“Where’d Steve go?” Gretchen demanded, and I furtively slipped the ring back into place.
“He left.” I frowned. “Who cares, though? The question is, where’s Greg?”
“That is a good question, smarty-pants. I should go find him,” she said, pulling out her cell phone. “Yeah, he texted me like five times.” She held the phone up inches from my face. “See?” I nodded, and she poked the girl next to her. “I’ve seen enough. Let’s go get another drink.”
“And look for Greg,” I reminded her.
“Yep. Let’s go.”
The girl announced that they were leaving. Gretchen gestured for me to follow, and I glanced back at David. The group retreated as a unit with Gretchen leading the way.
“Come on, Liv,” she called over her shoulder. “It’s time to go.”
“Time to go,” I repeated quietly to myself.
Go, Olivia . . . Go.
14
Part of me wished David would tell me he was done and put an end to this. Then I wouldn’t have to ride this emotional rollercoaster every day. I felt guilty for hurting both Bill and David. For the fact that maybe I was standing in the way of both their versions of home.
Why did I keep returning to this ridiculous concept of home? Was it not enough to have love and be happy? At thirteen years old, my home had broken in half in an instant. I’d never found that sense of belonging, that sense of security again. What was it about David that had me longing for that?
Bill was the only future I had ever known. He was supposed to be my rock, my love, my life. I wondered if knowing he was supposed to be all those things was still enough. Would I have eventually realized my doubts even if David hadn’t come along?
Do I have doubts?
I blinked from my daze to find I was glued to the same spot on the rooftop patio of The Revelin hotel’s top-floor suite. The voices in the penthouse had faded away as everyone had returned to the lobby bar. I looked across the way at David’s almost invisible silhouette. The ache to be next to him ran deep. To feel his hardness through the softness of his cashmere sweater, to rescue him from disappearing into the black horizon.
I clenched my hand around the beer bottle, fighting against what threatened to devour me. Did I even have a choice? It felt bigger than me, this thing. I wanted to bask in his warmth, feel his mouth on my neck. I wanted to see him gaze at me again like I was the only girl he couldn’t resist. Because he was that person for me. Of all the men, and, ashamedly, that included Bill, David was the one who I felt in my core, as though I only existed as an extension of him. I wanted to fall just so he could catch me.
I set my beer down and walked to the edge purposefully. With each click of my heels, my mind chanted mistake, mistake, mistake. But my heart . . . for once, it wouldn’t listen to reason.
David stood unresponsive with his back to me and his hands in his pockets. I stopped and took a deep breath before slipping my arms around his stomach. My cheek pressed against his back.
He inhaled sharply, but said, “Don’t.”
“I can’t not,” I said back.
He put his hands over mine and squeezed them hard before removing them. I didn’t fight him, though I wanted to. After a long moment, I backed away. My hand curled into a fist over my thumping heart. I longed for him with my whole being; I’d never wanted anything more than to feel him now. But it couldn’t be. There was a wall between us. I told myself over and over that it couldn’t be, that it was a mistake, that the day would come when not being able to touch him wouldn’t hurt so bad . . .
I turned and walked away, focusing on anything but the sting in my chest. My whole body flinched when David hurled an angry, thunderous curse into the night. But I kept going until I hit the penthouse foyer. My fingers closed over the door handle. I rested my forehead against the door.
Breathe. Breathe.
My body turned against me, the longing both physical and painful. In that moment, I wanted to give it all up just to feel him one more time.
My head snapped up when swift footsteps echoed behind me. My chest constricted. It was seconds before I felt that familiar heat on my back. I swallowed dryly, staring at my white knuckles still on the handle, willing my feet to walk out the door. David’s arm curled around me. His hand went to the lock. I closed my eyes. The deadbolt slid into place with a deafening click.
“Turn,” he demanded. “Look at me.”
My body obeyed on its own, as did my eyes. He slipped cold hands underneath my hair and grasped the nape of my neck.
You are my escape, I said silently.
