Chapter 27 #2
“I fucked up,” he grits out. “People fuck up, but people in relationships talk about shit, make amends, and forgive.”
“Since when are you an expert on relationships? Making amends? I haven’t heard you saying sorry.”
He stares at me for a moment, the anger evaporating. I can almost see the fight leaving him, flying out on its dark cloud as some strange sadness sets in his features. I can almost imagine his internal struggle to reconcile deeply ingrained beliefs with the current need.
It’s like he is tasting the words in his mind, but they are so foreign, his brain is rejecting them. “You know I don’t believe in that.”
My heart breaks. Not only for me. Only for us.
But for the little boy who grew up in a world where apologizing is not acceptable. “Saying sorry doesn’t make you weak, Xander. It makes you stronger.”
He hangs his head and then looks back at me, pleading. It’s the strangest thing, seeing a man larger than life so broken. So vulnerable.
“I love you, Cora. The man I used to be when we met was a short pit stop in my life while I waited for you. Can we please move past this?”
“I don’t know.” Another piece of my heart shatters.
“What can I do?”
And this is the reason I’m not yet at the airport. What can I do? That question is his apology.
He can’t say the words, but he showed me time and again with his actions. Sometimes his actions are completely outlandish, but he always tries to do things for me. To care for me.
And unlike at the beginning, when he would give me a random island, he tunes in now, he tries, he asks for guidance.
That breaks my heart further, because I don’t want to be in this situation, but I don’t know how to get out of it.
“I don’t know.” I let out a loaded breath.
“I wanted you so badly that I lied. But the underlying sentiment behind my abhorrent action should count for something.”
On the opposite side of the value scale, across from his genuine loving care, sits his entitlement. And that, too, is something that is a part of his personality.
Something I admire at times because I lack in that area. But right now, it fucking pisses me off.
“So I should just be happy and move on?” I throw my hands up in exasperation. “When you were standing in my bedroom, telling me about your father the day you proposed, I thought you were vulnerable, opening up to me. I thought we were bonding. And you were just spitting lies.”
“The reason for my proposal was fabricated, but the story wasn’t. My feelings that day were real. As real as they are today.”
“You know what I learned over the past few weeks? The revelation about Ethan and my dad? That nothing is what it seems.”
“Don’t you fucking compare me to them.”
I let out a bitter laugh. “I almost started believing you were more than an entitled rich boy… but I guess, sometimes, things are what they look like.”
He steps closer, his chest heaving. “I made a mistake. I wanted to tell you many times.”
I snort. “And I should believe that?” I turn to leave finally. This is such an unproductive conversation.
He grips my arm, forcing me to look at him. “Remember in the car after we went shopping? And when you came home and found me reading with Pavel. Or when I sought you out in the pool yesterday, then last night, and today… Today, we got interrupted by Lottie.”
I jerk my arm away. “So you tried a few times… that makes me feel so much better. You failed to try for the gazillion other minutes we were together.”
Xander’s nostrils flare. We’re riding on a wave of emotions that forces snarls from us we may regret. I guess that’s better than keeping it bottled up.
On the edge of my mind, something screams at me to stop. I’m arguing with him, while I desperately want us to put the argument behind us.
I can’t live without him.
The thought invades me with staggering clarity, at the same time as I’m blinded with a flash.
“Fuck,” Xander utters under his nose, grabbing my hand.
I’m stomping behind him, my heels tearing the dress even more as the paps follow. Xander ignores them, barreling through, rushing us to the car.
“I’m not leaving with you,” I say through my teeth, not wanting anyone to record the words.
I also don’t attempt to wiggle out of his vise-like grasp. Cameras click, and words are shouted. I don’t hear any of it, my focus on the touch of his hand around mine. On the fact that he’s dragging me to safety.
I stumble again, the hem of my skirt now stamped with the sharp spike of my heel. Someone pushes us. I keep my head down, more feeling than seeing the phones of onlookers angled at us.
