Kicked Gib out of his own nursery, so he wouldn’t disturb the baby. He remembered that day. The new room was big and cold and the bed so high it had steps. High enough for legions of monsters to hide beneath. Gib had hated his new room. “I thought he was cute. Couldn’t wait until he grew enough to play with me.”
Daphne tilted her head onto his shoulder. “I feel like you’re telling me a fairy tale, and the big bad wolf is about to enter.”
He found it easier to talk without Daphne looking at him. “A few years passed. My parents doted on Gerald. Spoiled him rotten, but still, he was my brother, and nothing could be cooler than that. We went on holiday in Majorca. Lots of cliffs about. Gerald fell.” Gib would never, ever forget the sound of the screams. First his mother’s, when she realized she’d let go of his chubby little hand. Then Gerald’s, as the pain and panic set in. “Broke his leg badly. The bone tore through his femoral artery and he almost died. Needed several transfusions.”
Daphne gasped. “That’s horrible.”
“That’s the tip of the iceberg. We soon realized that thanks to those transfusions, he’d also picked up hepatitis. Two surgeries for his leg, months of rehabilitation, and then the diagnosis. His liver started failing right away. Gerald was always a sickly little kid, from colic to croup to whooping cough before any of this happened. My mother slept in his nursery more often than her own bed.”
“So you two didn’t spend days playing together, like you’d hoped?” She put her arm on top of his, fingers interlaced. As though buttressing them against whatever came next. It gave him the strength to keep going. To remember the hushed, tiptoed, lonely days of his childhood.
“No. No mock sword fights, no racing ponies. But I’d sneak in to act out stories in his room, play with puppets to make him laugh. I was constantly being told off for exciting him.”
“You just wanted to spend time with him. You wanted to be a good big brother.”
Here’s where Gib feared her automatic defense of him might weaken. “The world revolved around Gerald’s doctor appointments, treatments, naps. Whatever I accomplished in school, on the soccer pitch, didn’t matter. Couldn’t compare to anything Gerald was going through.” Wait. He sounded like a whinging brat. “I’m not complaining, mind you. As a grown man I don’t begrudge him, but as a boy? I felt invisible. I just need you to see the dynamics of my family. ”
“Oh, I do. I see that your mother abandoned you while she spent every waking minute with Gerald,” she said hotly. And she certainly understood now why he’d sought out a therapist. Daphne bolted upright, twisting to look at him. “She punished you for being healthy. Made you feel less important. The one thing a mother is never, ever supposed to do. What about your father?”
“Not around much. When he was, Mother filled his ears with all things Gerald. But that was okay. The thing you have to know, above all else, is that I loved Gerald. The only reason I worked so hard at school was to be a good role model for him. To give him a glimpse of the life he’d have once he got better, got out of bed.”
“I’m not sure I want to hear any more. You’re already breaking my heart.”
Gib didn’t want to keep going, either. Keeping the lid on this story would be far easier for both of them. He stared out the window at the brightly lit store windows on Michigan Avenue. Remembered a dark, foggy night in downtown London that changed everything. “One day, when I was twelve, my parents took me to dinner. A fancy restaurant, very grown-up. They informed me I’d be taking some time off from school. Gerald needed a liver transplant. The best plan was to give him a piece of mine. It was my last meal, before going straight to the hospital for the operation the next morning.”
“Wait—they informed you?” Daphne waved her hands in the air, as if erasing his very words. “They didn’t ask? They didn’t sit you down with a doctor and a counselor and work through the situation? They didn’t give you time to adjust to the idea?”
“No. But I wanted to do it. I’d have done anything to save Gerald. It just would’ve been nice to have the chance to get used to the idea. Or to at least be asked. So that on that day, instead of being frightened to my core, I could’ve felt a little brave, too.”
“That’s child abuse. That’s unconscionable. That’s…it’s…I can’t…” she sputtered.
He’d only ever told this story to one person outside his family. His prefect at Eton. Who’d listened quietly, and then called him a selfish bastard. Hearing Daphne’s outrage on his behalf made his head swim. And his heart overflow. “It’s over and done. I’m like a starfish. My liver grew back to full size quick enough. Not worth getting yourself worked up over.”
