Chapter 30
30
REMI
Now…
I said the words aloud.
Sad maybe, but I’ve only cried them out, body racked in sobs. Words I’ve never calmly uttered, even to Roman, I gave to Foster.
I almost hyperventilated, ran away, and wretched in the toilet when I reached my room, but I said them. And I have a lot more I’ll need to give him.
It’s why I’m hiding on my balcony, curled up on the bench and wrapped in the bed’s comforter. I cried for a while on the bathroom floor before brushing my teeth and then sat under the hot spray of water in the shower for a long time. I need to simply exist for a bit, feeling the feelings of all the scars torn open at once.
Because just like why I still avoid looking at my dad’s SD card, admitting what happened to my mom makes it final. Even after all this time.
At least it was Foster.
The city of Austin stretches below me through the glass, extending for what looks like forever. I sit long enough my hair’s only damp when I fully return, both mind and body, and check my phone. I want the time but end up with something else.
Something better or worse, or both.
Hey, Remi.
Better.
My eyes close at the text from twenty minutes ago, the number unknown but not the sender. I respond the only way I can.
Hi, Foster.
His next message reminds me how Foster West rarely fights fair. I see part of his arm at the bottom of the picture, resting on top of the glass surrounding his balcony, and a gorgeous fountain in the lit courtyard below. A small smile forms while the sadness recedes a little. Like the last time he showed me a fountain.
I show him my view and then wait. When he calls, I can almost see his reflection in the window, phone in front of his face. I answer with the camera pointed at the comforter, then flip it to the cityscape. His goes from the gray of his shirt to the fountain.
He doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t push. He’s just here. And eventually, I blow out a breath.
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Foster. I should have told you when I saw you again in Prague. Or at the label before we left. I let you think I wanted to…” My gaze falls, like by not looking at the screen, I’m not looking at him. “What happened really fucked me up. At some point, I started forcing myself to not think about it so it wouldn’t eat away at me all the time. Then I refused to remember and hid from it. I needed to try and erase it to get my life back.”
“I’m sorry, Remi,” he says, soft and deep. “I didn’t know how she died, only that it was sudden. I hate you went through any of it. And you don’t owe me anything. When I—” He cuts off but then, “I’m just fucking sorry.”
I swallow, finding myself wanting to talk when I expected a need to retreat. “I found her after sending you my picture but before you replied. Daniel was already orchestrating to cover it up, and no one would believe me. Hell, half of the cops in that town likely helped pin it on the poor homeless guy they were setting up.”
I tug at the corner of the comforter and mess with the tag. “I have no idea what he would have done if I stayed. I dropped my phone, getting away from him. Probably for the best. He had a tracker app installed and might have caught me if I tried shutting it off while running.” My eyebrows dip, a wave of guilt crashing over me. “Not that it mattered in the end.”
“What do you mean?”
I almost have more trouble with these words than the others. This memory of why I almost didn’t go to NYU. Why I barely left my dorm room until I became Heath’s TA. Why I still panic anytime I see my name in credits or anywhere for that matter.
“You don’t have to tell me anything. I meant what I said, you owe me nothing. We can stop talking about it if you want.”
“I know,” I say, snuggling deeper into the blanket.
It’s why I want to try.
“Roman’s friend had a house outside of Columbus where he got sober way back when. Bea still let Roman use it whenever. We figured Daniel would be looking, so he took out cash on our way, then he avoided credit cards and drove hours to different ATMs anytime he needed more. He even sold his car and paid cash for one in Bea’s name. All these precautions to protect me.”
Shockingly, I have more tears left, but I blink them away. What happened was my fault. My guilt to carry.
“The first week, I cried and slept. But by the second, I was so fucking angry, Foster. He stole everything from me without consequence. My mom was dead, and I’d never see my dad’s SD card. I missed Sage and you. God, I missed you.”
He moves, the angle lowering as he sits down, but I still see the fountain.
“I was too scared to even log in to anything since he had my phone. Then one day I broke. Roman mostly only left for groceries or cash—even then I’d freak out until he came back. But he went to lunch with Bea, and I took the car, going back to Ashfield.”
“I was there twelve days after I last heard from you,” Foster says.
