The One Who Got Away (An Alpha Billionaire Romance)

by Ava Claire

  Rosa seemed relieved to be rid of me and gave me an awkward thumbs up before she skittered from the room.

  I stood in place, my fists balled at my side, contemplating jumping over the counter and choking him. It made me smile a little, until that damn blush returned as his gaze flickered over me in a way that took off every shred of clothing in an instant.

  Besides...you both like it rough. A little dangerous. Any sneak attack would just lead to...

  I cleared my throat, raking a hand through my hair, trying to shove any X-rated thoughts from my mind. “You still haven’t answered my question, Lincoln.”

  His face went serious and for the briefest moment, I thought we would have an actual conversation. But like something inside him snapped and reminded him that life was a game and he was the #1 player, he hid behind that smirk and slid a porcelain cup in my direction.

  “Try it out.”

  “I don’t want to try it out.”

  “Still stubborn as hell, huh?”

  “Still a self-absorbed asshole, huh?” I fired back, crossing my arms defiantly.

  The insult hit its mark because his smile disintegrated. He gripped the edge of the bar. “Fair enough.”

  It should have brought me some satisfaction to know I could dent the Carraway armor and wipe the smile right off his face, even after all this time, but I just felt hollow. I’d never let him know that. I’d never let him close enough again to see that underneath all the vitriol, I still...cared.

  Focus. He still hasn’t answered your question.

  I was afraid of getting too close. His draw, his allure, I wasn’t immune to it either. Especially with him in a sky blue v-neck tee that broadcasted the fact that he still took very good care of himself. It would have been easier if he’d wasted his fortune on booze, fast food, and drugs. No such luck.

  I didn’t realize I was staring until he let out a chuckle.

  “I could do a 360 if you’d like.”

  “Don’t flatter yourself.” I opted to turn my back on him and silently said every curse word known to man as I wiped my sweaty palms on my dress. I would never admit that the view I’d had a few minutes ago was a view I’d missed. He was the only man I knew that made clothing look like ‘sex’ personified. And out of them...

  I straightened my spine and forced everything but animosity from my voice. “I’m not going to ask again. Why. Are. You. Here.” I glared at the rock garden. The stones and the gentle trickle of water were supposed to make me feel all zen, but the water gushing at the sink behind me made me want to scream. He was literally doing everything but answering my question, including the dishes!

  “I’m co-owner of the organization, Catherine,” he said finally. “That’s why I’m here.”

  I didn’t lift my gaze from the garden even though my heart was officially in my throat. Two sentences, and I was still confused. He was the co-owner? Since when? I had done my research. If I had seen his face under the ‘About Us’ section of the website, I never would have submitted my application for the Backpacks for Change program director position.

  And let’s say he was telling the truth and he was the co-owner of the organization. That still didn’t explain why he was here. My eyes shifted to my fingertips, still vibrating from struggling to not say anything, not do anything until I was sure I wouldn’t completely lose my mind.

  Was this all some elaborate ploy to get me back in his life? If so, why did that concept not make me angrier? Why did it make me want to turn back to him and find out if there was still something for me, some love swimming in his gray eyes?

  No.

  Don’t look back. Remember?

  I held fast, biting down on the inside of my jaw when the hardwood floor creaked and I realized he was coming in my direction. Suddenly, I wished I’d booked it the hell out of there with Rosa.

  Realizing that it looked really weird to be standing at the couch entranced by the rocks, I swapped it for my hands instead, admiring the handiwork like it wasn’t a chipped, black-and-scarlet mess.

  The footsteps stopped a few feet away from me.

  “You don’t have any questions? About why I’m not on the website?”

  I didn’t say a word or move a muscle.

  “You’re not wondering why your resume was chosen out of the slew of resumes we got for the position?”

  Of course I was, but I’d be damned if I let him know that.

  The footsteps took a detour and he dropped into the seat adjacent to me. A wise choice, since I wouldn’t have been liable for my behavior if he had the audacity to sit beside me.

  “Are you really not going to talk to me?”

