“HEY.” I reach for the side of Sylvie’s face, tilting her head back so her gaze meets mine. “You’re not responsible for his dying. Were you there?”
She slowly shakes her head, her big blue eyes full of sadness. Regret. “No. If I had been, maybe I could’ve saved him.”
“What the hell happened?”
Sylvie’s expression turns pained. “It’s really weird.”
I cup her cheek. “Tell me.”
“Earl was into…some kinky shit. He was at his apartment in midtown with this guy, a casual friend of mine I met at a party once. He was a friend of Cliff’s.”
Cliff. The dude I thought she was with, who is also gay. I was so jealous of him the day of Whit’s wedding.
“Anyway, they were together, and Earl put on a nude-colored latex suit that covered him literally from head to toe. They were doing…whatever, and it’s believed that Earl started having a panic attack. Those suits are hot, and they cover you everywhere. I’m sure he felt restricted.”
She’s quiet for a moment and I finally tell her, “Go on.”
“Sorry. So he’s freaking out, and according to the guy he was with, he’s freaking out too. Trying to get the suit off of Earl. But he’s sweating so badly, the guy is having a hard time and eventually—Earl went into cardiac arrest and died.”
“Seriously?”
“Would I lie about that?” She shakes her head, my hand dropping away from her face. “It was…a lot. To protect him, we kept the story quiet. Said he was at the apartment alone and had a heart attack. Everyone believed us. His team of lawyers spoke with the EMTs who were first on scene and I think they even paid them off not to say anything. He was a very prominent businessman. The gossip sites and society pages would’ve had a field day discussing the kinky sex life of Earl Wainwright.”
She’s right. Scandalous headlines would’ve been everywhere, discussing his death in a latex suit. It would’ve turned into an epic shitshow.
“What about his kids?”
“They don’t know,” she admits. “We kept it from them too. You’re the only person I’ve told. Well, besides my mother.”
Probably not the best idea, to give Sylvia Lancaster that kind of information. Knowing her, she’ll use it against Sylvie eventually.
I tug Sylvie close to me, rolling over so she’s on her back and I’m on my side, hovering next to her. God, she’s so young. All I want to do is protect her from all the shit she’s been through. Mostly at the hands of her mother.
What the fuck is wrong with that woman? Why does she continue to put Sylvie through so much? All in the name of loving her?
What a crock of shit.
“I hate what your mother has done to you.” I pull Sylvie in, pressing my mouth to her forehead in the lightest kiss. I feel her melt against me, her soft, naked body brushing against mine and just like that, I want her.
I always want her.
“I’m still here though, right? I’m sure she resents me for it.” The bitterness in Sylvie’s voice is telling.
“She really wants to kill you.” It’s not a question. I just need her to confirm it again.
“Yes. I told you the last time we were together alone, I caught her standing over my bed with a pillow in her hands, Spence. A pillow. She wanted to smother me and end it. End me.” Her voice turns shaky. “What did I ever do to her to make her feel that way toward me? I don’t get it. I don’t get her.”
I slip my fingers beneath her chin to tilt her face up to mine, spotting the tears streaking down her cheeks, which breaks my heart. I hate that she’s crying tears over someone who doesn’t deserve them.
“I will protect you from her if it’s the last thing I do for you,” I vow, my tone fierce. I want Sylvie to realize I mean it, because I do.
“I won’t willingly put myself around her anymore, so you don’t have to worry about that,” she says, trying to smile.
I dip my head, kissing her. Tasting the saltiness of her tears, which only incites me further. “Fuck her. I mean it, Syl. She does something, she even says something to you, looks at you, and I will be the one ending her.”
“But…she’s my mother.”
“Your mother, who wants to kill you,” I remind her. “I will never let her get near you. Never.”
She stares at me, her eyes shining, her lips curling into an actual smile this time around. “Are you saying what I think you are?”
“What do you think I’m trying to say?”
“That you want to be with me,” she whispers.
“I already told you I did,” I remind her.
I wonder how long she wants to hide away in the woods when I have to go home. My father called me earlier today, demanding that I come back to the office, but I put him off. That’s going to work for only so long. I’m needed at Donato Enterprises. I have work to do. Things to attend to.
But I love this woman. I want her with me, and for once in her goddamn life, she seems to want me too. For real this time.
“Oh. Right,” she says softly.
“I’ve always wanted to be with you,” I confess. “You’re the one who pushed me away.”
“I was an idiot.”
I crack a smile. “Yeah, you were.”
She scowls. “I’ve changed my ways.”
“Not completely I hope.”
“Oh. So you want me to push you away again?”
