Every Time He Leaves (The Raeven Sisters Book 1)

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Every Time He Leaves (The Raeven Sisters Book 1) Page 22

by Karington, Anna


  “Don't you dare suggest that!” she exclaims. “You don't understand what a mother would do—”

  “I do understand what a mother would do—how she would go out of her way to take from her daughter the only person who ever meant anything to her! To deprive her of the man she desperately loved because she had the gall to insist he wasn't good enough. Look at him now, Mom. Is he finally good enough? Of course he is. It's the two of you who are malicious, greed-driven monsters.”

  I turn to head out, but I stop in the doorway and turn back around.

  “At night, sometimes I would get on my knees and pray to God to bring Daddy back to me. I would ask because I wanted him to be here to see all the great things in my life. I wanted him to see my accomplishments. I wanted him to see my success. I wanted him to be there with me to enjoy all these wonderful things, and now, I wish he could be here to see what a cruel, sadistic person you really are.”

  “How dare you!”

  “How—dare—you! You didn't have the right...” A fit of tears overtakes me, and I fall against the doorframe. I look at Kelsey, who has a scornful expression on her face. “Kelsey, just tell me you really liked him. Tell me you loved something about him that was more than his money. Tell me you would have been happy if he just gave it all up and wanted to spend his life with you as a mechanic.”

  The cringe she makes at the word ‘mechanic’ tells me all I need to know. I bow my head. I give up. For the first time with this family, I just give up. “We didn’t deserve Jarek's help, because we're terrible people. I hope one day you both realize that.”

  I dash through the hallway, and as I make my way through the living room, I hear Mom calling after me, “You don't have any right to talk to me like that after all I've done for you! I was just doing what I thought was best! It's so easy for you to cast that boy in a positive light now that it's years later and you don't have to think about shelter or putting food on the table, but it wasn't that easy back then! I was alone and scared and—”

  She shouts from the porch as she follows me out. I get in my car and close the door, which muffles her words. As I start the engine, the radio volume amplifies, effectively drowning her out entirely.

  She is my mother, and I know I won't be able to entirely cut her off from my life, but I can shut her out today. I deserve that much considering all the damage she's done.

  I drive straight to Jarek's hotel and pound on his suite door. It takes a moment before it opens, and he stands there. His eyes are puffy, as if he's been crying. He looks at me, hopeless, defeated.

  I won't waste his time. Mom has already wasted too much of our time.

  “I just spoke with Mom.”

  He opens his door more, and I step inside. “And?” he asks.

  I look behind him through a doorway where I see clothes piled up on the bed beside a suitcase. He's clearly getting ready to leave. Is he actually going to leave me again? Although, considering how I refused him, considering everything I now know, I guess he didn't feel he had any other choice.

  “She told me about that day,” I say. “I should say I accidentally heard about that day. So I want to know the truth.”

  He doesn't appear ruffled by my words, though I detect a hint of guilt in his eyes as he looks at the floor, as if he would have preferred I never discover the truth.

  “Your mom did the right thing,” he says through his teeth, as if consumed with anger. “You remember me back then. I was nothing. Your mom just reminded me of how selfish I would be to destroy your life by being with you.”

  “Why didn't you just tell me?”

  “Because I knew all it would take was one look, one sad glance from you, and I wouldn't be able to do it. I would've done anything for you.”

  “Clearly not anything.”

  He appears hurt by my suggestion. “Do you think I did all this for me? Do you think I did any of it for me? I spent the last decade doing everything in my power to become the best person I could be, someone worthy of someone like you. You have to see that.”

  “It clearly wasn't all for me when you just happened to be here on business.”

  His look tells all.

  “Oh, God. You weren't here on business?”

  “I spent a lot of time, after all this, convincing myself that it still wasn't a good idea. That I still wasn't enough. But no matter what I did, no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't shake you from my thoughts. You were my business. I thought if I came here, maybe I could get you back.”

