“Look at me.”
“It didn’t happen. Just wipe it from your mind. Go to your meeting. We’ll both forget it and everything will be okay,” I whispered desperately.
“Leah, please look at me.”
It was then it occurred to me that his hand was cupping my face but he wasn’t forcing me to do what he wished. And it was then I opened my eyes, turned my head and looked at him.
I shouldn’t have done it. His handsome face was gentle and God, God, more beautiful than ever. His eyes were warm and openly troubled and that looked good on him too.
“I must attend this meeting,” he said gently. “It’s important or I wouldn’t leave you. Not now. Not when it’s essential we talk about a variety of things.”
I didn’t want to talk about a variety of things. I wanted to curl up in a ball somewhere and remind myself to stop being my… fucking… self. Doing stupid shit. Getting myself in trouble. Breaking my own f**king heart.
“Leah, did you hear me?” he asked.
“Yes,” I whispered.
“I’ll make this meeting short. I’ll get home as soon as I can and we’ll talk.”
“Okay,” I agreed knowing I’d take the time he was gone trying to figure out how I could get out of that talk even knowing I’d never get out of that talk.
“We should have talked before,” he told me, his thumb sweeping the apple of my cheek. “I knew that. We didn’t because I was enjoying you and I didn’t want that to interfere.”
He was enjoying me.
God, how could I forget? I was his meal. His f**k buddy. His pet.
God! How could I forget?
I should have remembered. I should never have f**king forgot.
It took everything I had, everything, but I fought back the sting of tears in my eyes and the ball of fire burning in my throat.
When I accomplished this herculean task, I whispered, “Go to your meeting. We’ll talk when you get back.”
“Back home,” he returned immediately and I blinked.
“What?”
“When I get back home.”
I knew what he was saying and it felt like he’d plunged a knife in my gut.
Why did he persist in this? Expecting me to give everything while holding himself away.
“Yes, when you get back home,” I forced out.
His face dipped closer and I braced, every part of me. I knew he felt it. I knew he heard my heart stuttering, my breath coming uneven. I knew he felt my body tightening. I knew it because I knew he had those abilities. And I knew it when I saw his face get even gentler, his eyes warmer and more troubled.
God, why wouldn’t he just go away?
“I told you what we had would be beautiful,” he reminded me, twisting that knife he left in my gut, making me bleed. “And I knew even before you said what you said earlier that you finally understood what I was giving to you. Now, you must understand our future.”
He was wrong.
I already understood it. I always understood it.
I just chose to ignore it.
Stupidly, as usual. Stupid, stupid, stupidly.
“Okay,” I agreed quietly.
His eyes roamed over my face as his thumb moved over my cheek then he captured my gaze and whispered, “It will still be beautiful.”
Wrong again.
“I promise, Leah,” he continued softly.
Fucking liar.
“Okay,” I repeated.
His eyes again roamed my face before coming back to mine.
Then, in perfect Lucien style, he demanded, “Kiss your vampire before I go.”
His words sliced that knife up from my gut right through me, carving me open, laying me bare.
But I did what I was told. Wrapping my arms around his shoulders, I lifted my head the inch it needed to press my lips against his. His opened as did mine.
That was when I kissed him hard, wet, long, giving him everything I had, showing him exactly how I felt, offering him everything that was me. And I did it because that was how I’d been kissing him since this began, at first against my will then gleefully.
But that was the last.
He’d never get that from me again.
Never.
When he tore his mouth from mine, he immediately shoved his face in my neck. His arms again locked around me, his weight heavy on me and he growled, “Fuck, Leah,” against my skin.
He felt it, I knew it. Whether he understood that was the last he’d ever get from me I didn’t know. I also didn’t care. I didn’t care about anything. Not anymore.
My life yawned before me. Years of being forced to live with a man I loved but didn’t love me back and I could never really have. Then years of bitter memories taunting me.
I knew this. From the beginning I knew this.
But did that stop me?
No!
Stupid, stupid Leah.
I forced my arms to squeeze him and my lips to whisper, “You need to go.”
He lifted his head and looked down at me. Then he dipped it, touched his mouth to mine, pulled back slightly and murmured, “I need to go.”
I drew in breath.
Then I was no longer in his arms. With vamp speed, he left the bed.
Numb, I lay still and listened to him brush his teeth, his short shower. Before I knew it, he was wearing one of his fantastic suits, looking gorgeous standing by the bed. Then I was mostly out of bed, my legs dangling, my feet brushing the covers, my torso held close to his with his arms tight around me.
I looked up at him and blinked away the disorientation his speed created.
“I’ll be home soon,” he whispered.
“Okay,” I replied, my hands drifting to rest on his broad shoulders.
He closed his eyes and dropped his forehead to mine.
I used everything in my reserves to stop myself from sobbing.
He lifted his head and opened his eyes.
“Thank you, sweetling, for giving that to me.” He was still whispering, his voice deeper, again rough but now with a different kind of feeling. In any other circumstance, I would think it was beyond beautiful.
Then, obviously, I didn’t. Because he was expressing gratitude for me giving my love and outside of a great house, fabulous clothes, beautiful shoes and unbelievable orgasms, that was the only thing he would ever give to me.
“You’re welcome,” I replied, my voice strange, void, dead.
He didn’t miss it.
“Sweetling –” he whispered.
“You need to go,” I reminded him.
His arms gave me a squeeze before he ordered, “Busy yourself. Don’t think of this while I’m gone. When we talk, Leah, I promise, you won’t feel the way you feel right now.”