2. Fleur
2
FLEUR
I didn’t leave his house for three days—and neither did he.
All I had were the clothes I’d arrived in, which had been thrown in the trash, so I wore his boxers and t-shirts, lying with him on the couch while he watched TV, sleeping all day in bed because it didn’t matter how much I slept at night, I was always tired. I didn’t get into the tub and knew I never would again.
Bastien was always there, his hands on me, his kisses on my neck and collarbone, his warmth a beacon of sunshine in my winter of misery, but he was different. Quiet and distant, visibly scarred. He’d never been a man of many words, but now, he didn’t say anything at all.
I knew I needed to move my stuff from my apartment because I couldn’t keep living like this, wearing clothes that were at least five sizes too big. I only had a couple more things to pack up, but that shouldn’t take more than an hour or two. It seemed crazy to think about packing when I’d literally died a few days ago, but sitting around the house without my things wasn’t a long-term solution.
We’d just finished lunch, sitting across from each other at the table. I noticed Bastien wasn’t working out in the morning like he usually did. He seemed to have completely stopped his life, like I did. He wasn’t on his phone either, like he’d abandoned all of his responsibilities to be with me night and day. But he still wasn’t really there with me.
“I need to go to my apartment,” I said. “I can’t keep wearing your clothes, as comfy as they are.”
His eyes were on me until the moment I said that. Then they darted away, focused on the view again. “I get it.”
I had no other choice but to show up in Bastien’s sweatpants and one of his sweatshirts. All I had were my shoes. I waited for him to say something more, offer to come with me or call his guys to move my stuff, but he did none of those things.
He just wasn’t the same, and I didn’t like that. “Can your guys still move my stuff, or…?”
His eyes came right back to me as quickly as they’d darted away, but now a stillness gripped his entire body, a tightness in his muscles and his tendons. His eyes hardened, his eyebrows furrowed, and despite how stern he looked, he seemed truly present. “You still want to live with me?”
“Of course I do.” Nothing had changed between us. My feelings for him were still a bonfire of emotion. If anything, I wanted to live with him even more and never wanted to set foot in that apartment again.
His stare remained locked on mine, and it was the first time he really looked at me, at least in the way he used to.
“Unless you don’t want me to?—”
“Of course I do.” He swallowed like there was emotion in his throat he had to beat down. His eyes were packed with intensity and desperation and heat so hot I could feel it across the table. “I wasn’t sure if that was something you still wanted.”
“Why wouldn’t I?” I blurted, having no idea why he’d made that assumption.
His stare continued, but the sharpness of it went dull and his presence started to recede once again. It was the only time I’d witnessed him withdraw rather than push forward, to make his presence small rather than command the entire room.
“This is why you’ve been so distant…”
His eyes dropped momentarily as he shifted his jaw, as if debating with himself whether he should speak further. “I’ve been waiting for you to leave me. Waiting for the shock to fade and a new fear to replace it.”
His words hurt me like a paper cut on my heart.
“I should just shut my fucking mouth right now. But you were right to leave me. As long as you live in my world, you’ll always be a part of it, which means you could be a victim of it…as we just learned.” He looked away. “You were right to want a law-abiding citizen with a nine-to-five. You were right to fucking run from me.” He swallowed and let out a sigh. “If I were a better man, I would do the right thing and walk away…but I fucking can’t.” His eyes watered momentarily. “I can’t fucking do it.”
“I’m not leaving, Bastien.”
His eyes remained elsewhere, the moisture still coating them. He had better control of his emotions than others because he could fight the tears before they even had a chance to truly form. But his fingers tightened into a fist on the table, and he clenched them.
“It wasn’t your fault. Adrien is the only one to blame.”
His eyes didn’t find mine again, glued to the table, the restraint visible in the tightness of his body.
“If I’d never met you, I’d be dead right now.” Oscar would have taken me, and Adrien would have had no way to get me back. “You were the one who found Oscar. You were the one who got my location before it was too late. You were the one who dug me out of the ground and brought me back to life.”
He closed his eyes for a second, flinching at the sting of my words.
