“Jacobi?” I cup his face. His eyes are darker than I’ve ever seen, and his expression is harsher than the day we wed.
“Shh, London.” He drops a kiss on the corner of my mouth. “I need to be inside you.”
That doesn’t make me feel better. There’s something wrong and he isn’t telling me.
Slowly, reverently, he undresses me. He rolls my shirt up, sucking in a breath when my breasts are freed from my bra. He’s been all over them, touched them, tasted them, but every time he sees them he acts like it’s the first time he’s ever seen boobs.
He pulls my shirt off and I keep my hands over my head, sensing that he needs to be in charge, to set the pace.
My shorts are tugged off next. He places a kiss at my navel, then over my underwear before he rolls those down.
I’m bared before him, on display. He’s fully clothed. His shorts jut up where his erection strains. He yanks his shirt off and throws it on the floor by my pile of clothing.
Neither of us says a thing. It’s all about feeling.
Getting off the bed only to take his shorts off, he keeps his hot gaze on me the whole time. Summoning wantonness I don’t know I possess, I bend a knee, giving him a full view of how wet I am.
His lips peel back and for a heartbeat he’s savage, until it melts into a heartbreaking loss. I nearly sit up and demand to know what’s eating at him, but he props a knee on the bed.
I’m going to be claimed.
Resting his hands on my knees, he spreads my legs apart, out and up.
I suck in a breath as cool air wafts over my fevered skin. He stays kneeling between my legs, his gaze tracking my body, as if committing it to memory, each and every freckle, and the exact shade of pink I get when I’m the most aroused.
“You remind me of the ocean. So beautiful that I can’t help but stop and stare and marvel that such a thing exists.”
He’s said sweet things before, but this I’ll remember forever.
He buries his head between my legs and licks me. I arch my back as he flicks my clit with his tongue.
“You taste like heaven.” He circles my tight bundle of nerves. “You’re wet for me and only me.” He doesn’t tease me this time. He attacks me. He anchors my thighs. Every time I move, it’s against his mouth. The only thing he releases me for is to thrust a finger inside. As long as it’s him filling me, I’m done.
Stars explode behind my eyes and I cry out, my hands twisting in the comforter. As the ecstasy of the orgasm washes over me, he pulls away. The emptiness is unspeakable. I need him inside me.
I don’t have to wait long. He settles himself back between my legs, and his strong hands clamp my hips and lift. He shoves inside and I’m so ready, I groan.
Propping a hand by my head, he drapes himself over me as he thrusts. “I love watching you when you come.” He peppers kisses along my jaw and shivers wrack my body, enhancing the way he moves inside me. “The way your eyelids drift closed and your mouth opens. Your nipples are rock hard and begging for my touch.”
Every word he says zings to where we’re connected. I spread my legs as far as I can. His chest rubs against my breasts and his breath whispers over my ear. It’s full-body stimulation.
He strokes a hand down my belly and rests a finger on my overstimulated nub. He doesn’t have to do anything. I do all the work, swiveling my hips to hit where I need it the most.
“That’s it, belle. Take what you want. I’ve got you.”
He has me every way. My moves lose their rhythm as I take everything I need to fly apart. I cry out his name like I’m calling it into the wind on a desolate island.
He doesn’t wait for me to come down, pulls out so fast I gasp at the loss of him.
He turns me over and drapes himself over me. He thrusts inside, earning another cry as pure unadulterated pleasure fills me to overflowing. The slam of his body against mine is enough stimulation to my clit to take me right back to the climax and keep going.
He threads his fingers through mine and plants our hands by my head. His face is next to mine, I’m covered by him.
“Fuck, London. There’ll never be anyone like you. Never.” He grits his teeth and the force of his thrusts increase.
He tenses, his hips bucking enough to send me over the edge. My head thrashes as I cry. This orgasm is bittersweet. Because this time I know down to my bones that something’s wrong. As I ride out the exquisite pleasure, I stare at our interlaced hands.
Even through his own crest, he’s careful to keep his full weight off me. So careful that I want to scream at him. I can take it. I can take anything he has to say, he just needs to give me a chance.
Our hands are still interlocked. I squeeze like he might go flying away when I let go.
“Talk to me, Jacobi. What’s wrong?”
The air leaks out of him and he sags over me. “I think we should get a divorce.”
Chapter 14
Jacobi
My timing is shit. I own that.
“You think what?” She’s dressed again in the clothes I stripped her of. As soon as she realized I wasn’t joking, the temper I’ve only gotten a glimpse of flared to full strength.
I have my shorts on because this conversation is better to have with clothing. It would’ve been better before we had sex, but I’m a selfish bastard.
I try to explain what feels like the shittiest decision of my life. “I don’t know what kind of danger you’re in—”
“You don’t even know if I am in danger.”
It doesn’t matter. “Your safety is priority.”
“From a pervert that you handled once.” She shoves her hair off her face. Her cheeks are flushed from the rapid-fire orgasms I gave her, and I want to beat my chest in pride. But those might be the last orgasms I’ll ever give her. Because even if she’s safe, she’ll never forgive me for what I once tried to do. And I can’t keep evading the truth if we’re together.
