by June Gray
I knew he was close when his fingers tightened around my hips; I clenched around him harder to drive him over the edge. He wrapped an arm around my chest and lifted me up, biting into my shoulder as he pushed deep into me and came with a long groan.
We collapsed on the bed in a heap, West’s body a comforting and pleasant weight on me. He gasped by my ear, his breath ruffling my hair and tickling my cheek. After a few minutes, he leaned up on his elbows and gently brushed hair away from my face. “I don’t know what to say right now that could convey just how strongly I feel about you, so I’ll just say this: it’s as if our bodies were made for each other.”
I couldn’t speak. I mean, what do you say to something like that?
He pressed a kiss to my temple and rolled away, heading to the bathroom to take care of the condom.
When he came back, he wore an exhausted-but-happy expression on his face. He lay down behind me and drew me into his chest, wrapping an arm around my waist protectively.
He sighed against my hair. “Do you think I’m a good person, Kat?”
His question took me aback and a few seconds elapsed before I came up with an answer. “Of course. You wouldn’t be here with me if I didn’t think so. Why?”
“I don’t know. I sometimes get the feeling that I wasn’t so great in my former life,” he said, his words hiding more than he was revealing.
I reached back and patted his thigh. “But you’re a good person now. Let’s leave it at that.”
He nuzzled into the back of my neck. “I would never hurt you, Kat, he said. “I hope you know that.”
We didn’t say anything else after that. He only held me close, his breathing ruffling my hair as we got lost in our own thoughts. Honestly, I didn’t want to know where his line of questioning was leading. For that moment, I was content to stay in the afterglow, even if it meant ignoring the worries of the man beside me, the man who was suddenly questioning his own virtue.
It was strange, this amnesia business. The more of his identity came back, the less sure of himself he became.
16
WEST
“Oh my God, I love your songs!” the woman with long brown hair said as soon as I stepped off the stage.
I slipped my guitar around to my back and flashed her my patented sexy, humble smile. “Thanks. It was written at a dark point, when I was searching for the meaning of life.”
“And do you think you’ve found it?”
I touched her cheek. “I think I’m starting to.”
She smiled, dazzled by my looks and pathos. “Would you like to have a drink or two with me and my friend?” She motioned to the booth in the back of the smoky pub where her red-haired friend sat with their drinks.
Of course I said yes. I’d seen them as soon as I’d entered the bar, had kept my eyes trained in their direction the entire time I performed, all in an attempt to see if I could sleep with both of them.
It worked.
I was in a gray suit exiting a tall building, strutting along the sidewalk like I owned the entire city. I entered the nearest coffeeshop and stood in line, flashing my newest Breitling as if checking the time.
I spotted a woman entering the establishment, looking beautiful but distant. She was a challenge I knew I had to conquer.
When I reached the front, I gave my order to the cashier then gestured to the woman behind me. “And whatever the lady is having.”
The woman’s eyes flicked up to me in surprise. “Oh, thank you.”
Once outside she thanked me again. I asked for her number. She smiled demurely as she handed over her business card. And the deal was done.
I was at a resort in France reclined on a lounger by the hotel pool, watching beautiful women walk by. I wore Speedos, not afraid to show off the physique I’d worked hard for. I walked towards the deep end of the pool and dived in, resurfacing several seconds later by the edge where an ethereal woman sat with a drink in her hand and her feet dangling in the water. I stood up and shook out my hair before brushing it back, pretending I hadn’t seen her.
She tutted at me when drops of water hit her, but a smile played along the edges of her pink mouth.
“Excusez-moi,” I said and held out a hand. “Je m’appelle—.”
“You don’t have to try so hard,” she said with a faint French accent. “I can speak English.” She put her drink down and shook only the tips of my fingers, a gentle touch that incited something primal in me.
“Is French your native tongue?” I asked, purposefully talking about tongues to plant the seeds of sex in her mind.
It hadn’t taken long—only a few other choice words were slipped into the conversation before she was inviting me back up to her room. We didn’t leave that hotel for the next twenty hours; she showed me that speaking French and English weren’t the only things her tongue could do.
I woke alone. The space beside me was cold and bare, only intensifying my feelings of disappointment.
I was a promiscuous slimeball in my past life, a manwhore of the worst degree who considered women as objects to be desired and challenges to be conquered. I was that guy who didn’t have relationships because I didn’t like commitments, who used my looks and charms to entice women to my bed for the night then sent them home the next day.
A large part of me was disgusted with the man I used to be, but if I was being completely honest, a part of me was also filled with pride. It was a disconcerting feeling, to feel like two people at once and be unsure of who I wanted to be.
I crawled off the bed and slipped back into my jeans. Through the open door of the bedroom I saw Kat in the kitchen, wearing my shirt and nothing else as she bent over to put a tray in the oven. Pride welled up my chest, a sort of caveman reaction to seeing her in my clothes, knowing that I had tamed her and made her my own.
Immediately I felt guilty for it, wondering if that was the old or the new me doing the talking.