  My thoughts scramble. How could I have been so wrong? How could any of this be true? And yet, it's the only thing that makes any sense.

  “Don't you get it, Lana? The only thing that has kept me going—the only thing that has gotten me to this place is waking up to the thought that one day I might be with you again.”

  “But you never even called...”

  “And every day I didn't, it killed me a little more. But I never stopped loving you. I never stopped doing everything in my power to become the sort of man you deserved.”

  “The sort of man I deserved? Is this what you thought I needed? A man with money? Really? Do you think that I'm so shallow that—”

  “No, you never thought like that, but it doesn't keep it from being true. We were kids, and we couldn't have made the kind of life you needed—the kind of life you knew.”

  “You and my mother, trapped in the 1800s. I didn't need some man to take care of me. Look at me! I'm doing just fine. I didn't give a shit about whether you had fifty dollars or a million. I wanted you!”

  “I couldn't have lived with myself if I couldn't give you the most basic of things in the world. If we'd had to live in some trailer park...or some shitty split-level...”

  “But you didn't have the right to make that decision on your own! You didn't have the right to leave me out of it!”

  “I did what I thought was best at the time.”

  Tears rush down my face. I glance around, as if looking for an escape. I don't know why, but I just need to get out of here. I need to process all this. I've never been so confused in my life.

  “Were you just going to let me go yesterday? Was that it? You were never going to tell me what really happened?”

  “If you didn't love me, then I didn't see a reason to keep torturing myself.” His words stir a fire within me, and I know I'm about to unleash all this pent up hostility on him once again.

  “You abandoned me! I needed you, Jarek. I needed you more than I needed anyone in my entire life. My father died and the only other person in this world who I felt knew me ditched me. I lost the two men I loved the most over the course of two weeks. What was I supposed to say when you came waltzing back in? That I was appreciative? That I wanted you in spite of all that? Were you really just going to let me walk out without ever knowing the truth?”

  His expression is rife with guilt. “I know it seems like what I did was unforgivable, but I promise you, Lana, it was all for you. If you knew how much it was all for you, you'd never question how much I care about you.” He takes my hand. I want to pull away, not because I don't want to be near him, but because it's all too much to handle right now.

  “I'm begging you, Lana. Give me a chance. Give us a chance. I know I've been shitty, and I know I don't deserve your forgiveness, but if you'll let me, I will be your slave for the rest of my life, and I'll do everything in my power to make you the happiest woman alive.”

  I sniffle. The tears are pouring so fast, and they don’t show signs of letting up, but what am I supposed to do to stop them when he's assaulting me with all the attention and adoration I've always wanted from him?

  I gaze into those sincere eyes, desperate as I remember them being after Daddy died, and I wonder if I look just as he does.

  I don't know what comes over me—some latent rage, something I've held within me for so long, but it comes out with a few pounded fists against his chest and me screaming out, “You left me! You left me! You left me!” inarticulately through a f
it of tears.

  I collapse into his arms and he holds me close, though I'm still trying to flail about in rage. “I'm so sorry,” he says, kissing my cheek repeatedly, soothing this powerful aggression I feel. His touch and his kisses fill me with relief. I turn so his lips touch mine with his next kiss, and I grab the back of his head and pull him close.

  I won't sort through all of this now. All I want is him—all of him. I don't care how much he hurt me, because now that I know he truly loves me—has loved me all this time—it's too much for me to resist him.

  I need him so much. Now more than ever.

  How could he have carried this secret for so long? How could my mother have driven him away from me so quickly?

  The past only reminds me how quickly the things I love most can be torn from me. I kiss him passionately, and he reciprocates, holding my back as he leads me so that I'm lying on the couch.

  He kisses down my neck, quickly sliding my shirt over my head and kissing down my body, feeling his way, as if he's just as scared as I am that this may be our last moment together—even though after all the confessions, I can't imagine, even with all this lingering hate I feel toward him, how I can ever be without him.

