This was it. I know that. I took what could have been a beautiful night and spoiled it...just as he spoiled what could have been a beautiful morning. I should feel vindicated, but I don't.
I head to the window and gaze out, once again watching as he heads across the street. This time, there's no interruption. He slips into his Mercedes, and as the headlights flash on, I know this may very well be the last time I ever see him. I suppose that's not such a big loss, considering I already thought that moment had come so long ago, but this one confuses me just as much. What did we share? What were we? I secretly wanted more. I wanted things to work out in a way I shouldn't have wanted them to work out, and things grew into something more so quickly—him coming over, staying over. Giving me this dinner and setting me up with Garreth. Will Garreth even come? I doubt Jarek will ask him to refuse my event, but who knows? I don't know Jarek as much as I'd liked to believe. Isn't that what all this is really about?
Chapter Twelve
It was a difficult night. To see Jarek so hurt by my words, to know he worked so hard to make it special filled me with guilt and sadness.
A few days pass, and though I feel terrible I cut Jarek back out of my life, I know it's for the best. I had to, for my own sanity, for the sake of feeling secure and like I won't wake up one day and find myself alone and scared and miserable all over again.
As mom's get-together for her Women's Club begins, I stand at a table covered in pamphlets, creating a more aesthetically pleasing arrangement than the mess Janet left it in. But it's a lot more help than anything Kelsey has offered since she arrived. She stands a few feet from me, at the bar, as she pours Melanie a glass of wine. Melanie's hair has toned down a few shades since I first met her, so I imagine my initial assumption about hair dye was correct.
“You look stunning tonight,” Melanie says, which annoys me since Kelsey doesn't ever need more flattery. But she does look lovely, her hair resting at her shoulders in a flip. She wears a cream dress, a lot less attention-seeking than the red dress she wore to impress Jarek.
“Thank you,” Kelsey says. “Dress to impress.”
I'm all ears, slowing my work with the pamphlets so I can stand here as long as I need to in order to hear more.
“So he's interested?” Melanie asks.
“Oh, yeah. He's interested all right.” I'm sure they're talking about Jarek. After the other night, is he still pursuing my sister?
“Have you...” Carol, who stands beside Melanie, asks as she sips on the wine Kelsey's already poured for her. I can tell by the tone in her voice that she wants to ask if Jarek fucked the shit out of Kelsey.
“Oh, please, Carol,” Kelsey says as she hands Melanie her glass. “Have you seen him? You think I didn't snatch that the first night?”
“Slut!” Melanie exclaims.
Heat flashes through my face. The pamphlets shiver in my grasp. Here I was, actually believing Jarek was interested, and he's getting it from both Raeven girls.
A gazelle, indeed! I set the pamphlets on the table and start out, maneuvering through the guests as I navigate through the main hall and step out onto the front porch.
I need some air. As I step through the doorway and feel the cool air against my face, I nearly collide with a guest.
It's Jarek.
Of course it would be him! Universe, why do you hate me? He glances at me uncomfortably. I roll my eyes and fly past him.
“Lana? What is…? Lana, will you just talk to me...”
I feel his grip on my arm and I whirl around. “You greedy son of a bitch!”
He stares at me, dumbfounded. Though his focus is on me, I can't help but look around to see if anyone's caught my outburst. A cluster down the hall in the entryway to the living room glances our way.
“What are you talking about?” Jarek asks.
I lower my voice but maintain my level of fury. “Kelsey! If you'd been honest with me about what you'd done with her, I wouldn't have given a shit. But really? You didn't think I'd find out from my own sister?” I doubt she would have told me, but he doesn't have any reason to know that.
“I didn't do anything with Kelsey.”
“Whatever.” I head back inside, darting up the stairs. I can hide in my old room until the party's over. Then I'll help Mom clean up. It'll be like a sober version of the night Janet and I consoled each other in her old room.
“Lana! Please just listen to me.”
