Never Let Go: Top Shelf Romance Collection 6

by Steiner, Kandi

  I took it back. “I messed up. I got emotional.”

  “Seems like you have a right.” He brushed my hair back, resting his head against the mattress. “I don’t think any of us can imagine what you’re going through.”

  “You can.”

  He shook his head, pursing his lips together. “Not even a little bit. My brother’s an asshole to the umpteenth degree. He’s in jail right now, and he’s mad he can’t get anyone to post his bail. He’s pissed that I won’t take his calls and my lawyers are fielding everything from him. Now, if my mom decides to use her money to post for him, that’s on her. All I can do is protect myself against them. That’s not the same situation as yours at all.”

  But he was wrong. For both of us, there was a hole where our family was supposed to be. Damian had created mine. His brother had created his.

  I settled back against him. “Loved ones aren’t supposed to go away, whether it’s their choice or not. That’s not how life is supposed to be.”

  He ran a hand down from my face, cupping my cheek before falling away. “You’re not close to your family?”

  “It’s not that there’s anything really wrong with them. It’s just… They couldn’t support me while I was losing Damian, and that put a wedge between us. I don’t know how to make that right, especially when they won’t acknowledge it.”

  “They know you guys broke up, right?”

  “No. I had no reason to tell them.”

  He cursed softly, hugging me close. “You shouldn’t go through that alone.”

  I tipped my head back. “But I’m not. Not anymore.”

  A look flashed in his depths.

  Raw. Tender. It was the way he’d looked at me last time when we were having sex, and I turned away from it. I wasn’t ready to see it. After a moment I shifted up, raising my hand to his face. My thumb grazed his chiseled jawline, the dip around his mouth, the rough stubble that told me he’d shaved last night, and then finally, I traced his lips. His breathing grew shallow, and his hand moved more insistently behind me, molding over my hip.

  He turned me to face him more directly, sliding his hand under my leg.

  My breasts pressed against his chest, our foreheads resting together.

  Our lips so close, a tantalizing temptation. He licked his, his eyes never moving from mine.

  “If we do this, it’s not going to not mean anything,” he whispered.

  I swallowed over a lump. I knew what he was saying—a question not in question form. But I couldn’t stop it anymore.

  The calling. The texts. The jokes. The concern. Him being here, making me a priority. And him just being him—I couldn’t go back. I was too far gone by now.

  “I know.”

  He cupped the side of my face, his palm resting against my skin. “It’s going to mean something.”

  He was giving me an out.

  I could pull away, slip off his lap, walk out of the room.

  But really? Could I?

  A door opened inside of me, letting everything out. It flooded me, going through every vein in my body, warming me, filling me with something akin to lightness, hope…happiness.

  I was already gone.

  So I gave him my answer, closing the distance and pressing my lips to his. I held there and whispered back, “It’s meant something for a while.”

  That was all he needed.

  His hand moved to the back of my neck, and his mouth opened over mine. Flames licked my body, teasing me, making me shiver all over. As his mouth slid down my chin, my throat, I let my head tip back. My hair fell free, the ends resting on my back because he had moved my shirt up to pull it free. I lifted my arms, goosebumps breaking out as he took me in. A primal desire flared in his eyes.

  His hands slid underneath my bra straps, and his mouth found my shoulder as he unclipped my bra. It fell away, and he drew it away from me, using it to further torment me.

  His mouth found mine again, coaxing me open, and his tongue slid inside. He did a slow and sensual sweep, claiming me.

  A rumble started in me, vibrating me, making me headier with need.

  “You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, his mouth moving back down my throat. He arched over me, one of his hands cupping my breast as his mouth closed over the other. He sucked me, a nuzzle, a nibble, still so damned slow and torturous. I could only hold on to him, falling back against his arm, now anchored firmly behind me.

  “Fuck, Charlie,” he growled, biting just slightly on my nipple.

  We continued exploring, my hands sliding down his arms, over his chest, around and down his back. Every place my hands went, he shivered under their touch.

