by T L Swan
He’s still the head of security.
I’m still his boss’ sister-in-law.
But he left me when I needed him the most, and I won’t forget that in a hurry.
Our eyes are locked.
“Why would you think I don’t want you?” he whispers in his heavy South African accent.
I frown, unsure how to answer. Eventually I reply, “Do you?”
He sips his beer, contemplating the right way to answer.
I run my fingers through the water beneath me as I try to articulate my thoughts.
I don’t know what’s going on with us, but I do know I can’t stand feeling the way I feel.
I can’t go on without him giving me the answers I need. He’s a strong man who doesn’t show his true feelings, but what happened to us? How do you go from passionate lovers to being nothing without even a conversation?
There was no fight, no discussion. Just silence.
He doesn’t answer my question. His jaw clenches as his gaze holds mine, my eyes search his.
What the fuck is going on with him?
Does he want me to beg?
Answer me, damn it.
I climb off the inflatable mattress and make my way to the pool steps. I want to be the one who ends the conversation, not the other way around.
Who was I kidding?
I’m the only one in this conversation. I slowly walk out of the pool, and his hungry gaze drops down my body. I bend and pick up my towel to wrap it around my waist, and with one last lingering look I walk inside.
His refusal to address our issues infuriates me.
It hurts me, and it makes me wonder if everything we shared was some kind of illusion.
I know he’s strong. I know he’s not a talker. But those nights in his arms were filled with tenderness and love.
Where is that man?
Because I want him back.
I lie in the darkness at 1:00 a.m. The sound of the ocean drifts through the room and the soft breeze rolls over my body. As usual, I’m torturing myself with thoughts of Ben Statham and his beautiful body. Where is he now? Is he asleep?
The last time we were together I told him I loved him. I never meant to, but I couldn’t help it. I was all soft and emotional from my orgasm-high, and the words just slipped out.
Is that why he ran?
I blow out a deep breath and stare at the ceiling as I go over that last night we spent together for the ten-thousandth time.
If I knew it was to be our last night together I would have done more, said more,
done anything to make him stay.
The door opens, and I roll over. My heart catches in my chest.
“Ben,” I whisper.
He walks in and closes the door behind him, his hands clenching at his sides. He seems nervous.
I frown into the diluted light as I watch him.
“I wanted to see you,” he whispers.
I lie still. He can do the talking this time.
“I look at you like I want you…” He pauses, and clenches his hands at his sides. “Because I do,” he whispers.
I frown.
“You have no idea how badly I want you, Bridget, or how hard it is for me to stay away.”
“Then why? Why are you doing this to us?” I whisper.
He sits on the side of the bed and cups my face in his hands, his eyes searching mine in the moonlit room as his thumb gently dusts over my bottom lip. He hesitates, and frowns as if pained. “I’m not who you think I am.”
I sit up, resting on my elbow, and I frown as I watch him. “Are you married?” I whisper. Oh, no. My heart starts to hammer. He has a whole other life in South Africa, doesn’t he? I have no idea what’s going on at home for him.
He shakes his head, and a soft smile crosses his face. “No, I’m not married.” He frowns harder, and leans in to kiss me softly. “But I’m unavailable to give you my heart.”
Tears fill my eyes.
He shakes his head. “Please.” He pauses. “Know that I love you, Bridget.”
“Ben,” I whisper. “What’s going on? Talk to me.”
He leans in and sweeps his tongue gently between my lips, and I scrunch my face up to fight the tears.
It’s there again; the urge to tell him that I love him.
This man makes me so weak.
I sit up and wrap my arms around his broad shoulders. We kiss slowly, and I feel my arousal start to rise.
“I’ve come to say goodbye,” he whispers against my lips.
“What?” My eyes search his again. “But you said—”
He cuts me off. “I can’t be who you want me to be, Bridget.”
“Yes, you can, Ben. You’re who I want,” I whisper angrily. Damn it, I hate this sneaking around shit. I can’t even raise my voice the way I want to.