Call me a coward, but this out will hurt her less.
“I could get abducted the next time I go get groceries.” She flings a hand out. “I might have grown up entitled, but I didn’t grow up with a bodyguard. Hello? I’m a woman. I grew up thinking I could get stolen if I rode my bike out of Dad’s sight. Or if I scrolled through my phone in a parking lot. I’ve parked under lights, close to entrances after dark, and stayed away from vans when I’m alone my entire life, Jacobi. Whatever Sully is threatening isn’t anything new to anyone who grew up female.”
She has a point, but those are generals. “It’s still a specific threat to you.”
She plants her hands on her hips. “What’s the real reason?”
“The real reason is that I care about you.”
Her expression softens. “We can work with that. I care about you, too. I mean, look at us after the way we married. I think we’re doing pretty damn well.”
“It’s not enough, London.” I wish I had a reason to drive her away. And I do. It’s a doozy, but I’m not willing to hurt her like that. “Look. We make a big deal out of a divorce, it makes Sully think there’s no reason to pursue you to get to me, and then maybe once the dust settles…”
“This isn’t over between us?” Her voice hitches. She’s hopeful.
It should be over. It really fucking should be because before she came into my life, I was a degenerate hell-bent on revenge—no matter what it cost. “It is until Sully’s taken care of.”
Tears glitter in her eyes. “You find him and you come back to me?”
I’m keeping this damn door open between us when I know full well why I should slam it shut. But I can’t.
And there’s always a chance—I can’t even think it without wanting to destroy something—there’s always a chance that she’ll move on. Find someone who doesn’t have to hide a terrible secret from her. Someone who doesn’t morph into a psycho when it comes to her. A guy she’ll willingly marry, one who knows what a goddamn treasure she is.
If she’s smart, that’s what she’
ll do. “I will find who’s doing this. I promise you that.”
Her nod is shaky. She shoves another hand through her orange-blond locks. “I just got Diana back and I can’t help but feel like I’m losing you.”
“You will. For a while.” If I can control myself and stay away, it’ll be longer than that, and it’ll be for her own good.
She hooks one hand over her elbow, her stance so uncertain it breaks my heart. “I suppose you have the papers ready to go? That seems to be your thing.”
“They’re in my office.”
“Mr. Turlowitz?”
“Yes. I told him to go for a divorce versus an annulment. It seems more acrimonious that way.”
Her expression cracks, but she holds herself together. How did I get so lucky that this woman is sad to divorce me? Never in my wildest dreams did I think she’d feel anything less than hate. If our parents had been different people, we might’ve grown up together. Had a kid by now. Or at least we’d be planning a destination dream wedding. Maybe one that had all our parents still alive and at our sides.
Because one thing I know for sure is that if I ever met her as a kid, there would’ve been no one else I wanted. Fuck the age difference. I would’ve waited. I might’ve even been a man she’d be proud to marry.
“Does he have to be here to sign them?” she asks.
“If someone’s watching, it would make a better show.”
She draws in a shaky breath. “Okay. Call him then. Tell him to meet us tomorrow morning?”
I cock my head.
“I want one more night with you, Jacobi Dixon. If I have to wait God knows how long before I get to be with you again, I call dibs on tonight.”
There’s nothing I won’t give her. Except honesty.
* * *
London
My hand trembles as I sign my name on the divorce papers. Mr. Turlowitz looks on, as nervous as he was on our wedding day. This time, I think he senses how badly I don’t want to sign them and I’m sure he’s as confused as hell.
He’s not the only one.
My luggage is already by the door, waiting for Diana to pick me up in a half-hour. And despite Jacobi’s placating agreement about this being temporary, the finality of my signature resonates through the room’s silence.
Mr. Turlowitz’s gray seersucker suit crinkles at the waist as he shuffles the documents and files them in his briefcase. “I’ll send you both a complete copy for your records. Thank you, Mr. Dixon. Mrs. Di—Uh, Ms. Vanderbeek.”
I didn’t even have a chance to write a page full of London Dixon like Jacobi and I laughed about.
The lawyer leaves faster than he arrived. It’s done.
I stare across the office at Jacobi. His face is drawn. This goodbye is too heavy to be a see you later. He still isn’t telling me something.
Last night was full of hot, needy sex and I slept in his arms until we had to get out of bed to pack my things. I’m keeping most of my stuff here.
“Are you stopping in at work first?” he asks quietly.
“Yes. I told Diana that I would put on a good show.” And I really have work to do. She asked if I wanted to stay over with her, but the floor of my penthouse called to me more than getting coddled by her. This divorce would feel too real if I cried on her couch all night.
His phone dings. Diana must be at the gate. He carries my bags outside to wait.
“It’s okay to call you, right?” I squint into the sun to look at him. The halo of light around his head shadows his face.
“It’s best if we limit contact.”
“But not completely, right?” I hate the hint of whine in my words. All my relationships ended with me practically begging. I’m not going to end my forced marriage that way.
That’s some serious fuel I can use to beat myself up with when I’m feeling down. He forced you to marry him and you still had to beg him not to leave you.
