Chapter 28 #2
Caressing her shoulders are thin straps of satin holding the dress in place.
Molding down her sides to tuck in at an extraordinarily narrow waist, the dress bunches on her lower back and falls out into a long, flowing train that brushes the ground with each step she takes.
He rakes his eyes over the sensuous slit in the gown that runs up the left side of her leg, ending high on her smooth thigh in a peekaboo ruffle.
It makes him want to reach out and touch her.
In the heels he has given her, she is now almost eye to eye with him, and as she stares wordlessly, he allows himself to care.
Reaching forward, he touches her high cheekbone and closes his eyes. When he opens them, he isn’t sure what he expects to see, but he’s surprised enough to confess that his vision has finally cleared, allowing him to see her.
“Gemma,” he whispers.
Dressed in the clothes he laid out for me, I feel an overwhelming need for him to see me. As soon as my name leaves his lips, I take a step closer to him.
“Phillipe,” I breathe softly, my heart fluttering inside my chest.
He flattens his large palm against my cheek and runs his eyes over me as though he is seeing me for the first time.
I can hear music floating around us. It’s a tune that I haven’t heard before, and I want to know what is playing, so I can find it later when I mourn the loss of him.
I know what he is doing. He is telling me goodbye.
When he appeared in the door, I felt my breath catch in the back of my throat at the sight of him. After the intense and emotional morning we shared, I didn’t know what to expect tonight.
Now, as the beautiful melody begins to fill the air while his eyes move over me, I know he has come here to let me go.
He is no less beautiful today than he was the first time I saw him.
In fact, he is almost more so, because now I can see and understand the pain that is etched into every line and crease on his face.
His stunning green eyes framed by those long brown lashes hold mine as he moves closer.
All I can see is the way they looked at me this morning.
He was filled with so much pain and sorrow that I wanted to reach out to soothe him, to calm him, and to love him.
“You’re devastating,” he confesses.
I finally let my eyes connect with his, and I can see the longing there, revealing the emotion he wants to give to me, but I can also see that it is forever trapped behind those haunted eyes.
“Thank you. The dress is beautiful.”
I take a breath in and hold it as he reaches out to place his free hand over my heart.
“It’s not the dress, Gemma.”
I can feel my nipples tightening in response to his silent, hungry perusal. I place my palm over his fingers where his touch weighs heavy against my beating heart.
“The story is over,” he mutters, focused on our joined hands.
He lowers his fingers from my cheek. Gripping his wrist, I pull his hand from my heart and bring it to my lips.
As I kiss his knuckles, I don’t waver. I let every emotion I am feeling surface until he can see just how much I love him.
I can feel the tears gathering in my eyes as he pulls his hand away from me.
Softly and firmly, he says, “Turn around, Gemma.”
Licking my lips, I wonder about what he’s going to do. Undress me? Take me on the floor in this very room, like he did that day weeks ago? I can feel the heat from his body as he steps close behind me. He wraps a large arm around my waist, smoothing his warm palm against my abdomen.
I sigh as his mouth moves to my ear. “‘Méditation’ from Tha?s.”
I try to decipher what he’s saying as his warmth radiates through me, then turn to see him looking at me intently.
“This song used to haunt me every time I heard it. It reminded me of her.”
I follow his gaze to the paintings on display. “The song seems very sad,” I reply softly.
“It used to be…” He pauses. “Until you. Everything is changing, yet it’s still the same…because of you.”
His arm loosens from around my waist, and his warmth leaves me. I look over my shoulder to see him a step away from me. I move to him, but he takes another step back.
Stopping, I tilt my head. “Phillipe?”
His jaw clenches as he glances behind me to the wall.
He is staring at her. This time, I’m not upset by it.
This time, I know what he’s doing. He’s seeking permission.
He’s trying to decide if being with me will somehow betray her, and he’s doing that because he cares.
My heart swells right along with the melody as I reach out again. This time, he takes my hand in his.
“Phillipe?” I say, trying to get through to him. I want him to understand.
His eyes come back to me as I pull him forward and place my palm to his cheek.
“It’s okay,” I tell him. “I love her too.”
With that whispered confession, his binds seem to break.
He grips my waist and tugs me that final inch closer.
The eyes looking down at me are full of anguish and agony as I run my hand across his cheek to his hair.
Threading my fingers through the silky strands, I feel a shiver rack his body as his eyes slide closed.
“Phillipe,” I say. “Stay with me. Look at me.”
Something in my words must break through, because those eyes I love open. They focus, and I can’t help myself from saying exactly what I’m feeling.
“I love you.”
He shakes his head, and for the first time since I met him, he looks unsure and defeated.
“Does that scare you?” I ask.
He doesn’t answer. Instead, he stares down at me. I tighten my hand in his hair and pull. His wicked eyes narrow. Suddenly, I know. I’ve hit it. I’ve been tiptoeing around the issue, and now I know that as soon as my foot falls on the landmine, he is going to explode.
“Are you afraid because I love you?” Licking my lips, I take the final leap. “Or because you love me too?”
That’s when his fingers dig into my waist, and his mouth crashes down onto mine.
He kisses me in a way designed to punish, but I know it isn’t me he’s punishing.
I pull his head forward and rise on my toes to get as close to him as I can.
I hear an anguished groan rumble up through his chest, and I take the painful cry into my mouth.
Closing my eyes, I feel him shaking against me. I rub my body against him, begging him to take what he needs from me.
Hands, firm and strong, move up the curve of my back to the zipper resting between my shoulder blades.
I tremble as he slowly lowers it down my spine.
Lifting his mouth from my swollen lips, he keeps his gaze locked with mine.
He slips his hand inside the dress and parts the fabric from my skin, then nudges it gently so the straps fall from my shoulders.
Releasing my hold from him, I take a step back, lowering my arms. Turning around, I present him with my back, waiting for him to pull the dress off me.
Closing my eyes, I feel the moisture pooling between my thighs, shaking in anticipation of his hands on me, but as I stand there staring up at Chantel, I hear footsteps and then the loud crash of a door slamming shut.
That’s when the full weight of truth falls over me. As I wrap my arms around my waist in an effort not to shatter into a million pieces, I am left standing in the showroom with the only other woman in the world who lost her heart to Phillipe Tibideau.