“Even if you tried to leave me, I wouldn’t let you.”
His eyes came back to mine, still angry and broken but steeped in emotion.
“Because I never want to be apart from you.” This had all happened so fast, an underwater riptide that had pulled us far out to sea. The moment our eyes met, we were taken by the current, and I drowned in his blue eyes. This wasn’t the kind of relationship I’d wanted and not when I’d wanted it to happen—but that was done now. My heart had planted roots in his earth, and the sharpest ax couldn’t cut me down. I wanted to be with him always, for the rest of my life, for better or worse.
He stared at me for a long time, seconds that turned into a full minute. The pain that throbbed in his eyes slowly faded, the tears that had coated his eyes dried out within a single blink. But the emotion still burned on the surface, poignant and motionless like a winter fog. “Let’s get your stuff, sweetheart.”
It was my first time back in that apartment, and I was glad it would be my last.
I would face a penalty for breaking my year-long lease, but I didn’t give a damn. Like hell would I ever be able to sleep in that apartment again. I had good memories with Bastien, because we’d slept together for the first time in my bed, because we’d shared a pizza at my dining table one evening, fucked on the couch when he stopped by for a quick hookup. But that wasn’t enough to make me want to stay, not when I could be with Bastien every day.
The boxes were still everywhere, some tipped over from when the men had broken in and pushed them aside. I only had a few essentials left, some of my clothes and shoes and other accessories I used every day.
I stepped into my bedroom and looked at the bed. I still remembered the sound of their footsteps, the way I thought it was Bastien, until I realized too late that it wasn’t. The flashbacks were quick, the cold of the tile against my cheek, the darkness from the coffin.
Even when he stood behind me, he recognized my unease. “I’m here, sweetheart.”
I looked at the rumpled sheets then the closet before I released a sigh. “I know. Just need to grab a couple more things…” I opened the door and got to work, knowing the quicker I finished the task, the quicker I could leave.
Bastien stepped into the other room and called his guys to come by.
I threw the rest of my stuff in a suitcase, the items I used on an everyday basis so they would be easier to retrieve once we returned to his house.
Bastien stacked up the boxes near the doorway so the guys would have an easier time getting them out of the apartment when they arrived. When he had nothing else to do, he took a seat at the kitchen table and lit up a cigar, not caring about his manners since we were leaving the apartment for good in the next hour.
Twenty minutes later, the guys arrived and started to carry the boxes away.
Instead of letting his guys do all the work, he grabbed a box and carried it down too, the cigar still between his lips.
I finished my suitcase then rolled it toward the front door, a couple more boxes stacked there, waiting to be carried out. I still had things at Adrien’s house, items that had been too big or too valuable to move when I’d stormed out. My intention had been to go back and get them at some point, but that opportunity had never come.
Now, I would send Bastien to retrieve it for me so I wouldn’t have to look at that son of a bitch.
The guys took the last of the boxes, and Bastien grabbed the suitcase.
“Anything else?” Bastien asked.
I shook my head. “Everything else came with the apartment.”
“Alright.” Instead of rolling the suitcase across the floor, he carried it by the handle. We took the stairs to the bottom floor and then stepped onto the street. My things seemed to have been packed in another car that had already driven off because there was nothing in Bastien’s SUV except the suitcase he put in the back.
The car pulled away from the curb, and I looked at my apartment for the last time.
It was a decent place in a good spot, my shelter after I left my husband and stepped into a life of insecurity and isolation. Despite what had happened that night, I would always have love for it, because it was where I started over…even though I had been so fucking scared to do it. The rage and sting of betrayal had pushed me to leave Adrien, and the pride and stubbornness were what had kept me away. That apartment had never been home, but a stepping-stone to this moment, to the man beside me—home.
He had an enormous closet and only used a fraction of it. He was a simple man and a creature of habit, so his wardrobe was a couple pairs of jeans, some t-shirts, and long-sleeved shirts. All dark colors, with the exception of a few lighter grays. He owned one sweater and two jackets. That was it.