In his arms, nothing could touch me—not fear, pain, monsters under the bed, attackers, the judgments of others.
He found my impatient, wet lips with his and calmed them with a sweet, close-mouthed kiss. His tongue gently coaxed my mouth open. I responded slowly but desperately, snaking my arms around his back and clutching him close as though he might disappear if I didn’t. My weight sank against him, and he sucked air sharply from my parted lips.
“Oh, God,” he said into my mouth. “I want you so fucking bad. I never stopped wanting you.”
“Don’t make me go,” I pleaded quietly.
His arms tightened around me. “How could I ever make you go?” Our lips collided with the heat of reunited lovers, his tongue, hands, and mouth taking over. Lovers who had just overcome an agonizing, crawling enemy—time.
His hand slid up my back and tangled in my hair, pulling slightly to expose my neck. He licked and then kissed a spot under my ear, and I wilted against him. Every part of his body was hard, from the arms that held me, to the abs that supported me, to the erection that begged me. I moved my hips into his, encouraged by the small groans that escaped the back of his throat.
With one hand still in my hair, the other dropped to my ass and squeezed me against him. His lips returned to mine with urgency, and he kissed me like he owned me. Like I was made to be kissed that way by him.
He laced his hand with mine and led me from the exit. In the dark master bedroom, he placed me in front of a curved stretch of seamless windows, the cityscape at my back.
“Take it off,” he instructed and backed away to watch.
After reaching behind myself to lower my zipper, I stepped out of my shoes and onto the cold marble floor. The jumpsuit peeled from my body like I was shedding a second skin. I wavered in my lacy black strapless bra and matching thong, awaiting instruction.
“Christ.” With anguish in his voice, he reached out, turned me around, and ran a hand down the length of my spine. “You’re so skinny. You’re nothing,” he said.
I looked over my shoulder and responded instantly, “I’m nothing without you.”
He turned me to face him, kissed my palms reverently, and then the insides of my wrists. His lips moved up my left arm and over my shoulder, moaning my name softly against my skin. “I never stopped thinking of you,” he said. “My beautiful girl. I’ve dreamed of having you again over and over.”
His words were bittersweet pangs in my heart. I squashed my guilt over the ways I’d hurt David by fumbling with the fly of his pants until it gave. I gathered up his soft sweater, nudging my head underneath to kiss his stomach. He shed the top layer of his clothing, and I admired him in his under t-shirt and boxer briefs—a wall of man before me, stripped down to the basics.
He lifted me, and my legs wrapped around him. Yanking back the covers, he placed me atop buttery sheets and against a mountain of pillows. I stayed secured to him as he ran a firm hand along my leg, fueling my ache. We stared at each other, me communicating with my eyes what I couldn’t with my words.
“You know why I get that way, don’t you?” he asked suddenly. “It’s torture to be next to you and not be able to even touch you. I can’t stay away from you, and I can’t have you.”
I nodded at the man who brooded better than anyone, hearing his words but nearly blind with lust. “Take this off,” I commanded, fisting his shirt.
He
stood and tugged at the collar to yank it over his head. His boxer briefs were next. I bit my lip at the enormity of him, solid and real, finally so real, and me, trembling with anticipation for him to relieve the heavy emptiness between my legs.
He was back on the bed, and I pulled at the ends of his velvety hair so he’d settle his weight on me. His long body felt right covering mine.
I arched into him while his deft, coarse fingers released the clasp of my bra. His immense hand skated up my stomach. My nipples tightened as he pinched them. With a hand on one breast, he lowered his head. I gasped, my breast swelling into his open mouth as he swirled his tongue around it.
The longing between my legs tormented me, impatient to be acknowledged. He explored me leisurely, though, with his lips and his hands, revering each curve of my body. In some spots, he grasped me urgently, and in others, his touch was so gentle that I was sure I’d imagined it. I kept my hands tangled in his hair for fear that I’d wake up from this dream empty-handed.
