WORTHY

by Lexie Ray

  I couldn’t help feeling completely and utterly guilty. How would I feel if I were Violet? They’d loved each other. They had to have loved each other if they were engaged to be married. Collier had encouraged me to fight for Jonathan if I loved him. Was someone else encouraging Violet to do the same?

  “What’s wrong?” Jonathan asked, taking my face in his hands. His thumb brushed my scar, but I managed to stay still, even as the familiar shrinking sensation in my stomach urged me to turn to the right, to hide my imperfections from my perfect fiancé.

  “Violet was here first,” I said softly. “She was in your life before me.”

  “Someone else was living this life before me,” Jonathan said, his brow thunderous. “And maybe that man did love Violet. But this man doesn’t, Michelle. This man loves you. This man is going to marry you.”

  I couldn’t help but sob at those words. They were exactly what I needed to hear, a salve on my insecurities. Jonathan crushed me to him, kissing me deeply, winding his hands through my curls, pulling me down on the bed with him. There was nothing better than when I pressed my body against the length of his, felt his attraction to me insistent on my hip. We undressed each other in a flurry of clothing, eager to unite our bodies.

  And when he plunged into me, I never wanted to come up for air.

  He held my gaze as we thrust against each other, the sweat on our bodies making us slip and slide. Looking into his eyes was both powerful and empowering. I could see what he felt for me, the depth of his love for me. His eyes told me that everything was going to be all right.

  And his length inside of me … well, that told me all kinds of different things, all of them flattering and wonderful.

  In and out … he would always fulfill me.

  In and out … he would always support me.

  In and out … he would always be attracted to me.

  In and out …

  I wrapped my arms and legs around him and held him as tightly as I could. Then, with a simple shift of his hips, throwing his weight to the side, Jonathan was on the bottom and I perched astride him, laughing and nibbling his neck, delighted at his trick.

  “Your turn to be on top,” he announced needlessly. The deed was done. I was on top, and now we would do things my way.

  I reveled in the trust Jonathan put in me, realized that it worked both ways. I knew he would never hurt me intentionally, that he was most interested in my pleasure, making sure I was always comfortable and stimulated.

  I loved it when I got to do the same for him.

  I picked up where Jonathan left off, utilizing my strong leg muscles to pump myself up and down, to alternately impale and free my body from his hard shaft. I felt a burn in my hamstrings and realized that I wasn’t getting as much exercise in the city as I regularly did out in the woods. The most strenuous activity I had been participating in had been right here in the bed with Jonathan. I would have to start doing something about that.

  The grind of Jonathan’s cock against my secret inner spot banished all errant thoughts from my mind, dragged me and pinned me in this present. I existed from one breath to the next, one thrust to the next, in and out at my own pace. Jonathan let me do the work, guided me with a hand on either side of my hips, encouraged me with squeezes and caresses and playful pats.

  “You look so beautiful,” he said, smiling up at me. I tilted my head back, closing my eyes as I bared my throat to him. I gasped as I fell backwards: Jonathan had risen to the bait, jerking upward into a sitting position to nuzzle and lick my neck, clasping me to him. I really liked it like this, sitting on Jonathan’s lap, hugging and holding him, his member inside of me. I never felt closer to him than this.

  But the added pressure, the pressing of his cock against my inner walls, was proving to be too much. I shuddered with the faintest of movements. I nearly came undone when Jonathan shifted a little bit.

  “You’re close, baby,” he said, nicking the juncture of my neck and shoulder with his teeth. I shivered and moaned at the ticklish, edgy feeling. The sweat that covered my body was cold. I was so close, closer than should be humanly possible, closer than Jonathan could ever imagine.

  “I want you to come,” he whispered in my ear, his breath tickling the fine hair and sensitive skin there, making me give a strangled sound that was somewhere in between groaning and giggling.

  Then, Jonathan wormed his hand between us and flicked across the surface of my clitoris, barely even touching the electrified nub.

