All eyes widen and land on me. My lip curls in annoyance. I can’t even escape Piers’ shadow in the ladies’ room. Hopefully they don’t mistake my show of teeth for a smile.
“Shut up,” I reply, my hand frozen on the brass pull. It’s true, I never had him, but he’s not the one I want anymore. Not like that.
“Whatever. I’m heading back out to see if I can snag a dance while she’s not hanging all over him. Pathetic.” Catty bitch number two makes her exit, brushing past me.
When Willow steps out, I lock eyes with her. I can see the shock on her face and the tears in her eyes. I’m no better than Tweedledee and Tweedledum. She thinks I was the ring leader, no doubt.
I decided to do what I came in here to do: freshen up.
“Don’t take it personal.” I look over my shoulder at her before turning my back to look in the mirror again. “They only hate you because they want him.” Which is the truth.
“You knew I was in here the whole time?” she whispers, more to herself than me.
“Your mask.” I hold up the mask from the counter where she left it laying. “You really should be more careful, leaving your stuff unattended. Someone might take it when you’re not looking.”
I need her to understand these woman will be all over him if she looks away for even a second. It’s clear he only has eyes for her, but it won’t stop them from trying.
“And you really should be careful because those are Swarovski crystals and that mask wasn’t easy to find at the last minute. I should know, I’m the one who had to rush out to get it.” The words tumble out before I can stop them as I turn back and continue touching up my makeup.
She narrows her eyes in the mirror. Angry at the truth. Angry with me.
“But they’re not wrong. You know that, right?” I can’t shut my mouth.
“After seeing you tonight, in this world with his people, he will know I’m the only right choice for him. I’ve waited years for him to need me as much as I need him. And he finally does. I’ll be the one by his side every day, working with him, under him, for him. And you’ll be back in the states, painting fairies and baking cookies where you belong.” I don’t know why I say it. Maybe I want her to hurt as badly as I do, or maybe I’m saying words I told myself for so long.
But hearing them out loud feels different than I thought saying them would. They sound ridiculous. They feel...wrong.
My mind pleads for my mouth to pull the breaks, but the toxic words roll full steam ahead.
Willow holds her ground, shooting icy daggers with tear filled eyes, but her mouth remains in a firm line. All she has for me is silence. Silence and an angry stare. I don’t even warrant a reply, that pushes my buttons far more than words could.
I want her to yell, to scream. To fight back, fight for him, for her…for them. Anything but silence.
I take things to a new low in order to push her off her high horse and down to my level.
“He’s only with you because of Drew.” The sharp intake of breath and fury in her eyes lets me know I’ve finally struck a chord. “Playing house is a fun way to pass the time. But when he’s ready for someone to stand by his side, to run his empire, he knows where I’ll be.”
I leave my back to her and finish applying my blood red lipstick. Blotting, I buy myself a few seconds, needing to hold my composure, hating myself for what I just said.
Just as I turn back toward her, she surprises us both as her palm connects with my cheek with a sharp crack.
My mouth falls open in shock as my hand attempts to relieve the sting by massaging it. Glad to see she’s finally in the fight, but I did not see that coming.
“You—” I search my mind to see what I was playing at, but come up short. The strike was sobering.
Her hands brush down her sides, and now, it’s my turn to be silent. “No, you listen to me. And listen good. Breeding and manners be damned, don’t you ever, EVER, talk about my son again.”
Marble digs into my hip as I take a step back.
“Don’t suggest he’s the only reason Piers is sticking around. Don’t pretend to care about him. Not when you’re part of the reason he didn’t know his father.”
“What are you talking about?” Reaching behind me, my hands grip the vanity for support and my mouth falls open in disbelief. How could she ever imply I would do that to Piers?
She keeps talking while I remain frozen in silence.
“That night I called, I begged to talk to Piers. I was calling to tell him I was pregnant.” Her tears start to fall. “But you told me how he forgot me, moved on. You even put him on the phone, pissed out of his mind, and he didn’t know who I was. You never told him I called. You made me believe he had moved on. With you.”
