Exposed

by Deborah Bladon

  "That's ridiculous." The chuckle that accompanies the words sets me over the edge.

  "It's not." I bite my bottom lip to hold back the anger.

  "Why then?" He leans back against the couch before he crosses his arms across his chest. "Why is Sadie Lockwood so different than the rest of the world?"

  "This." I scream the word as I pull open the front of my sweater. The buttons scatter. The room is so deathly silent that I can hear them all bounce when they hit the floor.

  My eyes catch his for a brief moment before I turn to leave. The hand over his mouth and the clear shock in his eyes say it all.

  Chapter 18

  "How's Dylan?" I sit on the edge of my mother's bed watching her unpack one of the many suitcases she took with her when she raced off to Europe several weeks ago to rescue my brother from whatever legal hole he'd fallen into this time.

  ""Dylan is Dylan," she sighs as she rolls her eyes. "Daddy is staying there for a few more weeks. I couldn’t stand it. I had to get home."

  The faint smile she throws my way suggests that she's back and happy to see me. I know that she's back and happy to be lunching with her friends tomorrow and having her nails done the day after. I've never been high on my mother's priority list.

  "How did the benefit go?" She turns her back to me as she places her jewelry box on her nightstand. "There were no hiccups, were there?"

  "It was fine." I answer. "The usual suspects were here and a couple of new faces."

  "Like who?" She twirls around quickly. I realized at a very early age that the ultimate bait to catch my mother's attention is gossip. The juicier the better in her eyes.

  "Rob Archer has a new wife."

  "What?" The question comes out with a shrill shriek. "What's she like?"

  "Young and pretty." I shrug my shoulders. "I didn't talk to either of them."

  "Who else?" She sits down next to me.

  "There was a guy here I hadn't seen before." I pretend to search my mind for his name. "Hunter Reynolds was his name."

  She stares at my face before she responds. "I've never heard of him. Who was he here with?"

  "I don’t remember her name." I try to pull back a mental image of the woman Hunter arrived with. "She was maybe in her early thirties, brunette, short hair."

  "Was she wearing an emerald colored gown? An off the shoulder gaudy thing?" She motions towards her shoulder as she purses her lips together as if she's just eaten a sour lemon.

  I laugh when I realize she's spot on. "How did you know what she was wearing?"

  "Judith handled all the alterations. She showed me the gowns on Skype."

  I burst out laughing. I don't know if I'm more bothered by the fact that my mother was scoping out everyone's dresses from across the Atlantic or that she was using Skype at all. I'm just grateful she's never tried to talk to me on it.

  "I think that fellow, Hunter, owns a restaurant with her husband." She's a never-ending source of information today.

  "He does consultations for restaurants," I correct her.

  "That sounds right." She quips before she walks over to her suitcase and silently starts sorting through it again.

  ***

  "Are you doing the whole surprise party thing for you mom this year?" Alexa pulls the bright red polish across her toenail. "Because if you are, I want first dibs on the guest list."

  "Why?" I realize that I haven't even thought about my mother's birthday yet and it's less than two weeks away now. "There's a hot guy who works for my dad. I thought I could invite him."

  I shake my head to clear away all of the confusion I'm suddenly feeling. ""What? Why on earth would a guy who works for your dad come to my mother's party?"

  "Sadie," she pulls my name across her lips in a whine. "My dad and your dad play golf. My dad works with the hot guy so it only makes sense that I'd invite him."

  "Whatever you want," I say only because I can't follow her train of thought for longer than a minute at this moment.

  "Unless Dylan is back, then I'll just hook up with him." She closes the lid on the polish as she waves her wet toes in the air.

  "You're disgusting." I pick through the dozens of bottles of polish she pulled from her washroom cabinet. "You can't sleep with him."

  "Who says I haven't already?" She falls back onto her bed giggling uncontrollably.

  I stick my fingers in my ears. "I can't hear you," I scream. "Stop talking."

  She sits back up and yanks my finger free. "What are you getting the old hag anyway?"

