by Nadia Lee
I still don’t know what I’d been planning when I called Elizabeth earlier today and asked her where Lucas was. She told me, but she didn’t offer any encouragement. Perverse woman. She could’ve spared a kind word, now that I’ve decided to follow her advice.
I tried so hard to convince myself I could move on—that I had moved on. But that’s a lie. My eyes trace the chiseled lines of his face and tall, strong body, my heart galloping like a thoroughbred at a race.
His expression is shuttered. “Why are you here, Ava? Most people avoid toxic waste.”
I wince. He’ll never forgive me for that…will he? He’s going to throw me out the second I tell him what I’m here to say.
“I didn’t give you the five minutes you were entitled to,” I blurt out.
If possible, he seems to grow even remoter. “I don’t want them anymore.”
“But—”
“You can leave.” He starts to turn away.
“No! I have to tell you something.”
“I think you made your point with the pot.”
I ignore him. “I should’ve told you before, but I was too afraid.”
He finally swivels his head my way, genuine surprise in his gaze. “What do you have to fear?”
“When…” I lick my dry lips. “When I learned about the deal…I was devastated. I always felt like what we had was too good to be true.”
Something like pain crosses his expression. “It was too good to be true,” he agrees, his voice soft.
I shake my head. “It’s more than that, Lucas.”
He waits, neither encouraging nor discouraging me. But his gaze is so cold, I feel like my organs are freezing one by one.
If I don’t tell him how I really feel about him, this is over. But if I tell him and he turns away…
The strange nightmare I had in Charlottesville floods my mind. I can’t draw in any air—it’s as though there’s a big fist clenched around my neck. The cityscape behind him, Lucas is as brilliant and radiant as in my dream.
What if he rejects me? What if he knows, with that unerring instinct that well-cultured and moneyed people have, that I’m not worth it? That I’m good enough for some temporary fun, but nothing else?
My heart thunders, and I can’t get the words out.
Suddenly he shakes his head. “You should go. I have plans for the day.”
He’s going to marry Faye. If I let him go like this… Oh my God. My legs are shaking, and cold sweat mists my spine. “I was in love with you.”
The words come out in a barely audible whisper, but his entire demeanor hardens. The lines on his face are harsher, colder and more aloof. My mouth is so dry, my lips and tongue feel like dead leaves.
“Then why did you say it was over? Why did you call me toxic?” His voice has no inflection. Just a terrifying calm…and something else I can’t process at the moment.
“Because…” I’m jittery all over. I’ve never been this nervous in my life. “I never wanted to be in love with you. I was afraid.”
“Bullshit. I told you I loved you. I said it first.”
“I didn’t think you meant it.”
His hands clench into fists. “Why are you telling me this now?” His jaw flexes. “Is this some kind of game? Didn’t I give you enough money?”
“I never wanted your money!”
I’m shaking so hard I can’t think or speak. The right words all disappear from my mind when faced with his implacable façade. I blindly reach for something to steady myself and grasp the back of an armchair. My knuckles whiten, and I start to lose the feeling in my hand.
Start at the beginning. It’s always easier that way.
“I don’t know if I’m doing the right thing by being here. Maybe I’m making a mistake. I’ve been miserable without you, even though I told myself I was better off on my own. Then I saw you kiss Faye, and it was like somebody took a sledgehammer to my heart. It still feels that way every time I think about it. Then your sister told me I was the one at fault. Because I didn’t fight for you.” I close my eyes, hoping it’ll help me focus. It doesn’t work that well, but at least I can block out Lucas’s impassive face. “I never fought for what I wanted because I never found anything—or anyone—I wanted badly enough. Then when I found you, I couldn’t bring myself to fight because I was certain I’d never be allowed to keep the prize. You’re so perfect, so…everything. Why would you be with someone like me?”
Silence stretches, and I open my eyes, unable to bear the suspense. Lucas is studying me with the oddest expression on his face.
“Why not? What’s wrong with you?” he asks, his voice hushed.
