Lies Unspoken

by Lisa De Jong

  “What about Pierce?”

  “I was never going to be able to give my whole heart to him. Blake’s hold on it is too strong, and he wasn’t ever going to let it go.”

  “I hope this works for both of you. I really do,” she says, her voice fading away.

  “There’s no other option for me.” I pause, staring out my window as the train comes to a stop in my neighborhood. “You sound tired. Why don’t you get some sleep, and I’ll give you a call in a couple days to give you an update. In the meantime, don’t worry. If we both try, even just a little bit—everything will be okay.”

  “Okay, I’m not going to worry about it, but you better call if you need anything. I mean it.”

  “You’re almost as bossy as your brother.”

  She laughs. “That’s not possible, and you know it.”

  “Okay, you’re right. My train just stopped so I’m going to let you go.”

  “I’m about to drift off anyway.”

  “Night, Mallory.”

  “Good luck.”

  THE WALK TO MY APARTMENT doesn’t take long, and when I stand in front of my door realizing it’s locked, my heart sinks into my stomach. He said he’d be here when I got home.

  I dig my key from my purse, unlocking the door quickly. The scene before me takes my breath away. Candles line the kitchen counter and the center of the kitchen table. Rose petals create a path from the doorway to my bedroom. I follow the path of white petals all the way to my bathroom where I hear water running. Blake sits on the edge of the claw foot tub, his fingers testing the water.

  A few steps, and I’m standing in front of him, my fingers brushing through his hair. “What’s all this for?”

  His chin rests against my chest, his deep eyes staring up at me. “Just proving to you that you made the right choice.”

  “I didn’t know you were such a romantic.”

  “I’m not. This is just something a guy should do when he has some making up to do.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Why don’t you get in? I’m going to cook you dinner.”

  Those three words we have yet to say want to slip from my lips, but I hold them back. He’s not ready to hear them.

  Bending down, I kiss his lips before he has a chance to walk away. When he’s gone, I quickly undress and slip into the water, soaking in the smell of lavender while being covered in rose petals. The only thing that would make this better is a glass of wine.

  I sink in further until the water covers my shoulders. The door creaks open, and Blake walks in with a glass of red. Maybe our souls are so connected he can read my mind. “How did you know I wanted this?”

  He shrugs. “I know you well enough, I guess. Dinner will be done in about fifteen minutes.”

  “Are you sure you don’t want to climb in here with me?”

  “It’s tempting, but our dinner would burn, and I need you to eat so you have energy for what I have planned for you.”

  I rub my legs together at the thought. Blake is no angel; his plans don’t involve dinner and a movie. It’s perfectly okay with me because I want it just as much as he does.

  Before he walks back out, he leans over me, tenderly kissing my forehead. “Just put your robe on,” he says. “You won’t be wearing it long.”

  It’s like the first time. He’s a different person. I’m not the woman he first walked in on in this apartment all those months ago. I let my skin soak in the relaxing water for a few more minutes, enjoying the rest of my wine before stepping into my robe.

  The kitchen smells amazing—a hint of sautéed peppers and garlic fills the air. “What did you make? It smells delicious.”

  He startles, spinning to face me with a spatula in one hand. “A chicken pasta dish. I didn’t follow a recipe, but my taste buds are impressed.”

  I grin, taking a seat at the candle-lit table. I have no idea where this Blake came from, but I like him.

  “Would you like another glass of wine?” he asks, setting two plates of pasta on the table.

  “I should probably eat something before I have any more of that. I’d hate to fall asleep on you.”

  “You’re always welcome to fall asleep on me,” he says as he takes the seat across from me.

  “You didn’t have to do all this.”

  He shrugs. “I wanted to.”

  My taste buds do a happy dance after I take my first bite. I don’t think I cooked an actual meal the whole time he was gone. I either ate snacks here and there or take-out. “Where did you learn to cook?”

  He stops chewing, looking straight into my eyes. “I was married once.”

