by Lauren Wood
We were tangled up in each other, kissing fervently. Our bodies writhed and rocked against each other. Our breaths were heavy and impatient, but still it seemed to go on forever. For everything to come after that kiss, and how ready we both were for it, neither of us seemed to want our passionate makeout session to end. It felt like we were losing ourselves completely in each other’s lips and tongues, in each other’s bodies.
But there was only so much I could stand before I had to have him right then and there. No more waiting. I put my hands on his hips and pulled them towards me with a whimper. “Now, Dawson. Please. Fuck me.”
“Shhhh,” he whispered, grazing his lips across mine. “Not fucking. This is something else entirely, sweetheart. Let me take my time with you.”
While the burning need inside of me was rapidly turning to frustration, the quiet sternness of his voice lulled me into submission. Whatever he had in store for me, I was longing to soak it up in whatever way he wanted.
He explored every inch of my body with his lips and swirling fingers. I started to realize there was a level of anticipation and arousal that I had never fully reached before in my rushed, meaningless, drunken one night stands and flings. Not only was he making love to every single part of my body, but something about the fact that it was him, Dawson, only made it better. I felt so present and aware—all senses heightened and on full alert, just for him.
Finally, he wrapped his hands around my hips to keep me still and settled in between my thighs. With one long, slow thrust—he slid inside of me.
My head thrashed back with a moan that was a million miles away as far as I was concerned. The only thing that I was fully aware of was the feeling of him filling me up, thrusting hard and deep. He moved over me in a slow and steady rhythm, stroking my hair from my face and showering me with kisses. His tongue darted into my mouth, rolling to match the rhythm of his thrusts. The pleasure rippled through me as his sweaty body glided over mine, our cries growing louder.
Everything else outside of that bed seemed to disappear. I went into a sort of trance, relishing in every touch and sound and taste. His hands slid across my skin, massaging into me as he kissed me deeply. We seemed to be sharing one single breath, passing it back and forth, as the orgasms ripped through us both. We melted together and rode the wave of the feeling, rising and falling together with perfect timing. We were connected. We were one. The magical result of making love that I had always heard about, but never once experienced firsthand.
That was the easy part. I had shut off every other part of my brain and just let it happen, like a big wave taking me under whether I wanted it to or not. I saw no point in fighting it. But the moments that came after, as our pleasure slowly faded, those were the scariest of all.
I was clinging to my resistance for dear life as I shot up out of the bed and wrapped up in a robe to climb down the ladder.
“Where are you running off to?” he called out from the bed.
“Just gathering up my clothes,” I answered.
He came shooting down the ladder after me, grabbing my hands to stop me. “Oh no you don’t. You can get dressed if you want, even though I’d much prefer that we both stay naked. But suit yourself. You’re not going to take off again like you did last time though.”
“You can’t tell me what to do,” I argued.
“You came here for sex, and I gave it to you. Now I want you to do something for me in return.”
“Oh cause that was such a taxing favor for you to do!?” I shrieked in disbelief.
He smirked, tilting his head with an expression that told me to come off it. I knew damn well he enjoyed every second of that just as much as I did.
“Fine,” I groaned, crossing my arms. “Just what is it you want from me?”
“That’s a loaded question,” he laughed. “Right this moment, what I want from you is a promise.”
I let out a heavy sigh, shifting on my feet. “Dawson, you know I can’t…”
“A promise to stay the night. Have dinner with me and everything,” he proposed.
My brow furrowed as I looked back to him in shock. “Dinner? Staying the night? Really? That’s it?”
“I know you’re very busy, but…yes. Please, Isabella.” He pulled both of my hands to his lips and kissed them. “Just give me one night.”
“You think I’ll magically fall in love with you or something?” I teased.
“No.” He shook his head with a serious expression. “But you are going to marry one of these men from this Heartstring thing. That’s the plan, right?”
I looked down to our feet and nodded. That was the last thing I wanted to be reminded of right then.
“But we met for a reason,” he added. “Whatever the reason was. However this all ends. You’re here right now. And right now…you don’t belong to anyone. Let’s make the most of one last night together.”
“Last night?” I questioned. “You don’t want to see me anymore?”
His face drooped, like something was paining him. “This isn’t about what I want. It’s about what I can endure. I can’t have you one minute and see you all over town with some other guy the next.”
“Bull shit,” I snapped. “Every man is capable of that. It’s like a dream come true for you because you all have your fair share of women to run around with too.”
“Not when we’re in love,” he defended.
My bottom lip trembled at the mention of the L word. That was almost enough to send me running out the door, but my feet felt like they were glued to the ground. And I was transfixed, lost in Dawson’s eyes.
“Come on. One night. What do ya say?”
I caved into him with a smile. He found me a more fitting robe upstairs and he wore the one I had grabbed in a rush. After opening a bottle of wine, we lounged on the big pillows on the floor and talked for hours—stopping only long enough to order takeout for dinner.
