Last: A Copperslane Romance Novel
Page 21
“A gift?” I touch the chain around my neck. “For what?”
“Because I wanted to.” He places it down on the counter in front of me. What looks like apprehension swirls in his tight eyes as he first glances at the box then me. “I hope you like it.”
A smile quirks up my mouth. “I’m sure I’ll love it.” Tracing my fingers along the paper, I take a moment to admire the oversized red and gold bow on top. I wrap my fingers along one of the velvet tails of fabric and then drag my fingers along the bumps of the gold foil design.
“Open it, Bianca.” It’s calm, but still spurs me into action.
I pluck off the bow, tucking it away to the side, and finding a folded edge, undo the invisible tape. When that’s done, I slide the box out to reveal a white shirt box. Shaking the top off, I hook my fingers under the borders and jiggle till the lid slides off, then I peel back the paper.
“Oh my—’’ My heart flatlines, blood no longer pumping in my veins. Prickly heat hits the back of my eyes and everything blurs for a millisecond. I’d recognize the floppy bow and cream color anywhere.
It’s Mom’s blouse. Stain free, looking better than ever. My hands tremble as I reach out to touch it and words choke up in my throat. “It’s—it’s Mom—”
“It’s not.” His hand glides down my back. “I had it made.” One of his large fingers skims over the fine fabric. “I felt so fucking bad, you have no idea. I went to a designer I know and showed her a picture.”
A beautiful hole punches right through my sternum and I bow over as the cavity fills with an abundant warmth that I haven’t felt since childhood. Tears drain out my eyes, and I throw my arms around Brett’s torso. “Oh my God.” I barely hear my own words. “Thank you so much.”
He strokes the top of my hair. “It’s not hers, but I hope when you wear it, you’ll still be able to remember her.” The large swallow he takes reverberates in my ears.
Closing my eyes tight, I listen to the sound of his heartbeat, which plunks faster by the second. A smile spans my lips and I toss my head back, looking up at him. “I’ll think of both of you when I wear it.” I shudder under his touch as he cups my face.
“You sweet, sweet thing.” Desperation fractures the fire crackling in his dark eyes, and then his lips find mine.
He works me slow, his kisses echoing off the walls as he pauses between each one to let us breathe. My arms fall limp at my side as he gathers me in his hold, fitting me to his body in a way only he can. He finds the spot where we curve and meld against each other, and when he ducks his head to kiss my neck, I collapse against his build.
My pulse follows his kisses, jumping to the spots where his mouth connects with my flesh. Each area he grazes, he plants one ghosting brush before going back in for a tender suckle between his lips. Fire swirls up my body with each new pleasure point he finds. When he flicks my ear lobe, I groan.
“Oh, Brett.” Fever is heavy in my voice, and his response to it spurs my need for more.
“That’s it. Say it.” He sweeps his thumb along my jaw, his mouth pressing to my heated skin. “Say my name like that again . . . desperate.” His large thumb smooths over the front of my neck. “Say it like I’m the only name that should ever be on your tongue, like I’m the only man you’ve ever tasted.”
I obey—his name spilling off my lips like the sweetest and most intoxicating wine known to this world. It seems to spur him.
He hoists me off my feet and secures my legs around him. “Damn, Bianca.” He threads his fingers through the back of my hair while carrying me out of the kitchen. “Look at what you do to me. Two minutes into kissing you, and I’m falling apart.”
“Sorry, not sorry,” I say, peppering kisses along the one side of his face.
“Didn’t ask for an apology.” I nip at his ear, feeling his cock thicken, digging into my ass cheek while he continues to walk. I can’t stop myself from grinding onto it and gasp. “Fuck. You’re going to make me jerk off in my jeans.”
“Would that be so bad?” I ask it as he enters my room and lays me on the bed.
“No.” He sweeps his fingers between the valley of my breasts, smiling, applying an expert amount of pressure where I strain for my breaths. “But I’d rather go off in you.” There’s a glint in his eyes followed by one yank at my pants. The elastic waistband of my sweats stretches around my hips. I arch my pelvis up to give him easier access.
