Chapter 10
Ten
Sabine
His lips are on mine the moment we reach my front door. Desperate, hungry kisses, the intensity sucking the air out of my lungs. My body is trembling so badly that I can’t insert the key into the lock.
“Get back.”
Astor slams his boot into the door, sending it popping on its hinges. We crash into each other again, teeth gnashing, clothes flying. At once, everything comes back in one heady, dizzying rush. I remember the power this man has over me, his ability to obliterate all rational thought. His ability to consume me and become the center of my world with a single kiss.
Together, Astor and I are like two tornadoes colliding into one massive twister, this pulse-pounding, earth-shaking, mind-blowing feeling of being so connected to another human being. A jarring sense that despite everything that’s crumbling around us, it is right.
We are right.
“I love you,” he mutters against my lips, tossing my bra behind us.
“I love you, I love you, I love you . . .”
In nothing but our underwear, Astor palms between my legs as he backs me toward the wall. “My God, baby, you are soaking wet for me. Fuck, Sabine, I missed you so bad. Never again, never again . . .”
We don’t even make it to the bedroom, or hell, the couch.
Astor shoves me against the wall next to the front door, his kisses hot and demanding.
Dangerously possessive.
Dangerously addictive.
I yank down his boxer briefs; he kicks them off.
He grabs my thigh and hikes up my leg. As I wrap it around his waist, he pulls my soaked panties to the side and spears into me with the force of thunder.
I cry out in both pain and pleasure.
Tears roll down both our faces, rolling around our kisses, as he fucks me against the wall with such intensity that a picture falls and shatters next to our feet.
In what feels like a matter of seconds, we come together, screaming each other’s names.
Dizzy with euphoria, I drop my forehead onto his shoulder. He gently wraps a hand around the back of my head and for a moment we stand there, silent, chests heaving, just being.
Together.
Eventually, Astor lowers my leg and it takes a second to find my balance.
Astor guides me to the couch, hand in hand. I drop onto the cushion like dead weight.
“What can I get you?” he asks, standing over me, gloriously naked.
“I have no idea.” I blink up at him.
He grins, then grabs the whiskey and two glasses from the kitchen and settles next to me on the couch.
For a long moment, we stare at each other with small goofy smiles on our faces.
“So.” he says. “It’s hot here.”
Laughter bursts out of me. It feels good to laugh. “I’ve been waiting for that.”
“Jesus, Sabine, why here?” He presses, mocking. “Why choose to move to the devil’s armpit.”
“I needed anything and everything that was not Astor Stone.”
He pours a drink, hands it to me. “I deserve that.”
I sip, lean back against the couch, aware how easily Astor and I have slipped back into “us.” And in that moment, I can’t believe I ever considered not allowing him back into my life.
There is no life without love like this.
“So when did you make contact with Josh the bartender, and what exactly has he been doing for you?” I ask, settling in. Comfortable. Happy.
“The second I found out where you’d moved to, I got on my plane and was here within four hours. I actually passed you on the road once, but I was in a rental car and you didn’t notice me.”
“No Aston Martin rental cars around here, huh.”
“Nope. I’ve never seen so many trucks in my life. And by the way, that Jeep is a rolling death trap.”
“You’re a rolling death trap.” I smirk. “Keep going.”
“So I drove around to familiarize myself with the area and that’s when I found the bar. Somehow I knew you’d eventually find it, too.” He winks. “So I went in and struck up a friendship, you could say. Turns out Josh’s daughter, Katie was born with a cleft lip. Recently, they had to pull her from school because of bullying, and his wife had to quit her job to homeschool Katie. She turned ten a few weeks ago. ”
“That’s terrible.”
“Yeah, it is.”
“But what did he thank you for? And why did you ask how she was doing?”
Astor takes a long sip of his whiskey.
“You paid to have her lip fixed, didn’t you?” I drag a hand through my hair. “Geez, Astor.”
“I did it for you. I couldn’t stand not knowing you were safe. So I made Josh an offer, he accepted, and has been checking on you twice a day.”
“Twice a day? Every day?”
“Yes. It’s not what I wanted, of course, but I had to know you were okay.”
When I don’t speak for a long moment, Astor slides his whiskey on the table and turns his full focus to me.
“Ask…Ask, Sabine. We can’t ignore it. The only way we’re going to work through this is if we communicate about absolutely everything.”
I nod, knowing he’s right.
I set down my drink. “When you’re not dropping letters on my front door, you’re with her, is that correct? Your wife.”
“Yes.”
“How is she? Valerie?”
“Not good. Her health is waning and her mental health is even worse. She doesn't leave the bed most of the time, and doesn’t speak to anyone aside from me.”
“Does she know?”
“About us? No. She’s suffering from short-term amnesia. She remembers everything before the incident and everything after waking up in the hospital. She doesn’t remember anything that happened inside the hangar.”
“Valerie has no idea you were willing to end your life for another woman?”
“No.”
“Will she eventually remember?”
“The doctors aren’t sure. It’s trauma blocking.”
“So is she happy? Or complacent, at least? Does she just think everything’s good?”
“No. Since the incident she’s been having terrible nightmares, calling out for Chloe and asking why.”
“What do you mean, why?”
“It’s almost like she’s calling out to someone, asking whoever that is, why it happened. Maybe she’s asking. I don’t know. But when I ask her, she doesn’t remember the dream or calling out. But she’s definitely obsessing over Chloe’s death, all of a sudden. The doctor said it could be the new drugs she’s on—she’s on a ton of new medications—or it could be that the recent trauma has brought everything back up.” He drags his fingers through his hair. “Every time we speak about Chloe it ends in a fight.”
“Because she thinks her death was an accident and you don’t.”
“Right.”
“Do you think you’ll ever be able to let it go?”
“Let go that I believe my daughter was murdered?”
“Yes.”
“I don’t know. I just wish I knew either way, definitively.”
“Closure.”
“Yeah, I guess. Yeah.”
“You’re much better at communicating, by the way.”
“Thank you. I’ve been working on it. When I realized you were alive, I knew I would get you back, and I knew I needed to be the best man I could when I did. I need to be the man you deserve. I’m working on it.”
“Good. I like it.”
“I like you.”