  I was writhing now, panting for him.

  His hand moved to my pants, and I bit my lip, keeping a cry inside.

  I needed him inside of me.

  His fingers slipped into my underwear and found me. “Christ,” he hissed, his mouth nipping my throat again. “You’re so wet.”

  I rolled my hips back and forth, feeling him, and then feeling his fingers as they dipped inside.

  “Reese,” I gasped as I started to ride his hand. “Please.” An ache.

  “Go.”

  I held on to his shoulders, and his hand moved down to my back. He urged me on. “Ride me. Come on. Come, Charlie. Come for me.”

  He sat back, his gaze molten as he took me in, his hand gripping my thigh and moving with me. I rode him as his fingers thrust in and out, moving inside of me until the climax started. I came on his fingers, my entire body jerking. I couldn’t move for a second after, and he held me, hugging me to his chest.

  He chuckled softly in my ear before he started pressing kisses to my shoulder, my forehead, my cheek. He dipped, finding my lips, and then moved down to my throat again. With each kiss, he was warming me, growing more insistent.

  I could feel him. He was still hard. His fingers slid out, but he was right there, pressing up against me. Still in his pants, he rasped next to my ear, “I need to be inside of you. Right now.”

  “A condom?”

  “In my bag.”

  I was clean. I was on birth control, which he knew. I looked up at him. “Are you clean?”

  He nodded, but I still saw hesitation on his face. He told me once he never went raw. And I understood why. He was a professional athlete. Wrapping it up was vital for them, but I didn’t care right now.

  All logic had fled my mind, and I reached down for him, tunneling through his pants to find him.

  He hissed, his hips jerking up at my touch.

  I wrapped my hand around him, giving a slight squeeze, just enough to torment him. Then I began stroking. I wasn’t timid about it. I had a good grip, and I knew just the way to touch him to make him go mindless with desire—the same way he had made me feel.

  Cursing, his mouth dropped over mine. “Can we do this bare? I need to feel you.”

  I paused. It was my decision now.

  I couldn’t say anything, but I couldn’t stop touching him either.

  He grabbed my hand, pausing me. “Charlie, I need to know.” His hand went to my hair, taking ahold of the back of my head, and moving my mouth against his. “What do you want? I’m clean. I know you are too. It’s your decision.”

  The temptation was strong. But… “Are you sure?”

  “God, baby.” His tongue moved over me. “I am so fucking sure.”

  Lust skyrocketed through me, and I was nodding before I realized I was nodding.

  He lifted me up, and we both clawed to get my pants off, until I was bare. As he lowered me down, I yanked at his pants until he stood before me.

  Firm. Thick.

  Mine.

  I grabbed his cock and moved over him. One adjustment, and I sank down on him.

  “Fuck,” he hissed through his teeth as his eyes clamped shut a second. His hand flexed over my ass. “You feel so damned good.”

  I was almost shattering apart, just feeling him surge up inside me.

  The sensations. The pl
easure. They slammed through me, almost violently from the abruptness and so quickly after I’d already peaked. Then he began moving over me, his mouth tasting mine, and I went with him.

  Together.

  Our hips rolling back and forth.

  His hand cupping my breast, holding me, squeezing, his hips digging up.

  He was hitting my wall.

  A savage growl ripped from him, and he picked me up, shifted us to the bed, and was between my legs once more. He grabbed my waist and plunged back inside.

  I could only hold on.

  Pleasure seeped into every inch of me, coating my insides. My second climax barreled through me, even more powerful than the first, and I was a trembling mess as he pushed in one last time, his hips rotating, grinding to touch every angle inside, and then he jerked, coming inside of me.

  He groaned, collapsing on top of me, his body relaxed.

  Chapter 35

  We’d taken a shower together and dressed in lounging clothes. Reese pulled on the same sweats he’d worn after his first shower, but I wore leggings and the sweatshirt he’d given me at camp. We’d ordered food in, and the delivery guy had just dropped off our salads, plus two sandwiches for Reese. I’d answered the door this time, preferring to keep Reese to myself, just for a bit longer.

