Destined To Fall (Reluctant lovers #1)

Chapter Twenty

What the actual fuck?

It takes longer than I care to admit to pull myself together and exit the room, right as a staff member walks in.

“ Hey, whoa. Can ’ t you read?”

“ Sorry, got lost.” I push past him, ignoring whatever he says in response, and move into the dancing crowd. My nerves are shot to shit as I search out Laura.

I need to leave. Now.

I reach her at the same moment she detaches from her handsy friend.

“ Hey,” I yell in her ear, “ I ’ m leaving. Stay safe.”

I brush past her, heading for the exit, but I don ’ t get far as her hand wraps around my arm, pulling me back.

“ Hold up a minute,” she hollers over the music.

“ I need to leave. I ’ m tired, and you ’ ve got company. Plus, I don ’ t want to cockblock,” I say as I turn, plastering on a smile.

“ Yeah, I ’ m not buying that for a minute,” she yells back at me. “ You ’ re rattled. Why?”

“ What? Did I miss you smoking crack?”

“ Don ’ t get defensive; it ’ s your tell. I saw you with your friend, Vee. What ’ s going on?”

“ I don ’ t know what you think you saw, but go enjoy your new friend, Laura, and stop living through me.” It ’ s a low blow, and we both know it.

She drops her hand from my arm like I burned her, and I desperately want to take it back, but I can ’ t. I can ’ t have Laura pushing right now. I ’ m holding on by a thread.

“ You may be a first-class whore, Vivienne, but that was the first time you were a first-class bitch. Eat a dick, Vee. Eat a motherfucking dick.” And with that, she storms back into the swarm of bodies.

Emotions bubble up, threatening to burst out of my eyeballs, but I choke them down. My own words comeback to haunt me as I exit the club into the frigid night air, feeling like a first-class piece of shit.

Nothing comes for free, everything has a price. Some words cost you more than others. Some actions you can never take back.

A kiss, for example, can cost you everything.

I ’ m a fucking mess. Sleep eluded me , spending the intervening hours since kissgate and bitchgate tossing and turning. All night I debated if I should call Laura, or at least text her, but what would I say? Sorry won ’ t cut it, and I can ’ t tell her about Jeremy. Where would I even start? “ So, I somehow met Max ’ s son, started this weird friendship thing with him sort of by accident, and then by dare, for the last oh, I don ’ t know, three or four months. Which I ’ ve kinda been avoiding and lying about, all because he won ’ t sleep with me. He won ’ t fuck me because he ’ s a good boy, and I want to bone him more than I want my next breath. Oh, and he kissed me. Kissed the ever-loving fuck out of me. And now I ’ m ruined beyond repair.” Nope. Denial, denial, denial!!!

What I didn ’ t debate was messaging Jeremy. No. Fucking. Way. I can ’ t even handle my memories right now, let alone the man in the flesh. Flesh…fuck. But that ’ s all I can think about. His body. In my hand, against me, in me, on me, all the damn things. My body feels like it ’ s on fire, like it ’ s burning from the inside out. And not in a good way. In the it-fucking-hurts-I-want-to-rip-my-skin-off-and-scream way.

But it ’ s Sunday run day, and Jeremy magically turns up at the same time I do, almost without fail. I ’ m ashamed to say I stayed in the shower scrubbing my skin even longer than normal just to stop myself from leaving earlier than I would, refusing to alter my schedule. Given, I shower after my run, not before I ’ ve already fucked that up. I don ’ t want to see him. I really don ’ t think I can handle seeing him. Part of me never wants to see him again, but the bigger part screams in protest at the mere thought of that. Like I said, I ’ m a fucking mess.

I bypass my warm-up. I feel cagey enough and have too much pent-up energy coursing through me to be still long enough to stretch. So I flat-out sprint to Columbus Park, freaking to the max the whole way there. What if he ’ s there? What if he kisses me again? What if I jump him the second I lay eyes on him? What if I drop dead right now because I honest to god feel like I ’ m having a heart attack? I hold my breath in complete panic mode as I clear the archway, but it comes whooshing out so fast my head spins. He ’ s not here.

I don ’ t know if I want to rejoice or crumble, but I do neither. Instead, I run, unable to numb my thoughts any other way. I run harder than I ’ ve ever run before. So hard I puke, twice. Beyond spent, I collapse on a grassy knoll and fight to breathe. I ’ m stuck there for far too long before I can get up and head home with my tail between my legs.

Dejected, I stagger into my apartment, so lost I honestly don ’ t know what to do with myself. I grab a bottle of water from the fridge and head to the master bathroom and run a bath. Everything hurts, and I really don ’ t think I have it in me to stand for much longer.

