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I refused to find her on social media. It wasn’t my style to run after a girl that way. She would just block me or something—if she was on social media in the first place.
Celine wasn’t the kind of woman who was easily accessible. She was a rare breed, the kind of creature a man was lucky to come across at least once in their lifetime. I’d been luckier than most to run into her a second time, a decade after we’d been together.
I wasn’t going to fuck with fate and try to make life harder for myself. I had work to do, and I had to keep my focus on the business.
Gino had told me to get involved with her, but it wasn’t that simple. Gino just didn’t understand that getting involved with Celine was a gamble; it was like selling your soul and hoping that it would work out right… and it probably wouldn’t.
When I’d seen her again, when we’d slept together, I’d wanted nothing more than to see her again. I’d been determined to find her and make it happen, but that had been a steamy drunken night and the aftermath of good sex talking. Now that I was sober and I’d thought about it for a while, it made more sense not to go down that road again.
The human brain had a way of forgetting the bad and only holding onto the good. It was why people always went back to those they loved, despite the horrors that could happen. It was why people had fond memories rather than dealing with constant nightmares. It was our body’s defense mechanism, keeping the good and discarding the bad so that, in retrospect, everything was rosy.
Being with Celine had been incredible, but she’d also been a royal pain in my ass. She’d been spoiled, full of herself, and ready for a fight around every turn. She fought everything someone told her to, went against the grain just for the sake of it, and she could shoot herself in the foot for the sake of being different.
I applauded a woman being independent, but being with Celine had been a fight around every turn. She was hot as hell when she was angry, and our best sex had always been after a fight, but I was a grownup now. At some point, I had to avoid shit like that and focus on the good life had to offer.
I still saw Celine as good, but it was just easier if I didn’t get involved with the one woman who was my kryptonite.
When I woke up the day I had to fly to LA for my event, I lay underneath the thousand-thread sheets on my king bed and looked up at the ceiling. The sun had barely risen, and the light that fell through my open curtains still had the silver quality of the night clinging to it.
The house was quiet. When I woke up early like this, I relished the calm around me. The house would wake up soon, servants would hurry around to clean everything, and Zia Luana, my aunt, would be in the kitchen cooking up a storm for my uncle and us two boys to have breakfast.
Right now, none of that had happened yet, and I liked the silence that hung in the house.
My mind drifted to Celine again. Seeing her at the wedding had been a surprise. I’d been in Cali for over six years now, but I’d never thought I’d run into her. She’d been in Seattle as far as I’d known, anyway. Living in the same country didn’t mean we were next door to each other—America was a big place.
Seeing her at the wedding, walking down the aisle with an air of importance like she was the center of attention more than the bride had shocked me to my core.
I’d been determined to ignore her, but she was like a beacon of light, and I was a moth to a flame.
I hadn’t been able to stay away from her, and like Icarus, who flew too close to the sun, I’d melted, failing to save myself from her.
God, and what a night it had been. I hadn’t needed to save myself from her—she’d been as eager to reunite as I had. She’d been as demanding in bed as she’d always been, but I wasn’t the teenager I’d been when we’d met the first time, and I’d held my own.
The push and pull that night had been erotic as fuck.
Just thinking about it made my cock hard, pushing up against the boxers I wore.
Celine had been a vision in that golden dress, and when I’d peeled it off her, I’d nearly lost my load just looking at her perfect body, clad in lace lingerie.
Celine was nothing if not classy as fuck.
I cupped my cock, hard and straining against my boxers. I kicked off the sheets and pulled down my boxers, setting my cock free. I thought about Celine, the way her body curved under my hands when I gripped her hips. I flashed on the night of the wedding, her perfect lips wrapped around my cock, her blue eyes rolled up at me.
God, I would never tire of that face, erotic as fuck as she took charge and gave me what I craved. I wrapped my fingers around my cock, palming my thick flesh and pumped my hand up and down.
My hand wasn’t nearly as satisfying as when Celine had her mouth or her hand or her pussy wrapped around me, but it did the job. I jerked my cock harder and faster, thinking about Celine’s perfect breasts, bouncing as she fucked me. Her long, slender legs wrapped around my waist, claiming what was hers.
Fuck, Celine was the one person I could never resist. She was the woman who’d left her mark, branding me so that of all the women I’d been with, she was the one I kept coming back to when I needed a release, beating my own meat in my bed.
I gritted my teeth and bit back a groan, keeping it down. I didn’t want Zia Luana to hear me if she happened to pass by my door.
I grunted and groaned inwardly as I pushed myself closer and closer to a release, but in my mind, it was Celine with her body writhing underneath me, her cries of pure pleasure in my ear when I fought her for control and pinned her down to fuck her.
That was what I loved about Celine—she didn’t let a man step up and take over. She’d always been independent and fiercely her own woman. Her aggression in the bedroom was a treat, making me work for it when I wanted control.
It was just a fucking turn-on, and thinking about it was what pushed me over the edge.
I let out a stifled cry, my body curling and my cock jerked in my hand, releasing white ropes of pure need over my fingers.
