What to Read After FSOG: The Gemstone Collection (WTRAFSOG Book 3)

by Lauren Hawkeye

  I smiled through his kiss, the worst of my nerves melting away. Still…

  “Alex, I haven’t done this in a long time.” I hissed in a breath when he pressed his mouth to the hollow of my throat, his tongue flicking over the glove soft skin there.

  “It’s been a while for me, too.” He admitted, his hands slowly dropping from my elbows, then cupping my breasts through my shirt.

  My eyes blurred as he stroked his thumbs over my nipples. My breath quickened.

  “The blind leading the blind.” I murmured as he turned, then braced my back against the wall. The cool plaster was a delicious contrast to his searing heat at my front.

  He choked out a laugh, his hands doing wicked things as I arched into his touch.

  “I think I still know a trick or two.” Eyes intent on my face, he slid one hand from my breast and down. His finger slid in between my legs, scraping over the denim of my jeans, and I let out a choked cry.

  “Good?” He asked, his eyes never leaving my face.

  “Good.” My voice was hoarse. He held still and, impatient, I rocked against his finger. He chuckled into my hair.

  “Come with me.” Taking my hand, he led me down the short hallway to his bedroom. He knew me well enough by now not to ask to turn on the light.

  I wanted to give him something in return. It was dark, he wouldn’t be able to see my scars.

  While he silently pulled his shirt up and over his head, I did the same. When his fingers landed on me again, my torso was bare.

  “God, Serena.” His hands were suddenly everywhere, exploring the newly discovered flesh. I shivered under his touch, hooking my fingers into his waistband.

  “I need help with my bra,” I whispered. His breath was warm on my cheek as he wrapped his arms around me and unhooked the clasp. And then we were skin to skin for the first time, and instead of being terrifying, it felt absolutely right.

  Wrapping me in his arms, he kissed me until my mind was wiped of everything but him. In that moment, my past didn’t even exist for me.

  There was just the two of us.

  “Is this okay?” Alex’s hands slid between our bodies, and he tugged on the button of my jeans. My heart leapt as I murmured in the affirmative.

  He slid the button from its hole, then pulled down the zipper of my jeans. I wiggled to help him move the snug denim down my hips, shivering as the cool air hit my skin.

  “Help me with mine?” He asked, his voice ragged. I fumbled with his belt buckle, finally drawing the worn leather through the denim loops.

  Then his mouth found my nipple, and he had to do the rest himself.

  When there was nothing between us, he lowered me to the bed. I heard the tearing of cardboard, then the crinkle of foil seconds before he ranged himself over top of me.

  “Sure of yourself, are you?” I laughed breathlessly, squinting, just able to make him out as he sheathed himself in a condom. The sight made my heart stop.

  Bracing his arms on either side of me, he kissed me gently. I could feel his hardness against the soft skin of my thigh, and clenched with anticipation.

  “I’m never sure of myself with you.” He rocked his hips, and I cried out as his heat rubbed over my slickness. “But a guy can always hope.”

  I grinned, reaching down to take him in my hand. He groaned and thrust into my grip.

  “I don’t want to rush you. Are you ready?” His voice was serious. I knew that, even with his cock poised to enter my cunt, I could tell him to stop right now and he would.

  Instead I savoured the need that I could hear in Alex’s voice, and that I could feel in the trembling of his muscles.

  “I’ve been ready for weeks.” I whispered. A soft little cry escaped my lips when he slid his fingers between my legs, making sure.

  “I’ll go slow.” He groaned. I didn’t want him to—I wanted to be consumed. I arched my hips and helped guide him to my entrance, my need a physical ache.

  Slowly, so slowly, he entered me, and our voices cried out together once he was seated inside of me.

  “Okay?” He propped himself up on his elbows, nose to nose with me. I looked up into those amazing eyes that I could barely see in the dark, and that’s when I lost my heart.

  “Okay,” I agreed, lifting my hips to show him that I actually was. And then he began to move.

