9. Mila
MILA
I t’s been one week, six hours, and thirteen minutes since I’ve heard from Christian.
Not that I’m counting or anything.
Mom says he had some family business to attend to, but she doesn’t know anything else. After that night on the beach, he kissed me until I was panting and took me home. We snuck in, and he held me in my bed until I fell asleep, wrapped in his arms.
He was so . . . gentle. Like he was worried he was going to break me.
As I’m fragile.
Looking back, I can’t stop the sinking feeling in my gut. It’s like there’s a pit where he was, and now it’s swallowing me whole. I’m worried. He’s never not answered me before. Even when he was just a guard.
I’ve tried calling. They all go straight to voicemail. I’ve tried texting him, but the messages go unread. It’s like he’s a ghost, and I’m the unlucky woman who is unfortunate enough to be in love with him.
“Right here,” I tell Tomas, our new driver. He’s young, but I haven’t spoken to him much in the past few months he’s been working with us. Christian took me anywhere I needed to go.
Of course, he was also making me come on most of those trips, but that’s beside the point.
Tomas pulls to a stop in front of the apartment building, standing tall against the clear blue skies. It’s only April, but the weather is warm today, and I took advantage of it by wearing the sundress I know he likes and my hair loose with my natural curls.
“I’ll wait right here, Ms. Mila.”
“Thank you, Tomas. It’ll only be a moment. I’ll text you if anything changes.”
He nods, gaze trained on the road ahead. I climb out of the back of the Bently, pulling the key Christian had given me out of my purse and heading through the front doors.
The front desk clerk smiles at me as I pass but makes no move to hang up on her phone call, so I don’t bother. I’ve been here enough times now that they don’t question me when I enter the building. I take the elevator, my heart thudding uncomfortably in my chest all the way to the sixth floor.
I guess a part of me is hoping that he’s up there in his apartment. The other half is dreading the knowledge that he’s just avoiding me if he is.
Does he regret . . . us? Did he have second thoughts? Saliva pools in my mouth, nausea bubbling in my stomach at the thought.
Maybe he thinks I’m just another clingy virgin, pining after him because he was my first.
Bitter tears sting in the backs of my eyes, but I refuse to allow them any further.
I’m sure there’s a logical explanation for all of this. Christian Cross doesn’t just up and disappear.
Stepping off the elevator, my heartbeat grows louder with every step toward his door. I stop in front of it, doing the polite thing and knocking.
No answer.
I try knocking again after a few moments, but not even a shuffle comes from the other side.
“He’s gone.”
I jump, letting out a squeak at the voice behind me. An older woman stands in her doorway, her hair in curlers and an old chihuahua in her arms. A cigarette hangs out of her mouth, smoke billowing from the end, but it’s not what makes my stomach drop to my toes.
“What?”
“He’s gone. Left about a week ago. Moved out in a hurry,” she mumbles as if the concept of someone leaving so fast is in poor taste.
“M-moved?”
Her gaze narrows on me.
“Are you hard of hearing?”
Turning away from her, I shove my key in the lock, the tremble in my hands making it difficult. She continues to stand there and stare at me like she’s the neighborhood watch when I push the door open and rush inside.
Empty.
It’s completely empty.
A shaky breath leaves me, my heart cracking with tiny fissures as I look around the living room and kitchen area. The furniture is still here. The chair and coffee table. The couch where he made me come on his tongue for the first time.
I step inside, shutting the door on the nosy woman out in the hall, and make my way on shaky legs through the apartment. I stop at the bathroom, flipping the light on. All his toiletries are gone. No soap. No razor on the sinks edge. Not even a speck of lint or a roll of toilet paper.
A quiet tear slips down my cheek, and I’m powerless to stop it, heading instead to his bedroom.
The California king bed still sits against the wall, a lamp on one end of the table and a clock on the other. The curtains are partially open, filling the room with an eerie glow. I push open his closet door and nearly fall to my knees.
All his clothes have been wiped out.
He left. He really fucking left.
I step back into the living room, a numbness taking over me, and I stand in the center for what feels like ages, just staring at the couch.
He left.
My phone buzzes in my pocket, and I know it’s Tomas asking if I’m okay, but I ignore him. I’m too busy spiraling.
A quiet sob wrenches from my throat, and I sink to the carpet on shaky legs.
He really fucking left.
As if I never meant anything to him.
You need to forget about me, little devil.
My eyes stay glued on the mantel, my heart cracking in my chest, and that’s when I let myself cry.
“Mila, please wait up.”
I continue walking, ignoring my sister.
