From where I stood, I could see his driveway—empty. He was probably still at work.
Good, I can call a cab.
I pulled out my phone and clicked on the main menu button, but the screen stayed black.
"What the fuck?" My phone was dead, and if I wanted to walk all the way back to the city, I wouldn't get there until way past dark, and I had to admit I was a little scared.
I stood there for a moment, vacillating between the idea of taking my chances and walking home or waiting on the porch for him. It would be pretty awkward, though, to have to ask him to give me a ride after the big show I put on when I left, but fuck him. He at least owed me a goddam ride.
Slowly, I made my way past the opulent homes, wearing my shabby outfit, sticking out like a sore thumb. I felt like everyone was looking out their windows at me, wondering what on earth I was doing on their high-end street.
I kept my head down, and arms crossed as I hurried down the street to his house. Walking up his driveway and up to the door, I turned and leaned my back against it, sliding down 'til my ass was firmly planted on the ground. Not having realized how far I'd walked, my aching feet were raring to tell me just how upset they were at me for making them walk miles in shoes with soles as thick as a piece of paper.
Kicking off each shoe, I wiggled my toes in the evening air, letting the breeze massage them a bit. I could've fallen asleep right there, but I struggled against my fatigue to stay aware of my surroundings. Even though the neighborhood was safe, it was probably not a good idea to fall asleep on someone's porch—probably not acceptable etiquette in this neck of the woods.
The dull roar of a car engine slowly neared, carrying along with it a set of headlights which bounced up and down as the wheels hit the cobblestone inlaid streets.
I wiped the mascara from underneath my eyes and tamed my hair by running my fingers through it. I probably looked like a hot damn mess, and I was sure he looked as amazing as he always did.
Goddam men.
RYDER
Jace pulled into the driveway.
"Mr. Thorne."
"Yeah?" I looked up from my phone.
"I think we just found her."
"What?" I peeked over the front passenger seat and looked through the windshield, and there she was, pushing herself off the ground.
I flew out of the car before Jace could even come to a complete stop. "I'll see you in the morning."
"You don’t want me to wait?" he yelled out before I slammed the door behind me.
"Tomorrow," I replied with a smile, not taking my eyes of Hannah.
He smiled back and winked. "Yes, sir."
I walked right up to her, seeing the moistness on her face and the smudged mascara around her eyes.
Pulling her against my body in a tight hug, wrapping my arms around her, we stood there for a long moment. Reluctantly, I pulled away and laid my hands on her shoulders. "I've been looking everywhere for you."
"I just started walking," she whispered, setting her gaze on the ground.
Lifting her chin with my crooked finger, I stared into her eyes. "I'm sorry."
She shook her head. "It doesn't matter. You can hire whomever you want."
"No, I mean about everything. Last year—the note—today—not admitting what everyone else seems to always know."
"What's that?"
"My feelings. The reason I run so hard away from you."
Wrapping my arms around her, I crashed my chest against hers, feeling her heart beat at a pace which matched mine in its intensity. We stood there for what seemed like an eternity all balled up into a few moments.
"Why'd you run?" she asked, breathing against my neck.
"You are the one. You've always been the one."
"Then why?" she exhaled. The lump in her throat had begun to choke out her already low voice.
"I would've hurt you."
"But you did anyway."
"No, I would've hurt you, like my grandfather hurt my grandmother, like my mother hurt my father. The fucking family curse—it's what I was keeping you from."
"You never told me about them."
I shook my head, pressing my forehead against hers. "It wasn’t a story I was proud to tell."
She pulled away and looked straight into my eyes. "But you aren't them."
Her words made me chuckle a bit. "My whole life has been leading up to that big finale. Serial dating, hopping from bed to bed, hurting any woman I touched. How could I do that to you? My Hannah?"
"There you go—choosing for me, again," she said with a slight tinge of anger in her voice.
"I had the best intentions. I swear I did," I replied, holding back a dam of tears I'd never even known were there.
"You know what they say about the best intentions?"
I cleared the crack from my voice. "No, what?"
"I dunno. But what you did was fucked up, and I didn’t deserve it."
The side of my lip curled up. "Yeah, I know this. But, I also know that I don’t deserve your forgiveness, even though, I swear to you, Hannah, if you give it to me, I'll never hurt you again."
"What about CJ?"
"Summer hired her, to replace you."
"Has she?"
"Yes."
She ripped away from me and stared out into the street.
I reached out, and wrapped my fingers around her wrist, pulling her right back where she belonged—in my arms. "I mean—I could never have the woman I love work for me."
She peered up.
"I'm tired of running. I wanna be still, Hannah—I wanna be still with you."
With her staring straight into my eyes, I couldn't hold back the burning inside me any longer. I leaned in, crashing my lips against hers. She tasted of vanilla and sugar, maybe the leftovers of some exotic coffee blend or maybe it was just my imagination. It was the way I’d always expected her to taste—light and airy and all good things—sweet things—things I shouldn’t be touching for fear I might break them—ruin them.