She turned around and her face lit up, making my chest constrict. Whoever the hell I was, one thing was certain: I would do anything to keep her.
I wrapped my arms around her, taking in her natural scent.
“I’m making cinnamon rolls,” she said, trying to pull away. “To go with the cinnamon-flavored coffee.”
I held on, burying my face in her neck. “Smells good. Like sex and sugar.”
“Let me go, West,” she said with a laugh, pushing at my stomach.
I grabbed her shirt when I took a step back, the hem lifting up to reveal her little white panties. Blood surged to my penis. “You’re so sexy,” I said with an appreciative smile.
She rolled her eyes and covered her underwear. “You’re such a horndog,” she said. “Even granny panties turn you on.”
“When it comes to you, anything turns me on,” I said, but the smile slid off my face when a sensation washed over me, a vague feeling that I’d somehow used that line before. I felt dirty in that moment, completely despicable. “I’m going to take a shower,” I said and left without another word.
In the shower, I borrowed Kat’s loofah and scrubbed at my body, feeling unclean, trying in vain to wipe the memory of those women. But in the end, I only succeeded in washing off the scent of the one woman who mattered.
“Room for one more?”
I spun around and found Kat pulling open the glass door and stepping inside. I ignored my dick, which was still standing at attention, and moved aside to give her room. “Good timing. I’m all done here so you can have the shower all to yourself.” I kissed her forehead before stepping out, avoiding looking at her face, at the confusion I knew I’d see there. “I’ll go make sure the cinnamon rolls don’t burn,” I called over the noise of the water.
Kat was in the shower for less than ten minutes. She came out wearing a long pale blue sweater that set off her eyes and a pair of fitted jeans, her hair in a damp ponytail high in the back of her head.
She beat me to the coffee pot and poured her own cup, but she didn’t take a sip. Instead she
just stared at me as I stood on the other side of the kitchen counter, two plates of cinnamon rolls in between us. “You gonna tell me what’s wrong?” she asked after some time.
I sighed through my nose and prepared to be better than the man I used to be. “I shouldn’t be here.”
I watched the confusion and pain flash in her eyes a moment before she shuttered her expression, hiding behind that wall of ice again. “You shouldn’t or you don’t want to?”
“There’s nowhere else I’d rather be than here, but that doesn’t mean I deserve it,” I said. I reached across the counter for her, but she dodged out of my reach. I scrubbed my face with my palm. “Kat, I had another flashback. Or several of them actually.”
Her blue eyes widened. “And?”
“I dreamed of a guy who used women then tossed them aside.” I walked around and held her by the arms. “I’m that guy, Kat. That guy you watch or read about: the eternal bachelor who doesn’t give a shit about anyone else’s feelings but his own. I’m that asshole.”
She set her mug down on the counter, keeping her eyes on anything but me. Finally, she looked up with her lips stiff and her nostrils flaring. “What else do you remember?”
“I remembered I live and work in a big city far away from here.”
She stepped back with a quizzical look on her face and voiced what we were both thinking. “Then what the hell are you doing in Alaska?”
Kat was entirely too quiet while we ate. “That was good,” I said, scraping the icing remnants off my plate with my fork.
“Thanks,” she murmured. She didn’t say more. She wouldn’t even look at me. I’d never felt like a bigger heel in my entire life.
“You want more coffee?” I asked, standing up.
“I’m fine.”
“Kat?”
“I said I’m fine!” she said, slamming her palms on the table. Josie came running out of the bedroom, watching us with cautious eyes.
Kat’s anger was infectious and reached me in a place I’d forgotten existed. I stood behind her and leaned over, resting my hands on the table, blocking her escape. “You are the furthest thing from fine,” I said against her hair, trying my hardest not to yell. Josie let out a soft growl, a reminder of where her alliances stood.
Before I could react, Kat threw her head back and her skull made contact with my nose. Blood immediately started pouring out, a few droplets falling on her ponytail.
“Fuck!” I shouted, rushing to the counter and grabbing handfuls of paper towels. I whirled around and found her standing up, watching me. Her eyes were wide with horror but her hands were clenched in anger. “Why the fuck would you do that?” I asked.
Her voice was loud, coming across more furious than contrite, when she said, “I’m sorry, you asshole!”
I wanted to grab her and kiss her and fuck her senseless, knowing that it was the old me rising to the surface and no longer giving a damn.
In that moment, as I huffed through my mouth and glared at this infuriating woman before me, I decided to just let myself go. I could either fight my past or accept that that’s who I was and just try to become a better man regardless. This was no split-personality situation; I was still West and my sordid history did not dictate my future.
Satisfied that my nose had stopped bleeding, I threw the towels onto the counter and stalked over to where she stood. I pulled her roughly against me and tightened my arms around her back. “Don’t do that again.”
She lifted a hand to my face and just when I thought she was going to strike me, she touched my nose gently with her fingers. “Did I break it?” she asked through stiff lips.
“No. Just a little sore.”
