We fall silent as I contemplate Tristan’s words. Cam has had every disadvantage in life. He was born to a murderer, lost his mother and sister to violence, had no money, no help. Even with these caveats, he used the few gifts he was given to forge an empire.
The slow song comes to an end. We walk back to my friends, but Tristan pulls me aside before we reach them. “Put in a good word for me with Sydney, will you?”
There’s no chance for matchmaking. The music swells. Sydney and Venetia scream and clutch each other. “This is our song! We’ve got to dance. Come on, you guys.”
They’ve known each other forever. I’m envious of their friendship. They drag me to the dance floor. Their enthusiasm is infectious. We dance for what seems like hours. I force myself to ignore Cam. We’re less than nothing to each other. His behavior has proven it time and time again. Instead, I let myself get lost in the thumping bass and driving beat of song after song. A cute young man in his twenties joins us. He puts his hands on my hips, grinding against my bottom. He’s talented with the moves, and I fall easily into the beat until suddenly he’s gone, and a pair of icy, blue eyes stare down at me.
Cam slides an arm around my waist and yanks me against his chest. With a practiced twist of his arm, he spins me out and back again. His knee slides between mine so I’m straddling his leg. We’re locked together now, swaying in time to the music. He stares into my eyes. The crowd falls away, leaving the two of us alone. I’m propelled backward through time to a place where he meant everything to me. I remember loving him more than life, counting the days until I could be with him in New York, aching for his touch.
Perspiration trickles between my breasts. I lift my hair with one hand to cool my neck, placing the other on Cam’s chest. He’s big and virile and moves with sinful grace. The women around us stare in envy, but he only has eyes for me. A coil of need tightens deep in my belly.
At the end of the song, he threads his fingers through mine and drags me toward one of the private alcoves. I follow, a tad inebriated, and too stunned to protest. The alcove is dark and deep, couching us in shadows, hiding us from view. He crowds me against the wall, placing one hand on the plaster beside my head, the other on my waist.
“You never asked me why.” It’s the first thing he’s said to me all night. The rough timbre of his voice rattles through my chest.
“Why what?” Having him so close destroys coherent thought. His cologne drifts between us, spicy and sweet, drugging my senses.
“You never asked me about the women I slept with. You never gave me a chance to explain. Everyone in my life has let me down at one time or another, but you? You were the only person I ever trusted, Vanessa. I wanted to tell you. I was going to tell you when I got back that morning.” His hand skates up my ribs, cups my breast then climbs to my throat. Fear saps the strength from my legs. Not that he’ll strangle me, but that I was wrong to run out on him, to deny him the chance to come clean. “Once we started seeing each other, I dropped all my clients. I worked three jobs to pay the rent. I was just waiting for the right time to discuss it with you, because I knew you’d be upset.”
“What was I supposed to think? My name was in your book. And there were so many others.” Even after all these years, I’m still jealous of the women who used his body for their pleasure.
“But you were the only one who mattered. Ever. Then and now.”
His lower lip trembles. The tiny display of vulnerability cracks my heart in two. I want to throw my arms around him, comfort him, make his pain go away. It hurts even more knowing that I betrayed him.
“You should have told me sooner.”
“You should have waited. Why did you have to marry him?” He pushes away and runs a hand through his hair, as if collecting his willpower. The line of his jaw squares. “You didn’t trust me then, and I can’t trust you now.”
With a shake of his dark head, he walks away. I watch him leave, feeling the pain of our breakup all over again.
Chapter 30
Cam - Today
AFTER THE RUN-in with Vanessa at Dystopia, I’m too rattled to sleep. A glass of bourbon does nothing to help. I toss and turn in the hotel bed until I hear the door across the hall open and close. It’s her. Knowing she’s so close, yet completely unattainable renews my frustration.
Two minutes later, there’s a tentative knock on the door, so faint I think I’m imagining it. When the second knock happens, I’m on my feet, ready to give someone a piece of my mind.
