Chapter 12 #2
She doesn’t answer. I press my chest to her back, and that’s when I feel that slight shake of her body. She’s crying. Silent, controlled, but crying.
“Beautiful,” I breathe.
“I’m sorry,” she whispers, hugging herself tighter. “I just... I don’t.”
“Talk to me. Please.” I lean in and kiss the shell of her ear.
“There’s nothing you can do. It’s me.”
I turn her in my arms, needing to see her face. “Everything that upsets you concerns me.”
“It’s my own crap. You know, the not really fitting in. The odd one out.” She gives a delicate shrug of one of her shoulders. “Your mom hates me, and Cordelia fits into your family like she was born there. Maybe you should—”
I kiss her, hard, not wanting to hear her say all the reasons we shouldn’t be together.
My sweet girl melts into me, kissing me back.
“Listen to me,” I say, breaking the kiss, gripping her chin so that she can’t look away from me. “I don’t care about Cordelia. I don’t care about my mother’s approval or the right family or any of it. I care about you. Only you.”
“For how long?” She lets out a small sniffle, and I’m sure today has been a lot.
“All the minutes,” I remind her. “Every single one.”
“You keep saying that.”
“Because I mean it, and I’ll keep saying it until you get it.” I cup her face, leaning down to be closer, my thumbs brushing her wet cheeks. “I’m not good at this, Mable. I don’t know how to do relationships or feelings or any of it. But I’m trying. For you, I’m trying.”
She searches my face, looking for the lie. She won’t find it.
“Kiss me again,” she whispers, a soft smile forming.
I do. Soft at first, then deeper, pouring everything I don’t know how to say into it. She responds, clutching my jacket, pulling me closer. When we break apart, she’s breathless again, her eyes clearer. I have her back, and I want to keep it that way.
“Let’s get out of here,” I say. I want to be all alone with her. I need her under me so I know she’s not trying to get away from me. To help settle the sensation of panic that wants to creep in.
“No.” She shakes her head. “We can’t. It’s your brother’s wedding.”
“I don’t care.” I take her hand, threading our fingers together. “If anyone would understand, it’s Julian. He left his birthday party two months ago to chase Emery across three countries.”
A small laugh escapes her, watery but real. “Three countries?”
“Long story.” I brush hair back from her face. “The point is, he’d get it. He’d want me to choose you.”
She studies my face, looking for uncertainty, but she won’t find it there. If there is anything I’m certain about, it’s being with her.
“Okay,” she finally says.
I lead her back through the terrace doors, past the crowd, and to my family’s table, where Cordelia watches with wide eyes and my mother’s expression is carefully blank.
I don’t stop. I don’t explain. I don’t need to or have to.
They are going to have to get used to the fact that things are changing.
Everyone. Especially Cordelia, who I plan to have a conversation with later.
We find Julian near the bar, already three drinks deep and laughing at something Emery whispered in his ear. He sees us coming and must understand what’s written on my face.
“Escaping?” he asks, not surprised.
“I’m done sharing her for the night,” I say.
Julian’s smile spreads slowly and knowingly.
He pulls me into a one-armed hug, clapping my back hard.
“I’m happy for you and fucking thankful you didn’t get wrangled into some bullshit by Mom.
” He turns to Mable, taking her free hand and pressing a gallant kiss to her knuckles. “It was lovely to meet you, Mable.”
“It was lovely to meet you too,” she says, and I hear the smile in her voice. “Especially your wife.”
“Ahh,” Julian laughs, “not that I can blame you.”
Emery hugs her, quick and warm, pressing something into her hand. “My number,” she says quietly. “If you ever need an escape route.”
“Thank you,” Mable tells her, and they hug again, harder.
We slip out, leaving the music and the watching eyes behind. The elevator doors slide shut, and the air changes immediately. I’m over having to control my touching her tonight. I’m going to show her how badly I want her. How much I need her tonight and every other night going forward.
Mable’s back hits the mirrored wall, my hands finding her waist, my mouth descending on hers before the elevator’s door fully closes. She makes a small sound in her throat, her fingers tangling in my hair, pulling me closer. I can feel her heart hammering against my chest, or maybe that’s mine.
The doors open, and I force myself to break the kiss only to lift her, her legs wrapping around my waist, her laugh breathless against my ear as I carry her down the hall. Fumbling with the key. Kicking the door shut behind us.
I pin her against the nearest wall, her dress bunched at her hips, my hands everywhere. She arches into me, gasping, and I feel the panic finally settle inside of me. She’s here. Now. She’s not slipping away from me. She’s mine. I won’t allow anyone to take her from me.
“I need you,” I say against her throat, “all night.”
She laughs, breathless, her fingers working my tie loose. “I love the sound of that.” I want to tell her I love the sounds of her; fuck, I think I’m already in love with her, but I don’t say that. She’s still too skittish. I don’t need her thinking I’m crazier than I already am.
I carry her toward the bedroom, her legs tight around me.
I need to get her back to my country. There I can make sure she can’t simply slip away.
It’s a fucked-up thought, but it’s there, nonetheless.
Another that’s been floating in my mind since I slid my cock into her bare body is her getting pregnant. That will bind her to me.
“Wells—” she moans.
“Right here.” I kiss her jaw, her collarbone, and the hollow of her throat. I lift my head momentarily to stare into her eyes. “All that matters is that I have you.”
She stares at me, something shifting in her expression. Then she reaches up, pulling my mouth back to hers.
“Show me,” she whispers.
I do. All night. Until the sun rises over the ocean and she’s curled into my side, asleep, her head on my chest, right where she belongs.