What to Read After FSOG: The Gemstone Collection (WTRAFSOG Book 4)

by Selena Kitt

  “Michael.” Her hands swept over him.

  “I have to come.” He thrashed his hips up to her hand, his climax within reach at last. With his senses overloaded, he let go of the chair.

  She pushed herself back.

  He grabbed nothing but air, and doubled over, the throb of his unrealized orgasm socking him in the stomach. He hit the end, couldn’t handle any more. Forget making love, he had to fuck her.

  “I can’t do this.”

  “What did you say?”

  Her gasping out those words that caused him to look up. There was something behind her tone. Was it fear? “I said I can’t do this?” He grabbed himself and let go.

  She scurried to her feet.

  His heart raced, he tried to push himself up but had no strength. “Riley.”

  She backed up.

  The way the street lights came in the room, he could only see her silhouette. Something was off. His throat constricted in that one moment where something in the back of his mind told him he had seen her before, and not just the last two days.

  “Hold on.” He forced himself up, every part of his body cried out in objection. “Riley!”

  “If you can’t do this then you shouldn’t.” She covered her mouth with her hand, found her purse, and ran out of the room.

  “Don’t you dare leave!”

  The door slammed closed.

  He dropped back in the chair, her statement sending a sad, familiar twinge through him. Déjà vu. Did this happen to him before or did he foresee the future?

  He stared at the door.

  She left.

  She actually walked out the door.

  Left him with his pants down, only the faint scent that followed her all night, and something that fell out of the purse in her wake. At least she had the decency to close the door.

  Again, he stood. The only positive aspect of watching her cover her mouth in apparent horror, and ditch him was his erection deflated enough for him to force himself back into his pants. Not that it mattered. His entire body ached, begging for relief that would not be coming any time soon.

  Like always, there was too much to do. He wiped his hand over his face, trying to clear his mind.

  The first item on his task list included unscrambling her grand puzzle. He was overcome by a wave of nausea and relived the last few moments.

  He buckled his belt and ran his hand through his hair. “Then you shouldn’t.” He repeated what she said, turned and headed right toward what dropped out of her purse, picking up a small box.

  “Then you shouldn’t.” He said the words again and held the package up to his nose.

  The last piece fit into place and the picture became clear, zooming at him at such speed, he didn’t know how he missed it until now. Some valedictorian he turned out to be.

  He closed his eyes and took another whiff. Suddenly, he was transported back fifteen years, and they said time travel wasn’t possible.

  “Cloves.” He was never really sure if she actually smoked them, or lit them and walked around with them. Either way the scent stayed with her as if she willed it to follow her and it was terrified not to obey.

  Exactly the way it went after her that day in the cafeteria when he told her he couldn’t take her out after he stood her up. She didn’t like being stood up.

  “Then you shouldn’t.” He repeated her answer. She looked up at him, those light green eyes turning translucent, showing him her heart and how he broke it that day. What she didn’t know at the time was his heart hurt, too.

  He crushed the box in his hand, threw it to the floor and kicked it aside.

  He went to the door and stepped back into the hallway. The music shook the building, and he scooted by a few couples on his way to the elevator, glancing at a couple of the girls. The hair, the makeup, the piercings made all the difference. Couple those changes with a different name, and the fact he was sure she disappeared he’d never made the connection.

  He didn’t know her and they were still joined. “Unbelievable.” He knew it then and now.

  Back then he had plans. Plans he made, plans his parents made. Valedictorian, college, work and make money. Margaret didn’t fit those plans, but he wanted her. Wanted her in that all-consuming way teenagers have about them. He jockeyed into the tutoring position with her. For someone who hid under black lipstick and white face powder, she was the most genuine person he ever encountered.

  The doors to the elevator opened and once more he found himself in that gilded room.

  Lost in a stare, his vision blurred. The last part of their senior year was filled with all the rites and rituals put into place decades before them. He went to prom, she didn’t. He went to graduation, she didn’t. Though she’d been a definite stand out at school, she became harder and harder to spot.

  The doors to the elevator slid open, depositing him in the lobby. The same doorman opened the door for him and lifted his eyebrows.

  He stepped into the cool night air, it numbed him as he made his way to the corner. He took his phone out of pocket, texted the driver, and crossed his arms, glancing around wondering if she were here. Maybe she waited.

  This wasn’t the first time he gave her the benefit of the doubt.

  The last time had been the final time he saw her. He tracked her down in a crowded classroom full of almost graduates swapping yearbooks. She wouldn’t look his way, but he did manage to get her yearbook.

  She seemed to like the note he left hidden on her essay. Since she wouldn’t talk to him, he left a message in her yearbook. Yes, the move had mixed results over the years.

  The limousine drove up and the driver exited the car. “Are we waiting for the lady?”

  He turned around once more. She was nowhere. Too bad the most invigorating, freeing, and intense moment of his life occurred with the one person he was never allowed to have.

  She’d lied and used him. Chance may have brought them together, but everything else she did was conceived and contrived.

  She knew him and took advantage of the fact he didn’t place her. This was the second time he got burned on the benefit of the doubt and losing control. This was the second time he wanted her and lost her. There would never be another time.

