Our weekends were filled with an unlimited supply of heated, sensual shagging, and tonight wasn’t an exception. After the tumultuous afternoon I had with my parents, I needed this—needed her—to heal me once more and bring me back to my old self.
I was engrossed in the piano, making sure I was hitting the right keys to Moonriver, when Lucy came over, carrying something in her hand. She had an animated smile, beautifully blushing as she held the chocolate cupcake with whipped dark chocolate topping before me that had a small party candle on it. “Happy birthday!”
I gasped with enthusiasm. “You didn’t!”
Blowing the candle out, I grinned like a silly kid, touched by her gesture. She didn’t have to go through the lengths of throwing me an elaborate party because with her mere cupcake alone it went beyond words. It was the thought that mattered most, and one of the main things I admired about this woman—she could easily afford extravagance, but she always tended to keep it simple. A trait I admired in a woman.
My hunger went past admiration as I pulled her against me, holding her around the hips. “How did you know?” Blake was out of town, and since I wasn’t speaking to my parents at the moment, I had decided not to mention it to anyone. Not even Lucy. So imagine my surprise when she came out with this.
She had one of my dress shirts on, looking demure and yet provokingly enticing as she nervously played with one of the buttons with her thumb and finger. “I hope you don’t mind, but I snooped a bit the first week we started dating.”
Women. Why am I not surprised? “Did you now…” I mused. God, I loved the way she blushed and how her eyes would spark blue fire each time she felt like she was being challenged.
“Certainly. You were in the shower when I took hold of your wallet and pulled out your I.D. I swear it was only for age verification, nothing more.”
“Oh, really?” The magnetic energy that surrounded us as we stared into each other was electrifying. Tantalizing.
“Yes, birthday boy,” she murmured, shyly looking up as her eyes flickered back and forth, as if searching for some truth in me. “The other night, I heard your conversation with Blake on the phone.” She nervously paused. “I don’t particularly know what’s going on with your family, but I just want to let you know that I’m here for you, too. If you need someone’s ear to listen to your grumbles, or to have someone to empathize in your situation, or to have someone to ease some of the stress with, I can be that person for you. ” She took a deep breath while her eyes flashed with momentary fright. “I love you… I have for quite some time now.”
Literally, my heart skittered about at her confession. How often had I held my tongue from speaking those very same words each time I made love to her?
Countless.
And how long had I pined for her to feel the same way?
Way before she had noticed I existed.
Yes, I had been captivated the very second my eyes found her. She possessed me in ways I had never thought possible.
A part of me wanted to tease her and question specifics about when she’d realized she was in love with me, but my emotions were quite too profound to even comprehend anything. “You own my heart, Luce. In every which way—it’s yours.” Cradling her cheek, my mouth delved into her lips, kissing her with such hungered passion that I felt completely and utterly undone.
I was hers.
She pulled back a little, gazing up at me with pure love shining in her depths. “Don’t break my heart,” she murmured with evident vulnerability.
She’d had boyfriends before I had come along, but for some reason, I felt like Lucy was giving me something precious she hadn’t given any man before—something greater than her love—and I felt undone
“I can’t promise you that, but I can guarantee that I will put you above everything else and promise that I will always stay truthful to you.” That was better than a promise any man could deliver to a woman. Promises were meant to be broken. Vows, on the other hand, mostly came from the heart, as did mine.
She merely nodded before giving me a small kiss on the lips. “You’re mine, Mr. Watson.”
Watching her lick her bottom lip, I let out a low, deep growl. One that sounded as if my body was revving up for another round. On the bed. On the piano. The kitchen. I wanted her everywhere with her body spread out, naked, lustful, until I’d had my fill. Until I had finished unleashing this rotted need to experience her fully—body, mind and soul.
It was a madness of nonsensical emotions, but who could truly define a person being in love anyway? It was like an obsessive lunacy—nothing had ever been enough to appease a man’s appetite.
A man could never appreciate love until he had experienced it himself.
And I was that smitten man, driving blindly into the unknown darkness on cruise control.
Chapter 4
Toby
Present
“I want a divorce.”
Amelia snorted, unfazed while giving me a nasty glare before looking away. She was carefully putting her make-up on, readying to leave to meet her friends. “Like that will ever happen. I’m pregnant. You can’t leave me,” she said nonchalantly, as if what I was demanding was of no concern to her.
Amelia was a bitch, I knew that quite well. Each day I was seeing the rotten side of her and I couldn’t stomach the stench of her blackened heart. Her dismissive attitude did not help with my mood. She liked to provoke me to see if she had the capability to make me lose my cool, but I hadn’t gotten that temperamental with her. A part of me felt bad for her—at one point in time we were somehow comrades in our broken hearts and unrequited love—but I could only endure so much before all Hell broke loose, and when that day ever arrived, I wouldn’t hold back an inch.
Glaring at her reflection, I shrugged before striding towards the walk-in closet, yelling, “Too bad ‘cause I’m packing as soon as I can.”
I was a rational man. Compared to my best friend, Knightly, I could be mistaken for a saint. I wasn’t the one with a flaring temper, but leave it to Amelia to fuck with my head to the point that rationale went out the window.
Pressing the button on the side drawer to automatically open the cabinet door that held my luggage, I impatiently waited as I listened for the quiet, swift sound of it opening when I heard the Spanish she-devil emerge, mouth loaded with foul ammunition.
“And do what, mi amor? Go back to her?” she sneered, rolling her dark eyes at me. She was wearing a long, silk red dress that strategically hid her blossoming belly. Amelia loved to wear red—probably because she loved to provoke raging bulls, like me for instance.