  The strangled laugh that rose in my throat gave me away and I snatched my eyes from my butchered manicure. I thought I’d show him just how okay I was, how okay I’d been since he’d been gone. But there was too much history. He saw the truth as soon as our eyes met. All cockiness, all signs of the charismatic charmer who made women giggle and blush and men wish they could be like Linc, evaporated. He nearly leapt from his chair, like he wanted to pull me into his arms.

  “Oh, Cat-”

  I shrank away and threw knives at him with my eyes. “Don’t you dare.”

  That stopped him dead in his tracks and he gave me a peevish look, apologizing as he ducked his head and returned to his seat. “Sorry. I-” He clenched and unclenched his fists, then rested his hands on his knees.

  Wait a minute. Lincoln Carraway was nervous? As nervous as I was?

  That made me feel a tiny bit better.

  He scrubbed his hands down his face and even though he was clean-shaven, I saw the roughness of worry, of caring in the creases on his face. It was heaviness beyond his years.

  “I know it’s been a long time since we’ve spoken,” he began. “Even longer since we’ve seen each other.”

  Over five years to be exact, I thought angrily, but I kept my lips clamped together. I wasn’t sure why I was listening. His words had been empty then, so what kind of peace would they bring me now? Being so close and still feeling the fire raging in my veins confirmed that we still had chemistry. We had enough electricity to light up a whole damn city, but that didn’t make this reconciliation, or whatever he was trying to do, any easier to swallow.

  “I want you to know that we are my greatest regret.”

  My jaw dropped and anger, no, rage bubbled from my lips like lava. “Are you kidding me right now?!” I scrambled toward the door, red blocking my view, the hole in my heart growing so big that I could fall into it and be lost forever.

  This was why he was there? To tell me he regretted us? The middle finger was too good for this man. A hundred middle fingers were too good for him.

  I stormed into the hall and headed straight toward the elevator. The colorful pictures that spoke to me, so filled with promise, swam before my eyes. The words and images bled into each other.

  “No! Cat, I didn’t mean...will you wait a damn minute?!”

  I didn’t stop until I hit the elevator, punching the down button over and over again, praying for something I know wouldn’t come true. Please show up in time for me to slip inside and get to the lobby without being stuck with Lincoln Carraway. The one who got away who apparently regrets everything. Regrets me.

  The man upstairs did me no favors and Lincoln was in front of me, his face awash with that word that was now branded on my heart: regret.

  “That came out wrong,” he insisted. “I didn’t mean that I regretted us.”

  I had enough dignity to not full out sob, though I knew the minute I was alone, all bets were off. Tears snaked down my cheeks though, and if I could move, if I wasn’t so shell shocked by him, by the past, by the present, I would have plugged both ears and shouted over his explanation.

  “I know that look, and I’m not going to let you ignore me, Catherine. Look at me.”

  I found a spot on the wall just past him and glared, shaking my head adamantly. “No.”

  “Please, Cat.”
<
br />   I’d already given him more than he deserved, but I couldn’t help it. How many times had I wished for this exact moment? For Lincoln to sweep back into my life and truly explain himself? There was a piece of me that still believed in happily ever after. It gave him the tiniest inch and I shot my eyes to his face.

  He looked surprised, his mouth agape like he was waiting for some catch.

  “You have until the elevator arrives, so I’d use your time wisely,” I seethed.

  “Right!”

  He cleared his throat and raised his chin, and I saw the man who must have slain giants in the boardroom, the Boy King with so much to prove. It broke my heart because he never had to prove anything to me. I didn’t care about the money or any of the other ‘perks’ of dating a Carraway. He didn’t have to ‘sell’ himself to me. Lincoln had always been enough.

  The elevator dinged behind him and the timer went off, taking my patience with it.

  “Time’s up.”

  I brushed away his hand and stepped into the elevator. When I reached for the ‘L’ button, our fingers collided and something like static electricity, like our own magic, coursed through my fingers, and I had a moment of complete and utter abandon.

  I brought that hand up and gripped the front of his shirt, balling it in my fist as I turned my face up to his and pulled his mouth to mine. Our lips met and everything else, everything faded but need. I needed to taste him. I need him to taste me.

