16. Sixteen
Five Years Ago
“Is this really our last day in paradise?” I ask, as we walk hand-in-hand along the beach back to the villa after our final incredible dinner.
It was bittersweet and extra special to have Chef and the staff at the little restaurant that has fed us so well these past weeks all come out to wish us well. They have been so kind and taken great care of us and even let me into their kitchen whenever I felt like whipping something up to impress Zander. One playful wok off with the Michelin-starred chef was all it took to gain access to his sacred space as well as earn his blessing to win my man through his stomach as well as his cock. It didn’t hurt that he liked my lobster ceviche, as well. We’ve exchanged contact details, and I hope to keep in touch with them.
“It doesn”t feel like it’s been two weeks, right? It feels like it’s been two days and two years at the same time. I don”t know how time can work like that sometimes,” Zander says, sounding relaxed. He raises our clasped hands over my head and pulls me into his side without letting my hand go, so he has his arm around me now as well.
“I wish we could stay here like this forever,” I say, feeling wistful and nostalgic, knowing that things will inevitably change when we get back home. They have to, just for the sake of normalcy and leaving this delicious slice of paradise and vacation mode for the real world.
God, it will be torture to not sleep in the same bed as Zander. To not wake up next to him. To not have his hands on me or see his gorgeous gray eyes drinking me in every time I turn around. At the very least, we’ll have to figure out how we’ll work long-distance with us living on opposite coasts, and my modeling work taking me all over the world without a real set schedule while he works Monday through Friday seven to seven or something hideous like that.
Should I try to find a job that is more stable and less nomadic? Would he be willing to move, or to travel with me? Should I move back to Atlanta? These are just the surface level questions that pertain to our physical geography, though. What about the deeper questions like, what are we? Are we an official couple? It sure feels like that, saying we belong to each other, that I am his and he is mine, and using words like forever.
It’s a far cry from the no attachments condition and nothing more after the trip that was promised when he invited me to come with him two weeks ago. Those bridges were burned, and those lines crossed too thoroughly to imagine ourselves able to go back to that reality now. I have given in completely. Stopped playing my role. Let him see me fully and unconditionally, and embraced everything he has given me in return.
We spend our last night in paradise slowly making love, the moonlight spilling in through the open windows gilding our bodies in pale light as we whisper secrets and make promises that neither of us is sure we can keep. The sound of the ocean joins our soft moans and the whimpers Zander wrings from me, creating a soundtrack that will forever haunt my memories and remain the most evocative of symphonies. We play with each other, but not in the roles we took when we arrived. Our fingers lace, and our lips twist, chasing one another across the huge bed as I giggle and he growls. We’re relaxed and silly and serious all at once.
He expertly navigates my body, knowing every spot, knowing everything I could want, and delivering before I can think to ask for it. He turns me, positions me, holds me, and applies the right amount of pressure to all the right places, so it’s one orgasm after another bowing my back and keeping me clutching at him. My pleasure continues until I’m sweating, limp, and tear-streaked in his arms, begging him for just one more, because I don”t want him to stop, even if I don”t think I can physically bear it. I don”t know what changes tomorrow holds, and I want all the pleasure he can give me, just in case I have to go without for an extended period of time.
“You’re insatiable,” he murmurs into my neck as his hips still against mine. “You’re shaking. I’m going to break you if I make you come again.”
“Please, Zander,” I whisper, voice hoarse from crying out so many times. “I just want you so damn much.”
He places soft kisses across my face, stilling when his lips are hovering directly over mine. “How can I say no to that when I want you just as badly? One more. Then you’re going to sleep. We have to be up early.”
He stops talking and starts kissing me again. He adjusts our bodies, raising my hips just so, dipping his so he hits me just right on his next stroke, and his skilled fingers begin to lazily circle my overstimulated clit with the softest of caresses, and immediately the orgasm begins to build.
Zander’s kiss grows harder as he feels my body tensing, trembling, my gasps caught by his mouth. I don”t know how his movements can feel so unrushed, lazy even, yet stoke such a fire in me, each slow thrust, in and out, hitting me in every perfect spot to light me up and set me off. Or the way he kisses me with an unhurried grace, the way his tongue can sweep against mine and take exactly what he wants and leave me begging for more.
