“This is all very interesting, but I’ll remind you that you did, in the end, jeopardize me. You fucked me. In every sense of the word. So, tell me, why are you here now?”
“Because you’re mine.”
“No, I’m not.”
“Lena, you’re mine until I decide otherwise. And right now, you need to hear the rest of what I came here to tell you.”
I couldn’t think of a response and was still trying to recover from him voicing his possession of me, so I decided to stay quiet.
“You have to understand the position I was in, Lena. I wanted you. More than I’ve ever wanted anything in my life, I wanted you. I wanted to save you, to be with you, to help you. But I also wanted to give myself to you. I wanted everything with you. But, it wasn’t that simple. I could have told Edgar to fuck off, could have just snatched you up, shown you everything you’ve been missing in your sorry excuse for a marriage with Derrek, and it was damn tempting to do it. But if I didn’t play my cards right, Piper would be right back where she started. I had to protect her, but I couldn’t just let you go.
“It would have been so easy to just take the job and seduce you, but I knew I’d never be able to walk away. So I had to figure out a way to keep you while still keeping Piper safe. It just turns out that Derrek and Edgar were a little smarter than I gave them credit for.”
“What do you mean?”
“Those pictures you saw? The ones of us together?”
I swallowed hard. “Yeah?”
“Those were supposed to be taken at your house. That was the deal. I was supposed to sleep with you in your bed. Derrek had cameras in there for weeks just waiting. That’s why I insisted we leave. I wasn’t going to give him the ammunition.” He rubbed his hand over his bearded jaw again. “So I made sure we never had sex in your house. Do you remember? You remember how I made sure we left?”
“Yeah?”
“You remember how, right before I slipped into you, I made you tell me you wanted it?”
My heart simply stopped at his words. I’d thought about him and I together that way a lot over the last couple of months, remembering the way we were together, how possessive and domineering he was, but also how tender and sweet he could be. But even with all the nights I laid awake thinking about him, I hadn’t recalled that moment until now.
“I couldn’t tell you just then how important it was to me that our being together was your decision, but it was. I needed that. Needed you to know that, in the end, you wanted it just as bad as I did. You wanted me.”
“You said if I chose to be with you, it would be only you from then on. You said you’d protect me and keep me safe.”
“That’s all I’ve been focused on doing since you left.”
I scoffed.
“You handed pictures of us, together, right to him. Pictures of you buried inside of me. I was mid-orgasm in that picture. And you just gave it to him.” Tears threatened, my breath hitched, the heartbreak of his betrayal bubbling over inside of me.
“I did nothing of the fucking sort,” he snapped, leaning over the table toward me, his hand slapping its surface loudly, jarring me.
I wiped away the tear that had escaped. “Your credibility is shot, Preston. That photo came from your house. How else did he get it?”
“That night – the first night we were together – that’s the reason Edgar tailed me and cornered us in that alley. Once I took you from your house, he knew I didn’t do it his way; that I wasn’t going to. So, he sent someone to my house to plant that camera there. Edgar was stalling me so Derrek could still get his proof. I was never going to give him what he wanted. I would never do that to you. I never knew the photos or videos existed. I’ve never seen any of them.”
I was losing a battle I’d been fighting for weeks. I wanted to believe him so badly. I wanted to believe that he’d never meant to harm me, or cost me everything. I wanted to believe everything he was saying.
But he’d lied to me.
And I wasn’t sure how big or small that was; how significant or insignificant. Surely, if he was lying to me to help protect his sister, I could forgive him that, right? But that would mean I’d have to believe him – have to believe the whole story – from beginning to end. I’d have to believe he felt our connection as deeply as I had. That he cared about me. That he was hurting without me. That he’d come after me.
He must have sensed my wavering, must have picked up on the fact I was getting lost in the possibility of believing him, because he moved toward me.