My throat closes. I should’ve known he wasn’t going to let the past go so easily. I should’ve known I cut him too deeply, that he’d want to see me bleed. “I’ll go. Sorry I interrupted your day.”
I hardly take a step before his hand closes around my wrist. “No, you can’t leave like this. Answer the question—what is wrong with you?”
I yank on my arm, but he holds firm. “What’s wrong with me? Isn’t it obvious?”
“No.”
“I’m a mess!” I fling my free arm. “I’m exactly the kind of girl people like you fuck on the side but don’t date, don’t introduce to your family, don’t think about long-term.”
“Why not?”
“Look at me and look at you. I was raised by an uneducated single mom who didn’t know any better. She thought she could get my dad to marry her if she had me, but it wasn’t enough. He was happy to come by, play daddy when it suited him…and then leave—go back to his perfect upper-middle-class family. Mom and I were just props so he could play at being some rough, blue-collar guy when he was bored with his suburban life.”
Realization dawns on his face, but I turn away.
“Let me go, Lucas.”
“Why did you come here?”
I shake my head. It’s too humiliating.
“I’m not letting you go until you tell me.” When I press my lips together, he shakes me. “Tell me, damn you. What did you think you could gain by coming here?”
“I don’t know.” Liar. Liar. Every cell in my body begs to leave. I can’t stay here anymore and endure the pain or humiliation. I should’ve accepted I lost. The time to fight was in Charlottesville, not now.
“Ava, tell me.”
His visible eye is narrowed, and his nostrils flare. I’m going to have to hit rock bottom, and then bring out a shovel, before he lets me go. “Because Elizabeth told me you’re going to marry Faye. Because I thought if I bared myself to you, things might change.”
“So you’re here to fight…for me?”
“Fight…” I sniffle, then shrug helplessly. “I don’t know how to fight. We can’t go back in time and erase all the harsh words between us.” I drop my gaze. “It was a mistake for me to come, and I’m sorry.”
“Is that all you’re feeling? Just regret?”
I close my eyes for a moment. I don’t want to tell him, but I owe him that much. After all, he bared everything to me before. “No. I feel…defeated. Hollow. You stole my heart twice. I could’ve survived the first time, but the second…” I swallow. “I’m never going to be whole. I’m in love with you. Always have been. You’re an impossible man to fall out of love with.” I exhale roughly, my entire being wrung out. “Will you let go now? Please?”
“I can’t.”
His palms cradle my face, and his mouth crashes down on mine. My thoughts fry, and I let go of everything except the incredible sensation his kiss elicits within me. I part my lips, brush my tongue against his and feel the groan vibrating from his chest. He tastes just like I remember—the sweetest and most amazing homecoming.
I dig my fingers into his hair, hold him tightly to me, afraid if I don’t, he’s going to slip away…just like in my dream. I’ll die if this is just a figment of my imagination.
Now that I have him in my arms, I feel like a starving woman before a banquet table. I breathe in his s
cent—all male and heat—and feel his body against mine—powerful, sinewy, vibrating with tension.
The edge of my teeth scrape his lip, and a coppery tang laces our kiss. I should be sorry, maybe, but I’m not. He deepens the kiss until all I feel is lush heat blossoming in my belly and spreading throughout.
He pushes my dress up, bunching the skirt around my waist. My leg wraps around his thigh like a vine. His rough fingers dig into my thighs and ass. I whimper, then drag the dress up and up until it’s over my head and lost somewhere in the room. My bra gets a similarly unceremonious disposal while Lucas tugs at my thong impatiently. I hear fabric tear and couldn’t care less. I’m delirious with the idea of feeling his skin soon.
I devour his mouth while yanking at the buttons on his shirt. My hands are clumsy. They barely manage to get two buttons undone before Lucas rips the shirt apart, buttons flying everywhere, and flings the expensive garment like it’s yesterday’s garbage. I unbuckle his belt and slacks and push them down along with his boxers. His cock springs out, thick and hard.
