Shouldn’t Have Gone

by Mara Lynne

And though he wants Angel to recognize what she’s losing, he loves her so much that he does not want to continue punishing her.

  “It’s time to let go,” Damien says, freeing himself from Mary’s embrace. “I just want her to be happy.”

  “And what about you?”

  He shrugs his shoulder weakly.

  I don’t know.

  “Find my own happiness, maybe.” Laughter forces its way out of his crammed chest.

  “You’d give up just like that?” Mary stands on her feet. “To get things straight, son, I don’t like that woman. I still think she’s not good enough for you or for our family…”

  She sees Damien shaking his head.

  “Wait, I’m not done yet,” she continues. “Perhaps she’s not good enough for me. But now I realize that if she’s the only one who can make you happy, who am I to stop you? After all, you’re my son, and all I want is for you to be happy.”

  “Thank you, mother. But this has to end, and I choose this way.”

  Chapter 20 – Telling Him

  Damien’s car pulls in the driveway of Hunter’s mansion with his hands fixed on the wheel and his eyes not leaving the still portico columns.

  Angel starts to unlock the car’s door and tells him thank you, but he doesn’t budge. But when she is about to toss the door open, that’s when he finally speaks. “You’re not changing your mind, are you?”

  She answers him by crossing the car’s door and heading straight to the foyer without looking back. It’s only when she has traversed the door-sill that she’s able to breathe freely. It took her more than all the courage she could muster to walk straight and pretend she did not hear him. If she looks back, she’s going to ruin things, she’s going to ignite hope in him, which must not happen.

  As she reaches the stairs, she finds Paul walking into her direction.

  “Did Damien Etheridge bring you here?” he asks.

  “Yes.”

  “Where is he then?” His eyes roam around.

  “I suppose he left already since you can’t find him,” she answers sharply.

  Paul grimaces but admits defeat by nodding.

  “Is Hunter back?” she asks.

  “Yes, Ms. Mohr.”

  “Is he in his room?”

  “No. He went somewhere else.”

  “Where?”

  “Some place where there is good wine, most probably.”

  Angel struts her way upstairs feeling the sting of Paul’s gaze. She does not understand the sudden change in his approach, which appears to her be a little incisive, and his tone of speaking cold. What has gone wrong with Paul?

  As she enters the bedroom, she finds it free of human flesh but Hunter’s luggage carefully placed at one of the corners.

  “Ma’am?” A maid comes in. “Shall I prepare something for you?”

  “No, but thank you, Liza,” she says as she strides toward the walk-in closet to fetch herself a dry towel. “I think I’d tire myself in the pool.” She needs to do something to put her to sleep. Thoughts of Damien and the internal battle between her love for the two men still plague her.

  She has chosen already. She picked Hunter, but why can’t she put herself at peace? Damien promised, and she trusts him to fulfill it.

  Now in her swimming attire, a blue strapless two-piece bikini, she drowns herself under the warm water of the pool the size of a high school basketball court. The indoor pool located in the south wing of the mansion is exhilarating, facing the great view of the bustling city in broad daylight. A huge open balcony sits next to the pool that lets her see the blue sky and permeates the room with sunlight. She rests her head on her arms laid atop the granite gutter and watches the clouds move with the eastern winds. It brings her an almost hypnotic sensation as the warmth of the water adds to the therapeutic effect.

  Should she tell Hunter everything now?

  Will this put her at ease?

  Will this eliminate the worry in her heart if she tells him about Damien?

  But she could only think of how Hunter would react. Telling him will ruin his wonderful relationship with his brother. He loves him so dearly, and when he finds out about what she had with him, all will change. She cannot dare close her eyes to imagine how Hunter’s face will be like.

  Paddling out to the open water, she floats on her back, gazing at the glass roof that allows her to see the sky. Her arms feel the motion of the water and its heat, slowly pulling her to sleep. Although it’s a remedy to her crowded head, she could not fall asleep, not when it might cost her life.

  The water is carrying her, keeping her afloat. Staying calm like an expert swimmer, she remembers when she first learned to swim back in middle school. She was a good swimmer as her Physical Education teacher would say, but it now appears that Angel has forgotten some of the basics. All she could do is float on her back and flutter her limbs to keep her moving at a snail’s pace.

  A huge splash of water comes from her left side, and causes her to drop her rhythm as it slams her straight to the face, blocking her eyes, her airways, and even her ears. Quickly standing on both legs after she loses her balance, she looks around to find what caused it—or who. But there’s only her in the pool.

  Strange.

  She looks around one more time and finds no one, so she coughs and shakes her head to remove water out of her ear instead, and swims back to the pool wall where the stairs are.

  Just where did that splash come from? she thought.

  Just before she could climb up the stairs and pull herself out of the water, she feels a tight grip around her leg, pulling her back. As the first breath of surprise breaks out of her throat, she finds herself pinned against the pool wall by strong, huge arms that are of Hunter Stone.

  “Surprised, babe?” he asks, grinning. His mouth is just on top of of her. Then he steps a little closer to her, literally sandwiching her between the solid wall and his hardness.

  “Paul said you’d be drinking,” she says. Her gaze never leaving his inviting mouth.

