by Sarah Bailey
“Yeah… I do. She’s my favourite author.”
I had a feeling that was the case. And I wanted a reason to see him again. Desperately. Somehow, I knew Rhys was the right person for this anyway. I remembered his skill from when we were younger and I could only imagine how much he’d improved since.
“Then I’ll sign off on it.”
“You don’t want to see what I can do first?”
I shook my head.
“I remember.”
He stared at me for a long moment as if trying to work out what my game was. I hoped he did. Nothing in this world would make me happier than to have him back in my life. Wishing for that would be futile nor did I deserve it, but it wouldn’t stop me wanting it. Needing it. Needing him. The reality was… I’d always needed Rhys King. That would never change.
“Well, thank you… I guess. Um, I need to…”
He pointed towards the direction of the lifts and I just nodded. Then I watched him walk away from me, my heart singing with each step even though it meant he was leaving. But he’d be back. I’d make sure of it. Any damn excuse I got to ask him to come into the office, I’d take it. I shouldn’t because I’d hurt him so much.
The heart wanted what it wanted.
My heart had always been his. It belonged to him. And I’d do whatever it took to make up for the past because I was fucking damned if I was going to lose him all over again.
I hope you remember when I said forever, Rhys, I meant it.
Chapter Fifty One
I kept it together all the way back to my flat. Kept a lid on the emotions swirling around inside me. I was not about to let myself break down in front of other people on the tube. I’d already suffered enough today as it was so further embarrassment was not on the cards. Only when I unlocked the front door, walked into my living room and sunk down on my sofa did I allow myself to feel it. Everything I’d held back the moment I saw him.
“Fuck!”
I dropped my head into my hands. A confusing mess of anger, desire and everything in between coursed through me. The delicate stitches holding me together burst at the seams, allowing it all to bleed out. Every last piece of me shattered.
“God fucking damn it. Fuck. I hate you. I hate you so fucking much.”
It wasn’t as if I could say it to his face. We were going to be working together. I had to remain professional, but by fuck did I want to rage and scream at him. I wanted to hurt him. I wanted him to understand he couldn’t just walk back into my life and expect me to be friendly. I wanted him to suffer as much as I had over the past seven years. Worst of all, I wanted to pin him down, tear his clothes off and fuck him for all I was worth. And I had the distinct impression he’d let me. My skin crawled from the knowledge and the way he’d looked at me. As if he still cared. As if he wanted me. As if he still fucking well loved me.
Why did it feel so damn good?
I not only hated him for making me feel anything for him, but I also hated myself for it. Why was I such a mess over that fucking man? Hadn’t he done enough to me already? Hadn’t I been tortured by this shit for too long?
My phone started ringing in my pocket. I threw my bag away, tugged off my jacket and pulled it out, checking the caller ID. I had no interest in having a conversation with anyone right now.
Meredith.
The thought of telling her what happened made me sick so I dumped my phone next to me and allowed it to ring out. Better she thought I was busy. Busy falling into the abyss of fucked up shit seeing the only person I’d ever loved had sucked me into. I really fucking hoped she didn’t try again. And I didn’t want her turning up here either. No one could see me like this. Not even my best friend.
Why does he have to be Emily’s editor? Why did I say I wanted the fucking job?
The obvious answers to those questions made me want to smash something.
Because the world hates you. And you said yes because you want to work with Emily so badly, you don’t care that you have to deal with him.
I did care. I cared a great fucking deal.
My mind kept fixating on the way he looked at me. Those damn blue-grey eyes having the ability to steal my breath at every turn. The beautiful boy who’d grown into a man. And how he was everything and more to me.
“Fuck you, Aaron. Fuck you,” I shouted at the air in front of me.
I got up and stalked into my kitchen, ripping open the alcohol cupboard and grabbing a bottle of tequila. As much as I hated the stuff, I had to take the edge off somehow. Not bothering to find a glass, I unscrewed the cap and swigged directly from the bottle, almost choking on the liquid burning its way down my throat.
I slammed it down on the counter and put my hands either side of it, panting. It hadn’t taken the edge off at all. If anything, it made it so much worse. My defences were down. He’d torn apart my walls and forced me to see the truth.
Memories flooded my vision. The way Aaron smiled when I called him, prince. Us running along the promenade on Brighton beach, laughing and chasing each other. The first time he’d kissed me during that freak storm. The first time I realised I loved him more than life itself. The day I’d told him. The first time he told me he loved me. The growl of his voice when he had me pinned down on the bed whilst he fucked me.
That one played over and over on repeat, flooding me with unwanted arousal. My breathing became heavy and my body wanted everything he had to offer.
This cannot be happening.
Except it was. Just because I hadn’t been with anyone in the intervening seven years, didn’t mean those urges went away. They’d come back in full force, knocking the wind out of me.
I wanted Aaron with a desperation it bordered on madness.
So much madness it had me stumbling out of my kitchen and finding myself in my bathroom the next minute. I tugged on my zipper, groaning in anticipation until I freed my cock and wrap my hand around it.