Vanessa barrels over the threshold. She’s still in her sweet little dress, barefoot. I scrub a hand over my face. Am I dreaming? This can’t be real.
“Always have to get in the last word, don’t you?” I ask.
“It’s a Seaforth thing,” she replies. Her cheeks are flushed, breasts heaving. Damn if she isn’t even prettier when she’s mad.
“Yeah, well, I’ve had enough of the Seaforths for one night.” Curiosity stops me from throwing her out. I stare down at her, wondering why I can’t let her go, even after all these years.
“I know this is crazy, but—”
I don’t give her a chance to finish. I shove her against the wall, pinning her arms above her head, and take her mouth. No holds barred. No prisoners. The burn of vodka peppers her tongue. She pushes her hips into mine.
“Fuck,” I mutter. There’s no point in fighting against the pull any longer. I pick her up. She wraps her legs around my waist, and I walk her to my bedroom.
“Just for tonight, let’s forget we’re enemies,” she says against my lips.
“Anything you say, princess.” I toss her onto the bed. She bounces and crabwalks up the mattress. In one fluid motion, she hauls her dress over her head and throws it across the room. I struggle out of my shirt, shove down my pants, and lunge for her mouth.
We’re savage and primal, like two furious lions mating. Her nails rake down my back. I twist her hair around my wrist and yank her head to the side so I can suck on the flesh of her neck. Heat radiates off her tight little body. The lace of her bra feels textured beneath my palm. I drag down one of the bra cups, nuzzle her nipple with my nose then draw it into my mouth. She hisses and arches her back.
I want to ravish her, punish her for every sin she’s committed. All this time, I thought it was over between us when I was really waiting for someone to replace her. Now, I know it’s impossible. She’s one of a kind.
My hands smooth over her torso, remembering, savoring every inch, the full curve of her hips, the soft skin of her thighs. I grab her ankles and jerk them apart, preparing to drive into her, overcome with the need to conquer and claim.
“Condom. Condom,” she pants.
Jesus, what’s wrong with me? Never, in my life, have I had unprotected sex, but I was about to take her bare. I fumble through the drawer of the nightstand until I find a foil packet. She takes it from me, ripping the wrapper with her teeth. Together we slide the latex over my length.
The touch of her fingers on my cock feels heavenly. I grit my teeth to hold back the burn of orgasm. Now that I have her in my clutches, I’m going to make up for all the time we’ve lost. The old feelings rush back. Past and present merge into one pleasant blur.
“Cam, please. Wait a second.” Unshed tears glimmer in her eyes.
“Did I hurt you?” I try to pull back, but she shakes her head.
“No, I’m fine. It’s just— I’ve only been with Giles since you, and it’s been awhile. We didn’t— We stopped having sex a long time ago.” She presses her lips together and looks away, like she’s embarrassed.
“It’s okay. Vanessa, look at me.” I tilt her chin toward my face and wait for her to make eye contact. My pulse stutters. This is the Vanessa I loved, the girl who ran away with my heart. I press soft kisses to her forehead, temples, and the tip of her nose. “I won’t hurt you.”
“Well, you can hurt me a little.” A glimmer of humor tilts her lips.
Her hips lift, and I slide home in one slow, torturous thr
ust. Pleasure prickles along the backs of my legs, down my spine, and into my groin. Our bodies pick up a smooth rhythm. It’s like we’ve never been apart, yet everything is different.
I’m lost in her smooth skin, the softness of her breasts. Time stills and reverses, taking us back to where we began. Moans fill the air. The headboard thuds against the wall—once, twice, three times.
“I never loved him the way I loved you,” she whispers. The glide of her lips over my ear unleashes the last of my restraint. “You were the love of my life. My only love.”
The confession tears away the years of anger. I push deeper inside her, rolling my hips. We kiss and nip at each other. My legs tangle with hers, our fingers entwine. Lust morphs into passion and blends with the bittersweet tang of broken dreams.