Two bottles of wine and a pile of empty food boxes later, we went back to his bed and continued talking, kissing, and making love until the sun came up.
17
Isabella
Heavy rain was pouring down the big windows of the Heartstring board room, blurring the view of the city. It matched everything I was feeling inside. It was all a wet, soggy mess.
Jada paced the front of the room like a sergeant general preparing her troops for war. “I’ve booked the auditorium and all seats are sold out for the live broadcast set for one week from today. I have a whole team of stylists booked along with the film crew and security team. Our team of artists are in their own meeting as we speak, working on the set design.”
Artists. My mind ventured off to the background of my portrait, which Dawson had rendered into a landscape of mountains and valleys—all glowing in bright pinks, reds, and oranges. On our last night together, he showed me the progress and said the addition was meant to depict how it felt to make love to me.
I had never considered a visual representation of what that felt like. I couldn’t help but think of other lovers I had in the past, and what their depiction of such a thing might have been. A five star hotel room? A swanky bathroom at an upscale club? What did having sex with me conjure up in their brains, and could it possibly compare to the exploding pink sky that Dawson saw?
“Izzy,” Jada’s voice called out, falling on deaf ears. “Izzy! Hello! Izzy!” She clapped her hands together loudly three times, finally snapping me to attention.
“Oh, sorry. Yes. That all sounds great,” I murmured before turning my gaze back to the window. I wished there was a beautiful sunset to look at. Instead, there was nothing but gray smog. Even if it was fitting for how I felt, it wasn’t helping my bad mood.
“What do you mean it all sounds great?” she scoffed. “Isabella, pay attention. I said these are the outfits the stylists have pulled for you so far.” She angrily scattered the printed photos across the table. “Do any of these stand out to you for something you might like to wear?”
I listless
ly looked over the arrangement of photos. I couldn’t seem to make myself care about what I wore, which was unusual for me to say the least. One deep green tailored suit caught my eye. Green was my color, so I pointed to it without giving it much more thought.
“That one is fine.”
“Great, so that’s settled,” she said, tucking the discarded photos away.
My mind drifted off again, but this time it brought on a panic inside. I could feel my heart beating faster and faster, and I got the chilling sensation that the walls of the room were starting to bend and close in around me.
It could be like this every day and every night, if you wanted it to be…
On that last night, Dawson held me for a while on the balcony. I stood there swaying in the night air, looking up at the stars and moon. His arms wrapped around me from behind, holding me tight against his warm body. I realized I had never felt the way I did in that moment before. Just so, so…happy.
“I don’t want this night to end,” I confessed.
He whispered in my ear, “It doesn’t have to. It could be like this every day and every night, if you wanted it to be. Just you and me, doing whatever we wanted. I’ll keep painting and selling my work to support us. You can have some time to figure out what it is you want to do with your life. You can find that passion you said you’ve been missing.”
The memory dissipated into thin air with the sound of Jada’s fingers snapping in front of my eyes. She waved her hands in front of me like she was waking up someone who was unconscious. Meanwhile, my heart pounded harder and harder like a drum. My mouth went dry, my throat closed up. I felt lightheaded. Is this what it feels like to have a panic attack? I thought.
“Izzy. Stay with me. Focus,” she barked. “This is the most important part of this meeting and the whole damn thing. I need to know who you’re going to pick. Which one of the bachelors are you choosing to be with?”
“No,” I croaked, putting both of my hands across my chest.
“What? No what?”
Jack leaned forward, staring me down in alarm. “Are you okay?”
“No. No, I can’t do this,” I managed to say.
“Can’t do what? What are you talking about?”
She quickly poured a glass of water and slid it into my hands, but my fingers were shaking and I nearly dropped it. I slammed it down to the table and started to jump to my feet.
“I can’t do this. I can’t do any of this. I’m sorry. I just… I can’t,” I panted, pacing in place for a moment before lunging for the door.
I ran across the workroom floor, ignoring all the startled glances from the Heartstring employees that burned into me as I passed them. My heels hurriedly clacked along the marbled hallways outside, echoing so loudly that it hurt my head. Or maybe it was just my current state that amplified the noise. I just kept going and going until I reached a dead end of the hall. Not knowing what else to do or where to go, but desperately needing to calm my breathing, I fell against the wall and went sliding down to the floor.
With my head leaned back and my eyes closed, I tried to get a grip. But I was soon interrupted by another set of footsteps echoing down the hall.
“Izzy,” Jack called out to me. “Isabella. What the hell was that? What do you mean you can’t do any of this?”
“Please, not now, Jack.”
“What was that in there?” he prodded.
“I think—I think I had a panic attack or some sort of breakdown,” I confessed, still breathing heavily.
“Why?” he puzzled, holding his hand out to me to pull me back to my feet.
The room had stopped spinning some, so I slid my hand into his and climbed back into a standing position. “Please don’t make me do this, Jack. I’ve been trying to go along with it because I know it’s what you want. But I can’t go through with it. I don’t want to be with any of those men. I don’t want to do this stupid show.”