“Are you kidding? I want to get on a plane, not even surf for a cheap ticket, fly to London and slap your mother across the face.”
“I appreciate it. Really not the best way to spend your money, though.” Especially since he hadn’t finished the story yet. Daphne might still hop on that selfish bastard bandwagon.
“We’ll see. I reserve the right to avenge your childhood.” Finishing her cocoa, she set the cup on the floor. “Or did your parents appreciate you saving Gerald’s life and turn over a new leaf?”
“Not so much. They didn’t have much use for me after that. Gerald was the one who made the miraculous recovery. The one they coddled, even though he’s been perfectly healthy ever since.”
She wriggled up to her knees, hanging on to his shoulder for balance. “No wonder you left England. The ingratitude!”
“Gerald was grateful. For about six months. And then he caught on that he had a get-out-of-jail-free card. Everyone still treated him with kid gloves. As he got older, his antics got worse.” The first time Gerald shoplifted, Gib caught him. Stupid pack of gum slipped in his back pocket. Everyone tries that once. Most people apologize, or get antsy when caught. Gib threatened to tell their parents. And Gerald just laughed.
“Was he making up for all the time he lost while he was sick? Getting a few years’ worth of pent-up juvenile idiocy out of his system?”
“That explains the little stuff. The first few years. But the more he got away with, the more he just kept pushing the envelope. Gerald would break a window, and I’d get the blame. He’d come in three hours past curfew, and it would be my fault. Or not do his homework, and tell the teacher that I’d ruined it somehow. I was the straight arrow, the good student…and the scapegoat.”
Daphne scooted closer. He waited for her to say something. Instead, she stroked a soft hand through his hair in a slow circle. Gib wasn’t so far gone in his story he didn’t notice her breasts almost at eye level. He wasn’t sure which soothed him more.
“I went off to university, and he spun more out of control. Harder for my parents to cover up with me away. Of course, they used that as an excuse. That Gerald missed me so much, he cut class to come visit me. When in reality, he was smoking pot with the girls from St. Andrew’s. Never came within fifty miles of Cambridge.”
Gib turned, pillowed his cheek against the padded backing. Listened to the rhythmic clopping of the hooves. Stared at the ornate stone edifice of the Drake Hotel. Not as pretty as Daphne. But he couldn’t bear to watch her face fall when he spit out the rest. So much for their romantic date. Listening to Ben had gotten him inches away from a beautiful woman, and yet with absolutely no kissing in his future. Spilling his big, secret story had been a stupid idea. There were other things to share with Daphne. She didn’t know the name of his first roommate. Probably hadn’t ever mentioned his white-knuckle fear of caves to her, either.
“What happened, Gib?” she asked in a near whisper. “What made you put an entire ocean between you and your family?”
He’d come this far. Daphne wouldn’t let him out of the carriage until he finished. Usually, her tenacity tickled him. Tonight it just made him tired. “Right after I graduated university, Gerald crashed a car. So freaking high on cocaine that he didn’t even know he’d crashed until the rescue unit pulled him out. He did manage, however, to
muster enough caginess to give them my name instead of his own. Created confusion for a few hours. Long enough for my parents to ring me up and ask me to shoulder the blame. I didn’t have a job yet, so I suppose they thought I had the time to kill.”
Her hand stilled. “That’s not funny.”
No, it really wasn’t. “Gerald was facing jail time. Not a lot, but even a few hours were out of the question. My brother was being groomed for a seat in the House of Lords.”
“Not you? Not the eldest son?”
“I didn’t want a career in politics. Stood up to my father on that point years earlier.” That had been a six-month standoff, alternating between screaming rows and dead silence. “I wanted to work in a business where I could see results. Make people happy. Got my business degree, and interviewed at a dozen different firms before this happened. Testing the waters. Deciding where I fit in the world. A jail sentence would’ve ruined Gerald’s chances.” Gib swallowed hard. Even years later, the words still stuck in his throat. “They ordered me to back his lie. To take his place.”
Daphne was quiet for quite some time. Long enough for him to worry about what she’d say. God knows he’d second-guessed himself for years. Wondered if he should’ve been a better brother. Shouldered the burden long enough for Gerald to grow up and grow out of his self-destructive phase. Made his family proud, instead of making himself happy.