  I don’t know if he hit the emergency brake or I did, but the elevator jolted and we weren’t going anywhere. We were frozen in this place. A place where the past was forgotten and we slipped back into the warm deliciousness of memories.

  My fingers slipped through his hair and I pulled him close, quivering from head to toe when I felt the solid wall of muscle pressed against me. His hands took possession of me, sweeping over my hips, gliding over the swell of my breasts and before he even got to my nipples that were swollen and aching for him, I was lost and found, all at the same time.

  My mind was filled with two words. Don’t stop.

  His tongue dove between my lips and I grinned against the assault. I was no damsel in distress. I skated my hands down to his ass, that perfect, toned ass, and I gripped it as I dueled with his tongue, melting when he moaned into my mouth. I felt his erection pulsing against me and I took his hand, wanting him to see how aroused I was, too. I wanted him to feel how wet I was for him. I wanted to coat his fingers in the honey that was dripping from me, soaking me with lust.

  When I guided his hand towards my thigh, he froze like I’d shocked him. Not the good kind of shock, like we went out to dinner and I left the panties at home and surprised him beneath the table, or I saved up for a trip somewhere exotic on my dime. No, this was definitely not a good shock. That fact was confirmed when I opened my eyes and saw that his were dark with worry.

  His sobering gaze shook me from my moment of insanity.

  I dropped his hand instantly, but he brought the hand back up, cupping my cheek in a way that was too gentle. Too caring. And even when he let go, like he realized that place, that love didn’t belong to us anymore, I still felt his touch.

  He was close again, doing that thing where the mere act of looking at me, like he wished he could take it all back, was enough to make my voice tremble as wildly as my body. I wanted nothing more than to pretend he hadn’t shattered my heart. To throw my arms around his neck and let him sweep me away in a sea of lust and need. But he couldn’t take it back. ‘I’m sorry’ didn’t cut it. As delicious as he tasted and as right as his body felt pressed against mine, I shot my hands out, palms flat, and pushed him away.

  “You don’t get to pop in and out of my life whenever the mood strikes you,” I spat. Something that felt less like victory and more like sadness rippled through me when regret tore across his handsome face. He’d hurt me so deeply—finally telling him to go to hell should have set me free. The truth was, I felt more bound to him than ever.

  “Cat.”

  It was just my name, but the way it rolled off his tongue was downright unfair. I gazed at his lips, echoes of me lingering on him. I could still taste his moans on my tongue. No one said my name the way he said my name. No one made me want to bare my body and my soul with one syllable, and one syllable alone.

  I wanted him.

  I wanted him so bad it hurt.

  I wanted us so bad it gutted me.

  I focused on that pain, that angst, and when I spoke, he listened.

  “There was a time I couldn’t picture a reality without you in it.” It took everything in me, but I turned back to the front and punched the button for the lobby. This time, I was walking away from him. “I’ve survived just fine without you.”

  The elevator jolted a second time and this go round, I felt it in my chest. The ding and the doors retracting just magnified the emptiness. What he did...there was no erasing it. What did love or regret matter when there would always be a wound that never fully healed?

  I stepped out of the elevator, fully expecting his male ego to make him pull me back in. Apologize one more time. Maybe even twice if that would turn the tides. But he didn’t reach for me, and he didn’t say he was sorry. I glanced back, for old times’ sake, and he was standing there. Tall, dark, and even more delicious than I remembered.

  He gave me a smoldering look that made my heart clench and sigh.

  “I gave up on us once, Cat. I’ll be damned if I don’t fight for us this time.”

  I should have said something. A saucy comeback like, ‘Too little, too late,’ or ‘Don’t hold your breath,’ or even that middle finger that had been fluttering through my head. I just stood there, chest heaving up and down, like he’d just snatched me back to him and laid the kiss to end all kisses on me.

  I didn’t blink until the elevator doors clicked shut. I didn’t move until my heart stopped galloping like something wild and untamed animal.