He runs his thumb over my cheekbone as he studies my face. “I have a past, Didge, one that I don’t want to ever catch up with you. I won’t bring that into your life.”
I shake my head. “What are you talking about? We all have pasts. We can work it out together, Ben.”
“Goodbye, Bridget,” he whispers sadly before he tries to stand, but I grab his wrist.
“No. Don’t go,” I beg as I lose control. “Don’t leave me. I love you.”
He bends and kisses me gently. “Remember me with love, angel.”
I stare at him through my tears.
“I love you,” he whispers.
With one last, lingering kiss, he stands and leaves my room without looking back.
I stare at the back of the door after it closes behind him.
No.
That didn’t just happen.
Despair fills me.
I curl into a ball. My heart physically hurts in my chest, and I weep.
1
Five years later
I smile at my beloved sister across the backseat and I squeeze her hand. “God, it’s so good to see you,” I whisper.
Tash smiles sadly. “It really is.”
“How long has it been since we were in the States?” Abbie frowns.
“Five months.” Natasha sighs as she blows out a deep breath. “But remember, you’re coming over for Thanksgiving.”
“Try and stop us,” Abbie murmurs as she reapplies her lip gloss. She rolls her lips as she studies her reflection in her compact mirror.
We’re in the back of Natasha’s car on our way to a cocktail bar to meet the boys. Natasha, my sister, has lived in the United States with her husband, Joshua, and their children for five years, and now she’s come home to Sydney, Australia, for a family wedding tomorrow. I’ve been so excited to have her home, I haven’t been able to sleep all week.
Our best friend Abbie is with us, along with Natasha’s two security guards who are in the front. Max is driving, and Anton is in the passenger seat.
Joshua, Natasha’s husband, is an app developer who hit the big time. Security is ridiculously high around her and their kids after everything they’ve been through.
Tash holds her hands in the air in an overexaggerated gesture. “So, tell me everything. What have I missed?”
I shrug. “Well…” I glance at Abbey. “I don’t know.”
“I can’t wait to meet your new boyfriend, Didge.” Tash smiles.
I smile. Everyone calls me Didge. It’s short for Bridget.
“I can’t wait for you to meet him, either. He’s coming to the wedding tomorrow.” I smile proudly.
“Great.” Tash beams.
“Eric is…” Abbie pauses and narrows her eyes as she thinks of the perfect analogy. “You’ll hate him, Tash.” She smirks.
My mouth drops open, but I’m unable to contain my broad smile. “You will not.” Bloody Abbie and her far too honest opinions.
“Will, too,” Abbie snaps. “Wait till you meet him. He spends more time looking in the mirror than looking at Bridget. He thinks he’s Starsky or Hutch, or some shit.”
Natasha’s eyes flicker to me in qu
estion.
“He’s not that bad.” I laugh. “And yes, he’s a cop… and he’s smoking hot, so he’s got a lot to love. Keep your opinions to yourself, Abs. Please remember you’re dating a gorilla on steroids. You can’t exactly judge.”
Natasha and Abbey laugh, and I glance up and see Max smirking in the rearview mirror.
“Yeah, well, that gorilla is an animal. I’m so down with gorillas.”
Tash and I smirk because Abbey is a slut—a bona fide, self-confessed, slut. She loves men and sex, and she’s enjoying every perk of being a super attractive single woman. Her hair is long and golden, and she has a kicking body that she shows off unashamedly.
She has every man she meets eating out of her hand.
Her mantra is no boyfriends, no strings… just fun.
And, boy, does she have the fun. I don’t know how she has the energy, to be honest. It seems like a lot of work.
The car comes to a slow crawl before it stops, and we climb out to make our way to the bar where we’re all meeting.
Joshua, Cameron, Scott, and Adrian are all sitting at a table, and we make our way over.
“Didge!” Cameron calls as he grabs me in a headlock. I laugh and make my way around the table to kiss them all on the cheek.
