Bleeding Hearts: The Complete Duet

by A. Zavarelli

  “It’s killing me,” he rasped, nestling his face against my tummy. “It’s killing me that I can’t protect you, Brighton. That I almost destroyed the only good thing I had left in my life.”

  I remained as still as a statue, but the tears were flowing down my cheeks. I didn’t know what to say. What to do. I didn’t feel strong anymore. I felt like I couldn’t go on without him. He loved me fiercely. Obsessively. Rivalled only by the intensity which I felt for him. So why couldn’t we be together?

  “I can’t believe we made this,” he continued. “And that I almost took it away with my stupidity. I understand why you hate me, Brighton. I do. But, I don’t want things to be this way.”

  “I don’t hate you, Ryland,” I murmured. “I could never hate you. Even when I really wanted to.”

  He blinked up at me and shook his head. “I thought I could make it up to you. I thought we could get past it. But when I found out you hid this from me, I realized you really did hate me. There was no getting past it.”

  I didn’t get angry at his words because I understood what he was trying to say in his roundabout way. This was Ryland telling me he was sorry. And that I’d hurt him. He’d never admit it aloud, but it was there in his eyes. Over the last two months, I’d watched the blueness of those eyes evaporate to gray. I’d watched him punish himself with whiskey and anger. He was falling apart, and I hated seeing him like this. My normally faultless, beautiful Ryland looked so broken and lost. So fragile and disordered. Neither one of us could continue to go on this way. We had to figure this out, for all of our sakes.

  “I hid it because I didn’t trust you,” I said in a gentle tone. “I didn’t believe that you were done with Brayden. And I didn’t want our baby in the middle of that.”

  “It’s over,” he said resolutely, clutching his hands around my waist. “I’m done with it. I swear to you, Brighton.”

  “I believe you.” I trembled. And I did. Seeing his face now brought me clarity. He would do anything to protect us. Even if that meant giving up his revenge.

  His hands smoothed up my back and then down over my ass, squeezing me as he tugged me towards the edge of the table. There was still a hint of unease in his eyes like he thought I might say no, and if I did, it would break him.

  I reached down and slid my fingers through his hair, smoothing it back into place. That was all it took to bring back the familiar hunger in his eyes. He stood and positioned himself between my thighs, gripping my face in his hands. “I miss you.”

  I made a noise in my throat, and he swallowed it up with a brutal kiss. I clutched at his shirt and pulled him closer, desperately seeking out his warmth. I didn’t even care that we were at the doctor’s office. It didn’t matter where we were, I needed him.

  “Ryland,” I moaned.

  “I know,” he whispered. “I have to be inside of you. It can’t wait.”

  My lips found his throat as he unzipped his pants enough to free his erection and tugged my panties to the side. His hands felt like brands on my body they were so hot, and we were both being clumsy with our movements. His name kept spilling from my mouth in a desperate plea. I just didn’t want him to stop. I didn’t want to spend another day without him. Without this crazy love that existed between us.

  Despite the roughness of his palms, he eased inside of me with gentle control. We both groaned, and then he paused.

  “Is that okay?”

  “God, yes,” I whined. “More please.”

  He rooted himself all the way in and then paused to stare at the place where we were connected like he almost couldn’t believe it was real. I pulled him closer and guided his lips to my neck.

  “It’s real,” I promised. “It’s real…”

  “Never again,” he swore.

  My head shook frantically as I agreed with him. “No, never again.” We would never be apart again.

  He feathered kisses along my skin as he started to move. It was a combination of slow and hard like he wasn’t sure how much I could take. Either way, he’d only been inside of me for two minutes, and we were both on the verge of exploding already. His hands pushed my shirt up over my breasts, groping them with his palms. And then pulled back to gape at them.

  “Holy fuck. They’re huge, baby girl.”

  I laughed. They weren’t that huge, but they definitely felt like it. They’d grown a lot already.