  Honesty … I like that.

  “Did you do all the cooking?”

  “Most of the time, if I wanted to eat, I had to,” he says sadly, picking his fork back up.

  “I can cook,” I offer. I don’t, but I can. I am a small town Mid-western girl after all.

  “Does it always come in a Styrofoam container?” he asks, doing his best not to laugh.

  “For a minute, I was thinking that a few months away made you nicer.”

  “Somewhere under the asshole is a layer of nice. It’s hard to get to, but it’s possible … especially for you.”

  I’ll keep peeling those layers away then.

  We eat in silence mostly, stealing glances across the table from time to time. When his eyes catch mine, he does this little thing with his lips where one side curls up. It takes every ounce of strength I have to not go over and kiss him; I know where that would lead.

  My plate is almost clear when I push it away. As good as it was, my stomach can’t hold anymore. “Done?” Blake asks, reaching across the table for my plate.

  “I can’t eat anymore.”

  He clears the table, rinsing the plates in the sink. I can only stare. Perfection comes in faded blue jeans and a fitted white t-shirt.

  “Did you save room for dessert?” he asks, coming around the counter.

  I shake my head. There’s no way in hell anything else is going to fit in this belly.

  “I think you did.” His voice is lower. I feel him everywhere, and he isn’t even touching me.

  He shifts my chair, so I’m facing him, and kneels in front of me. Closing my eyes, I wait for what he does next. I trust him wholeheartedly with my desires … he’s never let me down there. His fingers work the tie on my robe. Once it’s loose, he pulls the sides back, completely exposing me.

  The old memories flood back.

  The way he touched every inch of my body.

  The way he slowly made his way into my heart.

  “You define sexy,” he says softly, circling his palms against my nipples. I hold his head in my hands, allowing his mouth to worship my breasts. He’s the master. I’m the puppet. There’s not much he couldn’t get me to do.

  I ache for him … not having him inside me is misery. Lowering my hands to the back of his shirt, I attempt to pull it over his head. He grips my arms, putting them back at my side. “I control this tonight. I want to make you feel like you’ve never felt before … to erase every memory of him.”

  His lips appreciate the skin around my belly button before slipping down further. He’s so close to where I’ve craved his touch. So close. Before the craving is satisfied, his cheek comes to rest on my thigh, his sapphire eyes finding mine. “I want to do even better than erase. I want to remind you why I’m the best you ever had even if you can’t forget him.”

  I realized that when he kissed me last night. What he’s going to make my body feel tonight will just etch it in stone.

  He drags his lower lip between the inside of my thigh. His calloused hands grip my knees, spreading my legs to give him better access. He kisses my core then pulls back to look at me.

  Standing, he holds his hand out. “Up.”

  There’s this glimmer in his eyes—bright and playful. He’s enjoying the slow burn. Maybe I’ll come to appreciate it, too, but right now, I just want him to dull the ache—relieve the pressure I
feel.

  When I’m on my feet, he turns me until my back is flush with his body, hugging me around the waist as he walks us to his bedroom. He buries his nose in my hair. “You smell exactly like I remember. You don’t know how hard I tried to forget, but I can’t forget the unforgettable.”

  The door opens to more candles and rose petals. I have to look back just to verify this is really my Blake. “Just because I’ve never done this before doesn’t mean I don’t know how,” he says, kissing my cheek.

  “I can’t believe you did all this for me.”

  His palms trail back up over my breasts circling once then settling on my shoulders. With each caress he ignites something in me. Then, he’s standing in front of me, not touching, just exploring with his eyes. I wouldn’t have been okay with this before Blake—being unclothed while someone examines every inch of me.

  He peels his shirt off then unfastens his jeans, stripping himself bare in front of me. His skin doesn’t graze mine, but yet I sense him everywhere.

  “Does it hurt when I’m not touching you?” he asks, his voice shows heartbreaking emotion.