“Oh, it’s so good to see you all. I’m getting a drink first and then I’ll be right back.” I smile.
I walk to the bar, buzzing because my family is home and it feels so damn good.
We’re in for a great weekend. They’ll all get to meet Eric tomorrow and things are going to plan.
“Hello, Bridget,” a familiar voice sounds from behind me.
I turn in a rush and then step back in shock.
Dear God…
The blood drains from my face.
“Ben?” I whisper. He towers over everyone around him and, as if my body recognizes the strength he holds, it immediately weakens.
I stare at him for a moment, trying to register what I’m seeing, and my heart starts to hammer in my chest. “Ben?” I say again with a frown before I shake my head. Well, blow me down. “What…” I have no words. “What are you doing here?”
His gaze moves down my body. “I’m here for you.”
I frown. “What?”
“You heard me.”
I raise my eyebrows. Is he fucking kidding me? “You came all the way to Sydney to see me?” I ask sarcastically. Funny that, because the dipshit hasn’t even called me in five years.
I glance over at my group of friends and fold my arms in front of me defensively. “You needn’t have bothered,” I snap.
He smiles sexily, and I narrow my eyes. Don’t get fucking cute now, asshole.
I’m so over you.
“When I got the invite to come here, the first thing I asked was is Bridget going I wanted to catch up and see how you’re doing. It’s been a long time.” His eyes drop to my lips and it makes me uncomfortable. Don’t look at me like that.
My eyes widen with horror. “Y-you’re coming to the wedding?” I stammer.
He raises an eyebrow. “I flew in this morning especially for it.” He glances over to our table. “I’m here with Stan, Cam, and Murph. A reunion, so to speak.”
I stare at him as my brain tries to keep up.
Oh, no. No, no, no. I’m introducing my new boyfriend to everyone this weekend. I don’t need my long-lost asshole ex thrown in the mix.
Damn it.
This is so fucking typical.
Shit.
I lift my chin defiantly. “You should have checked with me first to see if that was okay.”
My eyes roam over his broad chest beneath his black T-shirt, and then I find myself glancing down to his faded blue jeans that fit snugly in all the right places. His strong forearms are screaming for more focused attention, but I refuse to give in, and I quickly snap my eyes away.
Why does he have to be so gorgeous? It’s annoying. Surely, he should be bald, fat, and ugly by now.
He smiles cheekily. “And is it?”
I frown. “Is it what?”
“Is it okay that I’m here?” he asks sarcastically.
“No.” I flick my hair over my shoulder in annoyance. “Actually, it’s not. You should crawl back under the rock you came from.”
He smirks and gives me that cheeky look he’s perfected so well.
I begin to perspire as I look around at my surroundings.
Don’t start with your being hot now. I exhale in annoyance because I don’t need this crap. I glance down at my jeans and my off–the-shoulder flowing cream top. Why didn’t I wear something sexier tonight? I knew I should have worn the red dress.
I internally kick myself. Stop it!
Who cares what you’re wearing? Ben is an asshole, you have a boyfriend, and this is a fucking disaster.
His dark eyes return to focus on my lips, and I feel the nerves in the pit of my stomach start to simmer.
Oh, I remember that look.
“What will it be?” the bartender asks.
I lean over the bar. “Can I have three margaritas, please?” I smile. It’s the cute bartender serving—the one we often see here.
He winks with a friendly smile and turns to make our drinks.
Ben shuffles around and then stands directly behind me. Close… too close… and I feel his hard body fit snugly up against mine. He’s warm and hard.
I close my eyes as my body starts to thump.
It’s just a tight space, that’s all. He’ll move in a minute, I tell myself.
Why does his body radiate so much power?
Somebody pushes us from behind. His hand drops to my hip as his body pushes up against mine with force.
I stand up from my leaning position in a rush.
“Whoa, baby,” he whispers in my ear from behind. His body is snug up against mine and his hand is still firmly on my hip, his lips at my ear.