  “No, she’s gone.” Riley never existed and he let go of Margaret long ago.

  Chapter Eleven

  Riley sat crossed legged on her bed staring at a white file box and willing herself to remove the lid.

  Tomorrow she needed to turn in her interview, and tomorrow Mike would return to Dallas, yet here she sat doing nothing except trying to confront the box that represented her past. She supposed she never faced it. Instead she locked the years and her identity away.

  Not wanting to waste one more second of her life, she hit the lid off the box, gathering enough courage to lean forward and peek inside. Every high school memento she cared to keep was tossed inside. The diploma they had mailed to her, some report cards, and a few papers.

  She slipped out of the club yesterday, managed to somehow hail a taxi in Los Angeles, and escaped to her apartment. The moment she entered, her mind started on a feverish playback of the last few days.

  She got everything she wanted. She made him want her and received all her answers. Her plan went perfectly.

  Of course, there were two minor issues she didn’t take into account. Her body wanted Mike Thomas. His arousal drove her crazy, she wanted him to throw her down on any available surface and quench the yearning she had for him. Part of her was relieved they never made love.

  She clenched her teeth. The second, more major problem was she wanted to make love to Mike, not have sex, not a one night stand, not a quick jack off. She wanted him and she cared for him. If he returned just one time, she would do whatever he said.

  “Fuck!” She hit the box, causing it to tumble off the bed and spill its contents.

  Seventeen-year-old Mike was gone, in his place a successful businessman. One who tried to give her what she wanted, only she ref
used to accept his gift.

  In contrast, the seventeen-year-old Margaret remained alive, well and still enacting her own brand of grudge holding. No matter what she did to make herself go away, she was still here.

  The bright red cover of her senior yearbook caught the corner of her eye. She wrinkled her nose, stretched and picked it up, thumbing through the pages for the first time. She only got the book because her Aunt told her she would want the memento one day. Well, she had come home, threw it in the box with the rest of this junk and never even cracked the spine. None of the signatures mattered, because it didn’t have the one she wanted.

  She got to the pictures of the senior class and turned to her page. Much to her Aunt’s dismay, she didn’t tone herself down for the photograph. The hair was one thing, but the makeup rendered her unrecognizable, the same way actors hid in a play.

  “No wonder he didn’t know me now.” This was how she wanted to be remembered…or forgotten.

  She threw the book across the room. It landed and skidded to a stop near her closet. She scanned the rest of the keepsakes. Her focus landed on the essay Mike made his notation on. His hidden messages, just like the flowers.

  She froze.

  Secret notes, his little modus operandi. Her heart beat loud enough to thump through her head. She tumbled out of the bed, kicked the box and all the other junk with the yearbook and ran to the living room for her purse on the coffee table.

  Without caring how many more messes she made, she turned the purse over. Her wallet, her shirt some change, her makeup bag, two condoms, a pen and a small pad of paper scattered across her Persian rug. She shifted through the contents.

  Nothing she didn’t put there herself was in her bag. No secret message, nothing. How would he have managed that feat with his hands on the back of a chair anyway?

  She sat down on the rug and something else came into her view. The flowers from their night at the beach and the bear he gave her before she destroyed everything.

  She wanted to believe it was trite, predicable, overdone. “It was nice to be the girl for once.” She leaned back on her couch. While she had been on many evenings out with men, that night he took her for a walk, dinner and dessert was her first date.

  Mike ended up taking her on her first date after all.

  He finally made good on his promise.

  She shut her eyes not allowing herself to give in to the need to hug that stupid stuffed bear.

  The hours of no sleep washed over her and her body waived the proverbial white flag in defeat. She didn’t move, only lay there staring at the inside of her eyelids. Maybe her loss all those years ago was her fault, maybe it was no one’s fault. Maybe it was a lifetime ago and didn’t matter any more.

  Riley messed this one up. Not Mike, not Margaret. She owned it and she could never see him again, even if it was just to apologize.

  The pounding on her door caused her to shoot upright, her heart cramping as her muscles filled with adrenaline. She shook at the unexpected intrusion. She put both hands over her chest.

  “Who’s here?”

  “Riley!”

  “Mike?” She braced herself on the table and stood.

  “Riley!” He pounded again.

  Before her neighbors called the police or security, or worse, she stood and rushed over, fumbling with the lock until the damn door did her the favor of releasing itself.

  Mike hit the door open and pointed at her. “May I come in?”

  She stepped back. No matter what, she deserved whatever he was about to say to her. Actually, he deserved the truth.

  He entered, closing the door behind him.

  His cologne filled the air, spicy, citrus, expensive, but rather than the perfectly fitting suit, or designer outfits he wore on their nights out, he was dressed in faded jeans, a black t-shirt and a grey hooded sweatshirt. If she blurred her vision she could see him fifteen years earlier wearing the same ensemble. She blinked. The Mike she wanted and couldn’t have was the Mike of the here and now, not the Mike from a lifetime ago.

  Yes. She needed to tell him. This entire time one of them had been working with an unfair advantage.

