Love Lock (The Love Lock Duet Book 2)

by S. M. West

  His dark blond facial hair is thicker than a day’s growth of stubble, but it’s cut close, shaping his square jaw, and emphasizes, more than ever, his emerald eyes. My girly bits tingle and heat, and I try to quell my excitement at his new look. It suits him, giving him even more of an edge. Sexy.

  “Pip.” He breaks through my naughty thoughts of how his beard would feel, sharp and abrasive, on my face.

  Or thighs.

  Damn, stop it, Pippa.

  Then I realize he’s been talking all this time.

  “’What? Sorry.” I glance down to a duffel and suitcase on either side of him. “Um, how long are you staying?”

  His grin widens and he removes his gloves, rubbing his hands together.

  “Let me see what you’ve gotten since I was last here.”

  It’s our thing. Each time he visits, he’s made me take him around and point out what’s new or different. I’m still settling in, buying things that are functional for my short stay here, but also something I could see in my permanent place, once I find it. Annoyed that he’s avoiding my question, I frown and cross my arms.

  “Answer me first.”

  It feels like I should know what he’s up to, or that I already do, but like something on the tip of my tongue, I just can’t grasp it. But it’s important, I can feel it in my bones.

  “Fine.” He pulls the beanie from his head and his blond hair sticks up in the air in opposing directions. His fingers comb through his unruly locks and he clears his throat. “I’m here for you.”

  “What?” I laugh, unable to stop my eyes from widening, I step back—electrifying apprehension or thrill skates up my spine—and my body hits the door behind me.

  I don’t really know why. We’re together, but the distance makes it like we’re getting to know each other each time we see each other. His bold statement sounds final. Different.

  “Look, I promise to explain it all, but can we go in and get comfortable?” He turns, walking toward the living space. “It smells good. Are you doing your roast chicken?”

  He pats at his flat stomach and I find myself nodding, stupefied, and following.

  “Wow, it looks great.” Drew peruses the small, functional and cozy furniture in my living room.

  It’s a fabulous townhouse and it was empty when I moved in. Last time he was here, all I had was the couch. I would love to stay here permanently, but that isn’t possible, so I only purchased a few things, and made sure they were small because living space isn’t in abundance in New York.

  “I love that.” He nears a small painting hanging on the wall.

  “Me too.” We stand side by side studying my one and only indulgence since coming to the city. “A friend at work invited me to an art exhibition at a cool gallery in SoHo. Imagine that, my first piece of real art.”

  My smile grows the longer I study the bright and dark colors.

  “It’s awesome.” He examines the glazed and textured painting.

  “It’s done by a local artist, Anna Hart. I actually got to meet her after I purchased her painting. She has bigger pieces, but this one spoke to me and besides, it was all I could afford.”

  I flush, still embarrassed by how much I paid for an up-and-coming artist’s tiny painting. He glances at me and I prepare for admonishment but only see appreciation.

  The painting wasn’t hundreds of thousands but for me, when I should be saving my pennies for a place to live, it was frivolous. But it also felt right. It holds so much hope and sadness and once I spoke with Anna, I knew it was meant to be. I needed something to make this place, this city, feel like mine.

  “We should go some time, I’d love to see more of her work.” Drew turns on his heel, heading for the kitchen.

  He’s talking as if he’s staying longer than a weekend, and along with his luggage and cryptic comment about being here for me, my urgent need for answers grows.

  “Drew, please tell me why you’re here and what you mean.” I scurry after him, hoping the mounting unease inside me settles down once he’s told all.

  “I will. In a sec. What’s new in the bedroom?” His eyes glitter teasingly.

  “Tell me what’s going on or leave.” I stand my ground, squaring my shoulders, no longer holding back my agitation.

  His heated gaze roams my body and he doesn’t even try to be subtle, ogling my legs. I don’t know what he’s doing or why he’s here, and with every second of cluelessness, apprehension grows in the pit of my stomach.

