The Remake
Page 11
“Yes, ma’am.”
“And you need to plan a very romantic Valentine’s dinner for me.” When he blinked, she added, “It’s just over a week from now. You better not forget it.”
The smile in his eyes and on his lips was warm and sexy. “Yes, ma’am. It will be the most romantic Valentine’s Day dinner you’ve ever had.”
“Well, that won’t be hard. I’ve never had a date for Valentine’s Day.”
“Then I’ll work extra hard at it. So, ma’am, what else would you like to boss me around about?”
She knew what he had in mind. She could feel it at his groin. She reached down to stroke up and down his thick erection, loving how his breath hitched and leg twitched in response. She leaned down to kiss him slowly. Then she said against his mouth, “I’d like you to throw away your old jacket.”
“Yes, m—” He jerked. “What?”
“You heard me. Now say ‘yes ma’am’ and we can have a little fun.”
“No. I’m not going to throw away my jacket.”
“But it’s ancient. And ridiculous.” One of her hands was still on his erection, and she was smiling as she rubbed her cheek against his beard.
“I don’t care. I’m not getting rid of it.”
“But you’re supposed to let me boss you around. So say yes.”
“No.”
She laughed against the crook of his neck. “I knew you wouldn’t be able to do it.”
“You cheated. You knew I’d never agree to that.” He gathered her up in his arms and then turned them both over so that he was on top of her. “That’s bad sportsmanship.”
“No, it’s not. Bad sportsmanship is saying you’ll let me boss you around and then backing out after only two minutes.”
“I’m not backing out. Ask me anything else, and I’ll do it. What do you want right now, sweetheart?”
He was big and hot and strong and tender above her. He was laughing with his eyes in a way she adored. She was really turned on and knew he was too. And she didn’t have an appointment this morning until nine thirty. So she whispered, “I want you to make me come.”
Fire flared in his eyes. “How?”
“With your mouth. Even if it means you’ll have to wash your beard again.”
He was trying to maintain the sexy look, but he huffed with amusement at that. “Yes, ma’am. How many times do you want to come?”
That question surprised her. She blinked. “Three?”
“Is that a question or an instruction?”
“It’s an instruction. Make me come three times. Then maybe we can do a little something for you as a reward.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He started moving down her body, using his lips and his tongue and his beard to tickle and tease until she was gasping and squirming. When he reached the cleft of her thighs, he spent a lot of time drawing it out before he gave her clit any sustained attention.
By the time he sucked hard on her clit for the first time, she came hard and messy, clutching at the covers and hooking her legs over his shoulders. He sank two fingers inside her and pumped them, giving her clit little jabs until she was coming again and then again. When she’d recovered from the rushes of pleasure, he turned them over again so she was on top, and then he edged himself inside her, urging her on as she rode him eagerly. She bounced uninhibitedly, shaking the bed, her breasts, the flesh on her thighs. When she couldn’t quite get there, he found her clit and rubbed it until she was choking out his name on her orgasm.
Only then did he come too. The look on his face as he came—the mingling of pleasure and need and awed affection—was almost more than she could handle. She fell down on top of him afterward, and he took her in his arms. Held her close.
When she recovered her voice, she mumbled, “Now I’m all hot and sweaty and sloppy.”
“Mm-hmm. I like you this way.” He rubbed her back in little circles before he moved down to stroke her bottom.
“I’m going to have to take another shower.”
“No you don’t. You can go through your whole day, all covered in me.”
She shook with laughter and satisfaction. “I’m supposed to be the bossy one here.”
“Maybe we can take turns.”
She lifted her head so she could kiss him. “Sounds like a plan to me.”
BELINDA DID END UP cleaning herself up, but she didn’t take another shower. So all day she felt like she could smell and feel Fitz on her skin.
It was an oddly sexy experience.
By midafternoon, after all her appointments for the day, she was thinking about Fitz again. Wondering what he was doing. What he was thinking. Whether he was as into their relationship as she was.
Whether he’d soon want to stop just trying and commit to this thing all the way.
She was ready. No doubt about that. But she wasn’t going to rush or push him or mess up what they were growing together. It hadn’t even been two months yet. They were doing just fine.
She was thinking about leaving the office for the rest of the day and doing her work at home when the front door opened, causing the alert bell to chime.
“Belinda?”
She recognized the voice. “Hey, Ariana! Come on back.”
Ariana strode in with an excited smile on her face that proved that she had news. “I’m glad I caught you.”
“You did. What’s up? Did something happen?”
“Yes. Kind of. I mean, I discovered something, and I’m not sure what to do with it. I thought I’d ask you about it and see what you think.”
“Sure.” Belinda gestured to a chair beside her desk. “What is it?”
“I was bored this morning, and I had a conversation with Charles that got me curious. So I did some research on the Sheffields. You know, the family whose foundation owns the house we’re renting.”
“Yeah. I remember. They all died in a plane crash or something, right?”
“That’s what I thought. But I poked around a little. And look at what I found.” She unlocked her phone and pulled something up. “Look at this. It’s the only picture of the whole family I could find online. And I really had to work to find it, let me tell you. They were super careful about their privacy, but this was posted by someone else a long time ago from a garden party they attended.”
