Chapter 14
fourteen
. . .
Meghan
I slumped against my penthouse door after closing it on a long, tiring week. I wanted a glass of wine and a hot bath. But my feet felt rooted to the floor, weighed down by the enormity of the emotional shitstorm I found myself in.
Jesus fucking Christ. In the span of a week, my life had become a goddamn soap opera. I’d gone from secretly pining for Wick while fucking Marco on the side to...what? Having a threesome with them at my brother’s wedding? Chasing Wick down like a desperate schoolgirl only to have him shut me out yet again?
A harsh laugh rose up in my throat, edged with a tinge of hysteria. Some part of me still couldn’t believe it was real.
God, the way Wick had touched me, like he wanted to map every inch of my skin. The darkness in Marco’s eyes as he’d watched Wick devour me, the wicked curl of his lips before he kissed Wick. It had been everything I’d ever fantasized about and more, a forbidden desire made flesh.
But afterwards, all I’d felt was shame and the crushing weight of rejection. Wick had made it painfully clear that whatever had happened between us was a mistake. That he regretted it, regretted me.
And Marco...fuck, I didn’t even know what to feel about him. He’d been the one pushing for more, goading Wick into acting on the attraction simmering between us. But when I’d turned to him for comfort in the wake of Wick’s dismissal, he’d turned me away too.
I screwed my eyes shut against the hot prick of tears. I was tired of crying over men who didn’t want me, who only saw me as a convenient warm body or a regrettable mistake. Was I really so impossible to love, to commit to? So easy to toss aside once the thrill of the chase was gone?
A soft knock at the door pulled me out of my downward spiral. When I swung the door open, I came face-to-face with the last person I expected to see on the other side.
Wick looked like hell, his usually pristine suit rumpled and his hair standing on end. But it was his eyes that made my breath catch. A kaleidoscope of emotions swirled in their depths. Anguish, resolve, and...longing?
“Wick.” My voice cracked on his name. “What are you doing here?”
His Adam’s apple bobbed. “I needed to see you, Meg. To talk to you. About...everything.”
“I thought you said there was nothing to talk about. That it was a mistake.”
Pain flashed across his face. He leaned against the doorframe as if sagging under its weight. “I know what I said. And I’m sorry, Meg. I’m so fucking sorry. I never meant to hurt you.”
He moved closer, his presence seeming filling the doorway. I fought the urge to retreat. But I held my ground, tilting my chin up to meet his gaze head-on. “Then why did you? Why push me away, Wick? Especially after...after what happened between us.” My cheeks heated at the memory, my core clenching with a phantom ache.
He dragged a hand over his face. “Because I’m a fucking coward, Meg. Because I’ve been fighting this thing between us for so long, telling myself it could never happen. That it wasn’t real.”
“And now? What’s changed?”
He met my gaze, his eyes blazing with an intensity that stole my breath. “Everything. I can’t keep lying to myself anymore. I can’t keep pretending that I don’t want you, that I haven’t always wanted you.”
A small, broken sound escaped me. “Wick...”
He closed the distance between us in one stride, his hands coming up to frame my face. The warmth of his palms against my skin sent a shiver racing down my spine, my body instantly attuned to his touch.
“I know I’ve fucked this up, Meg. I know I’ve hurt you. But I’m done running. I’m done hiding from this, from us.” He brushed his thumb over my cheekbone with aching tenderness. I leaned into his touch, my eyes fluttering shut as I breathed him in. The crisp scent of his cologne, the underlying musk of his skin. It smelled like home.
His stroking paused, and when I opened my eyes, a line had appeared between his brows. He was quiet for a moment—seemingly weighing his words—before he finally spoke. “I loved Beth,” he said.
Fucking Beth. I’d love to punch that cunt .
“I wanted to marry her, to build a life with her. But even when I was with her, some part of me was holding back. Stealing glances at you when I thought no one was looking.”
“I’m sorry, what?”
His lips quirked in a rueful smile. “I’m saying that maybe everything that went down with Beth happened for a reason. Perhaps it was the universe’s way of telling me that I was meant to be with someone else.”
Tears spilled down my cheeks and my breath hitched. “You mean...me?”
He nodded, his own eyes shimmering. “You, Meg. It’s always been you. I was just too afraid to admit it.”
And then he was kissing me, his mouth covering mine with a fierce urgency. I gasped, my hands clutching his shirt as I pulled him closer, desperate to feel every hard inch of him against me. I tasted the faint bite of whiskey on his breath, the salt of my own tears. But beneath it all was the essence of him, the flavor I’d craved for so long.
We stumbled backwards into the penthouse, our mouths fused and our hands grasping at each other’s clothes. Wick kicked the door shut behind him, the slam echoing through the cavernous space. I barely noticed, too consumed by the heat of his touch, the delicious friction of his body against mine.
He walked me backwards until my calves hit the edge of the couch. I let him lower me onto the plush cushions, my thighs falling open to cradle his hips between them. He broke the kiss to run his lips down the column of my throat, his teeth scraping the sensitive skin. I arched into him, my fingers tangling in his hair as I held him close .
Every nerve ending in my body was on fire. “Wick,” I gasped, my voice thin and needy. “Please...”
He lifted his head, his eyes clouded with desire. “Tell me what you need, Meg. Anything, everything. It’s yours.”
This was it. The moment I’d been dreaming of. And now that it was here, now that he was offering himself up to me, I couldn’t find the words.
