Uncovering You 11: The Lost Chapter

by Scarlett Edwards

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Note from Scarlett

  Uncovering You 11: The Lost Chapter

  The End

  Copyright

  Uncovering You 11:

  The Lost Chapter

  by Scarlett Edwards

  2015

  EDWARDS PUBLISHING

  Note from Scarlett

  Hey all,

  So, this book wasn’t supposed to exist. I only wrote it after seeing the feedback following the conclusion of Uncovering You 10: The Finale.

  The consensus was obvious: you pretty much hated it.

  That's not where I wanted to leave the story. I thought the conclusion was in line with the very first book. From the prologue, at the start of Uncovering You 1: The Contract, we knew that Jeremy and Lilly weren't going to have a perfect ever-after. I hinted at it throughout the rest of the series and thought I prepared you for it.

  Apparently, I did not. The way I left things pissed some of you off.

  Scratch that. It pissed nearly all of you off. And that's the damn last thing I want to do.

  I left the ending vague and ambiguous on purpose: I wanted you to imagine if Lilly would die or live. Does Lilly wake, or does she not? Does the eye flutter mean anything, or is it simply a symbol of false hope?

  If you wanted the HEA, she awoke. If you didn’t? She never rose.

  I thought it was all devilishly clever. In reality, it was devilishly moronic. You wanted a conclusive conclusion.

  I didn’t deliver, and it all backfired on me.

  So, this little story is my way of making amends. It’s the ending the majority of you were after: one that is expected in this genre yet stays true to the characters you got to know over the last ten books.

  It’s about 7,000 words, so it’s not just a throwaway. I put time and effort into giving you the end you deserve. It covers events fourteen months after Lilly’s ambiguous eye flutter.

  And after you read this? That’s it for both Lilly and Jeremy. Their story is over. I’ve got new stuff coming. As I love telling you, sign up for my mailing list so you don’t miss it:

  Sign up here.

  You girls (and guys!) are the greatest fans in the world. I did you a huge disservice leaving Uncovering You where I did.

  This is my attempt at making it right.

  Yours,

  Scarlett Edwards

  May 4th, 2015.

  PS: If you’re one of the few people who felt satisfied with the original ending of Uncovering You 10, I suggest skipping this book. But, on the other hand, if you want to see what does come next... read on!

  Uncovering You 11

  The Lost Chapter

  By Scarlett Edwards

  ~~

  Fourteen Months after “The Flutter”

  ~~

  LILLY

  I stand still, eyes closed, hands on the railing. The gentle sway of the yacht makes me feel like I’m floating.

  A warm breeze flows through my hair and tickles my neck.

  I breathe deep. Every breath I take is a triumph of will, a celebration of life.

  I absolutely love it.

  The air is so pure I can smell the sunlight. It mingles with the soft ocean spray, warming the mist that touches my face.

  At times like this, I can forget everything. I can forgive everything, because life—this moment—is so absolutely perfect.

  Strong hands circle my waist. A scruffy cheek is pressed against mine. The hairs that scratch my skin feel delicious.

  “I keep wondering how long you’re going to stay here,” a deep, rich male voice rumbles in my ear.

  I lean into the body behind me and release the railing, firm in the knowledge that I can never waver. I will never fail.

  “I’m going to stay until you come for me,” I whisper. I open my eyes and tilt my head to rest on his shoulder. “But with you, I’m going to stay forever.”

  I turn around, and face the man I once hated, the man I now love:

  Jeremy Stonehart.

  I trace a careful finger along his jawline, against the short, prickly stubble. “I like this,” I tell him, my voice languid. “Don’t shave.”

  He answers with a low growl that comes from his throat and kisses me.

  My eyes shutter close and I lose myself in the feel of his lips against mine. His mouth, which can be so cruel and hard, is now soft and gentle.

  I melt into Jeremy.

  He pulls away, and looks me deep in the eyes. His are the color of sapphires. The Caribbean sun makes them shine.

  “How are you feeling?” he asks me.

  “With you?” I reply. “Like I’m in a dream.”

  He hugs me tight. A touch too tight, but I’m not complaining. Any type of contact with this man feels wonderful.

  He places his chin on my crown. “This is a good place,” he tells me. “We can spend months here. However long you need, Lilly. I’m with you, every step of the way.”

  I stiffen a bit. He worries about me. I know. He thinks I’m still delicate, that I still need his protection. And while that’s not entirely untrue, it undermines some of the progress I’ve made on my own.

  I’m still healing. The worst is past, but it’s only this week that Dr. Telfair deemed me well enough to travel. And only by land or sea, not by air.

  Jeremy told me how he waited at my side while I slept. He told me how he stayed and prayed and held out hope when nobody else believed there was such. He told me how without me, he was lost. And what a miracle it was when I stirred, and opened my eyes.

  I love him for that. When all the lights had faded, when both our futures seemed doomed, he stayed true. His belief in me, in my recovery, gave me a second chance. Gave us a second chance.

  Or maybe a third, or a fourth, or a fifth? How many times had darkness taken hold, only to have that ray of light that is Jeremy Stonehart shine through and illumine the way?

