Her anger made him even wilder. He thrust deeper and deeper, harder and faster. She clung to him and cried out into his kiss as she had her second orgasm . . . or perhaps her third. He growled something in her ear, climaxed with one last powerful thrust, and shuddered above her.
He rolled off her, disposed of his condom, and lay there next to her, breathing as hard as she was but not touching her. Neither of them said a word, and she wondered if he was regretting what they’d done as much as she was.
She hadn’t thought it was possible, but she felt more rather than less of a distance between them.
Eric just had amazing sex with the woman he couldn’t imagine not spending the rest of his life with, and somehow it had left him feeling like shit. He had spent a sleepless night battling his feelings for Sage.
On one hand, she was everything he’d ever wanted—and more. On the other hand, he didn’t trust that she could be. He wanted to. He wanted to believe she didn’t care about his money or his fame and that she’d fallen for him when she thought he had neither.
He’d made a fool out of himself over a woman before. He couldn’t risk doing it again.
If she wanted his money, he’d give it to her. She could have the big house, the status and parties, as long as he could have her. No, he wasn’t proud of his weakness for her, but he was jaded enough to believe he could manage it. So, she wasn’t who he’d thought she was. Weren’t most people a disappointment anyway? At least this time he’d be going into the union with his eyes open.
She’d returned all his smaller gifts, so he’d brought out the big guns and they’d worked. She might have protested in public, but in the end she’d asked him to stay, just as he’d known she would. After all, money made almost anything forgivable.
He flopped an arm over his eyes and sighed. He should be happier than he felt. He could probably say anything to her at this point and she’d agree to be with him simply because he’d dangled marriage in front of her. Even if he insisted on a prenup, she would likely jump at the chance to walk down the aisle with him.
He’d gotten the answers he came for. Disappointment in her, though, wasn’t enough to change the fact that he wanted her. He just needed have more realistic expectations.
He turned onto his side and propped his head up on one hand. Gently, he moved a stray lock of hair away from her forehead. She shifted to meet his gaze, looking as miserable as he felt. That’s not a good sign.
“Why?” she asked hoarsely.
“Why what?”
“Why are you angry with me?”
Her question knocked the wind right out of him. She understood him in a way no one else did, and that realization only confused him more. “How could I be after what we just shared?”
“I don’t know.” A tear slid out of the corner of her eye and fell silently on the pillow below her head.
He wrapped his arms around her and rocked her against his chest. Had he been too rough? She’d seemed to enjoy it. “Sage, what’s wrong?”
She buried her face in his chest. “Besides everything?”
“Talk to me, Sage. Did I hurt you?”
She lifted her face. “Right now? No. No, that was all good. Great, even. But—”
“But?” Relief flooded him that she’d enjoyed herself as well.
She sat up and covered herself with part of the blanket. “Don’t you think you owe me an apology or an explanation or something about pretending to be someone you’re not?”
He shrugged and said what he didn’t want to believe. “You knew who I was.”
“I didn’t.”
He raised a hand to cover one cheek. “So if I do this, I look like an entirely different man?”
Her mouth dropped open in surprise. “I had no reason to doubt you were who you said you were.”
That would have been easier to believe had he not seen her face in the alley. “Then it must have been a shock to see me outside your window without my scar.”
She frowned at him. “Not for the reason you’re implying. I figured out who you were when I saw you on the news.”
“Of course you did.”
She moved off the bed to stand above him, hands on hips, looking gloriously beautiful even with fury spitting from her eyes. “Enough with the snide little comments. If you have something to say, say it. What exactly do you think is going on between us?”
He moved to sit up on the side of the bed. “Nothing unusual. You’re fucking me because I’m rich.” She slapped him clean across the face then. He shook his head at the sting of it. “What was that for?”