He follows me up the stairs. I turn around halfway and scream, “Just leave me alone!”
The cluster that first overheard us turns and stares at us. Fortunately, I don't recognize any of them, so it will at least take some time before news of our display reaches my mother.
I know I'm behaving like I did when I was mad at him when we were teens, but it's all that I can do right now. I feel so hurt. Of course he would find yet another way to hurt me. He's just so damn good at it.
I barge into my old room. I start to close the door, but Jarek forces it open. I put my foot in the path. He sticks his arm in, but I try to close it anyway. If he wants to feel the pain, that's on him.
“Lana, seriously?”
“You are a lying asshole, you know that?”
“What the fuck? Just let me in.”
“No!”
The adult in me reminds me that there's a party going on downstairs and that screaming at Jarek probably isn't the smartest idea, so I surrender. “What?” I ask.
He steps into the room, looking at me as if I've lost my mind. He closes the door behind him, I assume to prevent my rather loud confrontation from making it downstairs. “What? You make that big fuss and then you ask me what?”
Be tough, Lana. Don't let him get to you.
It's way too late for that.
“I don't even get you,” he says. “You said you didn't want anything serious.”
I want to mean it, but I can't help but want him, like I’ve always wanted him, and it hurts that I can't just tell him that. “That doesn't mean you have to lie to me. She's my sister, for Christ's sake.”
“So what if I fucked her? What does it have to do with us?”
“Don't say that word about my sister,” I snap, slapping his shoulder.
“Jesus, you don't have to be so fucking physical about it. What is this: an MFA fight?”
“So you're admitting that you did?”
“No. I just don't understand how, even if we had done something, it would have to do with you.”
I glance around uneasily. “I don't know...I just...well, there's no reason to lie about it.”
“We...didn't...do...anything.”
He appears sincere, but when doesn't he? Isn't that the sign of a great con artist, the ability to manipulate people? However, when I think about my Jarek back then, I'm not thinking of someone manipulative, and I have a hard time believing he's really changed that much. Still, it doesn't seem wise to just trust him.
He approaches slowly, as if he's waiting for me to snap at him like I did before. “Lana, the only reason I came here was to make up with you. I want you. I know you don't feel the same, but that's how I feel and I'm not interested in Kelsey. Never have been.”
As I reflect on her discussion with her friends, I realize I'm putting faith in the wrong testimony, considering Kelsey will say pretty much anything to sound cool to her friends. Still, how do I know she's not telling the truth? What if he's lying?
Before I have time to reflect on the validity of his account, he kisses me. It feels so good, so intoxicating, so delicious. Just like it does every time. I want to slap him. I want to kick him in the balls for the audacity of doing that while I'm still pissed at him for potentially having fucked my sister.
The intense energy that rushes through me is too much for me to deny, and I wrap my arms around him and kiss back. He falls against the door.
What if he really did fuck her? What if this is all a lie and he just wants to fuck me again? As much as it may be the case, I don't care, because I need
him one more time so I can remember how good it feels...how good it can feel.
He forces me back onto the guest bed, which has since replaced the one from when I was a girl in this room. My face feels like it's about to explode from the heat.
He gropes at my body, his hands moving under my blouse as he feels my flesh. I lay back on the bed, my legs folding over the sides. He pulls my blouse up and kisses my belly, his nose gliding as he moves up, before it catches on my button.
You don't want him! I scream at myself. But I do...so badly. Will I ever be able to resist him?
He lifts my skirt and kisses around my panties, softly, tenderly, his hands cupping around my sides, his fingers massaging my back.
Can't it be like this forever? The swirling sensations that ripple through me...that make me feel like it's the very first time I ever touched myself...the first time I learned just how good it could feel?
He abandons his kisses and removes my shoes. I unfasten my belt and slide my skirt and panties down my legs. Jarek grabs them from me and pulls them the rest of the way down before setting them beside my shoes. He kicks off his own shoes and removes his slacks and boxers, piling them on top of my clothes. He kneels down and reaches into his pant pocket.