Xander in New York is fairly anonymous, but clearly on his home turf it’s a different story.
One of the suited guards from the estate appears from somewhere, and with his help we reach the waiting car, engine running.
Before the car barely moves, Xander pulls out his phone and yells at his lawyer. My pulse is slowly finding a regular rhythm. The adrenaline spikes in the past hour can’t be good for my health.
“No, let’s not wait and see…” Xander growls into the phone. “If there are any fucking pictures of my distraught wife anywhere, you’re fired.”
He ends the call and turns to me. “Are you okay?”
I sigh, closing my eyes. “That is kind of a loaded question at the moment.”
“At the moment.” He tastes the words and squeezes my hand. “That gives me hope.”
I want to pull away. He doesn’t get off this easily.
But however many objections I have, I know I will forgive him. This man who never says sorry, but threatens to fire his lawyer because my pictures may appear in the media.
This man who made up a lie, but married me because he really wanted to. As fucked up as it is. Maybe not out of love, but because he wanted to help me. Or be with me?
“Don’t get ahead of yourself.” I turn to the window, but I keep my hand in his.
Not holding—just letting the touch slowly rebuild the shaken walls of our union.
“Fair enough.” He brings my knuckles to his mouth.
“I only wanted to protect myself.” The adrenaline crush seeps into my bones, the exhaustion growing.
I turn to him, his beautiful face frowning.
“You were right,” I continue. “I did see you as a young, rich playboy. But I also saw this playful, carefree, confident, and generous man, who made me laugh and who challenged me. I wasn’t sure which version would hurt me more.
But I saw you for you, Xander. Always. The problem was, I never saw myself as someone who belonged at your side. ”
We stare at each other, the space between us filled with tension, sadness, and frustration. But also with an ever-present pull. A pull I had tried to ignore when we met. A pull that has been prevalent between us beyond logic, expectations, pre-conceived notions.
I move my fingers slowly to wrap them around his, holding his hand back.
Xander squeezes with a sad but hopeful smile.
And then something snaps in me, and I push off my seat, swing my leg over, and straddle him.
Xander’s eyes widen with surprise before I fuse my mouth with his. The kiss is desperate and frustrating, because it doesn’t fully satiate the burning need inside me.
This might be adrenaline. This might be a mistake after all that transpired today, but for once, I need to take what I want. Not what I should. Or what others might expect.
My hands yank at the clasp of his pants. I pull his zipper down. Xander grips my wrist before I can reach into his waistband, and I groan. I fucking groan.
“Are you sure this is what you want right now?” His voice is strained. He’s about to lose it, but he’s making sure I consent to what I started… He’s giving me pause, so I don’t regret my impulsiveness.
“I’m not sure about want, but I need it. I need you to make the hurt go away. Make me feel better.”
It’s like I released a trigger. Xander grips the neckline of my dress and rips it apart.
“It was ruined anyway.” He shrugs and latches onto my nipple.
He bites and soothes with his tongue.
He squeezes with his hands.
My back arches as a primal moan leaves my lips.
“Take. Out. My. Cock. Coraline.”
My skin throbs with need. My mind is dazed. My heart is pounding. My body needing. Needing more. So much yearning.
His cock is hard like a rod, pre-cum glistening on his tip. I squeeze his base tight, and Xander growls. He pulls me in for another kiss, fisting my hair.
And then he moves my underwear to the side. “Look at you, beautiful pussy, needing me so much.”
I practically drip into his hand. Good, because I don’t want to waste time; I want him to fill me.
I push his hand away and position his head at my entrance. We watch as I lower myself. However we got here, this is where I want to be right now.
The anger still sizzles, the hurt still lingers, the damage exists. But no road is without obstacles, and deep down, I know he didn’t want to hurt me. Deep down, I know his lie wasn’t a betrayal.
It was manipulation, for sure, but we can get over this. I can get over this, because we love each other.
“Fuck me, husband,” I drawl as a form of absolution.
He didn’t apologize.
I forgave.
I shouldn’t have.