And yet here I was, touching her all over. My hands caressing every inch of her slender frame and instead of running away, she leaned into it, embraced it—embraced me. I ravaged her mouth, our tongues warring, and she let me, inviting me in deeper. My lips drank her in. My tongue was that of a man possessed. Still, somehow I found the strength to pull back, just far enough that I could look her straight in the eyes, ignoring her flushed face, the way her hair was stuck to her feverish cheeks. I tried to focus, making sure she understood, what this meant, what I wanted. "I don’t want to stop," I warned her.
Truth be told—I couldn't stop. There’d never be any turning back if we took this step; I’d never be able to walk away—to let her walk away.
HANNAH
There was a moment there where I hesitated, trembling in his arms, feeling the gravity of his words, and the weight of the emotion behind them. Caution warred with my years of desire for him. The heat simmering just below the surface of my fears finally won out. I looked directly into his eyes. "Then don't."
RYDER
Hannah's words gave me all the permission I needed. I hoisted her in my arms, while her long legs wrapped around my waist almost as if guided by instinct—like they belonged there—like they just fit. They were a second cage around my cock, my straining erection now trapped against, not just by my slacks, but by the press of her thighs against mine. It was a prison I could happily live with. Working the front door open, I carried her across the foyer and into the entrance of the living room, using the wall to guide my way up the stairs by feel since my face was buried against her neck, too busy marking my claim to try and navigate by sight.
Somehow, we made it up to the second floor without incident. No easy feat given how distracted I was by the sounds Hannah was making. Her desperate and needy moans pierced through my body—sounds I'd never expected from her, even in my wildest fantasies. She squirmed against my chest—her fingers fighting against the buttons of my dress shirt, slipping through the folds
between them, raking her nails over the flesh on my chest.
This house was too damn big.
It wasn't something I'd realized until that moment. But every step between us and the bedroom seemed more like a mile. An impossible distance to span when all I wanted to do was bury myself inside of her.
Screw it.
I settled for an end table midway down the hall. It ran a good six feet in length, I'd done it in smaller and less convenient spaces, so it was more than enough. The table was level with my hips and wide enough to accommodate her slender frame. Its surface was adorned with some kind of ceramic tea set, which could easily be replaced. I swiped my arm over the surface, sending the cups crashing to the floor. Laying her gently on the table with my other arm, she sank back against the wood, and I leaned down on top of her.
"Is this alright?" I questioned gruffly, more unsettled by the uncertainty in my voice than by our unorthodox position.
I cared about her comfort, which surprised me. She bit her lip in a way that should've been cute, but failed to be anything but the most sensual thing I’d ever seen. My dick was moments away from tearing holes through the starch material of my pants.
She smiled. "You want me so badly you can’t even wait to get to the bedroom?"
Her tone was playful, coquettish. Not something I’d ever thought would describe her reserved nature, and here I thought my fantasies had long since conjured every possible angle she could take. Her hand played with the hem of her skirt, and as I watched, enraptured, she pulled it up toward her waist, sliding the thin fabric of her skirt up her thighs, revealing more and more of herself until even her panties were exposed—her very wet panties.
"I suppose I can live with that."
Years of cultivating my skills paid off as I multi-tasked, undoing my belt and button with frantic fingers. Even as she slid her underwear down her impossibly long—impossibly gorgeous legs. She spread them wide then, welcoming me, pulling me in closer. I gripped her waist in my hands and yanked her down the table until she rested just on the edge. My own pants dropped around my ankles, and my dick sprang free, proudly erect. Her breathing quickened, picking up speed like a runaway train, barely audible over the thundering of my own pulse.
I guided myself between her thighs, or maybe she guided me. Did it really matter? It was hard to tell at that point, and I was past caring. All that mattered was the heat drawing me in deeper and deeper like a magnet. It was an inferno matched only by the fire in her warm brown eyes. I cupped her ass in one hand and reached up with the other to thread her hair around my fist. Not pulling hard enough to yank on her head, but just enough that we were connected in every way. Hand to head—hip to hip—body and soul.
"You're mine," was the only thing that came to mind. "You've always been mine."
A primal, and primitive utterance I’d likely be embarrassed by, were it any other moment with any other woman. But she just smiled and reached up to grab two handfuls of my shirt in her small, delicate fists.
"And, you're mine," she echoed before she yanked me down close enough to capture my lips in another hungry, bruising kiss. I groaned into her mouth and pushed forward with my hips, sinking into her folds—into her. I felt her response more than I heard it. The hot warmth of her moan slipped through her lips and past mine as our breaths co-mingled—our bodies connected skin to skin.
She clenched my hips with her thighs, crying out words I couldn’t quite make out. I palmed the curve of her ass and shuddered as I slid deeper into her, breathing naughty, suggestive words I’d never remember into her ear.
I lost track of time as we eventually made it to my bedroom. I couldn’t say how or when, but lying together among my scattered sheets, as her naked body curled up against mine, I was fairly certain time no longer mattered. The steady rise and fall of her chest where it rested against the pillow of my arm was practically her purring. They were soaked in sweat and more, but a shower seemed a distant, impossible dream.