A condom and a pack of lube. I eye him curiously. “Did someone expect to get lucky tonight?”
He smiles cockily. “I was hoping the opportunity would arise.”
Take me. Just take me. I don't care anymore. I deserve this.
I must deserve to be hurt by him, because I should care that he may have fucked Kelsey. I should care that he could be lying to me, but I can care about that later, after this is over. He slides the condom on and covers it with lube.
He lifts my legs and squats, positioning me for easy access. He pushes in and then undoes the rest of the buttons on his shirt and pulls it off. As I realize I'm still in my blouse, I quickly do the same.
Once I'm naked, we gaze into each other's eyes. I don a stern glare, because I am still mad, and it turns his expression serious, as if he would rather not feel attracted to me either. However, he's a man, so I doubt that's what he's thinking.
He pushes farther in. It feels so right having a dick inside me that fits as if it was manufactured just for me. He lifts my legs and holds onto my ankles as he pushes in farther. The tension I've felt since I heard Kelsey—the rage that consumed me—dissipates, my tight muscles loosening.
I spread my arms to my sides and grip onto the sheets, preparing for that last inch that is just the right level of intensity. He scoots my body across the sheets and crawls onto the bed, still inside me. He leans down and presses his lips against my breast, as if he's drawn to it.
He kisses up to my neck, each kiss growing softer until he reaches my lips and kisses me passionately. He pulls himself out and then thrusts in quickly. I can't help but cry out as the speed surprises every nerve within me.
Why are we doing this? Why aren't we still fighting? Why don't I even care about the answers to those questions?
I gaze at the window, my old window from when we did this before. This is the room he fucked me in. The one he left me in.
I wrap my hands around his thighs and cup his ass cheeks. They're so firm, and I can feel each forceful push as he invades my body. I wish we didn't have to use protection. I wish he could come inside me over and over again, filling me. I know that thought is wrong, but I wish I could just take him completely, that I could contain him in a way I never have. But I know we'll never get to that place. Because this is what we are. This is all we can ever be.
His hot breath hits my face as he gazes down at me. What is he looking for? What does he see in me? Does he see someone he really likes, as he claims? Or am I just like every other girl he's ever fucked?
As he pulls back, I see an angry expression locked on his face. I know he's pissed because I told him I didn't want anything more. Each entry is so intense, as if he's taking out that anger on my body. But I want him to. I want to hurt because of how much I've hurt him, because of how much I've hurt myself.
A sharp sting within me forces me to cry out. He gazes down at me worriedly.
“You can fuck me harder than that, can't you?” I ask, because I don't want him to let up. I want him to fuck me as much as he thinks I deserve to be fucked. I want him to hurt me as much as he needs to, because I deserve to be punished for how I made him believe there was a chance we could be together.
Because we can't be.
I start to cry out again but he cups his hand over my mouth. He glances back at the door. I can tell he's concerned about my noise reaching the guests of Mom's party. But what do I care if they're annoyed? What do I care about anyone right now?
His hand over my mouth is so hot. And each thrust is more arousing than the last. I grab his ass and pull it toward me, encouraging his entry. As he grunts, I can tell he's close. And I'm close...so close.
The fury in his eyes isn't like anything I've seen before. Is he really this pissed at me? Does he really resent me this much for denying him? Though each penetration is forceful, severe, as if designed to make me feel pain that he believes I deserve for my cruelty, that they would come from his desire to be with me leaves me wanting it to hurt even more.
He leans down, his teeth gritted, his stare cold as he looks into my eyes, his palm firming against my lips. He inserts himself particularly powerfully and I lose control, that delightful rush of energy jolting through me so powerfully that I think I might pass out.
I come. The jerk of his pelvis, the cringe on his face, and his guttural cry assure me that he's reveling in his own bliss.
