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“I love your face,” she whispers. “I want to remember all the textures, the details, the softness of your lips and the coarseness of your weekend beard.” The pads of her fingers and hands explore every inch of my face, my ears, my neck. Virginia closes her eyes again and a fat tear rolls from the corner of one. I kiss it away, then continue my own study.
I tease her nipples, tickling her ribs with my scruff. She squirms but in a slow, responsive way, her body and contented sighs communicating her delight. When my mouth tracks to just below her belly button, her hands tangle in my hair and direct my face lower. Her invitation is crystal clear, and my gentle exploration turns merciless.
I push her legs apart and nip at the top of her inner thigh. She exhales breathily, sending too much blood to my cock. I bite again, harder this time. Her hips push her apex against my cheek. Before I spread her lower lips to lick her into a frenzy of euphoria, I look up her body to see if she’s watching.
Her eyes are closed tight, and her mouth is pinched in a grimace, like she’s in pain. It’s too soon for the pain of ecstasy just before she comes. She is in emotional pain.
My abdominal muscles contract so tightly, I feel like my spine might crack. I can’t continue.
When I pull myself away, her eyes open. She gasps for air as if she’s been holding her breath and releases a long, low moan filled with more grief than one body should be allowed to carry.
I did this to her. I led her to believe this could work, knowing from that first moment she stepped onto the stage—and all I could think about was touching her wild hair and taking off the dress that hummed with a life and joy that could never be mine—that this was the only way a relationship with me could end.
I hate myself. I leave her to recover on her own while I will myself to drown in the shower. When I finally step out, the bedroom is empty.
She’s gone. And not just from the room. Bruce and his partner have taken her back to the city.
32. Virginia
COMPOSURE OR COMPOST
Convincing the security detail to drive me back to the city without Will’s blessing required I unleash my inner brat. I stormed from the house with my backpack, walked to the highway, and thrust out my thumb. I’ve never hitchhiked and was secretly glad when the guy who followed me radioed his partner, Bruce, to bring the car down.
The highway doesn’t have an exit or a turnaround for twenty miles—an exasperating thing when you’re stuck behind an accident, but great when you need time to convince two guys to take you home, not back to the man who you can’t be around right now.
“I’m sorry I woke you,” I say to Bruce. “And thanks again for letting me use your tub last night.”
He nods but doesn’t reply.
“Ms. Beach, are you not aware—”
I cut him off. It’s not like me to be so rude, but I’m done with all this cloak-and-dagger secrecy. “Listen, Paul Blart, my name is Virginia, and if you can’t call me that, I will be deaf to your words. Number two, I am aware of the threat. At least, that there is one. And frankly, as I told Will, I can’t do this anymore.”
Bruce makes eye contact with me in the rearview mirror. He’s smiling for the first time in my presence. “Virginia, this is Aziz. Don’t think he was ever a mall cop, but—”
“Never,” Aziz growls.
“But he’s been with the Power family longer than I have.”
“And we have to take you back to Mr. Power in Lily Valley,” Aziz grumbles.
I am pretty certain there will be no winning an argument with Aziz unless Will is on my side. For the first time in my life, I wish I was in a car with a privacy window. I could text Will, but I need to hear his voice. He answers on the first ring.
“Virginia. Are you OK?” He sounds frantic.
“I’m sorry I left. I just couldn’t …”
“I know. I’m sorry too. But can we finish …”
I let the silence hang between us, wondering if he wants to finish the action he was in the middle of or the conversation that was interrupted before he went down on me.
Finishing either would kill me right now.
Will inhales loudly and pushes out a long breath.
“How far are you?” he asks.
“About five minutes from the turnaround.”
