Chapter 19 - Augusto
Augusto
When I wake up, she’s still sleeping, her chest moving faintly, her breath slipping soundlessly in and out. A cloud of blonde hair is splayed across the pillow and her expression is peaceful.
I thought the run last night would have helped, but the heat traveling to my cock and balls at the sight of Erin lying beside me, is clear, irrefutable evidence it did not.
I tore through the wooded trail like I was being chased.
My lungs burned, the branches lashed at my legs and sweat ran down my back.
I didn’t stop. I just pushed myself harder, faster, until my vision blurred.
But nothing could shift the sound of her little moans and the feel of her soft and eager lips kissing me back.
I turn my focus back to the ceiling. We’re only on day two of a seven day retreat, and while I knew bringing a woman I fancied the fuck out of here was a little risky, I had no idea it would be this hard.
I shouldn’t have kissed her. But then, I couldn’t think of what else to do to cover up our blunder. That, and a small—okay, large—part of me had been wanting to do it ever since I saw her returning to the stables on horseback.
And now I know what she tastes like. I know how warm and soft and skillful her lips are. My ears are now familiar with the sound of her desire, and they want more.
One taste and I’m a fucking addict.
How the hell am I going to get through the rest of the retreat without reaching for her again and mashing my lips to hers? How can I possibly share a bed with her after having a small taster of her moans?
Christ, I’m screwed. Way to make this mission the hardest thing I’ve ever done.
“How was your run?” Her husky morning voice sends a fresh dart of sex into the base of my spine.
“Good,” I say, not moving. “Sleep okay?”
“Great.” The pleasant lilt to her tone sends a gentle warmth through me. Neither of us speaks again for a few moments.
“Can I ask you a personal question?”
Okay, not relaxed anymore. “Sure.”
“Why aren’t you married?”
Stunned at the choice of topic, I turn my head to the side. She’s still staring at the ceiling.
“I don’t do relationships.”
She falls silent. Then, when I think the subject has been dropped, she speaks again.
“Why don’t you ‘do’ relationships?”
I exhale a long breath. “I don’t have time for one.”
That’s a lie. I could find the time if I wanted to. And I’m getting close to wanting to—with Erin. Another reason why I need to just get through the next four days then leave it all behind.
“Have you ever been in a serious relationship?”
My jaw hardens until I breathe again. “Yes. Once. A long time ago.”
Her voice is quieter. “What happened?”
A minute or two passes as I think about telling her. I haven’t spoken about Francesca in over ten years.
My voice cracks. “She died.”
Erin’s face is white when she turns to me.
“I’m so sorry.”
Now it’s my turn to stare at the ceiling. I don’t know how this woman has a way of making me want to open up, but with her, I feel safe to talk about this stuff. Some of it, anyway.
“We had a fight. She left. I shouldn’t have let her go out into the night alone. It was—”
“It was what?”
I choose my words carefully. Francesca died because of the life I chose, and that’s why I can’t ever let someone in again. I won’t have yet another innocent woman’s death on my conscience.
“Where we lived… it was too dangerous. She was killed in a drive by shooting.”
“Oh my God,” Erin whispers. “That’s awful. I really am sorry, August.”
Swallowing hard, I recover quickly. “It’s okay. I’ve had many years to make my peace with it.”
I don’t add that I haven’t yet managed to do so. The guilt haunts me so deeply, it’s a part of who I am—the ‘August’ that doesn’t ‘do’ relationships, because when I do, people die.
I turn to her. “Can I ask you a personal question?”
“Um, okay, sure.”
“Why are you leaving your husband?”
I turn to see her eyes widen and her chest brace. She breathes steadily for a couple of minutes before she replies.
“He beat me.”
Suddenly, I’m sitting up, staring at her. “He what?”
She doesn’t look at me. Just continues to stare at the ceiling, choosing her words with care. “It only happened twice.”
I want to say it shouldn’t have fucking happened at all. And also, the minute all this is over I’m going to track that bastard down and disable his fucking hands.
“The first time, he—” She clears her throat and starts over.
“He used to work away a lot but he always told me when he’d be home.
This one time though, he didn’t. He was two days late and I couldn’t get hold of him.
Paige was worried about her daddy. When he walked through the door one afternoon, so blasé, as if there was absolutely nothing wrong, I just blew up.
“I yelled at him, told him he’d been selfish, he should have called, blah blah blah.
He backhanded me right there. I fell into the wall, completely disoriented.
He kicked me while I just curled up into a ball.
I got bruises all over my back from where the pointed edge of his shoe hit me over and over again.