Right. I’m not begging. I slide the perfectly fitting ring off my finger and press it into his palm. His expression hardens and his throat works. “I want you to keep this for me.”
Diana pulls up, and I step away from Jacobi before I do something that breaks my no begging resolve. He fists his hand around my ring and shoves it in his pocket.
When she parks, her appraising glare is focused on Jacobi. She switches her gaze to me and concern fills her eyes.
She doesn’t say anything as Jacobi loads my bags, but she opens the door for me and closes me inside. She doesn’t get in the driver’s seat as quickly as expected. I look in the rearview mirror and see her back to me. Jacobi’s face is carved out of granite. He nods once and walks away.
I wait for him to look back.
Diana gets in. “I’m sorry, London. But it’s for the best.”
I don’t bother to nod, just watch Jacobi as he strides away. A lump forms in my throat when he opens the front door and disappears inside.
He doesn’t look back.
Tears burn as they fill my eyes. They track over my cheeks, leaving hot trails that I hastily swipe away. I don’t know why I bother. I shouldn’t need to seem strong for Diana. We were in this same spot when she was sobbing and I was holding strong for her after I married Jacobi. I can’t bring myself to fall apart.
This isn’t over.
She drives me to work and I check the mirror to make sure I don’t look like the haggard mess I feel like inside.
“Are you sure you want to work?” Diana asks quietly. “We could go have a coffee. Take a walk.”
“No, we’re supposed to make this look real. I have to look like I’m relieved to be divorced, not bothered.”
“Aren’t you relieved?”
I meet her perplexed stare. “No. Not at all. I… liked being married to him.”
“Even after he…” She shakes her head. “Only you would turn those lemons into gourmet lemonade. You look fine. No one knew you were married. It’s a rumor at the worst. Just act normal and let everyone not in-the-know assume that it was just talk.”
I square my shoulders and walk in like it’s just another day, one from before Cabo. I greet my assistant and wave to the employees I pass. I don’t miss the surprise on people’s faces. I haven’t been in the office for weeks. George from marketing pops up like the Pope is striding by. Melika in accounting leans out of her office. Dorsey’s wheeling a new load of samples to the test room. They all stop and watch me stride by.
Diana enters my office with me. “Are you sure you’re going to be okay here today?”
“Word’s already out. I’m at work. I hate letting them wonder.” I wasn’t secretive with my staff, but whether I married or not is deeply personal.
“It’s nobody’s business,” she agrees. “It’s not like you went around announcing that you and Jonathon broke up.”
No, but I’ve shown up without my engagement ring. With Jacobi, I never came to work with a ring on from him in the first place.
I fiddle with my finger. It’s naked. Just like my emotions.
I dig my phone out of my purse. I should leave it alone, but I have to text him. A month together and I’m so used to having him around to talk with. My finger hovers, then I type How’s it going? and put it away.
The hours pass quickly as I catch-up on a ton of work. No one bothers me, and I’m confident that’s Diana’s doing. Even my assistant sends me one giant, bulleted email before she leaves for the day.
Diana taps at the door. It’s well after eight. “Ready to call it quits for the day?”
I only looked at my phone three times—an hour. No reply from Jacobi. I could work all night, but my mental strength is sapped after this morning. If I stay, I’ll only make mistakes.
“Yes, I’m done.”
Thankfully, no one else is in the office and I can slink out the worn, dejected woman I am. Diana doesn’t invite me over again or I might’ve caved and taken her up on it. I don’t want to go to my empty penthouse and sleep on the floor, but that’s my new normal. Tomorrow, I’ll f
ind a futon or something to get by until…
The look on Jacobi’s face when I wanted him to tell me we weren’t completely over.
The drive to my home is quiet. I pretend to scroll through my phone, but I send another text. Can I call later?
Diana pulls up to the entrance and I get out. She wants to help me with my bags but I shoo her away. It isn’t more than I can carry, so I wave off the doorman’s offer to lend a hand too.
This feels like the worst walk of shame in history.
The elevator reaches my place and dings open. A faint light illuminates… everything.
The doors start to close but I slap them back open and step out, dumping my bags on the floor.
What the hell?
It looks just like I left it. Better, even.
All my furniture is moved back and arranged. A pleasing floral scent fills the air like it has been freshly cleaned.
I call Jacobi.
It rings and rings. He doesn’t answer.
I try again.
No answer.
“Damn it, Jacobi. Pick up.” I text him. Did you do this? Did you move all my furniture in?
I recall when he asked if I was going to work first. Was he arranging this with Diana when he loaded my stuff?
It’s a thoughtful gesture, but it also leaves a sour taste in my mouth. He isn’t answering my texts. He isn’t answering his phone and he’s never without his phone. And he set me back up in my penthouse like I never left.
I slam my phone on the counter and busy myself with hauling my stuff to my room. My bed is made just like it was the day I was here with him.
I make myself wait a full hour for him to reply. My anger steams up my blood until the pressure in my head builds like it’s going to pop right off. Did he lie about the reason for the divorce? Did he just want me gone?
I refuse to believe it.
Not with the way we made love before I left.
Redeemed: Ruined and Redeemed Duet - Book 2 Page 12