Feeling like I might faint, I lower myself to a velvet footstool while she paces.
“That’s right. It’s my fault for leaving, that’s not on you, but lying to me is. And Piers knows. It’s only a matter of time before he asks you about it.”
My eyes flick to hers. She wouldn’t.
“I pity you. Really, I do. So desperate for love and affection you’ll steal it. What was that you said? Oh yeah, when no one is looking. Well, newsflash, Scarlett. I’m looking, I’m watching, and I’ll keep seeing you and every sneaky move you make. I may not be able to get rid of you, but you can bet your arse I won’t make the mistake of turning my head again.”
I hear what she’s saying, but I’m trapped in the fog of my emotions. She blames me. She hates me. And I had no idea. Of all the mistakes I’ve made, all the dirty deeds and snarky comments, I would never have purposefully kept Drew from Piers. The echo of her accusations rings out in my mind until it becomes a deafening roar.
Picking up her mask, she stands in front of the mirror.
Ironic how roles were so quickly reversed.
Walking past me, head held high, she gets in one last dig. “Lovely party, Scarlett. You’ve really outdone yourself.”
She really thinks I’m that evil, that cruel. It’s not that I’m not capable of doing the things she’s accusing me of, I would have done just about anything to keep Piers for myself back then. Except that.
But she has a right to know she doesn’t have to stay in London. Piers needs to come clean about everything: the will and stipulations surrounding it. Willow doesn’t have to stay to gain her inheritance.
It seems Piers and I aren’t really all that different after all. He’s omitting facts to keep from losing her and Drew.
How is that any different than what I did? Unknowingly, at that.
“If you don’t believe this is about Drew, then ask him about the loophole that frees you from staying to jointly inherit,” I whisper.
She stops in her tracks. “Excuse me?”
“I take it he didn’t tell you? I warned him about keeping secrets.” I sigh.
“Go to hell.” She brushes past me. I’ve already been.
“Just ask him,” I call out as the door slams behind her and tears fill my eyes.
Deep breaths. I stare at the ceiling and blink them back. When I feel like I’ve gotten my bearings back, I stand in front of the mirror. Removing the mask to assess the damage, I see all the blood is drained from my face, except for my left cheek, which is tinged with red, where she struck me.
My mascara is still intact, from tears that never fell.
With my eye, I see blonde hair, dark eyes, and red lips, a sharp contrast to my pale skin.
With my heart, I see the one person I swore to never become. My mother.
I see a sharp tongue inside a wicked ruby mouth, dark eyes that hold secrets, and a heart darker than the blackest mascara. My breath quickens and my shoulders shake with silent sobs.
I don’t want to be her. I don’t even want to be me most days, and I’m only a fraction of what she was. Broken. Lonely. Empty. I don’t need to be rescued, I need the one who can hold me tight enough to hold all my broken pieces together. Someone who can help me chase away the ghosts of the past. Cohen.
/> Just as I’m about to secure my mask, I let it fall from my hand and it lands with a quiet thud on the marble. Leaving it on the vanity, I rush out to find him. I’m done hiding.
The tingling assaults my senses the minute I step outside that door. He’s standing in the corridor, leaning up against the stone wall, his hands tucked in his pockets and looking better than any man has a right to.
But it’s not just how he fills out that tux, it’s how he makes me feel. Pushing off the wall, he holds out his hands as I walk to him, walking faster with each step closer I get to his waiting arms.
“Dance with me?” he asks as soon as his fingers skim my wrists, pulling me in. I gaze up into his tranquil ocean eyes as he waits for my answer.
I need more than his arms for a few simple melodies, under lights, on a crowded dance floor. I need him to take everything, then fill the void in a darkened room with only the sounds of our breath creating a symphony of ecstasy.
I could play coy or the part of the seductress, like I have so many times, to get what I want. Instead, I expose myself and ask him for what I need.
“Make me forget.” The words fall from my trembling lips, a whispered plea.
His eyes widen, and without another word, I’m being whisked toward the exit.