  Grant and Sophia were coming back.

  I didn’t know when, but I guessed we had another hour, maybe two depending on how long everyone decided to talk after dinner.

  Reese asked, “When are you hoping to see Damian?”

  I paused in spearing some lettuce with my fork. “Are you serious?”

  He put a forkful of salad into his mouth, nodding. “Yeah.” Swallowing, then taking a drink of water, he put the bottle back down on the table. “That’s a big deal.”

  I felt a heaviness settle over my shoulders. It weighed me down, but I knew this was the time. This was the moment I would say it all.

  It wasn’t even about Reese. It was about me. I finally could, for some reason, so I needed to. If I didn’t now, I didn’t know the next time the words would come to me, because sometimes grief closes you up and doesn’t let you open. Sometimes grief controls you, and not the other way around.

  I set my fork down and scooted all the way back in my chair, assuming my normal position: feet up on the chair, arms wrapped around my knees. But I didn’t hide my face. I watched Reese right over the top of my knees, resignation taking over me.

  “When you fall in love with someone, you’re not supposed to lose them right away. That’s tragic. I mean, normal breakups—like if someone cheated or lied, I don’t know. Those would be easier, but when it’s something inside a person that takes them away, little by little, each day a tiny bit more, it paralyzes you.”

  I had to take a breath.

  And then, I found I could continue.

  “Damian never wanted to accept what was happening to him. He wanted to deny it. He wanted to remain normal, but every day he had to make a small adjustment to keep the lie going for himself. Suddenly he couldn’t drive during busy times because it was too dangerous, not because it confused him. Not because one time he forgot how to get home, and he had to call me.”

  “Where are you?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “We were three years in. Seven months before the wedding, he forgot my name. He stared at me with this blank look. He was terrified. I thought he was terrified about the wedding, and I teased him about it. I’d had to ask him three times to send the save-the-dates. I thought he kept forgetting them in his car because of cold feet.”

  It hadn’t been cold feet.

  “We lied to everyone. I told everyone he was stressed at his job, and that he wanted to put the wedding off one more year. Everyone… I don’t even know what my family said to my extended family. My sister was panicked, wondering if everything was okay, but I couldn’t tell her. Because I knew my world was falling apart, but even then I didn’t really understand. And I was stubborn. I knew something was happening, but I didn’t want to accept it. I didn’t want to lose him, not just yet. So I held on, and I lied too. I denied too. It’s easier than fully walking away, because what are you walking away from? Your future? Someone who was going to be your husband? The guy you thought would be an amazing father to your future children? The guy who could light up the room with one laugh, one look, one touch. He was mine, and then he wasn’t. The disease took him, but not right away. At first we all became roommates: Damian, me, the disease. It slowly ate at him, and he kept refusing to go in. Kept saying they couldn’t even diagnose him if it was what we thought it was, that it was pointless. That—”

  I couldn’t speak. My throat was scraping against itself. I could taste the blood.

  “And that’s when I lost myself.”

  “Damian …” I’d whispered once in bed.

  He’d rolled over and stared at me. Then flatly said, “Get out.”

  “He was so cold at times. Everything was about keeping his lie going. All he thought about was ‘what-ifs.’ What if he had done this—then maybe he wouldn’t have this happening to him. What if he had done that, and maybe it wouldn’t have happened. If he’d eaten healthier. If he never drank, and he rarely drank anyway. If he’d only had a certain healthy drink. If he’d spent time with—I don’t even know. I thought at times he was trying to learn what he could do to prevent it from getting worse. But that wasn’t what he was doing. He was thinking back on his life, thinking back on what he could’ve done to have lived better. A more fulfilling life—that’s what he told me one time. He yelled at me that I didn’t fulfill him. That he didn’t want me. That he had never wanted me. That he had never been attracted to me, and he’d had to force himself to kiss me.”