“Ben,” I announce as I look straight ahead to the bar. “Get your hand off my hip and your lips away from my ear before I glass you.”
He chuckles, and I feel his breath dust my neck. “You’ve still got that snarky sense of humor, I see.”
I want to reply, and you’ve still got that big beautiful dick, I bet, but I stop myself.
He moves closer and his lips brush my ear again. “It’s good to see you, Bridget. You feel so good pressed against me.”
I swallow the lump in my throat. Christ Almighty.
That’s it.
I pull away from him in a rush. “Listen, Ben. You don’t get to touch me anymore. In fact, you don’t even get to talk to me.”
He smiles a slow, sexy smile and steps toward me. “Really?”
I nod nervously and fold my arms in front of me. “Really. I have a boyfriend,” I spit.
He steps forward again until his body is towering over mine, and he bends and leans in to whisper in my ear. “Bring him to me. We need to meet.”
2
“Bring him to me?” I repeat with a raised brow. Is he kidding me? “What are you, Henry VIII now?” Unable to help it, I smirk. “What are you going to do, Ben? Behead him?”
His eyes hold mine for an extended moment. “Possibly.” He must realize how ridiculous he just sounded because he smiles sexily. “It’s tempting.”
Our eyes lock and a ripple of electricity zaps in the air between us.
Cut it out.
Silence hangs, but he finally breaks it. “It’s good to see you, Didge. I’ve thought of you often.”
My eyes search his. I get a lump of regret in my throat and I just want to shake him for putting me through hell.
I force a smile. “You, too.”
I don’t mean it. Seeing him only makes it hurt that little bit more, knowing we didn’t work out. Unfortunately, I wasn’t imagining the chemistry we had. I always had hoped that maybe it had been a dream. I thought that if we ever saw each other again it would be like seeing an old friend in the street—I would feel nothing and be happy that I had moved on and ma
de a life without him.
That’s not even close to the truth, though. I feel mad, hurt, and it feels like only yesterday that he left me without a care in the world.
Time has changed nothing. In fact, everything feels magnified.
Damn it!
You’re an idiot, Bridget. Stop it. It doesn’t matter; it’s in the past.
He hesitates for a moment as if wanting to say something. I feel like I do, too, but I don’t know what. I mean, there obviously isn’t anything to say.
So many things have changed since he left, but one thing sure hasn’t: That feeling of affection between us. I just want to wrap my arms around him and tell him I missed him. I frown; the magnetic pull to him is weird… and strong. So strong.
Snap out of it, stupid.
He’s an asshole.
“Here you go.” The bartender smiles as he hands over the tray of margaritas. I smile, pay, and lift the tray to turn back toward Ben. “I’ll see you back at the table?” I ask.
He nods once, clearly distracted, and I make my way through the crowd with my heart hammering in my chest.
Fucking hell. Calm down, I try to tell myself. It’s okay. Just because he’s here doesn’t mean anything.
Stop overreacting, Bridget.
I place the tray on the table and fall into my seat between Tash and Abbie, passing them their drinks. Cameron is telling a story, and everyone is listening attentively, laughing when appropriate, and I find myself looking around the table with a broad smile on my face. I’m here with my favorite people in the whole world tonight. Tash and Josh, Cam, Adrian and Abbie—it doesn’t get better than this. With Cam, Adrian, Josh, and Tash all living in the States, the times when we get together are sacred.
My people. My favorite people.
Adrian reaches over, takes my hand, and squeezes it in his reassuringly. My beautiful Adrian.
When he broke up with his boyfriend, Nicholas, and I broke up with Ben all those years ago, we became really close. We even lived together for six months in L.A. when I moved in with him. We speak daily, and he’s such a blessing in my life. He knows that I’ll be rattled from seeing Ben. I don’t have to tell him what I’m thinking… he just knows.
I wonder if Tash knew Ben was coming. Why didn’t she say anything?
