by Kreig, K. L.
“Nothing exciting, I’m afraid. I work at HMT Enterprises as an executive assistant.” For a fucking idiot, I think, but don’t add.
John’s eyes flick momentarily to Gray, who is engaged in serious conversation with the others. I wonder why John is paying attention to me, versus the business dinner he’s supposed to be participating in.
“Not his,” I say softly.
“You look very familiar. Have we met someplace before?” Mental eye-roll. Really, guy? You can’t do better than that?
I don’t know why I feel so out of place being here, but I do. I should be used to polite conversation, I did it all the time when I waitressed, but the way John is scrutinizing me as if he wants to eat me up is making me very edgy. And on the verge of unleashing my inner bitch, which would likely be frowned upon by all present.
“I don’t think so. I don’t get out much.” I take another long sip of the plum flavored alcohol, this time trying to draw it out so he’ll take a goddamn hint and get engaged in the discussion he’s supposed to be having with the others, versus me.
“No. No, you do look familiar. Were you at Firefly last Saturday evening by chance?”
I freeze mid-sip. Holy shit. This cannot be happening. I bring the cup to my mouth, almost choking on the very large, very unladylike gulp I take. Is this the guy who I let finger me in the dark, abandoned hallway? Out of the millions of men in this city, could the universe hate me that much that she sat him next to me?
“Umm, no. I wasn’t.” I can’t even look at him when I lie. Oh God, I have to get out of here before he says anything else. Before Gray finds out. I’m starting to hyperventilate when he speaks as if he doesn’t even notice that I’m two seconds flat from a meltdown.
“Yes. Yes, you were. You were dancing with your girlfriends. My brother and I whisked them away from you, I’m afraid. I danced a few songs with your friend, Kamryn, I think.”
The relief I feel at his admission is so great, I close my eyes and choke out a small sob, which hopefully was interpreted as a laugh. He lowered his voice, thinking that only he and I would hear his next statement. “Actually, I was more interested in you, but you looked a little…lost. If you’re not seeing anyone, I’d love to take you out sometime.”
Oh, how wrong he was. Even before the last word left John’s mouth, I felt a strong hand wrap possessively around the nape of my neck and heard Gray’s chair slide across the floor, bumping up against mine. Invading my personal space without apology, he leans across until our eyes lock seconds before he takes my mouth in a very public, very bruising and very claiming kiss. He may just as well have whipped out his dick and circled around me because he couldn’t have made it clearer that he was marking his territory.
He kisses me until I melt into him, as I always do. Several moments later when he breaks our lip lock, he glares at the man sitting on my opposite side. “She’s mine,” he growled.
Why did that statement of ownership set my blood on fire? Why wasn’t I yelling at him for being a jealous ass? Why didn’t I care that we were putting on a show that everyone in the restaurant would be tweeting about later? Because I craved his dominance and possession, that’s why. It was always like this with him. He was fierce in everything he did.
Working.
Loving.
Fucking.
Me.
“It’s time to go, angel.” He finally leans back and stands, his hand still resting on my neck as I follow. It’s awkward, but he refuses to let go. Everyone else at the table is staring at us like we’ve sprouted wings and are about to take to the skies. Asher starts to speak but quickly stops with the daggers Gray is shooting his way.
“Gentleman, we’ll be in touch. You’re in good hands with my brothers.” He grabs the wrap from the back of my chair and places it on my shoulders before picking up my purse and handing it to me. He pulls me into him for a soft kiss before silently guiding us away from the table and through the restaurant exit. I feel eyes follow us the entire way, and I’m pretty sure I even hear the click of a couple of camera phones. Lovely.
We wait only momentarily before our car pulls up and the older gentleman that drove us here jumps out to open the door. I don’t miss how he won’t look me in the eyes. Great. My face probably turns twenty shades of red.
When we get settled in the car and pull away, I turn to Gray, who is clearly seething with rage. His jaw and fists are clenched, every toned muscle wound tight.
