Beautiful Secret (Beautiful Bastard #4) (28 page)

Portia fell still in my arms, letting me sweep her ’round the floor. The song ended, and guests broke out into applause.

I looked down at her face, steely and cold in the warm glow cast from the overhead tent lighting. “What is it?”

She smiled stiffly at me, stretched to kiss my cheek and said, “You just called me a trollop at our wedding.”

The beginning. Though it hadn’t always been like that, just mostly. I had proposed to Portia with a ring I’d bought in a sweet shop and she’d laughed so hard she’d cried and then kissed me properly in front of whoever may have walked by at that moment in Piccadilly Circus.

Our engagement was a memory that often got lost in the shuffle of all of the flat, emotionless ones that followed. I struggled to remember the brighter times whenever I spoke with Portia lately, held on to them with an admittedly strange fever for a man who had no desire to reconcile with his ex-wife. I replayed them because I needed to remember there had been a time when marrying her wasn’t only a clear expectation, but a rather lovely idea.

It was jarring to feel things for Ruby—crippling lust, admiration, worship, and a willing defenselessness—that I’d never before felt, even with the woman I’d married.

Guilt lingered in my chest—guilt that I’d wasted time, that I’d had more to give Portia than I’d bothered to. Guilt that I was thinking about all of this while I washed the body of the woman I was falling for.

Ruby left me feeling exhilarated, but I was terrified. Terrified of the speed at which it was happening, terrified that it wasn’t in fact fleeting.

I smoothed my hands over her breasts, her hips, her backside, and down each leg, washing her feet. My body stirred for her again, insatiable, and more than anything I was terrified that I’d already grown addicted to the way she looked at me, that I’d come to rely on her affection and devotion in a way I never had with Portia. That I knew I never would have, no matter how many years we suffered through.

I stood, turning Ruby into the water to let her rinse and unable to keep my hands from roaming over her curves, and—when she’d finished—guiding her hand to stroke
where I’d stiffened painfully between us, bending and practically begging without words for her mouth on mine.

She stretched to kiss me, pulling me with one arm down until our mouths met beneath the water, her other hand moving sensuously along my length.

With her eyes squeezed closed and tiny whimpers escaping from her mouth into mine, her lips shook when she kissed me. I wouldn’t be able to distinguish tears from the water running down her face, but I knew I loved her when it registered how desperately I cherished seeing her so overcome. And the twin realization followed, with a single, stabbing heartbeat, that if Ruby’s affection for me ever cooled,
it would break me.

That I was in love with Niall Stella was only a secret in theory. He knew it, I knew it. The fact that the actual words had yet to be said was nothing more than a mere formality. I saw the realization as it flickered across his face—expression adoring if not slightly wary—behaving as if I were a glass he might drop, then be left to pick up the pieces.

The sentiment hung in the space around us and it was hard not to feel even the smallest flash of irritation. My wild adoration, his almost constant wariness—I wasn’t sure which was worse. My silent admission was as good as graffiti across my chest, and yet he didn’t say anything.

So neither did I.

Niall had toweled us both off, and we’d fallen almost immediately into bed. His? Mine? I wasn’t even sure anymore. Did it matter? My orgasm had left me boneless, but I was still wide-awake.

“If you could be anywhere right now, where would
you be?”

We’d been quiet for a while now, lights off and only the sounds of traffic, or the occasional bump or voice from down the hall to break into our thoughts. He’d assumed the position—stretched out on his stomach, pillow clutched tight—and looked up at me in the dark. I loved that I knew how he slept now. It was such an intimate thing, to know the way a person arranges themselves to depart at night, and a part of me delighted that I was one of the very few who knew this tiny, secret thing about him.

“And you can’t say ‘right here,’ ” I added, running a finger along the back of his arm. His skin was smooth and still warm from the shower. I dug in a little, kneading the muscle, and he sighed in pleasure. “Anywhere else.”

The moon was high in the sky, and a swath of light cut across the bed, angling up and over his body. I watched him frown in thought as he considered my question.

I wasn’t even sure why I’d asked. It might have been that I was feeling vulnerable after our shower, and that tiny seed of doubt was making me homesick. Maybe it was the wall I felt had been knocked down tonight, seeing him lose himself to the music and the crowd moving all around us. Or maybe it was just my way of trying to get inside that maddeningly complicated head of his. I didn’t even know.

“Hmm, anywhere?”

I nodded from my spot next to him. The sheets were cool against my naked body, but I could feel the heat
of him next to me.

“Why can’t I say ‘right here’?” he asked, reaching out to brush the tip of my nose.

I shrugged and he moved his leg, hooking it over mine to bring me just a breath closer. It was a tiny thing that had me smiling into my pillow.

“When we were small, our dad had a friend who worked at Elland Road, the football stadium in West Yorkshire. Max was old enough to drive and sometimes he’d bring me with him—the irritating little brother. Drive us both down there to kick balls ’round on the pitch. Leeds United play at Elland Road,” he said with reverence, “the club I’ve watched my entire life on telly at home. I’d been up in those stands, cheering them on, and here I was, standing on the same green as the men I’d worshipped. I’d like to go back there someday with my brother. See if it still felt as big.”

“I’d like to see that,” I said, grinning now. “You and Max as teenagers, running up and down the field. You’d both be shirtless in this scenario, yes?”

Niall pinned me with a glare that had me erupting in giggles.

“And what about you, where would you be, Miss Ruby?”

“I miss San Diego.”

“Do you not enjoy London?”

“I
love
London, getting to live there has been sort of a dream, but it’s expensive, it rains a lot, and I miss
everyone.”

“Everyone?”

“My roommates, Lola and London. And especially my brother.”

