Dirty Little Lies

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Dirty Little Lies Page 13

by James, Clare


  “Where will you go?”

  “I can stay at my sister’s.”

  “So you’ve already worked it all out? Can’t I say anything to change your mind?” Max voice is shaky, and it causes me actual physical pain to see him this way.

  “You could, yes,” I admit. “But we can’t go through this again. It’s not fair to either one of us. I know you agree, deep down.”

  “But everything else is so good between us,” he tries to argue, but I can see the acceptance taking hold in his eyes.

  “That’s what sucks about it.” But we both know that what’s missing isn’t a small thing; it’s what prevents us from ever having anything more than a friendship. And I don’t want to spend my life living with a friend. I want more.

  “Yes, it does,” he finally agrees.

  “Are you sure there are no girls who’ve caught your eye at work?” I try to make light of one of the worst days of my life.

  “Not a one.” He smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “When are you leaving?”

  “Today.”

  “What about Free?” he asks.

  “I can’t leave without him. I tried once, remember?”

  “Could I at least get him on weekends and every other holiday?”

  “Yes, of course.” I sniffle. “We don’t even have to go to court for that. Anytime you want him. I’ll even leave him here until I get settled.”

  And that’s how grown-ups break up.

  We say our very tearful goodbyes, and he leaves me to the apartment. He said he couldn’t be here while I packed. It’s just as hard for me. Thankfully, it doesn’t take long with my sparse belongings.

  I kiss Free, promising to pick him up in a few days and then spend the rest of my day moving into my sister’s place.

  Chapter 27

  I sit on my sister’s sofa, ready to relax for the night. In the past few weeks, I’ve lived through two moves, a complete makeover, two breakups, an amazing affair, and a look into a world I never knew existed. I can’t even wrap my head around it all. I’m absolutely spent and just want to cuddle inside and watch the movie Max and I never got around to.

  A little Bogie always does a woman good.

  Settled in with my ice cream, I watch Bogie take up the screen. It’s my favorite scene: he strides in to yell at Sam for playing “As Time Goes By” when his eyes meet Bergman’s. She is demure and gorgeous—Hollywood royalty at its finest. My heart flips, just like it always does at this part.

  It makes me think of Gabe and the hotel bar—the first night we met. His unkempt hair, delicious scruff, and those icy eyes. He’s even better than Bogie—so much better.

  My mind drifts back, and I allow it this time, remembering the way we ended that first night. His voice commanding me to do all sorts of naughty things. The way I came apart for him from just his words. I rewind that part a few times.

  A few minutes later, I’m vaguely listening to Bogie and Bergman when my body shifts into autopilot.

  What am I doing? my brain asks, while my body keeps moving.

  I remove my loungewear, gliding into my most expense La Perla bra and panties, a deep purple lace and satin number, topping it off with the LBD and shoes that caught Gabe’s attention that night.

  Could I do it again?

  I don’t want to answer that question yet, so I keep going focusing one just one step at a time. I have to try.

  Moments later, I’m running out of the apartment, trying to hail a cab. It’s a busy night and doesn’t take me long. I just need Gabe at the hotel when I get there.

  “Stevie,” my spunky waitress greets me when I walk in. We’d become quite chummy during my stay—especially after she caught me making out with Gabe by the elevator one evening.

  I take in the place, memories smacking into me in crashing waves. It looks just as it did that night, but this evening there’s a pretty woman with long black hair playing piano in the lounge. She’s no Sam, I muse—still acting out my Casablanca fantasy—but she’ll do.

  “Hi,” I answer meekly. “Is he here?”

  She shakes her head.

  “Are you okay?” the waitress asks with concern. “Would you like me to call him? I have a number for emergencies.”

  “No, that’s okay,” I say, deflated.

  Casablanca, this is not.

  I shuffle out, the disappointment too much to take after all this time. I’m aching to see Gabe. To apologize for not giving him a chance to explain. To tell him how sorry I am about his wife. How could I have been so cruel? Though there’s little chance he’ll forgive me now, I still need to make him understand.

