29. West
CHAPTER 29
WEST
It’s guilt that keeps me rooted to the marble floor.
I hear the sound of her quick steps as she disappeared with tears in her eyes. Tears that I put there, about to spill down her cheeks like she’s the one who’s done something wrong.
I run a hand over my face. I can still taste her on my tongue, feel her warm, willing body beneath my hands, and it’s all I can do to breathe until the overwhelming want recedes.
I’m a fool of a man for not realizing this sooner. For taking her to the Paradise Lost party, and for bringing her downstairs.
Sitting there in her angelic dress. A virgin offering, served up on a platter, for me to use in my war against my cousin. She sat on my lap and watched people have sex, and I’d promised her brother that I would take care of her.
There are so many layers of messed-up to what I’ve been doing.
Kiss me like a woman you’d actually date.
The rush of adrenaline almost made me dizzy. I did exactly what she told me to. Kissed her hard, tasting her mouth, feeling her body mold to mine. Her lips parted, and I brushed against her tongue. Because she’s exactly the kind of woman I’d date.
I touched her like I’ve craved for weeks, finally feeling the luscious curve of her ass and the soft peaks of her tits, and then she tensed.
Froze.
I’d thought she was right there with me. Had felt it in her breathless little moans that sent shockwaves directly to my cock, the way her fingers turned into claws at the nape of my neck.
But I was wrong. Because she froze and I missed all the signs.
She’s been lying for weeks. She lied all through dinner tonight when we spoke about sex. And then I took her to a goddamned sex shop.
Jesus. I bought her sex toys.
Something winds its way around my legs. I look down to meet a pair of yellow eyes and a pink nose. The gray cat headbutts my calf, tail swishing.
“Hello,” I mutter.
I heard from Ernest that Nora has been trying to catch him to take him to the vet. Find out if he belongs to anyone or if he’s just here. Made his way through the fence and found it to his liking.
I bend down slowly. If I can catch him for her, if I can?—
He doesn’t let me pet him. He pads off on quick paws, pausing by the still open French doors to look at me.
“You’re going to find her?” I ask, and great , now I’m talking to a cat.
He looks at me for a second longer before slipping out into the spring night, into darkness and fresh grass and probably more mice than I care to think about.
I look at the bag of vibrators, forgotten on the side table. It’s a mocking shade of pink.
And fucking hell, she told me she wasn’t good at arguing and she wasn’t good at the making up part afterward. I was the one who told her we’d practice it.
I follow the cat out into the gardens.
Lights illuminate the edge of the terrace and down along the pathway to the seaside pool and tennis court. But she’s not there. She’s not by the orchards or at the gazebo. I walk the grounds I know like the back of my hand, the places I’d escape to and play in as a child.
Until there’s only one spot left.
I walk the dock around the open boathouse. There’s a silhouette of a woman sitting at the very edge, next to the lantern that casts a warm glow over the soft waves. They dance around the pillars of the dock, and in the secluded edge of King’s Point, there’s nothing but ocean in front of us.
Any words I might say feel like ash on my tongue. They burn and die before I can get them out.
“I can hear you.” She draws up her knees, rests her arms against them. She looks small against the dark waves. Like she might tumble into them at any point. “Did West send you to stand guard?”
My hand flexes at my side. “I’m not Sam, or Madison, or Miguel.”
“Oh.” Nora rests her forehead against her bent knees. “There’s nowhere I can be alone anymore. I considered leaving Fairhaven, but… that requires inconveniencing at least seven people these days.”
“Don’t think?—”
“I do think,” she says, and her voice comes out fierce. “I do think about those things, and maybe that’s not always wrong.”
“You’re upset.”
“I am, yeah.”
I sit beside her on the edge of the dock. Behind us, the water laps softly against the hull of my sailing boat. “Yeah.”
“Please don’t say whatever you came here to say. I don’t want to hear it. I already know it all.”
“And how do you know what I came here to say?”
Nora turns to, and the look in her eyes guts me. “I’m embarrassed enough.”
“Why are you upset?”
“Because of you,” she says, and takes a deep, shaky breath. “I’m upset because… because… this is a failure of mine. I know that. I’m pathetic, and now you know it too, and it will change everything. Won’t it?”
