Chapter 10 #3
Reaching up, I cup his cheek in my hand, and pull him closer, hoping he sees in me every bit of sincerity I see in him.
“I love you too, Weston. More and more each day.”
The muscles in his face sag in relief, and he leans in, pressing a bruising kiss to my lips, but I push him away, and a look of confusion comes over him.
“You’re going to laugh,” I say, but I’m only met with a smile lighting up his face.
“Tell me.”
I reach out and grab his hand, my fingers finding the warm metal and stroking it softly and feeling the rough edges of the carved seal.
“When you told me you were here for a woman, and I saw the ring, it made me feel a lot of things I wasn’t ready to admit to myself.
” Mischief sparkles in his eyes, but I don’t let him interrupt.
“I didn’t like that there was another woman, no matter how many times I told myself I pitied anyone who had to put up with you. ”
His lips purse as he tries to keep himself from laughing, but I continue.
“I didn’t want to accept that I was jealous you were here for another woman, and clearly you loved her if you were willing to sacrifice everything for her.
It just reminded me of the love I always wanted, that I never thought I would have.
Especially if you still loved her after all this time, enough to know she was still alive. ”
“I only knew she was still alive because you were standing in front of me.” His thumb strokes my cheek, and I lean into his touch. “And I did love her. Do. But never like that. Not the way I love you.”
“I know that now, but back then I didn’t like the way it made me feel.”
He smirks and trails his hand down my neck, settling in the crook and holding me closely. “So you admit you were falling for me way back then, even though you hated me?”
I roll my eyes. “Clearly, I was out of my mind.”
He laughs, a loud, boisterous laugh that rings out in the cavern, his shoulders shaking and jostling my body, reminding me of how deep-seated he still is inside me.
I suck in a gasp, and his hands find my hips, clamping down and shifting me again, enough that I feel him move deep within.
“Oh,” I moan, and he leans down to nip my earlobe.
“Tell me more.”
I swallow harshly, but my mind is blank of anything that might be interesting or entertaining to share with him, especially with his cock still filling me. The life I led back home was monotonous and empty, but here, here it’s full of light and love, and people to spend it with.
I shake my head. “Story time is over. I need you.” Reaching down, my fingers graze over my hips, diving between my thighs until I can feel where we are connected, where his hard length disappears inside of me, and I take advantage.
I press my hand down, rubbing against his flesh and over mine, begging him to move.
“Fuck.” The hiss of his voice followed by his cock firming even more inside me makes my blood pound through my entire body. His fingers wrap around my wrists and lift my hands, setting them on the wall.
“Don’t let go.”
I do as he says, gripping the wall again as he stands straighter, gripping my hips and taking them with him. One hand settles on my low back, and the other on the front of my thigh.
“Weston,” I plead, and he answers quickly, pulling his hips back so he’s almost out, then slamming them back into place. I cry out, loving the delicious friction after having him tease me for so long. Water sloshes over the sides of the wall as he pulls out and slams in again.
“Oh gods,” I cry, and his pace picks up, his motions rougher than before. I can’t control myself as my arms lock into place, pressing my hips harder against him, begging for more.
“That’s it, Lennox. Take what you want, sweetheart.”
I feel every ridge of his cock as he slides in and out of me, but I can’t control the groan that rips through my throat when he tilts my hips, changing the angle so my feet are no longer touching the floor of the pool.
I’m completely at his mercy as he slams into me, and just when I think I can’t handle any more, his fingers find the sensitive spot between my thighs, pressing firm before stroking circles in time with his thrusts.
“Weston!” The pressure builds, and fire licks up my inner thighs, pulsing through my flesh and burning me from the inside out as my core quivers around him.
“Good girl. Squeeze my cock, sweetheart,” he grunts, and I can’t hold it back any longer.
My body explodes, a guttural cry that tangles with his fills the air around us as he pulses inside me.