  It wasn’t perfect—first times never are. My nose hit his when I lifted my head for a kiss. He bit my lower lip a bit too hard when I arched up to meet his thrust and he got a little bit too excited.

  But as our movements became faster, as we both reached for that release, it was like I’d never had sex before, like my past didn’t exist—like I was untarnished. The pleasure that coiled deep in my core was pure, and I welcomed it with open arms.

  We both tensed as the wave of sensation washed over our skin; I felt him holding back, his body tense, waiting for me. Only once I had shuddered through my own release did he plunge fully into my heat and let himself go, his voice a roar as he buried his face in my hair and came.

  I stroked my palm over his hot, damp skin as I tried to catch my breath, and my eyes closed as emotion filled me up as surely as he did.

  I knew then why I’d felt so empty before I’d met him.

  I’d been waiting for him.

  Chapter Ten

  “Wow.”

  I snickered at Alex’s rather oversimplified description of what had just happened between us.

  “What?” He protested, rolling me until I faced him, wrapped in his arms. “Don’t make try for complete sentences right now. That was just… wow.”

  Though I said nothing, I silently agreed. I’d had lots of sex, but it had all been pale blue compared to the scarlet and crimson of what had just happened.

  “Will you stay overnight?” He mumbled into my hair. Drowsily, I agreed. My happiness in that moment was perfect.

  Maybe, I thought… maybe I could actually have a normal life.

  “Serena?” He asked again. Nuzzling into his neck, I smiled.

  “You’re awfully chatty after sex,” I teased him. He tensed beside me.

  “You’ve trusted me with your body now,” he started, and I felt my cloud of happiness begin to dissipate.

  “Alex, no.” I pressed my fingers against his lips, but he shook them away.

  “Serena, we’re together in every possible way. Why can’t you trust me with your secret?”

  A chill began to paint my skill, raising goose bumps where only moments earlier there had been delicious warmth.

  I felt a surge of irritation.

  “You have things you won’t tell me, too,” I snapped, pushing back from him. I sat up, holding the covers to my chest.

  Alex sat up as well, and a moment later the lamp snapped on. I gasped as I pulled the covers up to hide my arms, my shoulders. He pinched his lips tightly together at my movements, tossing his discarded T-shirt at me while he huffed out an exasperated breath.

  “There’s a big difference, Serena.” He raked his hand through his hair, making it stand up in little spikes while I tried to get the T-shirt over my head without letting my scars show.

  “You want to know about my past?” Alex shoved back the covers and climbed out of bed. Standing there, naked and unabashed, he looked a little wild, but I didn’t feel like I was in any danger.

  “When I was sixteen I lived with a couple named Karina and Joss. Joss wasn’t home a lot, and Karina did a lot of things to get attention from him.” Alex’s lips pressed together in a thin line.

  “Alex, you don’t have to tell me this.” I looked down at my fingers, feeling as if his words were tearing me in two. “Everyone has secrets.”

  “Not like this.” The crystal color of his eyes glittered with conviction. “And the two of us together, we have too much baggage to have a relationship. Not unless some of those bags go overboard.”

  The only way I could rid myself of my baggage was if I went back to the house I’d lived in as a teen. I’d have to confr
ont Felicity, to confront him.

  The thought made nausea coat my throat, and I gagged.

  “Do you want some water?” He asked, impatient. Even when he was mad at me, Alex took care of me. I didn’t understand it.

  “No.” My voice sounded dry, but if I drank even a sip I’d throw it up. I swallowed against the sandpaper of my throat, then sat back on my heels.

  Alex continued.

  “Have you ever heard of Münchausen syndrome by proxy?”

  I shook my head, though the lyrics of an old Eminem song played through my head.

  “It refers to the abuse of another person, usually a child, by their caretaker for the sake of attention.”

  “Oh, God.” My heart broke for him as I intuited what was about to follow. “No.”

  Alex nodded sharply. I wanted nothing more than to cross to him, to wrap my arms around him, to soothe the hurt away, but his arms were crossed tightly across his chest, warning me away.

