by Harlow James
“Fine. Bossy,” I toss over my shoulder as I reach for the wine bottle, pull the cork out, and gently pour the liquid into my glass.
“You like it when I’m bossy.”
I lift my glass to my lips as I walk away. “That I do.”
Wes serves me a pork roast dish that is to die for, and we feast while catching up on our week before Wes brings up my mother’s visit. “Did you hear from your mom after she left?”
“Nope. She left the next day, acted as if nothing happened, and went on her merry way.”
“Is that normal?” he asks, taking his final bite of food and wiping his mouth.
“Yup. She shows up randomly, and it’s almost always after a break-up. She spews her hatred for the male population, and then leaves as quickly as she came in. But it’s been a while since she’s actually driven out here. Usually I get a drunken phone call.”
He reaches for my hand. “I’m sorry. I know my parents aren’t the most loving on the planet, and certainly have their faults as well, so I can definitely sympathize with what you’re feeling. Although, my mother just kind of does her own thing. She’s not present in our lives, at least in an emotional capacity. I feel like she just had us and then opted to live her life without remembering that she gave birth to two kids.” He shrugs, but for a moment there, I can sense that his mother’s absence might affect him more than he thinks.
“Look at the two of us with all of our mommy issues,” I tease, and the slight grin he gives me lets me know he takes my comment lightly. But there’s something else I want to know about him and I feel like now is the time to dig a little deeper. “So… can I ask you something that’s I’ve been wanting to talk to you about?” I lift my eyes up to take in his reaction.
I watch him swallow and then nod. “Of course.”
“We didn’t really get a chance to discuss your confession in Vegas. I mean, we talked about how you don’t want me to stop living my life because you don’t drink, but you never told me how your alcoholism started.”
Wes sighs and then stands, reaching for my plate and clearing his as well as he walks back into the kitchen. “It got bad after my grandfather got sick. And then when he died and I found out he left his company to me, I felt like my life had been decided for me.” He places the dishes in the sink on the island and turns the faucet on, concentrating on scrubbing them instead of looking at me. I walk over to the island and take my seat across from him again as I listen to him.
“I enjoyed partying anyway, and Hayes knew all the best clubs to visit, as you can imagine. I was young and wasn’t ready to grow up, I guess. I don’t know—" He shakes his head while moving the sponge around one of the plates. “I felt like all of this responsibility had been bestowed upon me and all I remember feeling was this fight response, like if I ignored it, it would all go away.”
“So you turned to alcohol?”
“Yes. Like I said, I think I went almost an entire year having a drink every day. It was all I thought about. I hurt people with my selfishness though, Shayla,” he grates, his brow pinching together as he speaks. “I made mistakes and choices that I can’t take back, but I knew getting sober was the only thing I could do to try to make things right. To make my grandfather proud.”
“He would be proud of you, Wes,” I say, reaching across the counter to stroke his forearm. He freezes in his movements and peers up at me.
“I hope so. But I still have a long way to go.”
After I finish helping Wes clean the kitchen, we make our way upstairs to his room. As I struggle to keep my eyes open, Wes suggests we sit on the balcony and enjoy the view of Santa Barbara below us.
“I could get used to this,” I murmur, snuggling in close to Wes’s chest as he sits on the lounger behind me, encasing me in his arms.
“You’d better get used to it. I hate being here without you.” He plants a kiss to my temple and squeezes me tightly before he starts moving his lips down my face.
A kiss on my cheek. A nibble on my neck. A stroke of his tongue on my collarbone.
“What are you doing, Wes?” I whisper breathlessly as my entire body heats up.
“Sampling my dessert.” His finger pulls the neck of my sweater off of my shoulder as he places open-mouthed kisses on my flesh, dragging his tongue across my collarbone and sucking on the skin where my neck meets my shoulder.
“Is that so?”
“Yes. Are you going to stop me?” His breath hits my ear as goosebumps spark all over my skin.
