Unspoken (The Prose Series Book 1)

by Sofia Tate

  “Okay.”

  Pop kisses me on the forehead again. “Be right back.”

  I blink my eyes and give him a smile.

  I watch him leave, then turn my head to the window. It’s daylight. I can’t see any tall buildings, so I have no idea where I am, but I assume I’m somewhere in Queens.

  “They were out of half and half, Sean, so I got you—”

  My head pivots to the door where Beatrice is standing with two Styrofoam cups in her hands. She gasps at the sight of me, her mouth dropping. The cups begin to shake in her hands as her throat catches.

  Moisture begins to form in the corners of my eyes. “You’d better put those down before you drop them, Buzzy.”

  I can barely hear her whisper, “Oh my God.”

  The most beautiful sound in the whole fucking world.

  My eyes never leave her, taking in her beauty as she walks to me, gently placing the cups on a side table, then turning to me, caressing my face with her right hand.

  “Hi,” she says with such a sweet smile.

  “Hi yourself. Been here long?”

  Her long, tapered fingers run softly over my stubble. “As long as you have, Full Ride.”

  “Which has been?”

  “Four days. You’re at New York-Pres in Flushing.”

  I snicker to myself. “Wow. The Park Avenue Princess spending all this time with the bridge-and-tunnel crowd. Call Page Six.”

  She shrugs her shoulders. “Eh. Queens isn’t so bad.”

  My eyes grow wide. “Really? Since when?”

  Bea looks away.

  With the arm that’s apparently not broken, I raise it to take her hand in mine. “Hey, what is it?”

  She doesn’t move.

  “Look at me, Buzzy. What’s wrong?”

  She glances at the floor. “You’re here because of me.”

  “What?”

  She finally turns back to me and starts to cry full-on, my heart breaking at the sight of her. “If I hadn’t have been so damn stubborn and given you a chance to explain, you wouldn’t have fallen off the building.”

  “Let me get this straight. You think you caused me to fall off the building?”

  She looks away from me, nodding furiously.

  I sigh to myself.

  Lord, give me strength with this woman.

  “Okay. Let me ask you this. Did you have any hand in changing the weather patterns that day?”

  Still not looking at me, she shakes her head.

  “Were you the one who forgot to check the safety nets in the morning?”

  “No,” she replies, her throat clogged with tears.

  “Then you didn’t cause anything, baby. It was a freak accident. Shit happens on a construction site.”

  Finally, she turns to me, her emerald eyes wet and soft with worry and pain. “I know, but this time, it happened to you, and I thought I’d lost you forever and I never had the chance to tell you that I still love you and—”

  What the fuck…

  I tug sharply on her hand. “Repeat that.”

  “Ow!”

  “Woman, repeat what you just said.”

  “That hurt, Aiden!”

  “Excuse me? That hurt?”

  She pauses, looking down at the state of me. “Sorry. But yes, it did,” she whispers.

  I laugh to myself and pull on her hand again. “Say it again, Buzzy.”

  “Ow! I still love you.”

  I inhale a deep breath. “Again.”

  Beatrice Eleanor Parker, the woman I love more than my fucking life, leans in closer to me, her eyes still wet with tears, taking my face between her hands, staring deeply into my eyes. “I love you, Aiden. I’ll always love you.”

  Finally.

  “Kiss me, Buzzy,” I order.

  Her lush mouth hovers over mine momentarily, giving me a gentle brush over my lips before slowly inserting her tongue into my mouth. I accept it greedily, sucking on it as if it were sweet candy. She presses herself harder into me as I reach up to grab her hair with my good hand, pulling her into me, her perfume intoxicating my nose.

  “He woke up just—”

  The voice of my father fills the space of my small hospital room.

  “Your son seems to be well on his way to recovery,” a male voice observes, who I assume is my doctor.

  I hear the sound of a closing door, my lips never leaving Bea’s.

  Bea

  I stare at the ceiling of the guest room in the Dwyer home.