“I hate you, Aaron. I fucking hate you.”
His name sliced into my heart, making me angrier and hornier than ever. I hated myself for stroking one out to him, but I couldn’t help it. Nothing could stop the one-way train I’d inadvertently jumped on.
My laboured breath was harsh to my ears. Self-loathing filled me as I stood there over my sink thinking about my ex and how much I hated and loved him at the same time. How much I wanted his hands all over me and mine on him. My mouth watered at the thought of being on my knees for him. The rough way he always handled me.
“Fuck,” I whimpered, coming violently as waves of horrific bliss washed over me.
I gripped the sink with one hand, staring at myself in the bathroom mirror. Hating my flushed face and the wild look in my eyes.
“What is wrong with you?”
Everything was, clearly. I’d lost the plot and it was all because of him. His stupid damn blonde-hair, blue-grey eyes and mouth-wateringly hot body.
I washed away the evidence in the sink and cleaned up, despising every sickening moment. The proof I was still insanely crazy over Aaron.
You know why that is. You’ve always known. Nothing he did all those years ago changed that fact.
Yeah, I fucking well did and it sucked. It sucked so fucking much. I guess I would have to live in hell for the rest of my life now. The torment of knowing what he meant to me would never end. I didn’t want this. I didn’t need this. He was the very last person I wanted to see again.
Fate was having a huge fucking laugh at my expense.
Aaron Jackson Parrish is my soulmate and I hate him for it.
Chapter Fifty Two
A loud sound blared in my ears. I didn’t like it. It hurt my head. It needed to stop. Right now.
“Go away.”
The sound came again, making me groan in frustration. Why couldn’t it leave me alone? I was happily buried in my covers. Sleep was far nicer than reality right now.
The sound stopped.
Finally.
I pulled the covers higher over my head and drifted off again. At least I tried. My phone started buzzing loudly near my head.
“Fuck.”
I fumbled for it under the pillows where I’d shoved it last night and put it to my ear.
“What?”
“Open your damn door, fuckface.”
“No. Go away.”
I hung up and slapped the phone down next to me. Meredith had been bugging me for days but I didn’t care. Bed was warm and my head felt fuzzy. It wasn’t long before sleep dragged me back under.
The damn phone was ringing yet again. Why couldn’t she leave me alone? I grabbed it, stuffing it against my ear.
“What part of go away did you not get, Mer?”
“Um… Rhys?”
I sat up abruptly, tearing the phone away from my ear and looking down at the caller ID. That was not Meredith. No, that was Johnstone & Parrish. And the voice on the end belonged to none other than Aaron. The sound of it sent chills racing down my spine.
Fuck. Shit. Why is this happening to me?
I held the phone to my ear again, wondering how on earth to explain why I’d answered it like that.
“Hi… um, sorry about that, I didn’t look before I answered.”
Now you sound like a complete fool. Who doesn’t look at their phone first?
“Have I caught you at a bad time?”
I think I could describe the past three days as a bad time. The day after the meeting, the contract was sent over. I duly signed it, hating myself even more for doing so and promptly drowned myself in a bottle of vodka for the rest of the day whilst trying to work on another project due next week. The same happened the next day. Yesterday had been even more day drinking followed by crying into my takeaway pizza like a baby. More crying into a tub of ice cream. And more drinking. I think I passed out after breaking into a bottle of scotch Meredith had got me for my birthday.
“No, no, now is fine.”
It is not fine. Why are you lying to him?
I was hanging like a bitch, my mouth felt dirty and I hadn’t showered in three days.
“Are you sure? I can call back later.”
I hauled myself out of bed, inwardly cursing my pounding head and padded out into the kitchen. Tucking my phone into my shoulder, I grabbed a glass and filled it with water.
“I’m good to talk… what can I do for you?”
I downed the glass, knowing I needed several more, tea and a bacon sandwich to cure the overwhelming hangover I was currently sporting.
“Okay, well, I just wanted to let you know the contract is all sorted and Diana will send you the full brief as well in a few weeks once we’ve finalised everything with Emily.”
I blinked. He could’ve told me that in an email. Maybe it was the fact I felt like shit so my walls were down and I couldn’t seem to find my filter. I had to have some explanation for why the next words I spoke came out of my mouth.
“Is this really a business call, Aaron?”
I swear I could almost hear him fidgeting.
“No.”
“Then what do you want?”
“Have dinner with me.”
I almost hung up the phone. Doing that would be childish. I had to be an adult about this. Especially since I was now technically working with him.
“Why would I do that?”
“We need to talk… and… I want to see you.”
I gripped the counter for support so my knees wouldn’t give out. My heart went full-on batshit crazy. The sound echoed in my ears over and over.
He wants to see me? What does that even mean?
Considering I’d spent three days drinking myself into oblivion over him, I wasn’t sure seeing him outside of a professional capacity would be a smart move.
“I don’t see how there’s anything to talk about.”