“Not in a million years.”
I turn in his lap and move to straddle him, placing my legs on either side of his hips. I grip the back of his head and bring his mouth to mine, savoring our kiss like a fine wine.
Every facet of this man that I’ve discovered has me reeling for more. No matter what my mother may think, what we have is real—and I’ll be damned if I let her jaded life experiences ruin that.
Wes lifts the bottom of my pink, knit sweater over my head, tossing it to the ground as his mouth finds the top of my breasts, licking the globes that are exposed above the cups of my bra.
“Fuck, Shayla. I can’t get enough of you.”
I reach down and stroke him through his shorts, finding his rock hard length straining against the fabric as he continues to move his lips over mine.
“Why aren’t we naked yet?”
“Hold on.” He kisses me and then moves me off of him to stand, walking inside of his room and returning quickly with the softest blanket I’ve ever felt. He strips off his shirt, unbuttons his shorts, and shoves them down with his boxer briefs in a matter of seconds.
“I thought you wanted to be naked?” He grins as he takes his seat back on the fabric covering the lounger.
I hold his gaze as I slowly reach behind me and unhook my bra, shoving it down my arms and exposing my breasts to him. I can see the appreciation in his eyes as I push my leggings and thong down my legs next, rising slowly and seductively, teasing him as I dart my tongue out to lick my lips.
“Get the fuck over here, Shayla,” he commands as I take the two steps to him and assume my position from before, straddling his waist.
Wes reaches down and pulls the blanket over my back, wrapping it around my shoulders and neck while simultaneously pulling me closer to him.
“I don’t want you to get cold, but I didn’t want to miss fucking you up here with this view.”
I chuckle. “That’s so sweet and dirty at the same time.”
He thrusts his hips up slightly, causing his length to rub along my slit, coating him in my wetness that has been building since his lips first touched my skin. “You know I can be both, sweetheart.”
“Yes, I do. And I love it.” I lean in to kiss him, but Wes places his hand on my chest, keeping me from moving forward while gazing intensely into my eyes. “What’s wrong?”
I watch his throat bob up and down as he swallows and then his hand is cupping my cheek, stroking my skin with his thumb.
“I love you, Shayla,” he says on a whisper, the words hitting me straight in my heart as I feel a wave of reciprocation radiate from the center of my chest. “I—I couldn’t wait to tell you any longer. I want you to know how I feel. I never thought I deserved to feel like this, but your presence in my life has proved me wrong. When you look at me, I feel like I can do anything, build nothing from ashes. I can’t imagine my life without you in it.”
I feel my eyes well with tears as he stares up at me. And I know without a shadow of a doubt that I feel the same way, despite how much I’ve fought it. “I love you too, Wes.”
He lets out a breath and then pulls me forward, crashing his mouth to mine as I fight to stay upright. I grind against his length again as our moans fill the air around us, the noise of traffic and waves crashing in the far distance mixing with our own noises of desire and love.
Wes reaches down and urges me to lift up so he can line himself up to my entrance. And as I slide down, joining us together, I know there’s nothing that c
ould keep me apart from this man. I trust him completely—with my heart and my body—and that is something I never thought I’d be able to do in my life.
***
The next morning I wake up with a shadow hovering over me as I blink a few times to clear the fuzziness from my eyes.
“What are you doing?” I glare up at Wes with one eye open, taking in his smirk, those beautiful green eyes, and his messy blonde hair.
“I’m about to go for a run and wanted to invite you along.”
“I don’t run on Sundays,” I grumble, rolling over so I can go back to sleep.
I hear him chuckle and then feel the weight of him lift off the bed. “Alright. Just thought I’d offer.”
“I appreciate it. But maybe next time.”
“I’ll hold you to it,” he whispers before leaning down to kiss my forehead, lingering longer than necessary, but giving me goosebumps while doing so. “I’ll be back soon. I love you.”