I put one of my Sunday chill playlists on and step into the scorching water. It takes a good couple of minutes to submerge, the heat almost blistering my skin equal parts bliss and torture. I can feel the aches and stress leaving my body the longer I soak, but the feel of the music changes, and an unfamiliar song starts to play. It ’ s not long before the melody takes over my stress-free bath, taking me somewhere I don ’ t want to go, leaving me feeling like I ’ ve swallowed a bag full of rocks.

The water now cold and unwelcome, I exit tout suite, turning off the music before it creeps in any further and wrap myself in a big, fluffy towel. I pad through my silent apartment , feeling so listless, so lost, and so completely oblivious to my surroundings that I stub my toe.

The string of profanity that leaves my mouth would make a sailor proud as I hop, clutching my poor toe, and look down to see a brown-paper-wrapped square thing. The shape is clearly a picture, but my mind is blanking on where it came from. Intrigued, my first thought—for a change—goes to Antony, and it being another one of his lavish gifts. I rip off the brown paper, a smile plastered to my face for what feels like the first time in days. But the smile crashes to the ground as the embracing lovers I bought at the charity auction all those months ago peeks out.

Well, shit.

I ’ d forgotten all about the painting. Now I ’ m bombarded with a slew of memories associated with it, but I guess more importantly, with Jeremy. I take the painting, wanting it hidden from view—out of sight, out of mind, and all that. If only Jeremy was that easy to rid myself of.

I head to my study, about to hide it under the desk I don ’ t use, when I catch sight of it again. It really is beautiful, and it would be a crying shame to treat it so poorly. Luke put his heart and soul into it; the least I can do is give it a proper home. Settled on putting it up in my study, seeing as I don ’ t go in there almost ever , I shift a few things around to relocate the one above the fireplace and hang it up . I ’ ll get a clear view of it when passing, so that ’ ll do .

It takes me longer than I ’ m proud of to get it up and straight. The irony in that isn ’ t lost on me . Spent afterward, I collapse into my office chair. Swiveling aimlessly, I realize I don ’ t think I ’ ve actually spent any time in here, not since I first moved in. I take it all in as if for the first time.

Quite possibly, it is the first time I ’ ve sat in here.

It ’ s making me picture what it would be like to be in an office. Working at a desk, barking orders, and talking on the phone endlessly. Having a sexy assistant I ’ d shamelessly flirt with. Someone, probably Laura, slapping the rules of conduct and sexual harassment laws on my desk.

The thought of Laura makes my gut churn, but surprisingly enough, the thought of a day job doesn ’ t, not like it used to.

God, what ’ s with that? I don ’ t even know what I would do with myself chained to a desk. Probably get fat. I tend to munch when stationary. Plus, the whole nine-to-five thing in one spot really doesn ’ t appeal.

Once again, though it ’ s no surprise, my mind drifts back to Jeremy. The painting and being at the gallery with him, cubicles, and under meeting room tables. I bite my lip automatically, picturing things I shouldn ’ t.

And now I ’ m angry again.

What the fuck was that at the club? Seriously. It ’ s like he was possessed, except, in a way, it feels like it ’ s always been Jeremy under the surface. Waiting to explode and break control. It ’ s what I ’ ve been pushing for all this time, tormenting him, waiting for him to react and let loose, isn ’ t it?

Damn it.

I run to my closet and throw on whatever my hands land on first, add some shoes to the mix, and bolt for my front door, blessedly remembering to swipe my keys and phone on the way out.

My doorman, George , takes one look at me flying out of the elevator and has the phone in hand, taking no time calling me a cab. Before I can come to my senses, the yellow death wagon pulls up outside Jeremy ’ s building.

There ’ s only one way to find out what ’ s going on, and I ’ m sick of stewing and, frankly, of myself. But I ’ m not going to lie, I ’ m sweating. I ’ m freaking out and second guessing myself like I never have before, but I still knock, though with a shaking fist.

The door opens slowly, hesitantly, as if Jeremy knows it ’ s me, but he opens all the same. Staring right through me.

“ What are you doing here?”

“ What was last night?”

“ Too much alcohol and not enough sense. It never happened, okay? Just forget it.”

“ I ’ ve been trying to,” I mutter, stupidly loud enough for Jeremy to hear.

He raises an eyebrow, bemused.

“ You kissed me, Jer. You broke my number one rule. That ’ s not something you just forget. And I know you have more self-control than that. Why?”

“ You kissed me back.”

“ What? No, I didn ’ t.” His eyes narrow, and he opens the door wider, stepping closer. “ I didn ’ t have time to kiss you back, you…what are you doing? Don ’ t—”

Before I can utter a single syllable more, Jeremy has an arm around me, pulling me to him, his other hand tangling in my hair and his lips devour my own.

Like the fool I am, I kiss him back. With ten years of pent-up lip action. My hands are in his hair, gripping tight, angling his face just how I need it. I maneuver us past his threshold, never breaking stride, kissing him back with all I ’ ve got. I kick the door closed behind me, making Jeremy jump. He breaks our connection, staggering back, his eyes glazed and his lips slightly agape.