  He chuckles and his hand snakes out to wrap around my wrist, bringing me flush against him. I gasp and his lips slant over mine to kiss me long and hard. It’s sweet and desperate all at the same time.

  He breaks our kiss but doesn’t go anywhere as he whispers persuasively against my lips, “I want you. I always will. I love you. I always will.”

  As if he’s destroyed my barriers or unlocked the barricade around my heart, I’m stunned, speechless, and stripped. I don’t want him to go even though only moments ago, I told him so. I’ve loved him senselessly for most of my life. And still do. Always will.

  With me still in his arms, he slides to his knees and buries his face into my stomach. Shaking at first, the slight movements to his shoulders and chest scare me and my need to comfort and hold him are overwhelming. My fingers thread his hair, holding his head to me, and my other hand rubs soothing circles on his upper back.

  It’s his sob, a small whimper into the fabric of my shirt that buckles my knees and cracks my heart. Tears flood my vision and a ripple of uncertainty teases the edges of my heart.

  “I did it all wrong.” His voice cracks and a single tear falls down his cheek. “I’m so sorry.” Deep sorrow shadows his eyes. “I…”

  “Shhh.” I fall to my knees and wrap my arms around him, seeking his lips with mine.

  He’s more than apologized, time and time again. Even with the distance, not a phone call nor visit has gone by without feeling his remorse, his love and his need for absolution in every ounce of his body.

  He pushes to meet me halfway and his mouth is hot, almost feverish, against mine. His groan, both agonized and content, emanates from deep within him and pierces my heart. He needs to hear the words as much as I need to say them.

  “I love you, Drew. I forgive you.”

  29

  Drew

  The second Pippa comes back to bed, I hook my arm around her bare waist, sliding her body against mine. My fingers tilt her chin up and I kiss her foolishly, unable to get enough of her. I take every pleasurable moan and whimper she gifts me while her hand drifts down my abdomen toward my growing and hardening length.

  After my breakdown, which I never saw coming—that wasn’t part of the plan—we made love right there on the cold, wooden floor. The dinger from the oven finally got our attention, and we only pulled apart long enough to eat the chicken.

  We threw on a few clothes as possible and huddled around the small table eating with our hands. Both of us hungry, greedy even, for each other, but we needed sustenance for the night ahead.

  After we ate our fill, and our hands still slick with grease, we stripped on our way to the bedroom, where we tumbled into the bed, our bodies melding as one.

  She may think her forgiveness is all I want, and she’d be wrong. I want all of her, and while we haven’t talked yet, I’m going to fix that right now. Reluctantly, I pry her gripped fingers from my throbbing shaft, and she quirks an eyebrow.

  “As much as I don’t want you to stop, we need to talk.”

  She gives me one of her pricelessly sweet, sunshiny smiles and a gratifying pressure surges in my chest, threatening to explode.

  “Talk? That’s what you want to do?” She huffs, attempting to roll onto her back, but my grasp on her body is firm.

  “Yes and no.” My fingers massage her slender hip. “We’ll pick up where you left off. After.” I kiss the tip of her pert nose and she glances up at me, interested.

  “Okay. Talk.” Her fear and uncertainty about me,
about us, aren’t as strong as I’ve seen before, but some of it still lingers in the blue depths of her eyes.

  She rests her chin on me and kisses at my bare chest. Her soft lips are like electric paddles to the heart, kicking the muscle into overdrive.

  I love her to no end.

  “I drove down. Like you already figured out.”

  She wrinkles her nose and shuts her eyes for a moment. “How long are you staying?”

  “Oh, didn’t I tell you?” My tone is light and teasing, and she perks up at my sly grin.

  “What?”

  “I’m not leaving. That’s why I drove and brought all my clothes. There’s more stuff out in the car.”

  “What? You’re staying. But—” she sputters.

  I’m not quick enough to stop my laughter from bursting from my lips and she narrows her eyes, not impressed with my humor.

  “But what?”