  His lips send jolts of excitement rushing through me with each touch against my flesh. I roll my head across the fabric, reeling in the ecstasy that surges through me, which wars violently with all the other emotions I'm feeling right now. He unfastens my jeans and pulls them down with my panties. Removing my shoes, he kisses my clitoris. Softly, gently, his lips as skilled as his thumb in stirring excitement within me.

  I relax into his appreciation of my body, because this excitement, this arousal is the only thing keeping me sane right now. He rubs his hands up and down my thighs as his tongue rims around my entry.

  He ceases and rises. He scoops me off the couch and carries me into the bedroom. Laying me on the bed, he retrieves condoms and lube and sets them on the mattress beside me as he undoes his jeans and slides them and his boxers down to his knees. He doesn't remove them any farther before assaulting me with frenzied kisses.

  “I love you so much, Lana,” he whispers between kisses.

  “I love you, too.” He puts a condom on and lubricates before easing inside me. I'm still in my shirt and his jeans are still at his knees.

  I need him filling me, and as he slides in and out, I writhe in delight on the mattress, pleasuring in every nerve he hits, every bit of arousal that swells within me, climbing and escalating with total abandon. I groan with delight as his thrusts become more powerful, the pressure intensifying.

  I can't believe this is happening. Not more than twenty-four hours ago, I despised him for what he did, but now that the truth has been revealed, I realize I've never loved him more—not even when we were just kids. I don't just love him, I trust him with all of me. All this time, he's worked so hard so he could be with me. What kind of man does that? A crazy man, surely, but now I know he really has felt all those powerful emotions that have surged through me all these years, and that brings me such relief. I wasn't just a crazy, lust-hungry teen. I'd felt something special with him, something beyond those feelings I'd had with other men, something meant to last. Though I resent the world and my mother and even him for interrupting our time together, now I can't help but feel like all that heartache, all that pain has evaporated.

  As his breath rushes against my ear and he kisses my cheek tenderly, filling me so powerfully, sating this burning need within me, I feel that this sloppy, desperate moment is the most flawless of all those we've ever shared. Here we are, making love because it's all we've wanted all this time, without fear or anxiety about the other's feelings because we've both been so clear about how much we've wanted each other. We're vulnerable, open, as we should have been all along, and yet without all that time, I would never have understood the depth of Jarek's love—that he really would do anything in the world for me.

  He leans back, his pelvis continuing to beat against mine, and I see that soft look in his eyes as he scans my body, seemingly at ease for the first time. As I survey his body, his ripped abs and his bulging pecs, I can't help but feel that I not only deserve them, but that they won't flee, that I'm not just a toy for this beautiful specimen. I'm so much more, and always have been.

  He slows his rhythm. A smile forms on his face, and I smile back, but it seems my emotions are still getting the best of me because I burst into tears again, though this time I know it's not because I'm sad. It's because I'm so incredibly happy.

  As my tears fall, he kisses my face and relieves me of them. He gently continues pushing and pulling, each time the sensation forcing a radiant energy to swell within my pelvis. Swirls of delight radiate through my head and prick at my cheeks. Goosebumps rush up and down my body as a wave of heat captures my face.

  I unravel, calling out as I reach the most satisfying of climaxes, one that I release entirely because I know I'm with a man I trust. The pressure in me builds, and he cries out before planting another kiss on my lips.

  We kiss each other softly, not nearly as desperately as when we began, as if we've consummated this new stage of our relationship, and as he props himself on his arms, I feel as if I want him to stay in me forever.

  I slide my hand down his back, cupping it around his butt. As I look into his gentle eyes, I know that's my butt. And I'm content with thoughts of seeing it every morning for the rest of my life.

  Epilogue

  “I think you'll really like this one,” Farrah says.

  Jarek and I follow her into a bare condo with white walls and stray specks of sawdust scattered across the concrete floor. It's the fifth place we've looked at this week.