Shivers tendril up and down my limbs when he sweeps over my opening. He sighs at my dampness. “So beautifully fucking wet for me, little one.”
“Brett.” I shimmy my lower half off the bed. “I need you.”
He breathes in deep. So much that the buttons of his dress shirt look like they want to fly off and scatter. He drops his pants. Planting one hand on the other side of my head, he leans forward, rubbing his cock against my drenched opening. I whimper in frustration and he chuckles.
Ducking for my ear, there’s a darkness to his tone. His teeth nip at my ear, and I yelp, but I am still aware of his words, ones that work down into my soul. “And I need you.” It sounds different from the way I say it—makes my heart unsteady in its pace and skin flicker alive with goosebumps. I want to bury the strange sensation.
Brett doesn’t let me. “Look here, kitten.”
He grabs my face in one hand, fingers and thumb grabbing at my cheeks. With the right amount of demanding pressure, he turns my head, forcing me to lock eyes with him—reminding me that while he’s sweet, he’s still Brett. Commanding. Powerful. My eyes are already wide, staring deep into his, but I gasp as he slams into me, tip to root in one fell swoop.
“God!” I clutch at the bedding to my left and right, still pinned—a slave to his gaze.
He plants a gruff kiss on my mouth, and I groan when he plants himself deeper—his balls framing the bottom of my ass. I hear my own heart pumping hard for blood as he licks his mouth. “Feel that?”
He completes me so well, I can’t fucking move. Nodding isn’t even possible as he expands in my walls. I’m too pleased to move, but the way he smiles tells me he sees it in my eyes.
“That’s you, Bianca.” His grip around my face tightens and I feel his fingertips grind into the frame of my cheekbones. “This is what you do to me.” He pauses to moan while keeping still inside me. “You strip me naked.” A hard huff expels out his nose. “Usually there’s always a barrier, ensuring that the only thing I ever give away is my cock. But you take it all, baby.” Bright amber smolders in his eyes while he tilts inside of me. When I mewl and buck my legs, he growls. “Fuck, yes. You take it all, and you make me like it.”
Those words seem to unravel him, and I keep my legs spread wide to watch him fray above me. His sweat droplets, which patter on my naked body, are scraps of his soul, and I absorb everything I can because I love seeing this side to him.
The world sees badass Brett Walker—cursing, drinking, poker-playing, tattooed man that keeps the world at a distance. But me? I get to see him decimated, unhinged with his body glistening and my name hissing off his lips. I witness his rawness as he begs me to squeeze him tighter—just the way he likes. And when he finally falls apart and pumps me full of him, I bite down on my lower lip as he quakes from the aftereffects of experiencing my body.
He gets high off of me. Satisfied from me, and I can’t think of anything more gratifying.
Eventually, he falls asleep in my arms as I stroke his hair. A smile rounds the apples of my cheeks as I twist a longer strand around my finger. I kiss his cheek, dreading the thought of tomorrow coming and pulling us out of bed.
I’d be happy staying here forever.
With him and only him for eternity.
The thought is burrowing deep into my mind while I nestle against his spent body. My eyes droop . . . God, I lo—
My eyes fly open. Shit. A tightness captures my chest, pressing out all the oxygen I have. All of a sudden I can’t breathe, and my body is too stiff against Brett. No. No. The thought I almost had . . . it co
uldn’t be.
But when I stare up at his peaceful face, a crack of lightning rips across my sternum, and God when we draw a breath at the same time, I think of myself tethered to his soul. All too suddenly I’m aware of a need so intense it makes me tremble. It’s like I’ll die if he doesn’t move the rest of his things here and attach his life to mine. And all too easily, I identify the new feeling coursing through me.
I’m in love.
These things he infuses in me. The hope and purpose, leaving me to think my heart will shrivel up tomorrow if he doesn’t wake with me. It’s love.
Fuck. That’s the most dangerous thing in life. Because while I didn’t want him to last before, if life has taught me one thing, it’s that the good things don’t last. Wanting him was one thing, loving him is another, and I know life will find a way to mess this up. It always does.
