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As we make love, our connection grows deeper, stronger, better with each confessing stroke. When my body nears completion, he takes my hands between one large palm and holds them above my head.
“Hold on to me, baby,” he growls into my mouth. “Never let me go.”
I do just that, knowing that I’m not just holding onto his hands, but onto what we are. And I’ll gladly hold on to this man forever.
Pinpricks flicker through my vision and I lose all sense of time and space, my body growing hot with angst. I’m writhing beneath his sinful hips, whimpering and panting until we come together. There’s nothing that will ever separate us again.
Once finished, he says exactly what I need to hear. “I love you. Please don’t go to Boston.”
“I love you too,” I sigh, rolling into him and smiling against his warm cheek. He smells of the ocean and spicy cologne and delicious sex. “But I already got everything worked out to leave.” Not that I wouldn’t change my plans for him because I would. I absolutely would.
“Fine, then I’m coming with you.”
I laugh. “Your life is in Manhattan.”
And it’s true. He’s got his career and his brother. He’s working toward becoming the CEO of King Media. He has friends and a social life and a reputation to rebuild. He can’t just leave Manhattan. There’s too much at stake.
“Have you learned nothing?” He brushes his lips against mine before pulling back to gaze into my eyes. “My life is you. Where you go, I go.”
I know he’s being honest because I understand exactly how that feels.
Where you go, I go.
Epilogue
Later That Year
“My bounty is as boundless as the sea, My love as deep; the more I give to thee, The more I have, for both are infinite.”
William Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet
Sybil claims that there’s nowhere better to spend New Year’s Eve than in New York City. She’s not talking about Times Square with its monstrous crowds waiting for the ball to drop, though that’s obviously a popular event. Rather, she is talking about the myriad of upscale parties to choose from, many of which are catered exclusively to the rich and famous. For someone who considers herself a socialite, this is her Super Bowl, and she made me come over to get ready with her for the better part of the day.
Now we’re dressed to the nines in shimmery designer gowns and walking into some upscale hotel nightclub, a place exclusively reserved only for Manhattan’s elite to ring in the new year.
Right away I can tell this is totally her thing and is most definitely not mine. It takes all of a minute for me to decide I’d rather be at home. Sure, the decorations fit the iconic black and gold theme perfectly and the glamorous people are dressed to blend right in, but the party is loud and crowded and it feels like everyone is staring at us. Probably because they are—ever since my uncle died, it’s been a media shitstorm for both the Kings and the Laurences.
I shrink into myself under the scrutiny, but Sybil lets it feed her, standing taller and lifting her chin high. She takes my hand and leads me through throngs of people to the bar. Luckily, one of the men at the bar just so happens to be a very handsome Ethan King who also just so happens to be waiting for me. He’s standing next to his brother and they look at the two of us with completely opposite expressions. Ethan’s eyes are on me, hot and possessive. Cooper’s eyes are on Sybil, cold and annoyed.
“Here’s your woman,” she sighs dramatically at Ethan, then to me she adds, “Guess I’ll be seeing you later then.”
Without another word, she flips her hair in Cooper’s face. Ethan doesn’t seem to care one way or the other, he’s focused solely on me. But Cooper? Cooper takes a swig of his drink and mutters something under his breath that sounds an awful lot like “fucking bitch”. I would tell him off, but the guy has had it so rough lately. His first prosthetic leg didn’t work out and his second hasn’t been an easy adjustment whatsoever. He’s finally up and walking, but I have to fight to keep my gaze from flicking down to his pant leg. I’m sure most people here that know about Cooper’s accident have no shame in staring.
Not that Cooper should be ashamed. He absolutely shouldn’t, but that doesn’t change the fact that being different can make you a target for gossip and unwanted glances.
As far as I know, this is the first time Sybil and Cooper have been in the same room since May, so I can’t expect too much of them. Coop lost his leg, but Sybil lost her dad.
Ethan offers to get me a drink, but I decline, so he leads me out to the dance floor where we spend the rest of the night. Every three or four songs someone will come up and ask for introductions but that’s about it. We’re not the center of attention even though I’m sure there’s plenty of gossip circulating about the infamous King and Laurence feud, and the star-crossed lovers who refuse to give each other up.
As fun as it is to be with Ethan, this isn’t my thing and the night passes too slow. Eventually the countdown begins and I sigh with relief, counting down with the rest of the crowd and kissing Ethan when we get to the cheers of “Happy New Year” and people start making out.
His lips are bruising and passionate, and I kiss him back with equal measure for at least a minute before we break apart. He presses his forehead to mine. “Happy New Year, baby.”
“Happy Ne—” I start to reply, but I’m cut off by a familiar voice yelling not too far away.
“Stay the fuck away from me, Cooper,” Sybil yells, and I turn to find her rushing past me, her face red and her eyes two hard slits.
“Oh fuck,” Ethan mutters. “Do you want to go after her?”