  “Your job. Your condo and cottage. You have everything in Toronto!” With each word, her pitch rises and again, I wrestle to not feed my amusement at her utter incredulity.

  “No, I don’t have everything. All of that can be replaced. The one and only thing I want and need is you.” My fingers dig into her silky flesh and I drag her up by her waist to meet my lips.

  The thinnest sob slides from her mouth into mine and her hands clutch my head, almost wanting to devour me whole. Our kiss is long, frenetic and over way too soon. Her eyes gleam with unshed tears, searching my face for something I haven’t said or for a truth she dares not believe.

  “I left my job and I’m leasing my condo.” With every bit of news, her eyes grow wider. “I’ve been a busy boy these past few weeks. I told you we aren’t doing long distance. And the cottage, well, we’ll go during the summer. Long weekends or something. We’ll figure it out. Finn and Cass will take care of it.”

  “What about your job?”

  “I’ll work in New York.”

  “But can you do that? Won’t you have to take the bar exam?”

  “Yeah. It’s a process but it isn’t impossible. I’ll have to be evaluated for eligibility and if approved, take the bar again. I’ve already applied for the eval. It’s no big deal.” I hope my confidence settles her doubts because I’m not concerned. “The question is, are you okay with having an unemployed boyfriend for a while? Are you willing to support me?” I ask, poking at her ribs, and she squirms, laughing.

  The tip of her wet, pink tongue darts out to lick her pretty lips. “Hmmm, I might be able to work with that. You’d be mine to do with as I please.” She gives me a sexy-as-hell smirk and arousal shoots through my veins.

  “The same goes for you.” My fingers walk teasingly up her rib cage and a burst of her carefree, happy laughter fills the air. Now that I’ve got her where I want her, I’m unrelenting with my tickles and she writhes in my grip, her hot, naked body rubbing against mine.

  “Stop,” she says between giggles and gasps, protesting with gentle slaps to my chest, and a chuckle rumbles through my body.

  I don’t want to ever lose this feeling again. I’ll never stop wanting this woman. This life. I was a fool and lost all I ever wanted without realizing what I was giving up. I’ve learned my lesson and won’t ever turn my back on her again.

  I finally relent and her chest heaves as she catches her breath. “What if you can’t get a job with the D.A.?”

  Our brief playtime hasn’t deterred her focus on my career. She isn’t asking questions I haven’t already considered, but she needs to understand I’m not concerned. Even if I never practice law again.

  “Then I’ll join a firm and be a defense attorney, or maybe I’ll start my own practice.” My thumb draws lazy circles on her shoulder.

  “But you’ve never wanted that. You want to put the bad guys away, not get them off.” She eyes me skeptically and my stomach twists.

  She’s right. I became a lawyer to see justice served and chose the prosecution because I couldn’t live with myself if I helped a guilty person walk. Most defense attorneys don’t ask their clients if they’re guilty for that very reason. Plus if you know your client is guilty of the crime they’re being tried for, as a lawyer, you can’t allow your client to perjure themselves.

  I’m not sure if I could stop myself from asking each client if they were innocent. It would be my weakness and all around, there are many reasons why I chose to prosecute over defend. But with my own firm, I could pick and choose my cases. Besides, there are pros and cons to both sides of the law. The justice system is far from perfect.

  “Don’t worry about it right now. We’ll figure something out, and I’ve got money saved so even if I’m out of work for a year or so, we’ll be fine.” I squeeze her to me.

  All the years without Pippa have been a wasteland for me. I never took a vacation, I never indulged, and I never bought anything of significance. It’s easy to save a lot of money when you aren’t really living. We would be comfortable, and I could afford to be picky if I became a defense attorney, even in New York City.

  “Why does it feel like you’re trying to get rid of me?” A wry grin spreads across my cheeks and she blushes.

  “Never. I just can’t believe you’re doing all this for me.”

  “What? Of course. You’re the most important thing in my life. Without you, nothing else matters.”