“Your parents—the people who are supposed to have your best interest at heart—they did this? With no regard for how it would ruin your future?”
Gib sucked in a ragged breath. She got it. She got him. That their overprotectiveness blinded them to Gerald’s downward spiral. That even if Gib had taken the blame, Gerald would’ve stayed on the same destructive path, ending up jailed or worse, dead. That if none of them would teach Gerald his actions had consequences, then he would by leaving. Slowly, Gib swiveled back to look at her. “Precisely. It was the last straw. I bolted. Well, after a grandiose speech in which I vowed never to return.”
“Good for you.” She bounced off her knees back onto the seat. “Did you hop a freighter to America that very day?”
“I’m not that skinny kid from Titanic. And this isn’t the Industrial Revolution. There are planes now, you know.”
“Flying coach for seven hours isn’t nearly as dramatic as stowing away near the boiler room. I’m just saying.”
He appreciated her effort to tease him out of a very dark place. But it wasn’t necessary. Knowing Daphne understood, and supported, the hardest decision of his life was all he needed. Happy to play along, though. Maybe she needed a bit of a boost after the emotional steaming turd he’d dropped on her. “I suppose I lacked the appropriate dramatic flair for turning my back on my family in style. Sorry to disappoint.”
“What did you do?”
“Checked into the Cavendish London. Sat in the lobby for hours, staring at the ceiling. Didn’t know where to turn. Heard the concierge mention their manager training program to a cluster of bellhops. The only catch was that it involved moving to America. Permanently.”
“A fresh start. As far away as possible.”
Her understanding rocked him to the core. “Exactly. I interviewed the next day. Trained in Geneva for three months, then Milan for a year, because I spoke Italian.”
“Really?” She gave him a sidelong glance that was pure, unabashed flirting. He’d never seen that look on her face before. Good thing, too, since one look at the blue shimmer between those dark lashes hardened him to the point he had to bunch the blanket over his lap. “You’re full of surprises tonight. Say something.”
“Grazie per essere stato il mio migliore amico.”
Daphne clapped. “Next time we go to Vinci for a wine dinner, I want you to speak in Italian and freak out all the waiters.”
“Anything for the bellissima signorina. I did get a fresh start. And I’d learned an important lesson. Being straitlaced never got me anything. I stopped trying to please other people, and concentrated on making myself happy. Might as well live it up, because I certainly never got a reward for being good. Doc Debra says that’s why I’m, in her words, such a playboy.”
“Did she call you that before or after you screwed her senseless?”
Ah, there was his call-it-like-she-sees-it friend. “A gentleman never tells.”
“You told your therapist this whole thing?”
“No. Just alluded to a few bits and pieces.” And that was the point, wasn’t it? “I’ve never told anyone the whole story. Until tonight. Didn’t want anyone to know. Why expose my sordid past?”
“Especially when a woman’s in and out of your life in less time than it takes to tell the tale.”
Daphne didn’t pull her punches. Gib couldn’t disagree, though. “Didn’t really want you to know, truth be told. But I didn’t think I could keep such a big secret from you any longer. Not if we’re truly going to give this thing a go.”
“This thing?” Another glance from beneath tip-tilted lashes. Another jolt of heat straight to his cock.
“You and me. The relationship upgrade.”
“Oh, that.”
“We are giving it a go, aren’t we? Or have I scared you away? Buggered the second chance you gave me? Because there’s more to this date.” Gib rushed on, before she could turn him down again. Understanding him didn’t mean she necessarily wanted to be with him. Or that she forgave his thoughtless behavior of earlier this week. “Thought we’d go for pizza at Giordano’s after this. Your favorite. And I’ve got three pints of Ben & Jerry’s in my freezer with your name on them. Also your favorites.”
“Tempting. But I don’t feel like ice cream.”
Gib’s mind raced. He could call Sam to see if the bakery had any leftover brownies, or maybe a slice of cake. Or swing by the Cavendish and get the pastry chef to hand over one of his signature pecan bourbon crème brûlées. “What are you in the mood for, then?”
