I don’t know what to say. Of course he meant enough to me. He meant everything to me.
“Have a nice evening,” he says, before he opens the door and slides out of the drivers’ seat, and strides angrily into the front entrance of the hotel. I sit in the passenger seat of my own car for several moments, before I finally slide out and climb behind the wheel, to park it in the visitors’ parking area.
I am thinking about what to do next. I wonder exactly how long it will take the alcohol to leave my system, so I can drive home. I’m also wondering, in the back of my mind, if I could walk inside, ask for his room number, and allow him to do what he threatened he’d do. Take me to bed and give me a good fucking, like I haven’t had in fifteen years.
I take several deep breaths, and just as I’m about to do what I shouldn’t even be thinking of, and open the door, I’m scared out of my wits by a knocking on the passenger side window.
I almost expect it to be Lex. But I’m even more surprised when the person bends down, and I see Freddie Portland through the window. He tries to open the door, but it’s locked. I hesitate to open it, for three or four seconds, until he tried the handle again. I unlock it, and he joins me inside my tiny, expensive car.
“Well, this is one gorgeous car you have, Dr. Bell,” he says, and gives a low whistle as he touches the soft as satin leather dashboard.
“I call her the Tardis,” I admit, although I probably shouldn’t.
“Ah ha!” he exclaims, and turns toward me. “So, you’re a closet Anglophile, are you?” He puffs his chest out, and his cheeks become bright pink. I swear somehow his accent is even stronger, if that’s possible.
I roll my eyes, and I’m sure my face is redder than his. “Don’t tell anyone!” I exclaim, with an exaggerated groan.
“Your secret is safe with me,” he offers, genteelly. “If you answer one question.”
Oh, God, here we go. More questions. I left the gala to avoid his questions. I’m not sure my secret is worth that high a price.
“Why did you fake an emergency to escape such an important night?” His normally dark blue eyes appear somehow even darker. I have no idea how. “Was it because of Alexander Astor?”
Maybe it’s the alcohol. Maybe I’m just tired of the lies. Maybe, even though I am crazy about all things British, I am already tired of the Duke of Portland. So, the truth it is.
“I don’t like questions about my past, and honestly I was feeling pressured by you. I didn’t like it, Your Grace.” I’m gazing into his eyes as I say it, and when I’m finished I turn to stare out the windshield, at the hotel that I know Lex is inside, somewhere. It makes me feel even worse.
“You could have been honest with me,” he says gently. “You could have told me my fault, and I would have apologized without taking offense.” He takes my hand, which I realize has been gripping the steering wheel until my knuckles were white, and holds it inside both of his. “I’m sorry, Olivia. The last thing I want to do is to offend you.”
“Why?” I demand, as I try to remove my hand from his. But he holds it tighter, and pulls it to his lips to gently kiss it.
“Why, what, love?” he murmurs, as he kisses my fingertips one at a time.
“Why are you apologizing because I ran out? Why are you here? Why do you care?” My voice is getting progressively louder.
“Shhhh, love,” he soothes me, while stroking the inside of my wrist. “I admit I followed you when I saw Alexander bundle you into this beautiful blue car. I was curious.” He shrugs his shoulders. “I hear you were engaged to him, and then you’re getting in the car with him. And I care because, well, I care about you.”
“I can’t sit here outside his hotel any longer,” I mumble, and start the car again.
“We could go inside, and I could get a room,” he suggests. “Or we could go back to my hotel. Or we could go to your place.”
When did this morph into we? I left the party to get away from him. Now he’s sitting in my car, apologizing, getting all intimate, and saying we. There is no we!
“I don’t feel like having sex tonight,” I say, even though I’ve thought about having sex with Lex since I saw him. I might have given in, too, if Freddie hadn’t shown up. He’s probably already in there with his fiancée now, anyway.
He gasps loudly. I don’t care if he’s offended. I’m not going to have sex unless I feel like it, no matter how good he looks in a tux, or how British he is. He releases my hand, and it’s so abrupt it falls onto his thigh. I pull it back to the steering wheel, and again hold on tight.