She retrieved her bra from the floor and put it on, then angrily pulled her shirt on and buttoned it. “Don’t say another word. Not one more word.” He stood and reached for her, but she pushed away from him and kept getting dressed instead. She’d just finished tying her shoes when she said, “Wait, where am I going? This is my apartment. You need to leave.”
She meant it. She started picking up his clothing and throwing it at him. He caught each item easily. “Sage, obviously, I could have expressed that better. What I mean is that I don’t care how long you knew my real name. I don’t care why you’re with me. I enjoy being with you, and I know you enjoy being with me. You don’t have to pretend to be upset. Pack your stuff and come home with me.”
She picked up one of his shoes and sent it sailing toward his head. He ducked just in time.
“Get dressed and get the fuck out,” she snarled.
He put on his clothes, mostly because she looked like she might go homicidal if he didn’t. “You don’t have to do this, Sage.”
She walked out of her bedroom.
He followed as soon as he had his shoes on. She was already at the door of her apartment, holding it open. Her face was flushed. Her breasts heaved in anger. She’d never looked more beautiful . . . except possibly when she’d orgasmed beneath him. She didn’t, however, look as if she’d want to hear that observation.
Her voice was tight as she said, “I thought you and I had something special. I thought you understood me like no one else ever had, but I was wrong. I don’t care how much money a person has. You know that. Or you should. I shouldn’t have slept with you. I thought maybe, somewhere in there was the man I was falling in love with. But Wayne Easton doesn’t exist, does he? I’m an optimistic idiot. So, please, go. I don’t ever want to see you again.”
He stood in front of her, a ball of male confusion. She was kicking him out. Only one other woman ever had, but this was a very different experience. She wasn’t Jasmine, telling him she was disgusted by his touch. She’d just said she’d been falling for him before he’d accused her of wanting to be with him for his money.
He didn’t want to leave. He didn’t put up a fight, though, when she shoved him out the door and slammed it in his face. He needed time to think before he opened his mouth again. He stood in the hallway for a long time wondering what the hell to do next, yet certain of one thing—they weren’t done.
Chapter Thirteen
Sage walked away from the door on unsteady legs. Never in her entire life had she struck another person. She’d also never slept with someone she was angry with. Who am I becoming?
She went to the window of her apartment and watched the white limo from behind the curtains. Her heart rate accelerated when the man she’d just thrown out of her life and her apartment finally appeared beside it. Despite the excited commotion around him, he wasn’t smiling. He looked up in her direction, and their eyes met.
She could still hear him telling her he thought she was with him for his money. If that’s what he thought of her, there was nothing to argue about. She’d wasted half her life trying to get her parents to really see her and—she swallowed hard—love her as she was. Only a masochist would look for that in a lover as well.
“I want to make this work. If that means putting marriage on the table, I’ll do it.”
Fuck you, Wayne or Eric or whoever the fuck you are.
I don’t need y
ou.
She stripped, went to the shower, and tried to wash the memory of him away. It was too vivid, part of it too good. She had always trusted her feelings, believing that they always ultimately guided her to where she was meant to be.
I shouldn’t have slept with him. How did I possibly think it would make things better between us?
Defiantly, she dressed in her nicest outfit and applied much more makeup than she normally wore. She brushed her hair until it shone, then styled it in long curls that framed her face. Then she grabbed a gallon of ice cream, sat on her couch, and cried her heart out. She cried so long and so hard, she curled up and slept.
She woke several hours later to the sound of her phone ringing. Bella. She let the call ring through.
The phone rang again, so she tossed it on the chair across the room. There wasn’t a person she wanted to talk to. Tomorrow, yes. Tomorrow she would pick herself up, dust herself off, and go back out into the world. But not today.
The sun went down without Sage moving from her couch. She didn’t bother to turn on a light. How could she feel so heartbroken when nothing they’d shared had been real? Wayne was a fabrication, the creation of a coldhearted actor who was probably doing it for sick amusement.
“Come home with me.”
Double fuck you, Eric Westerly. I wish that shoe had hit you right in the middle of your big, fat face.