  I reach over for my phone on the nightstand. 2 AM.

  Aiden and I have been inseparable since the accident. His father asked me to stay with them after he was released from the hospital, which I wasn’t too sure about at first because I didn’t want to impede Aiden’s recovery, and my persistent guilt about causing his fall didn’t help either. But after a few nights with them, I knew why Sean asked me for help.

  Because Aiden Dwyer, the love of my life, is a stubborn son of a bitch.

  He refuses to take his pain meds even when I can see him suffering and wincing because he insists he can “handle it.” And he’ll walk without his crutches when neither Sean or I aren’t with him.

  I turn over and try to get back to sleep when I hear a thump next door. My room shares a wall with Aiden’s. I pull on my robe and slide my feet into my slippers.

  The floor creaks as I make my way to Aiden. When I push the door open, I’m stunned into silence by the sight in front of me.

  Aiden is sitting upright in his bed, trying to push himself off. One of his crutches is lying on the floor next to him, which is usually leaning on the nightstand next to his bed, but obviously fell when he tried to use it to get up.

  And he’s shirtless. When I kissed him goodnight, he had been wearing a T-shirt.

  I can’t believe him. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

  “What does it look like? I have to go to the bathroom, and I didn’t want to wake you.”

  I march the few steps to him, pointing my finger in his face. “Do not move until I get back! Am I clear?”

  Something in my facial expression must’ve gotten through to him, because he freezes and quietly answers, “Okay.”

  I storm down to the kitchen and grab the biggest, sharpest knife I can find on the counter. I take it by the handle and make my way back up to his room.

  When I finally reach him, I hold out the knife to him, handle first. “Here.”

  “Bea, what’s going on?” he mutters worriedly.

  “If you insist on killing yourself, then let me speed up the process for you. Or if you’d rather not, then give it to me so I can do it to myself.”

  “Buzzy, there’s no need for melodrama…”

  I explode. “This isn’t fucking melodrama, Aiden! Do you know how high the risk of infection is for you right now? And what if you fall again? You can hurt yourself even worse. You are still alive only by some miracle and that goddamn hardhat you were wearing. So if you want to do things your way and not listen to your doctor, your father, or me, be my guest. Have at it. Because I’m not going to stick around to see you kill yourself. I already thought I lost you once.”

  I don’t even realize the knife is shaking in my hand until Aiden reaches out to steady my wrist, gently unclasping my hand and taking it from me, placing it carefully on his nightstand.

  “Come here,” he whispers.

  I sit down next to him as he takes me in his arms, holding me tightly to him. “I’m so sorry, baby. I promise I won’t do that again. I love you.”

  “I love you too.”

  He pulls his head back to give me a long, soft kiss that curls my toes. “Good. Now help me to the bathroom because I really need to take a piss.”

  22

  Six months later

  The West Coast of Ireland

  Bea

  Lying on a sheepskin rug, I run a hand over Aiden’s chest, the hair in some places still growing back from being shaved for surgery. I lean in and kiss all
of his scars in worship. His head lies on a pillow, one of his arms folded under his head, the other playing with my hair. A warm fire crackles in front of us, keeping us heated.

  After Aiden got his doctor’s approval for this trip, which his father and I insisted on before we left, he rented a cottage for us in Ireland on the outskirts of Galway, which I knew was not a mistake on his part, just a cheeky way of honoring his onscreen alter ego. It’s not equipped with Wi-Fi, which I don’t mind in the slightest. After the past few months, all I wanted was to be alone with Aiden far away from New York City, especially the press, after I “broke up” with Porter. That’s the reason Aiden and I only check our emails once a day when we stroll down to the local pub for lunch to use their free Wi-Fi.

  The cottage is whitewashed on the outside and cozy on the inside with only one bedroom and a small kitchen and bathroom, but the living room has enough room for us to spend nights like these spread out in front of the fire and make love until the sun comes up, or until we both fall asleep from exhaustion, whichever comes first.