  He flicked his thumbs over my nipples, and I whimpered. I was still super sensitive, and if he kept doing that, I wouldn’t even last another minute. Sure enough, the moment his lips latched onto the lace covered flesh, I started to spasm around him.

  I had to clap a hand over my mouth to keep quiet, and Ryland spluttered in surprise.

  “That was fast.”

  “I needed this.” I pulled his mouth back to mine. “I needed you.”

  My words set him off too, and he twitched and jerked inside of me while he devoured me with his lips.

  “Christ, baby girl. I needed that too. So much.”

  He didn’t move from inside of me, and I was glad. His hands continued to explore my body, his eyes following their movements.

  “You’ve never looked as beautiful as you do carrying my baby,” he said. “There aren’t even words, Brighton.”

  He didn’t have to tell me because I could feel him swelling inside of me again. I didn’t want this to end, but I knew someone would be knocking on the door any minute now. Ryland must have read my thoughts because a moment later, he pulled out.

  “Let’s go home, baby.”

  ***

  Ryland held my hand as we stepped into the elevator. I squeezed back a little tighter than necessary as I waited to see what button he’d push. When he hit the button for his floor, I let out a breath I didn’t know I’d been holding.

  He didn’t say a word as he led me into his apartment, but the moment we were inside, he pulled me into his arms. Soft fingers brushed my cheek while he searched my eyes.

  “I need to know this is what you want,” he said. “Because I’m all in now, Brighton. No more games. If you commit to this, it’s for good.”

  “I’m committed,” I told him without hesitation. “This is what I want, Ryland. You, me, and our baby. That’s what matters.”

  He crushed me against his chest and kissed my temple. “It’s all that fucking matters,” he agreed. “And nothing else is going to change that.”

  I reached for his hand and started walking backwards, leading him to the bedroom. He smirked.

  “I have a lot to atone for, don’t I?”

  “You have no idea,” I said. “My hormones are crazy right now. It’s very possible I might never let you leave this apartment again.”

  Clear blue eyes settled on me with a hint of amusement. “I couldn’t think of anything better.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Ryland

  The weekend passed in a cloud-like dream as I nestled my favorite appendage inside of Brighton again and again.

  See, I could be romantic?

  Under a self-imposed lockdown, we didn’t leave the apartment once. Phones turned off, business neglected, calls unanswered. Nothing else existed. She was back in my arms. In my bed. Back to letting me have my way with her. It was all going swimmingly.

  We hungered for each other. Maddeningly. Obsessively so. But wasn’t that the whole point? Weren’t we all just looking for someone we could fuck until the end of time and chase those euphoric rainbows with?

  For me, I had no further to look than the woman cocooned between my legs at present. Her cheek utilized my chest as a pillow without any protest from me. Strawberry gold spilled down her back in tangled curls that my fingers stroked lazily. The lids of her normally waifish eyes were heavy and drowsy under the weight of contentment. The steady thrum of my heartbeat pulsed beneath her, drugging her with its melodic rhythm.

  I quietly speculated how long it’d be before she was asleep again. I wouldn’t move. I enjoyed this far too much. Even with a dead
arm and a pressing need for sustenance. Now that all was right in my world again, hunger had returned with a ravenous vengeance.

  It was a toss-up whether food should be first on the agenda, or another round of marathon fucking. I thought I’d purged it all from my system only twenty minutes ago, but already my cock was stirring again. Briefly, I toyed with the idea of licking rum raisin ice cream off of Brighton’s every curve and valley. Two birds, one stone.

  The dilemma was effectively quashed when her fingers traced over the scars on my chest, her brow furrowed. That look meant she was deep in thought, which didn’t bode well for me or my needy cock.

  My palms held her against me in a bruising grip, just on the off chance she was rethinking this.

  “We need to talk, Ryland.”

  I kissed the top of her forehead and smothered my face in her hair. “No, we don’t.”

  My lips made a mad dash for her neck, but she stopped me cold.