A tear streams down my face while thinking of all the ways this will go wrong.
It won’t last. He’ll leave. I can see it now. Brett will move his things here, but once I’m dependent, he’ll get tired of me, and Brett Walker will vanish. I don’t think I can survive the best thing that’s ever happened being ripped away from me. The only solution I see is to let him go first.
But can I do it?
My heart beats like mad, the manic pattern hurting my chest with each of its pulses. A battle occurs for the next several hours while I weigh the horrid options. Breaking up with him now will yank tender portions of my heart right off—making me bleed my soul out for who knows how long.
But staying?
When he rips himself from me, the failure of us will spear right through my soul, and I can’t survive that. Pulling away from Brett first is the only option I have if I want to survive. And even though it’s going to hurt like a son of a bitch, it’s exactly what I’m going to do.
I don’t have a choice.
Sleep doesn’t come tonight. Instead I cry, thankful he’s not awake to watch me fall apart as I choose the best option for me, because I’m sick of life deciding for how long things last.
Tonight, I’m going to end something first and beat life to the punch.
Unfortunately, I’m starting with Brett.
Chapter 27
It’s luck that Brett disappeared to Colorado again two days later. He left to go get more items to bring here. Little does he know that I’m throwing his few items into a duffel bag to finish us.
My whole body jerks, nerves raw and shot when my phone vibrates, again. It’s Brett, of course. I deny the call and send it to voicemail along with his millions of others. When he texts me moments later, I don’t read it. I clear it and go back to my job—kicking Brett out of my life.
Slamming his last pair of jeans into the bag, a sob finally bubbles up and betrays the emotions I’m fighting to contain.
A fresh assault of tears sting the back of my eyes as I try to shake them away. The black straps of the duffle bag chafe against my smooth palms thanks to the death-grip hold. Sealing my eyes closed, I force deep breaths. “It won’t last.” I mutter the words out. No. Not words. Promises. Bitter truths that are a bitch to swallow, but necessary.
The simple fact is, nothing lasts.
Success? It’s not made for longevity, and because of that, it dooms Brett and me.
Safety? When created from others, it’s as temporary as the wind. Your safeguard could wake up mad and rip everything from you.
Love? Sure as fuck not lasting. Dad and Mom proved that, and I’ll be damned if I end up like Mom—reduced and gray because I depended on one person for too long.
That’s not me. Ripping Brett off now like the painful band-aid he is, is better than being gutted later.
But fuck, it’s hard. Zipping the bag closed, an ache cuts across my chest, flaying it open. I grip at my ribs, bow over, and shake, refusing to let out the wail that’s built up in my lungs from the time I first started packing.
It won’t last.
I use the words to ground me.
We won’t last.
Strength surges down my limbs, I hoist the bag over my shoulder.
He’s going to leave me. Hurt me.
My legs work on their own, transporting me to the front door.
He never should have come.
I drop it. It lands to the floor with a thud. A ten-ton weight flying off my chest the longer I stare at the light blue item. Inside is Brett, and when he comes back we’re through and I’ll be safe once again.
Months after Lance broke up with me, I promised I’d never pass through that heartbreak ever again. I’d never allow my heart to be stripped and battered, or cry endlessly into my pillow. That’s what I’m doing now. Protecting myself for whenever Brett decides he’s done with me.
Tapping my toe against the bag, I nod and sigh. “Goodbye Brett.”
Returning to my room, I turn off my phone and go to bed. Brett will be home in a few days. Hopefully, it’s the last time I’ll see him. Because falling in love with him is the most unsafe thing I’ve ever done. Now he just needs to get back so I can tell him we’re through. Even though in my heart, I know I’ll never be able to fully let go. This is simply so my heart doesn’t die when he rips himself from me—because it’s not a question of if we’ll fail, but when.
Chapter 28
“Bianca! Open the fucking door, now.”