I thank God every day that Paige was at her friend’s house at the time. ”
My vision turns white with rage. She swallows and continues.
“He didn’t apologize right away. It took me threatening to leave and take Paige with me before he said it was the biggest mistake of his life and he hated himself and he loved me, loved us both.
I wanted to believe him. Really, I did. I didn’t want to break up the family—for Paige’s sake.
But, deep down, I knew I’d just seen a side of him he’d kept under wraps through our entire relationship.
It had always been there in the background, an undercurrent of aggression beneath his composure. ”
I bite my lip. “He did it again?”
“A week later. We were both due to go to Paige’s school for a meeting but he didn’t show.
When he came home later that night, I snapped at him.
His face just went blank, as if in that moment he felt no emotion at all.
He came at me so fast I couldn’t get out of the way, then he punched me repeatedly in the stomach.
I collapsed onto the floor; I couldn’t breathe.
He just walked out of the house again and left me there. I honestly thought I was going to die.”
A tear rolls down her cheek, making my muscles twitch to lean forward and wipe it away.
“I knew in that moment, there was no longer any love in our marriage. To be honest, I’m not sure there ever was.
He was my first steady boyfriend and the father of my child.
Looking back, we never stayed up late just talking about stuff; we never had a playful relationship.
He was always in control of what we did, even down to the fertility treatments I underwent when we were trying for a baby.
He wasn’t particularly romantic—he never gave me gifts or flowers—but I never needed for anything.
There was always money. Sometimes, there was a lot of it.
I just thought he was stoic. Reliable. But I don’t think I loved him towards the end. I stayed for Paige.”
“Was he absent a lot?”
She’s quiet for a few moments.
“Yes. He worked away from home all the time, traveling, but he usually had the courtesy to tell me when he’d be back.”
My bones itch with hatred for the man. If this gorgeous, sexy, sassy, funny woman was my wife, I’d struggle to leave her side. I absolutely would not have laid a hand on her to harm, only to make her feel good.
“What did he do for work?”
“He’s head of risk and export control for a freight company. But that’s all I know. His work was pretty boring—lots of acronyms I just tuned out.”
“Does Paige know? About what her father did to you?”
Another tear.
“No. And I never want her to know. Even though he barely has any time for her, she thinks the world of him.”
“Do you think he would ever do the same to her?”
Her body goes rigid, her eyes wide.
“God, I would kill him,” she says in a raw whisper.
You and me fucking both and I’ve barely even met the girl.
“How do you feel now? Are you afraid of him?”
She’s quiet for a few long moments.
“I feel free for the first time since I met him, but I don’t feel safe. I never used to be afraid of him, but now that I know what he’s capable of and that he really doesn’t care a dime if I die, yes. I’m afraid of him.”
I move over her, taking care not to crowd her after she’s just admitted to being abused by the closest man in her life. My left arm comes down by her right shoulder so she’s beneath me and I’m blocking her view of the ceiling. She has no choice but to look me right in the eye.
“You’re safe now.” My voice is deep with conviction. “While you’re here with me, no one is going to lay a damn finger on you.”
She smiles but there’s a sadness to it.
“I appreciate that August, but I’m only here with you for a week.”
My tone takes a dive. “I can make sure no man in New York ever breathes a word to your face if you don’t want them to. Just say the word.”
Her eyelids flutter, then she laughs. “Thanks, but even I know that’s not possible. You can’t keep tabs on every man in New York.”
I lean into her a touch and speak softly. “That’s where you’re wrong.”
She locks her gaze onto mine as if she’s only now taking me seriously. Then her eyes narrow like she’s studying me. A breath passes and she lifts up onto her elbows, bringing her face dangerously close to mine.
“We should go down to breakfast before people start wondering where we are.”
My gaze falls to her lips as she speaks. I don’t want to go to breakfast. I want to yank down the covers and spread her bare legs. I want to settle between them, kiss the life out of her sarcastic mouth and make her feel so good she forgets she was ever married.
But we made a fucking deal. A trade. Her presence in return for my money. No sex, no favors. Just a straightforward business transaction I now appreciate she was utterly desperate for.
She doesn’t want me. She wants my money. And she wants to earn it fair and square.
I sit back on my side of the bed and watch as she walks into the bathroom and closes the door. Then, even though she’s out of sight, she’s filling every corner of my head.
When I hear steaming hot water from the shower beating down, I snatch up my phone and place a call. A run didn’t help, and that was before I knew about the shit this inconceivably strong woman has been through.
I still want her. If anything I want her more. I also know that she deserves some peace and just the chance to make some honest money.
I won’t be sleeping with Erin Applebaum, so I have to get rid of this burning need some other way.