  “I’m serious,” she protested. “You aren’t going to distract me with sex.”

  Grabbing her hand, I pressed it against the bulge in my briefs and gave her a boyish grin. “C’mon, let’s get frisky, baby.”

  Nothing good could come of talking. I knew this, and yet, she pursed her lips. She usually liked it when I was being smart. Not this time, apparently. Christ, she really wanted to talk.

  “What’s the matter?” I sounded more reluctant than a sixty-year-old nun, even to my own ears.

  Brighton gave me that look in response. The one that told me to quit feeling sorry for myself and suck it up. So I stroked her back in encouragement even though I only wanted to fuck these thoughts right out of her system, whatever they may be.

  “A lot,” she answered. “We have a lot to talk about. But first I want to start with the car crash.”

  My spine compressed, and the aggravation in my tone wasn’t well disguised. “No, Brighton.”

  “There are things I need to know,” she insisted. “I can’t move forward until I do.”

  The tension in my jaw burned all the way down my throat. Six months ago, I’d have told her it was non-negotiable. But as I’d promised you- and her- I was trying to bend. Being the master of your own universe isn’t an easy habit to break. But as I sought refuge in the depths of her hazel eyes, I recognized the significance of her need for this.

  I rubbed the back of my neck. No doubt this was going to hurt like hell. I wished I had some whiskey. What’s more, some rum raisin ice cream. My first plan sounded infinitely better than what she had in mind.

  “What do you want to know?”

  “Tell me what happened that night,” she said. “How you set it up. How it was supposed to go.”

  The rational part of me understood why she was asking, but even now, I pictured her face that night. The blood and the fear. Everything inside of me clammed up, and I felt like a junkie who’d missed his last ten fixes.

  “I know it’s hard for you, Ryland.” She cradled my face in her palms. “But I just need to know.”

  She wanted to know if I had any idea she was in the car that night. I didn’t. I’d never told her because it was irrelevant. Regardless of my lack of knowledge, there was no justification.

  “You knew Brayden would come straight to me,” she pressed. “If he came to California.”

  “I did.”

  She waited anxiously, and I searched her pretty face with my eyes. I was afraid to tell her these things. Afraid she’d only ever see me as a monster who couldn’t be redeemed. Squeezing her hand in mine, I anchored myself with her warmth as I tripped around the words in my brain.

  “I forwarded Brayden’s number to my phone before I left that night,” I told her. “Then had maintenance disable the elevator from reaching the top floor and lock the stairwell.”

  Her face remained a mask of stoicism as she processed my words. I hadn’t a clue what she was thinking. The sadist in me demanded I put a stop to this bullshit at once. Her mouth had so many other beneficial uses than dredging up the past. It was fear talking, okay? Don’t write me off completely.

  “So Brayden wouldn’t be able to contact me,” she reasoned out loud.

  I closed my eyes and allowed my head to fall against the headboard. I’d prefer her impassivity over disappointment any day of the week.

  “I really did have a business dinner that night,” I explained. “Mick was tracking Brayden through his phone. Neither of us anticipated you’d be there with him.”

  “So he didn’t know I was in the car,” Brighton whispered. “Is he the one who ran us off the road?”

  “Yes.” I swallowed. “I called Nicole during dinner, and she told me you were in bed asleep. She’d never lied to me before, so I had no reason not to believe it. Then Mick called me an hour later and told me he’d done what I’d asked. I met him there.”

  Brighton shook in my arms as all of my vile admissions spewed from my mouth like lava. I couldn’t stop them now. She’d asked for it. I wanted her forgiveness. I needed her to wipe my slate clean and anoint me with her purity again. I clutched her tighter, terrified to let go. She was too small and fragile.

  “I had no fucking idea, baby girl,” I choked out my desperation. “I swear I didn’t. I’d never do that to you. You have to believe it.”

  “But you’d do it to Brayden,” she answered. “You wanted to.”

