Last Kiss

by Laurelin Paige

  His discomfort bothered me, but I didn’t move. While I believed that my proximity to the edge caused him anxiety, I didn’t necessarily believe that his telling me so was without ulterior motive. Like, mostly he wanted to be sure I knew he still cared. It might not have counted as making an advance, but it had the same effect on my psyche. It pulled at me, made my heart pinch, made me consider possibilities I’d already put to bed. I’d accepted that I wouldn’t stop caring about him anytime soon. But it would be so much easier if he’d stop caring about me. Or, at least, if he let me believe he’d stopped.

  I was bitter. I wanted him to be bitter with me. Curiosity and the urge to bicker prompted my next question. “Was Missy killed because she knew your family was mob?”

  “No. A lot of my girlfriends knew my family had mob ties. That wasn’t unusual. Move away from the ledge, Emily.”

  I paid no attention to his request or to the fluttering in my belly that accompanied his worry. “But were all your girlfriends talking to Interpol about it?” It was the first I’d asked him about Interpol. I’d forgotten about that detail when he’d told me his family story on the plane.

  His brow pinched in surprise. “Where did you hear —?” Understanding dawned across his features. “Chris Blakely?”

  “Does it matter?” It had been Chris. He’d told me he’d overheard Missy and Reeve arguing on the night of her death. She’d mentioned Interpol, and Chris had speculated that she’d been killed to keep her from testifying against Reeve and his Mafia relatives.

  But I didn’t want to think about Chris. I definitely didn’t want to imagine that was the information that very likely had gotten him killed. I did, however, want to know. “Could you just answer the question?”

  “No. Missy wasn’t talking to Interpol. I was.”

  I didn’t bother to hide my surprise. “But why?”

  “Do you want to sit and talk about this? Preferably over there.” He nodded to the seating area. “A safe distance away from the railing.”

  “We should go back up to the garden where we can be seen so you aren’t tempted to touch me.” I’d thought I’d made the comment so that I could feel like the change in our locale was my choice and not because it was what he wanted. But maybe I really just wanted to provoke him into saying something that proved he actually did still want to touch me.

  “Ah, Blue Eyes,” he said with a wicked smile and an equally wicked gleam in his eye. “Lets you and I not pretend that an audience would ever be a deterrent for me touching you.”

  Yeah, something like that.

  “Fine.” With a sigh, I pushed away from the railing, feigning to concede reluctantly when, in truth, I would have done anything he wanted after a line like that. “At least button up your shirt.”

  I crossed with him to the stone bench and let him sit first. Then I sat in a spot that was more than a respectable distance from him.

  As if a few feet of space between us was any better a deterrent than an audience.

  “Okay. Talk.” I crossed a leg over the other, trying to ignore the fact that he hadn’t done up a single damn one of his buttons.

  He gave me a tight look that suggested he didn’t like being given orders. But then he began. “The week I was out here with Missy – the week she died – Michelis and a few of my cousins came out as well. He’d been pressuring me more and more, and I’d, foolishly, thought that we could all come down here, have a good time, and put an end to our disagreements. Instead, that was when he began talking about taking one of Missy’s friends.

  “I didn’t tell Missy that,” he clarified. “She was too doped up, and I didn’t want to scare her. But I knew I had to deal with my uncle’s business once and for all. I told you before that you can’t leave the mob.”

  “Right. And yet you left.” Did his olive skin shine like that in the sun naturally? Like it was slick with oil. Or sweat.

  “I didn’t leave fairly, though.” He seemed simultaneously proud and ashamed of the fact. “A team from Interpol had contacted me before that, asking a bunch of questions about the Vilanakis family and what I knew about them. I’d blown them off. But I’d started collecting proof of illegal dealings. In case I needed it. That week here, I decided I needed it.”

  “So you told him to leave or you’d go to Interpol?”

  “Basically.”

  A few more pieces clicked into place. “And that’s why he says you betrayed him.”

  “I would presume so. Yes.”