  A few light flicks was all it took to send me tumbling down the rabbit hole, Alice in a wonderland of orgasm, my reality coming unglued and rearranging itself in ways I’d never imagined.

  I was suddenly aware of my ecstatic cries and tried to muffle myself. The house was enormous, but we weren’t the only ones there, after all. While I’d been shrieking, Jonathan had joined me in completion, emptying all of his worries and cares into me in the form of his essence. That was what I wanted. That was what I wanted to be for him. I wanted to take the world away from him and give him bliss. I loved him so much.

  We sat together for many long minutes, his cock still inside of me, resting our foreheads together before Jonathan finally helped me off and laid me down on the bed. He settled in beside me, the lengths of our bodies pressing together, looking at each other calmly, sated. There weren’t any other sounds but our breathing. If Jonathan’s parents or sister were awake, I wouldn’t know. The same went for the staff members. I was starting to understand just why they had to be so discreet. I could holler and carry on all I wanted while Jonathan and I had sex in the cottage. There was nothing in the woods that cared about how loud we were.

  But here in the city, there were so many new considerations. We would have to figure out how to live with them, how to live with other people.

  “I’m going to tell Violet to stop trying,” Jonathan said, breaking my train of thought while tracing intricate patterns on the skin of my shoulder.

  “Are you sure?” I asked, studying his pensive look. Did he really mean that, or was he just trying to placate me? I wanted him to end things with Violet because he wanted to—not because I wanted him to. In fact, I was uncomfortable with wanting that. It wasn’t my place.

  “I think it’s the most humane thing to do,” he said. “I don’t want her to keep hoping that things are going to go back to the way they were. I’m not that man anymore. She needs to understand that.”

  “You don’t think it’ll be cruel, will it?” I hated the idea of leaving Violet with a broken heart, even if she was technically my rival. It wasn’t Violet’s fault that Jonathan lost his memories of their love. It was simply a twist of fate.

  “I think it’s crueler to let her continue to think that I’m going to dump you from my life,” he said. “Because I’m not. I would never do that, Michelle. I love you. And I will always love you.”

  We kissed again, but a small part of me curled up in fear.

  “What is it?” he asked, pulling away. He must have felt me tense up.

  “What if you do get your memories back one day?” I asked, fearful. “What then?”

  “Then we’ll get to meet this man everyone’s been talking about,” he said wryly. “And nothing can change the way I feel about you, Michelle. Nothing.”

  It felt good, him saying that. It was something I needed to hear.

  “All right,” I said, snuggling up to him. With Violet out of the picture, that would be one less thing to worry about. I could focus on what I would do with my life, focus on the wedding, focus on the future ahead.

  Chapter Twenty Two

  By the time I woke up the next morning, Jonathan had already left for work, and Lucy had already been up to clean the room. I had muddled memories of Jonathan holding me, kissing my brow before leaving, but I had been so content to remain in slumber. It still felt lazy and opulent to me to sleep much past dawn.

  Here, though, I didn’t have anything to do. I had things that I could do to pass the time, sure, but not
hing vital to contribute. It bothered me, and I hadn’t come up with a solution yet.

  I was just climbing out of bed and slipping into my robe when there was a knock on the door. That was all the warning I got before Lucy came in.

  “Good morning, Miss Michelle,” she chirped.

  “Good morning, Lucy,” I said. “It looks like I slept in.”

  “You probably needed it,” she remarked brightly. “Now, what can I order you for breakfast?”

  “Coffee and oatmeal sounds lovely,” I said, walking around the bed to look out the window. The bedroom window overlooked the courtyard. At this time of morning, people milled around the tables and planters, smoking and chatting. I realized that they must be employees of Wharton Group on break. The idea of work made my fingers itch, made me twitchy and a little irritable. I loved being around Jonathan, and navigating his family and various issues usually took up all my time and energy. But when I wasn’t around him, I didn’t know what to do with myself. I needed something meaningful, some addition to my life that I hadn’t found in the city yet.