He kicks off his shoes and clothes, and we’re at each other. My back presses against the cool, papered wall, and I groan at how amazing his bare skin feels against me. Every nerve in my body is electrified, and a delicious heat courses through me. This…this must be how a desert feels when the first drop of rain hits. My skin’s hypersensitive, and even the slightest friction of his chest hair against my torso feels like a rasp.
His fingers dig into my ass, and I spread my legs as widely as I can and cradle his erection within my drenched folds. A harsh groan rumbles in his throat, and I whimper softly at the empty ache that amplifies even more.
“Tell me again,” he orders.
“I’m in love with you.”
He enters me in a long, powerful stroke. I cry out at the heady sensation of being joined with him. He’s huge, so thick, so perfect—my man, my lover, the greatest and most treasured piece of my soul.
He stills. “Again.”
“I’m in love with you.”
He moves. “Again.”
“I’m in love with you. Love with you. Love with you.”
He drives into me over and over again as I chant my love for him. My toes curl, and I revel in the rough, uncontrolled coupling, my body winding tighter and tighter.
When the climax rips through me, I scream, my voice breaking as I’m sucked into the maelstrom. But I don’t stop the mantra because I know he needs to hear it. He pushes me ruthlessly. The shells around my heart shatter one by one until I’m utterly vulnerable. “I’m in love with you, Lucas.” I stare into his dark eyes. “Don’t let me fall.”
“Never.”
The single word is a promise so solid it grounds me, an anchor making sure I’m not lost. He thrusts into me so hard, with such intensity, I orgasm again, my vision almost dimming. Still he doesn’t stop. My inner walls are swollen and sensitive, and the wet friction of his cock driving in and out of me pushes me closer to another climax.
His uneven, choppy breathing and frantic pace tell me he’s close, and I want us to fall into oblivion together this time.
Tunneling my fingers into his hair, I caress my cheek against his. My mouth almost touches his ear as I whisper, “I’m in love with you, Lucas. Come. Come with me.”
He dips a finger into my folds and runs it over my tight rosette. My back arches at the electrifying pleasure, and it catapults me to another height. As I cry out, he pulls out and comes all over my belly. He buries his face in the crook of my neck, his breath hot and moist against my sweat-misted skin. “Ava…Ava…”
I caress his head.
I’m in love with you.
With that declaration, I’ve made myself as defenseless as a child. I meant it when I begged Lucas to not let me fall. I’m scared witless. I’ve never let myself be this vulnerable to someone before.
Still, everything around me is clicking into its rightful place. I wouldn’t give up this moment for anything.
* * *
Lucas
As my lungs finally stop heaving and blood circulates back into my brain, I tighten my hold around Ava, not wanting to let her go, ever. If I can have her by supporting her against the wall, I’ll happily do it for the rest of my life.
Still, I know I’m crushing her, and the textured wallpaper can’t feel good against her delicate skin. I pull back, lowering her gently. She wobbles on her feet, and I allow myself a moment of satisfaction before my gaze hits the sticky mess on her belly.
Why are you so grimy?
Why did I say about making a mess?
Don’t touch me with your dirty hands.
Suddenly my throat closes around me, and I take half a step back. “I made a mess.”
She smiles, looking down. “I don’t mind.”
I shake my head. “I shouldn’t have.”
“Lucas…”
“Let me get a washcloth. Don’t move and don’t go anywhere.”
She regards me, confusion pinching her eyebrows together. She reaches over and takes my wrist. “Lucas, don’t.”
“I wasn’t thinking. Shouldn’t have done it when I didn’t have a condom on me.”
Ava looks at me. “You weren’t…planning on sleeping with…her?”
I shake my head. “No. Hold on.” I gesture in the direction of the bathroom.
“Lucas, don’t. I don’t mind. It’s part of you, a sign that you enjoyed yourself.”
Her words barely register. The only thing hammering in my head is the old memory.
Why would I want to hug you when you’re so filthy? my mother would say, pushing me away. Leave me alone.
