Chapter 7 #2
Cale took her hand and kissed the back of it, and I couldn’t help but hold back a sigh.
I was jealous, and I hated that.
“But what Cale was saying is right.” Dorian whispered. “I’ll never forgive her for what she said to you.”
I met his gaze, my chest aching. Though I knew it had nothing to do with emotion and everything to do with my long walk since I had overexerted myself. I hated my lungs, and I knew they hated me right back.
“It was nothing. She’s hurting, lashing out because she can’t seem to hold on to any sense of her reality. So it’s easier for her to hate anyone who dares hurt her family rather than herself who’s hurting them right along with them.”
Dorian raised a brow. “When did you get so wise? I didn’t know you were old enough to have those kinds of thoughts.”
I scowled as others laughed. “Okay fuck you. And I’m glad the babies aren’t in this room because I’m going to curse again. Fuck you.”
“I’m going to wash your mouth out with soap,” Dorian grumbled.
“I’m an adult. I own a business. I’m going to curse, and sometimes I have sage wisdom.
Shocking. And really,” I began as I looked around the table, “I’m fine.
I’ve already been through hell, and I know you guys have been through your own versions.
I really don’t care what that woman says.
That may be wrong of me in some ways, but I don’t care.
Joshua taught me that, at least. How to stand up for myself. ”
Dorian reached out and squeezed my knee, and I let out a deep breath, trying not to lean into the contact.
He must have realized what he was doing because he let go quickly, as if I had scorched him.
Well, same, Dorian Cage.
Thankfully the subject changed again, and by the time dessert rolled around, I was exhausted, and my lungs did indeed ache.
“I should head home. I know it’s going to get a little bit colder later, and I want to make sure I get home quickly.”
“Did you walk here?” Dorian snapped.
I shook my head. “Not all the way. Ivy dropped me off partway, but I needed a walk.” So I could clear my thoughts about Dorian. And yet it hadn’t helped at all.
“Harper, it’s freezing out,” Isabella chided. “Dorian, will you drive her home?
“It’s not like she’s going to have any other choice,” Dorian grumbled as he stomped past me. At least he wasn’t limping, so I knew he wasn’t in that much pain. Or he was getting better at masking.
He walked out without a goodbye, leaving me alone with his family staring at him—the worry etched on their faces matching the same in my heart.
I let out a shaky, painful breath and looked at all of them. “Well, thank you for dinner.”
“We’re sorry for the drama,” Aston said as he gave me a hug. I hugged him back, before doing the same to others, leaving Hudson for last.
He lifted my chin with his finger and glared at me. Or maybe he was just staring at me. I was never sure with Hudson.
“Be safe. And thanks for taking care of Dorian.”
I rolled my eyes. “I’m pretty sure he thinks it’s the opposite.”
“He can think what he wants,” Hudson snapped before he went upstairs. Most likely to see the babies. And I couldn’t help but smile at that thought. I would have to tell Scarlett just to annoy her.
Dorian was already waiting for me outside by the time I got out there. The temperature had dropped dramatically, and I realized I had been an idiot thinking I could walk. No wonder Ivy had looked at me like I’d lost my mind.
“Text Ivy and the others and let them know you’re leaving,” Dorian ordered.
I scowled at him as I got to the side of his truck.
“You could say please.”
“I could. Come on, let me help you up.”
I scowled. “Excuse me? You have runners. I can climb up.” Probably better than he could, but I didn’t say that. It would be rude to both of us because I knew he had to be hurting.
He didn’t listen to me however, because he never did. Instead he lifted me by the waist, and I let out a squeak as he set me inside the cab of his truck.
“Bossy,” I mumbled.
“Always,” he said with a sigh before closing the door behind him. He moved quickly around the front of the truck before getting in, and I didn’t see a wince on his face. He was healing, and I was grateful for that. But I hated that he didn’t take care of himself.
Of course, my lungs hurt, and I was slightly light-headed, so I couldn’t really complain too much considering I was in the same boat.
“Do we need to pick up Lucky?” he asked, his gaze on the road.
“He’s having a sleepover at Ivy’s tonight. Apparently, Ivy wants to play dog mom for a night and see if she’s ready for one on her own.”
“With how much she travels, I don’t know if that would be a good thing.”
“We could make it work, especially since she drives often. But you’re right, she isn’t quite sure yet.”
“And not every dog can be as good as Lucky.”
That made me grin. “He’s the best.”
We sat in silence as we made our way to my apartment. I hated this awkwardness. Things had always been different with us, even when he had just been my brother’s best friend. Now he held so much guilt, and I didn’t know what to do with it.
Before I could say anything though, we pulled into the back of the bakery, and he shut off the engine.
“I’ll walk you up.”
I swallowed hard, my hands tingling. “I’m a big girl. I can do that on my own.”
“You don’t have Lucky at home. I’m walking you up.”
With a sigh, I stomped my way upstairs with him following me. I didn’t know why this was so awkward, but maybe it would just be normal. Like the fact that he would be in my apartment. Alone. At night. With no dog as a chaperone.