"For the record," she said, stirring in my arms, "that was fun, but maybe next time let’s try actually starting with the bed."
"Fine by me." I propped myself up on one elbow as she rolled her head back onto her neck to gaze up at me. "I certainly paid enough for the damn thing."
"Mmm. I just love those—your priorities—"
I cut her off with another kiss, and she seemed more than happy to let me. As we sank deep into the mattress and another hour or two worth of exploring occurred, I realized just how much better reality, as opposed to fantasy, could be.
Chapter Twelve
RYDER
A FEW WEEKS LATER…
We were in the back seat while Jace drove us to Regan's wedding. She was wearing a beautiful black cocktail gown which matched my tuxedo perfectly. Her hair—perfectly done in a French roll, faced me as she stared out the window, deep in thought.
"What's going on with you lately?" I asked, resting my hand on hers.
"I got a check in the mail for over a few hundred thousand dollars."
I leaned in. "That's awesome! Why do you look so down?"
"The letter that came with it says it's from a late great aunt whom I never knew about."
"Well, thank you, late great aunt!"
I caught Jace's eyes staring directly at me through the rearview mirror. Shifting my head to the side, I motioned for him to look away.
"The thing is—I called my mom and dad, and they've never heard of this woman."
"Well, sometimes relatives come out of the woodwork. Why are you questioning it? Just go with it."
"I'm not stupid, you know."
"No one said you were."
"Tell me you didn’t send me the money. Tell me I'm not some cause of yours."
I squeezed her hand. "A cause?"
"Someone you think you need to save. Like the orphanage kids."
"The orphanage kids?" My eyes shot back over to the rearview mirror. How dare he tell her about that? That was my business to tell. Unfortunately, he was keeping his eyes on the road for the very first time ever.
She finally turned from the window. "Did you send me the money?"
"Why does it matter so much to you?"
"Because if you sent it to me out of pity—"
"Stop right there. I did no such thing."
She pushed my hand away. "So you did send it to me?" her voice deepened.
"It's your money."
Her eyes narrowed, and I could feel her anger whip through the car. "My money? Stop lying to me."
"It was your rent money."
"Then that's not my money. It's your building."
"No. It's not. I put that building in your name years ago."
"What?"
"You and Regan were my only family. So in case anything ever happened to me, I put some of my properties in your and Regan's names. He got the small strip mall down the street from the apartment, and I gave you the apartment building."
"The small strip mall that closed down the coffee shop I worked at before I came to work for you?"
"Come to think of it, yeah, that one."
"Did he know he owned it?"
"Yeah, my newbie lawyer at the time contacted him, but before he could make the phone call to inform you, I stopped him. I made sure he never told you."
"Why?" she asked, shaking her head.
"Because I knew you wouldn't take it from me. I just saved all your rent money, because I also knew if I told you that you didn’t need to pay, you would have moved out."
"Why would it matter to you if I moved out or not?"
"I guess in some way, having you there made me feel like I was still a part of your life."
She peered down, fiddling with the material of her dress, rolling it around between her fingers. "Why did Regan take his building?"
"He put up a fight, but I wore him down. He eventually agreed to take it and not tell you about it."
"So why did he shut the coffee shop down?"
"You'd have to ask him that yours
elf. I actually hadn't realized that's the coffee shop you worked at."
She shook her head as we pulled into the venue where Regan and Cher's wedding was being held.
HANNAH
I hopped out of the car before Jace or Ryder could let me out. Picking up the extra material which flowed to the ground, I ran in, asking the first waiter where I could find the groom. He directed us to a small room up the stairs.
I took the first step when Ryder rushed in behind me. "Where are you going?"
"I need to know," I said, running up the stairs as best I could in the three-inch heels I was wearing.
"Can't it wait?" he hollered from behind.
I glanced down at him, from midway up the stairs. "No."
Pushing through the only door at the top of the stairs, I found Regan buttoning the vest to his tuxedo.
He whipped around from the mirror. "Hannah, I'm so glad you could—"
"Stop right there."
He held out his hands and stepped back. "Why did you shut down the coffee shop?"
The smile left his face as he sighed and took a seat on the edge of the bed.
"I told him to do it," a familiar voice blew in from behind.
I spun around. "Summer?"
"I knew it all. I knew all his dealings. Whether it was on paper or in his heart, I knew he loved you."
"But how?"
"You think it was a coincidence I was at that coffee shop that morning, and just happened to have a job to offer right when you needed one?"
I turned back to Ryder. "And you were okay with this? Playing with my emotions—my life."
"I had no idea Summer had done this—any of this," Ryder said, glaring at Summer.
Regan chimed in, "There was no other way to get you two back together."
"How dare you play with my life, Regan," Ryder growled from the door. "You're supposed to be on my side."
Tempt Me: A Second Chance Billionaire Romance (Me Series Book 2) Page 8