I didn”t think it was possible for someone to know my body this well, to love it this well, this thoroughly, to give it everything it needs, and so much more. Zander is showing me care, affection, and love, even if he can”t say the word. I don”t expect him to. I won’t make him. This is more than enough for me. More than I ever expected from him. I am satisfied.
I gather the sheets in my fingers, twisting and pulling as that delicious tug starts low in my belly, my muscles growing taught and my lungs freezing as I hold my breath before the orgasm breaks and I lose my fucking mind once again for this man.
This man who once told me no attachments and I had agreed. This man who I once thought was solely a fuckboy with no capacity for caring, but I now know is capable of so much affection and care, it is absolutely staggering. This man who holds me like I’m precious. Who calls me his. Who puts finger-sized bruises on my hips and thighs from the times I need him to fuck me hard, but holds me gently in the comedown and worships me like he wants to keep me forever.
I feel the sheets tear under my fingers, holes ripping straight through the thousand thread count like it’s tissue paper. My voice breaks on the choked sob that is ripped from me as the release barrels through me.
Still, Zander thrusts into my raw, well-used pussy, but his movements are growing erratic, no longer controlled and slow, his hands now gripping my hips as he swells and finds his own release while my muscles clench and pull at him. He growls a feral sound full of manly satisfaction, head thrown back and hips locked tight against mine, the sight one of stark male beauty, the moonlight shining off his sweat-slicked skin, his muscled body tight, trembling, and finally, he collapses over me, panting with effort. I’m more in love with him in this moment than I thought possible.
I wrap my arms and legs around him, pulling him against my own sweaty body and hold him as he comes down from the high. I pepper soft kisses against his face and run my hands soothingly along his back as it rises and falls under my touch, the beat of his heart against my own chest gradually slowing.
“Thank you,” I whisper, feeling my raw throat protest, and know my pussy isn”t the only thing that is feeling the effects of two weeks of sex with Zander Olsen. The man has fully lived up to the rumors. He is truly a legend, an absolute god. Any title that has been bestowed on him is well-deserved, but the one most-fitting is mine. I’m sure we’ll shock everyone when it becomes known that he’s off the market and will be leaving his one-and-done ways behind.
“You’re so perfect,” he says, nuzzling into my neck and huffing a sigh of contentment.
“Shower, then sleep?” I ask, tracing my fingertips through the sweat on his back.
“Yeah, we more than earned it.”
He pulls out of me and I miss the feeling of him filling me up immediately. I follow him out of bed to the bathroom and watch as he disposes of the condom. He’s been so diligent, so safe.
I feel a momentary twinge of panic, thinking of my empty birth control packet in my toiletries bag on the bathroom vanity. I thought I’d grabbed a full pack, but instead grabbed the used one and ran out a few days ago. I’ll switch back as soon as I get home and it will be fine. Missing a few pills won’t be that big of a deal. We only had that one time in the shower when he fucked me bare, when I realized I was completely in love with him, anyway. Otherwise, he’s had a condom at the ready and we’ve been protected. I’m clean, and if he’s that good about protection, I’m pretty sure he is. It won’t hurt to get checked at home, though, just to be sure.
Zander is back in his business casual on the private jet, a silver-gray shirt that does wild things to his eyes, and black slacks this time. He puts me in a spot next to him when we board, holding my hand and making sure I’m comfortable. He strokes my arm and we chat, but I can tell we both feel the strain of leaving the easy island vacation behind and what that will mean for us. There is a tension underlying everything, and it’s hard to ignore. I find myself slipping back into the playful role for him just to relieve some of it, and he seems to appreciate the gesture, but doesn’t fully commit to his side of role-playing that requires him to banter back, to say something wholly inappropriate or suggestive.
About ten hours into the twenty-hour flight, something changes. He moves to a table toward the back of the jet where he pulls out his laptop and cell and starts working, growing quiet, distant, or barking orders on calls that seem to take hours, and I feel like I would be intruding on his workday if I sit near him. I pull out a romance novel to read, turn on my own phone, and catch up on emails, texts, social media, anything to keep me distracted. He stays at it, the crease on his brow growing deeper, and I feel him slipping away from me.