“I came after you.” Release teases along my thighs. “I went to California to find you, but you were already married.”
“I’m so sorry, Cam.” She takes my face in her hands and presses the sweetest of kisses to my lips. I come with a shudder. It’s better than any drug and twice as addictive. She cries out, chasing her own orgasm. Her muscles pulse and flutter around my cock, drawing out the pleasure.
Long after we’re done, we cling to each other in the darkness, afraid to move, to spoil the moment. Morning will come in a few hours, and we’ll go back to our separate lives. I stroke her hair, thinking of what might have been, while she snuggles into my shoulder.
Chapter 31
Vanessa - Today
AS SOON AS Cam falls asleep, I tiptoe back to my room. The first thing to catch my eye is the photograph of the kids from my office. I hang my head in shame. How did I let this situation get out of hand? For years, I’ve been running away from my problems. In the process, I’ve hurt innocent people; Giles, Gaston, and Cam.
I stare at Gaston’s beautiful blue eyes, their thick lashes, his skin bronzed by the sun. He deserves to know his real father. Cam isn’t the monster I made him out to be. He’s flawed and unconventional, but he’s also a survivor. With all the odds stacked against him, he managed to turn his disadvantages into assets and make a success of himself. Deep down, he’s a good person.
The strength ebbs from my knees. My thighs burn, reminding me of all the naughty things he did to me. Tomorrow, I’m going to have a wicked hangover, but it’s nothing compared to the ache in my chest. I sink into the nearest chair and close my eyes. I’ve been living a lie for so long that I’m not sure how to be honest anymore. Giles went along with the charade, claiming Gaston as his own, treating him better than I dreamed possible. He made it easy to forget the truth. After a while, I became comfortable with the deception. It was easier to float through life in a bubble of denial than admit my mistakes and deal with the steps to make things right.
I have no idea how Cam will take the news that he has a twelve-year old son, but he deserves to know. Fate robbed him of his mother and sister. Now, I’ve denied him access to his son. I have to tell him.
By this time, it’s almost morning. Dawn streaks across the eastern sky. Pink light glints off the cityscape. An odd calm washes through me.
Armed with the framed photograph and my iPad, I walk across the hall and tap on Cam’s door. Anxiety unfurls butterflies in my stomach, but I’m confident in my plan. When he opens the door, my carefully planned words evaporate on my tongue. He’s shirtless, wearing only a pair of black boxer briefs, his hair rumpled from my fingers. The muscles below my waist clench at the sight of his toned abs. I thought one night with him would be enough, but I was wrong. I’ll never get enough of him. Never.
“Can we talk?” I ask, fighting away the tremor in my voice.
“Now?” His voice is rough with sleep, deep and sexy. He lifts a black eyebrow.
“Yes.”
“Only if you come back to bed.” His eyes darken, and his gaze falls to my lips. One corner of his mouth curls upward in a sinful smirk. He steps to the side, allowing me to pass.
“I need to show you something.”
“That sounds promising.” One of his hands grazes my bottom as he falls into step behind me.
“I’m serious, Cam.” I veer to the right, toward the living room, away from the bedroom, and point to the sofa. “Sit. Please.”
“Okay.” He tries to hold my hand, but I shake my head and take a seat next to him. “I’m intrigued.”
“You’re not going to like it.” The smile slips from his lips. He nods and moves to the edge of his seat. “But I need to tell you something. Something important.”
“Then spit it out, Seaforth, so we can go back to bed.”
I draw in a deep breath to fortify my courage. “I want to talk about what happened between us back—back then. I think if we had just sat down and talked, things might have turned out very differently for both of us.” He nods, staring into my eyes, giving me his complete attention. “I’m going to be completely honest with you, and I want you to do the same.”
“Not even a question.” With his left hand, he tugs a loose strand of hair behind my ear. The casual contact sends a shiver along my neck. “You first.”