  I can’t believe I spent all that time with him, and I have no idea where he lives. I guess I have only one other option.

  The Club.

  The bellman shuttles me into a cab. En route, I say a silent prayer to the Goddess.

  Once I make it inside The Club, I make my donation to Venus—a lot easier when I wasn’t wearing fifty-dollar panties—and join the kinky freaks in the meeting room. I get a few nods and smiles as I scan the place for Gabe.

  Of course, I feel him before I see him. He’s gorgeous as ever in his black v-neck t-shirt and messy hair. Unfortunately, so is the woman with him. She laughs, flipping her sassy platinum fringe as her silky blue dress catches the light.

  What was I thinking come here? Of course he’s with someone new. Why wouldn’t he? He owns the place for crying out loud. This is his thing. Gabe spots me before I can get out of the place unnoticed. Then he whispers something to his new pet project and makes his way toward me.

  “Stevie,” he says with a shocked expression. “You are the last person I expected to see here tonight.”

  “I’m sure I am,” I snap, letting my jealous alter ego have her way.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” he asks. And despite my bitchy mood, he moves in closer. Always doing the opposite of what you expect.

  “Let me guess, another conquest?” I ask, more hurt now than mad.

  “Hey, I don’t think that’s fair,” he says. “You’re the one who left me, remember?”

  “I know,” I tell him, rubbing my aching temples. “I’m sorry.”

  “Do you want to tell me what happened?” he asks, taking a seat. “Why you’re here?”

  “Well, it’s more like what didn’t happen,” I say, rolling my eyes.

  “Oh.” Gabe nods, quick on the uptake. He feigns concern, though I can tell he’s pleased as punch about my little dig on Max.

  Devil.

  “But he was doing so well,” Gabe says.

  “No.” I laugh. “It’s really not that. Max was doing great; he is great. I just couldn’t go there with him. After everything, I couldn’t seal the deal.”

  “You mean the two of you haven’t been together in all this time?”

  “Nope. I couldn’t go through with it. Maybe women are different that way.” I look off to where his date sits. “Or maybe, I’m just different.”

  “So you didn’t come here to, you know?” Gabe asks. “Join in the festivities?”

  “No!” I yell, taken aback. “I came to talk to you.”

  “Oh?”

  “Yes, I heard about your wife, Gabe.”

  He’s quiet for a moment, staring at the ground. His face doesn’t give him away and I really have no idea if he’s going to kick me out or stay to talk.

  “Hang on,” he says. “I need to tell Sylvie that we’re going to be a while.”

  “I’m sorry.” I wave my hands, shooing him back to his date. “I don’t want to ruin your night. Now that she’s roped in the prize of The Club, I’m sure she’s not going to want to go off with just anyone.”

  Gabe chuckles, and I feel it down to my toes.

  He’s still got it.

  “Sylvie is not here to play, Stevie. She’s here because we’re in negotiations.”

  “What?” I say, knowing there’s worry etched all over my face. Negotiations sound even worse. Negotiating what, ex
actly?

  “She’s going to buy the place,” Gabe says slowly to make sure I understand.

  “You’re selling The Club?”

  “Yep.” He leans over and gives me a peck on the forehead. “You’re not the only one who made some changes the past few weeks.”

  “But why? Don’t you still believe in this place?”

  “Sure I do. But I don’t need it anymore. When my wife died, part of me died with her. I was just a shell for a long time. Until I found this place. It brought me back from the dead, Stevie. I can’t explain it, but the people, the energy … I could just be, and feel good, and not feel guilty like I was betraying my dead wife. It saved me. Maybe like it saved you a little?”

  “It wasn’t this place that saved me.” I laugh. “It was you, you idiot. You, and the damn phone sex, and all your other kinky tricks.”

  “Ah, so it was the kink that did it?” He returns my smile.

  “Your kink,” I clarify.

  “You use what you know, I guess.” He reaches in for an embrace, and I let him hold me. “I was so worried I fucked everything up for you, Stevie.”

