by Ava Claire
I swiped the bouquet and breezed toward the house. I paused at the window box, smiling at the bright little flowers that stretched out of the dirt. She wanted a house in the country, with space for her garden, and kids to roam. Her face used to light it up when she talked about everything she wanted for us.
I’d get that light back. She’d look at me the way she used to, before she read that letter from Herman. It didn’t mean anything. They didn’t mean anything. No matter what, her face was the one I wanted to wake up to. I’d always come home to Sophia.
I stepped into the house, expecting her to be curled up in the armchair with one of her Harlequins, but the house was dark.
Foreboding.
I flipped the light switch, frowning. “Soph?”
No answer. I sniffed. And no dinner either. I tucked the flowers at my armpit and bent over to unlace my shoes. I kicked them off and called out her name a second time. Silence was my answer.
Weird. Her Altima was in the driveway.
“Probably taking a nap,” I murmured, making a beeline for the bedroom. It was dark, except for the warm glow coming from beneath the bathroom door. No steady drum of water, and she was very strict about turning on the fan if we were taking a deuce, so I bet on her being in the tub.
My cock stirred in my fatigues. I could almost picture her wrapped up in bubbles and fragrance. Her dark hair pulled to the top of her head, showing off the swan-like line of her neck. My next steps were clear. I’d strip down, give her the flowers, then I’d show her how much I cared...after making her moan at octaves that could shatter glass.
I opened the door, the flowers at the ready. “Su—”
My heart followed the flowers as they crashed to the floor. Shock made me look down at them, the bright, rainbow colored daisies now a single color.
Red.
Blood.
So much blood.
Agony rose from the depths of me as I looked up and saw her. Her arm hung limply outside of the tub. There was a gaping wound at her wrist. Pale fingers pointed in the direction of a razor that was coated in blood. Fingers pointed at me.
I knew she was gone, but I pulled her body from the water.
So much blood.
Red water. Red tiles. Red seeping from the second slash on her other wrist.
I clasped her to me, my sobs screaming in the silence. If I could have just told her how sorry I was. If she could have seen the flowers, maybe that could have saved her.
But my conscience didn’t buy that. There was no point in lying when the only truth I’d ever known had left the world.
Sophia was doomed the moment she fell in love with me.
*
“Start over. From the beginning.”
I massaged my temple, blazing a path as I paced back and forth. “The last thing I want to do is go through it again, Lisa.”
Not to mention I was starting to feel like I was on some sort of estrogen overload for coming to my assistant with this in the first place. I paused, thinking that over. Where the else would I have gone? I sure as hell wasn’t calling up any of my boys with this. Not that any of them would have answered the phone anyway. The guys that weren’t weirded out by my fame were mesmerized by it, and once my films started tanking, the groupies stopped wanting to hang out.
Lisa was it.
That should have been more depressing, but I was too fucking stressed out by the Megan situation to dwell on it.
Lisa stalked to the minibar. “What do you want to drink?”
I arched a brow, remembering how she’d shut me down a few weeks ago when I tried to self medicate with booze.
She dismissed it with a shrug. “You look like you could use a drink. If I’m wrong—”
“Vodka, straight up,” I said quickly. Once the burn lashed down my throat, I forced myself not to ask for a second. She sipped her wine patiently, but her eyes were bright and eager.
I massaged my neck, but the bundle of muscles didn’t relent. The pressure in my chest festered, an itch that I couldn’t scratch. I just wanted to drink until I couldn’t feel anything at all.
Was this what I thought it was?
Was this...rejection?
I pinched the bridge of my nose, exhaling disgustedly. This was why I was never serious. Why I never let anyone get close. If there was no skin in the game, no...heart on the line, there was nothing to lose.
“I went to see Megan,” I said finally. “With dark chocolate gelato in tow.”
Lisa grinned around the rim of her wine glass. “They say the way to a woman’s heart is through chocolate.”