  The only family member still talking to me is Seb. My parents will just have to accept the fact that their perfect daughter is now with an Ivy League-educated, blue-collar construction worker.

  I still have to talk to Aiden about the magazine and my plans for it. Seb’s taken over some of the logistics of the magazine, specifically how to best launch the transition from print to digital. It’s still an uphill climb, but it turns out he’s pretty clever with money when he puts his mind to it. From what Marisol has texted me, she’s impressed with his devotion to the magazine, having meetings with her to discuss her future investment in Park and how the funds would best serve the magazine. Even though I had so many misgivings about mixing business and friendship, Marisol went over my head directly to my parents, and now she and Seb are making it work.

  I run my hand over Aiden’s chest.

  “Aiden.”

  “Right here, babe.”

  “I’ve been thinking about the magazine.”

  “What about it?”

  “Helping Sebastian. Taking over as editor. Using some of my inheritance to keep it going. Hiring some younger freelance staff to cover events. What do you think?”

  He turns on his side to face me. “It sounds like you’ve been doing a lot of thinking.”

  I laugh to myself. “Yeah, I guess I have. That’s the first time I’ve actually said all that out loud. It felt good.”

  “I bet it did.”

  “I think this is something my grandfather would want me to do. I want to make him proud.”

  Aiden kisses me softly. “I’m sure he would be. We also need to think about something else.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Where we’re going to live.”

  I nod. “I know. Someplace that’s convenient for both of us.”

  “Would you…”

  “What?”

  He pauses. “Would you consider Queens?”

  My heart softens, tearing up at the thought of all the trips back and forth to his house when we were just fooling around, my overnight stays at the hospital, and sleeping next door to him when he was finally home.

  “I don’t care where we live, as long as we’re together.”

  He gasps, grabbing his chest. “Oh my God! Call an ambulance! I’m having a heart attack! The Park Avenue Princess just confirmed she’s moving to Queens!”

  I smack his arm. “That’s not funny, smartass!” A thought suddenly strikes me. “Come on, let’s go get a nightcap at the pub.”

  “We were just there for lunch, baby.”

  “I know, but after our strenuous workout and heavy conversation, I’m in the mood for a walk.”

  He leans over to give me a long, deep kiss. “Whatever my Buzzy wants.”

  I smile wickedly to myself.

  Aiden

  Taking Bea by the hand, we walk into the pub, packed with its regulars. A live band is playing on the small stage. The barman greets us by name as we walk by, sliding into two empty stools.

  “Order me a Bailey’s over ice. I’ll be right back,” Bea shouts into my ear over the noise of the crowd.

  “Where’re you going?”

  “Bathroom.”

  I place my order, pulling my phone out to check my email. There’s a message from Seb checking in to see how we are.

  I can see how much the estrangement from her parents is taking a toll on Bea. She would never admit it, but I know she’s hurting. She’s giving up her privileged life for me, even though she says that her trust fund is irrevocable thanks to her grandfather. But I’m determined to make her life as easy as possible and take care of her and protect her from anything and anyone that would try to hurt her.

  But Seb is still my best friend. He doesn’t give a shit that I don’t come from money, and I have too much blackmail potential on him to ever end our friendship.

  I’m glad I decided to take Bea away from everything. I needed the break as much as she did. My family was always stopping by when I was recovering, at least when Bea, my watchdog, allowed them to see me. And poor Tommy…every time he’d visit, that poor kid put up a brave front at first, but inevitably, he’d leave in tears, the guilt crushing him that he’d caused my accident, despite my efforts to convince him that he wasn’t to blame.

  My phone pings when a new email pops up in my inbox. From Bea. The subject line reads “From 10280girl.”

  I smile so widely on my face that my muscles begin to hurt. I quickly open the message.

  “The Best Alarm Clock Ever”

  Something is fluttering on my chest.

  I awaken to see your gorgeous blue eyes staring back at me as you rub your nose, then your rough morning stubble, against my plump right breast. It tickles, but I love it. Your eyes brighten when you see I'm awake.