  “Yes, I wanted to.” There was no point denying it.

  “So why didn’t you?”

  I opened my eyes and gazed into hers. Even brimming with tears, they were the most exquisite colors I’d ever seen. The sadist in me thought the tears only made them more so. Crystalline blue tinged with balmy gray and honeyed amber. They held an entire landscape within them- where the mountains met the sea in a collision of drizzling rain and thunder. Nothing else in the world rivaled them. The windows to her soul, they often conveyed her thoughts so openly. But not this time. She was keeping her emotions very close to the vest, and I didn’t like it one bit.

  “I don’t know,” I answered finally. Honestly. I didn’t know why I couldn’t pull the trigger that night. “I kept looking at him and thinking about you. About how much it would hurt you.”

  “And what if you’d done it?” she asked. “Then what would have happened? What was the plan then?”

  “I didn’t have one,” I admitted. Everything I’d planned was only about that moment. The rush I’d feel in those brief few seconds when justice was exacted, and all was right with the world again. I wanted to taste Brayden’s agony. To feel its presence choking the life out of him like I’d felt that night. He was the only one who could pay up. The only one left to settle the score.

  “So you weren’t going to try to cover it up?”

  I hadn’t a clue why this mattered, but I answered anyway. “No.”

  “You would have just gone to prison, lost everything.”

  “If that’s what ensued, then yes.”

  “I find that hard to believe,” she scoffed. “You’ve built an empire. And you would just let all of that go, just to kill Brayden?”

  “My company was built out of necessity,” I replied. “I needed resources to do what I planned. Money, power. It was all a piece of the plan. Not the other way around.”

  “So you spent five years working yourself to death, planning all of this… and now you’re ready to let it go?”

  Her voice was tinged with doubt. I didn’t blame her. She told me earlier she believed me, but she’d always have her reasons not to trust me. We’d probably come back to this dead horse time and time again.

  “I already have let it go.” I grazed her throat with my lips and inhaled her scent tangled with mine. My chest inflated with male pride that she smelled of me. That she looked so beautifully ravaged and thoroughly fucked, by none other than yours truly. It did things to me. And again, the importance of her presence in my life socked me in the gut.

  “I’ll spend every day for the rest of my life proving it,” I murmured.

  �
��But why now?” she asked. “You said you decided before you even knew I was pregnant.”

  My thumb explored the curve of her pretty pink lips, coveting the tiny hitch in her breath when I touched her this way. “I did it for you,” I said. “I almost lost you. And nothing could ever be worth going through that again.”

  She blinked away her tears and nodded in apparent satisfaction as she wrapped her body around me like a vice. “I trust you not to hurt me again, Ryland,” she whispered. “Don’t make me regret that.”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Brighton

  Ryland had all of my stuff moved back into his apartment. I didn’t really see the point since we’d be moving again soon anyway, but he’d insisted.

  And although Emma had been very helpful for the short time that I had her around, he’d also cut back her hours. Now that we were living together, he agreed that I didn’t really need someone with me round the clock.

  It was a relief, and we had a schedule where I could call Emma if I ever needed her for the day. She seemed to be more than happy with the system as well, as opposed to sleeping on Nicole’s sofa.

  I was sewing a lot. Ryland’s donation to Sophia’s Shoes meant there was more we could do with it. Nicole and I were working on expanding and outsourcing some of the sewing projects. But it was still something I enjoyed doing, so I wanted to keep it up for as long as I could manage.

  Now we were sitting in the apartment, at one of our weekly meetings to discuss the foundation. This was one of Nicole’s ideas, but really I thought it was an excuse for us to eat dessert and hang out. I loved it.

  “What about a scholarship program?” she asked, dunking a donut into her hot black coffee.

  She and Matt were both sitting across from me, and he was probably bored out of his mind. But ever since Nicole had warmed up to him being around, he was taking full advantage of it. I’d never seen either of them look so happy, and it made me happy too.