He’s quiet for several moments, until I turn toward him and see the look of shock on his face. “You really know how to hit below the belt, don’t you?”
“What?”
His blue eyes are almost black now, and his cheeks are pale white. I think I might have upset him. “You think the only thing I want you for is sex?”
I remember a guy at Stanford, Phil. We were both residents. He was good looking but not like Lex. He was sweet, comfortable. We went out together several times. I always paid for my half. I didn’t want it to seem like a date date.
One evening he walked me back to my apartment. My roommate was out for the night. One thing led to another and we had sex. He was the first guy I’d slept with since Lex, almost seven later. Then we did it again. And again. He assumed we were dating. I was still in love with Lex, and I told him. He got mad at me, very mad. He started to try to sabotage my work at the hospital. Our attending physician pulled us aside, and strongly admonished both of us. All I had done was tell Phil the truth.
After that, I learned my lesson, and it was three more years before I allowed another man to touch me. It was another doctor at the hospital I worked at in California, before returning to DC. I set out the ground rules from the beginning, but he became attached. That’s why I came back home, I moved across the country to get away from him. You’d think I’d have learned by now. But seeing Lex that first time brought all of the latent desires that I’d kept hidden for so long out into the light. And he was married, which meant that he was completely off limits, and whatever slim chance I had at reconciling with him was gone. That’s when I started sleeping with random strangers at conferences. I could have sex with them, and not have to see them again.
“Maybe it’s all I want.” It’s barely more than a whisper, but he hears me in the confined space. I don’t look at him as I speak. I’m almost ashamed. I can’t tell him the truth, though.
“Well you’re a bloody piece of work, aren’t you, doctor?” he complains. “What did Astor do to you to scar you so badly?”
Which Astor? I want to say. But, since I’m feeling so truthful, for some reason, in the confines of my car, I admit it. Out loud. “Lex didn’t hurt me. I left him fifteen years ago to attend medical school.” I only omit the reason, that Vivienne Astor paid me to do it. Saying that out loud would be worse than saying I was a hooker through medical school. I didn’t get paid for the use of my body. I got paid to betray the person I loved. The only man I’ll ever love. Lex.
He chuckles. Then he laughs. And he keeps laughing, until he has to wipe his eyes from crying. “You left one of the richest men on the planet to become a doctor?”
“Well, that’s a very simplistic way of looking at it, but I guess I did.”
He laughs again, and I smile although I’m not sure why. “I swear I want you even more now. I’m going to have you walking down the aisle to me within a year. I promise,” he exclaims confidently. And although he’s still laughing, I’m stunned. Why does a duke want a doctor so badly? A car pulls up behind mine, and he exclaims, “That’s my ride.” I nod. He gives me a quick kiss on my cheek, before he opens the door. “I’ll see you soon.”
I nod, and watch as his car leaves the lot and pulls out into the street. That’s when I open my own door, and nervously walk toward the entrance I watched Alexander enter earlier.
I almost back out three times, before I approach the front desk. “Alexand
er Astor’s room?” I ask the young man behind it. I hear my voice catch.
“May I ask who is enquiring?” he replies.
“Dr. Bell.” It always sounds so much more official when I introduce myself as a doctor, even when I’m wearing a lacy black ball gown.
“Penthouse two,” he replies immediately. Then he picks up a card which I notice is sitting beside the keyboard. I guess Alexander expected I might follow him, and left a key for me. “Swipe the key in the elevator before pressing the PH2 button.”
I want to back out. I can see my hand is shaking as I reach out and take the key. But I do take it. I take a deep breath and exhale before I say, “Thank you.”
Chapter Nine
May 14, 2016
The elevator doors open to a pretty entryway which is about six feet long and leads toward an open door. The floor is a cream marble with copper colored veins, and the walls are the palest eggshell. Copper framed mirrors hang facing each other, over copper tables with marble tops. Two intricate, artistic spiral copper chandeliers hang overhead, about three feet apart. My heels click on the floor as I walk toward the door.