I was doing so well, ignoring everything that happened. It’s been three months since he left, and yet the moment his name was mentioned tonight at the family barbeque, all the pain I’ve been burying under a mountain of numbness came crashing back in.
I want to forget him. I want to erase the memories that he exists in from my brain so I don’t have to be reminded that while I may still be in love with him, he doesn’t feel the same.
“Please talk to me? What happened between you and Christian?”
Anger swells in my chest, and I scoff. I turn around, nearly forcing her to run into me.
“I’m sure you’d love to know all about that, wouldn’t you.”
She falls back like I’d slapped her.
“What?” she barks.
Bitter resentment coils in my chest that’s completely unfounded.
Bailey’s married. She just announced she’s pregnant. Christian literally told me he didn’t want her, but people lie all the time. Why should he be any different?
“And me?” I breathe, my heart thudding awkwardly in my ears. “If I asked you if you had a thing for me, would you tell the truth?”
“The truth?” he chuckles darkly, and my stomach drops to my toes. “The truth is a dangerous thing, little devil.”
I shake my head. Whatever he said, it doesn’t matter now. He proved he didn’t mean it when he disappeared without a word. “Nothing. I’m sorry. I just want to be alone.”
“But Mila—”
“I’m fine , Bailey,” I snap, stepping into the darkness of my bedroom. “Go back to the party.”
I shut the door on her before she can say anything else because, quite frankly, I just want to be alone.
I can’t explain the visceral reaction my body had to hearing his name. It’s like he reached a hand into my chest and ripped that pain back to the surface, and now, I’m right back at square one.
Just a girl desperately in love with a man who doesn’t want her.
Gritting my teeth, I throw the phone on my bed and rip out the clip holding my hair. Kicking off my shoes, I start towards the bathroom.
I’m going to take a shower and go to bed. Screw dinner.
Only the moment I turn around, I come face to face with a pair of deep blue eyes that are so intense, they burn me to a crisp on the spot.
If I thought hearing his name was bad, seeing him live and in the flesh may as well be an out-of-body experience.
I fall back a step, nearly crashing to the bed when I stumble into it. My heart bottoms out, my skin tingles, and heat slips through my veins.
It’s really him. He came back for me.
And then, as quickly as the aching desire filled me, it’s replaced with anger.
“Oh . . . it’s you.”
If Christian’s surprised by the iciness in my tone, he doesn’t show it.
He steps out from the shadows, his eyes dark. My heart threatens to somersault out of my chest when the familiar scent of his skin washes over me.
God . . . is it possible to miss someone’s scent?
My chest aches with a pain I’ve never recognized. Remembering the way he used to hold me. So careful, but like I was his to break if he pleased. I’ve never felt so adored . . . cherished.
Then he left, and I realized it was all a lie.
Every. Single. Word.
“What are you doing here, Christian?” I have to work to keep my voice indifferent when all I really want to do is fall into his arms.
Pathetic, right?
I can feel the carefully constructed facade threatening to crumble. Three months with no word. Not even a fuck you, Mila.
He doesn’t answer. Instead, his gaze continues to linger on me. Like I’m nothing more than a ghost lingering in the void. Tears well in my eyes, and I desperately try to force them back. Unfortunately, he notices and something flashes across his gaze before it’s replaced with a look of indifference.
“Why are you here?” I snap, venom coating my voice. “We’re done, right?”
His eyes flash dangerously in the moonlight, streaming through the window. He doesn’t answer, and as each second ticks by, my heart shatters a little bit more.
When it becomes clear I’m not going to get any answers, I shake my head and close my eyes against the burning sting, blurring my gaze. Unfortunately, a tear slips down my cheek from beneath my lashes.
He doesn’t deserve to see my pain . . .
“Go away, Christian. I don’t ever want to see you again.”
I attempt to stride past him, but before I can, he catches me around the waist, spinning me around. My hand comes up, but he catches my wrist in his fingers, preventing me from slapping him, just as my lips crash against his.
The moment our lips meet, it feels like coming home. A desperate whimper slips from my lips, and he lets out a rough growl, releasing my wrist to fist my hair, tugging me closer to him. His other hand grips my ass, holding me against his front, and I melt under his searing touch.
It’s angry and violent. Caustic and so perfect, my toes curl against the soft rug beneath my feet.
“Mila,” he murmurs gruffly when I reach for the button of his jeans. “This isn’t about that.”
“Then why are you here?” I breathe against his lips.
“Because I couldn’t stay away.”
“Please,” I whimper into his mouth and he lets out a gruff sound—a mix of pain and desire that goes straight to my chest and walks me backward towards the bed.