“Okay, let me put it another way. I know I don’t deserve it, but I’m asking you to give me a chance… please. It’s just dinner and a conversation. That’s it.”
He was deluded if he thought it would be just dinner and a conversation. I knew better. Hell, the temptation for more would be staring me right in the face. Part of the reason I kept drinking so much had everything to do with not wanting a repeat of the day of the meeting. I refused to have sexual thoughts about him. They messed me up too much.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea. I’d prefer to stick to this being about business.”
“I know you’re probably still angry with me, but—”
“Angry? I don’t think that’s the right word for how I feel about you.”
Don’t say it. Don’t you dare have a go at him down the phone during working hours.
Apparently, my mouth didn’t get the memo.
“Angry doesn’t cut it. Not by a long shot. I hate you. You ruined my life. I had to live with a cloud of suspicion over my head for the entire last year at school. Everyone thought I was a fucking murderer thanks to you. So don’t you tell me to give you a fucking chance. We were done seven years ago and we’re done now. Nothing you say or do will change that.”
I put a hand over my face, unable to believe those words had left my mouth. The resentment I harboured towards him had clearly got the better of me. And his silence spoke volumes.
“I shouldn’t have said that.”
I wasn’t going to apologise as I meant every word but it was highly unprofessional.
“I’m pretty sure I deserved it,” he murmured.
“I’m not saying sorry for it.”
“The only one who should be sorry is me… and I am. Not that it’ll mean anything to you probably, but I really am sorry, Rhys. I don’t think you’ll ever know how much.”
I had a pretty good idea. Aaron wasn’t a dick even if he’d behaved like one that day. When he came to say goodbye, he should’ve said his piece then left me. But no. He had to kiss me and touch me, making it ten times worse when he did eventually walk away.
“Sorry won’t change what you did.”
“I know.”
“I don’t want to see you.”
“I get that.”
“I want to hurt you.”
“Then hurt me.”
His voice came out all quiet and breathy. The sound made my insides tighten.
“You want me to?”
“I want you to do whatever it is you need so you’ll let me talk to you.”
This is what I’d meant by temptation. His voice dripped with the insinuation he’d let me take out my anger on him… sexually.
Had he been with another man since we broke up? I couldn’t imagine why not. Aaron had always been incredibly charismatic and charming. He could have anyone he wanted. And I did not like the irrational stab of jealousy filling my bones at the thought of someone else having touched him. Tasted him. Loved him.
He’s mine.
Where the fuck had that come from? I needed to get a grip and end this conversation before it got out of hand. Let’s face it. It already had. And I was about to make it so much worse.
“Come over tonight at ten. There’ll be no dinner, talking or asking questions. If you want to see me, this is your one and only chance. I’ll email you the address.”
“Okay.”
Absolutely zero hesitation on his part.
“I’ll see you later.”
“See you tonight.”
I hung up and placed the phone on the counter. Then my knees gave out. I sat with my back to the cabinet after I slid to the floor, banging my head against it.
What did I just do?
Why the hell did I tell him to come over?
I have actually fully lost the plot.
I couldn’t take it back. This almost felt inevitable after we’d seen each other.
Shit, I need to go out and get supplies.
What the hell was I even saying? I wasn’t going to actually go through with this, was I?
Yes, yo
u are. You’re going to fuck him out of your system so you can move on.
The rational part of me knew this was a mistake and that moving on from Aaron would be impossible. He was drowned out by irrationally horny Rhys who had apparently decided on the course of action called fuck the consequences.
There was only one way this would end.
And that was badly.
Chapter Fifty Three
Did I think going around his and letting him do whatever he wanted to me was a terrible idea? Well, yes. But this was Rhys King. I didn’t care what I had to do to have him back in my life, including allowing him to take out all of his anger and frustration on me.
I wasn’t sure I was prepared for what he’d do. The way he’d spoken to me earlier put me on edge. Yes, I completely deserved what he’d thrown at me. I probably shouldn’t have called him and asked him to go to dinner with me. It’d been stupid, but I’d spent the past three days going back and forth with myself over it. Then I’d snapped. I had to speak to him. Had to hear his voice. Had to know how angry he was and whether he still had feelings for me. The fact he’d said he wanted to hurt me made it clear he did.
He would make me work hard to earn his forgiveness. And I would fucking well do it. I didn’t care what he threw at me or how long it took. Speaking to him earlier only made me more determined. I loved him. I’d loved him for seventeen years. He was the sole reason my heart still beat in my chest. It would take everything I had to prove to him how much. To show him I still belonged to him just as he’d always belonged to me.
I’d tried, albeit unsuccessfully, to flush him out of my system. The dates I’d gone on over the past seven years only led me to one conclusion. Rhys was it for me. And how I’d come to that realisation? Talking to guys was all fine and good, but the moment they initiated anything remotely physical, I recoiled from it. I’d once tripped over my own front door mat in an effort to get away from a guy who tried to kiss me. All of it felt like a huge fucking betrayal of my relationship with the boy from my childhood. So I’d given up.