My front door rattles from the heavy hand of Brett—it still can’t match the drumming in my chest, neck, and fingertips. My heart slams harder than his knocks ever will. But it won’t stop me from opening the door and getting this over with.
I adjust a curly strand of hair while shuffling toward the entrance and duck to look into my entryway mirror one last time to ensure my makeup is on point. Looking less than perfect for this isn’t an option. I’ve decked myself out in low heels, a sweater, and a tight pair of jeans. Sadness and anxiety pump hard in my blood, and I know I’m going to hate every second of this. Especially as a tear threatens to seep out while I reach for the door handle.
One deep breath of composure, and I fling it open, mid-pound from Brett.
I skitter back while he loses his footing and stumbles forward a step. My back snaps, rigid, when he catches himself and looks at me—heat and fury lashing in his gaze. He holds it, causing my heart rate to quicken, but I don’t let it play in my voice.
“Hi.” My greeting is dead on the outside, withered and broken on the inside.
“Hi?” Deep red flashes across his face, and his jaw grits. “What the fuck, Bianca? Do you know how worried I’ve been about you?”
Guilt twists my stomach into a knot. I didn’t think about him being concerned for me, and I should have been more considerate. No. I can’t. I want to apologize, but this will make me crumble. I shove it away and say nothing, forcing my eyes to narrow.
“Now . . .” He tosses his suitcase inside, hurling it so hard from his grasp it hits the side of the couch before toppling over. I’m sure he doesn’t miss the jump that leaves me when he does it, or the way I swallow hard as he takes an authoritative step towards me. “Do you want to tell me what the fuck is going on and why you haven’t answered my fucking calls for three days?”
The temptation to create distance is strong, yet I glue my feet in place and jut my chin out. “Brett.” Maybe I’m not moving, but I have to pause.
“I’m listening.” He pockets his hands, his features going dark, matching the cloud of anger I can see around him. It aligns with his voice. It’s pressurized, grungy.
Deciding less is best, I let the sight of his departure speak for itself. I cast my eyes to the floor, to the duffel bag and the one dress shirt that’s on a hanger, neatly resting on top. I found it in my closest last night and decided not to put it in, so he’d get the message up front.
A beat passes and then with his face screwing up in what looks like confusion, he looks to the spot where I’m fixated on. He gives it a quick head jerk. Halfway to turning his head back to me, he snaps to look again. He freezes.
His eyes widen the longer he stares at it, and soon his mouth parts. “No.” His voice cracks with the delivery. Shit, it’s sad. My heart splinters at the sound.
I bury the sensation away, but it still pulls apart more as his chest shakes for a breath and his shoulders drop.
He directs his eyes onto me, commanding me to him in the way only he can. “You’re breaking up with me?” Sickness tugs at his features, and he slouches. The trembles racking his body make it look like he wants to keel over, grab his knees, and hyperventilate, but his voice keeps control and washes over me, making me aware of how angry he is.
I clutch at my necklace and finally take a much-needed step back. “I am.” The admittance is weak. My body hating the distance I create. How I’m not sobbing is beyond me. Possibly it’s because I know better. Something will go wrong between us. It always does for me. Nothing lasts for me.
“Why? We’re past this. We’re . . .”
“I lied!”
“You didn’t.” His voice pops and he no longer looks shattered. He stands tall, brows furrowing, creasing the skin between his eyes, while a vein bulges out at his temple. “I see you, Bianca, and I know you didn’t lie.”
My face hardens over. “You didn’t see shit. What you did was finger a confession out of me.” Damn. The lie is so bitter, and each fiber in me aches, but I can’t change it. This is the only way.
“Is that what you’re sticking to? Holy shit.” He eyes me up and down, disgust swirling in his eyes. “You’re a fucking coward.”
“I’m not.” I ignore the flipping of my stomach and force an icy tone. “You moving here was a mistake. You need to leave. You were right the first time . . .” My fists clench while I take a huge breath. Pain radiates down my limbs and I want to bow over in agony. “I don’t want you in my life.” My heart fractures open with the words, but Brett doesn’t see that.