiet as he walked out the door. Cecily stood with her hand on her mouth. Adrian stood watching her, probably pleased as punch if she dared look. “Fuck you,” she said to Adrian and then rushed after Mont.
It was briskly cold outside. “Mont,” she called, seeing him ahead. “Please stop.”
Abruptly, he stopped. “I’m not getting involved with this shit,” he said. There was an awkward silence. It was snowing. Flakes meandered down to the ground, melting on contact. “Have you been with him?”
“Not since you and me.”
“After the tape. Have you been with him after what he did?”
Biting her lip, Cecily couldn’t bring herself to answer, or to lie.
“Does that not seem kind of screwy to you?” he asked.
What excuse did she have? It had just happened—which sounded like the lamest excuse ever.
“Like I said, maybe you need to sort your shit out. And don’t say it’s just him, because that’s not true. I’m not fucking blind, and I have no tolerance for this bullshit.” He made a cutting gesture with his hand and then he walked away. Cecily knew there was no point going after him—he’d made his mind up and he wasn’t going to look back.
Chapter 40
WHEN SHE SPOTTED him, Cecily marched over and shoved him. “You dick,” she accused. There were tears in her eyes.
“You think he wouldn’t eventually find out?” He dodged a swipe at him and grabbed her wrist before she managed to connect. “As much as you try, you can’t manage to hide that there is something between us.”
“No, there’s not.”
“Now whose lying?” Winding her arms around her, he walked her away from the bar, her still struggling.
“You professing you love me doesn’t constitute a thing.”
“Yeah? Well, I kissed you on the cheek and you gave the game away.”
“This isn’t a fucking game.”
“Isn’t it?”
Pulling keys out of his pocket, he unlocked Seb’s car, which was parked fifty yards down. Seb had taken it because he wanted to go to Brooklyn to see some girl, but was now too drunk to drive. Adrian might be cutting it fine too, but he felt completely sober.
“I’m not going anywhere with you,” she said.
“Oh yeah? You want to go back to the bar and explain all that?”
The expression in her face showed the truth. It didn’t matter, he wasn’t going to let her walk away. “Your coat’s back at the bar, so either go back in there to all those awkward stares and silences, or get in.” In fact, he shoved her in and closed the door, quickly stepping around to the driver’s side before she decided to be stupid out of spite.
The engine roared to life and he pulled out quickly. Cecily was crying and he hated it. Not enough to free her of his company. Certainly not enough to be sorry Monty was fucking out of the picture. It would never have worked. Even if she had managed to keep the act up, Monty would have found some reason to tear her down in his ever-ongoing search for perfection. “You have shit taste in guys,” he said with a chuckle.
“That has become abundantly clear. You were the biggest mistake I ever made. How does it feel to know you were someone’s biggest mistake?”
“Goes both ways. I was a relatively happy person before you came along.”
“I don’t think you understand the meaning of the word.”
Oh, he knew. It was the difference between having her in his presence or not. A really easy distinction. Then again, it might not be happiness, but it sure as hell was compelling.
“Where are you taking me?” she asked.
“The Hamptons.”
“The Hamptons?” she said incredulously.
“We need to talk.”
“You’re literally kidnapping me. There is a limit to how much your dad can cover up for you.”
“Don’t bring my dad into this. Here, take the keys,” he said, chucking them over to her. “It’s a keyless ignition and it will start for whoever has the key.”
“I can’t drive, you dick.”
“What do you mean you can’t drive? How are you supposed to get away if an ex kidnaps you? Were you raised so insular you can’t even get yourself around?”
“Basically.”
“That’s fucked up. I’ll teach you to drive.”
“I don’t need you to teach me to drive. I wouldn’t trust you to teach me anything.”
“Then you can’t leave me,” he said, looking over at her.
“Oh things just get creepier with you.”
“You want to leave, you had better learn to drive.”
A silence descended. The road was getting darker and the scenery more sparse. Did he dare dwell on how good it felt having her in the car with him? Oh, he was fucked up. There was no denying it. Right now, there was literally nowhere in the world he would rather be. Except maybe to be in the Hamptons already.
Beside him, she sat looking ahead, not saying anything. “So what exactly do you expect when we get there?” she asked.
“We talk.”
“About what?”
“I don’t know. You want to keep going like we have been?”
She had no reply to that. “And if I don’t want to talk?”
“Well, the car does have an automatic gearbox. It’s not that hard. You can figure out how to drive it if you’re that desperate.”
“Why did you bring a car anyway? Did you plan this?”
“It’s Seb’s car. I took the keys off him because he’s an idiot.”
The conversation stalled again and he didn’t know how to get it going. Never before meeting her had he been tongue-tied. Then again, he’d never been in this position with a girl before. He’d never been in love with a girl. And yes, this could conceivably be construed as kidnapping, but he didn’t know what else to do.
Cecily fell asleep and it took the pressure off a bit. He drove in silence until he reached the South Hampton house. Cecily woke as he cut the engine. Nothing showed except the house in the security lights. Everything else around them was dark. It looked completely desolate. There were other houses around, but they were all unoccupied this time of year.