“What was that about?”
He takes a few breaths before he responds, and even then his voice shakes with anger. “I thought it best to leave before I ripped his fucking eyeballs from their sockets for the way they were eye-fucking you.”
I have to bite my lip to keep my smile at bay, but it doesn’t work. When his eyes shift my way and he sees my broad grin, he growls and pulls me close.
“Christ, Livvy. Stop.” He pulls my lip from between my teeth and I laugh. Until his mouth crashes to mine, that is. And then I moan. And when he lifts me onto his lap so I straddle him, I almost weep with joy. His stiff erection hits in exactly the right spot and I can’t help the involuntary movement of my pelvis as he devours me whole. Screw the driver. I want this desperately.
He pulls away and stills my hips. I open my closed lids and our eyes connect. My breath catches at the raw desire and pure love I see floating in his. Those three little words linger on my tongue until I swallow them, but even if I don’t say them, I can’t hide them either. I wouldn’t be able to if I tried.
We sit exactly like this as we drive through the city, silently conveying all the things we can’t voice.
I forgive you.
How can you?
Because that’s what you do when you love someone.
I’ve missed you.
I’ve missed you too.
I wish things could have been different.
So do I.
My body and soul thirst for his. A part of me feels at peace for the first time in years, while the other part is so fucking scared my life is going to crash and burn if I keep recklessly moving forward in this direction. But the side that sighs in peace is slowly overthrowing the fearful one, and every minute I spend in Gray’s presence, I convince myself a little more that this may actually work. That we could possibly reconcile and live happily ever after.
Why does being with him always make me feel like I’m living blissfully unaware in a fairytale? I know fairytales are bullshit, but for the three idyllic years we were together, I would have adamantly disagreed. I feel myself being lulled into the same false dreamland and I’m so tired of fighting it. I want that damn fairytale, even if I don’t deserve it and I know it won’t last.
He pulls me to him tightly, resting my head on his shoulder and I let him. We sit like this for the next fifteen minutes until we pull up in front of a very tall apartment building close to Navy Pier. We exit the car and Gray tells the driver, Henry, goodbye. Henry tips his head toward me and although I manage a small smile, I flush with embarrassment.
Hand in hand, we enter the building. On our way toward the bank of elevators, Gray politely greets Sam, the security guard on duty. When we enter the steel car, we’re alone. Once the door closes, he puts a keycard in a slot, pushes the button to the top floor and tugs me so our fronts are melded together. With my arms around his waist, I look up at him. The predatory look etched on his face makes me shiver in anticipation.
“Do you remember what I told you on the way to dinner?” he rasps, tucking a piece of wayward hair behind my ear.
“Yes,” I whisper.
“Good.” His smoky eyes drop to my mouth. “That’s just round one.” His words travel straight to my needy sex and my entire body clenches with impatience. I want him to kiss me, but he doesn’t. He devours me with his eyes, instead. My greedy body begs for release again, even though it had one mere hours ago by his hand.
Moments later, the elevator doors open. He drags me into his massive apartment, and suddenly my heart starts t
o race and my stomach churns with both nerves and excitement.
“Make yourself at home while I get us a drink,” he calls over his shoulder as he heads into the spacious living area and around the corner, out of sight. I stand there taking in the scene before me.
The entire space is open, with a large modern kitchen on my left. The countertops are black granite. The greyish cupboards, sans hardware, complement them nicely. All appliances are stainless steel and the island contains a built in flat-top range. This kitchen is a chef’s dream and looks very unused.
There’s a hallway with a few closed doors to my right, but the sight that really has my attention is the large bay of windows that overlook Lake Michigan and Navy Pier. Looking at nothing else, I walk through the main living space to the cool glass and admire the brightly lit giant Ferris wheel slowly spinning around. Even though it’s a tourist trap, I’ve always wanted to ride it. When you live in Chicago, it’s just something you need to do once.