“When I found out about the other women, it made me crazy. I was hurt.” A lump thickens in my throat as all the old feelings come tumbling back. “I want to understand why you did it—slept with them, I mean.”
His gaze drops to the floor. He rests his forearms on his thighs and clasps his hands between his knees. When he looks up again, remorse deepens the lines around his mouth. “The first time was by accident. I hooked up with an older woman at a university function. The next morning, she left a couple of hundreds on the nightstand. A few weeks later, she introduced me to one of her friends. They were rich, powerful women with too much time on their hands. I was young and broke and their cash offered a way out of my situation. Before long, I was rubbing elbows with the elite, making connections. It was easy money. I liked the lifestyle. After living in the projects, I felt like I’d won the lottery.” He rubs a finger along his upper lip and stares out the window, brows lowering. “You don’t know what it was like to be me back then, Vanessa. I was an outcast. My mom was black, my dad was a murderer, and I was poor. Three strikes. I had nothing and no one and no way to get out of my situation except with my body and my brain.”
My chest aches for him and the injustices he’s endured. Although I don’t agree with his choices, I can’t fault his desperation for change. I place a hand on his knee and squeeze.
“Once you came to New York, I quit. You were the only one for me.” The bass in his voice rattles my soul. His hand covers mine. “I did what I had to do. I’m not going to apologize for it. But I’m sorry about not telling you right away. And I apologize for hurting you. It’s the last thing I ever wanted.”
Catching my chin between his thumb and index finger, he tilts my face up to his. My heart melts at the sincerity in his eyes. “I understand. And you’re forgiven. For all of it.”
“Thank you.” He brushes his lips softly across mine. The tender touch means more than his words.
“And I owe you an apology. Several, in fact.” I cup a palm over the curve of his cheek, knowing this could be the last time he ever speaks to me.
“Excellent.” He relaxes into the cushions, throws both arms along the back of the sofa, and rests his ankle on the opposite knee. His eyes twinkle with humor. “I’ve been waiting for this.”
He’s teasing, but the gravity of the situation sparks the sting of tears. I blink them back. He’s never going to understand.
“I should have let you explain. I’m not sure it would have changed things, but I was wrong to run away, and I apologize.”
He twirls a finger in the air, trying to lend levity to the situation. “Keep going. I want to know why you married Giles.”
“Love was never part of the equation. Affection and respect—yes.” I pause to collect the right words. “And my heart was broken when I met him. I didn’t want to deal with love or any of the complications that came with it. We got along
great. He let me do what I wanted. Most of the time, we lived apart.” Looking back, I think Giles recognized our incompatibility but was too enamored with the benefits of the Seaforth name to point it out. “After Gaston was born, I took him to Stanford with me and finished my MBA while Giles lived in Germany.”
“I would never have let you out of my sight,” Cam says. “Not for a minute.”
“He had other women. I knew about them, but he was very discreet. And how could I complain when I was in love with someone else? It seemed too hypocritical.” The parallel between my parents’ marriage and mine is embarrassing. I followed in their footsteps, married for convenience and status. Those were long, lonely years. I don’t want to dwell on them or go into the sordid details. Giles is still Lisle’s father, and I feel a sense of obligation to maintain his reputation.
“It didn’t have to be like that,” he says. A muscle twitches in his cheek. He’s getting angry, and I can’t blame him. “And what about you? Were you faithful?”
“I’ve done a lot of things wrong, but I never broke my wedding vows. When I make a promise, I keep it.” I can’t look at him, so I stare at the painting across the room.
“But you didn’t think twice about breaking your promises to me.” When I glance up at his face, the color of his eyes mutates into a stormy gray, reminding me of a churning ocean.
“We were young, Cam. I was nineteen. It’s not an excuse, just the truth. And there were—extenuating circumstances.” Blood thunders through my ears. It’s now or never. I place the photograph in his lap.
He stares at the picture, confusion furrowing his brow. “Your kids?”
“Yes.” I hold my breath as he drags a finger over Gaston’s image.
“How old are they?”
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