by Autumn Grey
Remington fell quiet as though he was gathering his thoughts.
“She left you and a nine-month-old baby.” It was question, but also a statement. I was still trying to wrap my mind around the fact that a mother could leave her child, a baby, and go for days without a care in the world.
“Yes. This time she did not return. Her airplane to Paris crashed during takeoff, killing everyone aboard. I remember burying her bones, whatever pieces of her they found. I was so lost after that. I had no idea where my pain began and loss ended. I was a complete mess. I dated women who resembled her or had something that reminded me of her to cope with my loss. Whether it was a smile, their hair, or even the eyes, anything to bring her back to me in one way or another. My mother took care of Adrien and me for a while.” He inhaled deeply as if to steel himself for the next words, and shook his head. “One day, I woke up and it finally hit me, the depths I had gone to deal with all that. I didn’t like the kind of person I had become, and my boy needed me. I cleaned up my act and tried to be the best father and son I could be.”
“Oh, my God, I’m so sorry, Remington.” I turned around and quickly hugged him, not caring that the room was full of strangers. I could only see him, feel his pain. “How did you do it?” I asked. “How did you finally pick up the pieces of a shattered life and go on?”
“Adrien,” he answered simply, took my hand and walked around with me around as two groups left the room. “And I had already promised myself before my son was born that I wasn’t going to be the kind of father mine had been.”
I wondered how a love could be so deep, so potent, that it crippled a man seemingly as strong as Remington. She must have been one special woman to occupy his heart and soul. I tightened my hold around his hand, hiding the slash of envy tearing my heart, and closed my eyes, wishing that horrible feeling away.
Jesus, Selene. The man is probably still hurting.
There must be a reason he seemed angry and hurt when I asked him about his wife on our first dinner date. Then I remembered the letter, referring to the fact I looked like his wife. Would it be tactless if I asked him about that?
“One afternoon, a woman approached me outside the townhouse and introduced herself as Madame Girard. Her husband had worked with Colette and had been in the same team that had been sent to Chile. The name sounded familiar, and then I remembered Colette had mentioned him quite often.”
For some reason, I felt a sick feeling coil in the pit of my stomach. I couldn’t breathe as I waited for his next words.
“His wife told me Colette had been having an affair with Monsieur Girard for over two years. She had hired a detective to confirm her suspicions.”
“Oh, Remington.”
“After that, I knew there was a possibility that Adrien might not be my biological son. But I didn’t care. He was my son.” He thumped the left side of his chest passionately with a fist. “I decided not to have any tests done. I just knew. My blood runs in that boy’s veins.”
Of course it did. Adrien’s and Remington’s facial features were so similar one would be blind not to see they were blood relatives.
We continued to stroll around the room, my mind in turmoil from what I’d just learned. Now I understood his anger and hurt when we first met, which begged the question . . .
“What did she look like?” I asked. I still couldn’t get that darn letter out of my mind.
He froze mid-step, forcing me to stop as well. He studied me, before exhaling hard. “She was a brunette and with brown eyes. The only thing that was similar was your nose. You know, the slightly upturned tip and your cheekbones. Other than that, you two are different as night and day. You,” he said, tightening his hold on me. “You are the calm to my storm.”
Anger simmered low in my veins. “I asked you if I resembled her before I left your house but you did not tell me the truth.”
He grimaced. “I was afraid if I told you the truth, you would leave. It didn’t matter because you left.” There was no judgment in his voice.
And just like that, I was torn between letting my anger free or leashing it. What did one do when a man served you truth in your face? God, I love this man’s honesty. I felt it required the same amount of truthfulness. Something that had been missing in both of our marriages. “You understand why I left, right?”
He nodded, leaned down, and kissed on my forehead. “I do.”
I huffed out a breath and laughed. Today was taking some very insane, unexpected turns. “You realize we are two somewhat messed-up people?”
“We might be that, but you make me stronger. It sounds insane, doesn’t it?”