  I couldn’t imagine the amount of proof Reeve must have had to feel confident making such a threat. “Why isn’t he afraid that you’ll still turn him in now?”

  “He’s found my weak spot.” When I raised a questioning brow, he explained. “I didn’t have people I cared about then like I do now.”

  I took in a shaky breath. He means Amber.

  But I wasn’t an idiot. I knew he also meant me.

  “Anyway.” I forced myself to focus on something other than the possessive way he was staring at me. “How did Missy get involved?”

  He smirked, suggesting he knew how he got to me, then launched back into his tale. “She overheard part of the conversation. She already knew that my family was mixed up in illegal activity, but she didn’t understand the extent. When she realized I’d kicked them out of my life, she thought it was an extreme tactic to cut off her drug supply. She was mad. She couldn’t believe I’d go to Interpol.”

  “You fought. Chris heard part of it.”

  “I’m sure everyone heard parts of it.” Hence why half the world was convinced he’d killed Missy even though he’d never had charges brought against him. “I was angry that she didn’t support me. Granted, I didn’t give her all the information. I didn’t feel I should have to.”

  Apparently lack of disclosure had always been a problem in his relationships. But he was sharing with me now. And I knew in my gut these were not things he’d shared with anyone else. With Amber.

  The realization made it hard not to love him a little bit more.

  I rebelled against the urge. “And that’s how you ended up on the beach fucking two other girls while she was… up here.” It was snotty and unfair and cruel and the only defense I had against falling completely at his feet.

  “Thank you for the recap.” His voice was even, but his eyes showed the sting. “In case I’d forgotten.”

  “Right. Exactly. In case you’d forgotten.” I folded my arms across my chest wishing there were a more substantial barrier between us. Wishing there were no barriers between us at all.

  He twisted toward me, and I could see him warring with himself. Shaking his head, he seemed to decide it wasn’t worth it. He stood, looking as though he would leave.

  Good. I’d pissed him off. That was… good.

  Abruptly, he turned back. “As if the way I treated Missy was any worse than the way Amber treated you.”

  I was genuinely shocked. “It was a hell of a lot worse. Amber took care of me.”

  “You think I didn’t take care of Missy?”

  I didn’t think that at all. But I needed to lash out. I needed to be mean and hard. “You weren’t there for her when she needed you most.”

  “Amber wasn’t there when you needed her most either.”

  I shook my head realizing he still believed Amber had ended our friendship because I’d stolen her boyfriend. “That’s not true. I thought it was, but it wasn’t. She knew it was the only way I’d leave her behind and make a better life for myself.”

  “By letting you blame yourself for being raped so violently that you lost your baby?”

  I jumped to my feet to defend her. “She knew what was best for me.”

  “Jesus, Emily, do you hear yourself? Tell me, I’m curious – were you open about this hold she has on you? Did she make you wear a collar?”

  I didn’t need that from him – didn’t need him to challenge our relationship. My role with her was already shifting, and the only way I knew to survive was to cling to the
few truths that I kept sacred.

  “She knew what was best for me,” I said again. “She knew how to keep me safe. And it wasn’t just by imprisoning me.” It was a hit below the belt. He considered keeping Amber locked up at his ranch the worst thing he’d ever done. He’d trusted me when he’d admitted it, and I’d just thrown it back in his face.

  I rightfully deserved the callous expression he gave me in return.

  Callous and chilling.

  He took a careful step toward me, his eyes hard. “What did you say?”

  I wasn’t dumb enough to repeat it. And I was smart enough to run.

  He lunged when I did, catching me immediately. With his hands gripped on my upper arms, I bent my knee up, hitting him in the gut.

  That only enraged him more.

  He spun me outward so that I was facing away from him, twisting my arms behind my back and holding them firmly at my wrists. “You’ve been acting like a royal bitch for far too long, Emily. If you’re going to act like one, it’s time you learned, you’re going to be treated like one.”