“ Like I said,” he starts, clearing his husky voice, “ you kissed me back.”

I shove him hard, and the asshole has the fucking cheek to laugh at me. If looks could kill, my eyes would be incinerating him right now. I stalk over to him, making him retreat and look a little sheepish.

“ Don ’ t look at me like that. You ’ re always one to prove a point.” Touché . “ And despite what you ’ re thinking right now, I do actually respect your rules. That ’ s the last time I ’ ll touch you, I swear.”

“ I ’ m about to prove many a point, the first one being that I was one hundred percent correct on what an excellent kisser I am. The second, you ’ re about to break that promise.”

I kiss him with the ferocity of a thousand suns, with everything I am. I ’ m burning alive, but I ’ ve never wanted anything more in my life. Just to bask in the tantalizing warmth of his lips until I suffocate.

He collapses into a chair, with me still attached and on top of him. I ’ m flooded with memories of the last time I was here, in this very chair, and if I didn ’ t know any better, I ’ d say Jeremy was too. He groans as if in pain, but as I promised, he breaks his word, and his hands crash down on my thighs, gripping them so tightly I groan, or moan—one and the same— in bliss.

Jeremy ’ s hands trail up my hips to grip my waist, his tongue doing wicked, wicked things to my mouth, but all too soon it ends, and he ’ s breaking the kiss a second time and pushing me back.

“ Vivienne …”

“ Jeremy…”

“ This can ’ t happen.”

“ Sure it can. You want it, I want it…two wants make a right here, right now.”

He shakes his head.

“ You and I want different things. This ,”— he indicates between the two of us—“can ’ t happen. We both have rules for a reason—”

“ Fuck the rules. I ’ ve broken every rule for you. Make me understand why is this so important to you. Because from where I ’ m sitting, nothing feels more right than this.”

My heart stills, and my mouth clamps shut. Fuck.

My confession doesn ’ t get the response I ’ d expect. There ’ s no crooked smile. Just a look of…defeat.

“ Jer? ”

His Adam ’ s apple bobs as he swallows, still saying nothing. I continue to stare, willing the truth out of him. He grips me tighter and lifts me up like I weigh nothing, putting me on my feet and getting to his own.

“ My celibacy isn ’ t the issue.”

“ Then…is it me?”

“ No. ” He shakes his head, his eyes boring into mine. “ God, no. It ’ s not you.” Then it ’ s him? “ But you don ’ t make it easy.”

One corner of my mouth twitches with a grin. “ It ’ s my job to make it hard.”

He scoffs. “ Yeah, I ’ m painfully aware of that.”

I frown.

“ Damn it, I don ’ t mean—” He breaks off and abruptly punches his wall. “ Vivienne, I can ’ t.”

“ You can. I could feel it.” I try to lighten the mood. But fail.

“ I can ’ t.”

“ Why? What are you afraid of? It ’ ll be the best sex of your life.”

“ I have no doubt it would be.” There ’ s something in his eyes I can ’ t make out. A bittersweet underlying tone? “ And therein lies the crux of it.”

I frown again, confused.

He steps back into my personal space, his palm coming up to cup my cheek. It ’ s a struggle not to melt into it.

“ I ’ m losing parts of myself every time I ’ m with you. Every time I touch you, I leave a part of myself behind.” He pulls his hand away and turns his back to me. “ I ’ m afraid I ’ ll lose the last part of me, one I ’ ll spend the rest of my life missing, one I ’ ll never get back.”

“ Jer…” I place a hand on his back, and he flinches, spinning so fast I get dizzy.

“ I ’ m a virgin. ”

I ’ m taken aback. Quite literally, I take a step back. Dumbstruck. I can ’ t speak. Can ’ t think , just stare.

“ I ’ ve never slept with anyone. I am celibate, that wasn ’ t a lie. But I ’ m also a virgin.” He shrugs like it ’ s nothing, and in that moment, he ’ s never looked so young, so freaking innocent…

I shake my head, clearly losing my mind.

A few moments, seconds, minutes, I ’ m not sure, pass before Jeremy breaks the silence. The only sound in the room is our two heartbeats racing, against what I don ’ t know.

“ Vivienne, say something, anything…please…”

I try. My mouth opens , but nothing comes out. I close it again, my feet still moving backward the whole while.

“ Vivienne? ”

He can ’ t be. It can ’ t be true. No. Fuck . I shake my head violently and catch sight of how close the door is. My hand instinctively grabs the handle.

“ No. No! Don ’ t you dare! You don ’ t get to leave. Vivienne—” He makes a grab for me, but I ’ m too quick and too far away. I spin, opening the door and slamming it shut a nanosecond later. Before he can open it again, I ’ ve bolted down the hall to the elevator, punching the doors closed. His anguished face is the last thing I see before they slide shut.