“I don’t understand,” he replied. “It’s a little late now to be trying to back out. You’re acting like a crazy person. Calm down and tell me what’s going on. What brought all of this on?”
I chewed on my bottom lip, feeling my heart start to thud against my chest like it was before. I felt like a little child again. Telling Jack something he didn’t want to hear was just like telling Daddy I had accidentally broken a window in our mansion or one of Mom’s expensive vases.
“What if— What if I had found everything you wanted me to,” I said slowly. “Love, companionship, maybe even a future husband. And something more substantial to do with my life. The whole deal. Someone to start my own family with. That was what you really wanted out of all of this right? What if I found it, but not with any of those men you picked for me?”
His face softened as the words sank in. I saw a flash of pity and regret roll across his face. But then it hit him. He tensed up, growing angry and confused. “Wait. Izzy. Tell me you’re not…You haven’t been messing around with that Dawson guy, have you?”
His reaction was terrifying. But what could he really do? I was a grown woman. I loved my brother dearly and didn’t want to disappoint him. But at the end of the day, that was his problem to deal with. I couldn’t live my life and make my choices based on his happiness or wishes. I had to do what I wanted, no matter how unpopular it was.
I lifted my chin, standing up to him. “So what if I have been?”
“Unbelievable,” he murmured, spinning around as he raked his hands through his slick black hair. “Ridiculous! Absurd! I made it very clear how I felt about Dawson.”
“Which has nothing to do with how I feel about him. Isn’t that the more important thing to consider here?”
“You don’t know how you feel about him because you don’t know him,” he barked. “That loser is all backwards. He turns his back on his own family just to prove a point. He gives up millions just to spite them. I refuse to see you end up with someone like that. If there’s any part of the Hayes name I can get behind, it’s in Richard Hayes.”
“I know him better than you think,” I shouted, stomping my foot. “Just because he has a passion in life that isn’t in law or business or finance doesn’t make him a loser. I’d argue he’s happier and more successful than anyone we know! If he doesn’t like his family, I have to believe they deserve that. He wouldn’t shun them for no good reason. And as for Richard, he’s smug and shallow and just as boring as the rest of those suits you’re trying to marry me off to!”
“Which you agreed to!” he yelled.
“Because you pressured me into it!” I defended. “If it’s so damn important to you, pick whichever bachelor you want. They’re all the same so it really doesn’t matter. You can even announce it for me if you want! But I’m not spending another second with any of those men! And I’m sure as hell not going to marry one of them, ever.”
“You have no choice. We made a deal.”
“This is my life, Jack. It’s not some game or marketing campaign or internet show. It’s my real life, and I have to choose for myself. I don’t want to just float by like mom and dad did, just barely outrunning misery but barely ever finding happiness until I die. That’s not enough for me, and it hasn’t been for a while.”
“Okay, okay. Calm down,” Jack said, pulling me into his arms. “I’m sorry. I get it. I did put a lot of pressure on you. I relate to everything you’re saying. I broke that cycle for myself when I met Jada.” He pulled back, putting his hands on my shoulders. “But listen to me, Izzy. You can’t be with Dawson. Quit the show if you want. But he’s still not the guy for you.”
“Oh come off it already, Jack!” I shrieked.
“No, listen to me,” he begged. “You can’t be with him because…he’s not who you think he is, alright?”
My face twisted up in confusion. “What are you talking about?”
“After you expressed an interest in him before, I felt bad for shutting you down like that,” he explained. “So, I did some digging on the guy to see if maybe he was s
uitable for you after all. I wanted to be able to take back what I said before. I really did. But…” he shook his head. “I looked into him, and I think you should know what his real motives with you are.”
18
Dawson
I was leaning back in a chair in my studio, doing nothing in particular. I had been in a bittersweet daze since that last night with Isabella. Sweet because it was one of the best nights of my life. Bitter because Izzy refused to let it happen again. Actually, I was the one who said it had to be the last time. But only to protect myself.
It prompted me to light up another cigarette, no matter how much I hated the taste of the damn things sometimes. It seemed like the only thing I could do to calm my racing thoughts.
I jumped at a knock at the door, immediately racing over to answer. In those few brief seconds as I reached for the door handle, I fantasized that Isabella would be standing there—apologizing for ever doubting me or us, begging me to take her in again.
But instead, I came face to face with the last person I ever wanted, or expected, to see at my door. My brother, Richard.
“Oh. It’s you,” I grunted.
He stepped past me and started looking around. “Good god, Daws. I heard you were living in squalor, but…this? Why here?”
“This is hardly squalor,” I sighed. “What do you want? Why are you here?”
“I came by to try and reason with you,” he announced. “I was hoping maybe after all this time, you had come to your senses about some of the decisions you’ve made, now that you’ve no doubt had a chance to regret them.”
“I have no regrets,” I defended.
“Ah,” he smirked. “Even still, I came here to offer you a job.”
“A job?” I laughed.