  I turned around just in time to see Lucy replace the bedside phone in its cradle.

  “Breakfast will be right up,” she said. “Do you need anything else?”

  “Just something to do with my life,” I said, crossing my arms over my chest. “Any suggestions?” Lucy was the closest thing I’d had to a friend for a long time, I realized.

  “Would you like to go shopping?” she asked, rubbing her chin as she thought. “I could arrange for the car again.”

  “I don’t think there’s a single item of clothing that I need,” I said. “I mean, you’ve seen my closet.”

  “That’s not how shopping works,” Lucy said, wagging her finger. “The last time we went shopping, you had lots of needs. Now, you’re allowed to have wants. Is there anything you want, Miss Michelle?”

  Oh, there was plenty that I wanted, but I was pretty sure you couldn’t buy any of it in a fancy boutique. I wanted Jonathan to get his memories back, but I wanted him to continue to love me. I wanted the Wharton family to accept me fully as his fiancée, and I wanted Violet out of the picture for good—but with no hurt feelings or resentments. I wanted the scar gone from my face and my parents alive again, helping me navigate the intricacies of wedding planning and relationships and life.

  Where was the store for all that? I would shop till I dropped.

  “No, I don’t think there’s anything I want that can be bought,” I said, smiling inwardly.

  “Well, Miss Jane goes to a yoga class every morning,” Lucy said. “I know that it has several different sessions throughout the day. Shall I check the schedule for you?”

  Somehow, I didn’t think that Jane would enjoy me being at her yoga class very much. She would probably be embarrassed of my scar in front of all her posh friends. And I couldn’t say that a yoga class full of rich women and sweaty, uncomfortable bending and floor-to-ceiling, wall-to-wall mirrors sounded fun. Everywhere I bent or turned, I’d see myself, see what other people were seeing. Of course, I could probably wear my makeup and make my scar look a little less noticeable. I bet most of the women would wear makeup to the class.

  “Maybe something a little more private,” I said. “Something where I could exercise but not around that many people.”

  “We could always get the yoga instructor to come here,” Lucy offered. I quailed at what that would cost and what it would make Jane think of me, so timid about going to yoga class that private yoga instructors would have to come to me.

  “Maybe I’ll just go for a walk,” I said. I did want to be more physically active. I didn’t like the thought of sitting idle all day, reading books on my iPad. It was a life of luxury, sure, but I didn’t want to get lazy or complacent. Until I knew how I wanted to spend my time professionally, I needed to find something to fill it thoughtfully.

  “You don’t want to walk around the dirty city,” Lucy said, wrinkling her nose. “The gym in the corporate building has darkened rooms with treadmills. That would be private, wouldn’t it? Just a treadmill to focus on? I’ve heard the gym is nice, that it has a nice view, too.”

  I was used to walking on a trail through the woods, looking up at the trees and down on the ground, hunting for mushrooms and berries. When the sun cut through the foliage overhead, that was a nice view to me.

  “I’ll try it,” I said, smiling. Lucy was trying hard for me. I needed to try hard, too, and give things a chance.

  “Excellent,” Lucy said. “I’ll be doing some things on this level for a little while. Let me know when you’re ready to go and I’ll walk you over there.”

  Breakfast arrived, and I quickly spooned the oatmeal into my mouth. It was delicious—piled with fruit and drizzled with honey. I’d need the energy it gave me for the treadmill, and the caffeine boost from the coffee for an extra boost.

  I was grateful that Lucy would take time out of her busy day to just walk me to a gym as if she were a mother walking her child to school. I realized that it was probably one of her duties to do my bidding, to make sure that I was taken care of, but it still meant a lot to me to have her looking out for me.

  I found a pair of knee-length stretchy pants and paired it with a T-shirt of Jonathan’s. It smelled like him, even though it’d been laundered. Just wearing it was an instant comfort, making me feel like he was there giving me a hug.