A light knock on her door was followed by a more persistent, louder one.
“I’m not home,” Sage finally called out. “Go away.”
The knocking paused, then began again until the pounding crept into her head as well. Sage dragged herself off the couch and made her way to the door. If it was Eric again, he wouldn’t like what she had to say to him.
She threw the door open and looked first at where Eric’s face would have been. She saw no one. Then went to shut it when she looked down and saw her visitor.
Mrs. Westerly stuck her purse in against the jamb, deftly preventing Sage’s action. “Miss Revere, I’d like a moment of your time.”
Sage opened the door only to have leverage to push the woman’s purse out. “I’m not interested.”
Mrs. Westerly stepped forward, placing her body in the doorway enough to block Sage’s ability to close the door. “There’s something I need to say.”
Upset as Sage was, she hadn’t yet sunk to the level of shoving an elderly woman. She sighed and rubbed her swollen eyes. “I don’t want to hear it.”
“Might I come in for a moment?” Mrs. Westerly asked, as if she didn’t know how unwelcome she was.
“Sure, why not,” Sage said in resignation, letting the door swing wide-open. “It’s not as if my day could get worse.” Without waiting to see what her guest would do, Sage returned to the couch and looked sadly at the now-empty carton of ice cream.
Mrs. Westerly turned on the light, closed the door behind her, and after inspecting that it was clean, sat on a chair across from Sage. She looked Sage over slowly once, then again. “Are you unwell?”
Sage shook her head.
Mrs. Westerly motioned to her face and grimaced.
Sage ran a finger beneath one of her eyes. It came back smudged with the makeup she had applied earlier. The embarrassment she normally would have felt at raccoon eyes didn’t come. She was still in shock from her morning. “Long day” was all she said.
Mrs. Westerly nodded and looked around the room before speaking. “I heard that Eric came to see you this morning.”
Great. This is exactly who I want to discuss him with. Just great. “You’ll be happy to know it went badly. Whatever we had is over.”
“Because of me,” the older woman said. “I’m sorry.”
Unable to stomach another lie, Sage called bullshit. “You’ll have to excuse me if I don’t believe you at all. Hey, it’s easier this way. Now you don’t have to have me arrested.”
“I shouldn’t have threatened to.”
“We agree on that, at least.”
Mrs. Westerly folded and unfolded her hands. “I was misinformed regarding your business practices. After closer inspection, I regret that I jumped to the conclusions I did.”
Sage waved a hand in the air. She didn’t want to have this conversation. “I don’t care. I’m used to people not understanding what I do.” The only opinion that mattered was Wayne’s—not Eric’s. Whoever. God, I hate him.
“Well, you were big enough to deliver your apology to me in person, so I am here to offer you the same consideration. I’m sorry I thought you were a money-grabbing opportunist.”
Sage laughed because it was that or cry. “I forgive you. Now, could you leave? I’m really not in the mood for company.”
Mrs. Westerly didn’t move to stand. Instead she tapped her fingers on the arm of her chair. “I told Eric what I thought of you, and I fear that has caused problems between you two.”
“It shouldn’t have. It wouldn’t have if he had had any faith in me. So, although I appreciate your apology, it’s really only making me feel worse.” Well, at least I know why he changed.
“Eric had his heart broken once by a woman—”
“I know, he told me.”
“It hurt him deeply. You have to understand—since that betrayal, he hasn’t been able to trust anyone.”
“No. I don’t have to understand anything. He was hurt. I get it. But you know what? He’s not the only who has ever had his heart broken. He’s not the only one who has ever believed in someone who didn’t deserve it. But who he becomes because of it is his choice.”
Mrs. Westerly went to sit beside Sage. “You’re upset right now, but—”
“Upset? No. Disappointed that I let myself fall in love with a man who has no idea how to love back—that’s more accurate. Thank you for apologizing, but it doesn’t change anything. There’s nothing to work through. I met the real Eric Westerly today, and I didn’t like him. End of story.”