  “Yes,” I breathe.

  “Where?”

  Reaching for his hand, I place it at the center of my chest. That’s where it aches the most.

  “Where do you want me first, Lemon Drop?”

  “Kiss me.”

  His lips mark mine slowly, his forehead pressing to mine. “Now it’s my turn,” he says, lifting me in his arms. I bury my face in the crook of his neck, letting the journey take me.

  My back falls on the bed of rose petals. Blake stretches out over me, propping his head up with his elbow. “I hope you weren’t planning on sleeping tonight.”

  This is worth twelve cups of coffee in the morning, I think to myself.

  His touch is agile at first—subtle kisses, soft caresses, and appreciative glances. My love for him only amplifies, but the words still remain unsaid.

  I want him to ravish me.

  I want him to push me to the edge.

  I want his rebellious love.

  Minutes pass, or maybe hours. I’m gasping for air when he finally pulls his mouth away.

  I feel him at my entrance, lifting my hips to beg for more … to beg for everything he can give me. I accept him slowly, enjoying the fullness as he goes deeper.

  “You feel so fucking good wrapped around me. This was made for me … only me,” he groans, reaching his fingers between my legs. His fingertips circle my skin, and with all the teasing he’s already put my body through, I’m only seconds away from pulsing around him.

  Then he pulls his hand away, punishing me once more. “Blake, I need to come. Please.”

  He presses his hips to mine, slowly rocking back and forth. The friction he creates is perfection. The tension builds as he works his way in and out. I moan, digging my nails into his back. His pace quickens as he burrows even deeper. He’s carnal, biting down on my collarbone as the first wave of fireworks sweep through my body.

  It’s ecstasy.

  A bolt of lightning.

  The pinnacle.

  “That’s my girl,” he whispers against my lips. “If I died now, I’d die knowing you were the best part of my life.”

  I shake my head. “Don’t talk like that.”

  He continues to sink into me, over and over. “You were the first to believe in me. I’ll spend my life showing you how much that means to me … worshipping you.”

  He penetrates deeper.

  I scream.

  He sits back on his knees, not breaking rhythm. “On your hands and knees.”

  With the little energy I have left, I comply. He holds my hips, pounding in then slowly pulling back out. In. Out. Deeper. Harder. I’ve never experienced sex like this before. Love, lust and affection … it’s all there.

  He fists my hair, wrapping it around his hand. The sensation sends shockwaves between my legs. It’s not long before my body is squeezing around his again. This time, he follows my lead, pulsing inside me as his fingers dig into my hips.

  “So good. So fucking good,” he moans, a faint comparison to the screams I can’t control.

  I fall onto my stomach, my knees too weak to hold me up. His body covers mine. Our heavy breaths mix, saying everything we can’t. Sweat drenches our skin, gluing us together. Even with the exhaustion, I’d do it all over again. It’s worth it. He’s worth it.

  “How was that?” he asks, kissing the center of my back.

  “I loved every second of it,” I say honestly. I can’t say those three words, but I can hint at them. “I don’t know if it beats lemon drops and paint, though.”

  “I need to be your only one.”

  “You are,” I promise, finding his hand beside me to kiss his knuckles.

  He slips out of me, lying at my side. He’s the only person I look at and see sorrow and satisfaction at the same time.

  “But he’s still in your heart. The heart doesn’t forget so easily; I know that much.”

  “Our hearts weren’t made to hold one person. They were made to love many with a special place for the one we love the most.”

  Silence falls between us. The L word seems to do that. “I can’t say it,” he finally admits. “The night I left—when I said it—I mean it, but I’ve only spoken those words to one other person and she’s gone now. I don’t want to lose you too.”

  “Love isn’t a curse.”

  “It’s a superstition.”

  I run my fingers along his spine as my eyes fill with tears I refuse to shed. Sadness overtakes me because of everything this man has gone through. Anger spills over because that everything may keep us from being us. I want to heal him until he believes in happiness again … until love isn’t a curse or superstition.