Instead of collecting expensive watches like Adrien, he seemed to collect guns. He didn’t appear to collect cars either because he had a driver in a black SUV take him everywhere. The only luxury he really seemed to care about was his estate, which was probably worth a number I couldn’t even write out correctly.
I spent the day hanging my clothes in the closet and organizing my stuff, wanting to get rid of the boxes that filled his rooms as quickly as possible. There was plenty of space, but they were still an eyesore that would drive Gerard crazy.
I put all my cosmetics in the drawers of his large bathroom. I had plenty of counter space for all my things, the mirrors going all the way to the ceiling and outlined in gold accents. I felt like a princess in a palace, rescued by a handsome prince who still seemed too good to be true.
Bastien spent that time at his desk, working on his laptop and firing off texts on his phone. He rarely made phone calls. I’d only seen him make a handful of calls since I’d known him. He had the ability to run his empire in utter silence.
It’d been five days since I died. It took that long to start to feel normal again. The fatigue had finally passed, and I wondered if I’d been so tired because my brain hadn’t recovered from the lack of oxygen…for however long I’d been dead. It might have only been a minute or two, but that was long enough to do enough damage to affect me like this.
I didn’t suffer from nightmares, but I suspected that was because Bastien was there beside me, my dream catcher, a beast that guarded my unconscious mind from unwanted visitors.
I felt so safe with him that if he hadn’t asked me to live with him, I might have asked him instead. “Babe?”
He looked up from his laptop right away, his eyes locked on mine with the attention of a soldier when addressed by his commander. The nickname didn’t make him grin like I’d thought it would. He’d stopped being distant with me, but he was still emotionally mauled by what had happened. I was the one who had died, but I pitied him for having to see it. To pull my body out of the cold water then do his best to bring me back.
“You don’t have to stay with me.” He hadn’t left my side in almost a week. He didn’t have a schedule like the rest of the world, but I knew there had been days when we didn’t see each other because he was so busy with work. He’d never been absent from his obligations for this long. “I know you have work to do.”
He studied me as he searched for the confirmation in my face.
“I’ll be okay.” I felt safe in his palace next to the Seine. Whenever the anxiety would come for me, I would look to the Eiffel Tower for direction like it was the North Star and I was a sailor lost at sea. “Life goes on.”
He left the desk and came toward me, wearing only his sweatpants and nothing else, hard and chiseled and tatted, a fine piece of man that I got to see every single day. He cupped my face and dug his hand deep into my hair as he tilted my chin up to look at him. “Life goes on for everyone else, but not for me, not when my life is bound to yours.”
The hardest and most dangerous man I’d ever met could be the gentlest and most romantic. “It’s okay, Bastien.” I held on to his forearms as his heat transferred into me like flames from the hearth.
“Luca has been covering for me.”
“But Luca isn’t you.” I wanted him there with me always, but I would never weaponize my pain to manipulate him into staying. “Really, it’s okay. You’ve given me enough of your time.”
“I’ve been here because I wanted to be—not out of obligation.” He tilted his head slightly as he looked at me. “Because I’ve needed this time as much as you have.” He brushed my cheek with his thumb. “I’ve seen some bad things. Done worse things. But that was the single most horrifying moment of my life.”
I tightened my fingers on his forearms. “I know.”
He stared at my lips before he dipped his head and kissed me, slow and soft, giving me his full lips before a bit of tongue, kissing me with heat for the first time since Oscar had taken me. But then he pulled away, his blue eyes looking hard into mine. “I’ll go back tomorrow—if you’re sure.”
“I’m sure.”
“You’re safe here. No one can get into this house without a wrecking ball.”
“I’m not scared. Not anymore.” I wasn’t scared someone would take me or hurt me. I wasn’t scared that Bastien would sneak around behind my back and break my heart. I wasn’t scared of anything—not when he was mine.
A slight smile moved on to his lips, but it was faint, so faint it was almost lifeless. “Attagirl.” He kissed me again, cradling my face to his as he pulled me in, kissing me nice and slow, giving me his lips and his breaths and a bit of his tongue.