  Even though the gym was just in the corporate building, I slipped on a sweatshirt. We’d have to walk across the courtyard, and I didn’t want to shiver my way across in flimsy gym clothes.

  I took a few moments to look at myself in the mirror, to pad some of that magical foundation and concealer and powder on my face. I didn’t care that I was going to the gym with makeup on. It was my camouflage, my bulletproof vest. The gym was a new, unfamiliar environment, and I wanted every protection at my disposal.

  When I walked out of the bathroom, the bed was made and my breakfast tray removed. I wondered if all of the Whartons took their breakfast in bed, or if it was just me. Then again, I wasn’t a Wharton—yet.

  “Ready?” Jane asked, carrying a basket of towels and wipes and soaps that she was about to arrange in the bathroom.

  “As I’ll ever be,” I said, jamming my feet into a new pair of sneakers.

  We took the elevator, which I found amusing—taking the elevator to the gym—but I was with Lucy, who was on her feet all day. She and the other staff members were actually the ones who most often used the elevator in the house. I imagined that they would all be incredibly buff if they used the stairs all day. Incredibly buff and incredibly exhausted.

  We got a couple of curious stares in the courtyard, Lucy in her staff uniform and me with my workout clothes, but I figured it was less about my scar and more about my newness. Everyone was curious about someone they’d never seen before. I just had to give them a chance. It didn’t have to be about the scar all the time, did it?

  I halfway expected to see Jonathan in the corporate building, as silly as that idea was. It was a skyscraper. He could be anywhere. In fact, it was so late in the morning that he was probably out to lunch with Violet. That thought made my hackles rise as Lucy and I entered another elevator in the lobby, rocketing upward with people in business suits and ties. I was minutely comforted by the fact that Jonathan was using the lunch as a way to break things off with her, to set her free, to put her out of her misery. She had been miserable, but she’d also made our lives miserable. I would be glad to be rid of her after today. I felt a rush of gratitude toward Jonathan for having the strength to do this.

  “Here we are,” Lucy announced as we stepped out on the floor where the gym was located. State of the art equipment studded the workout area as a driving techno song with heart-pounding bass beats filled the air. There was a yoga class in session through a door on the left side of the space, and I cringed, wondering if Jane—or worse, Amelia—was in there.

  “Miss Jane always has yoga first thing in the morning,” Lucy
confided. I realized that she was trying to allay my fears and felt yet another rush of gratitude toward her. “The treadmills are through here, up next to the window.”

  The machines were the latest models, the kind that had a television you could watch as you exercised. But I didn’t understand the point of watching a tiny little screen when you could watch the entire city below. Lucy had been right. The view was magnificent.

  The gym was located on one of the top floors of the corporate skyscraper. Though there were plenty of buildings taller than this one, the gym was positioned to afford a view of the Chicago River and Lake Michigan. It was positively breathtaking. The lake stretched out as far as the eye could see, but I could discern icy patches here and there.

  “It freezes up sometimes during the winter,” Lucy said, her voice more relaxed than I’d heard it before. “It’s the strangest thing you’ve ever seen, waves frozen on the shore, white all the way to the horizon.”

  “It’s beautiful,” I said. “Thank you for getting me here.”

  I regretted the words instantly because they seemed to snap Lucy out of whatever spell she’d been under, reminding her of her duties as a staff member of the Wharton family.

  “There are showers here in the locker room, as well as a steam bath,” she said. “If you’d like, there’s also a couple of talented massage therapists.”

  Bathing in public and then letting strangers rub their hands all over me? No, thank you.

  “I’ll probably shower back at the house,” I said, smiling. “Thank you again.”

  “Enjoy your workout,” Lucy called over her shoulder as she walked out.

  It had been a long, long time since I’d seen the inside of a gym, and I struggled a little bit with all the bells and whistles of the treadmill. Where was the “on” button? That was all I really needed. The treadmill was encouraging me to choose a program. Did I want rolling hills? A fat-burning workout? Interval training?