  I laugh at that description of my mother. She's spent a small fortune making certain she looks anything like an old hag. I know she wouldn't appreciate Alexa's view of her.

  "Remember that guy, Jax?" I search Alexa's face to see if it jogs her memory at all.

  "How could I forget that?" She runs her finger down the front of her jeans. "I've thought about him a lot when I've...you know."

  "Shut up." I laugh. "His girlfriend owns a jewelry store in New York. She does custom pieces. I thought we could take the train there one day and get my mom something. She loves jewelry."

  "I love it." She jumps to her feet and bounces on the bed. "The two of us will take Manhattan by storm. Those men won't know what hit them."

  I cock a brow at her. "We're going to buy a piece of jewelry and maybe have a nice dinner. Try to rein in your hormones."

  "What color are you doing your nails?" She's off the bed now searching through her massive collection of polish. "New York screams red, don't you think?"

  I nod as I watch her choose a bottle filled with bright red liquid.

  Chapter 19

  I want to talk. Call me.

  I'd been staring at my phone for almost an hour. I hadn't expected to hear from Hunter again and now I'm gazing at his words sprawled across the screen of my smart phone.

  If I call him I have to face the consequences of my actions. I have to own up to being petty and jealous about his trip. More than that, I have to face him after baring my scar. I hadn't wanted to be so dramatic. I never would have planned it that way. It happened though and now I had to decide whether opening that wound again was worth it.

  I tentatively press his number and wait for it to ring.

  "Sadie." He sighs softly. "You called."

  "You asked me to," I counter.

  "Are you busy tonight? I can hear the trepidation in his voice. It's not the same unyielding, strong tone I'm used to.

  "No. Why?"

  "Can I pick you up in an hour? I'd like to talk."

  I glance at the clock on my nightstand. It will be ten by then. "Sure. I'll be ready," I say the words before I slide my thumb across the screen to end the call.

  I shower quickly and pull on a blue sundress. The very top of my scar is visible but at this point I don't care. I pull my damp hair into a tight ponytail and glide on some mascara. I can't imagine this conversation is going to take longer than a few minutes. I don't want to put too much effort into how I look. The look on his face when I flashed him my chest told me everything I needed to know.

  I wait impatiently on the porch for him to come down the street. I would have told my mother I was leaving but, like usual, she's out on an adventure. Maybe everyone was right after all. My own mother seemed to have more fun in life than I did. The only difference was none of them carried the gift of someone else's heart inside of them. None of them understood my insatiable drive to honor that person.

  He stops the car abruptly before he hops out and takes wide strides to reach my spot on the porch. "Sadie," he whispers as he pulls me into his chest.

  I'm taken back by the gesture and I instinctively want to melt into him. I resist. I know he's not good for me. I knew it when I first saw him the night of the benefit dinner. My better judgement just keeps hiding behind my desire.

  "Let's go." He takes my hand and I feel it go limp. I can't grasp onto his but I allow him to lead me to the car. I feel numb. I'm so humiliated by what I've done. Why did I show him the most vu
lnerable parts of me? Why did I expose myself to him when I know he's only interested in one thing?

  I slide into the car and wait for him to take his seat. "Hunter." I gaze down at my hands as I clasp them together. "I need to say something."

  "We can talk at my place." He starts the car's engine. "It's private. We'll be more comfortable there."

  I gaze out the window as I watch my parent's home fade into the distance.

  ***

  "Do you want anything?" He pushes his suit coat from his shoulders and pulls off his tie. "I have wine, water, some juice I think."

  "I'm fine." I watch as he unbuttons the top button of the navy blue dress shirt he's wearing. I'll never get over how handsome he is. I know I'll never meet another man who measures up to him in any way.

  "I'm sorry it took me so long to call after..." His voice fades as he sits next to me. "I wasn't sure you wanted to talk to me again."

  I pull my gaze up with a breathy sigh. "I'm sorry." I search for the right words. They were on the tip of my tongue all day. I knew exactly what I wanted to say to him and now that he's sitting next to me, I can't think straight.