A smile languished somewhere behind my frown as I remembered the events that led me here. It had started off well. I finally opened up to her, and she finally let me in. And then her ex sauntered in the room.
“You know I don’t do romance,” I said. “It’s complicated and usually ends badly. I mean, the statistics on divorce—”
“I know you’re not about to throw numbers at me right now.” Lisa put her wine glass aside and plodded over to the bed where I sat. “Anyone with half a brain knows that love defies logic. Sometimes it works out, sometimes it doesn’t. But if you don’t try, don’t take the risk, you’ll never know.”
I peered over at her, seeing her in a new light. “When did you become such an expert on love?”
“I know I spend most of my waking hours cleaning up your messes, but I do have a life, you know. Have my own angst-filled drama, my own trysts, right on this very bed—”
I made a face. “Ew.”
She jabbed me with her elbow, chuckling before her face went serious. “So gelato, then a heart to heart, then I’m assuming all hell broke loose?”
I studied my empty glass. “I met her ex.”
She winced. “I’m sure that was awkward.”
His smug little face flashed in my head and I tightened my grip on my glass. “Not the word I’d use. It was closer to...infuriating. Megan didn’t give me the details, but I saw her face. He really hurt her, Lisa. But somehow, she looked him in the eye and told him to fuck off.” The rush of awe and pride I felt stormed my senses and I was back in her classroom, her warm body in my arms and her taste on my lips.
“We kissed.”
Lisa squealed excitedly, bouncing on the bed like it was Christmas morning. “Oh my God, you kissed?!”
“And then she ended it and kicked me out.”
Lisa’s face fell. “Oh.” She fiddled with the hem of her shirt. “I’m sure there’s a good explanation. Maybe it was just too much, too soon?”
“Or maybe she realized she’s just not interested,” I said tersely. “It makes sense. I found someone amazing. Someone that I could have something real with—only to have it snatched away. I was a fucking idiot to think I could have that. I don’t get the girl in the end. Not in the real world. Not after Sophia.”
Silence swallowed the conversation. The quiet before the storm.
“Look at me, Cade.” Lisa’s voice was stern.
I cleared my throat and rose from the bed, needing to put some distance between me and this conversation. Hide the hurt. “You need a refill?”
“No, I need you to look at me.”
I met her gaze begrudgingly. She held it tight as she strode toward me.
“I want you to listen, and listen good. What happened to Sophia was not your fault.”
Her words cut like a knife. Hurt was too close to anger. Anger I could handle, so I let it take the wheel. “What the fuck are you saying? Of course it was my fault. I treated her like shit. I broke her and then she...she...”
“She killed herself,” Lisa said gently. She moved closer. “She made the choice, Cade. Maybe you were a crap husband, but she was troubled.”
“And if I wasn’t so busy doing everything but honoring my vows, maybe she’d still be alive,” I said, my voice rising. “This is my cross to bear. I don’t deserve Megan, or any other woman. I deserve to be alone.”
Lisa’s eyes narrowed as she
glossed over my face. “You really believe that, don’t you? You really believe that you don’t deserve to be happy.”
My throat closed. The pain was like a caged beast inside me, scratching and clawing its way around my chest. “What right do I have to be happy?”
A sad smile flashed across her lips. “You have every right, Cade. You have to stop punishing yourself. You have to live.” She wrapped her arms around my waist and hugged tight, not letting go. Not relenting until I relaxed and let her words sink in. I wasn’t to the point where I believed that it wasn’t my fault. I’d probably carry the guilt of Sophia’s death for the rest of my life. But maybe it was time to stop punishing myself. Time to believe that I could have something good. That I deserved someone good.
Lisa pulled back, wiping her eyes and glaring up at me like I was an idiot. “What are you hugging me for? You need to hug Megan!”
“I don’t know,” I said skeptically. “I think she needs some space.”
“As a woman, I can tell you that’s the last thing she wants or needs. She wants you to fight for her love. Make her feel like she’s worth it.” Lisa grinned at me. “It’s not over unless you don’t go to her.”