So I showed him instead.
I reached for the hem of his shirt, tugging it from his waistband. He caught on quickly, helping me strip it off and toss it aside. And then his hands were on me again, gliding over my ribs to cup my breasts through the thin fabric of my tank top.
I gasped and my nipples pebbled against his palms. He groaned low in his throat, his hips rocking against mine in a delicious grind that made my toes curl. His hard length pressed against my core, separated only by the barrier of our clothes.
“Off,” I panted, tugging at his belt. “I need to feel you.”
He huffed a laugh against my skin, his fingers making quick work of his fly. “So greedy,” he teased, but the rough edge in his voice told me he was just as desperate as I was.
He stood just long enough to shuck his pants and boxer briefs. And then he was back on me, his weight delicious as he settled between my thighs. I hooked my legs around his hips, using the leverage to grind against him. We both moaned at the contact, his hard length sliding against my damp core. Even through the barrier of my leggings, I could feel the heat of him, the promise of what was to come.
“Wick,” I breathed, scratching my nails over his back. “I need you inside me. Now.”
He swore under his breath, his hips jerking against mine. “ Fuck, Meg. You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to hear you say that.”
He reached between us, hooking his fingers in the waistband of my leggings. I lifted my hips to help him tug them down, along with my soaked panties. The cool air kissed my heated flesh, making me shiver.
Then his hand was on me, his fingers sliding through my slick folds. I cried out, canting my hips, desperate for more pressure. He groaned, his eyes slamming shut as he savored the slippery heat of my drenched, swollen pussy. “Christ.” His fingers circled my clit in a maddening tease. “Is this all for me, Meg? All because of me?”
“Yes.” My head thrashed on the cushions. “Wick, please...”
He slid one long finger inside me, then two, pumping slowly. I clenched around him, my inner muscles fluttering. It felt good, so fucking good, but it wasn’t enough. I needed more, needed all of him. As if reading my mind, he withdrew his fingers and lined himself up at my entrance. The blunt head of his cock nudged against my molten core, making me whimper with anticipation.
He pushed inside, inch by glorious inch, stretching me, filling me in a way I’d only ever dreamed of. I threw my head back on a gasp, my fingernails digging into his shoulders as I tried to adjust to the sheer size of him.
“Fuck,” he gritted out, his face tight with restraint. “You feel incredible, Meg. So tight, so perfect.”
He bottomed out inside me, his hips flush against my ass. For a moment we just stayed like that, locked together, savoring the feeling of being one. Finally coming together after years of denial and longing.
And then he started to move. His hips rocked in a slow grind that made fireworks explode behind my eyelids. I met him thrust for thrust, my body rising to his as a familiar tingling pressure built in my belly.
He kissed me again, his tongue probing deep to tangle with mine. His pulse thrummed beneath my fingertips. It was intoxicating, overwhelming.
He picked up the pace, thrusting harder, faster. The wet slap of skin on skin filled the air, punctuated by our gasps and moans. I felt my orgasm building, tension pooling at the base of my spine. “Wick,” I panted. “I’m gonna come.”
“Come for me, Meg.” He reached between us to find my clit. “Come on my cock.” His fingers circled the sensitive nub, applying just the right amount of pressure. And then I was flying, my body bowing off the couch as my orgasm crashed over me in waves of blinding pleasure.
Wick grunted, his hips stuttering as my inner muscles clenched and fluttered around him. It pushed him over the edge. His face contorted in ecstasy as he spilled himself inside me.
We collapsed in a tangle of sweaty limbs, both struggling to catch our breath. Wick buried his face in the crook of my neck, his lips caressing my pulse point. For a long time, we just held each other, savoring the afterglow. My mind was still trying to process the enormity of what had just happened. Of what it meant.
As I lay in Wick’s arms, my body sated and my heart full, I felt something was missing. There was a Marco-shaped hole in my soul that no amount of love from Wick could completely fill.
I thought back to all the moments Marco and I had shared—the laughter, the sex, the effortless understanding that passed between us without needing words. For the past year, he had been a safe space to fall into that was mine and mine alone. And now he’d stepped aside so that Wick and I could have our chance at happiness.
It was killing me that Marco was hurting because of me. I wanted to go to him, to take him in my arms and tell him that I needed him, that Wick and I weren’t complete without him. But I couldn’t, not when things with Wick were so new and fragile. We needed time to figure out what this was between us, to explore our feelings without the added complication of Marco’s presence.
I pushed down the discomfort in my chest and snuggled closer to Wick’s warm, solid body. He folded me into his arms immediately. I tilted my head back to study his face—the dark sweep of his lashes against his cheekbones, the strong line of his jaw dusted with stubble. Even in sleep he was devastatingly handsome.
My heart swelled with affection and gratitude. I couldn’t believe that this incredible man had chosen me. It couldn’t have been easy for him, letting me see behind the carefully constructed walls he used to keep the world at bay.
Wick stirred, his eyes blinking open to meet mine. A slow, sleepy smile spread across his face. “Hey, you.”
“Hey yourself.” I stroked the curve of his cheekbone with my fingertip. “How are you feeling?”
He turned his head and pressed a kiss into my palm. “Happy. Nervous. Overwhelmed in the best possible way.”
I smiled. “Me too. I can’t believe this is really happening.”
“Believe it, Meg.”