  “Nice,” Jarek says with several nods, the way he has about three of the other places we've looked at.

  We walk through the living area, adjacent to the kitchen, which is separated by a wall with a rectangular opening stretched across it. A window on the wall opposite the front door opens out to a view of the city, which looks like it will be nearly as brilliant a view as the one Jarek had in his hotel room.

  Farrah whirls around to face us. I'm startled, as I was when we first met up with her, by her cleavage, which is remarkably visible in the tight, chocolate-brown blouse she wears. The sides of the blonde wig she dons fall just over her shoulders while the bangs cover her eyebrows, making it difficult to read her expressions at times.

  “It's plenty big enough,” I say, assessing the space, which is twice as big as the living area in my apartment. This is the first place we've seen that is empty, part of a new structure on Peachtree and 17th Street. Something about the emptiness makes it feel like a good place for a fresh beginning.

  “I knew you'd like it,” Farrah says with a smile. “It's three bedrooms, two baths. Just right if you're wanting to start a little family.”

  I gaze at Jarek. He smiles, confirming his excitement about building a family with me. We haven’t had many discussions about it. Only enough to know it's something we both want, though we're not in any rush. We'd rather let it happen naturally.

  A loud tune fills the room, startling Farrah. She glances around, perplexed by the noise. Then she fishes into her purse and retrieves a cell in a neon pink case. “Feel free to take a look around. I have to take this. It's my kid.”

  Judging by her age, I can't imagine why she would need to take a call from her certainly twenty-something child, but considering how frequently she receives calls from her children, I figure they're awfully dependent on her. Her black skirt waves as she spins around and heads out onto the balcony.

  I lead Jarek on our own tour, turning into an entry on the other end of the condo. I follow it down a hallway, passing a few smaller rooms, before we reach what must be the master bedroom. Plenty of space to work with. A hallway passes through what, judging by the shelves on either side, is some sort of closet. Past the closet is an entrance to what I'm guessing is the master bathroom, scarcely lit by the daylight from the window in the bedro
om. We walk through the closet, and I feel along the wall inside the bathroom for a light switch. As I sense a circular, plastic knob, I twist it. White light pours across sparkling white marble tiles.

  “This is very nice,” I say, stepping inside. It's spacious and has a large bathtub on the other side. I can only imagine the sorts of fun we'll have with that.

  “Yes, it is,” Jarek says, a wicked look in his eyes, as if he's fantasizing about the sort of trouble we'll get into here. He hurries across the tile floor and kisses me. I can tell by his kiss that he wants far more, but this isn't the time or place. Now, Jarek? Really?

  Nearly a year has passed since we admitted our feelings for one another, since I abandoned all those fears I had about him, all my insecurities from that day when he left me. Since then, Jarek started teleworking for his company from my place. About a month ago we decided we wanted a place that wasn't his or mine, but ours. That's when we reached out to Farrah, a friend Janet met through her group therapy sessions. Though we're eager to upgrade, I want to pay half the mortgage for whatever we purchase. Even though Jarek has millions, I'm not interested in mining his wealth. I'd rather this be a 50/50 relationship, unlike those Kelsey so eagerly throws herself into. We've quarreled over the details involved in making that happen, but despite those small battles, I'm relieved to have Jarek back in my life. For the first time since he left, I finally feel complete. It's as if something that had once been constricting my throat has released me and now I am free to breathe.

  Jarek unfastens the top button of my blouse. I push him back. “What are you doing?” I whisper.

  That sly smirk rushes across his face. I can see a mischievous plan formulating in his head. It's the most calculating of looks, and it stirs desire within me. He creeps back to the door, closes it, and turns the lock.

  “You naughty boy,” I say. He unfastens his pants and pulls them down his legs with his boxers, revealing his hard erection. “Oh my God,” I say as heat rushes to my face.

 

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