As I wait for Gray to return, I imagine mothers and fathers taking their children up in a gondola for the first time and how they’ll tell all of their friends about it at school on Monday. I imagine lovers cuddling together, stealing kisses and touches when they think no one can see, slowly stoking the fire they’ll quench later in the privacy of their bedroom.
I imagine happily ever after. And being with Gray tonight, that’s exactly what I feel. Happy. I decide I’m not going to overthink it. I’m just going to allow myself to enjoy it and deal with the fallout later.
His body heat warms my back, and a glass filled with dark red wine snakes around my front, which I take.
“What are you daydreaming about?” His husky voice sends chills up my spine and fire down to my core.
“Fairytales,” I softly reply.
Our eyes connect in the window’s reflection. I not only see, but feel love and adoration and absolution flowing from him. For the first time, I truly understand, and believe in, unconditional love. I’ve refused Gray the answers he deserves, yet he can still find it within himself to absolve my unknown sins. I honestly wonder, if our positions were reversed, would I be able to do the same. I’d like to think so, but I truly don’t know, and I hate myself for that. I was never deserving of this man and am even less so now.
He turns me to face him and silently takes my drink, which I haven’t touched. He sets it on the end table next to us, along with his. I don’t need it anyway. My head is already buzzing from the alcohol I had earlier. But mostly it’s tumbling from the plethora of emotions currently racing in it. I’m anxious and nervous and horny from our foreplay all evening.
Taking my hand, he leads me through a hallway along the bank of windows and into a large bedroom that I assume is his. We stop at the far side of the king-sized bed covered in a chocolate colored comforter.
A dim light glows from a bedside lamp. Gray surprises me by turning me away from him so my back is against his front. But my surprise disappears once I get a glimpse of us in the floor length mirror and see the fire and lust swim in his eyes as they leisurely rake the length of my body. My breath speeds up and my core dampens. My panties are positively drenched from my earlier orgasm.
“Fairytales, huh?” he breathes. His teeth nip my ear, sending chills down the right side of my body.
“Yes,” I reply, equally breathy.
“Am I your Prince Charming, Livvy?” Yes. You always were.
I’m floating so high on a cloud of want, I can hardly think as his hands travel slowly down my bare arms, leaving behind a trail of intense need. “No,” I manage to mutter. When his eyes flick to mine in the reflective glass, I add, “I think tonight you’re the Big Bad Wolf.”
The smirk that spreads his lips is indeed wolfish. “You’re right, angel. Are you afraid?” he utters softly against my collarbone, his light kisses quietly unraveling me.
I am, but not for the reasons he thinks. And I can’t respond anyway. Heady desire has me tongue-tied as he unzips my dress and drops it to the floor, leaving me in a lavender bra and panty set, along with my heels. His hands mold to my lace covered breasts, pulling down the cups to expose my beaded nipples, which he rolls between his deft fingers. Being able to watch what he’s doing to me, seeing the pure animal lust that’s turned his face into raw need and hard lines is one of the most sensual experiences I’ve ever had.
My heavy head falls back against his strong chest, an involuntary groan escaping. His lips feather my neck and shoulder and soon my bra joins my dress on the carpet. His fabric-covered steely erection is pressed hard between my cheeks, and I want nothing more than for him to free it and slide it inside me.
“Jesus, Livvy. You’re the most beautiful creature ever created. I’m in awe of you.” He turns my face toward his, roughly capturing my mouth. The other hand travels down, underneath the band of my panties; into the place I so urgently crave it. “Fuck, you’re weeping for me,” he groans against my lips. Clever fingers slip through my wet folds and inside me. My walls tighten and another climax calls to me. My body burns to feel the rush of ecstasy that only he can deliver.
His patience finally snaps. He anxiously bends down to remove my panties and I close my eyes and wait for it. I wait for the moment he notices the place I’ve permanently decorated my body in memorial to him. That’s why I didn’t want him to remove my skirt yesterday. At the time, I truly thought I wouldn’t see him again. It was something I never intended anyone to see, let alone Gray. But now it’s inevitable because I simply can’t make myself stay away from him and there’s no way I can keep it hidden.