“Lucas.” Ava cups my cheek. “Here.”
She guides my hand between her legs, lets me feel the slick warmth. My blood heats again, and I can’t stop myself from gently rubbing her swollen clit.
A gasp, then a moan. But she doesn’t let me continue. She tightens her hold around my wrist. “Does this bother you?”
Helluva silly question. “No. I love it when you’re wet for me.” I punctuate that by pushing a knuckle into her pussy. I want to see her squirm, then come again, riding my fingers. She’s so lovely when she climaxes—all soft and sweet and pliant. Her pleasure gives me the kind of high nothing else can.
“Mmm.” She rubs my cum over her belly. “Then accept that I feel the same way about you coming on me.”
“Ava—”
“Lucas, when I said I loved you, I meant it. I don’t love some parts of you and reject the rest. I adore everything about you, everything that you are. If you can’t accept that, we’re going to have a serious problem.”
I can’t help it. I kiss her, wrapping her hair around my fist. Her words erase the ugliness, each one a precious ablution. She licks all over my mouth, and I feel whole and clean—all the unlovable shit about me washed away.
My eyes prickle, my heart thundering. I finally understand the courtly old love poems I was forced to read in school. If Ava asked me now, I’d gladly climb a jagged mountain barefoot, slay a fire-breathing dragon with my fists, vanquish all those in the way of her happiness and bring her wild flowers to put in her hair.
“I love you, Ava.”
“I love you too, Lucas.
I thumb her prominent cheekbones. “I’ve waited an eternity to hear that.”
“It did take me some time to say it, but it took you while, too.”
My forehead rests against hers. “Only because you vanished after my accident.”
“What do you mean?”
I pull back. She’s too thin—the shadows under her ribs are deeper—and I haven’t forgotten her fainting spell on Friday. “Time to eat.”
“You haven’t answered my question.”
“I’ll answer it. But after we have lunch.”
“We don’t have to eat right now—”
“Yes, we do.” I hand her the room service menu. “Do you know what I hated the most when hearing about your childhood?”
She blinks.
“I don’t think I told you much.”
“No, but you told me how hungry you were, and I hated that.” I tilt her chin and give her a quick kiss. “You’ve lost weight and you fainted on Friday—”
“That was just some stress…”
“—so you’ll eat.” She still hasn’t opened the menu; I do it for her and push it into her hands.
She glances down at the options, then looks at me. “All right, fine. But if I do eat, I want you to talk to me honestly.”
I cock an eyebrow. “What if you ask me to tell you something I don’t want to talk about?”
“Then just say that rather than pretend like there’s nothing to say.”
“Will you do the same?” I need to know—that she’ll be always brutally honest with me. I can’t second-guess or wonder at hidden meanings. I’m not good at that kind of thing.
“Always,” she answers, her tone steady.
I believe her. Even if she told me the sky was red, I’d believe her because the alternative would be no more life with her. I’m craven, desperate, but I don’t care. I need this. I need her.
“Thank you,” I murmur, my gratitude extending not just to her, but whatever cosmic force out there brought her back to me.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Ava
I choose a grilled chicken sandwich and lobster bisque combo and decide to clean up while Lucas orders. The bathroom is swanky with a double vanity and huge Jacuzzi tub big enough to party in. Neatly folded white towels sit on an elegant marble pedestal, and I select a small washrag. I might’ve just left the semi-clear liquid on me—I actually think it’s sort of hot—but Lucas seemed really bothered by it.
Even if I’m not super adventurous about sex, I know men don’t generally find the sight of ejaculate on a woman they just had sex with a turnoff. Who hurt Lucas to make him feel like he did something wrong?
I wipe my belly clean and put on a robe. When I find out who’s been so cruel to him, I’ll make them pay. I don’t know how, but I’ll figure out a way.
Then I go still for a moment. Elizabeth told me his mother was a monster. Was this reaction because of his childhood? I’m tempted to ask, but I loathe bringing up something dark and ugly and marring our time together.