  I know I’ve been given my share of chances. I know that not everybody survives. Love is strong, but even love cannot overcome everything, not when the stakes are so high.

  Except in our case? Love did triumph. Love conquered all.

  “Thank you, Jeremy,” I say. I keep my features placid. “That’s very sweet.”

  He acknowledges my reply with something of a grunt.

  Of course, he’s still Jeremy. He’s still Jeremy Stonehart, the man who could have had the world. The man who did have the world, but gave all that up to be with…

  Me.

  So I forgive him for being worried. Of course he would be protective. Especially when there are still lingering effects of my year-long coma.

  Physical therapy helped. Post-traumatic counselling helped. My muscles had all-but wasted away when I awoke. I had to learn how to walk again, how to use my arms and my legs, hell—even how to breathe on my own.

  Jeremy stood with me at every single moment.

  There were trying times in the immediate aftermath. Times when I felt frail, disoriented, confused. Times when it felt like I would go weeks without taking a solid step forward. Times when, even though I was alive and with Jeremy, my life felt dark.

  But Dr. Telfair and his team set up a recovery program for me, and I stayed at it diligently, even when I wanted to give up, even when I wanted to throw everything down and cry from my lack of progress.

  Yet progress did come. I was released from the hospital in three months. Jeremy and I stayed at his nearby apartment. The second stage of my recovery happened there. Then we returned to California, to his mansion, where I continued to progress. I took up painting to fill the time, something I could do without feeling physically exhausted, and something I h
ad an unexplored affinity for thanks to my late father.

  And now, months and months after that, I’m finally strong enough to begin feeling like myself.

  My greatest fear through the process was that Jeremy would give up. That his loyalty to me would waver, that he would find the strong woman he fell in love with missing, and that we would drift apart.

  So far, every one of my worries has proved unfounded.

  I’m still not one hundred percent. There are days I feel weak. Days where the slightest activity drains me of all my energy. There’s sudden-onset fatigue, which comes and goes at random…but even that has been improving.

  Sometimes, I get vertigo. My vision spins, and I feel dizzy. Bright lights can over-stimulate me, as can loud noises. It’s worse when emotions run high, coupled with any other type of sensory overload.

  But I’m progressing, in all of those areas.

  “Another hour and we’ll be there,” he says. “I asked Manuela to have the house ready for our arrival. We won’t be disturbed tonight. I’m going to have you all to myself.”

  I smile into his eyes. “I can’t wait.”

  ***

  The next morning I wake up with Jeremy lapping at my sex.

  I open my eyes and see him down there, licking me, running his tongue over my folds, sending slow waves of pleasure cascading through my body.

  “Mmm, baby, don’t stop,” I murmur. I take a pillow and bring it over my head. I press it to my eyes so that I’m shrouded by darkness. All I want to focus on, all I want to feel, is the glorious man with his tongue on my clit.

  He licks me and his hands extend up to run over my body. I love the strength and power of his touch. I love how firm it is, how secure it is, and how desired it makes me feel. I love when his hands close over my breasts, when his fingers pinch my nipples.

  A particularly strong wave washes through me. I gasp, then arch my back, then moan in appreciation.

  Jeremy lifts his head. His fingers start rubbing me. “Come for me,” he purrs. “Come for me, my sweet Lilly-Flower.”

  He lowers his head again. The moment his tongue hits my core, I’m lost. I’m overcome by the greatest orgasm I’ve had in weeks. I come against his mouth, ripping the pillow from my head and moan, arching up as I do.

  Then I collapse, languid, spent, and totally satisfied.

  Jeremy climbs over me and gently presses his body to mine. His hard arousal presses into my tummy, but he knows I can’t go again so soon. In fact, it might be hours until I’m ready—all because of the after-effects of the coma.

  That’s one thing I very much hate.

  He nibbles my earlobe and whispers in a rustling breath, “I love waking you up like this.”

  I smile, but not without sadness. I’d have him fuck me hard if my body could sustain it. Alas, it can’t.

  One hand goes to the back of Jeremy’s head. I stroke his hair and pull him down to rest on my shoulder. “And I love being woken up like this, Mr. Stonehart.”

  He growls, and immediately the mood shifts. He grabs me by the waist, rolls over and sits me up on his hard abdominals, his cock pressing against my back. “What did you call me?” he asks softly. His eyes search mine. There’s a dangerous edge reflected there.

  But far from cowering from his tone, I fight back. “Mr. Stonehart,” I say, sending a challenge in my gaze. “That’s your name, is it not?”

  “Not until you become Mrs. Stonehart,” he says, then grabs my hair by the roots, forces my head down, and kisses me fast and hard.

  ***

  The rest of the morning passes with heated foreplay, drugging kisses, and unyielding, ceaseless passion.

  I love when I arouse this side of Jeremy, but I hate that my body is not yet strong enough to receive his punishment. Outside the bedroom, I want to be strong and confident. Inside, I crave for Jeremy to take control.

  Still. Things are not so bad, and there are other… ways… of him getting pleasure. At the end, he pushes me to my knees and thrusts his hard length into my open mouth. I use my teeth a bit, scratching him, melding his pleasure with the lightest bit of pain, and showing him that even when he takes control, I don’t take it lying down.