As if in slow motion, his chair slid across the floor and his thigh was pressed up against mine. The warmth of his hand wrapped around the back of my neck, holding me firmly, pressing his fingers into me just enough to make me gasp. My eyes slowly closed, as if using my vision would be sensory overload coupled with the feeling of his touch on my skin. Then his nose moved over my cheek, nuzzling me, stopping when his lips were pressed against the shell of my ear.
“I can’t be apart from you anymore, sweetheart,” he said so quietly, it was barely a whisper. “I love you, Lena. You have to believe me when I say it was always you.” His breath pushed up against the skin of my cheek, sending shivers throughout my body. “Everything I did, I did for you.”
“I want to believe you,” I said, bringing my hand up to cradle his face, eyes still closed, not caring that anyone in the coffee shop could be witness to our private moment. “But if I let you in again, if I choose to believe you and I’m wrong, it’ll break me. You’ll break me.”
“Please let me take you somewhere. I don’t want to have this conversation in a coffee shop.” His thumb was brushing up and down the side of my neck and all I could do was nod. He stood and held his hand out for me. Placing my hand inside his warm, strong one was like curling up with my favorite blanket. It was familiar and reassuring.
He led me outside to the motorcycle I’d seen him on days before.
“That was you,” I murmured.
“Huh?” he asked, reaching into a compartment and pulling out another helmet then handing it to me.
“I saw you on this bike the other day. I saw your hair and your leather jacket and knew it was you, but convinced myself I was just wishing you here or something.”
He gave me a sad smile and then pulled the helmet over his head.
“I didn’t know you could drive a motorcycle,” I said, pulling on the helmet.
“I looked into having my Lotus shipped over here, but it was too costly, especially since I wasn’t sure I’d even get you to agree to talk to me.” He swung his leg over the bike and I nearly went cross-eyed. He looked sexy behind the wheel of his Lotus, but he was sinful on the back of a bike. “Climb on.” His words could have stopped my heart, could have liquefied every part of my body, but instead, they sounded tense and worrisome.
“You’re sure you know how to drive one of these?”
“Lena, you can trust me.”
Suddenly, I wasn’t just going on a motorcycle ride, now I was making a decision as to whether or not I trusted him. I wanted badly to climb behind him and let him lead me wherever he was going, but hesitated for just one moment. I ran all the facts I knew through my brain, tried to weigh what I knew against what I felt, and the scale tipped just slightly toward him. In truth, the last pebble to fall on his side was Sam. I knew Sam wouldn’t be here, encouraging our relationship, if he wasn’t trustworthy.
I followed his example, having never been on a bike before, and swung my leg over the back. I found that as soon as I lifted my feet from the ground, gravity slid my body down the seat until I was snuggly pressed up against Preston’s back. His hard legs and hips fit against the inside of my thighs. I laid my hands tentatively on his waist, but he grabbed my hands and wrapped them around him.
“Hold on tight.”
My lungs snapped shut with his words, my mind instantly picturing Preston behind me as I was on all fours, open and waiting for him, right before that damned picture was taken of us. I squeeze
d my arms around him, both trying to hold onto him safely, but also to push all the humiliating thoughts from my mind of Derrek seeing those photos.
He smelled incredible. The scent that was simply Preston mixed with the unmistakable smell of his leather jacket was enough to force my eyes closed as I breathed him in.
The bike suddenly jolted forward, moving into traffic, and I yelped, unprepared for the movement. His hand came off the handlebar and rested against mine clasped to his chest. He ran his hand over mine a few times, soft and gentle, before putting it back on the handlebar. I relaxed as the ride went on, getting use to the unfamiliar feeling, leaning into turns and being so vulnerable to every car on the road.
It occurred to me about ten minutes into the ride that Preston was an excellent motorcyclist, and he must ride often to be that proficient at it. I began to relax and enjoy the scenery passing me by. I hadn’t thought to ask him where we were going, but I didn’t worry about it. I was willing to go wherever he wanted in that moment.
We left the city proper and started to ride away from the commotion. The road we were on wound up the hills of a volcano in the middle of the island.