  “First it started with the burns. You’ve seen the scars. She would burn me with her cigarettes, then tell the social workers that I was doing it to myself. I was a difficult teenager, and it wasn’t hard to believe.”

  My fingers itched to run over those scars. Finally, I couldn’t stand it anymore. I crawled across the bed and took his upper arms in my hands. He flinched, his expression raw, but didn’t shrug me away.

  “Then she figured out that she could use my diabetes to better effect.”

  My mouth fell open; I simply couldn’t imagine someone doing that.

  “She would overdose my insulin so that I hit what’s called an extreme low. A diabetic who passes out from low blood sugar needs a dose of something called Glucagon, which she may or may not administer right away, depending on her mood. Even if she decided to give me the Glucagon, I would be miserable for days afterwards—it doesn’t feel good. So she’d get lots of attention from that.” His words were dark. I watched as the Alex I knew and cared for retreated into his memories. I scarcely dared to breathe, afraid to disturb him.

  “On the other end of the pendulum was diabetic ketoacidosis. She would withhold insulin so that my sugars would go high. More than a day or two of that for an insulin dependent diabetic is really dangerous. But apart from restricting my intake of carbs, there wasn’t anything I could do.”

  My heart ached for the boy Alex had been.

  “Did she do stuff to Georgeanne, too?” My voice was a harsh whisper.

  Alex shook his head, his muscles tense beneath my fingers.

  “She knew Georgeanne would rat her out. She was verbally abusive, really nasty, but never physically harmed her.”

  I wanted to shut my eyes against the images his words painted, but couldn’t, not as long as he was looking at me as if I was his lifeline.

  “Why didn’t you tell anyone?”

  “I had no one to tell.” His voice was soft, low.

  “You said that Tripp got you out?” I asked softly. He nodded, a sharp, jerky motion of his head.

  “Georgeanne left as soon as she was eighteen, but she wasn’t about to leave me alone. She made noise wherever she could, telling anyone in the system who would listen about what was going on with Karina and Joss. She made a few ripples, but everyone thought she was just troubled and angry from living in foster care for so long.”

  He paused to suck in a breath. I didn’t interrupt.

  “One day she laid out her case to a very young, very new social worker, one who had been a foster kid himself. He was the only one smart enough to wonder why Georgeanne would bother making a fuss now. She was eighteen; she wasn’t in the system anymore. What was it to her?”

  “That was Tripp,” I guessed.

  “That was Tripp.” Alex blinked, and his eyes came back into focus. “He was only ten years older than I was, but he took me in as a foster kid. Kept me out of trouble. Got Karina and Joss banned from ever fostering again.”

  He turned his eyes to me, and the expression in them took my breath away.

  “I’ve never told that to anyone. I never even had to tell Tripp, because Georgeanne told him most of it.” He said. Instead of looking at me like he was daring me to still love him, he seemed… calm.

  “Now you know.” Still searching my face with his eyes, he reached out and tucked a strand of my sex snarled hair behind my ear. “And there’s nothing you can tell me that will make me think any differently of you. I promise you that, and I mean it.”

  “I believe you.” I began to shake, and the nausea that I had been holding back during his story came back full force. I hadn’t eaten since lunch, so there was nothing to come up, but Alex grabbed his wastebasket and held it under my chin while I dry heaved, my entire body shaking violently.

  He rubbed my back, the spot between my shoulder blades.

  “See? You can even make me think you’re going to puke all over my bed. I’ll still love you.”

  I froze when his word choice entered my poor bewildered brain. I turned to him with wide eyes, my lips glued shut. I couldn’t repeat it only to find that it had been a slip of the tongue.

  “I love you, Serena.” His words were matter of fact, the intent clear.

  I sat back, blinked—I was stunned.

  “Silence isn’t exactly what I’d hoped for when I said that to you.” A hint of unease slithered through the cracks of his confidence. I opened my mouth to say something, then closed it again as the words escaped me.

  “Okay. Let’s do it this way.” Placing the empty wastebasket on the ground, Alex pulled me into his lap. I buried my face in his chest, overwhelmed.