The frost in my fingertips melted at his touch, and my heart started to beat again, pounding with the vitality that he breathed into me when he brought me back to life. My hands felt my favorite feature, his big and hard chest, feeling the surge of heat that burned from the muscles underneath his flesh.
His arm circled my waist and squeezed me to him tight, his neck bent down to meet my kiss. Our mouths moved together in a dance we’d practiced many times, but it still felt brand-new, the touches between us electric.
His hand moved to my ass underneath the baggy shirt I wore, and he squeezed both cheeks in a single hand as he gave a quiet moan into my mouth, like he desired me with a bottomless depth.
There wasn’t a single time we were together when we hadn’t ended up in bed together for sex except these last five days. I’d been in too much shock to desire him, and he’d seemed to feel the same way. But once he knew I was okay, doing better, at least, he came alive like he’d been suppressing his desire this entire time.
He lifted me and carried me into the bedroom, laying me on the bed that Gerard had made while we were at my apartment. Bastien pulled off my underwear and didn’t care that I hadn’t shaved in a couple of days, my mind distracted by the past that haunted me in the present. He dropped his bottoms then moved on top of me, helping me get the shirt over my head so my warm tits could feel the cold air.
He helped himself between my thighs, his arms anchored behind my knees as he towered over me.
His chest was above me like the sky, his hard stomach tight and clenched as he worked his core. I grabbed on to his big-ass bicep with one of my hands while I planted the other against his rock-hard chest, a chest so strong a bullet would bounce off it. “Jesus Christ, you’re so fucking hot.”
His smirk was barely visible because he was so much taller than me, but I saw it when I tilted my head back, moaning when his big dick entered me with the hardness of a steel bar. He entered smoothly through my slickness, able to squeeze into my tightness because I was ready for him at a moment’s notice, watching him walk around the house in just his gray sweatpants low on his hips, seeing the flush of his muscles after he worked out, the tendons that were like spider webs across his skin. He was the single hottest motherfucker I’d ever seen.
He rocked into me nice and slow, his mouth just inches from mine, his warm breaths like a tropical breeze over my skin.
We had been in the midst of a serious conversation just minutes ago, but now I was so red-hot that I was about to hit a threshold I hadn’t known was on the horizon until I was already at the edge of the cliff. “Bastien…” I felt the tendons in his neck, felt the heartbeat in his chest, felt the warmth from his internal furnace. I could come just by looking at the man.
His rocking turned into a pounding, his strokes even and hard, hitting me in the perfect spot on repeat. His skin started to tint and moisten with a sheen of sweat, smelling like a man, and that was a turn-on in itself.
I was already ready to go, but my body halted, extending the buildup for a second longer because it was just so good.
But his breathing turned harsh and irregular, fighting the fire in his dick because he wanted to come inside me. He held off for me, waiting for me to go first, and like the gentleman that he was, he didn’t edge himself, too proud to show a sign of weakness.
I’d been fucking him long enough to know his tells and his moves, to know how he felt even when he tried so hard to hide it.
I let myself go, both of my hands gripping his wrists for something to hold on to, like I was at the top of the tracks on a roller coaster and I was about to go into a drop. When I fell over, my nails were like claws, and I came around his fat dick with a mixture of cries and screams, with tears that burned my eyes before they streaked to my ears. “Bastien…” No man brought me to the heavens the way he did, made me see the stars that the strongest telescope could never detect.
He didn’t wait for me to finish before he let go, unable to hold on to the railing a second longer. He made the jump, his cock thickening a little more inside me before he released, giving his final pumps full of mounds of seed.
I loved watching him come inside me. Just made me want to fuck him again.
He seemed to have the same idea because his dick was still hard when he finished. He started his thrusts again, this time pounding into me hard enough to make the bed shift and the headboard tap lightly against the wall. He fucked me like he’d wanted to fuck me for weeks and months, like he’d spotted me across the bar and eye-fucked me all night before he finally got me back to his house. His desire bled from his pores, and he took me like it was his mission to claim me, to erase my past and own my future.