My heart aches when I tell him, “I was there thirteen after.”
“ Fuck . If I’d have known—” He sighs, not finishing the thought. But I’m betting he would have been there a day later because I would have gone a day earlier if it meant seeing him.
“I made sure Daniel wasn’t there. His car was at an officer’s house who helped him. So, I parked several blocks away and climbed up the trellis. The window was still unlocked, my room untouched. I only wanted the SD card and to find my phone. I could delete the app or at least get your and Sage’s numbers, but it wasn’t there.” I shake my head. “I couldn’t bring myself to leave my room to look anywhere else. The only thing keeping me from talking to you again, and I couldn’t fucking open the door. Knowing I’d walk into the hall and see where…”
I said the words once, but I avoid them.
Foster shifts. “There’s no shame in that, Remi. I can’t imagine what it must have been like. You’d already been through so much. It was brave to even go back inside that house.”
“Yeah, and it ruined everything.” I pause, enduring the guilt. “I thought I was careful, but Daniel must have followed me because three days later, two of his guys showed up.”
The favorites. Elvin and Marlo. He let them off their leashes, both more terrifying than I gave credit for.
“What happened?” He strives for calm, but concern seeps in, something else too. “Did they hurt you?”
“No.” I find the tag again, ready to rip it to shreds. “I was in my bedroom when they broke through the window. There was a covered access panel in my closet. Bea said it was for utilities, and I crawled inside to hide—essentially between the closet wall and the living room’s. They searched the house, but it sat off the floor, and with the random clothes hanging, they must have missed the cover.”
“Fuck.”
“They hurt Roman, though,” I admit. “They beat him, calling him the most heinous shit, telling him what they’d do when they found me. I was literally on the other side of the drywall. I heard them and Roman and when they cocked the gun.” I stop, needing a second, and Foster stays quiet.
The memories don’t even feel like mine. I’m watching the terrified girl, hand covering her mouth to keep from making noise, tears rolling over the back of her hand.
“One of them tore through the house again. They kept trying to force Roman to tell them where I was, but eventually, they called Daniel. I guess killing only one of us would make it harder to cover their tracks. They put him on speaker and let him personally threaten Roman. Warned if he so much as heard whispers of either of our names again, he’d go after Sage and Roman’s parents. He also swore to make it worse for me and make Roman watch before he killed us.”
“Remi.” It’s all he says, silence floating between us for a second.
“I was so stupid, Foster. I avoided him tracking my phone, I never accessed accounts, Roman went through so much to steer clear of a paper trail. And then I led them straight there to nearly kill him. I don’t know how. I was so paranoid driving back and constantly checking behind me.”
“It’s not your fault,” he rasps, and the sadness in his voice hurts me too.
Roman said the same thing, and I didn’t believe him either.
“Either way, I couldn’t put his life at risk like that again. The chance of them going after anyone because of me terrified me. I barely existed for a long time, having panic attacks all the time. Even after Roman moved us to New York, registered me for classes at NYU, and forced me to attend. Then I took Heath’s class, and he gave me no choice but to be out in the world.” I half-smile, remembering the hell he put me through, but I’m so grateful for the man. “I still had panic attacks when he first booked a flight with my name or when he credited me in a video. Eventually they stopped. And I let myself look for the beautiful things again.”
He stays quiet long enough I wonder if I dumped too much. I don’t think I would have if it were anyone else. I don’t think I could have, but with Foster … he’s him.
“I’m sorry you lost so much. I’m sorry anyone made you feel like you had to make such an unfair choice. I’m sorry—fuck. I’m just sorry.”
I watch the fountain, the water cascading, the light and shadow.
“I would have hidden with you.”
“I wouldn’t have let you,” I whisper.
He sighs, standing up. “Yeah, but I wouldn’t have cared.”
I know.
After he walks into his room, he shuts the sliding glass door. “I need to go. I have something to do.”
I fight the dip in my stomach. “Okay. Night, Foster.”
The call ends, and I lift my face to the sky, feeling less raw. Not better enough to run and tell the world and plaster my name on billboards with my coordinates, but a little more healed with him knowing I didn’t want to leave him behind.