But I’m probably just being paranoid. Maybe this is work mode Zander, and I should get used to him being so focused. He is the CEO of a multi-billion-dollar empire. That must come with a heavy workload and a lot of responsibility. There’s no way the company he runs got where it is without a lot of sacrifices and countless hours of work on his part. He has a business to run and I can be okay with that. I settle back into my seat with that realization, feeling a little more at peace.
The flight crew sets out dinner for us in the small dining area and retreats to their galley space without Zander looking up from his laptop. I look at my phone, which I’ve been mindlessly scrolling through out of boredom. Zander has been working for close to eight hours. I smile and get up, sauntering over to his work area, sliding into the seat next to him, and placing a hand on his chest as I smile up at him.
“It’s been a full workday. Care to join me for dinner? You haven’t taken a break at all and you have to be starving. You barely ate breakfast and skipped lunch completely.”
“It’s fine. I can eat while I work. Have them bring me dinner over here,” he says dismissively, barely looking at me.
I school my features and try not to let the cool tone hurt me. “They’ve already laid everything out in the dining area. Just take a break. You only need a few minutes to eat,” I say with a smile and more patience than I normally would give to someone who spoke to me with such shortness.
“I have too much to catch up on. This is important. I don”t have time to waste, Harlowe.”
I pull back at his harsh tone, his use of my full name that smacks of strangeness after hearing him call me his preferred nicknames, and the insinuation that I am not worth his time now.
“It’s just dinner, Zander. I’m not asking you to put your laptop away and pay attention to me for the remainder of our flight or anything. The least you could do is have dinner with me for ten minutes if this is how you want to spend the next few hours.” My own voice is hot to his cold, my temper rising at the feeling of being brushed off and ignored so completely for hours on end after having had his undivided attention for two weeks straight.
“It’s just ten minutes to you, but I’m working on a deal that could make my company millions, so I’m sorry if my priorities offend your sensibilities. I’ll take my dinner over here. I don”t care what you do. Don”t make more of this than it is. It’ll be easier when we get back and go our separate ways.”
I drop my hand from his arm and pull away like he’s slapped me. I feel my mouth working to form words, to make sounds, but nothing comes out, and I’m fighting like hell to keep the sharp prick of tears behind my eyes from manifesting into true waterworks.
“I see,” I finally manage. I swallow hard against the tears and force my emotions down, wanting to be sure I have read this correctly before I react. “Your work is important, I get that. I’ll communicate your wishes to the crew. But Zander,” I start, having to clench my trembling hands together to get my anger, fear, and sadness under control enough to finish. “We’re going to see each other again. When you say we go our separate ways, you mean until we figure out what to do next, right?”
I look up at him as his fingers halt over his keyboard, feeling hope surge in my chest, tentative and new, but built on the back of what we discovered over our two weeks together. This new love, because that is absolutely what it is. This belonging. This owning. This mine and yours and together and forever. That promise of forever is what I hold on to tightest of all right now, when it sounds like he is dismissing me from his life instead of welcoming me into it like I thought he would.
“There is no next for us.” Cold. Final. Heart-wrenching and so devastating, I feel like the jet just took a nosedive, and I lost my stomach somewhere in the freefall.
“What do you mean?” I ask, voice shaking. “I don”t understand.” How did I read this so wrong? I know he’s pulled back today, but not to this level. We made promises. We made forever promises.
He sighs in impatience and pushes the laptop away from him so he can grip the table until his knuckles whiten. His eyes close and a muscle in his jaw flexes once, twice, then stills. When his eyes open again, there is a cold light like dawn on a battlefield that blazes at me and I draw back from that intensity, so unlike the warmth and desire I have come to expect. This light is frozen and looks ready to punish and push me away, and I don”t like what it could precede.
“I told you there would be nothing more after the trip when I invited you to come with me. You agreed to no attachments. It was two weeks of no cares in the world, and I more than delivered on my end of the bargain. Now you have to honor it. When we land, we go our separate ways. There won’t be any repeats. There is nothing after. There is no us once we step off this jet.”