“Something hot.” Daphne threw one leg to the opposite side, straddling his lap. She drew the blanket around her shoulders. Slowly, she lowered her body until her center rested on the part of him already pulsing with need.
“Wait.” God, it killed him to say that. Not sure he’d ever said it before to a woman grinding her crotch into his. “I don’t want a pity kiss. That’s not why I told you my story.”
“I know. You told me to share your vulnerability. Like Samson cutting his hair, or when Arwen gives Aragorn her necklace in Lord of the Rings.”
Both she and Ivy had pestered him for months after every one of those movies. “Damn it, I told you three Halloweens ago. I’m not putting on elf ears and a blond wig just for your amusement.”
“Silly, that’s Legolas, not Aragorn.” Daphne laced her hands behind his neck. “And we agreed earlier that role-playing is down the road a bit. You shared your life with me, Gib. There’s nothing more personal. And now I want to share a different kind of intimacy with you.”
“I don’t need a fucking reward.”
Daphne shook her head. “Not out of pity.” Her eyes closed, and she sighed. “I’ve always admired and respected you as a man. Now that’s changed. My admiration’s tripled. My respect for the struggles you’ve overcome, the road you’ve walked along and the man you’ve become—well, that’s off the charts. I thought I wanted you before.” Her eyes opened, gaze forthright and hotter than a blue laser. “Now, I know I do. I need you. I need to show you how deep my feelings run.”
Well. This night was taking a sharp turn for the better. “Have to admit, I’m a little curious.”
Daphne didn’t require any more encouragement. Her mouth took his in an absolute frenzy of touching and licking. Gib locked his hands at her waist. Didn’t want to take the chance she’d change her mind and slip out of his arms. Not when she was bursting with passion. When he was finally tasting what he’d craved for the six endless days since they last kissed.
She rode him, using the swaying of the carriage to rub against him. Gib couldn’t thi
nk about how his cock already strained to explode. It took most of his concentration to ignore her heat teasing back and forth in between his thighs. So he ripped his mouth away to use his teeth on her neck. No marks. Hickeys were amateur hour. Gib knew exactly how much pressure to use and not leave behind evidence. Exactly how much to make her sigh, arch her back, thrusting those magnificent breasts right up at him.
“That’s…you’re…not half-bad,” she panted.
“This is just the prelims. Where I learn you. Learn to pleasure you. I’m quite thorough.”
He raked his teeth along her taut muscle, nipping and sucking. Daphne thrust her fingers into his hair. Moaned. Gib growled in response, both in promise and possession. Moved down to trace a path along her collarbone. Lingered on the spot her pulse battered against his lips. Ran his hands up her sides until they bracketed her breasts.
Finally licked an arc across the top of one. The softness was like ice cream melting against his tongue. Gib used his thumb to caress the other stiff peak. Daphne writhed against him in a way that almost made him explode right through the heavy denim of his fly. If she kept doing that, his last shard of control would splinter away. Gib thrust his hands down the back of her jeans. Holding tight, he flipped her onto her back. He put one leg on the floor and braced a knee between her legs.
A glance at the windows showed them to be completely fogged over. Good. One big shrug had his coat on the floor. One quick shove wedged the sweater up beneath her arms. It also revealed a powder-blue bra with tiny white polka dots. A tiny bow nestled in the center of its deep plunge. The contrast of the sweetness with the overflowing sensuality of her breasts kicked his heart up to the same rate as during his weekly wind sprints workout.
“Getting an eyeful?” Daphne asked. “Not entirely fair. When do I get equal time to stare at you?”
“After I get a mouthful.” Just to keep her off balance, and despite how much he craved the feel of her nipple against his tongue, Gib put his mouth on her stomach. Traced a damp circle around her belly button. Reveled in the flex of her abs against him. He loved the way she moved with him, offered herself up to him. Considerable practice—which he would not mention to Daphne—made him able to undo her jeans with one hand. The other he fanned lightly across her left breast. Peeling back one side past her hip, Gib ran his finger against the edge of a blue ruffle. Dipped his finger beneath the ruffle, toward the heat—
Friends To Lovers (Aisle Bound Book 3) Page 20