“Olivia,” he moaned into the space between my breasts. Goose bumps lighted across my skin as his hand slipped into my panties. “Christ,” he grated out. His other hand grabbed mine. “Feel how wet you are,” he demanded, pushing my hand between my legs. He guided both our fingers into me.
“David,” I begged.
“For me, baby. Does he get you dripping like this?”
I bit my lip and shook my head, my body tensing with arousal.
He released my hand, but his fingers continued sliding in and out of me. “Does he make you come?” he asked, his face hovering over mine.
It felt unfair to answer that, even though David already knew.
He growled from his chest. “I’m still the only one. That part of you is mine.” He withdrew his hand, and I lifted my hips as he removed my panties with unnecessary concentration.
“David,” I begged again.
He kissed the inside of my knee. “What, baby?”
“I’m ready. Now.”
“You are more than ready,” he answered. My panties dropped, and he climbed back over me. He locked his lips on mine and made love to my mouth, softly and sweetly, ignoring my demand. “I was rough with you last time.” His words were careful, like his kisses and caresses. “Now that I have you again, I’ll fuck you slow so I can savor every second of it.”
I gasped, growing even wetter from his words but also with frustration that he wasn’t already inside me. My frustration grew when he stood up. I rose onto my knees and watched him pluck his pants from the floor, raiding the pockets.
I waited at the edge of the bed. We were playing with fire, and what scared me most was that I was lucid enough to stop it. But all I wanted was to cover myself in his broad, defined shoulders and spend our precious moments nestled in his smattering of chest hair.
I reached out for him. There was a crinkle of foil, and he produced a condom.
“I want to feel you, David, all of you, everything,” I ranted as he rolled it over his cock.
“You will, baby, you will. In time. When you’re mine.” I bit my bottom lip eagerly, and in that moment, I believed him. I never removed my eyes from him, scared even to blink and miss a millisecond of his beauty.
He crawled over me so I had to move onto my back, then placed his lips on mine and trailed kisses down my neck. His hips found their place between my legs. My hands rejoiced over the hot skin of his hard, muscled back. He cupped my jaw and looked down on me. “Are you sure about this?” he asked with surprising tenderness.
I’d wanted to be this close to him for so long. The thought of losing him now chilled me to the bone, triggering a tremble through my body. “I’ve been empty since I left you,” I whispered to him. “I need this—I need you, one last time.”
“But I need more.” Unable to comfort him with words, I reached between us. “I need more,” he repeated. His low whisper rumbled into a groan when I touched him, and he grew stiffer in my hand.
He reached down, too, and wrapped his hand around mine. We both watched as we positioned the crown of his cock against my opening. “Please, I’m so ready,” I insisted as my folds quivered. I flexed my hand around him, urging him in.
He looked back at me. “I like you slow,” he said. “I can see on your face how bad you want it.”
“I want it,” I breathed, “bad.”
With our eyes locked on each other, he eased into me until he was buried to the base. I exhaled with a loud moan. He was so swollen and hard inside of me, the thought alone coiled my insides. His thrusts began short, like he wanted deeper than our bodies would allow. He gathered me in his arms and flipped us over, keeping me against him. One hand splayed against my lower back, and the other higher, pushing my compliant breasts against the hard surface of his chest.
I straightened up to deepen the angle and stilled, drowning in the feeling of having him wholly inside me. I lifted and sank back onto him while bracing myself on his abs. I felt them flex as he sat up and secured my body in his big arms.
“You’re beautiful,” he said, clearing my hair from my face. I could see into him, read the adoration, the desire, the hurt in his eyes.
“It’s you,” I breathed. “You’re what I need, David. Make me whole again.”
He groaned and covered the sides of my face with his big hands. My mouth parted, and I sucked in a breath as I began to rock onto him. He touched the tip of his nose to mine, and I transferred every heartbeat from my mouth to his while he lapped them up greedily.