I grabbed my coat and keys. Make her feel like she’s worth it. That I could do...because Megan was worth everything.
Chapter Twelve
Megan
I was seriously starting to regret my decision because murmuring and footsteps filtered through the walls. If I had to guess Joe had an argument with his girlfriend and was stomping back and forth, trying to think of a way to explain away whatever girl he’d been eyeballing.
I tossed the papers to the side and stormed to the door, yanking it open. I’d been ready to tell him to take the internal debate to a bar or coffee shop, or just do his girlfriend, and every other resident on our floor a favor, and end their relationship. But the man in front of my apartment wasn’t my leering neighbor.
It was Cade.
His olive eyes widened, embarrassment coloring his jaws as he realized he was caught.
I was stunned, gaping in disbelief that he was right outside my door and had been for the past fifteen minutes. Stalking back and forth, trying to figure out a way to knock and make his presence known.
I guess he’s a mere mortal after all. Flesh and bones with the ability to get nervous like the rest of us. From the way he stood tall, and scrubbed the imperfection away by clearing his throat, it was clear he was ashamed. It was endearing to see the massive man showing me that side of him.
I realized we were just staring at each other, and finally asked the question that popped into my head when I first saw him. “What are you doing here, Cade?”
His deep voice encircled me. “Can I come in?”
Since the last time we’d seen each other he hadn’t even bothered with asking, I stepped to the side and let him pass. He took in my apartment with a wonder that made me blush.
“I know it’s not the Ritz Carlton or wherever you’re staying—”
“It’s great,” he cut in, striding toward the living room. He nodded at the coffee table, with a smile on his lips. “My mom had one just like that. Not as well maintained as yours, though. We had more scuffs than paint, and she stuck a phone book under one leg to make the thing level.”
I crossed my arms, watching him with interest as he looked over my modest furnishings like they brought back memories. Humble memories. I’d always assumed he came from money. Not billions, but definitely upper middle class. He had the casual stature of someone that never had to go without. But I’d misread him. Nothing in my place was bought new except the groceries, and the laptop that I’d gotten as a graduation present from my mother. If he felt a kinship with any of it, it was the result of knowing what it was like to pinch pennies and look past the exterior to the beauty underneath.
Wrong about his sense of entitlement, about his similarity to your ex’s—
I bit my lip, stopping the train of thoughts dead in its tracks. The verdict was still out on that.
I knew it was good manners to ask him if he wanted something to drink, but he still hadn’t answered my first question. “Why are you here?”
He was at the window, his muscular back still as he gazed at the city behind the blinds. “I came here to apologize.”
I blinked, not expecting that. I’d expected him to go for something more aggressive, something visceral. My body sighed sadly as I crossed my arms against my chest. “Apologize?”
He faced me, his eyes solemn and honest. “I’ve wanted you from the moment I saw you, Megan.”
My heart leapt in my chest, and my core tingled with excitement. It hoped that this apology was a precursor to other things. Lips kissing. Lips exploring...
“I’m the kind of guy that’s always gone through life following my dick. But I don’t want to do that anymore.”
I bit my lip, needing the slice of pain to overwhelm the desires that built inside me. “O-Oh?”
He rushed toward me, clearly wanting to touch me, but he kept a few feet between us. “I still want you.” His eyes warmed, desire turning the irises dark. “I haven’t wanted anyone in this way in a long time. But I want to do it right. Dating and flowers and awkward dinner conversation. I want to...woo you.”
The sides of my mouth pulled into a smirk. “Woo me?”
He returned the slight grin, full lips spreading wide. “That’s right. Wine and dine and all of that.”
“I never—” I paused, tears pricking my eyes. “No one’s ever said that to me. We usually fall into bed, and the dating comes later, if at all.”