  “Mike.” Her tongue seemed to have turned into some uncomfortable sweater material scratching against her mouth. Where did she start?

  He held his hand up.

  She swallowed, grateful for some more time.

  “I needed to see you before I left.”

  She glanced down at herself and put her hand in her hair. When she came home yesterday, she took a shower, but never styled her hair, put on makeup or anything else. She threw on a tattered burgundy terry cloth robe and wallowed. He meant to leave, and she was certain he didn’t plan to give her the ticket to Dallas.

  “You’re fucking beautiful.”

  She looked up to find him examining her. His gaze focused and intense as he took her all in. She opened her mouth to protest, willing herself not to vomit at the situation she created. At the moment, not only did she look like a disaster, but she wasn’t beautiful inside, she wasn’t even pretty, or cute.

  “Don’t talk.” He wiped his brow.

  She sucked in her breath. Her stomach bottomed out from excitement or dread, she didn’t even know. His muffled words gave her a slight bit of hope, but what did she expect after she basically humiliated this man?

  “So, you do listen.” He stepped toward her. “How refreshing.”

  She lifted her face up and raised her hand to brace herself on him.

  “What are you doing?” He narrowed his eyes at her hand.

  “I…”

  “I told you not to speak.”

  She pressed her lips together.

  “Were you going to touch me, Riley?” He leaned back on his heels.

  Fuck, she wanted to obey him, let him take over. She nodded.

  “Then touch me.”

  She caught his gaze. At first, she was going to touch his arm, but she chose to press her palm to his chest, the soft cotton fabric, a complete contrast to his attitude. With her actions, she tried to show him what she wanted, but there were too many things she needed to say first.

  “Unbelievable.”

  Her body burned. There was the chemistry again. The electric something that made her crave him. She lifted her eyebrows, silently asking her own question.

  “It’s unbelievable that I’m here. Unbelievable that you are obeying me.” He tapped his foot. “It’s unbelievable that I am fucking turned on by nothing but your hand on me.”

  She focused on his mouth, but toyed with the pull-tab of the zipper on his jacket. If she kept quiet she could live the fantasy a bit longer.

  “Where did this Riley go when I told you not to leave yesterday?” He closed the slight distance between them.

  She motioned toward her mouth, reminding him of his own rules, grateful for them and thankful for the deal she made with herself before he arrived. Yes, she would do what he said.

  “So now you’re being good?”

  She answered with a one sided smile.

  “Do you want me to leave?” He curled his arm around her waist, pressing their bodies together.

  She paused, locking her focus on the small bit of black t-shirt showing from under the jacket. No matter what her decision, she could never see him again after today. The idea of one night with him was better than living without the chance. She shook her head.

  “Look at me when you answer.”

  She faced him and her choice.

  “This time it will be my way.” He put his hand over hers. “You will listen, and in turn I will give you the benefit of the doubt one last time.” He removed his hand.

  Her way didn’t work well for them. Yes, she cared for him, but she also wanted him. Before she could overanalyze his cryptic words, she yanked the zipper down.

  His jacket opened and he let go of her and took it off, throwing the garment to the floor. He grabbed by the waist once more. “The only sounds you will be making is screaming my name when
I make you come.” He crushed his lips to hers.

  Minutes before, she was certain she would never experience Mike’s kisses again. She closed her eyes, and steadied herself by taking hold of him, gasping when his bare arm met her fingertips. Both times they were together he wore long sleeved shirts and she never appreciated his muscles, the way they tensed and relaxed as he moved.

  He took his opportunity, capturing her tongue and guiding it to his.

  She tried to concentrate, remember every second. Yesterday she almost thought they could do this, but now she knew it was impossible.

  Now his taste would go down as a delicacy she would never have again. Yes, others would come close, but it would never be an exact match. She ran her tongue over his teeth, making sure to outline his one crooked signature. With her eyes closed, the room seemed to twirl around her, making her light headed. Her knees gave out.

  He moaned in response to her attention, tightened his hold on her and guided her to the carpeted floor.

  “Riley.” He positioned himself on top of her.

  At last his weight was on her. He was a man through and through, hard in all the right places, solid, strong. She went to say his name, but stopped.

  “Are you ready to start screaming my name?” He leaned up to take off his shirt.

  She inhaled and took in his chest. A hint of hair and a lot of muscle. Again, all man, and again, she nodded.

  In an unexpected move, he broke eye contact, sweeping the palm of his hand over her cheek, down to the crook of her neck. “I would have never guessed.”

  Her heart swelled at his soft tone. Still trying to obey his commands, she slid down until he looked at her.

  His eyes darted to different parts of her face. For one brief moment she swore she saw a hint of recognition.

  Rather than the deep kiss she anticipated, he brushed his mouth against hers and made his way up to her ear. “I always want you.”

  She bit her lip at the shivers he created through her being, and imagined him saying he always wanted her. Spent fifteen years thinking about her.

  Whatever happened, whatever the outcome, she swore to herself she would give both of them this night, tell him the truth, and give him one last thing he deserved to hear from her after all these years.