I gather the comforter, staying wrapped as I go inside. I haven’t even reached the doorway to the bedroom when Foster texts.
Fuck, I missed that. Missed him.
The video shows a carpet matching mine, gliding over it until Foster opens a door, steps into the hall, then he walks down it, turns to stop at another door.
“Let me in, Remi.”
Flutters. Tingles. A reemerging fever.
When I swing it open, Foster looks up, his forearm braced on the doorframe. He straightens and steps over the threshold until he’s right in front of me. His fingers hook under my chin, tipping it up, and his lips lower to mine.
A relieved breath escapes me, and he kisses me harder in response. Like he’s been as desperate for this as me.
Because nothing feels different about us this time. Instead, we’re how we were always meant to be.
He shoves his hand into my hair, backing me farther into the room. The door slams shut behind him as his tongue dives into my mouth. I let the comforter spill to our feet so I can run up his chest to the back of his hair, pulling him deeper.
His chest vibrates in a husky groan, and he frames my face with his hands. Cool blue eyes draw me in even more when Foster rests his forehead on mine, his body pressing closer. Skin hot against me.
“I need to make sure you understand how sorry I am, Remi. I’ve acted like a dick, and you haven’t deserved any of it.”
“I thought you hated me,” I say softly.
“I thought so, too, before.”
“Before what?”
“Before hearing your name again. Before I looked offstage and saw you. Before I touched you, kissed you, breathed you. Before now, when I can finally admit to both of us what a fucking liar I’ve been every second since I lost you. The truth is, I’ve been wrecked over you all along.”
He kisses me again, swiping the fresh tears away with a sweep of his thumbs.
“Christ, I missed you,” he mumbles against my mouth. “I knew something was missing. It was you. It was always you.”
Then his tongue’s dominating mine, and I slide up his shirt. He rips it over his head and crushes his lips back to mine long enough to grasp the bottom of my top. He breaks away while he pulls it off.
His hungry gaze rakes over me. He grips my sides, brushing the pads of his thumbs over my peaked nipples, and my eyelids flutter closed.
Foster’s mouth drags up the column of my neck, and his teeth graze my earlobe. “Say no, and we?—”
“Yes.” I tangle my fingers in the back of his hair. “The answer’s yes to everything. Yes, yes, yes ,” I hiss the last one as he pinches both nipples.
“That’s a dangerous game, baby.” He skims his lips over my skin until they ghost mine, palms sliding to my waist. His pupils have blown wide, the sea of black inside the blue. “I just might ask for everything.”
I think the answer would be yes anyway.
My breaths shallow as he walks me backward through the room until the cool wall beside the glass balcony door presses to my bare back. He squeezes my ass as he grinds into me, then he’s kissing over my jaw and working his way down.
When he trails across my breasts and sucks my nipple between his lips, a whimper escapes me. He switches to the other, using his teeth, while pushing my sweatpants off my hips. He lowers with them to his knees, and his hands already glide up the fronts of my thighs to my panties. Eyes on me, he drags the flat of his tongue over the fabric. Slow and hot.
Cursing, I thread my fingers through his hair. The tips on the other squeak over the glass beside me as his hot breath continues to tease through the material. His thumbs slip under the edge, and he guides them down my legs.
I barely step out of them before his arm hooks under my thigh, draping it over his shoulder.
“Fucking finally.”
He licks through my wet pussy to my clit and latches on. He sucks hard, causing me to moan. I drop my head against the wall, both hands tight in his hair.
“Foster,” I breathe out.
He groans and shifts me higher. It pushes me onto my toes, spreading me wider for him. He rolls his thumb over my clit as he thrusts his tongue inside me.
“Oh my God.”
He hums against me. “Nah, baby. I got the praying handled. I’m already on my knees, worshipping your heavenly cunt.”
My eyes roll skyward anyway as his mouth returns to my clit. He grazes it with his teeth, causing me to clench around the finger he slides into my pussy. I moan and rock my hips, but his arm bars over my pelvis to halt my movements.
I whimper, desperate to grind against his face and tugging at his hair.
“Words.” Stubble scrapes my inner thigh before he bites hard enough to sting, and I gasp. “You want something, you ask for it.”