Chapter Eighteen
Cohen
“Make me forget.” Three words, and my resolve is gone. Three simple words falling from dark lips while indigo eyes swimming with emotion plead with me.
Her pulse quickens under my touch. I felt the rapid flutter in her wrist beneath my thumb. I didn’t want our first time to be nothing more than an attempt to chase away the ghost of her past, and I could say no to her standing before me in nothing but lace, but I can’t say no to her, here, now, not while she stands fully clothed needing me the way she does. Swallowing a thump wedged in my throat, I close the distance between us and place a quick kiss to her forehead. This isn’t about a physical connection, this is about the electricity that overwhelms me when she is near and the way she nearly pulls my beating heart from my chest with a look that lets me know she doesn’t think she’s enough. I need to show her she’s more than enough, if only for one night.
Without saying a word, I fasten my hand around hers and lead her outside. The chill of the summer evening air is refreshing as we escape the heat of the crowded gala and flicker of candlelight.
Not wanting to wait for my driver, I escort her to a black taxi idling outside the nearest exit.
“I’ll double your rate to get us out of here. We’re in a bit of hurry.” My voice is stern, and he nods. “The Kensington hotel please, mate.” He nods again.
“No,” Scarlett speaks up, turning toward me. “My place.”
“Are you sure?” I ask, knowing what she confessed that night about never bringing men to her house. Knowing I’ll be the first has my chest puffing with pride, like some kind of deranged caveman.
“Yes,” she replies firmly before rattling off her Nottinghill address.
Once we are settled in the back of the cab and speeding away, I take her hand in mine.
“I need to let Teddy know since he brought me tonight,” she explains, reaching for her mobile with her free hand, and I try to remind myself they are only mates. She punches out a message and drops her phone into her tiny bag.
“Good thinking.” I smile at her before diverting my eyes out the window. It’s feeling rather hot in here.
My fingertips drag back and forth over her palm, intertwining with her own.
Our hands perform a sensual dance as we ride in silence. The sexual tension thickens with every mile closer we get to her flat. We cross Lambeth Bridge and pass Buckingham Palace, everything a blur of lights as we drive by. My eyes remain fixed ahead, afraid if I look at her, I’ll combust.
So we both remain frozen. My muscles ache at the discipline it takes to sit so still with the amount of adrenaline coursing through me. What feels like an hour later, we pull up to her flat, and as promised, I hand the driver double the fare and a generous tip for making good time.
Deja vu washes over me as I follow her up the walkway. She fidgets nervously with the keys before I steady her hand in mine. “We don’t have to do this. Not tonight.” I give her an out, and she turns to look up at me. “But if come in, I can’t hold back.” The need to be with her coils tightly in my core.
“I know.” Her reply comes out in a whisper as she steps over the threshold and grabs my lapel, pulling me after her.
Our lips fuse together in the foyer, and my back slams into the door as the kiss deepens.
A tangle of limbs, hands, and lips greedily pull at clasps and buttons.
“This way.” She steps back, and the loss of her nearly knocks the breath from me. She walks backwards, her heels clicking on the wood floor as she seductively saunters down the hallway to her bedroom.
Sliding the lock into place, securing us for the night, I step away from the door and stalk toward Scarlett as she continues leading me to her private boudoir like a siren leading a sailor astray.
When we reach her doorway, turning her back to me, she pulls her long blonde hair to the side.
“Help me with the zipper?” she asks, her voice dripping in lust.
“I would love to.” My hands tease the delicate, exposed skin of her back before finally lowering her zipper. Her dress falls to the ground with a heavy whoosh. I can’t help but wonder how she got the dress zipped up. It’s probably for the best I don’t know.
She steps from the puddle of beads and feathers and stands with her bare back to me in black lace panties, a matching garter, and sinful black stilettos. The red soles taunt me as she walks slowly forward, stopping in front of a large, floor-to-ceiling gilded mirror. I see her exposed breasts as she drops her hands shamelessly to her hips.
