Chapter 48
FORTY-EIGHT
ANDY
Navigating the Las Vegas airport and then JFK was a terrifying experience. Before today, I had never been on an airplane or even outside of the state of Nevada.
After my call with Declan this morning, I knew I needed to be there for him. The tone of his voice told me that something was going on with him that he wasn't admitting. The feeling in the pit of my stomach had fear creeping in as I assumed the worst.
Had he relapsed?
Was he drinking or using again? He hadn't sounded drunk or high over the phone, but that doesn't mean that he hasn't done something he'll regret.
I've been reading a lot about addiction online, and I've learned that when addicts are recovering within the first year of sobriety, it's advised to refrain from starting a relationship because you're at risk of creating codependency. Without the drugs, it's easy to turn your addiction elsewhere.
Is that what Declan has done?
Is our entire relationship one of codependency because he's newly sober and trying to fill one void with another? I'd like to think not, but the insecure thought still lingers .
Regardless, I needed to see him. I called Adam after getting off the phone with Declan and told him I wanted to surprise Declan while they were in New York. He didn't ask questions, just asked for my email, then ten minutes later sent me a first-class plane ticket for a flight leaving after work. I couldn't miss any more days, so I had to go to work, but afterward, David picked me up and drove me to the airport. I'll miss work tomorrow, but losing a day of pay is obviously better than two.
Thankfully, Lucy was happy to keep Max until I return home tomorrow night. I know I shouldn't rely on her as much as I do, but she always tells me how much Haley loves having Max over to play with. Lucy had been worried when Haley wasn't making friends, but now she and Max are inseparable. Plus, the money I pay Lucy for babysitting helps her greatly. She works from home, so she's always around for the girls. I hate leaving Max, but I'm learning it's okay to take time for myself and have my own identity outside of being a mother.
Once I landed at JFK, Adam had a driver there waiting for me, my name on his handwritten sign. The sight made me laugh, and I almost reached for my phone to take a picture.
Look at me, Andy Harris, from a small town to being in New York for the first time with a personal driver dressed in a black suit, holding a sign with my name. That's something I'll only experience once in this lifetime.
It's nearly midnight when I arrive at the hotel where Declan is staying. I'd texted Adam to let him know I'd arrived, and he gave me the address of their hotel and assured me Declan was in his room. He, Damon, and Cole went out, but Declan stayed behind.
Knowing he chose to stay in over a night out fills me with hope. I'm not sure what I'll be walking into, but at least I feel better knowing he's not out somewhere surrounded by temptation.
The hotel they're staying at is a luxurious five-star hotel. A doorman dressed in a green uniform opens the door for me with a nod, and suddenly, my mind is racing as I step inside the lobby. The marble floor is in pristine condition, and briefly, I wonder how often they have to clean it to keep it looking as shiny and neat as it is. Above me hangs a massive chandelier, the reflection sparkling in the marble.
There's a line of guests at the front desk, but I bypass it and head directly for the elevators, wanting to get away from the guests dressed in their designer attire. I'm dressed in leggings and an oversized Riot T-shirt that Declan gave me. My curls are piled on my head in a messy bun, and my secondhand duffle bag is over my shoulder.
I do not belong in a place like this. One look at me is enough to determine that. There's nothing designer about me, not that I'm complaining. I've never been the type of girl to care about labels and name-brand anything.
Sure, it must be nice to step into a designer store and purchase anything without looking at the price, but even if I had the money, I wouldn't be that type of person. I'd never waste money on material objects. If I were rich, I'd use my money to secure a comfortable financial future for Max, and then I'd get us both a passport and explore the world with my little girl.
The elevator dings as I reach the top floor, and I roll my eyes at the pretentiousness of it. Of course, they're staying on the top floor. Why am I not surprised?
The moment the doors open, a security guard dressed in black turns his stoic gaze toward me. Taking in my appearance and duffle bag, I watch as he raises his cuff to his mouth and mumbles something, dark gaze never leaving mine.
Stepping onto the carpeted floor of the hallway, I notice two other security guards spread along the hallway. I'm willing to bet this entire floor has been reserved only for Riot.
"Ma'am, stop right there." The large man stops me, the reflection of yet another chandelier shining on his bald head. "You have the wrong floor." He eyes my T-shirt, likely thinking I'm an obsessed fan who found out this is where Riot is staying, and I came here to stalk them.
Straightening my posture, I refuse to be intimidated. "I'm on the right floor. Declan Valentine is my boyfriend, and I'm here to surprise him”.
He laughs a full belly laugh, taking me by surprise.
Damn.
Is it that hard to believe I'm dating Declan?
He scoffs. "Yeah, okay. And I have a full head of hair."
Asshole.
A second security guard joins us, looking between Baldie and me. "There a problem?"
"My name is Andy Harris. I'm here to see my boyfriend. Adam told me that he put my name on a list with security."
The second guy nods, turning to look at Baldie with a red face. "She's right." He faces me. "Do you have identification?"