The lights are low inside the suite, and as I take a step over the threshold I see him, standing near a wet bar in front of floor to ceiling windows. The Washington monument is so close, it looks like it’s right outside his window. Although it’s late, the sweeping view of the city is gorgeous. Everything is lit up, the monument, the Capitol, and the Lincoln memorial.
And then there’s the most beautiful thing within my view, Alexander Astor. I stand and stare for several moments, because he’s shirtless. He’s wearing only the black trousers, with his right hand in his pocket, and his left hand holding a drink.
What am I doing here? Why I am I here?
I know why I’m here.
His words in my car are echoing in my head. I’m more than happy to fuck you. And I am just buzzed enough to want to find out if he will.
His back is broader, more muscular. His waist, somehow, seems slimmer. That’s not possible for a man approaching forty. There’s a shadow on his lower back, where skin meets fabric. His ass is as round and firm as it was when he played lacrosse, when he ran five miles and did a hundred squats a day. I wonder what he will look like naked. I want, more than I’ve ever wanted anything, to find out.
He turns, and I can see his beautiful profile, his long straight nose and perfect jaw. I am far more nervous now than I was downstairs. “Would you like a drink?”
I clear my throat before speaking. “No, thank you.”
“Come here, Liv,” he says, and reaches out his right hand to me. He doesn’t appear nervous. His voice is strong and sure. I take a few more steps toward him, and he finally looks back at me. I gasp, and stop. He doesn’t look angry. The corners of his full lips are almost smiling. “Come to me now.”
All the longing, all the sadness I’ve felt over the last fifteen years gathers in my chest, accompanied by an overwhelming ache. But that’s nothing, compared to the raw need I feel deep inside me. I want him, from the depths of my womanhood. I yearn for him. I have sex with random men to fill the void I created inside myself when I walked away from him, and no matter how much meaningless sex I have it is never enough.
I reach out my hand to touch his, and it’s like an electric shock on my skin. Our eyes meet, and I think he feels it too. I exhale loudly as he moves toward me. “You’re still the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, Liv.”
Shyly, as if I’m still twenty-one, I look down toward the floor. He places the glass on the bar beside me, and reaches out his hand to lift my chin up. I’m forced to look into his leaf green eyes. My entire body becomes covered in goose bumps when I see the intensity in his gaze.
“I’ve spent so much time hating you, I’d almost forgotten how it felt to be this close to you, facing you. I’d almost forgotten how damn much I would give just to kiss you.” His voice is gravelly, rough with pain and memories.
His shoulders are massive, his chest is vast, and his abs are glorious. He has a little more body hair, a little less body fat, and more muscles than I’ve ever seen.
My lips are quivering, and my knees are shaking so hard I’m surprised I’m still standing. I’ve slept with men, I’ve kissed them, but I haven’t felt anticipation like this since him. His fingers move from my chin, down over my neck. I sigh loudly at the sheer pleasure I feel at his touch.
“Lex,” I murmur.
“You said my name.” His voice rumbles from deep in his chest. His hand moves around my throat, to the back of my neck, and pulls me closer still. “Touch me.”
Hesitantly I reach out both hands, and they encounter his ribcage. His intake of breath is a low hiss, almost as if I’ve hurt him. “I’m sorry…” I whisper, and move to pull back.
“No,” he growls. “Don’t pull away. Don’t stop touching me.”
He bends down and his lips take mine. His right hand moves to my back, and then he begins to unzip the dress. I’m nervous, because I know this is different. This isn’t a causal fuck. Lex is the love of my life, the one I let slip away. Lex is everything I’ve ever wanted. Lex is the reason no one else has touched my heart. His tongue presses into me, and it’s hard and unforgiving as it explores my mouth. I react differently. Once I was passive and allowed him to make love to me, but I am different now.
I wrap my hands around him, and shove my chest into his body as I suck his tongue into mine. Suddenly I feel the dress slide down onto the floor. Then his hands are on the backs of my thighs lifting me up. My legs wrap around his waist, as I grab onto him. But then I feel the cold glass of the window against my back. My hands move down, over his chest, to work on his belt, as his hands move up to unsnap my bra.