“No,” I whispered, pondering his words. “It makes perfect sense. Strange, yet perfect.”
Because it did.
BY THE time we made it to the exit, the clouds were hanging low in the sky and it was drizzling as if to underscore the tragedy of what Remington had told me inside the oval room. My heart still felt heavy for him. There had to be a slice of happiness in his life.
“Do you have any siblings?” I asked Remington.
“Two step-brothers. I hope you will have a chance to meet Luc and Dom.”
I glanced up quickly at this new information, and fought a smile. “Luc and Dom?”
“Lucien and Dominique. My mother married when I was fifteen, to Luc and Dom’s father, Bernard. He was my father in all ways but one.”
“Was?”
“He passed away two years ago.” I heard the wistfulness in his voice. He must have had a good relationship with his stepfather.
I slid my hand into his, twined our fingers together and squeezed them, offering him consolation.
“Then there’s Caleb, my half-brother. We attended a boarding school in Hertfordshire together.”
He fell silent and his mouth tugged down into a little frown. I fought the urge to ask him what he was thinking. Anything to explain his relationship with Caleb. Seriously, this man had gone through so much at such a young age, and as much as I wanted to know more about his past, this wasn’t the place.
I made a mental note to ask him later. Much later. Today’s confessions were enough to drain even the strongest of men.
I stood on my toes, grabbed the collar of his jacket, and pulled him down to catch his attention. He turned to look at me with a million questions swirling in his beautiful eyes. I slid my hand to the nape of his neck, feeling bold, and kissed him, capturing his startled gasp with my lips. When he caught on to what I was doing, his hands cupped my face, returning my kiss.
“What was that for?” he asked when we broke the kiss.
I swept his tousled hair back from his forehead with my fingers, and said, “Even Superman should be kissed senseless every once in a while.”
The frown on his face vanished, replaced by a smile and I swear the clouds parted and the sun shone. On the other hand, maybe it was just me basking in that sexy smile.
“Fancy a walk in the rain?” he asked me, his eyes darting to my hair, then back to my face. “That is, if you don’t mind getting wet. Even though I have to say, I love you wet.” He whispered those last words in my ear and I almost combusted on the spot.
I nodded, excitement rushing through my veins like a drug in my system. I couldn’t remember the last time I walked in the rain.
He took my handbag and slung the strap over his body. I grabbed his hand and tugged him forward and into the drizzle, laughing. I wanted to run with his hand in mine and feel my heart thumping in my chest while the cool rain fell around us. His legs were long, but he slowed down enough to accommodate my strides.
We stopped next to the Octagon Basin, out of breath, laughing. When the drizzle turned into a downpour, I grabbed him by the neck and crushed my mouth to his. This time he was ready.
We finally made it to the motorcycle, just as the rain eased off a bit. He carefully weaved in and out of traffic as we drove to his townhouse. My front was plastered to his back and his warmth seeped into me.
“I’m
so wet for you right now,” I whispered in his ear. His back vibrated from his growl. “Remember that illegal move you did in your art room? The one that ought to be forbidden in every country? I want that, Remington.”
“You’re killing me, Selene. You know what this means, don’t you?” he asked, pulling to a stop as the lights turned red.
I kissed his back, before whispering, “Tell me.”
He darted a look at the lights, and then over his shoulder at me. “When we get home, I will rip your clothes off, and then kiss, suck, bite, and lick every part of your body. I can’t wait to taste you. Mon Dieu. I can’t get enough of you.” He grabbed one of my hands from his waist and dragged it down to his crotch. “Do you feel this? This is for you, ma belle. Are you ready for it, Selene?”
“Yes!” I almost screamed as my heart raced and my breathing became harsh, matching his.
“Très bien, ma chérie.” His accent deepened with lust. He released my hand and squeezed my knee. I just about jumped off the bike at the contact. He laughed low and dirty as we sped off when the lights changed.
