Chapter Forty-Three - Mirabelle
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
Mirabelle
HENRY’S LIPS ON mine make everything from this fucking day fade into background noise. It doesn’t feel like we’ve spent over a month apart, or how it’s been radio silence since we ran into each other on my last day.
I convey all the hurt and anger I’ve felt by pressing my mouth harder against his much softer touch.
I don’t want sweet and gentle.
I want rough and catastrophic.
Henry and I are an impending disaster waiting to happen. Or are we a disaster that’s already happened?
I’m not sure, but we’re already on a collision course that can’t be stopped.
Is this a bad idea? Probably. Actually, most definitely. But I can’t help myself. He’s here. He already read the letter I poured my heart and soul into. What more do I have to lose?
I thread my hands through Henry’s hair, pulling on it as he finally matches my urgency, pressing me against the wall. Nipping at his lower lip to get him to deepen the kiss further, Henry complies like he understands everything I need.
He understands everything except how much I need him in my life. If he understood that, then Henry wouldn’t have let me leave. He wouldn’t have let me walk out the door without chasing after me. He wouldn’t have been able to walk away from me in the stadium.
I love this man so much that it physically pains me to be apart from him, but loving him hurts too. I feel tears slipping down my cheeks and he tries to pull away from me, no doubt noticing that I’m crying.
I don’t want to cry.
I’m so tired of crying.
I slip my hand down the front of Henry’s shorts, wrapping my fingers around his hardening length. He thankfully stops trying to pull away from me, moaning into my mouth as I slowly begin to pump my hand.
Henry is threatening to devour me, but I refuse, fighting back to maintain control. He pulls away, dropping his head to kiss my neck as I increase my speed.
He presses his lips to my skin, and I want to feel his mouth everywhere on me. How am I going to survive him?
“Mon c?ur,” he says, his hips thrusting with my firm strokes. My heart is like broken glass held together with tape, but that pet name threatens to shatter it completely. Henry’s amber eyes are hazy with lust as his hands clumsily move to the bottom of my shirt, and I let go, allowing him to pull it off me, his heated touch skimming over my torso and the curves of my breasts. He pulls off his own, and my breath hitches at the sight of his impressive body as Henry also removes his shorts.
“Tu es belle.” 50
“Merci,” 51 I whisper, unable to look away from his face, watching me in wonder.
Henry hooks his thumbs on the waistband of my underwear and shorts, pulling them down my body. He reaches behind my thighs, easily lifting me to move us to my bed. I push away my laptop, as Henry teases his fingers to see if I’m ready for him.
“Please,” I say, my body arching into him as he pushes two fingers into me. I play with my nipple, biting my lip to hold back a whimper as Henry worships my body, dropping to his knees in front of me, his rough hands holding my thighs firmly apart.
When his mouth replaces his fingers, my eyes flutter shut as I’m unable to bite back the incoherent sounds falling from my mouth. My body is a language that Henry— and Henry alone —is fluent in. “Please, I need you,” I beg, as his unshaven face scratches against my skin, causing sensory overload.
He kisses his way up my body. “I’m sorry,” he says, and I shake my head as his body settles over mine.
“I told you I don’t want to talk about today.”
Henry kisses my neck delicately, lifting his eyes to meet mine. “I’m not talking about today,” he says, and the most dangerous thing about Henry is his ability to make me hope. “Do you have any condoms?” he asks, his hand settling over mine on my breast to play with the sensitive peak.
“I haven’t needed them,” I say, offering a silent invitation. I recognize the predatory spark in his eyes when he realizes I haven’t been with anyone. How could I? Henry is the only one who makes me feel alive. Despite everything, I don’t want to be with anyone but Henry. I can’t imagine it.
Henry wastes no time, hooking my legs around his trim waist, and thrusting deeply into me. “Fuck,” he swears, pulling back painfully slow as he looks into my eyes. “I’m sorry I didn’t stop you from leaving,” Henry says, his hips slamming into mine hard enough I barely have a chance to process his words before he’s pulling back again. “I’m sorry I didn’t talk to you.” Repeat . “I’m sorry I told you I didn’t care.” His eyes are shining with what I assume is . . . regret. “I care so fucking much, Mira.” Repeat. “I’m sorry that you love me because I don’t deserve it.” Henry’s hips thrust at an upward angle, hitting the right spot to make me gasp in pleasure as my heart bleeds out. “I’m so fucking sorry for all of it.”