  "You have nothing to be sorry for." He gently reaches for my hand.

  I don't pull back. "I shouldn't have said the things I said. What you do or don't do in Denver or anywhere else is none of my business."

  "Sunshine." He inches closer to me on the couch. I feel my heart jump at the sound of his nickname for me. "When I'm working I'm typically holed up in a hotel that is opening a new restaurant. My whole focus has to be on that. I run into so many logistical problems that I can't even remember what day of the week it is, let alone what the weather is like."

  I search his face for some semblance of the truth but he's stone faced. Maybe he was actually in Denver and I just jumped to the wrong conclusion. I shake the subject out of my mind.

  "I wanted to tell you about the scar, about my heart." I pull in a breath trying to hold back my billowing emotions. "It's so hard. People treat me differently when they know."

  "You're so special." He leans his forehead against my hair. "That makes you even more special."

  I don't want to cry but the softness in his voice and the tenderness in his words are pulling everything I've felt for the past few weeks to the surface.

  "The scar makes you more beautiful to me." He moves his hand from mine to my chest. I flinch slightly at his touch. "It means you're a true gift."

  I try to process his words. "It's ugly." I spit out.

  "Never say that." He reaches to cradle my chin in his hand. "It's amazing. You're so amazing."

  I want to kiss him. I want to fall back into that place of pure pleasure with him. I can't. I won't. I don't want to be hurt by him.

  I close my eyes when I feel his lips brush against mine. Every fiber of my body is calling at me to pull back but I can't. I wrap my fingers through his hair as I let him glide his lips across mine. I'm so hungry for his touch. I've wanted him so much. I don't care if I'm one of many. I don't care if it's only until September. I need this. I deserve it. I want it.

  He pushes the strap of my dress down as his lips kiss a trail to my neck. "You're so beautiful," he whispers into my skin.

  I don't resist when he moves to the other strap and the dress starts to fall. I look down. My nipples are so hard. My breasts heaving under the heavy breaths from my body. The scar is there. It's on display.

  He leans down and takes one of my nipples into his mouth. I moan at the sensation. His tongue traces an outline, pulling the hard bud between his teeth. It's a mix of pure pleasure and pain. I groan at the sensation. I whimper when I feel the cold air attack my nipple as he moves his mouth to the other. He claims it with his hand before pushing the tender flesh into his mouth. I claw at his shirt, wanting desperately to feel his skin against mine.

  "You want this," he growls. "You want me, don't you?"

  "So much," I say through a moan.

  He scoops me up in one movement into his arms. His lips fall hard into mine as he walks down the hallway. "I'm going to show you how much I want you." His voice is low and rough.

  He sets me down on the floor in a dimly lit bedroom. I sense my dress being pulled down. I don't move. I want to soak in every moment of this. I want to know what it's like to be taken by a man like this. Even if it's just for tonight. Even if all I get of him is this one moment.

  I watch as he quickly undresses himself. My eyes run slowly down his body, taking in the muscles of his arms, his chest and his abdomen. I settle on his cock. It's thick, strong and hard. He wants me just as much as I want him.

  He pushes me lightly back onto the bed before he slides my soaked panties down my legs. "I love how wet you get."

  I ache to be touched. I almost whimper at the first whisper of his hand on my breast again. "I want this," I say. I don't care what I'm supposed to feel or want. I can't think. All I can do is ache for him.

  "I have to taste you." He's on his knees at the edge of the bed, pulling my body towards him. "I've been craving this taste for days."

  I push my back into the bed to raise my hips. I know the pleasure that is about to come, I want to drink in every second of it. I want to feel it in every corner of my body, of my mind and of my heart.

  I gasp at the first touch of his tongue on my clitoris. Just seeing his cock has made me so aroused. I know it won't take much to throw me over the edge into complete and utter euphoria.

  "I love the taste of you." He laps at me greedily, pulling my desire to the surface swiftly. I pull on his hair as I come hard. I scream. I can't hold back the emotions. It's too good. It's too much.