  Fuck, that feels so good.

  “Good morning, Sir,” I mumble, reaching with my hand to run my fingers through your soft hair.

  “Good morning, baby,” you reply, murmuring under your breath right before taking my nipple into your mouth, swallowing it whole.

  You start to suckle on it as I lay my head back down on the pillow and moan in pleasure, savoring the feel of your hair under my fingers and your hot mouth on my tit.

  And then I sense your right hand moving down my belly to my pussy and you search for my clit, which isn't too difficult a task because I'm already drenched from your ministrations on my breast.

  “Oh, fuck yes,” I moan.

  My entire body begins to buck as you finger-fuck me, inserting another digit as you rub my clit simultaneously.

  I'm going to come so hard, but then you quickly pull your fingers out, and I whimper my disappointment.

  “Please, don't stop, Sir,” I beg.

  I smell my essence under my nose. When I open my eyes, your index finger is tracing my bottom lip.

  “Open,” you command.

  Without hesitation, I open my mouth and accept your fingers, sucking on them long and deep, never taking my eyes from yours.

  “Good girl,” you whisper in a raw voice.

  I manage to mumble, “Always,” in reply as I continue feasting on your fingers. I so enjoy pleasing you.

  Without warning, you pull your fingers from my mouth and lean over me as you straddle my body.

  “I'm going to fuck you now, baby,” you declare.

  “Thank you, Sir,” I reply, my heart pounding in my chest from the anticipation of having you inside me.

  Your cock eases seamlessly into my soaked pussy. You start thrusting inside me, pushing me farther against the headboard. I grab your thighs...so strong, so muscled, so fucking powerful, and I know I could come just from the thought of them as you pound into me.

  Your primal grunts, and my screams of ecstasy, echo throughout the room. We're both so close. I look up at your face, your eyes shut from the sheer male strength of you fucking me so hard and deep, the corded veins in your neck threatening to burst from your fle
sh as you near your release.

  I have never been more turned on, more aroused than this moment, this visual of pure male sexual power. I clench my muscles down on your cock. With one last thrust from you, I scream, shuddering from the orgasm that overcomes my entire body.

  I milk your cock to the last drops of cum, watching as you growl your own orgasm.

  You collapse onto me. I gently encircle you with my arms, running my fingernails over your perspired back to cool you down. Our panting breaths match in speed.

  Finally, once our pulses regulate, you turn your face to mine, and I take your mouth in a very long, very wet, very deep kiss.

  We finally manage to pull ourselves apart. I lean my head up to whisper into your ear, “Best alarm clock ever, Sir.”

  You look at me and give me a wicked grin in wordless reply, right before you clamp your mouth over mine, fusing my swollen lips with yours.

  I shake my head in surprise and appreciation.

  It’s from this morning. Everything we did. All of it.

  A warm body slides onto the stool next to me. “Hey, honey. Anything happen while I was gone?”

  She innocently picks up her drink and takes a long sip. When she glances over at me, I can’t wipe the damn grin off my face. I grab her head and pull her to me, kissing her long and deep.

  When I pull back, she smirks at me slyly, reaching for her glass and holding it up to me as a toast. “Sláinte.”

  The memory of that night at Flanagan’s flashes in my mind. I clink my Guinness with her Bailey’s. “Sláinte, Buzzy.”

  I take a long sip. The band starts to wind down the song they’re singing now, which spurs me into action. I jump up from my chair, rushing for the stage before they can play something new. I hear Bea shout my name behind me.

  I wave to the singer and whisper in his ear. He nods and turns back to the band to tell them what they’ll be singing next.

  I elbow my way through the crowd back to Bea and hold out my hand to her. “Dance with me, Buzzy.”

  She smiles and nods, placing her small hand in mine.

  I lead her to the dance floor and take her in my arms as the singer launches into the first lines from “Irish Heartbeat.”