After a moment, Mrs. Westerly said, “I’m sorry to hear that. I was hoping I could convince you to give him a second chance.”
Sage shook her head. “I don’t see that happening.”
Mrs. Westerly stood and hovered above Sage for a moment. “Not a single one of us is perfect. I should know—I’m less perfect than most. Eric shouldn’t have believed me, but I shouldn’t have planted the doubt in him. I’m sure there are things you’ve done that you regret. You’re angry right now, but it will pass. Don’t rush to make any solid decisions until some of it does. Eric is complicated, but you sound like you are, too. I’d like nothing more than to hear that the two of you have worked things out.”
She sounded as if she meant it. Sage looked up at her. “I thought you didn’t want me anywhere near you or your family.”
Mrs. Westerly’s chin rose. “I was wrong. It happens from time to time.”
Sage would have smiled if her heart weren’t still shattered. Instead she simply nodded once.
“I’ll let myself out,” Mrs. Westerly said, then left.
Sage stayed where she was, hugging herself on her couch. She wanted to believe what Eric’s grandmother had said, but she didn’t know who to believe anymore.
What a sad thing to have in common with the man I love.
Without a disguise, there weren’t many places Eric could go that wouldn’t have him under constant public scrutiny, so he did as he often had in the past—he holed up in his house, avoiding even his staff. This time, at least, he had his lair. The whole morning looped in Eric’s mind like a tragic movie. It always brought him to the same haunting memory—the one that would stay with him for life—and that was the expression in Sage’s eyes when she’d told him to leave.
He hadn’t slept at all the night before. It wasn’t his excuse, but it was an indicator to him of where his head had been when he’d decided to go to her as himself. Not his whole self. Not his humble side. No, after a night of mentally flogging himself for opening himself up to a woman he knew nothing about and then being shocked when told she wasn
’t the saint he’d built her up to be—he’d been angry.
Angry with himself for wanting to believe in happy endings.
Angry with his grandmother for pulling him back to reality.
Angry with Sage for shredding the progress he’d made.
He’d hired a limo, gotten the flowers, and headed off to Sage’s apartment, not because he thought it would win her over, but because he needed to prove to himself that it wouldn’t. Once again, he’d seen a problem as having only two possible outcomes: one, she jumped at the chance to be with him, thus proving her avarice; or two, she turned him away and confirmed her claim that neither wealth nor fame mattered to her.
He hadn’t considered the third option—that he was an utter ass and she was kindhearted enough to think she could reach beyond that to the man she saw inside him.
She’d been falling in love with him, and what had he done? He’d thrown all that right back in her face, accused her of fucking him for his money.
One push from Delinda and I’m right back to being who I’ve always been. Sage dodged a bullet. She deserves so much better.
All I had to do was be honest with her—believe in her.
He looked at his superhero suit hanging in its case. It mocked the strength he didn’t have in reality. His gaze drifted to the Wayne Easton wardrobe. Normal. Damaged, but recovering. Socially proactive Wayne. Also, sadly a caricature of someone I’ll never be.
He met his eyes in the mirror. Who the fuck do I think I’m fooling? I’m a self-absorbed, entitled narcissist. That’s who I am—who I’ve always been—who I’ll always be. People don’t change.
“I figured you’d be here,” Reggie said as he entered the area.
“I don’t want to talk about it, Reggie. Go away.”
“I knew you’d say that, so I’ve brought reinforcements.”
Eric glanced over his shoulder and saw Reggie’s wife by his side. Tall, blonde, with classically beautiful features—she could easily have been a model or actress had she chosen either role. Instead, she’d chosen what she said was a more entertaining life with Reggie. “Hi, Alice. Don’t mind me, I’m in a shitty mood.”
Hollywood Heir (Westerly Billionaire Book 4) Page 16