Neither of us breaks the kiss, and somehow we are working in harmony toward the same goal. His belt is unbuckled, his pants unbuttoned, and I encounter the soft cotton of his briefs. At the same time, my bra is pulls off my shoulders, and swiftly removed. We don’t say anything. There’s no need. I squirm up his body to pull down his clothes, and his hands caress my breasts. He’s not gentle, he’s firm and rough as he pinches and tugs.
Before I can take him into my aching pussy, he lowers me to the floor. I feel a soft rug against my back, and his hipbones on my thighs. Then I cry out as his big hard cock fills me. I’d forgotten just how big he is. God, even his dick is somehow bigger. His mouth takes in my almost tortured noises, and responds with even louder moans.
I push up into him, and he thrusts every fucking inch into me, hard and fast. We didn’t need gentle foreplay. We didn’t need to arouse desire in the other. It’s always been there, from the first moment I saw him, and it’s been burning for fifteen years.
His hands are all over my body, and I am exploring his biceps, his pecs, and his lats that seem to grow even bigger under my hand. He’s pounding into me with his rock hard body, and still somehow it’s not enough. I bury my fingernails into his back, and he shoves harder, deeper, until he finds that spot that makes me come completely undone.
I think I’m screaming, but I don’t know because he’s still kissing me. He’s grunting, and groaning, and pushing, until he grinds one last thrust into me, and I feel him expanding inside me. He’s coming inside me, at the same moment that I am finding my release. Just like we used to do.
I’m panting, somehow breathing his breaths. I might be stealing the air from his lungs, but he doesn’t seem to mind. He doesn’t break away, not even to breathe. Our bodies are entwined, together, on the floor of his gorgeous suite which doesn’t matter to either of us. We could just as soon be in a cheap motel, because all we see, all we feel, all we are is each other.
We are one again. We are…
“What the fuck are you doing, Alexander?” I feel his body become tense at the same time I hear the high, almost childish voice speak the words. “Who the fuck is this? Is this why you didn’t want me at the party tonight?”
In one fluid, athletic movement he pulls away from
me, and stands. Since his pants are still hanging off his hips, it’s easy for him to cover his nakedness. Me, on the other hand, I’m lying on my back on the floor, several feet away from my elegant lace dress.
“Now is not a good time, Selena.” His tone is almost a warning.
I’m almost too ashamed to open my eyes. I knew he was engaged when I came to his room. Hell, I saw the pretty young brunette with him earlier. Still that didn’t deter me from wanting him. I didn’t expect to be in this position, though. I didn’t expect to actually get caught in the act with him.
“Who is she, huh? Another one of your bimbos?” she screams, and storms into the suite.
I don’t look up at him. I can’t. I feel the dress being laid gently on my bare chest. I sit up, pull the dress over my shoulders, and as I stand it falls down over my hips. I’m still wearing my shoes. I still haven’t opened my eyes. But I’m assaulted with a litany of Spanish words that I don’t understand. I’m sure she’s cussing me out.
He grabs my shoulder but I pull away. Where did I put my purse?
He bends forward to whisper in my ear, “Don’t leave me again.”
I turn quickly, and my nose encounters his chest. I look up, and his bright green eyes are pleading with me to stay.
“This is it, Alexander. This is the last straw!” I hear her footsteps coming closer.
I can’t stay, and be in the middle of this. I shake my head. He places my purse in my hands, and I move away from him. I hear her screaming at him in Spanish sprinkled with English. I don’t look back. I run out the door, even when I hear him telling her to stop. I hear blows hitting flesh. I stop and turn quickly, to find her tiny little fists hitting his huge chest.
He reaches out to grab her wrists, but he’s staring at me. “Please don’t leave, Liv,” he begs. But I shake my head.
This was stupid, even for me. As suddenly as she started hitting him, she stops. She begins to cry, and throws herself onto the floor. He steps away from her then, as if he’s going to follow me.
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