Curious and also intrigued by the strange excitement on Ariana’s face, Belinda took the phone and peered down at the photo.
It took a minute for what she was seeing to process.
A family was standing together, chatting with an older couple. There was a father and a mother and two adult children who appeared to be in their midtwenties. A daughter and a son.
It was the son that drew Belinda’s attention. He was handsome. Clean-shaven with thick, wavy brown hair. He was tall and fit with broad shoulders and an air of quiet authority, if such a thing could be seen in a photo. He had a dry, clever smile on his face. His eyes were...
She sucked in a breath as the truth hit her hard.
“It’s Fitz. It is, isn’t it? I mean, this is from like fifteen years ago, but it’s got to be him. Don’t you think?”
Of course it was Fitz. With his laughing blue eyes and a clean, square-cut jaw. He was young here. Well dressed in a tailored tan suit. But definitely him.
“I knew he was hiding a big secret,” Ariana said, clearly delighted by her discovery. “He might not be European royalty in disguise, but I wasn’t far off. He’s a Sheffield. A secret millionaire!”
It was too much. Way too much for Belinda to process. Her hand was shaking so dramatically she had to give Ariana the phone back so she wouldn’t drop it.
“Are you okay?” Ariana asked, evidently reading some of her reaction. “I thought it was something good. I didn’t mean to upset you. Are you okay?”
“Yes,” Belinda forced out, fiddling with the pendant on the lovely necklace Fitz had given her, the one she wore every day. “Just surprised. I’ve known him for a long time, and I never.... I never knew that.”
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“I don’t think anyone did. I wonder why he’s hiding it. And what he’s doing here. But I guess he’s the one who made sure the foundation bought our house.”
Yes. It made perfect sense. It was Fitz. Working behind the scenes this whole time.
And never telling her a word about it.
The world felt like it was shaking beneath her feet. She planted her hands on her desktop and took a few breaths.
“Shit, Belinda,” Ariana said. “I shouldn’t have told you, should I? Do you have something going on with him? I’m really sorry if I put my foot in it.”
“You didn’t. It’s really okay. I’m glad you told me.”
“So do you think I should tell anyone else? I haven’t told anyone but you so far. Maybe you want to talk about it to him first?”
“Y-yes. Yes, I do. I’d appreciate it if you’d let me talk to him before you say anything else.”
“Of course.” Ariana’s blue eyes were wide and worried. “What are you going to say to him?”
“I really have no idea.”
THAT EVENING, BELINDA was still trying to figure out what to say as she lay in bed beside Fitz. It should have been easy. Just blurt out that she knew who he was now—everything he’d refused to tell her.
But she was terrified that doing that would bring her entire world tumbling down around her head.
He’d come over after seven, and they’d had a quiet dinner in front of the television. Then she’d taken a long bath—mostly to give her some time alone to think—and they’d gone to bed. It was the first night since they’d gotten together that they hadn’t had sex, but it felt natural he’d spend the night with her anyway. It felt like he belonged there. With her.
But maybe she shouldn’t be so sure of that fact.
A couple of times over the course of the evening, he’d asked her if she wasn’t feeling well. She’d held him off by telling him she was just tired.
She was tired. But she was also a lot more than that.
This one missing piece of the puzzle had made sense of everything. His identity. Who he really was. Now everything she hadn’t understood about why he was the way he was—and why he’d never told her the whole story—made sense to her. But it wasn’t the picture she’d expected. Or wanted.
Fitz shifted beside her. She felt the mattress move. Heard his thick exhale of breath. He turned his head in her direction. “You’re really not going to tell me what’s going on?”
Of course he’d been able to sense her emotional upheaval. She’d never been able to hide anything from him. “It’s...” She trailed off. She couldn’t tell him it was nothing. She didn’t want to lie to him.
He rolled over onto his side to face her. “Are you upset about this morning?” he asked, his words more careful than normal. “Did it spook you or something? If you think we’re moving too fast, it’s really okay. I can back off some. You can just tell me.”
It wasn’t a bad guess, but he had it totally wrong. She’d loved the intimacy of this morning. It hadn’t scared her even a little. She’d wanted it. And even more. “No,” she said, her voice cracking strangely. “It’s not that.”
“Then what is it?” He reached out to touch her face gently. Just the tips of his fingers tracing the line of her cheekbone. “Did someone upset you? Hurt your feelings? Even if you think it’s trivial, I still want to know what it is.”
He was being so incredibly sweet. It made her eyes burn and her throat tighten. She took a shaky breath, trying to swallow over the emotion.
“Sweetheart, you can cry if you want. You can hold it together around everyone else, but you don’t have to hold it together around me.”
It was too much. She started to shake helplessly. And she let him pull her into his arms so she could cry for a minute against his chest.
He shouldn’t be able to make her feel better this way. Not when he was the one who’d made her cry.