I roll over once more, not wanting to miss the look on his face as I respond to him. “I love you too,” I murmur, not bothering to fight the smile that stretches across my lips from saying those words to that man.
Once I rotate back into a comfortable position, I’m half asleep as I vaguely recall him leaving, slipping right back into the deep sleep he pulled me out of just moments ago.
A few hours later, my brain finally wakes up as I notice the light is much brighter in the room than it was earlier when Wes left. I glance at the clock on the nightstand and see it’s after nine. Between school, work, and a lack of sleep, apparently my body needed the extra rest today.
I stretch my limbs, remembering how much detail Wes paid to my body last night as we made love on his balcony. It was the most romantic moment of my life—moving over him as the stars twinkled in the sky above us, hearing him tell me how much he loves me as we chased our release together. And when we went inside, Wes held me in his arms as we drifted off to sleep.
Falling in love with him has been the most exhilarating ride I’ve ever been on. It’s been full of self-doubt, self-sabotage, and reluctancy. But after last night, I feel like nothing else could possibly make me doubt how the man feels about me.
I stand from the bed and walk over to where my bag is resting in a chair in the corner of Wes’s room. I dig out my clothes I brought for today and then glide into the bathroom, desperate for a hot shower.
Once I’m clean and wearing clean clothes, I run a towel through my hair to soak up the excess moisture and realize that Wes should be back by now. There’s no way the man went on a three-hour run. I know he has stamina, but I think that’s even borderline super human status.
The sound of the front door shutting echoes from downstairs. That must be him. He probably just decided to run a few errands after his run and is just now returning. I hang the towel back up in the bathroom and then apply some moisturizer to my face, chuckling as I remember my mother’s warning about my skincare routine.
As I hobble down the stairs, I fight my smile at the thought of kissing him after a few short hours apart. I only have a couple hours before I need to head home and get started on my homework for the week, but after our declaration last night, the last thing I want is to leave so soon.
As I turn the corner into the open living room and kitchen area, I feel my face fall and my stomach drop as my eyes take in a tall blonde woman standing at the counter, clicking away on her phone. Her black pencil skirt clings to her tiny waist, her white blouse hangs loose on her thin frame, but her red lips spread wide as her eyes flick up and catch me standing there, staring at her.
“Can I help you?” I ask, unsure how to handle this situation. The woman doesn’t appear to be a burglar. She obviously found a way in the house. I know she’s not his assistant since I’ve met Sheryl in person. And I don’t believe Wes has any other sisters I’m unaware of.
She drops her phone on the counter and then strides over to where I’m standing. “As a matter of fact, you most certainly can. You can get the hell out of this house.”
“Excuse me?”
“You heard me. You need to leave, sweetie. Wes doesn’t need you anymore.”
I take a step back, preparing to punch this woman in the face. “I’m sorry, but who are you?”
She smirks and then snickers, licking her lips before delivering a bomb I never saw coming. “I’m his wife.”
Chapter 24
Wes
I pull into the driveway of my home, anxious to get back to Shayla. I took a longer run than normal this morning, but I hit a stride and didn’t want to stop. By the time I was done, I hopped in my car and decided to grab some coffee and breakfast sandwiches from a shop near my office. And then since I was near my office, I stopped in to take care of a few things. By the time I glanced at the clock, I’d realized I’d been gone for over three hours and then raced home to Shayla, knowing she was probably awake by now.
I told her I loved her last night, and now I need to tell her everything. I need to give her every morsel of truth and connect the story of the breadcrumbs I’ve left for her so far. She knows about my alcoholism. She knows I have a strained relationship with my father. She knows that I’m working on a project here in Santa Barbara that is important to me. But she doesn’t know how it all ties together yet.
As I roll to a stop in the driveway, I notice Shayla’s car isn’t there. I pick up my phone and see I don’t have any messages or missed calls from her, which is odd if she left. Usually she is pretty good about communicating with me.