My dick strains painfully hard as I watch her in the mirror. There is something much more erotic seeing her nakedness from the reflection, rather than if she were to turn around.
Playing her little game, I shrug from my black tuxedo jacket and toss it on a velvet chair next to the bed.
Her silhouette is perfection. Long legs, full hips flaring out from a small waist, and shapely breasts give her the perfect hourglass figure with a bit more height.
I stalk toward her like she’s my prey. Scarlett has unleashed something primal in me and I’m dying to taste her.
The closer I get, the more the air crackles with that unexplainable charge. Her widening eyes, let me know she feels it too.
Playing her little game, I shrug from my black tuxedo jacket and toss it on a velvet chair next to the bed.
My fingers fumble, desperate to rid myself of this black bowtie.
She arches her back, turning slightly to the side, but her eyes stay fixed on me in the mirror. I undo the buttons of my shirt, one at a time, bearing my chest to her. Her hungry eyes drag down my chest, past my abs, to where my hands pause on my trouser fasten.
Her tongue reaches out and wets her bottom lip, and I flick them open, before drawing the zipper down, torturing us both. The urge to rush and take her is nearly overpowering, but I hold back and continue this seductive bedroom tango.
She lets out a little moan, her breath fogging the glass.
I move closer, and her breathing picks up. Her breast rise and fall with her fast beating heart. The only sounds are the whispered swooshes of clothes being removed and the panting we’ve resorted to as we eye fuck each other through a mirror.
The most erotic foreplay I’ve ever taken part in.
Once I finally reach her, I step between her legs and draw my hard length from my boxer briefs. Taking my shaft, I press it to her lace-covered arse, and her hands reach behind her to pull me closer. I thrust up, massaging myself against the soft fabric.
With my left hand, I work my way around her hips, past to the hallow under her ribs and up to feel the swell of her breast. I could nearly explode right here on her back from the weight of her perfect breast in my palm. I
roll her rosy bud between my fingers like a cord of rope. Capable hands from years of practicing tying sailing knots. A hobby I immersed myself in when I discovered what could be mine one day, either by inheritance or force.
Now there is an idea, I think to myself as my right hand continues stroking myself.
"Arms," I command, and she lifts them. At this angle, her breasts press upward, begging to be tasted.
Releasing my cock, I use both hands to pivot her in my arms, and dip my head, just for a second, just long enough for me to swipe both nipples with my tongue, teasing her, before taking them in my mouth. I drag my nose along her skin, breathing her dark scent in before turning her in my arms, back to face the mirror.
"Cohen," she moans out, dropping her hands.
"Put your hands on the glass and leave them there for a second," I order, and her eyes light up at my command. She likes to be bossed around it seems. Good. That’ll make things a lot easier.
I don’t know a great deal about being a dominant or a submissive, I just know I like to be in control, both in and out of the bedroom. Call it whatever you like.
Her head falls forward to rest on the cool glass as I reach around with one hand and dip my fingers below the waistband of lace to see just how wet she is. Finding her dripping core, I swirl my fingers in it before withdrawing my hand.
“Soaked,” I whisper into her platinum hair as she watches me lift my fingers to my mouth and lick the evidence of her arousal from my fingers.
“Let me taste you,” she begs. “It’s only fair.”
I take a step back, nodding, and she drops to her knees in front of me, using my discarded trousers as a cushion on the wood floor.
A hiss escapes my mouth as she puts her delicate hands on me, ridding me of my boxer briefs and dragging blood red nails down my skin, the sensation equal parts pleasure and pain.
Reaching forward, she takes me into her mouth, hands free, and swirls around the tip before nearly taking my full length, until my tip brushes the back of her throat. Her mouth draws me in and out, her palms gripping my bare arse as she tastes me. My hands fly to the glass to balance myself. The heat of her mouth and the twist and tangle of her tongue is like velvet against me. Looking over her head, her perfect, pale arse juts out, teasing me in the sinful black lace and those red soles staring up at me.
Never Say Never (Written in the Stars Book 2) Page 15