“You’re killing me here, Belinda,” Fitz eventually said hoarsely, stroking the length of her hair down her back. “Please tell me what it is. Maybe I can help you with it. And even if I can’t fix it for you, you shouldn’t have to deal with it alone.”
She’d already worked through her tears. She’d never been a big crier, and she wasn’t sure why she’d started now. She sniffed against the bare skin of his chest before she rolled away. Back to her side of the bed.
She stared up at the ceiling, brushing the last of the tears away. She could feel Fitz’s eyes on her face in the dark.
“How old are you?” she asked, the words coming to her before she’d thought them through. She wasn’t any good at this. She’d had no experience at serious relationships. She was probably going to make a mess of this whole thing, but she was going with her gut here.
“What?”
“How old are you? You call me sweetheart and expect me to share my feelings, but you’ve never even told me how old you are.”
He was silent for a moment. She could almost hear the wheels of his mind working, thinking about what she’d said, what it might mean. “I’m thirty-eight,” he finally said slowly.
She nodded and turned her head to look at him. “When’s your birthday?”
“April fifteenth.”
“Tax day.”
“Yes. My birthday is tax day. Nice, isn’t it?” He was speaking lightly, but she knew he didn’t feel that way. It felt like his whole body had tensed up.
“Where were your born?”
“Charlotte. North Carolina. Sweetheart, please tell me what’s going on.”
She pulled the covers up to her neck and stared back at the ceiling as she asked, “Why weren’t you with your family when the plane crashed?”
“I was... I was working.” His voice was very stretched. “I should have—” He broke off suddenly. Then murmured, “Plane crash.”
“Yes. Plane crash. That’s how your family was killed, right?”
He was utterly still. He breathed out, “I never told you that. You know.”
“Yes. I know.” She didn’t sound at all like herself. She was cold and hot at the same time. Her stomach felt like a heavy rock.
“How long have you known?”
“Since this afternoon. Seven hours ago.”
“How...?”
“Ariana stumbled on it accidentally when she was looking into the foundation. She told me. She hasn’t told anyone else yet. I asked her not to.”
She could hear Fitz’s ragged breathing. He still wasn’t moving otherwise. After a long stretch of silence, he rasped, “Are you going to break up with me now?”
“No.” She was too full of tension to keep lying down. She sat up in the bed, the covers around her waist and her legs folded beneath her. “I’m not going to break up with you. But I’m pretty upset about it. Maybe I shouldn’t be. Maybe I should be able to take all this in stride. But I can’t. Why didn’t you tell me any of this?”
Fitz sat up too. He reached out for her but dropped his hands before he touched her. “I don’t know. I really don’t. I wanted to, but I just couldn’t...”
“Did you really think any of it would matter to me? You didn’t think I was some gold-digger or some—”
“No! Of course not. That never occurred to me for a minute. I just don’t want to be that person anymore. The man I was back then. A Sheffield. I can’t deal with that kind of pressure and responsibility, and admitting who I was seemed like it would... bring it all back. I’m sorry, Belinda. I really am. I wouldn’t have hurt you for anything. But I did. Didn’t I?”
“Yes,” she admitted. “You did.” She was getting emotional again, so she had to breathe for a minute until she was under control again. “Maybe it shouldn’t upset me so much—that you kept this a secret—but it does. I can’t help it. It really does. It feels like...”
“Like what?”
“Like a lie.”
“I’m sorry.” He reached over to take both her hands and hold them in his. “Sweetheart, I really am.”
She still didn’t know what to do. None of this was happening easily for her, so she asked the first thing that came to mind. “Why weren’t you with your family when the plane crashed?”
He made a weird choked sound and jerked his head to the side. After a thick inhale and exhale, he said, “I should have been. We had a vacation planned. To Bermuda. But I was working and didn’t think I could get away, so I bailed at the last minute. So they all died. And I didn’t.”
The raw pain in his voice was palpable. It dragged at her heart. “You feel guilty,” she whispered.
“What?”
“You feel guilty. That’s what all this is about, isn’t it? You say it’s the pressure and responsibility you can’t bear. You say you don’t do commitment. But it’s none of that. It’s the guilt you’ve been running away from all this time.” It all made sense to her now. She had the answer to every lingering question.
“No. That’s not it. I’m not stupid. I know it’s not my fault that they’re dead.”
“You know it in your mind. But you don’t really feel that way.”
He was getting even tenser now. Defensive. “I know you’re trying to understand all this without any preparation, but it’s not that simple. It’s complicated.”
“I don’t really think it is. I’m not saying it’s wrong to feel that way, Fitz. I understand why you do. But you’ve been running away from it for years now. Hiding from it. It’s kept you from living life. Kept you from opening up to me. And it’s going to keep us from having a real relationship.”
“It doesn’t have to keep us—”
She wasn’t crying anymore. Something inside her felt empty now, and it was worse than anything. “Yes. It does. You know it too. You’ve known it from the beginning, which is why you spent so long trying not to feel the way you do about me. Why you never made a move. And even now you’ve got one foot in and one foot out the door. Because you can’t commit. You’re afraid that if you do, the same thing will happen again. You’ll make one mistake and lose everything.”