The wind was harsh as they stepped out. Icy wind ripped down the coast, the waves of the sea heard in the darkness. “Come on,” he said and walked to the door. It was biometric, so it opened with his thumb print. His dad was into all that biometric shit, which proved useful when you spontaneously stole a girl away.
The lights came on as he stepped inside. The house was cold. No one had been here since summer, probably. Moving to the control panel, he turned on both the air and the fire. It would take a little while to warm.
Truthfully, he had no plan. Taking her here had just popped into his head, because he’d wanted a place to be alone with her. It did come across a bit creepy, but his intention was for them to… acknowledge what was going on. Maybe just rehash that he was in love with her and that she couldn’t stand his guts.
“It’s cold,” she said.
“It will warm. The fire is on,” he said, pointing toward the fireplace. Leaving him behind, she moved there and reached her hands toward the flames.
“Well, this is nice. Are you going to show me how to drive now?”
“Never a good idea to learn in the dark,” he said, moving over to the bar. “You want a drink?”
“No,” she replied as if it was a dumb question.
“Well, we have chips, nuts. Non-perishables. Probably frozen shit in the freezer.” He wouldn’t know. The kitchen had never been his domain.
“You going to cook for me?” she said with a snort.
“Sorry, don’t know much about food-making other than dialing. Oh, there’s merengues.”
“Why do you have merengues in a bar?”
“No idea.”
Pouring himself a whiskey, he made her a ginger beer. She seemed to li
ke them from what he’d seen. In fact, he had catalogued everything he’d seen her do. She liked apples, cinnamon gum and Oreos, and if she was feeling stressed or happy, she would get fries.
“Here,” he said, handing the drink to her.
“We have school tomorrow.”
“I don’t think we’ll make it.”
“You’re a bad influence on me,” she said tartly.
Taking his drink, he sat down on the couch and watched her. Now what? What did the ogre do once he swiped the maiden? “So other than me, what do you hate?”
“Arrogant, spoilt boys are pretty high on the list. Fair-weather friends are high on the list too. Stupid houses in the Hamptons. And New York. You know, I think I hate everything about it. What about you, Adrian?” she said, stressing his name. “What do you hate?”
“Everything. Everything except you.”
Cecily snorted.
“You are everything I think about. I think about you when I wake up. I think about you when I go to sleep, and every moment in-between. I dream about you. I don’t get a moment’s respite. Your revenge on me is complete. You’ve literally taken everything from me, and now all I see is you, and I have no idea what to do.”
She didn’t laugh this time, kept staring into the fire, her arms crossed tightly to her. “I didn’t do any of that. You did that all to yourself.”
“Did I?” he asked. It didn’t feel like it was all him. In all this, it hadn’t been all him. Not the way she burned when he kissed her. Maybe it was those kisses that had so completely ensnared him. Cecily’s revenge. But then she didn’t burn like that for anyone else. In his gut, he knew that was true, even if she wouldn’t admit it. “I love you.”
“Stop saying that,” she said quietly.
“I don’t know what to do now.”
“So you stole me away here and you have no plan?”
“Nope.”
Truthfully, he felt like he was crawling out of his own skin. His system was flooded with adrenalin and endorphins. He could barely sit still, but equally couldn’t move, because he didn’t trust himself. There was so much riding on this conversation. Although he didn’t really know that. She could be absolutely set against him and there was no hope at all—but he wasn’t ready to accept that. How could he? Where would he go if that was true?
Everything about him was utterly raw. He had no skin left. “I love you.”
“Stop saying that,” she repeated, but there was emotion in her voice now.
Chapter 41
THE EMOTIONS RACING through her were impossible to tease out. Just a mess, and she didn’t know if she wished to laugh or cry. Part of her wanted to believe what he was saying wasn’t true, but she couldn’t bring herself to.
“I am not responsible for you,” she said, hardly able to keep the tears from flowing. How the fuck had they gotten into this mess? And now, his wellbeing and happiness depended on her. That wasn’t fair. Because now he was making her cruel. This all highlighted that she had the propensity for it. Part of her still wanted him to suffer—and Audrina, her mom and dad, her stupid self-absorbed brothers and Lauren. “I am not this person you are making me be.” Even as she said it, she knew it was unfair. He wasn’t responsible for the way she treated all these people in her life. He was only highlighting it to her, because she had a dagger to his heart and he was asking what she was going to do.
What was the alternative? Be in love with Adrian Morecroft? Just get absorbed into that, get pulled down into that mess, with him being the air she needed to breath. It would be all-encompassing and they would inextricably be tied together—more than they were now. As much as she had denied that they were, it wasn’t true. She took one hundred percent of his attention, and he took eighty percent of hers, and he was asking for more.
The one thing she knew for sure was that she could so easily fall in love with him. All it would need would be her releasing the breaks. Because she already had a little—before he’d torn her apart. It had never truly died, even as she had beaten it to death. He’d always had her. It just kept smoldering there no matter what she did. “I hate you,” she said, her tears spilling over her cheeks.