I felt myself harden against her and knew she noticed it too. I dipped my head and nibbled on her earlobe, holding her closer. “Jesus, Kat, you drive me crazy.”
“Is this one of your moves then?”
It took a few seconds for her words to sink in. I lifted my head and found none of my desire reflected in her expression. “Kat…”
“It all makes sense now,” she said, unyielding and stiff in my arms. Her armor was back on, fortified with rage. “Everything you said about falling for me, about me giving you someone to care about—that was all one great big act to get me to bed.”
I stepped back, her words like sharp spines stuck in my skin. I guess that’s what I get for trying to embrace a cactus. “That’s what you really think?”
“Fucking hell, West, I don’t know what to think! You come into my home and start telling me I’m beautiful and, stupid me, I actually started to believe you.” She motioned to her outfit. “I dressed like this for you. I even wore a fucking dress for you. And now you’re telling me that you used to be a slut, that seducing women then throwing them aside is your M.O.”
I noticed the glistening in her eyes but she didn’t blink, didn’t allow the tears to fall. “I’m just trying to be honest with you. Everything I told you before—all of it—was the truth. I’ve never lied to you.” I squared my shoulders. “Don’t take me for a liar when I’ve had nothing but the best intentions this whole time.”
She stood before me, her chest heaving, looking like she wanted to believe me but couldn’t bring herself to become vulnerable again. It hurt to be so ill-regarded. “I’m just another one, West. Just another conquered challenge.”
“If you believe nothing else, just believe that I’ve stayed, that out of all the women I’ve been with, I chose to stay with you.”
“Wow, don’t I feel special,” she said with a roll of her eyes. “You went through hundreds of women before deciding to stay with me.” She started to walk away.
“Kat—”
She whirled around and stopped me with a raised hand. “No, West! Whatever you say right now won’t make a difference. The fact is that you’re an asshole who wasn’t very good at keeping your dick in your pants, and I’m just another woman who fell for the handsome face and the pretty words.” She laughed, a humorless, hollow sound. She went to my room and came back out with my socks and boots.
She threw my things on the floor then planted her hands on her hips. “You came, you saw, you conquered. Now get the hell out.”
17
KAT
What the hell just happened?
One minute I was deliriously happy, baking cinnamon rolls—and I only make those on truly special occasions, which meant I hadn’t made them in years—and the next, I was finding out that I was just another name in a long list of conquests.
It hurt like a motherfucker. My chest felt tight and my head was pounding from trying to wrap my mind around his new revelation. West was a womanizer. Of course I fell for the act in the space of a few days. I wanted to kick myself for being such a dumbass.
But a part of me wanted to believe him when he said he cared about me. I didn’t want to be wrong about the sincerity of his kisses and his touch. He had listened and gotten to know me before anything else. That had to count for something, right?
Memories of people pointing and laughing behind my back echoed in the recesses of my mind, reminding me of the humiliation I’d suffered and run away from many years ago. But this—this burning ache in my chest had happened once before, when Kyle had invited me to prom. He had pretended to understand me, pretended that he actually cared about me, when in reality it had all been an act. All he’d wanted was to prove to his friends that he could tame the shrew and get her on her knees.
I hoped to hell he still had my teeth marks on his dick.
“You need to get your ass out of here before I really break your nose.”
West didn’t move to get his stuff. Instead he kept his bare feet planted on the linoleum floor, his arms folded across his chest. “I’m not leaving.”
“Excuse me?”
He lifted his chin. “You’re going to have to get a bulldozer if you want me out of here.”
I stalked over to him and pushed against his stomach. West remained unmoved, standing tall like a fucking statue.
I think I might have even spied a tiny lift to the edges of his mouth.
“I thought you were stronger than that?” he said with a raised eyebrow.
“Get out of here!” I pushed again, bending my knees and digging the balls of my feet into the floor to get some leverage. I knew I was getting somewhere when I felt him lean his weight against my shoulder to not topple backwards. The harder I pushed, the heavier he became.
So I dove to the side and allowed him to fall forward.
He stumbled to one knee but quickly recovered, spinning around to grab me around the waist. I struggled against him, clawing at his arms and kicking my feet. I jabbed with my elbow and felt him flinch.
Before I could react, he flipped me over and I found myself on the floor, staring up into his face. His hands were like manacles on my wrists and his large body held me down, his legs clamped around my own to keep me from kicking. I struggled for a few seconds but gave up the fight. I admit: I let myself become trapped because deep down, I was still hoping to be proven wrong. I was still holding onto the hope that my West would never betray me.
He was breathing hard as he stared down at me with his eyebrows drawn together.
“I told you to leave.”
He shook his head. “No, Kat. I’m staying right here until you believe me.”
“Believe what? That you’re a—”
His mouth descended upon mine, his tongue pushing its way inside. I opened up to him and kissed back, lifting my head up off the floor to get more of him.
When we were almost out of breath, he pulled away. “I love you,” he said between breaths.
I blinked up at him. “Get off me.”
With a flare of his nostrils, he rolled off me and onto his back, folding an arm over his eyes.