He rolled the bike up the drive, haphazardly parking it before jumping off, and lifting me from my seat. After quickly divesting our jackets and helmets, he scooped me in his arms and headed for the door.
“God, I love your arms. So strong,” I said, snuggling deeper into his chest. No one had ever tried to carry me like this, so I was going to enjoy being spoiled while it lasted.
He laughed, pressing a kiss on my forehead and stopping at the door. “Keys in my trousers. Right side pocket.”
I repositioned myself, and did as instructed. Jesus, the man had strong thighs. And oh, my God! Was that his—
“Found something you like in there?” He grinned at me.
“Yes, I did.” I flung the door open and as soon as we stumbled through, he kicked it shut, slid me down his body and pushed me up against the door.
“Well, then.” He jerked his pelvis forward, hitting me right where I wanted him. “So I have the license to do very dirty things to you.”
Before I could speak, his mouth was on mine, kissing me passionately and desperately as if he couldn’t get enough of me, as if the thought of not having his lips on mine was driving him to the point of insanity. And I loved it. I fisted his hair, tugging it hard. A groan rumbled in his chest as his tongue swept and plunged into my mouth in the same rhythm as his hips. He pulled back, breathing hard as his shaking fingers fumbled with my zipper, and for a moment, I thought he’d rip my jeans off as he had promised. He growled in satisfaction when he finally got through and I lifted my shaky legs. He tossed the jeans behind him, and his eyes shone with lust as he realized I had told him the truth. I was commando. He hooked his hands inside my lilac lace bra, and ripped it off my body.
“Holy shit! That’s so hot, even though that was my favorite bra. God, Remington,” I screamed his name as he tore the blouse from my body, his lips kissing, sucking, biting, and then kissing me better, just like he’d promised.
Then I remembered he had a son and he might be stumbling around in the house. “Oh, God, Remington. Where’s Adrien?”
“He won’t be home for another hour.” He dropped to his knees, grabbed one of my legs, and hooked it over his shoulders. He shoved his head between my thighs, and brought his mouth to my pussy, the sexy sounds he made in his throat vibrating through my body and making me wetter. He pulled back and slid his hands to my breasts.
“I love how your breasts fit in my hands. Hmm, just right.” He rolled my nipples between his fingers, and then, slid his hands down my body to my hips. “Touch your breasts, ma belle.”
I stared at him, feeling very turned on and awkward. I had never done this before. Would I look silly? Who touches themselves?
“Do it,” he commanded softly, his heavy-lidded gaze sweeping down to my chest. He licked his lips and his Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. He glided his strong hands down the sides of my body in encouraging worshipful strokes and I felt like a goddess. “I want to see you touch yourself.”
I did as he asked, basking in his fervent gaze, boosting my confidence. I squirmed at the contact.
Oh, holy wow! That was . . . interesting. I peeked at him through my lashes and smiled seductively. Or I hoped it was a minx-like smile. He looked like he was about to pounce on me any second and complete the task himself.
“Yes, that’s it. Don’t stop.” He brought his mouth to my pussy and used his fingers to bare me to his tongue. His scruff rubbed against the inside of my thigh, arousing me more.
I screamed as he flattened his tongue on me, stroking my clit, then sucking gently. He rumbled deep in his throat, the sound humming its way up my body, and I shattered. My orgasm shook me to my very foundation. Without warning, he shot to his feet and crushed his mouth with mine passionately, possessively and claimed me. Jesus, I could taste myself on his tongue.
He wrapped his arms around me, holding me as I rode my orgasm.
“Are you all right?” he asked, hoarsely. I nodded into his chest, unable to raise my head. He scooped me in his arms and closed the distance to the sofa, tossed me on it, any signs of gentleness gone and straightened.
“Don’t move. I’ll be right back.”
As if I would. “Where are you going?” I asked, following his delicious butt disappear up the stairs with my eyes and then grabbed a pillow, plunked it on my face, and giggled.