  He pushed me forward, toward the railing, and panic rushed over me even though I knew without a doubt in my body that he’d never do anything to seriously hurt me.

  But wasn’t it thrilling to think that he could?

  I struggled with everything I had, knowing that I didn’t have a chance of escape. Knowing and loving.

  “Let me go,” I said as he used his entire body to pin me against the metal railing.

  “No.” He shifted my arms so he was gripping my wrists with just one of his hands.

  I twisted my neck to see why he needed a free hand and found him shrugging out of his shirt. Jesus, he was hot.

  I turned away, afraid my face gave away how aroused I was. Which didn’t mean I wasn’t mad too. Especially now that he’d forced me to the ledge, the same spot that he’d admonished me for being in earlier. Then, when my hands had been free to grip the railing, the view had been exhilarating.

  With him in control, his body position pressing my gaze down, the view was terrifying.

  I jerked my shoulders up suddenly, hoping he’d let go from surprise.

  “Hold still.” He yanked my wrists down so sharply, I cried out.

  “I’ll scream.”

  He laughed. “Go ahead. No one can hear you down here, and screaming is a turn-on. Even more than struggling.”

  And now I was wet.

  “You’re a fucking asshole,” I said, meaning it with every cell in my being.

  He switched his hold on me to his other hand. “Sorry to disappoint, but fucking you in the ass wouldn’t be a good idea today. I’m feeling too spiteful. You wouldn’t be able to walk after and I’m not carrying you up that mountain.”

  “Jesus, you’re unbelievable.”

  “I’m taking that as a compliment.”

  I was sweating now, my heart pounding so hard my chest hurt. Suddenly, he let go of my hands. But before I could think fast enough to figure out what to do with my freedom, he wrapped his shirt around my neck. And pulled. Hard. Choking me.

  He leaned into my ear and rasped. “Beg for my cock when I let you breathe.”

  My hands flew to my throat. I scratched at the material, clawing, using up the air in my chest with my frantic wrestling.

  Of course I couldn’t get free. His hold was too tight, too secure. Seconds passed. Several. Then several more. Black spots dotted my vision by the time he loosened his grip.

  I gasped, desperate to heave air into my lungs. I’d barely gotten in a good breath when he was choking me again.

  “Too slow,” he said with a tsk. “I’ll give you another chance. I hope you’re ready.”

  Once again his grip loosened. I blinked, disoriented and confused and definitely unprepared for whatever it was he wanted me to do. “Uh… uh…” I stuttered.

  Again he pulled the shirt around my neck, tighter than before. So tight, I didn’t even care that I couldn’t breathe because I was sure the pain would kill me before the lack of oxygen.

  “I mean it, goddammit, Emily,” he said, and somehow I understood what he was saying, despite my muddled ability to think. “Tell me you want my cock or I’m walking away right now.”

  I hated him. Hated every terrible wonderful emotion he inspired within me. Hated how completely and perfectly he mastered me. Hated how he could be absolutely brutal and yet still required my consent. Hated how much I could never stop loving him.

  This time when he let me breathe, I forced the words out as I gulped for air. “I want your cock!”

  His shirt disappeared from my neck, and then he was tugging my shorts and panties down my thighs. “What do you want me to do with it?”

  I imagined him undoing the drawstring of his pants and letting them fall silently to his ankles. Imagined that his hands were absent from my body because they were freeing his erection.

  I grabbed the railing, ready for him. Desperate for him. “I want you to fuck me.”

  “I know you do. I always know.” His voice was sweet, soothing, the way a parent calmed a child. He pressed close to me and I could feel the head of his cock rub against my slit. Then at my entrance. Then he was shoving inside, sliding in with no resistance, I was so wet.

  I whimpered as he stretched me and filled me. And when he pounded into me with fierce abandon, the tears that fell down my cheeks were from sweet relief.

  “You feel so good,” Reeve murmured against my ear, making my knees weak. “It’s been so long, and you’re so tight.”

  It had been too long, and every stroke he drove into me felt new and invasive and amazing.