  “She didn’t do what she did because she thought you didn’t love her enough. Sometimes, our demons are too powerful. They speak louder than the deepest of loves can cure. There wasn’t anything you could have done to defeat them.”

  He smiles sadly. “My therapist tells me that all the time, but you have a better way of saying it.”

  “What’s it going to take before you believe it?”

  “Time.”

  I press my lips to his. I can deal with that as long as time doesn’t turn into forever. Our future depends on it.

  He combs his fingers through my hair, letting it fall back on his sheets. My eyelids are heavy, slowly drifting shut.

  “You’re special,” he whispers. “You’re the first one who’s made me want to try. For the first time in years, I’m thinking of what I have instead of what’s already gone.”

  Those are the words I fall asleep to.

  THINGS ARE GOOD FOR THE next week. We fall into this pattern. I work. He cooks. We make love. The last part differs; he’s had me against the wall before dinner, on the counter after, the shower, the couch, my bed, his. The apartment has been thoroughly christened.

  Today is the start of a new week. Pierce is back in town, and I only have a couple weeks left before the new mood board is due to Wade.

  Last week was a game of pretend, but this is reality.

  Taking a deep breath, I step off the elevator, smoothing my blouse to make sure it’s still tucked in. This is one of those days I hope Reece is at my desk waiting for me so Pierce has reason not to be.

  A pit forms in my stomach when she’s not. I set my stuff down and begin putting the final touches on my board. Seeing his apartment when we were in New York gave me a better idea of what he would favor if he booked a penthouse suite; they always say you should please your audience.

  “Wow. That looks great.”

  I glance up from my desk to see Reece, staring down at me wearing a white blouse with black printed skunks. I’ve really seen it all now. “My fingers are going to bleed I’ve been coloring so much.”

  She lifts a brow. “You know they have computer programs for that these days.”

  “That’s no fun.”

  “I saw Pierce this
morning. The coffee pot was empty, so he took the whole damn thing and threw it in the trash. A perfectly good coffee pot.”

  Grabbing a pencil off my desk, I focus back on my drawing. “Doesn’t Jane get his coffee?” I didn’t even think he knew where the break room was.

  “I have no idea, but she was in the file room crying this morning.”

  Her words crush my conscience. Pierce is as even tempered as they come. He keeps control by showing all of us that forward is the only way to go. That keeping our emotion out of our work is the only way to succeed. You can’t dwell over failures, or hold onto wins.

  “Maybe you should go check on him,” she says when I don’t ask any more.

  I throw the pencil down. “I can’t, Reece. Am I the reason for his bad mood? Probably. Is it going to get any better if I go waltzing into his office? Probably not.”

  “You’re stubborn.”

  Glaring up at her, I say, “I’m sane.”

  “Do you have lunch plans today?” she asks, ignoring the fact that I’m annoyed.

  “Blake is going to be in the area, so he’s taking me out.”

  Her mouth forms an “O”. “So,” she drags the word out like it actually means something. “The first day your ex comes back to the office, your current squeeze is coming to take you to lunch. Not so much of a coincidence if you ask me.”

  “It is a coincidence.”

  She turns to walk away. “Whatever you say. By the way, when you get a minute, come find me. I want to show you someone in IT.”

  I shake my head. I can’t imagine what her latest prospect looks like.

  Focusing on my drawing, I try to finish the last bits and pieces. A dark cloud blocks my creativity because all I can think about is Pierce. What’s going through his head after we spent several days apart? I want to think it’s a failed business deal that put him in this mood, but I know better than that.

  In the span of an hour, I shade in one tiny section only to erase it. I stare at it, but my focus is elsewhere.

  After two hours of nothing, I pick the board up from my desk and head down the hallway. Jane isn’t at her desk, so I keep walking, taking my chances that Pierce isn’t in a meeting or on a call.