  Burrowing into his warm body, I begin to sizzle. I know he means this as an act of comfort, but I can’t help my reaction to him.

  “So what made you come here tonight to tell me all of this?” he asks, keeping me tucked in under his arm.

  “Bogie,” I answer simply.

  “What?” He scrunches his face in the most adorable way. I want to jump him right here. Right now.

  “I was watching Casablanca, and it made me think of you.”

  “Wow, that’s quite the compliment. I don’t think I’ve ever been compared to Humphrey Bogart before. Well, as it turns out, that movie is always On Demand at the hotel. We could watch it there. I’m sure you need a place to stay, right?”

  “No, I’m staying at my sister’s place. Plus, after all the items I’ve had to buy to get my sexy back, I’m not sure I could afford to stay there again.”

  “Hmm.” He strokes his chin. “I do have some extra points you can use if you like.”

  “You do?”

  “I do.” He chuckles again and moisture pools between my legs.

  If he keeps this up, I might just find myself in The Club’s bedroom after all.

  Absentmindedly, I lick my lips, not taking my eyes off his. His expression grows darker, and he runs a finger along my cheek, reaching my neck and sliding down my body, before resting his hand on my hip.

  He gives me a gentle kiss and shakes his head.

  “Of all the gin joints, in all the towns, in all the world, she walks into mine.”

  Oh, he’s so much better than Bogie.

  Chapter 28

  Gabe takes me back to his place—an old greystone. It is perfectly him. Warm and sexy. Mahogany wood trims the very masculine place, full of leather furnishings in deep-jeweled colors.

  “You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to get you here so I could have my wicked way with you,” he growls in my ear.

  “We’re not at The Club, Mr. Shannon.” I giggle. “You have no rooms or people to work with. None of your usual tricks here.”

  “Oh, you’d be surprised what I can do just with the items you’re wearing, Ms. Sinclair. We don’t need a club. In fact, I say we start our own.”

  “Yeah?” I play along. “Who shall we worship at the new place, Aphrodite or Zeus?”

  “Just you, baby,” he purrs. “A club for two—you and I, members only.”

  “Mmmm,” I say as he pulls me flush against his body. “I like the sound of that.”

  “Although I do regret that you didn’t get your moment as Goddess. Maybe I could make it up to you now. Will you let me worship you, Stevie?”

  Yes, please.

  My eyes glaze over, my head light with anticipation.

  Gabe quickly goes to work.

  He slides the fabric belt from my dress and flips it over his shoulder, giving me a sinful look. He’s saving it for later. Then, turning me around, he slowly unzips my dress and lets it fall to the floor. I step out of it—leaving me in only my bra and shoes, thanks to Venus’s greedy demand of my panties. Gabe picks me up and carries me to his bedroom.

  More rich woodwork frames the large room; a four-poster bed sits regally in the center. Gabe deposits me right in front of it.

  “Remove your bra, Stevie,” he says with the same possessiveness in his voice from our first night together. All my nerve endings ignite at the memory; my body knows what comes next.

  I slip out of the purple lace and move to take off my shoes.

  “Leave the shoes on.”

  Gabe pulls me to the top of the bed, nestling me in the center. A sweet, romantic move. It doesn’t last. Soon, I’m bound. He wraps my wrist, using the belt he took off my dress, and secures me to the headboard.

  “Ah,” I call out as he positions himself on the bed directly between my legs. “Is this what you had planned for me at The Club?”

  “Shh,” he whispers. “No more talk of that. This is our new and improved adventure, Stevie, and I have so much planned for you.”

  “You do?” I squeak when he spreads my thighs.

  “Yes, I do,” he says as his eyes flow back and forth between soft and sexy—like there’s a battle going on inside of him.

  I know the feeling. As much as my body aches for him, my heart is even worse. I think I fell for him when he noticed my shoes that first night. Sometimes you just know, I guess. I need to tell him. Now. Again, not the most romantic way to declare my love to this amazing man—while I’m tied to his bed. But completely appropriate considering it’s us.