On one straightaway, I watched as Preston took his hand from the bike and placed it high up on the outside of my thigh, giving it a firm squeeze. The touch was simple but meant so much to me. It was thankful, as if he were glad I was with him in that moment. It was regretful, as if he were sad this was the first time I’d been on the back of his bike. But it also felt possessive, as if he were just reaffirming that I was, indeed, his. All I could do in response was snuggle in closer to his back and let my hands roam a little freer across his chest, pull myself into him further.
After about an hour, he pulled off the main road and onto a gravelly path that led to what seemed like an unofficial lookout. Obviously, many people came here to admire the view as indicated by the pieces of litter along the edges of the area.
He flipped out the kickstand with his foot and I unwound my leg from the bike, eager to stand and take in the view. I pulled the helmet off and a smile spread across my face. The view was absolutely breathtaking. Blue ocean met blue sky, wispy clouds far off in the horizon, and white waves crashing onto the shores below.
I turned, a smile still stretching my cheeks, like I hadn’t smiled in weeks, to find Preston leaning against the seat of his bike, ankles and arms crossed.
“Don’t you want to come see the view?”
“I like the view from here just fine.” He smiled as he spoke, but it wasn’t the brilliant smile I wanted to see. “Come here,” he finally said, the darkness back in his voice. I walked to him and stopped a few feet away. “I did a lot of talking back there. Is there anything you want to say to me?”
His question caught me off guard, but I thought about it for a second. Then I shrugged. “Why weren’t you just honest with me from the beginning?”
He sighed heavily and ran a hand over his bearded face. “Looking back, that might have been the better choice. But just because I lost my mind when I saw you that first day, didn’t guarantee you felt the same way about me. I guess I figured if I could get you out of your marriage unscathed, I’d done my job.” He paused and looked me in the eyes. “I wasn’t planning on falling in love with you, Lena.”
“That’s the second time you’ve said that today,” I murmured.
“What?” He looked puzzled.
“That you love me.”
“I’ve said it to you in my mind a million times.” He stood, pushing off his bike, moving closer to me. “I’ve said it silently to you while you’ve slept next to me.” He took another step toward me, leaving just half a foot between us. “I’ve said it out loud, praying you could hear me an ocean away.”
“I feel like I’m on a roller coaster,” I whispered, looking down at my hands, wringing them in the space between us. “For weeks now I’ve cursed you, hated you for how you betrayed me. Then, you just show up, and you seem to have an explanation for everything. And I want to believe you, Preston, I do.” I took in a breath, bracing myself. “I want to believe you and go back to the blissful place where you and I were exploring what it meant to be ‘us,’ and let you in all over again, but I’m scared.”
“I know,” he said as his hands reached gently for my face. My first instinct was to pull away, to keep a safe distance from him, but I couldn’t move. He brought his hands up to my jaw, fingers curled, the back running along my jawline and down my throat, leaving a warm tingle in their wake. My eyes closed again and I swallowed, trying to keep down everything his touch evoked. Then, his fingers opened and slid around to the back of my neck, his thumbs resting on my cheeks, pulling my face even closer to his. “I want you to trust me,” he said softly. “But I know I have to earn that back from you. But please, tell me you’ll give me that chance. Let me show you.”
I could feel his breath on my lips, could smell him all around me, and feel his hands on my skin. Then, suddenly, I was touching him too. My hands tentatively rested on his chest and he took in a small but audible breath at my touch.
“Please, sweetheart,” he begged. It was as if he was asking for everything: to forgive him, to love him, to be with him, to let it all go and move forward. I couldn’t answer him, didn’t have all the resolutions he was looking for, but I could kiss him. So I moved my lips just close enough to his to feel the warmth of them. Then, like I’d given him the first ray of light in a dark room, he took my mouth and showed me how sorry he was.
It wasn’t a soft kiss. It wasn’t a slow kiss. It was a desperate kiss, as if he were afraid I was going to change my mind at any moment and he was trying to soak up as much of me as he could before I came to my senses. But my senses had fled and left me alone with this man and his mouth.
