Chapter 20
Chapter Twenty
REBEKKA
I’ve never had as many orgasms in my life, and we didn’t even have sex.
My muscles are limp and my legs feel like I’ve run a marathon, but I’m happier tonight than I have been in years.
Three years, specifically. I stare through the moonlight at the man stretched out in my bed.
He finally agreed to take his shirt and suit trousers off.
Unfortunately, or fortunately for my conscience, his black fitted Calvin Klein boxers remain firmly in position.
His hand cradles the back of his head as he sprawls halfway beneath my Egyptian cotton sheets.
There’s a good chance I’m never washing them again.
His eyes are closed, and I take a minute to memorise this moment.
Dark stubble dusts his strong, square jawline.
Huge sculpted shoulders silently brag about all the gym work he must do.
The curve of his bicep is so pronounced it makes me want to run my tongue over it.
A smattering of dark hair peeks from his armpits, begging me to bury my face in there and inhale his raw masculine scent.
Is that weird? Wanting to sniff a man’s armpit? He is the most attractive creature to grace God’s green earth.
It’s not weird—it’s love—a tiny voice whispers inside of me.
Oh no.
It can’t be.
Love is a luxury I can’t afford.
Especially not with him.
Thick black eyelashes sweep over his cheeks as he blink his eyes open. ‘Are you staring at me?’ He reaches for me and pulls me into his powerful chest. ‘That’s kind of creepy.’
I nuzzle my cheek into his pec, the sound of his heart thrumming into my ear. ‘Says the man who claims to be obsessed with me.
‘I don’t claim to be, I am.’ He presses a kiss to my forehead. ‘Which is why your lingerie is in my suit pocket as a souvenir.’
‘Funny,’ I slap his chest playfully.
‘I’m not joking,’ he says solemnly.
‘Well, if that’s true, it probably won’t creep you out that I’ve been sleeping in your t-shirt since I stole it two months ago.’
He sniggers. ‘You have no idea how happy that makes me.’
Today has been the best day of my life. Not just because of all the orgasms. Because of him.
After he blew my body apart with his tongue for the third time, we cuddled up on the couch with the rest of the champagne, a blanket, and some Cadbury’s chocolate and watched It’s A Wonderful Life.
Then we played Clue. Then we ate all the cheese in the house.
Then he ate me again. And now, here we are.
‘Are you tired?’ I ask, smoothing a palm over his chest and tilting my face up to meet his gaze.
His eyes fly open. ‘Not too tired to get you off again, if that’s what you’re asking.’
I laugh again then. Something I’ve done a lot of this afternoon. ‘I’m probably not going to be able to walk tomorrow as it is, but thank you for offering anyway.’
His arm wraps tighter around my shoulder.
‘I’d still like to get you off.’
He sighs, ‘I’d like that too, baby, but it’s not going to happen. I told you already, I came here to give, not take.’
‘And you gave and gave and gave again.’ I sigh at the memories.
‘If you go to sleep like a good girl, I’ll wake you up in the best way,’ he promises.
A shiver rips over my spine.
‘I can’t sleep,’ I admit.
‘Why not?’ His lips brush over the top of my head again.
‘It’s too quiet. I usually sleep with white noise on.
A meditation or sometimes a sleep story.
It’s just so… quiet here compared to New York.
’ I wince. In the few months Anthony and I did try to share a room, my need for noise used to drive him mad.
It provides the perfect excuse to not share a room when we stay at his family’s house.
‘So why aren’t we listening to one then?’ He smooths his hand over my hair.
‘You don’t mind?’
‘Sweetheart, if you wanted me to listen to Baby Shark on repeat all night, I’d fucking listen to it. I’m just so grateful to finally get to spend the night with you.’
My heart swells in my chest, then splinters.
This man.
He’s everything.
Everything I need.
Everything I’ll never have.
I twist to the side, patting around until I find my phone.
Squinting at the screen, I pull up a compilation of my favourite mediations and affirmations.
I’m going to need something powerful to help me sleep tonight because when the euphoria finally wears off, the guilt will kick in with a vengeance.
I tap on one of Louise Hay’s nighttime affirmations, which I know will assure me I’m a good person—even if what I’ve done today with the man beside me is anything but good.
The slow, familiar music starts first. I put my phone back on the bedside locker, snuggle back in to Rian, and listen to the sounds floating through the darkness.
He cradles me in his arms, like I’m the most precious thing in the world, and for a brief few moments in time, I let myself believe it and finally fall asleep in his arms.
True to his word, the next morning, I wake up to feel Rian’s tongue expertly gliding between my legs, teasing me and devastating me in the most hedonistic way. I sigh happily and part my legs wider for him.
‘Good girl,’ approval thrums in his tone.
My fingers reach for his hair again. I could get used to this.
Except I can’t.
He works me with that talented tongue until a million shooting stars shimmer behind my eyelids and my orgasm explodes like a firework, cracking and fizzing through every cell I own. He laps up every drop, like he’s enjoying this as much as I am.
Finally, when my legs cease their trembling, he slides up on top of me, resting his weight on his elbows. ‘Good morning, gorgeous.’ He presses a kiss to my lips, and I can taste myself.
For some stupid reason, tears form in my eyes and start spilling like a fucking burst dam down my cheeks.
Horror etches into his expression as he swipes them away, but the next one replaces it just as quickly. ‘I’m so sorry, baby. I’m so fucking sorry.’ He cradles the back of my neck, hugging me tight into his chest.
‘Don’t be sorry,’ I manage to hiccup out. ‘It’s not that. It’s not you.’
‘What’s wrong? Don’t feel guilty, Bekka, don’t you dare,’ his voice turns harsher then.
‘This is why I wouldn’t let you touch me.
Call it fucked up morals or whatever you like, but you have done nothing wrong.
This is all on me. Let me carry the weight of it.
Let me carry the guilt. I refuse to let you carry that along with everything else.
’ He jerks back so we’re almost nose to nose.
Huge ebony eyes bore into mine. ‘Do you think he’s feeling guilty this morning? ’ He snorts.
‘It’s not that,’ I say quietly, dragging the back of my hand over my streaky cheeks.
‘What then?’ His eyes search mine.
‘I probably should feel bad about Anthony,’ I pause, swallowing the lump in my throat. ‘But the truth is, I feel bad for us. For you. For me. That this can never happen again.’
‘Never say never, sweetheart,’ his jaw tightens, a determined glint forms in his eye.
‘Between us, we’ll lose everything. You told me last night your parents would be horrified if you ran off with your best friend’s wife—and who could blame them.
It would be a total scandal. Mine wouldn’t exactly be impressed with me either.
Neither would the De Courcys. That’s three families ruined.
I’d lose everything I’ve worked for over the last three years.
All the misery Anthony put me through would be for nothing. ’
He sighs. ‘Technically, it’s been three years, eleven weeks, and two days—but who’s counting.’
‘I’m so glad we had this, though…’ I trail off, blinking back a fresh river of tears.
‘Me too. Me too, sweetheart.’ He flops onto the bed beside me, and I snuggle into his chest one last time.