Heat blooms within as my walls quake, squeezing him with each of the last pumps of his hips that draws the pleasure out even more.
His arms wrap around me, scooping me up and pulling my back flush against his chest just as my limbs go limp, unable to hold myself above the water.
He spins me around, cradling the back of my head and pulling me in close before pressing his forehead to mine. I can barely keep my eyes open, my body still humming from the exertion and consuming emotional confessions.
“You’re perfect,” he whispers, peppering my lips, my chin, my face with kisses. His chest heaves with exertion, and his breaths are hot and heavy on my skin as his hands cradle my head, brushing my damp waves off my face.
“I love you,” he grumbles, and kisses me again, deeper this time, not needing to hear my reply, but I give it to him, anyway.
My eyes flutter open and meet his when he pulls back, just enough that I can see him, but still close enough that I tingle with his proximity.
“I love you too,” I say between my breaths, and a soft smile forms on his lips.
A thumb moves to caress my cheek as his eyes dart between mine. “I don’t know what I did to deserve you, but I’m thankful every fucking day that I don’t have to spend eternity alone. Not anymore.”
Tears prick my eyes, and a lump forms in my throat. “Me too.”
He leans forward and kisses me again, this time, the softest brush makes my chest warm before he pulls back.
“I’m happy you brought me here,” I say. I’m finally able to move my heavy limbs, and wrap my arms around him, grasping the nape of his neck.
He smirks. “I hope you’re happy after how hard you just came.” I roll my eyes and scoff, but he chuckles softly. “I’m glad you came with me. I wanted to show it to you. Although it feels different now, having you here.”
“Why?”
“I came here a lot when I couldn’t sleep, or when things felt hopeless. The magic always helped with that, but having you here, holding you in a place where I felt alone and hopeless so many times, just makes it feel…”
“Feel what?” I ask, swallowing the hard lump forming in my throat.
“Whole. It doesn’t feel empty anymore.”
My lips tip up slightly as we just watch each other, not needing to say anything, letting the feel of our bodies pressed together and our synced breaths do all the talking.
“You know,” he says as he walks forward, pressing my back into the wall for support.
His thumb moves from my cheek to my jaw, stroking and caressing as if I’m the most precious thing he’s ever seen.
“This place always reminds me of something my father used to tell me. Whenever I would feel hopeless, I would come here and look out over the sea, wondering if he was still out there somewhere and if I would ever get back to him. Then I’d hear his voice in my mind, repeating the same phrase over again.
” He chuckles to himself, his gaze breaking away as he remembers his father, whom he clearly cares about, before they rise to meet mine again.
“He used to tell me that light always finds a way, even through the blackest woods.”
My jaw falls open as a gasp rips from my throat.
Weston’s face falls in an instant, his brows bunching together as his arm tightens around me. “What’s wrong?”
My mind reels, and my breaths come in short and stuttered as what he just said rings in my ears.
No, it can’t be.
His brows bunch together and his jaw tightens as he looks me over, waiting for me to say something, but I can’t. His body straightens slightly, the sound of water splashing around us as he becomes more alert, ready to jump in and help me.
“Lennox, are you alright? Did I hurt you?”
I drag my gaze over every curve of his face, the same one I have looked at so many times. In hatred, in friendship, in love. I never saw it, but the moment he uttered those words, the pieces snapped into place, like the puzzles Edmond used to give me.
He has his eyes.
The curve of his jaw.
But other than that, he’s completely different.
He must take after his mother.
I try to muster my voice, but it comes out barely a whisper. “Weston, what is your last name?”
His brow knits in confusion, and he stares at me for a moment, trying to figure out why I am asking before he answers.
“Rowe.”
Sir Rowe’s face flashes before my eyes, the man I called my friend. The man who, since the day he introduced himself to me as my tutor, would never let me use that formal name.
He crouched down to my level, smiled, and told me I was only ever to call him Edmond.