Cold clarity cracks over my head and spreads like an icy flood down my spine, sending tingles through my veins and rushing along my skin. He is trying to go back to that? He thinks he can reach back to what he initially said and that will be it. I’ll have to admit he’s right, I did agree. I knew the score when I joined him and I’ll have to live with it when I leave. But he’s dead wrong, because we burned those bridges together, cans of gasoline and torches in hand, and we can”t go back that way no matter how much he thinks he can. Anger simmers in my veins and it feels a hell of a lot better than the hurt, the betrayal and fucking heartbreak that wants to drown me in utter devastation, so I cling to it.
“You psycho motherfucker,” I seethe. “What was this? Was it all a lie? You made me yours, Zander.” My voice cracks on the admission.
I close my eyes to avoid him seeing just how painful this is for me, how much it hurts that he could be pulling back now, that he could be saying he doesn’t want me after all. I’m not important. I’m nothing more than the pretty face he chose to fuck for two weeks. Turns out that’s all I’m good for, after all, being pretty. He’s extinguishing those lights, taking back the fire and flame he gave me to light the black places in my soul, and returning me to darkness. I open my eyes and feel tears slip down my cheeks.
“You didn”t just fuck me. You claimed a piece of my soul and you gave yourself to me.” I place my hand on my chest and can nearly feel the gaping wound where my heart should be, where the piece of him should be that he has stolen back. “That’s not casual. That’s not anything like no attachments. You tied strings to us that wrapped us together in promises of forever. You made love to me and it was slow and sweet. You came inside of me and said you were ruined, that you wanted this, you wanted me, forever. You gave into this and I don’t care what you are saying now, I know you felt it, too. You can’t deny this, Zander. I won’t let you. You are mine. You want forever with me.”
My words are angry, heartfelt, full of emotion and everything he has made me feel since I realized I was falling for him and he was right there with me. Tears are streaming down my cheeks now and I don”t stop them. If he wants to see what his rules and casual, no attachments will do to me, I’ll let him.
Zander’s storm cloud eyes brighten with what looks like pain and misery, briefly showing me the swirling eddies of ash and smoke of those very rules he had burned to the ground for me before he slams down a shutter of cold indifference over them and a flat gray wasteland is all that stares back at me. He fully turns toward me, his laptop and work forgotten, at least momentarily, and I secretly hope I have managed to pull him back to me, that he will admit he was wrong and he does want forever after all, that we can make this work. My hope is dashed as soon as he begins to speak and his flat eyes match his flat, hard tone.
“Listen to me carefully, Lowe, because I will only say this once. You got a very different version of me on this trip. A version that doesn’t exist in real life. That man can”t leave this jet, so forget about him. Forget anything he told you and don’t expect me to be him. I’m not capable of being what you’re looking for now, outside of that very specific instance in that very specific place. I can’t be what you need or want and you deserve better, so forget about me. And know I’ll do my fucking best to forget about you. Forever is a lie.”
A quiet sob wrenches free from the tight hold I’m using to keep myself together. But my pride keeps me from utterly losing my shit in front of him. So, I use whatever grace I can muster, rise from the seat beside him, and head to the bathroom. In privacy, I give into the silent, gut-wrenching sobs that wrack my whole body, sending tears trailing down my cheeks, and snot coating my face. It takes me a long time before I’m able to pull myself together, and longer to get my puffy eyes and red face under control. When I leave the bathroom, I find a seat with my back to Zander, put earbuds in, and try my fucking best to forget that he is behind me, forgetting all about me before I’m even gone.
When we land in LA, I’m back in a role. This one the beautiful, aloof model who enjoyed a fabulous tropical vacation with a billionaire and expects nothing from him now that it’s done. It may be harder to play than I would have imagined going into the trip, but I somehow manage. I follow Zander off the jet, and he hands me into the waiting car without so much as a kiss on my cheek before he heads back onto the jet so he can return to Atlanta. He doesn’t even turn to look at me once.
Just like that, the trip is over, and Zander Olsen has left my life forever.