“It must have been hard being away from them.”

“The time difference sucks,” I said, groaning. “It’s like we get four hours to be awake in the same day and those are early in the morning or late at night.”

Niall nodded, continuing to run his fingers through the front of my hair. I began to feel my eyes droop. “But you’ll stay in London?” he asked, and I wondered if I imagined the hint of anxiousness there.

“Through school, at the very least.”

“So a few years.”

The words burned on the tip of my tongue. “Hopefully,” I said at last.

“And tell me about San Diego. What was it like growing up there?”

“Have you ever been to California?” I asked.

“I’ve been to Los Angeles,” he said. “Perfect weather and palm trees. Lots of blond people.”

“LA is
not
San Diego,” I said, shaking my head but feeling my chest warm just thinking about home. “LA is cement and cars and people. San Diego is green palms and blue sky and ocean everywhere. When I was younger, Crain and I would head over to a friend’s house just a few blocks from the beach. We’d load everything up in the baskets on the front of our bikes and just stay there,
all day.”

“What would you do?” he asked.

“
Nothing
,” I said blissfully. “We’d just lie around in the sand all day, play volleyball or read or talk, listen to music. When we got hot we’d jump into the water, maybe take turns on someone’s paddleboard, when we got hungry we’d eat the lunch we packed. My mom would see us in the morning and then not until the sun went down.”

“Sounds brilliant. I quite like the image of teenage Ruby,” he said, wrapping a finger around a piece of hair and tugging. “Hair bleached from the summer and freckles across your nose. Tan skin and tiny bikini.” He seemed to consider how this sounded for a moment before clearing his throat and adding, “We’re going to imagine I’m teenage Niall in this scenario, as well.”

I laughed, pulling the sheet up around my body. “Carlsbad was an amazing place to grow up, you know? Before I left the States I was sharing this great apartment with two of my best friends. We could see the ocean from our dining room window,” I said, missing them so much in that moment it was like a physical ache. “Between our work schedules it felt like we hardly saw each other, but when we finally managed to all be there at the same time we’d make cappuccinos so we could stay up late and talk, sometimes watching the sun come up over the marina. Maybe that’s why it was so easy to leave . . . We’d all grown so busy we barely saw each other anymore.”

“Maybe. Or perhaps, you knew something bigger was on its way. Waiting for you.”

I looked at him for a long time when he said that, wondering if he meant school and work, or more. “You should go there someday. Lie on the beach, go to Disneyland, ride Space Mountain.”

Niall scrunched up his nose in distaste, but I leaned in and kissed him anyway. “Disneyland?”

“You didn’t think you’d like the concert, either. Remember? Sometimes it’s fun to just be silly.”

He was quiet for a moment before nodding once and tilting his chin toward me for another kiss. “You’re right, I suppose,” he said against my mouth. “And what do you think of New York? Do you enjoy yourself?”

“It’s big and loud, but . . . sort of exhilarating. I’ll never forget it,” I said, eyes still on the comforter.

“Maybe you’ll come back.”

I lifted a shoulder in a small shrug. “Maybe. Might not be the same without the company, though.”

“Who would buy you hot dogs and tease you about mustard?”

“Or grope me on the subway?”

“Exactly. So school first and then you’ll what? Go back to San Diego?”

We’d been so honest tonight and I didn’t want to give that up. “I’m not sure,” I said. “It depends on a lot of things.”

“Such as?”

School, finding a job, finding a
flat. You. Me
.

“School,” I said. “A job that pays enough to live there.”

“I’m fairly certain neither of those things will be a problem.”

“I still have to actually get into Maggie’s program, you know.”

“You will. Margaret Sheffield would be nutters to let someone like you go. You’re quite brilliant, Ruby.”

“I’m
distracted
,” I corrected him.

He smoothed a hand down my back and over the curve of my ass, to rest at my hip. “Ah, but we go home soon, yeah?”

“I think we both know that New York isn’t the distraction,” I said honestly.

“I think that may be true for the both of us,” he said, pressing his thumb into my skin.

“What
will
happen when we get home?” I asked, voicing the question we’d both been avoiding. We were due to leave in two days. The tickets were bought. The email telling me to check in to my flight would be arriving in less than twenty-four hours. Everything had happened so fast, but would it continue? We wouldn’t take the physical side of our relationship any further until he knew he loved me, but what did that mean for the rest? Were we an actual couple? Would we tell anyone?

He blinked up to my face, and I could tell he hadn’t been expecting that, for me to just
come right out and ask. “We’ll plug along,” he said. “Things will of course be different at work, but outside of that, things can stay as they are.”

His expression tightened into one that I’m sure mirrored my own. I wasn’t sure which of those sentences I hated more.
We’ll plug along
made it sound like we were barely surviving this, that
we
were something to be endured.
Things will be different at work
. Of course they would, how could they not?
And things can stay the way they are
. I was greedy. I didn’t want things to stay the way they were, I wanted more. I wanted all of him.

Nearly three days later we stepped onto the curb at Heathrow, bags rolling to a stop behind us. The sky was a dingy gray, the air cool and smelling of damp stone and exhaust, but it felt like home. Niall had held my hand throughout most of the flight, growing more confident in how he allowed himself to touch me, and even now stood close enough that the side of his body was in constant contact with mine.

He’d suggested we head to his flat, but we were both exhausted, and, realistically, we wouldn’t get any sleep if we were together. We’d each been gone for weeks, would have people to catch up with, a stack of mail to sort through, and, after nine hours of traveling, there was nothing I wanted more than a shower and my own bed. Especially given that Tony had requested
I come into the office the next day to debrief him and because, he “hasn’t seen my lovely face in a month.”