Or maybe I was losing my mind.
“Can I get you some coffee? Or a baked good?” Not quite what I wanted to say, but I couldn’t help rambling. I didn’t know what he saw when he looked at my apartment. It wasn’t large nor was it my forever home. But then again, it was better than the little room I had at my grandparents’ house.
“Your house always smells like sugar and flour.”
“That wasn’t an answer to my question,” I said, my lips twitching.
“I could eat,” he said, surprising me. He slid his hands into his pockets, and I swallowed hard.
“Okay. Why don’t you go take a seat on the couch, and I will get you some cookies or something.”
“Or something,” he mumbled.
Not sure what he meant by that, I made a plate of blonde brownies, a couple of cookies, and a fruit tart I had made earlier. I was constantly practicing with recipes, and I was grateful that I had friends to hand them off to.
I quickly brewed two cups of coffee and made my way into the living room. He had a book in his hand as he laid on my couch. He had his hurt leg up on the ottoman, and I held back a wince. Because if he was showing any form of his supposed weakness, he had to be hurting.
“Are those tarts?” he asked, his eyes widening.
“I’m sure there’s a joke in there somewhere.”
His cheeks pinked, and I thought it was the cutest damn thing. “I’m not calling you a tart. But I will take whatever’s on that plate.”
“That I can do.”
I had set everything on a tray, and he had tried to get up to help, but I was quicker than he was and set everything down in front of us. He lowered his leg, and I took a seat beside him.
“Do you want me to massage your leg?” I asked, and he blinked.
“What?”
“Well. You seem to be in pain. And I don’t know, if you need someone to massage your leg, I’m here.”
I had no idea what I was saying, or why I had even blurted it. He was probably going to laugh at me, pat me on the head, and walk right out with a fruit tart in his hand.
Instead he met my gaze and swallowed hard. “Okay.”
The silence in the living room was deafening, but before either one of us could think better of it, I reached forward and slid my hand over his thigh.
His throat bobbed as he swallowed again, and I slid my other hand closer before massaging gently.
I had taken a semester of massage therapy, mostly because I had been in enough pain as a teen that I liked knowing how to take care of a body.
But I knew I wasn’t remembering a single one of my lessons in that moment.
His thigh hardened underneath me, and I did my best not to go too high. Because if I did, I’d accidentally glance at the zipper of his jeans, and all would be lost.
I didn’t look up, didn’t want to see his face.
When he slid his hand over the back of my neck, his thumb sliding through my hair, I gasped.
He didn’t stop touching me. Instead I moved my hand up and down his thigh, trying to ease the aches. He groaned, and we both stiffened. I looked up at him then, at the way his mouth parted, at his widening pupils.
“Where’d you learn that?” he asked, his voice breathy.
I licked my lips, and his gaze went right to them. “I took a semester of massage therapy.” It was to help my own health issues, but I didn’t tell him that. I couldn’t break this moment.
“Well, good job.” He coughed.
And without thinking, I did the one thing I shouldn’t. I leaned forward and brushed my lips against his.
He froze for an instant, and I nearly pulled back, wondering what the hell I was doing.
But then his hand went to the back of my neck again, and I was lost. My lips parted, our tongues sliding against one another.
When he groaned, I arched slightly, my breast pressing against his arm and chest. He slid his other hand over my side, squeezing my hip, and I put my hands on his chest, aching for him.
He deepened the kiss, both of us gasping into one another. He tasted of sugar, coffee, and Dorian.
I had dreamed of doing this before, of wanting this. And yet I hadn’t thought it was possible. Instead, it felt as if everything was frozen in time, and it was all I could do to hang on to him. Because as soon as this kiss ended, reality would settle in and it would be over.
And it seemed he had listened to my thoughts, because suddenly he was on the other side of the couch, his chest heaving, and his eyes wide.
“I shouldn’t have done that.”
I licked my lips, knowing they were swollen, and I lifted my fingers to them.
“I didn’t push you away,” I said honestly.
“Wellesley.”
But before he could say anything, I gasped, my chest seizing. I bent over, hands on the couch, as I tried to catch my breath.
One. Two. Three.
I just needed to count, to catch my breath. This had happened before. I had just overexerted myself today.
“Wellesley? What the fuck?”
And then I was in his lap, and he was rubbing my back as I tried to catch my breath.
“What’s wrong?”
“I’m fine. I just lose my breath sometimes.”
He scowled, as if trying to connect the dots of exactly when this could have begun, and I didn’t know what he knew. After all, Joshua hadn’t told him everything from the time we had been separated. But instead, he ran his hand over my back as I finally caught my breath.
“I’m okay,” I gasped.
“Stop talking,” he ordered, his voice a rasp.
He just held me, as I took in deep breaths, finally allowing myself to breathe again.
This wasn’t how I imagined my first time in Dorian’s arms, with his rigid cock beneath me, and both of us holding onto one another, but all I could think was he was caring for me.
Because I was weak. And too young.
And my damn lungs were once again betraying me.