Beside her, she heard him move and wished he wouldn’t. Then she felt him nuzzle into her hair, the warmth of his body behind her. Heard his sigh as he drew in her scent. His fingers gently pressing to her neck.
The skin along her arms and back contracted with his nearness. No one else made her feel like this with his mere presence.
She smiled. This might never have been his intention, but it was so strong. They were both caught in it.
His deepening breath sounded in her ears and his lips stroked along her cheek. The slight trace radiated down her skin, down her body. His arms coming around her drew her to him. Desire and comfort suffused her mind, drugging her.
Turning her head, she sought his lips, being rewarded by pure sweetness. She was lost. Dammit, how could this be so compelling? What was it between them that made them click so? Everything just seemed to make sense when they kissed.
She broke the kiss, but immediately needed more, feeling the need with everything she was. His lips, his tongue, his warmth.
With his arms around her, he picked her up, her half aware he was carrying her somewhere. Her mind tried to challenge her to think about what she was doing, asking her if she had really considered what she was doing here—what she was promising. But right now, she just needed him. His skin, his warmth, the feel of him inside her.
They were in a room, soft and white. A bedroom. It was really nice, but right now she didn’t care as her sweater came off. Enough of her, she needed his skin and tugged at the shirt, pulling it over his head until she had him as she wanted him. His skin warm and firm under her fingers. It contracted as she stroked along his tensing muscles.
And then he bundled her to him, carrying her up on the bed. It was cold beneath her, but he was so warm, so perfect. The feel of his skin to hers was glorious. Her hips ground to his and he moaned, his breaths heavy in her ear. Thrills of desire drugged her body, making her seek more.
How was it they burned so hotly together? Everything else was pushed out of the way and there was only fervent desire. Her whole body shook with it, burned with it.
Leaning back on his haunches, he tugged at her jeans, drawing them down to reveal all of her. There was nothing in her that felt self-conscious about it. It felt necessary—it felt truthful. No barriers, no diversions. Just them, raw and naked.
He returned to her, cradled between her thighs. This felt so right. It felt as if accepting the inevitable. Maybe not inevitable, but it felt like accepting what she’d know could have been there. Everything always felt so raw with him.
His arms slipped under her shoulders and his hand held her head. They were eye to eye. There was no hiding from him now, because he wanted her attention. The world slowed for a moment and it was only them in stillness.
What did he want from her? Her heart. The answer came to her. He wanted this to mean something. Why did he want it? He needed it. The answer was there in his eyes.
The tip of his cock pressed into her entrance. Then he pressed inside, slowly, a shudder working through him as he did. His eyes wavered with the sensation, but they didn’t leave her. This felt so very intimate. There was no hiding, he refused to let her.
The feel of him inside her had sensations unfurling throughout her body. The fullness, the completion. Was it bad to feel this way with him? She didn’t know if she could trust him, but he wanted everything. Inch by inch, until he was buried in her, that sharp sensation as he pressed to her cervix.
For a moment, he stayed there, completely encased in her. The sensation was taking a toll on him, threatening to steal him away, make him falter. His eyes swam closed and he sought her lips, the kiss that stole them both away. How was it they had this? How could that be? This wasn’t logical.
Firm strokes carried her away, the sensation so powerful, she didn’t know what to do with
it. She needed this, needed more. Clasping his hips, she met him, intensifying how sharp it felt. A groan each time he fully came to her. Her body shook and her hands clasped tighter. The sweetness of the pleasure built and built.
He winced as if in pain, then reached out to the headboard and drew himself harder into her, pressing himself deeper into her. The pleasure intensified and she couldn’t breathe—caught utterly in the movement between them, the unified movement that merged them together. They were one like this, perfectly in tune.
The rush of her orgasm started, surged through her and threatened to draw her away from him, but she didn’t want to go. She wanted to be with him, wanted to do this together.
His hand rushed to her hips, holding her to him as he faltered, grinding them together until the sharp pulses of his release joined hers. His harsh moans reverberated in her ears, along with intense waves of sheer pleasure. How could this not be too good to be true?
Warm, harsh breath tickled the skin of her neck as her release started to retreat. His arm at her back held her tightly to him and they lay there, wracked with the aftershocks.
“I feel as if I just gave you everything I am,” he said between labored breaths. He wasn’t letting go and they stayed as they were, tangled in each other. His body shuddered again and he pressed into her as if savoring every ounce of sensation.
A few moments later, she felt his hold loosen and she looked down to see his eyes closed. He roused slightly as she pulled away. “Sleep,” she said and he did. Carefully, she rose from the bed and stood there watching him. He looked so very sweet as he slept. Exhaustion had taken him now. Emotional exhaustion. This had all taken a toll on him. He’d so much as said she’d tortured him—had gotten her revenge. Now he was hers to do with as she pleased. He’d bleed if she wanted him to.
One thing she knew was that she didn’t relish the power she had over him. It was there weather she wanted it or not. She could destroy him if she wanted to, and they both knew it. It hadn’t been her intention, or had it—she couldn’t tell. Because the accusations were true—she had been as invested in this fight as he had been. Now she had won, and it wasn’t a good feeling.