  “I’m sober,” he answers darkly. And not so soon, he silences her with his mouth, exploring her sweetness and wetness with his tongue, yearning for her submission. His fingers run through her wet hair, pulling it back so that he could access her mouth freely. His other hand finds solace touching her skin and her waist, gripping her most sensitive part firmly without plans of letting go.

  When he hears her gasp for air, his groin hardens. He feels himself constricting, revolting to be released, to be warmed, to throb inside her. His hands fall down her bottom just to raise her up to his waist, letting her coil her feet around him. He presses her against the wall, and she moans out of delight when the tiled wall hits her back. Then his burning tongue travels down until he feels her shiver when he reaches the valley of her breasts.

  Her fingers clutch his hair, shoving him deep to her skin, tempting him to kiss every fiber of her flesh without restriction. The outburst of heat all over her causes her to convulse, and her core shudders with intense craving, she thought she’s going to pass out. But Hunter carries her stalwartly, holding her firmly and carefully. His kisses are unyielding, ferocious, and bone-crushing. His grasp causes her limbs to weaken and melt, her breasts to swell, its buds to harden and feel tender, and her core to roast, calling for her to submit fully to him.

  She calls his name, and he responds by loosening the tie of her bikini top. Her breasts are freed, and instead of quivering from the warmth of the water, she feels cold as the fabric is set loose. And yet the cold is fleeting when he squashes her again against his trunk, and she mutters his name like wine in his tongue. His hand boldly seizes her breasts, squeezing them until she cries with tormenting bliss. Then he unties the knots on her underwear until they totally leave her bare. Hunter throws away her clothing as far as her eyes could reach.

  The air thickens. The temperature heats up.

  She squeals when his member touches the sensitive part of her femininity, rubbing it into her slowly. She feels her
self slithering from him, but Hunter catches her instantly and strengthens his hold on her by pushing her deeper into the wall. His rigid member breaks into her balmy, wet, and throbbing wall. She gasps on top of his mouth as the pain he inflicted upon her slowly turns into something beautiful and wanted. Thrusting deeper and deeper into her, he sets the pace of their movement. With water hitting their skin, and her voice filling his ears and the walls of the indoor pool, he’s leading the dance for her.

  Wildly, he drives his mouth crashing into hers, drinking her all in, cutting off her supply of air. But instead of complaining, it seems that Angel is lost somewhere in the sea of lust. She feels him inside her, not a stranger anymore but a welcomed guest—a family she’s willing to take in every single second of her life, though she dwindles like a falling leaf every time he’s inside her, drinking all her strength until she’s ultimately his.

  Wildly, he plunges and plunges into her, and she screams and cries his name—a melody to his ears. Her hands on his shoulders tighten as she feels her strength draining away.

  The growling at the pit of her stomach grows more intense as their union prolongs. She waits for her insides and their call to explode, but she’s still climbing up and up and up, not stopping, running breathlessly. Her heart is pounding as she soars and flies up and up and up.

  She wants this. She loves the feeling. She loves the heat and the sensation of flying like being thrown into the air with no prospects of falling down.

  “Hunter!” she howls as she feels the tip of the volcano boiling, about to burst. And yet Hunter continues to thrust himself into her, gasping and catching his breath. She feels him thumping inside as his heart beats ceremoniously like hers.

  “Ahh!!” And she slams her mouth to his after the nice hot liquid rushes out of her and the convulsing feeling slowly wanes down. He catches her mouth with his and explores her with his tongue. She has reached the peak, the explosion producing ashes that scatter all over her body, yet the remnants still haunt her with delight and desire. Her head floats in the air like her entire body feels, but Hunter is holding her firmly, so there’s no fear of drowning.

  As soon as she breaks the kiss, she finds him completely devoid of emotion except dark wanting. Yes, he seems like he does not want today to end, like he wants more of her, but there’s no joy written in on his face.

  “What’s the matter?” she asks while softly kissing his bottom lip.

  He grunts, never leaving her eyes even for a moment.

  There’s something in them.

  Worry? Doubt?

  She does not know what it is, but she hopes all is fine with Hunter.

  “Hunter?”

  “Is there something you wish to tell me?” His voice is cold and hard.

  Tell him?

  Tell him what?

  His eyes are asking for answers.

  “What is it, Hunter?”

  “Tell me, Angel.”

  “Tell you what?” She thinks she knows what it is, but she’s in full denial to accept what she is about to face.

  “You and Damien.”

  Chapter 21 – Blood Versus Water

  “Say something, please,” he hears her say.

  Hunter stands frozen with his back to her and with only his robe warming his wet skin, his eyes set on the open horizon. A breeze of wind is stirring the strands of hair that fall graciously over his forehead, partially covering his brooding gaze. Angel stands behind him with her hands clenched together, praying for a miracle from the heavens.

  Her words—the truth that left her shaking lips—pain him to the point of his tears trapping themselves at the ducts of his eyes. They burden him extremely, and although he wants to rid of the tears and the pain, his honor wouldn’t allow it.

  “He was my boyfriend,” she said. “I loved him first.”