“More,” I rush out. “I want more of your fingers fucking me.”
His lips curve up, his eyes on me. “Such a good girl.” He drives in another, pumping in and out while his tongue swipes over my clit. Then he stretches me with a third, and a broken sound tears out of me.
And all I can do is feel every lick and suck and stroke. The sensations twirl together, mixing with the sight of him watching my face from between my legs.
Foster’s rough, demanding control, but he looks at me with such reverence. In a way that’s always been right.
“You want to come?” he asks.
I nod. “ God yes .”
“Ride my face and fingers.” He moves his arm, switching to his palm flexing on my thigh. “I want you running down my chin while you scream for me, Rem.”
His mouth seals over me, and my eyes roll back.
“Fuck, Foster.”
I writhe against him, not even needing to chase the pleasure. He sends it shooting through me, white, hot. My back arches off the wall as I come. But Foster’s relentless, sucking on my pulsing clit until I give him what he wants and cry out for him.
Shudders rack my body, and just as it becomes too much, he lets up.
“Holy shit.”
I fight for breath, fingers still dug into his hair while his withdraw. Foster licks through my pussy and groans and drags his tongue over me again for more.
When my leg slides off his shoulder, he kisses up my body, and then his hips pin me there.
His mouth crashes into mine. My lips eagerly part so I can taste myself on his tongue, and I moan, feeling his erection pressed into me. Skimming my hands from his neck, down his chest, and over his abs, I palm him through the fabric.
Foster growls and hauls me with him away from the wall. He spins us, steering me backward to the bedroom with his hand sliding up to my throat. My legs bump into the bed.
“Fuck me,” I plead.
I push his sweats and boxer briefs down, freeing his cock.
I lick my lips, remembering how it felt thrusting between them.
It’s always looked intimidating. Except, through a screen, I could easily convince myself his size wouldn’t be a problem—just a dick.
Having him fill my throat on the bus changed the game. But I loved it. I’m more than willing to let him split me open.
Foster groans as I stroke up and down his shaft. “Tell me you have a condom.”
I shake my head. “I wasn’t going to sleep with anyone while on tour with you. And I didn’t think…”
“Me either.” He skates his lips down my neck and sucks on my collarbone, thrusting into my hand. “I can go for one, though.”
“Or not,” I say. “I’m on birth control.”
His cock jerks in my palm. “Fuck, Remi. Ask me. Ask me to fuck you bare.”
I’ve never had sex without a condom, never considered it, but with him it’s not even a question.
“I want you inside me, skin on skin.”
Barely letting me finish, he lifts me and climbs onto the bed. My back hits the mattress, legs already locking around his waist as he comes down over me.
The head of his cock pushes between my pussy lips and nudges at my soaked entrance.
We’re both panting, his denim eyes dancing over my face.
He flexes his hips, only pressing inside me enough for a taste of how his cock will break me open, then he retreats.
“Yes to everything,” he rasps, teasing with another shallow thrust that leaves me aching for all of him. “So tell me, is this dripping cunt mine, baby?”
I clasp the back of his neck, hips rising in a chase for his. “Yes. Yes, now claim it.”
A low growl rumbles from his chest, and he drives all the way in.
I cry out, stretched and filled by every inch, nothing between us. Nothing but everything. Face-to-face, flesh on flesh. Every nerve alights as my body yields to his.
Foster groans and slowly drags out before slamming back in. “Fuck.”
With a rough grasp on my thigh, he starts pumping into me, so, so deep as he bottoms out. I’m already hooked on the sensation radiating through me each time, clawing at the rippling muscles in his back for more.
“Christ, you feel perfect wrapped around my cock. Tight and hot and taking it like such a good girl.” He scrapes his teeth over my jaw before he grasps it, his forehead pressing to mine. “You’re fucking ruinous, Rem.”
His kiss is ravenous. Teeth and tongue and him .
He fucks me harder, his thrusts merciless while I meet every one.
It’s all-consuming, the two of us finally sating the only craving we couldn’t back then.
And it still doesn’t feel like enough.
When Foster dips down to nip my breast, he pulls out and rolls us. My knees hit the mattress on either side of his hips. One of his palms roams up my thigh while his other hand’s in my hair, our panted breaths mingling.