My family is right outside, but I couldn’t care less. All that matters is the aching desire building between my legs and the feel of his skin against mine.
The moment my back hits the comforter, my nails fingers fist in his shirt, tugging it up, and he rips it over his head. My dress comes off, then his jeans, and finally, he’s falling over me, gripping my hips, and hauling me down to meet the thrust of his cock.
The moment he pushes inside me, no barriers or foreplay, I let out a shaky moan, my body sucking him in greedily.
“ Fuck ,” he grits between his teeth, a shudder rolling through him.
Tears burn in my eyes from the sting, but I don’t want him to stop. It feels too good. I need this. Need him more than I ever thought possible.
“Christian,” I mewl, my eyes fluttering closed.
“Christ,” he says huskily, his head kicking back and his Adam’s apple bobbing with a heavy swallow. “I’ve been starved for you.”
Rearing back on his heals, he spreads me so my thighs are resting over his, his eyes locking with where he’s slowly slipping in and out of me. His grip on my hip tightens with each thrust and I’m sure I’ll have bruises to remind me of him in the morning.
He rolls his hips, stirring his cock inside and pulling down onto his length. I let out a gasp at how deep he is, my hands digging into his, and my core tightening as if I can keep him here.
“You and I will never be over, Mila,” he rasps, punishing me with harsh thrusts that only drive me towards the precipice of coming.
“Oh my God,” I groan, my head falling back and my eyes rolling from the heavy wave of pleasure when he brushes that sensitive spot inside me. I’ve been so lonely, aching for him, that I’m powerless to stop the orgasm as it rips through me. “ Christian!”
“There’s my good girl,” he rasps, and I swear, I imagined the smile in his voice.
Flipping me over, he grabs my hips, dragging me back, and I whimper at his fist in my hair, a tingle slipping through me at the rough groan that leaves him.
“Why did you leave me?” I ask through clenched teeth when he continues to fuck me. He’s got my hands pinned to the mattress on either side of my head while he drives inside me like he can’t stop. Like he’s as desperate for me as I am for him.
“Feel me, Mila. I’m right here.”
“You left,” I choke out, burying my face into the comforter below me.
“I’ll never leave you. Trust me, Mila . . .” he rasps, setting up a steady pace while I feel like the world is floating away around us. Nothing else matters right now.
“How can I trust you when you won’t even speak to me?” I whimper. He reaches beneath me, circling my clit with his fingers, and I jerk in his grasp.
He presses his lips to the side of my neck, nipping my flesh between his teeth. “Feel me, sweetheart. Feel how bad I need you.”
“You . . . left . . .” My body tightens, my orgasm threatening to steal my breath away.
He lets out a pained groan, burying his head into the side of my neck.
“It’s not forever,” he says, voice dark and hoarse. “You and I will never be done, Mila.”
My heart flutters, but before I can speak, the orgasm rips through me, leaving me shaking and wet while he continues to fuck me from behind. His hand comes over my mouth, silencing the cry that leaves my lips, and my legs give out underneath him.
He flattens out overtop me, continuing to pump inside me, and it feels so good, my eyes cross, and I swear I see stars.
“That’s it, baby. Come for me,” he rasps, pulling me tighter against him until his back is pressed to my front completely. He continues to fuck me, the sound of our skin meeting filling the room, and his arms band around me, holding me tightly like he can’t stand the thought of letting me go.
“You’re so fucking pretty, it hurts to look at you,” he groans in my ear. His face nuzzles into the side of my neck and goosebumps break my skin. “I’m going fucking crazy without you. I had to see you.”
“Why are you doing this to us?” I ask, a choked sound breaking through my voice. “Why are you punishing me?”
“It has to be this way, Mila . . .” he bites out between rough breaths.
“You’re tearing me apart . . . I can’t live like this, Christian.”
“I know. Just trust me, Mila.” He presses soft lips to the side of my face. “Trust me,” he whispers in my ear.
The night passes in a frantic blur. When he’s not fucking me, he’s feasting on me. I punish him with my nails, my teeth. He takes it all, groaning at the pleasure and pain we unleash on one another.
When both of us are too tired to continue, he finally cleans me up and climbs into bed behind me, his arms around me while he holds me against his chest.
I don’t know what time it is when we stop. I’m too tired to open my eyes and look at the clock, but I can feel him. He’s here.
My skin is chaffed, my body sore and vibrating for how many times he made me come.
“Stay,” I whisper, even though I told myself I wouldn’t beg him.
The last memory I have is of his lips pressed against my cheek.
And when I wake in the morning, he’s gone.