A silence settles between us. He looks at me, his gaze rife with guilt as he pulls his hand from my mouth. His scans my body as I slide out from under him, feeling ashamed of how much I've enjoyed myself once again. Without words, we pick up our clothes and scramble into them, returning to the party. Jarek beelines for Kelsey while I handle my daughterly responsibilities around the house.
Chapter Thirteen
I'm as rattled as ever.
What am I supposed to do about Jarek? I should have been smarter. I shouldn't have caved to those initial impulses. I should have fought harder, been stronger. I should have said I wasn't going to fall apart in his arms, but when he's around, that's all I want to do. It's the most important thing in the world to me. I just want him, and now I'm paying the price, because as much as I don't want to cave to these urges, I can't help but imagine what it would be like if I could bury that thing in the past and love him for the beautiful man he is today. Can I do that? Is it possible? I want to believe it is, but what if it's not? What if I'm lying to myself?
For the first time, I know he wants to be with me, but what am I supposed to do with that?
As I head into the office, I spot Geoffrey Brenner— Mom's attorney, the man in charge of our estate, with whom she’s worked for the past few weeks to wiggle money out of the trust for a face-lift. He stands at the desk, dressed in a dark suit with an emerald-green tie. He speaks with Victoria before he spots me and offers a smile, but judging by how his thick gray eyebrows pull together, I can tell he has something serious on his mind.
“Hello, Geoffrey. What brings you to this side of town? Business?”
He flinches, as if bothered by something in the air. “Yes. With you, actually.”
“Is Mom filing a suit against me?” He laughs in a way that suggests my joke isn't entirely unreasonable, and knowing Mother, it isn't.
“It's funny you mention your mother,” he says with another twitch. “That's why I'm here. I'm supposed to meet with her this morning about the contents of your father's will.”
“The face-lift?”
“It's a little more than that. Apparently, she'd like to purchase some new property, and she'd like to pull from some of the funds of the trust. She wants to make a few rather substantial investments, actually.”
Little liar, I think as I reflect on Mom's little nip/tuck that she claimed was all
she desired.
“Of course,” I say. “You know Mom and her way with money.”
“Yes, I do, which is why I want to tell you, if there's any way you can impress upon her that she shouldn't pursue this, I highly recommend it.”
“Why?” I ask. I wonder if he is as apprehensive as I am about Mom making these sorts of business decisions against Daddy's wishes.
“I think you know how your mother's spending habits are, and I'm worried that if she gets any more money, it'll run out faster than is necessary.”
“What do you mean?”
“She's a large part of the reason why there wasn't much available when your father passed. You know that, right?”
“Know what?” I'm totally thrown. No one's ever discussed anything like this with me before. In fact, I've only seen Geoffrey on a few occasions at Mom's parties, and never to discuss business.
“While she was with him, she spent a substantial, extravagant amount of money on fairly superficial things—parties, clothes, etc. She bought as if he was going to be making millions forever.” She probably thought he would be.
“But Daddy was also spending quite a lot on his charities,” I insist, trying to take some of the blame off Mom. I know how Geoffrey is liable to blame Mom for everything, considering his opinion of her, but as her daughter, I feel it's my duty to stand up for her here.
He eyes me curiously before the same nervous tic resurfaces. “A couple hundred thousand. Nothing compared to the amount of money your Mom was pulling.”
“A couple hundred thousand, you say?” I ask.
All this time, Mom has been leading us to believe that he was the one who squandered the money, but it'd really been her all along.
Bitch!
When I finish at work, I decide to pay Mom a visit.
I've been fuming since my exchange with Geoffrey where he offered further details of Mom's extravagant nature, which made it very clear how much she'd deceived us about her spending habits. How could she lead us to believe that our father was responsible for our financial ruin? Looking back, it's easy to see how she was the one using the money, considering her extravagant tastes and her desire to go on endless shopping sprees.
Every Time He Leaves (The Raeven Sisters Book 1) Page 18