  I smile and draw her even closer, if that’s even possible, hoping she’ll stop finding reasons why we won’t work. She brings her head to mine, our mouths joining and her hands gripping the sides of my face. We’re done talking and now, with my body, I show her how I feel about her.

  I’m slow and deliberate, testing my willpower and strength as I bring us to the edge of our climax only to recede time and time again. Her body arches into my touches, responding to my deep frenzied kisses and long languid thrusts as if made for me. She may not believe it yet, but I’m here to stay. Pippa is my home, and wherever she is, that’s where I’ll be.

  Epilogue

  Pippa

  Eight months later

  “Hi,” I say, slipping out of my sandals and dropping my bag and sunglasses on the small wooden bench Drew built to fit perfectly in the nook of our front entrance.

  “Hey, I’m in the bedroom,” Drew says, his voice sounding far off because he’s upstairs, not because our place is huge.

  We’ve only been living for two weeks in our three-story Harlem brownstone that we purchased over seven months ago. Everything happened so fast. After Drew moved in, we began looking for a place to live. I’d already narrowed it down to a few neighborhoods I liked and could afford, with Harlem being one of them.

  I loved the brownstones in the fully mature neighborhoods with pre-schools and flower boxes, but those were far out of my reach. And while there were some that I could stretch and scrimp to afford, they were in serious disrepair. That’s where Drew changed everything.

  We both fell in love with a historic brownstone that needed gutting. While the purchase price was still steep, it was more reasonable because of the work needed and of course, being no stranger to renovations, Drew didn’t shy away from the task. He was still unemployed, waiting for his evaluation from the New York Board of Law Examiners, and with all his teen years working for his uncle’s construction company, he wanted to do most of the work. And there was tons of it to go around.

  Drew poured his heart and soul into our home and I helped as much as I could, reminding us of the weekends we’d spent renovating his cottage. Because of the work needed to our new place, we only made it to Muskoka twice over the summer and each time, it was hard to leave the idyllic peace and beauty of the cottage. But now, as I skim the freshly-painted walls and the gleaming hardwood floors, I know our sacrifice was worth it.

  I traipse through the house and up the stairs toward our bedroom. I can hear Drew muttering and laughing, and I wonder what he’s up to. Usually, he’d come down to greet me.

  Our bedroom is a decent size but it feels small with the king-size bed taking up a
fair amount of space. Over our bed hangs a much larger painting by Anna Hart, entitled Love, and every time I see it, a smile springs to my face. We now have three of her paintings and a small sculpture as she’s now dabbling in marble. And I’m thrilled to say, she’s become a friend. Although she’s leaving for Italy any day now and I will miss her.

  “What are you doing?” I ask, spying Drew on the other side of our bed with only his head and shoulders in sight.

  He’s glancing down at something in front of him and he bounces to his feet at the sight of me. His expression is startled and strange. With one final look to the floor, which our bed hides from my view, he strides toward me with his arms open.

  His warm mouth lands on mine and he pulls me in for a long, slow kiss. “Hey, how was your day?”

  “Good, busy.” Football has started, and while my spring and summer were busy with offseason training, nothing compares to when NFL season is on.

  It also means I’ll start traveling with the team for away games. I used to worry what that would mean for us, but I no longer do. Drew’s more than proved he’s here to stay and he’s even hinted that he might join me occasionally on the road.

  “I’ve got a surprise for you.” A sexy grin dances on his firm sensual lips and I want to spend the evening kissing him.

  “You do? What is it?” A thrill runs through me, already eager for my surprise and hoping it involves us naked and entwined.

  Leaning down, he sweeps an envelope from the bedspread that I didn’t notice and hands it to me. It’s addressed to me and right away I catch the return address, sucking in air. California.

  “Is it?”

  I rip open the seal and fumble to pull out the papers. My hands shake as I skim the legalese, looking for the magic words. Finally, I find them and just stare, transfixed on what I’ve longed for.