I am in heaven.
Moments later, the pillow was yanked out of my hands. Remington stood above me, his eyes dark and hungry.
“Give me your hands.”
Holy shit! He was in Intense Remington mode.
“Why?”
He stared at me, his jaw set and one eyebrow raised. Apparently, he’d decided to wield his “stare her into submission” look.
I sighed dramatically, and shoved my arms toward him, but inside my body, anticipation bubbled furiously.
One hand went to the back of his jeans as he spun me around with the other, and seconds later, my wrists were shackled in handcuffs.
I wiggled my wrists, and quickly looked up at him. He must have read my confusion because he grabbed my chin and said, “I want you to give me all of you.”
“Haven’t I done that already?”
He shook his head. “You’ve been holding yourself back. Give me your fears. I don’t want you to surrender your control to me, but I would like you to trust me enough to know that I would never hurt you.”
I shifted on the couch, more aroused than before. He watched me closely as though waiting for a reaction from me. After our earlier conversation, he knew how I felt about giving up control. Holy shit, the thought of me being at his mercy of his strength and passion at this moment was driving me insane with need. But allowing him a glimpse of my fears? It felt too intimate. On the other hand, the thought of freeing myself from that weight, if only for one night, sounded quite appealing.
“Trust goes both ways, you know,” I said, scrutinizing his face for a reaction to my words. “Would you do that? Trust me with your fears?”
He narrowed his eyes on me, sensing the challenge behind those words. Finally, he nodded.
“I will hold you to that.”
His expression shuttered. He probably hadn’t expected me to say that. But darn it. If there was a way to wipe his slate clean for another chance at life, I would do it in a heartbeat. But then, he probably wouldn’t be this strong, exceptional man standing in front of me. After what he told me today, I had a feeling that it would take a huge effort to get him to let go of his reservations.
He had promised me three months of debauchery and hedonistic pleasure. I wanted that and everything else he had to offer.
This is it. I took a deep breath and nodded, surrendering a slice of my control and fears to him.
His shoulders relaxed a notch. “Thank you for trusting me, ma belle.”
He stood back to survey his handiwork as uninhibited hunger flooded his face again. He quickly st
ripped off his jeans, his movements uncoordinated. He seemed to be losing control, fast.
Then he sat on the couch next to me and gripped my hips, pulling me to him.
“Spread your legs and sit on my lap.”
He guided me forward to place me right above his shaft. He looked up at me with raised eyebrows as if to ask me if he could enter me naked. I love how he paused long enough to check if I was okay with what he was doing. Strangely, there was no hesitation on my part. Plus he’d already been inside me, bare, earlier on today when the condom broke. I shivered at the thought of having sex with him skin on skin. I wanted him completely. I smiled at him, answering his question.
Seeming satisfied, he squeezed my hips and I lifted myself on my knees.
I loved this version of Remington. He didn’t need to say a word for my body to bow to his touch and command. I looked down at his thick, hard cock and did as instructed. He lowered my body, his gaze never leaving mine. I held my breath as I took him in.
Oh, holy fuck! Surely, I was going to die. My legs shook and my body clenched with eagerness. I wasn’t going to last long. How was it even possible for a person to orgasm twice in the span of thirty minutes?
My legs gave way and I sank onto his lap.
“Oh, fuck, Selene!” he shouted, before burying his face in the crevice of my neck. “I think I’ve died and gone to heaven. You feel incredible.”
I grinned smugly into his chest, loving how his hands adored my body. After a few moments, he pulled back and began to lift me up and down his length. Since my hands we cuffed behind me, I hardly had much control other than lift myself up and down on my knees. But darn it if I was going to let him have all the fun. I mirrored his undulating movements, leaned forward, and kissed his throat. His scruff rubbed on my face and chin as I made my way to his ear. I nipped and sucked his earlobe. He groaned, grunted, and cursed. I bit my lip, moaned and whimpered.