It was a hungry kind of kiss, the kind of kiss that was vocal. I could hear him kissing me, all the growls and groans. I didn’t need to worry about breathing because, somehow, the kiss was breathing for me.
His hands were still on either side of my face, holding me to him, turning me every which way, trying to reach every part of my lips with his. My fists gripped his jacket, then blindly found their way to the zipper, pulling it down and finding his shirt underneath. I slid my fingertips down his torso, remembering every ripple of corded muscle, every ridge. When I reached the hem, I slipped my hands beneath it and started my journey back up his stomach, this time feeling his warm skin against mine.
He spun us around, one hand coming to my back, and he pressed me down to sit on the seat of his bike, straddling my knees.
Then, he shifted gears unexpectedly and I was floating. His mouth was a whisper upon mine and he feathered his hands down my neck, along my jaw, teasing my collarbone.
All the times Preston and I had been together, he’d been all manner of lovers. The first time was hard and rough; the release of all the tension we’d built between us. The second time was sweet and slow; a celebration of finding one another. But this, dear sweet Lord, this was divine. He was worshiping me, giving thanks, and each kiss was a prayer. Each kiss seemed almost breakable, so fragile, and it was perhaps that moment, in that kiss, I realized how sorry Preston actually was.
The reverence with which he touched me, the gentleness, it broke something inside of me. The dam I’d built, the wall I’d erected, and it came crashing down. Each tender kiss from him was like a wrecking ball to my defenses. Tears started streaming down my face, but for the first time in months, they were a mixture of sad and happy tears.
A sob broke free against his mouth, and then his hands gripped my hips and he hauled me up against him, lifting me off the ground. My legs went around his waist without a single thought, and then he sat the bike so he was balancing on it and I was straddling his lap. His hands moved upward, moving over my back, curving over the top of my shoulders, pulling me down to him even more.
I cried against him and eventually my face found the crook of his neck and I let everything out I’d held on to so tightly since that day when I
thought my world had fallen apart. He let me cry. He held me, rubbed every part of my body available to him with his large, strong hands. He whispered to me, trying to calm me.
“Shh. Baby, please.”
His voice was shallow and broken, hurting along with me.
“I’m so sorry.”
I could hear the sorrow in the low timbre of his voice.
“Everything is all right now.”
I believed him.
When I’d finally exorcized all the emotions from my body, I pulled away and looked at him. He looked just as wrecked as I felt with worried eyes and creased brow. I cupped his jaw with my hands and spoke softly to him.
“I forgive you.” I shook as I spoke the words. I wanted him to hear me say it, so I said it again, louder this time. “I forgive you, Preston.”
“Lena—“
“No, let me finish.” I took a breath and trudged forward, staring into his eyes, watching the worried look from his face slowly disintegrate. “It was shitty that you lied to me.” I watched as he opened his mouth to speak, but I narrowed my eyes at him. “But, I understand why you did it.” My thumbs brushed over the peaks of his chiseled cheekbones under his beard and a smile crept across my face. “And if I didn’t love you so much, I would probably hold it against you forever.”
I watched as the understanding moved over the features of his face as he realized what I had said and what it meant. His hands slid down my back, coming to my sides just over my ribcage, his thumbs just brushing the sensitive skin at the underside of my breasts through my shirt.
“You have no idea how much I’ve missed you, how many times I stopped myself from getting on a plane and just coming for you. You’ll never know…”
“It’s okay,” I said, my forehead pressed against his. “I wasn’t ready for you. If you’d come any sooner, I probably would have turned you away. I was pretty mad at you for a while.”
“I’m sorry.”
I pressed my fingers against his lips, effectively stopping any more words he tried to speak. “I know, and it’s over. No more apologies.” I ran my index finger along the length of his full bottom lip, then I moved down and took it into my mouth.
The Private Serials Box Set Page 23