His smile took a devious turn as he dropped his gaze to my body and slowly worked his way back up. “Make no mistake. I want to take you to bed. Or on that futon. Or up against the wall. In the shower...but I want more than just sex, Megan. I want all of you.”
The tear unhinged from my eye, but he brushed it away with his thumb. He lingered, cradling my cheek. He had something else to say, but he was struggling with it. I hoped it wasn’t more of this. I was already crying. If he was any sweeter to me, while I was boxing him up as a jerk like every other guy, I’d sob like a baby.
“I should have been telling you just how amazing you were every hour, every day. How inspiring. You make me believe in love again, Megan.”
Usually I would be swiping at my cheeks, unwilling to show weakness, but Cade made me feel like it was okay to be vulnerable. He wouldn’t use it against me.
He’d take care of me.
I inched closer, the warmth of his body radiating and cocooning me in him. I looked into his eyes and asked the question. “Am I safe with you, Cade?”
“I’d never hurt you. Ever.”
His lips trembled, and I traced the bottom with my fingertips. They were as soft as I remembered.
“Do you want to kiss me?” I whispered, every part of me straining toward him. Waiting with bated breath.
“I want to do much more than just kiss you—but a kiss is a good place to start.”
He drew his fingers through my hair and pulled me to him. My eyes closed, and my heart opened as our lips collided. His virile scent, equal parts spicy and sensual, roped me in like some heady aphrodisiac.
My lips explored him, over the ridge of his lips, stroked his jaw. I lingered at the juncture where his jaw met his neck. His cock drummed against me.
I smiled deviously. Had I found his spot?
I jutted my tongue out and flicked. He groaned; a low, pleading thing, so I swirled my tongue faster, my heart roaring in my ears. It pulsed ecstatically, finally glad desire was the only thing to be heard instead of reservations and doubt.
I spread my fingers wide, then ran them down the perfect, toned muscles of his chest. His cock approved of my destination, but his hand shot out to stop me when I grazed his fly.
I frowned, then pondered the move for a moment. “Are you into control? One of those BDSM types?”
He relaxed his grip, his eyes sparkling with amusement. �
�No.” He took in my stumped expression and stroked my jaw with a single finger. “It’s taking everything in me not to take you right here, Megan. But I want to make sure that you’re ready.”
I bit my lip seductively and pointedly rubbed my body against his. My panties were drenched with the need that flowed from me. Everything in me knew the clear and obvious answer to that question. “Oh, I’m ready.”
His eyes darkened to the deepest emerald, and he inhaled deep. He licked his lips like he could smell my arousal...and hungered for more. He squeezed his eyes shut like he was praying for strength and took a step backward. “I don’t mean are you ready. I mean are you sure that this is what you want?”
I knew what he was asking, but I batted my eyes seductively. Dwelling on that question would steer us away from what I desired with every part of me. “Absolutely. I want you to...” The word was on the tip of my tongue, and my pussy quivered. “I want you to fuck me.”
He drank me in as he came forward, body taut and delicious against mine. He raked his fingers through my hair, his eyes still working over me. Taking their time. Savoring me.
“That’s just the thing. I’ve fucked every girl I’ve ever been with. But I don’t want to fuck you, Megan. I want to make love to you.”
I arched my brow playfully. “How very...Harlequin of you.”
“What I want to do with you has nothing to do with steads and quivering lips.”
I pouted playfully, but his expression was serious as a heart attack.
“I don’t want to just strip down and plow into you on the couch.”
“You don’t?”
“I want to—” He paused, like he thought he was screwing it up and was struggling to find the right words. “With you, I feel like I want to do all the romantic shit that I used to think was corny as hell. I don’t want to just have earth shattering, hair pulling sex. I want to take you to a place where there’s nothing but you and I. I want you to feel all the things we screw up and say wrong as we come apart in each other’s arms. So if we aren’t there, I’ll wait. I’ll wait as long as you need me to because I’ve been waiting for you. Hoping, deep down, that I could find something real again.”