“You’re Edmond’s son,” I whisper in complete disbelief.
Edmond’s son.
Weston is Edmond’s son.
The son I didn’t know existed until the moment that changed the trajectory of my entire life; the moment Edmond told me about Dawnlin.
“What?” Hope fills his voice as his hand wraps around the side of my face.
“He knew I would find you,” I breathe. My eyes dart between his, and I can’t believe how much I overlooked now that I look at him. “How didn’t I see it before?”
His eyes widen, and his mouth parts slightly. “You know my father?”
I nod, and my eyes fill with tears. “Besides my guard and Tila, Edmond was…is my only friend at home.”
He shakes his head in disbelief. “How would you even know him? He was an advisor a long time ago.”
“He wasn’t an advisor. He was my tutor.” His eyes widen in understanding. “I’ve spent every day since my childhood with him. He taught me everything I know.”
His face hardens. “So he’s the one who made you starve yourself on my ship.”
A wet laugh bubbles from my chest. “Unfortunately, yes.”
His hands settle on the top of his head as he looks down at me. “I never thought I’d ever see him again, but I at least wanted to know if he was all right. We didn’t expect that I would never come home.”
“He knew you were coming here?”
“He knew I was trying. He was the one who told me the story.”
I nod slowly. “He’s the one who told me the story too.” I can’t help smiling at the memory now. “That was the day I found out you existed.”
A hint of sadness touches his features. “He didn’t talk about me?”
My smile falls as I see how much that hurts Weston.
I shake my head and soften my voice. “He never talked to me about his family, not until right before I left. He looked sad when he mentioned you, and I thought it was because you had died as a child. I thought it was too painful for him to talk about the family he lost. I just had no idea that he lost you this way.”
His shoulders rise and fall with a heavy sigh. He lowers his hands from where they were wringing his hair, and sinks back into the water, wrapping his arms around my torso once again.
“Besides Rem, my father was all I had. He knew me better than anyone.” His lips curve up at the corners. “Maybe that’s why he sent me you.”
“Do you think he really sent me? Did he really think I would bring you back?”
“If you spent your whole life with him, I think he knows you pretty well. I saw your determination and stubbornness right away, so I have no doubt he believed you would.”
My lip quivers as the feeling of failure washes over me. “But I didn’t. I didn’t bring you home.”
“That was through no fault of your own. Don’t blame yourself for that.
” He smooths the pad of his thumb across my bottom lip, stilling it before holding me again.
“I have no doubt that if he knew you well enough to believe you could find Dawnlin and bring me home...” He pauses, as if thinking to himself.
“He probably also knew that you are the woman for me.”
My chin quivers, but a slow, sad smile spreads over his face. “I’ll never get to thank him for it.”
A traitorous tear falls down my cheek as I whisper softly, “I miss him.”
“I miss him too, sweetheart.” Pressing my back more firmly into the wall, he wraps my legs around his body, then leans forward, resting his chin on my chest. His eyes sparkle as he looks up at me before he murmurs. “Will you tell me stories about him?”
“Of course.” His lips curve at the corners, and he waits quietly, patiently, as memories come flooding back.
Ones I hadn’t thought about in years become so clear and vivid in my mind, so I recount them.
With every story, Weston relaxes, the muscles in his shoulders and face loosening, but his smile stays in place. It’s the happiest I’ve ever seen him.
It wasn’t until the third story about a time I defied Edmond or skipped lessons that the realization hit me. With each story, I’m not only telling him about his father, I’m telling him about me.
I didn’t want to tell him I was worried about us running out of life to reminisce on, or him becoming tired of me, but my fears aren’t warranted. There are so many things I can tell him about, so many stories. There’s more to me than just being the isolated princess of Blackwood.
Hours pass as we sit in the magic-imbued water, sharing stories of our childhood as the storm rages around us. We laugh, I cry, but we never let each other go as I tell him all about the time I got to spend with the father he will never see again.