  He is the reason they broke up… because of his escort deal. He’s no longer surprised. Ever since he saw them two together at the family reunion several months ago, he’s always wondered why Damien was so distant and indifferent. He’s always been enthusiastic about Hunter’s girls, and he would be the first to flirt with them even if they don’t belong to him. Damien would just joke around them, attempting to sabotage his onslaught, the typical adorable bubble head he was not when Angel came with him. He was so silent and unhappy, and cold and remote.

  Now, Hunter knows why. Now, Hunter understands why Angel did not want to do it, why she was always against his proposal, why she was so difficult to persuade. It’s because he is Damien’s brother. It’s because they had something together before. Because she was trying to escape the past, he ruined. There was more reason than mere disgust. It’s because she had loved someone else… it’s because her heart belonged to someone whom he least expected to be his own blood, his own flesh, his very own brother.

  How could he not see it?

  How could he turn a blind eye on it?

  Was he foolish enough to have not noticed how Angel shakes and worries whenever Damien was around like she was afraid to be caught? Had he not noticed how she always asked about his relationship with him as a family? Yes, she could be just worried about that like a typical caring girlfriend, but how could he not see it? Was he too confident to have not seen through things? Was he too in love?

  That night when they had dinner with James and Mary, Angel was flustered. She suddenly looked pale when Damien appeared with Candice bearing the news of their engagement and her pregnancy. What did she feel then? Hunter could only recall the forced emotions on her face and how she tried so hard to look well and smile.

  Damien could be spitting on him now. His brother has been talking about Angel, his only love, the only woman who has caught his heart, who has wrenched and broken it to pieces like no other, the only one who brought him to tears and on his knees, and who have nearly caused his demise. He talked about all this in front of him without having the slightest idea that they love the same person. And all this while, Damien’s been loathing him, cursing him, wishing him ill. He’s even spoken about the man who stole away his love, and foolish he, he did not know it was him!

  They’ve made him a joke.

  Damien could be laughing his ass out when he’s sharing to him his derailed love affair. He could clearly remember that moment. Shoot him right here, he said to him, without missing the heart. Then he’ll be dead, and Damien could get Angel back. How stupid of him to have said that. He told his brother to kill him and take away Angel. What an asshole he was!

  Fuck! He wants to smash his head against something hard. Perhaps the pain would go away if he does.

  He took something so precious from his brother, and he did not even know that.

  He does not understand what he’s feeling. He does not know if he should be angry, or be sad, or just cry. He does not know if he could do three things at the same time. He wants to go to Damien and punch him in the face for keeping secrets from him, for lying in front of his face, for making him a fool. He wants to beat him down until they’re breathless and tired that none of them could get up on their feet. They’ll find out who’s the better and stronger man then.

  And Angel?

  He sighs deeply as he hears her breathing heavily, her suppressed cry hidden by the rustles of the soft wind. Looking over his shoulders, he sees her face all red, her cheeks puffed, and her eyes swollen after being rubbed so hard. She sits on the edge of the divan just a few steps away from the swimming pool where he made love to her.

  He does not know what to do with her.

  She’s crying, and watching her like this is a dagger to his heart.

  How did he know?

  He’s already got a hunch when Damien left England without consent, but he did not believe his instincts.

  Why would Damien leave?

  Candice and the baby?

  Probably.

  But Angel? No.

  But while on the plane on his way back home, he picked up all the missing pieces of the puzzle, sorted them out, and placed them
in the proper places. Right then and there, he knew his hunch could not be just a simple guess; it was something that should not be overlooked. Then pictures of Damien arriving at the Marriot, saving Angel from the press people, only strengthened his gut feeling. It was no longer a theory. He knew instantly that there was more to it—Damien impetuously leaving England, Harrison, and Crawford. His eyes dropped off his sockets when he saw the pictures, unbelieving at first, but when the realization struck him, he knew he just had to go with it.

  Why would Damien leave business for something unimportant?

  Why would he risk a potential game changer for his career if it’s not for something more significant in his life?

  Hunter dreads everything about what he found out.

  He dreads the idea of having Damien as his rival in everything—in his father’s affection, in the family business, and now, with Angel. It sucks to be the second choice in everything. He has always been second in his father’s eyes, the second choice and probably just an alternative in case the rightful heir messes up the business, and now, still and only second in her heart.

  Why can’t he be the first choice for once in his life?

  Why can’t he have something that is solely his?

  Angel… she’s not solely his. She’s Damien first. She’s his first. He could not imagine the thousands of kisses he received from her, the millions of smiles and touches and caresses from her, the infinity of promises and sweet words they exchanged. When he thinks about it, his stomach growls, making him feel sick.

  He wants her all to himself.

  He was this close—just probably a few days or weeks late from having her first.

  But damn Damien! He loves him dearly, but why does he have to take away everything from him?

  “Tell me what Damien did to you,” he plainly says.

  “Did to me? He didn’t do anything, Hunter,” she says, crying.

  “You were alone with him.”

  “Yes, we were but…”

  “But what, Angel?” His voice grows a little louder.

  “We talked about us. We ended things between us,” she answers. “There’s nothing more to that.”