  I choked up, pressing the back of my hand to my mouth.

  “Guys want it-girls,” he said. He refused to look at me, sitting on the edge of the bed. “You’re not an it-girl. You’re too nice. But every guy wants her, just ask them.”

  My voice was hoarse. “He tried to break up with me so many times, but I never went. He broke me down, though. Little by little. And I don’t know if he did it on purpose, but the end result was that I was a shell. I had nothing in me to fight him on things, to insist we call his mother, to force him to go see the doctors, to say what was happening wasn’t normal. I just gave in. He threw temper tantrums. He told me how disappointed he was. And I took it.”

  I managed to look up for a moment. “That was my mistake. I took it until I couldn’t stay in our house anymore. And once I walked out of the door, I couldn’t bring myself to go back. My body wouldn’t let me.”

  “Jesus.”

  “But I had to go back. By then he was dangerous to himself. He used to turn the oven on and leave it. He drank hot water once, not even stopping himself until he’d swallowed a good mouthful. He went a whole month forgetting to use soap to wash himself, or shampoo for his hair. He was using my facial cleanser.”

  “What was the breaking point?” Reese asked.

  I almost laughed. “It should’ve been when he beat the shit out of me, right? It wasn’t. No.”

  I’d come down the stairs one night and there was a blizzard going on outside. Windchill was -25 degrees.

  “He left the door open one time. I shut it, not thinking about it, and went back to bed.”

  I shuddered, the memory haunting me.

  “I bolted upright thirty minutes later. I knew—he hadn’t just left the door open. When he went outside, he never closed the door, but he rarely went outside anymore. The door wasn’t closed…because he was out there.”

  Reese drew in a harsh breath. “What happened?”

  “911, what’s your emergency?”

  “DAMIAN!” I could hear myself, the wind. I could feel the biting cold.

  “They found him two blocks from the house.”

  I couldn’t feel my mouth.

  I couldn’t feel my hands.

  I couldn’t feel my legs.

  “He almos
t froze to death, and it was my fault.”

  “No—” Reese began.

  “It was!” I bit out. “It was. I was the caregiver. Me. Not him. I should’ve taken control long before then. He told me over and over again that I had to take him how he was or it was over with us. He threatened me every goddamn time I tried to say something, but I should’ve done it anyway. I should’ve called his bluff. I should’ve broken up with him if he wouldn’t listen to me. I should’ve called his mother as soon as the first symptoms started, but I didn’t. I didn’t because I didn’t want to lose him, but I lost him anyway. He was already gone. That first time he forgot my name? He looked terrified, but it wasn’t because he couldn’t remember me. It was because he thought a stranger had broken into his house. He was terrified of me. That’s the day I lost him; I just never wanted to accept it.” I shoved up from my chair.

  I got two feet before Reese caught me. His hand took mine, and he folded me into him. “Charlie. Charlie,” he whispered, wiping my face.

  Tears. Of course. When were they not there?

  “Jesus, Charlie. I’m so sorry.” He hugged me as I stood frozen.

  There.

  I heard the click. It had happened once before. And it just happened again.

  I felt everything shutting down, turning off.

  I closed up.

  Nothing could hurt me.

  I was a stone-cold statue, whether I wanted to be or not.

  Chapter 36

  I sat on my bed.

  Reese’s phone was going off, and he’d been on it for the last hour, almost since the moment I went robot-style. I caught a few names, but he was trying to keep his voice muffled. I knew he was talking to Juan at one point, then his coach. Who knew who else. People had started calling him. Otherwise I would’ve been worried he was trying to plan a feelings intervention for me.

  “Okay,” he said. “I’ll be there in the morning. Thanks, Coach.”

  The front door opened.

  Grant and Sophia were back.

  They came in laughing just as Reese went back down the hallway. I could see them from my room.

  “Hey!” Grant burped. “Sorry, man. We had to Uber here.”