  "You were so ready." He's hovering above me now. His lips fall into mine and I get my first taste of my own desire.

  "I want..." I can't finish my thought. I feel his cock rub against my thigh. It's so heavy, so full. I've never been with a man like this.

  "Fuck, Sadie. Fuck." He grabs my hair, pushing it from my forehead before he presses his lips against me. "I'm clean. Tell me you're clean and on the pill."

  I nod. "I am," I say. I haven't been with anyone since Will. "Please," I beg. "Inside of me."

  I push my hips off the bed, trying to coax his cock with my slick cleft. I want him to slide into me. I want to feel that now. I'm going to explode.

  He moans as he enters me slowly. "You are so fucking tight." His breath is labored, his heart pounding against my chest.

  I groan as he pushes deeper. It's so much. I move my hips trying to accommodate more of him. He feels so deep already.

  "I can't control it," he hisses before he pushes himself onto his elbows and fully into me.

  I cry out at the sharp burst of pain. "Hunter."

  "Christ. Christ." He finds his rhythm as his lips skirt across mine. "I've waited forever for this," he whispers into my mouth. "Forever."

  I hold onto his arms, pushing up with every thrust. The pleasure is so deep within me. He grabs my hips pulling them up from the bed. I gasp at the sensation of his cock hitting me in my most sensitive spot. I can't hold back. I'm going to come.

  "Oh god." I cry out as I find my release.

  "Sadie," he growls as he pumps himself harder into me, emptying all his desire.

  I lay still, unable to move. I never could have imagined it would be like that. That I'd feel so much so fiercely. That passion could touch so many parts of me. I'll never be the same again.

  Chapter 20

  "Can we talk about this?" He runs his index finger down the full length of my scar.

  I nod silently. We're on his bed. The sheets are a rumpled mess beneath us and his head is resting on my arm. I'm completely exposed, yet I feel utterly comfortable knowing his eyes are scanning my body.

  "When did you get a transplant?" He peers up at me.

  "I was eleven." I smile back at him. "I was sick for a very long time."

  "What was wrong?" His gaze falls back to my chest.

  "I was born with a defect in my heart." I glance dow
n at his finger once again touching the scar. "I was very ill when I was little. I was in the hospital a lot."

  "That's horrible." His voice is barely more than a whisper.

  "It was." I nod. "I kept getting sicker and sicker so they put me on the transplant list."

  He leans onto his elbow now so he's facing me. "Would you have died without it?" He nods towards my chest.

  "Yes."

  "How did you get it? Where did it come from?" I can hear genuine tenderness in his voice.

  "I was in the hospital one night and my mother came running in and said they found a heart for me." I push back the memory of that night. I was terrified.

  "Do you know whose heart it was?" He asks tentatively.

  "No. They don't tell you." I offer back. "It's all confidential."

  "So you have no idea?" He stops his finger's path so it's directly above my heart.

  "I was able to write the family of my donor a letter," I say quietly. "That was really hard."

  "A letter?" His breath brushes across my nipple.

  "When I was fourteen I wrote them a letter thanking them for their gift and promising them I'd take care of my heart." My voice cracks slightly.

  "That must have helped them." He wraps his arm around my waist.

  "I hope so." I sigh. "They lost someone they loved. I don't know how much comfort my letter gave them. I never heard back."

  "I'm sure it helped them after she died." He traces his finger back up my chest.

  "Or he," I say. "I never knew if it was a man or woman's heart."

  He only nods in response before he moves slightly to place his ear next to my chest.

  "I'm so grate..."

  "Shhh." His voice interrupts me. "This is a miracle."

  I close my eyes as I lie perfectly still knowing he's listening to my heartbeat.

  ***

  "I want to clarify something." His voice startles me and I realize I've dozed off.

  I look down. He's still resting his head against my chest. "What?" I ask sleepily.

  "It's about us seeing other people." He slides up my body so his head is resting against mine. "I don't want to see anyone else."