11. Chloe
Chapter 11
Chloe
I was hot. Sweating really. Too uncomfortable to sleep any longer.
I opened my eyes and studied the exquisite beam stretching overhead and the large windows letting in the blinding morning sunlight.
Squinting, I continued my exploration and quickly realized why I was sweating.
Gus.
Naked.
Draped over me like a big lumberjack blanket.
I lifted my head slightly. Yup. He wasn’t the only naked one here.
Eyes closed again, I relished the delicious memories of last night.
Sex.
Hot sex.
Dirty and urgent and hurried.
Yet tender too.
We’d been up for most of the night. I’d insult him, and then he’d make me come. We’d hydrate and repeat the cycle. At one point, we were raiding the fridge for more cheese, and I told him his oral technique needed work, so he ate me out on the kitchen counter.
I’d made a huge mistake, getting high on his lumberjack pheromones and abandoning all my good sense.
He’d made me come with his hands, his tongue, and the monster in his pants.
Heat crept up my chest and neck at that last thought. It was bigger than I remembered. And he knew exactly how to use it.
I studied his face. He was more relaxed than I’d seen him since our days together all those years ago. The hard lines were smooth, making him look years younger. His head was on my chest, his mouth inches from my nipple, which was hardening from his proximity alone. The dark lashes, the unkempt hair, and the scraggly beard. It was all so Gus.
And this house.
Jesus, if I hadn’t been attracted to him before, coming here would have been enough to do it. This place was beautiful and thoughtful, and listening to him tell the story of building it over seven years cemented my admiration for him.
His dedication, his focus.
All night, he turned that focus on me.
The man was methodical and thorough in his work, but it was nothing compared to the focus he brought to my pleasure.
He shifted and rolled, exposing his chest. I studied the ink on his shoulders, tracing the lines with my eyes.
As I moved to the designs on his chest, my heart lurched.
Oh shit.
A dragonfly.
Right over his heart. Thin, delicate wings spread up toward his collarbone. I hadn’t noticed in the dim light last night. It blended in with the other ink and chest hair, but it was clear as day in the bright morning light. And right below it, in tiny script, were numbers. 11.11.04 .
Oh my God. It was our wedding date. Fuck. My fingertips began to tingle, and a lump formed in my throat, making it hard to breathe. I was suffocating.
How dare he? How dare he mark his body forever with a relationship he so carelessly tossed away? Last night’s haze lifted, and as I studied him again, I saw him for who he really was. The kind of man who could pledge forever one minute, and in the next, turn on the person he was supposed to care about most.
My stomach roiled. I was an idiot. How could I have fallen for this all over again?
“You gonna stare at me all morning, Dragonfly?” he asked, turning to give me a sleepy smile.
My shoulders tensed in response to his deep, raspy voice. What had I been thinking? I’d let him lull me into some kind of lumberjack sex haze, and now, in clear daylight, I saw this for what it really was.
A backslide.
An emotionally dangerous hookup.
With my ex-husband.
The man who’d broken me, body and soul. And I’d let him in again.
He sat up and shifted, pulling me against him. “Did I crush you?”
I shook my head and avoided eye contact. “Just hot. I should get dressed.” I swung my legs around the side of the bed, but before I could stand, one large arm snaked around my waist and pulled me back down.
“No,” he growled, pinning me beneath him and dipping low to gently kiss me. “You think I’m letting you out of this bed?”
“Gus, I need to go.” I managed a firm tone, shocked when my voice didn’t tremble. I had the overwhelming urge to burst into tears, but I had to fight it.
His face fell.
“Please,” I said softly.
With a sigh, he rolled off me.
As I climbed out of bed and scooped my dress up off the floor, he lay in bed, naked and handsome, watching me, not letting me off the hook.
I turned to him. “Put some clothes on.”
“Why?”
“Because I can’t have this conversation with”—I shook with frustration—“ that here.”
With a smug smirk, he looked down at his cock, which was already hardening.
“You didn’t mind last night.”
I stomped into the massive walk-in closet and wrenched open one drawer after another until I found one filled with a neat stack of folded boxers. I threw them at his face and turned to look out at the mountains as he slid them on.
When he was covered up and standing, I inhaled deeply, shoring up my defenses. “This was a big mistake.”
“Which time?” he asked, his tone far too nonchalant after we had spent the night fucking like wild rabbits.
“All of them.”
“Nah. I disagree. By round three, we’d really found our groove. We can build on that. Take things up a notch.” He winked. The man fucking winked.
Why couldn’t he grasp what a terrible idea this had been?
“I’m not interested,” I said, keeping my tone firm even as bile rose in my throat. I had to be strong. “Thanks for helping me blow off some steam.”
Silently, he assessed me. In the morning light, he was so large and powerful. And when he crossed his big arms, I wanted to take it all back and jump into them. Close my eyes and enjoy the sensation of being truly protected from the world.
“It’s better to be up front and honest. I don’t even like you. You’re grumpy and stubborn and set in your ways. We’re different people, and the feelings that once existed are long dead and buried.”
His shoulders slumped, and the gentle grin he’d been wearing was replaced by his usual scowl. Good. I needed him to act like the grumpy asshole I knew he was. Not some irresistible, sleepy sex machine who doled out orgasms on command.
He watched me, silent and confused, as I headed out into the kitchen. Quickly, I found my purse and phone on the island, then headed for the door. Home. I needed to go home and figure out what the hell I’d gotten myself into.
But he wasn’t letting me off the hook that easily.
He followed me, calling my name, hell-bent on having a conversation. As if it was possible to discuss the insanity of last night.
“If this is about what happened between us—”
“Stop.” I held up my hand as I slipped my shoes on. “I don’t want to rehash the past, but just know that I can’t forgive you. I will never forgive you.”
I took a deep breath and continued on, making sure he’d understand. “This isn’t what I want. You’re not what I want.”
He was silent, his big blue eyes so full of hurt. And I knew I had to officially kill whatever this was dead.
“I’m on birth control, by the way,” I said, straightening my spine.
His only response was a nod.
“But now I’ll have to get tested. Who knows what you could have given me.”
His eyes widened, and he took half a step back, clearly shocked by the awful words I was spewing at him. But they did the trick. When he recovered, he stood to his full height, with hands fisted at his sides, radiating pure rage.
“I’m healthy,” he gritted out. “I’ll happily prove it to you.”
As guilt and shame washed through me, I turned away and stepped into the summer sunshine. Car. I needed to put one foot in front of the other and get in the damn car.
He followed me every step of the way, silently brooding.
As I climbed in, he held the door open, and when I was settled, he leaned in so close I was enveloped in the heady mix of pine and sandalwood. God, I hated myself for pouring salt on these old wounds. For hurting him. He didn’t deserve this. But it was the only way I could protect myself.
“You can leave,” he murmured, his voice so low his words were barely audible. “But you need to know that I never got over you. I don’t even want to anymore. You are magnificent and deserve everything.”
My heart thudded and my ears rang. I couldn’t hear this. Not right now. I was too vulnerable.
“I get it. I’m not worthy of you. But I promise, I will be. My life has been upended, and I’ve been forced to face some hard truths. I’m still figuring out who I am and who I’m going to be. But I’m coming for you, Dragonfly. It will take time, work, and sacrifice, but I’m committed. I will make you mine again. This time, for good.”
I gaped at him, certain my heart was about to explode in my chest. He was a liar. I had to remember that. And all the words he’d just poured out were nothing but pretty lies.
“Goodbye, Gus.”