14. Astor
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
ASTOR
I ’m starting to lose my strength, the strength I’ve held onto and had for the last six years. I’ve kept her away for a reason. I knew that if I got close to her, I’d fucking forget that I should never be with her. She brings out the feral animal in me. My need to protect her from any and everything. Now, I have to marry her. And the feelings I fought so hard to put away are busting through the bullshit wall I built, that she made me build.
The moment my father bought that piece of shit up, the only feeling I was filled with was regret. Regret that I didn’t kill him when I had the chance. Regret that my father walked in when he did. Regret that he took every piece of Alessia and her memories. Her memories of us. She shut down completely that day. She didn’t speak, she didn’t eat, and the next day she didn’t fucking remember. Miles had tormented her to the point of dissociation. She mentally placed herself somewhere else while she was in the process of being raped, and when she came back, she didn’t remember fucking anything. What’s even worse is that instead of just blocking out that day , she blocked out every emotion and feeling she’d ever had that entire goddamn year , including for me. Including us .
I change into my running joggers and a black t-shirt. Times like this, I need to run to clear my head. How am I supposed to marry her without telling her what she forgot? She’s said so many times to me how she is tired of everyone keeping things from her, how she hates that she always feels out of the loop. Our already doomed marriage is starting out with me keeping one of the biggest secrets ever from her. I want to tell her, but I can’t. I’m not fucking allowed.
I’m pulling my shoes on when I hear footsteps nearing the stairs.
“I can find him—I don’t need you walking me everywhere.” I smirk at the sound of Alessia giving Todd hell.
“Miss, just let me tell him you’re?—”
“Will you stop fucking calling me miss ? Astor!” she bellows. I stand at the top of the stairs as her eyes pierce through mine.
“Todd, she’s good. Leave her.” She rolls her eyes at him and crosses her arms as she stalks up the stairs towards me.
“What are you doing?” I ask her, eyeing the bag she’s holding when she reaches the top of the stairs.
“You said I had to stay with you from now on.” She shrugs as she drops her bag at our feet. I try my best to hide my surprise, but I can tell I failed when the side of her mouth tilts up in a smirk. She looks me over and raises her eyebrow. “Going for a run?”
“I was.” I’m towering over her as she looks up at me. She’s always been short, but today she seems extremely short.
“Was?” I can’t stop myself when I reach my hand out and tuck her hair behind her ear. She flinches for a second and it makes me want to kill Miles all over again. Her body even knows what she doesn’t. She steps closer to me, our bodies practically molded together. The scent of her fills my nose and I inhale her as much as possible before dropping my hand and taking a step back. She shakes her head and takes a step forward, making me take another back.
“Don’t do that. You can still hate me, but at least hate me while you fuck me.”
“You don’t know what you’re asking. You aren’t ready. And I do not hate you, stop saying it.”
She isn’t ready…or maybe it’s me. Maybe I’m not ready to admit that the moment I fuck her, all bets are off. I’m losing this battle, and if I don’t regain myself quickly, I’m going to fuck her against this wall. The look she’s giving me, the way she’s pulling her shirt because she’s nervous. And if she bites that lip one more time, I’m done for.
“Astor…please.”
“Come for a run with me.” She frowns briefly and then sighs, picking up her bag and chugging into the bathroom to change.
I attempt to adjust my cock that is now painfully hard against these fucking joggers. Leaning my head back against the wall, I mentally battle with myself and what to do. If I tell her, her parents will hate me. If I don’t tell her, she’ll hate me—more than she already does.
She doesn’t hate you.
“Ok, ready.” She’s wearing a pair of leggings and a sports bra.
“ Little devil , it’s December and you’re not wearing that.”
“Of course not, I’m putting a jacket over it!” She gestures to the flimsy, light, black windbreaker she has in her hand as I shake my head. She sneaks past me and jogs down the stairs, giving me a view of her perfect fucking ass.
Reminder: Burn all of her fucking leggings.
We’re a mile into our run and I peek over to her. “Doing ok?”
“I’m fine, I run two miles every morning.” I know she does, because I’ve run her same route for the last six years to keep an eye on her.
“When did you start doing that?” I ask.
“Uhm, six years ago. I don’t know why, actually. It’s just something I started doing one day.”
Wrong. It’s something your therapist told you to do.
“I can feel you staring, malyshka .” She grins, slowing down and taking a sip of her water. “Need a break?”
“Nope, I’m good. How long do you usually run?”
“I usually do six miles.” Her eyes almost double in size and I chuckle.
“SIX?! Fuck. Me. I’m screwed.” She takes a deep breath and kicks her feet into gear again. The run is always beautiful here. There’s a lake on my property that runs along the trail; it's always my rest point, to remind myself to take it all in.
The next three miles go by painfully slow. I’m hyperaware of the woman running next to me and how she’s fighting so hard to make it to the end. She has unzipped her jacket and it’s blowing in the wind as she runs.
She sees the hill and groans. I actually laugh, making her frown at me as I push up the hill. “We can break up here.”
“Oh no! Don’t stop on my account, I’m doing just fine.”
“You look like you’ve ran twenty miles instead of four. That we practically could’ve walked with how slow we were running .” She drops her hands on her knees when we get to the top of the hill, her chest rising and falling so fast that I think for a moment she’ll actually hyperventilate.
“I’m never running with you again. I know you hate me, but I still thought you’d be a little nicer to me.” I smirk at her as she stands up with her hands on her hips, looking at the lake in front of her. “This is beautiful.”
“It is...” I want to touch her. I want to touch her so fucking bad that my hands physically feel like they’re burning. She’s a fucking vision and she knows it. I’m sure of it when she throws her hair over and pulls it into a bun on top of her head.
My chest constricts as I watch her. This woman is everything. And I can no longer make myself believe that there was ever going to be a time where I could move on without her.