His hand slid behind my neck and stayed there, demanding my eyes on him. “Wrap yourself around me,” he said. I squeezed his shoulders and crossed my legs behind him. He gasped in a way that sounded almost pained when I undulated faster. “That’s it,” he panted. His hands fixed possessively over my hips and guided me onto him.
I dropped my head into the crook of his neck. Giving the control over to him drove me quickly to the edge. “Yes,” I breathed against him. Without thinking I bit his shoulder, and he let out a guttural groan. His hands jumped up to my waist, urging our bodies to meet faster as his fingers flexed into my skin.
“I can feel your body reacting,” he whispered fiercely with the tightening of my insides. “I can feel you getting close.”
I looked into his face. Everything I had been bottling released into my bloodstream, seeping into my bones, begging for an outlet. “David,” I cried with stuttered breaths, crushing his shoulders with my hands.
“I’m here, baby,” he responded, his own voice ragged and shallow. “Let go. I’m here.” Our fingers dug into each other at the same moment. Holding my gaze, he growled from his chest, and I bore down on him. His muscles tensed and contracted underneath my hands, and I watched, rapt, as he gave in. The raw pleasure in his face as he climaxed pushed me over the edge. I came onto him with a body-wracking orgasm that shot waves from my core to the surface of my skin. As my body heated with bliss, I called out for him. Months of simmering loneliness bubbled over, and I collapsed into his arms with unsolicited sobs.
He wrapped me up tightly as his shoulders heaved with deep breaths. “I’m here, baby, I’m here,” he repeated into my hair. “I’ve got you.”
I tangled my fingers in his chest hair and released the pain the only way I could: all at once and with unstoppable force. His hands stroked my back, my hair, but his clutch never loosened. His arms easily engulfed me, and though I was aching, I’d never felt safer than curled into his embrace.
“I’m so sorry,” I said finally, when I’d caught my breath.
He let the words hang for a moment. “Never apologize,” he responded, rocking me against him. “Do you hear me? How can you apologize for that?”
“Oh, David,” I moaned into his skin. He rested his forehead against my sternum, rubbing the still-tingling skin of my back. “What are we going to do?” I asked in a rush of breath. I wasn’t sure if he heard, because he never responded.
Eventually, he rolled us both to set me on my back. He disconnected from
me, tossed the condom aside, and propped his head above mine with his hand. His fingers played with my hair, pushing it back onto the pillow as he looked down at me.
“I don’t always cry after sex,” I said, an empty attempt at humor. “Just with you, apparently.”
“You can’t help your reaction.”
I studied the man above me, still in disbelief that he was, in fact, above me. He concentrated on my hair, raking his hands through the tangles as best he could. “I wish I could help it,” I said.
“Why? Just let go. You don’t need to manage yourself with me.”
I sighed and dropped my gaze. “With you, I have no control.”
“I told you before, I like you this way. Unguarded. Undone.” I bathed in his adoration—his fingers in my hair, his sweet but fleeting words. Already, the guilt was building inside of me, demanding my acknowledgment, trying to break the moment. As if he were listening to my thoughts, he said softly, “I want to take all your sadness away.”
My chin quivered, and I pressed my fingertips to my eyes to stem any more tears.
It’s been so hard, David.
“I know,” he said. He encircled my wrists and carefully pulled my hands from my face. “I know.”
I blinked up at him. Had I said it aloud?
He placed a hand on the base of my neck and kissed me, claiming me with that one gesture. “But I can’t fix it if you won’t let me.” His eyes searched mine, and I looked away. “Don’t turn away from me.”
To let him fix it—that could only mean a solution I’d already decided against. “I can’t,” I whispered. I went to sit up, but his hand on my chest pushed me back into the pillow.
“I said don’t turn away. Look at me.”
My jaw clenched. In that moment, I wasn’t strong enough to keep the hurt off my face, and I didn’t want him to see it. But his hand slid up to my chin, and he turned me to him. His concerned eyes softened a stern expression. “I want to make it better.”
Cityscape Affair Series: The Complete Box Set Page 43