I hear a sharp intake of breath and know he’s finally spotted it. And I’m terrified of his reaction.
Chapter 21
My heart stutters. “What is that?” I bend down in front of her and trace my fingers along the grey angel wings folded on top of each other that are inked just to the right of her bare mound. The light is too low to make out the details, so I turn her body toward the lamp, and now my heart stops.
Woven throughout the border of the wings, I can clearly see the scripted black letters: I look up and Livvy’s watching my reaction, but I can’t decipher the emotions on her face.
Sadness?
Regret?
Torment?
Fear?
All of the above? Unwelcome tears well in my eyes, and I can do nothing but wrap my arms around her waist, burying my face in her warm, soft flesh. Her hands go to my head, holding me tightly to her.
The pain and confusion I’ve kept buried for the last five years comes rushing back hard and fast and stabs me just as fresh as the first day I truly accepted she was gone and, once again, I find myself asking why?
Why did she leave me?
Why won’t she tell me?
Why wasn’t I good enough?
Am I just kidding myself into believing this time around will end differently? And am I fooling myself into thinking that I can let her back into my life and simply accept her silence when she’s put me through ten kinds of hell?
Maybe it makes me weak, but I love her so fucking much, the answer is yes. I will let her back in because I love her. And true love is unconditional and unwavering and sometimes gut-wrenchingly hard. I would give anything and everything I own for her to love me like that in return.
And the bitch of it is, after seeing her tattoo I know she does. Who brands themselves permanently with the name of their former lover if they’ve voluntarily abandoned them? Not one fucking person I know would do that.
Not. One.
“How long?” I choke. I’m literally hanging onto my shit by a thin, fraying string, and the last thing I want to do is break down and bawl like a baby in front of her.
“Six months,” she replies so quietly I almost don’t hear.
Six fucking months? She just got this tattoo six fucking months ago? She’s been pining away for me like I have been for her this entire time and yet she’s stayed away from me, leaving both of us to wallow in lonely agonizing misery?
“You know why,” she barely whispers.
“No. No, I don’t fucking know why!”
She bends down to grab her bra, but I rip it away and throw it across the room. I'm an ass, making her stand here bare in front of me while I’m fully clothed, but we all do things we regret in moments when we’re angry or hurt. For me, this will be one of those moments, but I can’t find it within myself to stop. The scab has been picked and it’s now bleeding profusely. And a Band-Aid just won’t fucking staunch the gush of anguish now seeping out of the open wound.
“Answer the question,” I grit, punctuating each syllable. She’s quiet for several beats and my fury rises by the second until I’m ready to explode.
“I should leave.”
Leave? My derisive smirk causes her to take a step back. “I’m not surprised you would say that. You’ve been running ever since I’ve known you, Livvy, and you’ve clearly perfected it to a fine fucking art form. Except this time, you’re not only running from me, you’re running from yourself.”
She squares her shoulders and stands tall, regardless of the fact that she’s completely nude; except for the heels I’d envisioned her wearing. Against my wishes, my dick stirs. Clearly he didn’t get the little memo that our plans to worship her have taken a sharp left off the goddamn cliff into the cutting rocks below.
“You have no idea what I’ve been through,” she bites out.
Her indignation digs irritatingly under my skin. “Because you won’t fucking tell me!” I yell. She doesn’t even flinch, but she can’t hide the hurt my words inflict. Livvy could never hide anything from me. I can read her as easily as a Penthouse.
I let my eyes wander down to the place that now bears my name, and fierce possessiveness swells within me, easily crowding out the hurt. Easily overpowering the anger. I think back to the restaurant when that jackass looked like he was ready to eat her for dessert, and I know I’ll never let her walk out that door. No matter what. Thinking of her with another man makes me violent. But thinking of her without me just makes me bleed.