I stare at her, trying to parse the words.
She laughs a little and runs the back of her hand over her cheek. “I know that it’s weird and strange that I don’t have the experience I should have. Why do you think I lied about it in the first place? You asked me to be honest, and I wasn’t. And now this will change how you think of me.”
“I’m upset, yeah. I’m angry.” My voice comes out hoarse. “But it’s not at you.”
She looks back out at the ocean. “Right.”
“I mean it. The things we’ve done… I took you to hell at that party. The things you saw there? I would never have done that if?—”
“I know that. Of course I know that. Which is exactly why I had to lie. You were already treating me like Rafe’s annoying little sister you had to babysit. And when we made that deal, fake dating in exchange for dating lessons, I knew that if I told you…”
“I would have said no.”
“Yes.” Her eyes meet mine, glittery and proud. “Wouldn’t you?”
The truth is there in the silence between us, and the look on her face is ripping my heart out of my goddamn chest.
“Nora,” I say.
“It’s embarrassing enough as it is, this whole thing. You and me, and now that you know… But the thing is, can you blame me for lying about it? You offered me something I’ve never gotten with a man before. A chance to practice, no expectations, no pressure. You’re the first guy I’ve ever really liked kissing.” She looks back out at the ocean like she wishes it would swallow her whole. “That’s so embarrassing.”
“No.” I move closer, my hip against hers on the dock. “Don’t be embarrassed. Be angry at me, yell at me, do whatever you want. But don’t be embarrassed because of this.”
A tear tracks down her cheek. “Don’t tell me what to feel,” she whispers.
And damn it all, that makes me proud. “You’re right. I won’t. But I will tell you that you’re strong, and smart, and beautiful. There’s nothing wrong with you.” I reach up with my right hand to brush away the tear. Her skin is rosy. From wine, from emotion. It’s terrifying how comfortable I’ve become touching her.
How addicted I am.
“What’s the furthest you’ve ever gone with a guy?”
“Just kissing.” She looks down between us, but she soldiers on. “Making out, you know. One guy put my hand over his jeans when I was a teenager, but that was through… clothes.”
I hate him immediately.
“I want to have sex,” she says. “So I want to keep practicing dating. I want to be in a relationship one day. I’m turning twenty-five in November, and I’ve told myself that I won’t be a virgin then. I won’t?—”
“You’ve given yourself a deadline?”
“Yes.” She nods a little, and there’s fierceness threaded through her voice. “I’ve told you I’m working on all of it. I just need to find someone I like, someone I feel comfortable with.”
She’s killing me. “You want…”
“I want to keep going. We made a deal, Calloway. I need these lessons.”
I brush her hair behind her ear. I need the contact, need her to stay grounded. “This changes everything.”
“It doesn’t change anything.” Her eyes flick between mine. “You told me that I could practice kissing with you. Anywhere, anytime.”
“I did.” My hand slides down, fits to the side of her neck. I can feel her quick pulse.
“Am I a terrible kisser?” It’s a whispered question, nearly lost in the sound of waves beneath us.
“What makes you think that?”
“Now you know just how inexperienced I am. Maybe I’m…”
“You’re not a bad kisser.” The idea is laughable, preposterous, a joke. “Not even close. You’re… no. No.”
“Thanks.”
My fingers flex against her neck, her silky hair tickling them. “I’m not a selfless man, trouble. I didn’t volunteer to help you practice kissing out of the goodness of my heart.”
And that’s the whole problem.
She’s practicing. She’s learning. I’m the one taking advantage of a woman who feels comfortable with me and is learning her own boundaries. She doesn’t like me like that. And I can’t stop getting fucking hard over her.
Even now, I can’t stop touching her.
“Oh.” A small, tentative smile spreads across her lips. “I could go out and try to solve this problem on my own. That’s what I’ve tried to do. But I haven’t had much luck, because I don’t actually… I’m not actually attracted to those men. If you won’t help me, that’s what I’ll have to do. Go on dates again. Maybe I can try to befriend one of the security guards my age. Sam, maybe, or Amos.”
“No.”
“Then help me, West.”
“Help you.” I force the words out through clenched teeth. “I kissed you up at the house, and you froze.”