“I want the full view when you come on my cock. Show me. Use me.”
He tugs at my bottom lip with his teeth, and I plant my palms on his chest. Sitting up, I grasp his thick shaft and drag his head through my wet center. He roughly grips my hips, fingers tightening as I sink down onto him. All. The. Way.
“God, Foster,” I choke out, feeling him in my stomach.
“There we go, baby.” He thrusts up and hits a spot that sends my head back.
I moan as I begin to move. Foster flexes into me, a greedy gaze on my body while I ride him. Mine traverses the contours of his torso and up his chest. His abs contract as he guides my hips.
“Fuck, you look good spread around my cock.” He watches where we’re connected. “I knew you would, but fuck .”
With his palm flat, he runs it up my stomach until he cups my breast. The bliss is ready to crest even before he pinches my nipple. Heat sparks in my core, and I arch my back, nails scraping over his pecs.
He brings his thumb to my swollen clit.
“Let me feel you strangle my cock while you come. Come, Remi.”
The pleasure coils tighter and tighter as he adds pressure, then he thrusts into me hard, and I careen over the edge.
“Yes,” I cry out. “Yes, yes.”
The word turns into an airy chant, all I have left with my mind fracturing. Foster growls as my pussy pulses around him. He grabs my ass and drags me up and down his cock, fucking me through every second. His thumb demands even more until I’m writhing and whimpering, utterly undone.
“So fucking good.”
Then Foster flips me onto my back and drives back into me. His lips bruise mine, punishing and delicious. He moves me how he wants. He pins my wrists above my head and hooks my leg with his arm. It pushes my thigh to my chest, his thrusts deep and rippling through me.
My gaze traces the hard-cut lines of him, and then his nose brushes mine, mouth not touching mine, but I feel every word nonetheless.
“You need to know, if I come inside you, I might never leave.”
“I never want you to.”
He kisses me hard, upping his pace.
His mouth presses to my neck, breath hot as his guttural groan works through my skin. The grip on my wrists tightens, and his cock pulses with his release.
Foster’s hips slow, and he sinks all the way in one more time. He stays there and grinds against my sensitive clit. My hips jerk in response, and he lowers my leg, only to grind again, causing me to shudder.
“Foster,” I sigh his name as he tortures me, tightening both legs around his waist.
“Mmm, Remi.”
I hear the smile.
After freeing my hands, he brings his head up. Our chests rise together, heart-stopping blue eyes stare down at me.
My fingers follow his sculpted jawline until he pulls them to his lips and kisses them.
“You remember all those bad ideas I used to have because of you?” He drags my knuckles back and forth.
I nod. “You had so many.”
“Yeah, well, this one is on you.”
I narrow my eyes. “What was that?”
“Fucking you without a condom.” Lowering my hand, he shifts, reminding me he’s still inside me. Still hard enough to draw a soft moan from me when he gently thrusts. “Because filling you with my cum just became an obsession.”
That should not sound as hot as it does.
Foster groans as he pulls out and then crashes onto his side next to me, bracing on a forearm. He traps a piece of my hair between his knuckles, slowly gliding down to the black ends. He studies them.
“I like this,” he says, low and soft.
The strands fall as he trails down. His knuckles drag over my chest and breast and graze my nipple. He skims to the other.
“I really like these.” He captures it and tugs. A whimper slips from between my lips, but he’s already drawing a line from my sternum to my navel. The light touch sweeps back and forth, dipping a little every time.
“Anything else you like?” My pulse picks up again while he teases lower still.
The palm flattens over my pelvis, spanning all the way across. “Yeah.”
His lips twitch, clear in his intent not to tell me.
When he looks up, I lick mine to shield a smile. His gaze moves from there, covering every inch of my face. Like he’s finally letting himself look at me. And I trace my fingertips over the back of his hand and run the others over his bicep, touching him because I finally can. I can catalog each tattoo and ridge of him. He can lean down and taste me with his tongue.
For the first time, Foster and I have all the parts at once. We’re truly together in the same place.
I’m living and breathing him after thinking I’d lost any chance. And there’s nothing left to take it away again.