“Hell no,” I practically growl, grabbing her by the waist and rolling onto my back, so she’s now lying on top of me. “You’re not going anywhere.”
She laughs and the sound is so joyful, so unexpectedly Sylvie, my heart pangs at the sound. This woman hasn’t known enough happiness in her life.
Maybe I can be the one to give it to her. I want to give her everything.
Every single little thing that could make her life better, I want to be the one who makes it happen.
“You have to leave soon though, don’t you?” A soft sigh leaves her before I can answer. “I’m going to miss you.”
“You said you would come back with me.”
“I don’t know…” The fear in her voice is obvious.
“You really want to stay out here by yourself? With Roland to keep you company?”
“And the cats,” she says at the same moment I lean in and press my mouth to her slender throat. She trembles at the first touch of my lips on her skin. “I’ll be okay without you.”
“Liar.” I glance up to find her watching me. “It’s okay to admit you don’t want me to leave.”
“I don’t want you to leave,” she automatically says.
“And I don’t want you to stay here.” I slide my hand down her side. Around her hip. Until I’m gently cupping her pussy. She’s warm and wet and I’m suddenly dying to sink myself into all that tight heat. “Come home with me.”
I keep having to repeat myself, but I’ve always had to coax Sylvie. I’m used to it.
And I’ve gotten better at it, too.
She frowns despite rocking her hips, leaning in to my touch. I part her lower lips, searching her, thrusting a single finger inside her body. She hisses in a breath. “I want to, but…”
“I’ll do this to you every night. Imagine it.” I withdraw my finger before plunging it back in, and she rocks with me, a soft moan sounding when I crook my finger, hitting that sensitive spot. “The two of us in my bed. Fucking all night.”
“Spence,” she whispers when I increase my pace, my thumb nudging against her clit. “That sounds like a dream.”
“I could make it a reality for you. For us. Just say the word.” I make her come with ease, noting the way her inner walls squeeze around my finger, her entire body shuddering, a soft exhale leaving her as the orgasm washes over her. It’s soft and subtle and the most beautiful thing I’ve ever witnessed.
“Where would I live? At my apartment?” she asks, once the orgasm has passed and she’s sprawled all over me.
I run a hand through her hair, breathing in her delectable scent. “Hell no. Sell that apartment. You don’t want it anyway. And I want you to live with me.”
“My parents won’t like that,” she admits, her lips brushing against my neck.
I shiver. “Fuck your parents. Like they give a damn about you.”
She slides down my body slowly, her mouth blazing a hot, damp path across my skin. “No one gives a damn about me like you, Spence.”
“Don’t ever forget it.” I sink my fingers into her hair, holding her to me when she takes my dick into her mouth and starts to suck. “Fuck, Sylvie. That feels so good.”
She takes me deep, her tongue swirling, her fingers curling around the base. I lift my hips, thrusting between her lips. Withdrawing. Thrusting again. She lifts her gaze, her eyes meeting mine, her mouth full of my cock and from the familiar tingling sensation I feel at the base of my spine, in the depths of my balls, I know it’s not going to be long until I’m coming. Filling her mouth.
“I could do this to you every night,” she says at one point when she withdraws, her lips wet and shiny, her chest rising and falling with her labored breaths.
I’m panting. Dying for her to continue.
Dying to get inside her even more.
I grab hold of her, rolling us over so she’s on her back and I’m rising above her. I grab a condom from the pile she left on her nightstand earlier and tear it open, sheathing myself before I plunge inside her, pushing deep again and again, fucking her fiercely until she’s coming with a shriek, her hands grappling at my back, nails sinking into my skin, making me hiss.
Making me come so fucking hard I almost black out.
We cling to each other, our bodies shaking, our breaths harsh, the scent of sex filling the room, pungent and sweet. I turn my head into her neck, inhaling sharply, her fragrance overwhelming me. Floral and distinctly Sylvie.
“You’re coming home with me for sure,” I tell her firmly, not wanting her to argue.
“You promise?” She giggles when I deliver soft, quick kisses to her throat.
“Yeah. And I’m keeping that promise too.” I lift up, my gaze finding hers. “No more broken promises between us, Syl. When we talk, we mean what we say.”
Her gaze is solemn as she slowly nods. We’re still connected, my cock still inside her body, and this moment, the last few days, feel…huge.
Important.
“I’ll go home with you,” she whispers. “As long as you promise to take care of me.”
“You can take care of your—”
She cuts me off by settling her fingers over my lips, silencing me. “Promise me. I need you.”
I nod, her hand falling away.
“I’ll take care of you.” I kiss her once. Then again, before I confess, “I love you, Sylvie.”
The fucked-up thing is she doesn’t say it back.
She says nothing.
Not a single word.