  “Do you love me, Serena?” The patience in his voice was infinite. I sucked in a breath, then nodded. I knew I didn’t imagine the relieved breath that rounded his chest when I finally agreed.

  “Do you trust me?”

  Again I nodded, but he didn’t ask any more questions. I finally looked up to find him waiting, patiently.

  “Alex, I want to tell you.” I wasn’t stalling for time. I really did want to tell him, since I’d finally clued in that telling someone simply meant sharing the burden.

  “I’m not going to judge you.”

  “I know.” It wasn’t that. The problem was that, after so many years of ingrained silence, the words simply wouldn’t come unglued.

  “I’ll try, Alex. I will. But… not tonight.” The rest of the words were stuck in my throat. He sighed, and I was terrified that I had disappointed him. But rather than shove me out the door, he laid down on the bed with me still cradled in his arms.

  “You’re right. That’s enough for one night.” Turning to his side, he pulled me into him, my face pressed against the hard planes of his chest.

  “Thank you.” I whispered. He reached over with one arm and snapped off the light. I blinked at the sudden darkness, which wrapped around me like a hug.

  “We’re made for each other.” His words were barely discernible, whispered into my hair.

  I nodded, too tired to do anything else. Worming my way even more tightly into his arms, I savored his heat, his scent, knowing that with morning would come yet more repercussions from the secrets of my past.

  Chapter Eleven

  The morning was tense and awkward, no matter that we both visibly tried to make it anything but. As Alex brewed coffee in his tiny percolator, the fact remained that I know knew his secret… and he still didn’t know mine.

  My heart was heavy when I slid on my shoes at his door. What if all of this angst was for nothing? What if we couldn’t make it work after all?

  “Hey.” He said, catching me before I slipped out the door. I had refused Alex’s offer to drive me back to campus, saying that I wanted the exercise of the walk. We both knew that I needed to clear my head after the intensity of the night before, but Alex refrained from commenting on it, even as he followed me to the door, cupped my face in his hands, and kissed me on the lips, light and sweet.

  “I’ll call you later, okay?” He said. A trickle of relief worked it
s way through me.

  If this didn’t work, it wasn’t from lack of trying.

  I had initially planned to head back to the dorm and crack my textbooks. But with Alex’s story turning over and over in my brain, I found I was too agitated to sit still. Finally I stripped out of my jeans and slid into the capris and long sleeved workout T-shirt that I usually wore to yoga.

  I didn’t head for the students’ union building though. Instead I found myself at the massive university gym. The stale smells of old sweat and sneakers filled my nose as I swiped my student id, and as I booked one of the two punching bags for the next hour.

  I’d thought I might get some strange looks as I grabbed a towel and strapped on the smallest pair of boxing gloves that the gym had. But everyone was too busy doing their own thing to pay any attention to me. My first few swings were self-conscious, but after a few minutes my breath began to quicken, my heart rate sped up, and I forgot about everything except channeling my frustration and anger into the blows that I rained on the bag.

  Thump. That was for Alex’s foster family. Thump. That was for Karina, his former foster mother.

  Thump. That was for my mother. Thump. That was for my struggles trying to have a normal relationship.

  Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump.

  Those were all for him.

  I could beat on the punching bag forever and never be rid of my anger at the man who had changed my life in the worst possible way. I wasn’t even ashamed to admit to myself that I wished the bag was him. That if I hit him hard enough, often enough, that he would understand what he had done to me.

  “Serena?”

  I startled when I heard my name, slamming into the bag with my back as I spun, my fists up and out. Maddy stood there, her hands palms out to show me she meant no harm.

  “Sorry. I didn’t mean to frighten you.” Her eyes were wide from my extreme reaction, but I saw a bit of respect in them too. “Nice form.”

  She nodded to the bag, which was still swaying on its mooring. “You ever tried kickboxing?”

  Swiping the sweat from my forehead with the back of my hand, I shook my head, then bent to pick up my water bottle. The liquid was lukewarm by now, but still felt like heaven on my throat.