Reaching into my purse, I let out a huff of annoyance as I grab my wallet, taking out my driver's license and show it to the new guy. He takes a photo of it before handing it back while Baldie continues staring at me, shooting daggers.
What the fuck is his problem? I'm not the typical model type that Declan used to date, but come on. I'm still a person with feelings. He's making me feel insecure and like a joke for being here.
"Do you know which room he's in?" I return my wallet to my purse.
"Yup." My eyes roll as I shoulder past Baldie and walk down the hall until I reach room 9038.
Standing outside the door, I inhale, giving myself a pep talk. My body filled with nerves and excitement over seeing Declan for the first time in two weeks.
Reaching up, I remove the satin scrunchie from my hair and shake out my curls.
You got this.
You can do this .
He'll be thrilled to see you.
With a smile on my face, I knock on the door.
The door flies open, stealing my breath away.
The sight before me freezes me, my heart beating rapidly as I stare into the brown eyes I've been dreaming about.
"Andy?" his whispers, his eyes wide as if he's unable to believe it's really me standing here before him.
A slow smile spreads across his face, and I'm not sure which of us moves first, but suddenly, the door is closed, my bag has fallen to the floor, and our arms are around each other as our lips meet, further stealing the remaining air from my lungs.
God. His kiss feels like heaven.
Kissing him feels like my own form of heaven, created just for me.
Being with him feels like coming up for air after drowning for so long.
"You're fucking here." He pulls back, looking me up and down, before tangling his hands in my hair, angling my face how he wants it, then devours my mouth once again.
Warm hands slip beneath my shirt, trailing up my back until he reaches my bra. With a flick of his wrist, the clasp comes undone, and my heavy breasts sigh in relief.
Our kiss is broken long enough for Declan to remove our shirts. The bra straps slide down my arms until it lands on the floor beside our feet and shirts.
Grabbing the waistband of my leggings, he slides them down my ass, grabbing a fistful of each cheek in his hands, yanking my body closer to his as he grinds his hard cock against me, making a groan rise from the back of my throat.
Pulling back, I wrap my arms around his neck, taking a moment to look at him. He presses our foreheads together, strong arms wrapping around me, making me feel the safest I've ever felt. With him, I can breathe a sigh of relief because, for once, I don't feel alone.
"I can't believe you're here. Was this already planned when we spoke this morning?" he asks, minty breath warm across my lips.
I pull my head back enough to look at him clearly, needing to take in his appearance and memorize every feature. Shaking my head, I explain how I came to be here with him. "After we got off the phone, I called Adam. Told him I wanted to surprise you and what he thought about it. He said it was a great idea and that he'd take care of everything. He got my ticket and arranged my ride to the airport in Vegas and from JFK to here." His eyebrows raise. "Something about your tone on the phone made me feel like I needed to be here with you."
His shoulders lower with his exhale. Bringing my body flush against his, he buries his face in the crook of my neck, lips meeting my skin. "Thank you for knowing I needed you and coming. You have no fucking idea how much I needed this. You in my arms. Your scent in my nose. Your body against mine." Pressing his nose into my skin, he inhales, humming his response to my cherry scent.
"What's going on with you, baby?" I ask, fingers mindlessly rubbing over the bare skin of his back.
He's silent for a long stretch of silence before answering, "I've been fucked up since seeing Camille. I know we haven't talked about it, but seeing her didn't go very well." He pulls away from me, pressing a quick kiss to my lips, then lowers to his knees in front of me, pulling my leggings and panties down my body until I'm standing there naked.
"As much as I really want you to fuck me, I wouldn't mind a shower. It's been a long day, and I'm sweaty," I say, fingers running through his soft hair.
"I haven't showered yet, either. We got back from the venue not that long ago. We'll go shower together, but first, I need to talk to you, and I want to look at your beautiful body as I do." His lips press against the pale marks on my stomach, his warm tongue poking out and swiping along each one.
Once he's licked every stretch mark, he stands, takes my hand, and guides me to the couch. He sits down, pulling me onto his lap so I'm straddling him and facing him, my naked body on top of him.
He grips my thighs, head resting on the back of the couch as he stares at me with half-hooded eyes. "Talk to me, Dec." I urge him on, doing my best to remain confident as I sit butt naked on his lap, legs spread on either side of him.
"I told her everything. She yelled at me and said shit that I deserve, but fuck, it still hurt hearing it. Everything she said to me is shit I've already told myself a thousand times. Didn't make it any easier." I remain silent, allowing him to take his time and get whatever off his chest that he needs to. "She now blames me, just like I blame myself. The friendship we've built is fucking ruined, and all I can think about is that look in her eyes. She fucking begged me to tell her I was lying, Andy. Fucking begged." He scoffs, shaking his head in disbelief.
"No matter what we've gone through, she's never looked at me with hatred. But that's all I saw in her eyes after I told her. She will never forgive me." I've selfishly avoided this topic because I don't know how to feel or what to say. His actions played a direct role in the death of his child. We'll never know what would've happened had he been sober because he wasn't.