  And then we emerge from the bedroom and are greeted by Manuela and her family. The kids have grown so much since I last saw them. They absolutely shine when they meet me. Manuela admonishes Jeremy for staying away for so long, and for not bringing me to the island paradise more often.

  Of course, they don’t know the true reason for our absence.

  I lounge on the beach for most of the day with my head in Jeremy’s lap. He’s been engrossed in a book for hours. I ask him about it.

  “I like the act more than the story,” he tells me. “It’s not often I get the chance to simply read. Not like this, not since I was still in school.”

  “Do you miss it?” I ask. “Stonehart Industries? Running it, keeping it alive, watching it prosper?”

  He shakes his head. “My life, Lilly, is only you.”

  It’s a standard response, a variation of every single other he’s given in answer to such questions before.

  But today, it doesn’t feel sufficient. I want to push the envelope.

  I sit up. “But that can’t be enough,” I say. “Aren’t you bored? Don’t you get tired of doing nothing?”

  “No.”

  I wait for him to continue.

  He does not.

  I sigh. I reach up for his head and run my fingers through his hair. “I’m just trying to figure out what’s going on up here,” I say. “A man like you can’t go from running a multi-billion dollar company and then just do…” I look around, “…nothing.”

  He takes my hand and brings it to his lips. He kisses my palm. “I’m not doing nothing, Lilly,” he stresses. “I am enjoying every minute I get to spend with you.”

  Again, that sense of unease creeps up inside me. It wrinkles my skin and makes me feel flawed. That can’t be the truth. I know Jeremy better than that. But for the moment, it looks like it’s all the answer I’m going to get.

  “I just don’t want me to take away from you…being you,” I confide in a small voice.

  Jeremy smiles down at me. “That, sweet Lilly,” he assures me, “is never going to be a problem.”

  ***

  A week later, at dinner, we have our first fight.

  Jeremy’s been growing restless on the island. With nothing to occupy his time, he’s understandably more irritable.

  I’ve stayed busy with my continuing physical therapy program, and painting. Like father like daughter, I think with a touch of sadness.

  Still. It’s given me something to do. Mixing watercolors on an empty canvas is surprisingly calming. I can get absorbed for hours, focusing on the strokes of my brush and getting lost in replicating the things I see before me on paper. Jeremy’s island is a natural paradise, and the scenery is absolutely perfect for creating art.

  Now, I don’t claim to be proficient by any stretch. But I’ve been getting better. And painting is one of the few things I can do without tiring myself out.

  Jeremy, on the other hand? He has nothing. For a man who was so single-minded in his purpose since he hit his twenties, for a man who always had something that demanded his attention, the change has to be jarring.

  He’s been getting back in shape, too. Swimming, jogging, doing bodyweight exercises on the beach and inland. Exercising take up a few of his hours each day. His body’s responding, and he’s looking more robust, and more like himself again—after the state he fell into when my fate was uncertain.

  I enjoy watching him. There’s something very soothing about seeing such a masculine man train shirtless before me.

  And since I can’t have sex more than once, maybe twice, a day, there’s a lot of downtime here.

  “When can I see what you’re working on?” Jeremy asks, slicing into some type of fish that Manuela prepared for us.

  “When it’s finished,” I tell him. Truth be to
ld, I’d prefer not to show my art to anyone ever—I’m little more than a tyro at this point—but I definitely don’t feel comfortable showing paintings in progress.

  He grunts in response.

  It’s not a comforting sound.

  “What about you?” I ask. “When are you going to tell me what you’re planning when all this,” I gesture around us, “is over?”

  He shoots me a hard look. “Over? What do you mean, ‘over’?”

  “We can’t stay here forever,” I tell him. “When we go back to America, what are you going to do?”

  “Why do you think we’re going back to America?” he grumbles. “This is what you want, isn’t it? Peace. Happiness.” He looks up at the clear blue sky, a hint of a smirk on his lips. “Limitless sunshine.”

  “This isn’t real, Jeremy,” I tell him softly. I look down at my food. “We’re living in a fantasy. What happens when the clock strikes twelve?”

  “There is no clock, Lilly,” he says. “This isn’t fantasy. It’s real life. It’s what I wanted. To be here, like this…” he reaches across the table and touches my hand, “with you.”

  I pull away. “It’s not enough,” I mutter.

  His voice turns icy. “What?”

  “It can’t be enough!” I tell him, glaring across the table. “Why do you always keep me in the dark, Jeremy? Why don’t you tell me what you’re really thinking?”

  “You know what I’m thinking, dammit,” he snaps. “Why must you accuse me of keeping secrets? I have none, from you. I gave up everything for you!”

  “Yeah, well I never asked you to!” I holler back. I don’t know where my irritation is coming from, but it’s there now, in full force. “I never told you to give up your company, to give away everything, just to be with me!”

  “Enough!” Jeremy roars. He slams his fist on the table, making the dishware jump. “Enough, Lilly. What’s gotten into you, dammit? It’s like you’re saying you don’t want me.”