~
I know it’s not healthy or remotely good for me in any way, but I’ve spent the last hour reading all the articles being published about me. I couldn’t help but look at the comments either.
I waited for Henry to fall asleep—which didn’t take long—before I slipped out of bed. It was too much for my heart to bear being held by him.
In all of his apologies, he never once said he loved me.
He finally acknowledged he heard me say I love him, but he also said he didn’t deserve it. It’s my choice to decide who deserves my love.
All of the solo shots of me swimming naked were from the weekend Henry was in Denver. The flash I convinced myself was a figment of my imagination while on the phone with JJ was real. Someone had been there taking pictures of me.
I shudder with disgust as my phone vibrates again, but for the first time today, I answer.
“Oh thank god, you finally answered. Are you okay? I can’t believe the nerve of the fucking media for taking naked photos of you and then publishing them? It’s like the world has gone fucking mad, Mira,” Emily rambles, and I look back at the laptop screen.
“The world went mad a long time ago,” I say.
“Are you okay?” she repeats.
“I feel kind of numb.”
“I’m looking at flights right now.”
“Em, you don’t have to do that. Henry’s with me. I’ll be okay. A couple of nude photos never hurt anyone,” I joke, but the reality of the matter is I am hurt. I feel violated in a way I never thought I would, even after how things spiraled after the Olympics.
“Henry’s there?” she asks, her voice a pitch higher in surprise. Not that I blame her. I was a little surprised myself when I heard him come in earlier.
“Yep,” I answer, not wanting to elaborate.
“Oh, I see.”
I furrow my brow as I shut my computer. “You see what?”
“Are you getting back together?” Emily asks, causing me to rub my face.
“No.”
We’re not. I can’t be with someone who doesn’t believe they deserve my love. I know I was the one who walked away, but it was the right thing to do. I never imagined he wouldn’t chase after me, but Henry’s made it clear where his priorities lie, and they’re not with me.
“Mirabelle, are you sure? You shouldn’t make this decision now. There’s a lot going on . . .” she trails off.
“Henry and I aren’t getting back together. Today was a blip. It doesn’t matter he showed up like a knight in shining armor, it doesn’t change anything.” No sooner are the words out of my mouth do I regret saying them. It didn’t feel like a blip, but that’s all it needs to be.
A throat clears behind me, and I turn quickly, nearly falling off the stool to see Henry standing there, staring at me.
“Uh, I gotta go, I’ll call you later.” I hang up before Emily can protest.
Henry folds his arms over his chest, a frown marring his handsome features. “So this isn’t up for discussion?”
“What is this ?” I counter.
“I want to be with you.”
“I thought you didn’t care.” My tone is cruel, but they’re his words.
He winces, and I’m glad they sting. “I was drunk, Mirabelle. Of course I care. I didn’t remember that conversation until a few days after I ran into you at the stadium.”
Ouch. “That was three and a half weeks ago, Henry. You had plenty of time to tell me you wanted to be with me, but instead you allowed Stacey to run an article saying we had gone our separate ways. ” I can feel my temper starting to slip. “You didn’t even have the decency to send me a text saying we were over.”
“I didn’t think you wanted to hear from me. I’ve been trying to figure everything out, and come to terms with what Allison did, but I miss you. I’ve missed you every single day, and I’m miserable without you. I’ve spent nearly every single night drunk off my ass, and it hasn’t done a single goddamn thing to fix the part of me that is terrified of loving someone, and giving them that power over me. But being with you? You make me want more . You make me believe love can exist without strings attached. You make me want to confront my demons to be worthy of your love.”
“I’m glad you want more for yourself, but you shouldn’t do it for me. You need to do it for you,” I insist, and Henry steps closer to me, taking my face in his hands.
“Mirabelle, I want to be the type of man you deserve, and I’m willing to spend every day proving I’ll try to be him because I love you,” he says, and it’d be so easy to give in to him. “I’m going to regret letting you walk away for the rest of my life, but I’m begging you to forgive me.”
I want to believe him.
But it’s because I love Henry, that I choose him, even when he won’t.
“ No .”