He made a choice that had deadly consequences.
"One thing about Camille is she always needs space to process shit. I know she'll be ready to talk to me one day because she'll have questions. She's always been quick to lash out, but she'll have more to say."
"Are you sure about that?"
He nods. "Positive. When she's ready, she'll reach out. She might never forgive me, but I will get another chance to apologize to her. It might be two months or two years, but it'll happen. I don't even want her to forgive me because I'll never forgive myself."
My heart aches for him when he talks this way about himself. "You can't go back in time and change anything. Yes, what happened was fucked up and devastating. Fucking tragic actually, but you can't change anything. Eventually, you're going to have to forgive yourself."
His head tilts up, eyes staring into mine as he whispers a question. "Do you think I deserve forgiveness for killing my son?"
I swallow thickly, eyes softening as I stare at the beautiful, damaged man beneath me.
Does he deserve forgiveness for driving while under the influence, which resulted in death?
"Yes," I whisper, my hand pressing against his racing heart. "You deserve grace, and to stop punishing yourself. You're human, and we all make mistakes. You didn't know what was going to happen that night. It was dark and raining, and anything could've happened."
He stares at me, unblinking, for what feels like forever, but since I don't know what time it is, I'm not actually sure how long we're stuck in this staring contest.
Finally, he says, "There's no such thing as forgiveness for a sinner like me. The only one who will ever want me is the devil himself." Before I can respond, he grips my wrist and yanks me toward him, lips attacking mine. I fall into his bare chest, body colliding with his as he claims the air in my lungs.
Slipping a hand between us, he finds my pussy, spreading my lips with two fingers while a third swipes through me.
"Fuck, baby, you're soaked. This all for me?" I nod frantically. He groans, taking a deep inhale as if he expects to be able to smell my arousal. "Mmmm." A sinister smirk curls on his lips. "Smells like desperation." Without warning, he shoves two fingers inside of me, curling them upwards and jackhammering inside of me without allowing me a second to catch my breath or adjust.
"Is this pussy desperate for me?" Fuck. I've missed his mouth.
"God, yes."
"God's not here with us, baby. It's just you and me. The only name I want to hear you screaming is mine. I am your God, now." His thumb presses against my clit, moving it in sync with the fingers inside of me.
My eyes roll into the back of my head, going so far back in pleasure that I'm almost certain I see my brain. He leans forward, lips wrapping around one of my nipples, tongue flattening over the pebbled peak.
He adds a third finger. The stretch is delicious and welcome. Curling them upward, he massages me in that spot that has my body climbing high and shaking with anticipation of release.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck!" I cry out, eyes squeezed shut as I place my hands on his shoulders and ride his hand. My pussy squeezes his fingers, inviting them deeper inside of me.
"Eyes on me, baby," he rasps, biting and sucking my tits so roughly that I'm sure when he pulls away, I'll have dark marks left behind.
Yes, baby. Leave your mark on me.
My eyes fly open, watching the way his tongue laps at my skin and nipples, loving the feeling of him flicking them with his tongue.
Keeping his rhythm, he reaches a hand between us and unfastens the button and zipper on his jeans to relieve the strain against his hard cock.
"You're suffocating my fingers," he says, teeth biting into his bottom lip as he pumps me harder.
Harder, harder, harder, until I'm falling over the edge.
White lights explode in the back of my eyes as I give into the release I've needed from him for over two weeks. My body shakes and jerks with the climax, head becoming lightheaded.
It's only after I float back down to earth that I notice his soaked hand, dripping with my release, and the wet puddle I made on his jeans. It's hidden on the dark fabric, but still noticeable when you look close enough.
A blush climbs up my cheeks at the sight, embarrassment setting in. Squirting is not something I'd ever done before him, but now, I manage to drench him every time we have sex or he plays with my pussy.
Breathing heavily, I watch as he raises his hips, then lowers his pants and boxers enough to free his aching cock, hand instantly wrapping around the shaft. In hisgrasp, his cock is long and hard between us, the heat radiating off of it making my pussy clench in anticipation, slowly stroking himself a few times, squeezing the tip until beads of precum are displayed and dripping down.
Groaning at the sight, I raise myself onto my knees, allow him to line himself up with my drenched pussy, then slowly sit back down, seating him inside of me.
We moan in unison, eyes connected with each other as I hold him inside of me, clenching my walls around him.
He grips my hips in a bruising grip. "Need you to move, baby." He says it through gritted teeth, his jaw clenched tight.
Keeping his tight grip on me, he guides me up and down his length, meeting me thrust for thrust from where he's seated, our eye contact never breaking as I ride him.
Even as I soak his cock and he fills me with his warm cum, our eyes never stray from each other. The intensity of his gaze sets my soul on fire, filling me with emotions I've never felt before.
The intense feelings I have for Declan scare me.
Two months, and he's already becoming the air in my lungs I need to breathe.
My life raft to save me from drowning further.
I wonder if he feels it too, how deeply in love with him I am.
And how desperately I wish there would be a happy ending for us.