“I didn’t freeze. It surprised me, but I liked it.” Even in the darkness, I can see the flush that’s creeping up her face. She’s trusting me with this. With the secret of tonight, with her emotions, with telling me she likes kissing me.
The trust of it all makes me feel ten feet tall. I want all of her, all of it. I told her tonight that good sex is always about trust.
Sex with her would be more than good.
But that can’t be my role. I can’t be that much of a bastard.
The rest of it, though… maybe I can help her with that.
“You liked it,” I repeat. “Is that what you want, then? To practice all the things that might happen after a date?”
“Yes. Maybe.” Her words are rushed. “If you’re interested, or even attracted to me. I know you’re probably used to women who are experienced and who don’t need to go slow, but?—”
“Sweetheart.” My thumb smooths over her cheek. “You’ve told me that it stresses you out, when a guy wants you early on, right? Do you want us to pretend that I don’t, or do you want me to be crystal clear about it?”
She blinks quickly, eyelashes long and wet. “Really?”
“Really. I already told you, I’m selfish. Don’t think that you’re asking me for a favor here.”
“I won’t be good at it,” she says. “There’s a real chance I’m going to be terrible at all of it. Whatever we practice. Like I have been so?—”
“No. Don’t finish that thought.”
She smiles a little. “It’s true, isn’t it?”
“Why do you expect yourself to be great at something you’ve never tried before? What kind of unreasonable standard is that?” I want to fit her against me, pull her into my lap. “Don’t worry about that for a second with me. Can you promise me that?”
“Okay. Yeah. I think… I can do that.”
“Good. I’m not judging you. I’m not keeping a scorecard.”
Her lips curve, and the look sends relief flooding through me. “What kind of teacher are you?”
“One who doesn’t believe in grades.” My thumb moves down over her lower lip. Every muscle in my body is locked down tight, and the want that rolls through me is so strong it knocks the wind out of me. “We’ll practice more. At your pace.”
“Thank you,” she breathes, like I’ve bestowed a favor on her. Like I’m not the one who will be begging, and burning, and sinning. “I’m sorry I lied to you about it.”
“I understand why you did.” I’m closer to her now, close enough to see the goose bumps along her arms. “You’ve been so brave.”
Her lips part on a soft sigh. She likes it when I praise her.
I’d suspected, but I asked her tonight, because I had to hear her say it. Wanted to gauge her response. Not every woman wants to be spoken to that way.
Even if I ache to tell her just how sweet she’s being. To use that vibrator between her legs and tell her to be good for me, tell me what she’s feeling. To let her see just how hard she makes me.
I’d told her I didn’t like BDSM, and I don’t. But there’s a dominant aspect to praise that I do like. Always have.
Slow, I remind myself. And hell. That’s where I’m heading.
“I like it. When you praise me,” she whispers. “I meant to tell you that earlier at dinner. But I didn’t.”
“Mhm? You do?”
She nods a little. Eager, wide-eyed. “Yes. It helps me relax. Not think so much about whether I’m doing things right or wrong. Because you tell me.”
“I’m going to keep doing it. Would you like that?”
“Yes.” Her breath is warm against my thumb. “Very much.”
“That’s my girl. I want you to talk to me, just like that. Can you do that for me?”
“Like what?”
“Honestly. If I’m going to touch you…. if you’ll touch me… We have to talk.” I tip her head up. “No more lies.”
“I promise.”
“Good. You did so well tonight. Dinner, sex shop, making out… and then arguing with me. And now making up. Almost like you’re in a relationship.”
Her eyes glitter. “I did, didn’t I?”
“The perfect fake girlfriend,” I say.
A shiver racks through her. I want to warm her. Should bring her inside, but first…
“I want to kiss you.”
Her eyes dip to my mouth for a second. “Why?”
“Because sometimes,” I say, “it’s an easier way to talk.”
Her lips part, and she sways forward another inch.
I touch my lips to hers. She’s warm and soft, and the thought that she’s been fearing she’s bad at this, that something is wrong with her, is devastating. Her mouth relaxes against mine, and she sighs a little when I deepen the kiss.
Beneath us, the waves continue to softly break against the dock. The same way they always do. The same way they always have.
But everything has changed.