  “Bend over the rail.” He pushed my torso down over the metal, bending me in half. Draping me over the same precipice that his former girlfriend had fallen over.

  It was sick. And wrong. Sick and wrong how that thought didn’t disgust me, didn’t turn me off. Didn’t scare the hell out of me.

  I reached down and grabbed onto the lower bar of the railing – not because I thought I might fall but to stretch me open even wider. To let him in as far as I possibly could.

  “Yeah,” he grunted. “Just like that.” He was deeper than I’d ever felt him, hitting places inside me that I swore had never been touched. He leaned over me and grabbed my ponytail with both hands, pulling my head back. “I wish you could see this, Emily. You’re so beautiful like this. Bent over and open for me. I’m watching my cock fuck your tight cunt, and there’s never been anything sexier.”

  Then he let loose, drilling into me with rapid fire.

  Sensation besieged me.

  The bite of my pulled hair. The railing digging into my waist. The feel of the wind in my face. The dizziness from the height. The smell of the sea. The smell of sweat and sex. The tension fraying in my belly. The crass words spoken behind me. The slap of balls against my thighs. Reeve’s delicious stroke in and out and in and out.

  I had no choice but to surrender. No choice but to give in. No choice but to let go. I was a kite and Reeve held the string, tugging me this way and that until I was soaring on a gentle breeze.

  I cried out as he jerked my hair back sharply, causing electricity to jolt through my body. “Tell me this isn’t what you wanted,” he challenged. “Tell me.”

  “I wanted it,” I gasped, grateful I could give him my assurance. Grateful I could give him myself, if even for just this once. “I wanted you so much.”

  “You did. I know you did.” He let go of my hair, wrapped his arm around my waist, and wrenched me up against him. Pinching my chin, he forced my head back against his shoulder. “You know what this is, Emily?”

  “Mmm?” I couldn’t talk if I wanted to, and I didn’t want to. I wanted to do nothing but feel and relish and savor.

  He pressed his nose to my cheek. “This is me taking care of you. How you need to be taken care of. Whether you want to admit it or not. I know what you need. This is me doing what’s best for you.”

  Men had said similar words to me in the pas
t, usually as some form of justification for having just treated me badly. For abusing me and destroying me in irreparable ways. It was always a lie. Pretty prose to convince me that their sadistic behavior was only for my benefit.

  But this time, when Reeve said it, the words sounded different to my ears. They felt different in my body. They reverberated through my skeleton with truth and recognition and clarity. And even though Reeve had been harsh and savage, and even though his actions fed some primal hunger in his own soul, he was absolutely correct in knowing it was exactly what I needed too.

  With one hand still gripping my chin, he lowered the other toward the strip of hair between my thighs. “You don’t deserve it,” he said, his fingers brushing ever so gently across my clit, “but I’m going to let you come so that you’ll remember that I love you.”

  He pressed his thumb against the bundle of nerves, and I exploded. My entire body convulsed as tears washed my face and colorful bolts of lightning danced across my vision.

  “Ah, that’s it. Good girl,” Reeve murmured against my cheek, coaxing me, cheering me. “Feels so good, doesn’t it?”

  So good that I’d lost perception of what my body was doing. Was I standing or being held? Was my climax starting or ending? Was I dying from ecstasy or was this the process of rebirth?

  Just as I began to get oriented, his thumb returned to my clit. “Again,” he said.

  And there I went again. Lost. Spinning. Flying higher. But with him, this time – he jutted deep into me and stilled, emptying himself inside me and we came together.

  Aftershocks shook through me until long after my breathing had returned to normal. I put myself back together as best as I could, but I was sure that parts of me were broken permanently. Dark parts of me. Parts that I’d held on to for far too long.

  I was so high postorgasm that it took me a minute to realize that Reeve was eerily silent. He was standing at the railing, peering out over the ocean. He’d done up the buttons of his shirt, and while it probably meant nothing, it made him seem closed off. Or maybe he was closed off. And so very distant.