Perplexed and concerned, I grab the food and coffee that is cold now and make my way to the door. I turn the knob and step inside, calling out for Shayla as I make my way into the kitchen even though I’m fairly certain she’s not here.
“Shayla?”
No answer.
“Shayla?” I call one more time as I set the bags down, but still nothing, until I hear the sound of footsteps coming down the stairs.
I cautiously walk around the corner and about lose my damn mind staring into the eyes of a woman I never thought I’d see again after our divorce.
“Trinity?”
She drops down the last few steps and then smirks at me, patting me on the chest. “Hey, Wesley. Damn, California has been good to you.” She walks around me and into the kitchen, pulling her wet hair up off of her neck and securing it with a clip to her head.
“What the fuck are you doing here, Trinity?”
“Damn. Is that how you greet your wife?”
“Ex-wife,” I grate between my teeth. I swear I might crack one from how hard I’m pressing my jaw together right now.
“We could fix that, you know,” she says with a wave of her hand. Then her eyes move around the house. “Man, it’s been so long since I’ve been here. Gramps would be proud of all that you’ve done, Wesley.”
“Don’t talk about him.” I take a deep breath, fighting like hell to remain calm. “Answer my question, Trinity? Why are you here?”
“Well, you would know that I wanted to talk to you if you’d answer the damn phone.” I recall her call last night that I ignored and the one when we were in Vegas last week. The thing is, if she’s not calling me about business during business hours, then I don’t answer.
She tilts her head to the side. “Seems you’ve been busy lately, Wes. Charity galas, partying in Vegas, a new woman on your arm. Although isn’t going to Vegas like a cardinal sin for an alcoholic?”
“Recovering alcoholic. And it’s none of your business what I do with my time. That’s the beauty of divorce.”
She strides up to me, reaching out to touch my face, but I retract. “You’ve changed, Wesley. You’re running your grandfather’s company swimmingly… and you look good.”
“What’s your point?”
She licks her lips and then leans in to kiss me, but I back up and throw my hands in the air. “What the fuck, Trinity!”
And then her anger flares and I prepare for the burn. “Who is she, Wes? Why does that w
oman,” she says, pointing to the front door that I’m beginning to suspect Shayla ran out of when Trinity showed up, “why does she get this version of you when I begged you to grow the fuck up while we were together?”
I stare at Trinity—my ex-wife—and relive every dark day of our painfully short two-year long marriage. I met Trinity at a nightclub—shocker. She was sexy and fun, and I was buzzing on alcohol more hours during the day than not, avoiding the fact that my grandfather was dying and I didn’t know how to process that. I thought it was love, I clung to this euphoria I felt with her, and we got married after knowing each other for two months, much to the dismay of my parents. But I was a shit show and I was convinced I was in love, until Trinity showed her true colors and she became greedy, especially after my grandfather died and we found out I would be the next CEO of the Morgan Hotel empire. By then I was fed up with her, starting to see her for who she really was, and of course being married meant that she expected things from me, like a family and giving up partying—things that I wasn’t willing to give her.
The day our divorce was final was the day I got into the accident with Nolan. I was on my way to celebrate cutting the noose I felt she had wrapped around my neck, and drove recklessly with a young boy in my car. The only thing that mattered to me that night was getting drunk, not the fact that other people’s lives could be affected by my poor choices. Although the truth bomb that was dropped on me before I ended up with Nolan in my car definitely changed my life as well.
“Trinity. Our marriage was a joke. We were young and stupid.”
“I loved you!” she shouts.
“No, you loved the idea of me, of what I could offer you.” It took me months of rehab and therapy to come to that conclusion, as well as the clause in our divorce settlement that she was entitled to a flat alimony payment and employment with Morgan Hotels, as long as she agreed to move across the country and run managerial operations in New York. The woman was one hell of a business woman, I’ll give her that. But I wanted the reminder of our marriage to be as far away from me as possible.