  I took an uneasy step toward the lobby, then a second. I didn’t stop until the sound of children filled my ears instead of blood rushing and hope flickering in my chest despite my best efforts to snuff it out.

  This was clearly a ploy.

  He wanted my forgiveness.

  He wanted me.

  That alone should have been enough to make me walk right past the reception desk and out of this building. There were other jobs. I’d find a way to make a difference without Carraway’s billions.

  But when Rosa called after me, I stopped.

  “Hey, we didn’t finish your orientation. I still need to get you badged.”

  Thank you for the opportunity, but I can’t accept this job, became, “Is it okay if we reschedule?”

  Chapter Four

  Ashton pressed a hand to my forehead, her green eyes narrowing. She ended the unsolicited evaluation, her tone filled with disappointment. “So, you’re not feverish.”

  I rushed a hand through my hair, ignoring the bite of pain when I hit a tangle. I’d driven to her place with every window that still worked all the way down, trying to lower my heart rate and the fire Lincoln’s touch had ignited. It hadn’t done much except turn my dirty blonde strands into a cyclone of knots.

  I hadn’t bothered to start unpacking, making a beeline for the fridge where I polished off an entire bottle of sangria. My main course was a bag of Doritos and when Ashton got home from work, I was surrounded by Reese’s Peanut Butter Cup wrappers. I looked a mess, I felt a mess, and now the one person that could make me feel a little better had jokes.

  “Of course I’m not feverish,” I snapped, wanting to search her kitchen for something alcoholic. Even cooking sherry would do, anything to dull the helplessness that was consuming me. My plan of action must have been all over my face because she marched over to the recycle bin and lifted the empty wine bottle to the light.

  “You’ll learn that shopping isn’t quite my forte, so if you want to get wasted, let me buy you a drink.”

  “You want me to go out like this?” I
asked incredulously. I’d avoided mirrors and my reflection for the past few hours, in part because I didn’t want to terrify myself on top of everything else. I wasn’t ready to face the woman in the mirror. The woman that promised that the next time I saw Lincoln Carraway, I’d tell him to fuck off, not almost jump his bones in an elevator.

  Ashton dropped the bottle back in the bin with a clang. “Who cares? You’ve showered recently, and you’re not on the hunt for a date.”

  Well, since I already looked like I belonged slumped on a bar stool, ordering my umpteenth piña colada, I dragged myself to Ashton’s car. I wasn’t even offended when she rolled down the windows and passed me a tin can of Altoids along with her travel stash of body spray.

  I knew she was dying to ask me questions, the first one being why I didn’t tell Lincoln to stick the job where the sun didn’t shine, but she let the radio do the talking. The drone of the DJs and commercials was like white noise and after I doused myself in warm vanilla sugar and popped a mint, I leaned back against the headrest and shut my eyes.

  The sangria had me all warm and loose, ready to snuggle and catch some Zs. Hell, escaping in some dream sounded pretty good right about now, but my mind wouldn’t rest. Ordering myself not to think about Lincoln just cemented his face to the back of my eyelids. I knew every inch of that man, and five years had only enhanced how delicious he was.

  “No dating, no men,” I groaned, scrubbing a hand down my face, trying to cut those thoughts off at the knee. “And no Lincoln Carraway.”

  “On that we’re agreed,” Ashton said darkly, her lips a glossy snarl. “I thought he was toxic back then, and clearly he hasn’t lost his touch. You’re day drinking for crissakes.”

  I ignored the dig at my sobriety, or the lack thereof, because I was still stuck on the whole ‘he hasn’t lost his touch’ thing. That would have been too much to ask, that time be cruel to the one man who was cruel to me. If nothing else, he was even sexier than I remembered. His hair was longer, just the right length that it turned him into a force to be reckoned with. His eyes were more brilliant, the gray the color of electricity. All those All-American good looks, the sharp jaw, the perfect angled nose, the lips that turned a smile into pure sex, were just heightened with time. And his touch...it was enough to send me back to church because I needed some spiritual help to keep me from doing something truly foolish. Like forgetting the past and focusing on the pulse racing, knees quaking, panties dripping-