  “I love you, Stevie Sinclair,” Gabe says, abruptly halting the conversation going on in my mind. Everything else stills as well and, for a moment, I can do nothing but let his words soak in.

  He loves me.

  “No fair,” I whisper when I’m finally able. “I wanted to say it first.”

  “You did.” His hands begin worshipping my body and I lean into his every move. “When you walked into The Club for me.”

  I hook my legs around Gabe’s waist and pull him down close so I can kiss the heck out of his handsome face. He falls into it with me.

  “You are mine now,” he growls.

  GABE

  I don’t care if it’s crude or inappropriate or immature. I am going to fuck the memory of Max right out of Stevie. She loves me, she’s mine, and I’m not going to do anything to risk that again. She will want for nothing as long as I’m around.

  She opens herself to me and I position myself to go as deep as I possibly can. No tricks, no gimmicks. Just the two of us.

  “I am yours,” she answers my declaration.

  Her words wreck me. Like a man possessed, I drive into her with so much force, I’m worried I may have cracked the headboard. Well, it’s more of an observation than worry. Because after she gasps in approval. I do it again. And again.

  She smells like vanilla and sex and I strain not to come apart so soon. She deserves to be worshipped and adored and I plan to do that every chance I get.

  “You feel amazing,” Stevie’s voice is full of lust, her eyes squeezed tight. “I’m. So. Close,” she adds in between each thrust.

  “Look at me,” I order her. I need to see her eyes, I need that connection when we fall over the edge. She opens them and meets mine. Her eyes are clouded and gorgeous, holding the same intensity I feel.

  “I love you, Stevie Sinclair,” I say, completely lost in this woman.

  Her pussy clenches at my words and I almost come undone.

  Yeah, it’s never just been about the sex between us. It’s always been more. So much more.

  “I love you, Gabe Shannon,” she replies and I have the same response.

  We move together, slowly, deeply, never taking our eyes off each other. It is pure ecstasy and I don’t want it to end, but the build is accelerating now and there’s nothing I can do to stop it.

  I quickly dip my head, su
ck her nipple into my mouth and the same time I thrust into for the last time.

  And we fall over the edge together.

  Epilogue

  “Are you almost ready?” Gabe asks in that deep gritty voice of his, anxious to get our evening started at The Club.

  We’ve been away for months, and I know he’s missing it, despite the way he denies it each time I bring it up. Or, maybe I’m missing it.

  I do still have a teensy bit of a bad taste in my mouth from the time Max showed up, but I refuse to let that cast a dirty shadow on the place that changed my life—a place that brought me confidence, pleasure, excitement, not to mention Gabe.

  Donning a white satin toga that looks more like an evening gown than a frat party get-up, I walk out from our bedroom. Our bedroom. I’m still adjusting to that. Gabe asked me to move in last summer, but I held out until Christmas—a fact I’m quite proud of. My sister was out of state on her work assignment longer than she expected, so I had the run of her townhouse. And though Gabe and I spent almost every night together, it helped having my own place to work things out.

  When he presented me with a key on Christmas Eve, however, I couldn’t say no. We’ve been cohabitating for more than three months now and it’s been bliss.

  I shift my hair, sprinkled with tiny white flowers, over my shoulder and Gabe lights up. He meets me in the living room and pulls me close.

  “You looking amazing,” he whispers in my ear, before kissing his way down my neck.

  “I think my neckline is messed up again,” I say with a smile, remembering the way he used to dress me for our trips to Venus. Gabe sold the club, but we still make it on occasion. Of course tonight, is the biggest event of the year—April first, the Veneralia. It’s an ancient Roman tradition to honor Venus—the place is expected to be at capacity. My nerves flutter in excitement.

  “I think you are just perfect, Stevie,” Gabe lifts his head, and my neck immediately protests at the absence of his lips. “But if you insist.” He reaches his hand inside my dress to secure the clasps that alter my neckline so that my breasts are now prominently on display. My nipples peak as the cool air hits them.

 

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